Breakwater Beach (12 page)

“Thank you, Mr. Somersell.” Elisabeth noted the leer on his face. He would be the last person she’d care to visit.

“Captain, I’ll be in touch.” Somersell jumped into his Brougham, the groom cracked the whip, and the black horse took off.

“Let’s get you ladies aboard.” Edward led the entourage up a rickety, narrow plank onto the deck where a few sailors coiled ropes and adjusted rigging.

The odour of wet wood and musty rope wafted through the air. Two men charged down the deck. One pulled on the other’s shirt until it ripped off. They swung at each other and as their blows connected, blood spurted out of a squashed nose and a split lip. The pair crashed into a rolling, punching tangle on the deck, bowling over Katherine and Sara.

Elisabeth pressed herself against a pile of ropes to stay clear. She pressed a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream, and over her nose to quell the stench of stale urine.

Several other sailors hurried over to watch the fight. Edward and Vauxhall dragged the men apart and held them up by their hair.

“I’ll have none of this! You were warned we’d have ladies aboard. Off, both of you!” Edward shoved them down the plank and kicked at one’s behind.

He fell to the dock with a thud.

Edward started toward the crowd of sailors, his voice shrill with fury. “What are you all standing around for? Get back to work or you’ll be next.” 

The men scattered. Several seamen ran down and assisted the moaning man to his feet. He limped off, his arms draped around two companions. The one he’d been fighting with had already run away.

Elisabeth stood frozen, horrified. Katherine whimpered and Sara comforted her as Vauxhall ran to assist them. They struggled up and brushed themselves off.

“Mr. Vauxhall, make Sara and Katherine comfortable in your quarters. Then join the crew below and get them under control. I’ll take my wife with me.” Edward grabbed Elisabeth’s arm and jerked her toward him.

“This way, ladies. Don’t worry, there will be no more mischief.” Vauxhall led the maids toward the stern of the ship.

Edward nearly dragged her across the deck in the opposite direction.

Elisabeth struggled to keep up with his long strides. The general lack of decorum didn’t disturb her nearly as much as the aggressive side of her husband she’d never seen.

“I am deeply sorry, Elisabeth. Sailors are used to taverns and harlots. Most of them have no idea what a lady is. This is the only life they know.” Breathless from annoyance and rushing, he guided her into his cabin, slid the door closed, and latched it.

She took deep breaths and forced herself to speak slowly. “Is Brewster like Boston?”

Edward’s voice softened. He slipped his hands around her waist and brought his face close to hers. A smile tickled the corner of his mouth. “Brewster is lovely, quiet, a lot like Berkshire, but more remote.”

“Thank the good Lord. You’re brave, and love excitement and adventure, Edward. I crave some peace and quiet.” Elisabeth took off her hat and laid it on his desk. She noted her handkerchief neatly unfolded, with a compass on top. The angry tension in her brow relaxed.
He keeps that with him while he’s at sail.

“And you shall have it. Very soon. You are a very courageous woman, Elisabeth, to have fought so hard for your freedom. And to have convinced me that, against all odds, we could become husband and wife. Your dreams are about to come true. And mine as well.” His embrace was longer, more intimate, this time. He nuzzled her neck, and his hands stroked from her back to her bum, as close as he could get with the bustle. “I’ve done my best to make things perfect for you, but I suppose things were much nicer aboard the
Batavia
.” Edward’s tone was apologetic.

“I can see how much you’ve done to bring me here. The
Batavia
was bigger, but I trust the seas won’t be as rough.” She sincerely hoped for calm. And that he wasn’t expecting more courage than she had.

“We’ll hug the coast, and the bay is almost always calmer than the ocean.” He released her and sat at his desk. “Here is our course.” His finger traced a line on an unintelligible nautical map.

“Doesn’t appear to be that far.” Elisabeth struggled to see where he was pointing. Dark teak and small portholes overhead did little to illuminate the cabin. What she wouldn’t do for sunshine, real windows, a view of trees, grasses, and flowers. Her trunks took up most of the space on the side of the platform bed. A tiny washstand stood to the side, holding a chamber pot on the bottom shelf.

“No, not nearly as far as you’ve already come.” He took her arm and led her to the bed. “Plenty of room for both of us here, my love. It’s been far too long.” He unbuttoned the back of her dress. “Green was always my favourite colour and it looks stunning on you.”

He kissed her cheek and brushed his lips down her neck. His beard was bushier now, and it pricked her skin like needles. Elisabeth shuddered and pulled away. She’d dreamed of this moment for so long, but Edward seemed so different.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was a shallow whisper, his expression a combination of surprise and disappointment.

Anxiety and exhaustion spread through her like a fever flush. “I’ve still not recovered from the voyage, the excitement. Are you sure Katherine and Sara are safe?” She twisted her arms behind her neck and refastened her buttons.

Edward’s lips formed a straight line and his brow furrowed. “Kyle gave up his quarters for them. They’ll be fine. He’ll keep an eye on the crew below.”

“I need to make sure they’re all right, and we’ll need to get supper. We’ve already missed tea.” She sorely wanted to be out of her confining clothes and to take a nap, but that would mean . . .

“Promise me, Elisabeth, if they’re all right, we’ll come back here to spend some time getting reacquainted. I’ll have the cook serve supper, and tea, to all of us together this evening.” Edward’s fingers traced her face and neck. His hands ran down her arms and along her back. He looked like he wanted to devour her.

The last time they had been together, she would have given anything to spend the entire day naked in bed next to him. But that was in her room, with her maid and chaperone next door. It was before he’d fled, leaving her behind. And before her father raised the specter of such dreadful accusations. Was he guilty of those transgressions? Had he taken another woman to this bed in her absence? He had been gentle the few times they had made love, but in his element and in charge, he wanted things his way.

“All right, Edward. Let’s do that.” Elisabeth kissed his neck and chest. He was her husband, and had kept his promise to bring her to America. He’d made such an effort to prepare things. She’d keep her promises as well, but needed some time, some reassurance.

Edward smiled and traced her face. Then he took her by the hand and led her out the door.

Edward left her with the maids. Elisabeth found them comfortable, resting with their shoes off—and wished she could do the same. Ascending a narrow, low-ceilinged stairway, she made her way to the gunwales and peered over the side. Pushing away the fear the murky, deep water conjured, she tried to forget the vision of Edward drifting motionless in the dark.

Sunbeams flickered over the ripples. A warm breeze tousled the loose strands of hair around her face, but she shivered.

It will be nice to be on firm ground again.
As she stared into the depths, familiar fears wormed inside her. A gentle touch on the shoulder startled her out of the trance.

“The maids are happy, the cook is at work, and we have two hours to ourselves.”

She stared into her husband’s eyes, seeking some reconnection with the Edward she remembered. “What do you love so much about the sea? It looks so forbidding. I could barely keep my footing on the ocean liner in the rough seas and can only imagine what it’s like on a ship this size.”

He wrapped his arm around her, smiled, and returned her gaze. “Don’t look down, look over there. Right beyond the horizon are worlds of adventure, sights to see, and exotic ports to explore. I don’t think any mariner can explain his attraction to the sea.”

“So, she must be the harlot that comforts you when you’re alone. You ran off and left me behind that day, Edward. How soon before you do it again?”

His lips brushed her cheek, her ear. “I hated leaving you and have spent every waking hour and more dreams than I can count regretting that. But I kept my word, prepared things, and sent for you. Right now, you have a promise to keep, Lady Elisabeth Baxter Barrett. Shall I carry you off?”

“I’ll walk.” What if something happened to him? What would happen to her? “I’m scared.”

“Everything will be fine now that you’re here with me.” His arm encircled her waist, and she rested her head on his shoulder as they returned to his cabin.

The door clicked shut. He slipped the bolt into place and moved toward her. The hunger in his eyes resurrected the misgivings.

Edward unbuttoned her dress and eased it off her shoulders. The fabric fell into a puddle of silk around her. The trace of his fingertips sent shivers down her spine. She stepped out of the skirts, and stooped to unbutton her shoes, slip off her pantalets, and unfasten her garters.

Edward watched, his mouth open, his breaths shallow. “You’ll need some help with the stays, I imagine.” He slid behind and loosened them one-by-one, brushing his lips over her back each time.

It seemed as if his eyes were boring into her while he pushed each stocking down to her ankles and eased them off each foot. The pleasure of Edward’s gentle touch against bare legs set anticipation rumbling in her core. She moistened, preparing to receive him.

Edward removed his shirt, then his trousers. Naked, horribly erect, he watched as she slithered out of her chemise. His gaze, his desire, was too intense, and she looked away.

When she turned her attention back, Edward was already under the covers waiting. He beckoned with his eyes, raised the sheet, and tapped her side of the bed. “Don’t be afraid, Elisabeth,” he whispered.

She slid next to him, and he gathered her into a firm, but gentle embrace.

His kisses were moist and soft as a butterfly fluttering against her face. “You’re shaking like a leaf in the wind. Remember if you relax, all will be well.”

“It’s been such a long time.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Too long, but soon you’ll have wonderful memories of our reunion.” He brushed them away.

Edward’s arms tightened around her, and the quaking stopped. His fingers gently traced her shoulders and the curve of her back. The fear ebbed and the tension dissipated. Her sex throbbed.

I’ll never hurt you.” His hands slid toward the front. He cupped her breasts in his hands.

Electric shocks ran through her as his lips brushed and nibbled hers, before he covered her entire mouth with his. Elisabeth pressed her lips to his, and the rest of her body followed. Emboldened, aroused, she stroked his arms, savoring the contour and power of his rippling muscles. He sighed as she made her way down, cupped his bottom, and moved back up to his abdomen and chest.

“I like it when you touch me so. Now it’s your turn.” His voice was a gravely whisper, his hand slipped between her thighs and stroked.

The gentle massage sent a wave of heat through her body, so intense she caught her breath and struggled not to call out. “Oh, Edward . . .” Her exhale turned to a gasp as the pleasure coursed through her.

“What, my love?” He paused, and looked into her eyes.

“So wonderful . . . don’t stop . . .” Elisabeth clenched her teeth and her back arched, an instinctual offering of herself to him.

“Come to me.” The length of his member pressed against her.

She parted her legs to allow him inside. Softened by his touch the sensation of his entry even more exhilarating. So close, so united, the boundaries between their bodies vanished as their movements intensified. She stifled her moans lest anyone be passing by outside.

Edward’s movements intensified, his grasp tightened, holding her even closer, pushing even deeper into her. He shuddered and moaned. “Elisabeth.”

Every muscle in her body contracted. “Edward.” She buried her face in this chest to stifle the scream. Warmth flowed over her thighs followed by a shaking so intense she couldn’t control her body movements or her cries.

With it came a deep sense of calm. There was no longer anything to run or hide from. The beating of their hearts against each other gradually returned to normal while they traced each other’s faces.

Boots scraped the floor outside Edward’s cabin. Untroubled, his eyes closed and he dozed. Silhouettes moved across the muslin cloth covering the portholes and larger window that looked directly out onto the foredeck.

The men knew she was in here and what they were doing. Her cheeks burned.
He is my husband. There is nothing for me to fear. Still, how will I face them?

Chapter 13

Elisabeth awoke alone. The familiar sway of a ship at sea greeted her feet. She used the chamber pot and washed. Who’d left the pitcher of warm water while she slept, naked and barely covered with the bedclothes? Like a guilty schoolgirl, she retrieved her nightgown from the foot of the bed. She’d taken such care when purchasing it, thinking the fabric that clung to every curve would entice her husband. Instead, irritated by the buttons to undo, Edward had eased it over her head and tossed it aside.

After making love a second time, they’d drifted off to sleep, skin to skin, their bodies moulded together like nested teaspoons. The pleasure hadn’t faded, but instead had grown from absence and desire.

Embarrassed to have anyone see such evidence of their enjoyment of each other, Elisabeth straightened the tangled bed linens. She fished through the trunk filled with the trousseau her father had no idea he was paying for, the pleasure of her success in outsmarting him mitigated by his prophesies.

This was no place for high fashion. She chose fresh undergarments, and a simple traveling dress of black wool, leaving behind the corset. With a smug sense of wifely delight, she placed the folded nightgown near the top of her trunk; there would be many more occasions to wear it. All her fears had vanished overnight, as her husband had reminded her of the joyous nature of marital duties.

Edward knocked and stepped in without waiting. “You’re already dressed. I left warm water for you.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “You’ve not had time to put it up yet. It’s glorious.”

“Yes, thank you.” Thank goodness it was he. “And who will see to the chamber pot?” Things would be different now. Very different.

“The cabin boy. We’ve been under sail for a few hours and should arrive in Brewster by tomorrow morning. Wait until you see the beautiful house I’ve built for you. “

Edward beamed. “You deserve a home befitting a lady of your stature. The best of everything, from ports all over the world. Plus fine English design and craftsmanship."

The reminder that he’d been sailing about the globe, and would continue to do so, washed away some of the afterglow. “You’ve worked so hard, Edward. Really, all I want is to be with you.”

He did not respond to her plea. "Shall we retrieve the maids and have some breakfast?”

“Yes, please.” It was going to take some time to convince him. And to muster the courage to confront him with her father’s allegations.

They stepped into a stiff breeze, bright sunshine, and the aroma of damp teak. Edward guided her toward the stern of the ship. Wind filled the sails and drove them along at a fast clip, but the seas were calm. Elisabeth draped a shawl around her shoulders against the misty chill. She held her head high, her arm laced through Edward’s, and walked as steadily as she could as the vessel teeter-tottered on the waves.

Sailors tended the sails, scrubbed the deck, and polished the hardware with a pungent paste. Thankfully, the men avoided eye contact with her, but acknowledged their captain with nods and a tip of hand to forehead. Sara and Katherine stood near the bow, staring at the expanse of ocean before them.

“Good morning, ladies. Mr. Vauxhall and I made it clear to the men they are to behave themselves. Feel free to walk about. Go down to the galley whenever you wish. The cook is always there. Would you care to join Elisabeth and me for some breakfast? I last ate at five this morning, so I’m in need of a spot of tea.”

“Thank you, Captain, some biscuits might settle my stomach. It’s a mite queasy.” Katherine had regained some color in her cheeks.

“Stay out as much as possible then, Katherine,” Edward said. “You’ll feel less seasick when you stare at the horizon, as you’re doing now. Shall we go?”

They made their way along, holding onto the sides of the ship as it rocked. He helped each of them down the ladder stair to the galley. The foursome crowded around one of the rough-hewn pine tables.

Elisabeth struggled to get her skirts around the jagged corners and down the length of the bench. Edward climbed over, an option the women didn’t have. Glad she’d chosen travel clothes, Elisabeth disentangled her dress from the splintered wood.

How much nicer it was to be above deck, where they’d dined last evening, at tables fashioned by draping oil cloth over hatch covers, lanterns flickering, as the sun set in the western sky. Rather romantic. She and her husband had sat at one hatch, the maids with Mr. Vauxhall at another. The coziness of the galley had its own rustic charm. It smelled of wood smoke, lamp oil, sea salt, and hemp. Not unpleasant, but filled with unwashed bodies with portholes closed against wind and weather that would not likely be the case. Something she’d have to be prepared for if she ever did sail with Edward for more than a few days.

She fancied that all the men, regardless of rank, crammed in here below deck in harsh weather, shoulder-to-shoulder, huddled together for warmth, companionship, and solace. Women would be distractions from duty, from necessary loyalty, from unity of purpose.

“Morning, ladies. My, they’re a sight for sore eyes, Captain.” The cook, sporting a toothless grin, hobbled over carrying a tray laden with tea, cups, and utensils. He set dishes of hot biscuits, butter, and jam on the table.

“We’ll be in Brewster for a while, Cooky.” Edward smiled. “Time enough to visit your wife.”

“She claims I get in her way. Happy she is to see me off.” Cooky chuckled and went back to the iron stove. Pots clattered and smoke filled the cabin as he stoked the fire.

Elisabeth added cream and sugar and buttered a biscuit. It was hard as stone, but the warmed curds sank in and softened it. Did all these men care so little for being home with their families?

“In Brewster, the women are quite self-sufficient. This is beach plum jam, made in Brewster. It’s quite good.” Edward dunked a biscuit into his tea.

Sara showed some enthusiasm for the first time in a long while. “Yes, very tasty. We’ll have to prepare some.”

“So, you’re going to make our house a lovely home, I see.” Edward looked intently at Elisabeth.

“One I hope you’ll be loathe to leave.” Unnerved by the tone of the conversation, Elisabeth returned the stare.

Edward lowered his gaze and and his smile faded.

Elisabeth spent the day outside in the company of the maids. They read, did needlework, and walked around to stretch their legs.
The Sea Mist
cut through the choppy seas like a needle through cloth, running parallel to a sliver of land on the right horizon.

Not long after Edward relieved Kyle at the helm, Elisabeth watched with fascination as a lone figure scaled the rigging, like a jungle monkey, to the crow’s nest. He bobbed in a tiny basket, barely visible.

“Whales off the port bow, sir!” His voice carried in the wind.

Elisabeth ran to the front of the ship, the two maids right behind her.

The giant mammals breached and plunged several meters from the ship. Huge wishbone tails slapped. They spouted water that smelled like a fish stall in the market. The sight stole her breath. “Truly amazing.”

“There’s a cow and calf.” Edward pointed to one pair out of the six or so in the group. “Lucky for them we’re not whalers.”

Elisabeth left the maids and the sailors that had gathered to watch to join Edward. She rested her hand on his, which sat upon the wheel. “Are whales aggressive?” 

He wrapped one arm around her shoulders while steering with the other. “Only when speared and the blood attracts sharks. Nasty sight, I do say. One you’ll want to avoid if they’re driven ashore on the beaches.”

Her stomach turned at the thought of such massacre. “Is that a common thing?”

“Whaling is a tradition in this part of the country. The lamp oil and whalebone comes from somewhere.” Delight shone like bright sunshine on her husband’s face as the giant creatures dove and disappeared. Elisabeth hadn’t ever seen his smile so broad.

“That was beautiful. Seeing that mother and her calf made me think how unnecessary it is that they die for ridiculous, uncomfortable fashion.” Her hand remained on the wheel as her husband jiggered the tack of the ship to keep the sails full and their progress steady.

“I see wondrous sights all the time that make me reconsider everything I thought I knew about life.” Edward released her from his grasp, slipped behind her, and cradled her in front of him. With both his hands on the wheel, he made no attempt to disengage hers and kissed the top of her head.

Elisabeth stared up at him, proudly in command of his ship, his wife at the helm alongside her husband. This was an inkling of allure of the sea. And of the life she’d have if he could be convinced to take her along.

Screeching gulls awoke Elisabeth the next morning. She noticed little movement of the ship, and bright sunshine blinded her when she stepped outside the dark cabin.

An expanse of black mud, dotted with rocks and pools of brackish water, extended toward the shore. Figures moved about on land. A strong odour of sulphur permeated the moist, hazy air.

Edward came around. “Good morning, my love. You’re looking at Breakwater Beach in Brewster, Massachusetts. The tide is coming in, and we’ll soon be going ashore.”

“How quickly it advances.” In the flash of a sunbeam, water had covered large sections of the flats.

“Very fast,” Edward said. “You must take care when walking out there.”

“Why would I be on the beach?” Elisabeth asked.

“It’s a way to cool down when it’s hot. Many do it for recreation. I must see to the off-loading.” He pecked her cheek and dashed away.

Sara and Katherine brought breakfast from below. Elisabeth ate standing at the gunwales, watching the waves froth over the black mud, concealing it under a drab grey-green cloak. Edward and Kyle loaded baggage and other goods in two small boats secured on the side of the schooner.

“Smells awful, doesn’t it, my lady?” Katherine’s nose crinkled.

“Yes, it certainly does.”

Sara peered over the side. “How do you suppose we’re going to get down there?”

“I imagine the tide’s rising will solve both problems.” Elisabeth remained hopeful as much for her own sake as theirs.

The two men moved with agility and grace in the wobbly dories, their muscles bulged under short-sleeved shirts as they heaved. Elisabeth recalled Edmond, who looked so much like Edward, and his comforting presence. And Kyle Vauxhall, gently helping Katherine and Sara to their feet the day before yesterday.

Working men entranced her. Their strength of body and character put her at ease, even in strange and frightening circumstances. They understood the realities of life, and weren’t afraid to act, to challenge conventions. Women should be fortunate enough to be able to do the same. Perhaps it would be different in this country, in the very state that had tossed British rule, embodied by crates of tea, overboard.

Kyle called up to them. “We’ll help you down the ladder into the dory. It’s a quick row to the dock. Billy, be a good lad and help the ladies get situated.”

The three women exchanged glances, and Elisabeth forced a gallant smile. The boy Kyle had directed to assist couldn’t have been more than fifteen. Rusty fuzz graced his chin and the muscles were barely developed in his arms. He had a willing smile and youthful glint in his eye, no doubt eager to please his captain and first mate. Elisabeth imagined how his mother must feel each time her son sailed into unknown dangers with men twice his age teaching him all sorts of questionable things.

Her next adventure: Climbing down the side of the ship on a rope ladder. Katherine and Sara stared, incredulous, as Edward steadied it from below. Elisabeth stepped forward first since her husband was waiting to catch her.

“Ease yourself down on deck, ma’am. Then I’ll help you over.” The young sailor assisted her down to her knees, and she sat off to the side. He held one arm while she gathered her skirts with the other and swung her legs overboard.

She turned, as if dismounting a horse, and thrust her foot toward the first rung. When she felt it under her right, Elisabeth extended her left, lifted her skirts up over the ankles, and held onto the bunched fabric and the gently swaying rope with all her might, fearful of falling backwards into the dory. But Billy held onto her with surprising strength for such a slight lad until Edward took her around the waist, then by the hand, helped her descend, and into a seat. He kissed her on the cheek and winked his admiration. Katherine went down next, taking far too much time with each step.

“There, Katherine, it’s all right. I’m right here.” Edward assisted her, and then Sara, who had no choice else she be left behind.

“Good show, Billy,” Edward called up to him.

The boy beamed and tossed the rope down. Kyle rowed to shore. Another dory was already moored, its contents being unloaded. Men piled their luggage on a cart drawn by a chestnut horse that looked in much better condition than the one in Boston Harbour.

Edward jumped up onto a rickety dock and pulled the boat parallel. Kyle tossed him a rope to secure it and helped each of them, in turn, to stand on a seat and step onto the pier. A sense of accomplishment filled Elisabeth. She’d managed with aplomb. Perhaps now Edward would reconsider her seaworthiness.

“Ladies, it was a pleasure.” Kyle bowed before he dashed into the arms of a woman holding a toddler on her hip.

Elisabeth studied her—the kind of woman she was about to become—dressed in an unadorned ankle-length dress and work boots, hair braided and pinned up, escaped strands blowing about her face.

The child appeared to be about two, a boy, dressed in short breeches. He squirmed with delight when he saw his father. Kyle took him from his wife and tossed the boy playfully into the air. The baby’s squeals of laughter echoed as they went on their way. Similar shows of affection repeated themselves all around them. Unlike Boston, there seemed to be no upper or lower class in Brewster, at least at Breakwater Beach.