Breakwater Beach (7 page)

“I’m not an idiot. Dad handled all the finances, but I was always involved in decision-making. I’ve thought this through very carefully.”

Jay’s voice went up several octaves. “Dad appointed Bill. Why don’t you at least consider his advice?”

She matched her son’s shrill tone. “I don’t trust that Bill has my best interests in mind.” Unable to sit and defend herself yet again, Liz pushed back her chair and went to the kitchen counter. “I’m buying the house, and no one is going to stop me. Your father agreed with these plans. It’s something we always wanted to do after retirement, and now is the right time for me.” 

Jay finished the dumplings in spicy Szechuan sauce and chicken and broccoli.

Liz opened her fortune cookie, laughed, and read it out loud. “‘Life is not a dress rehearsal.’”

“I don’t find that funny, Mom.” Jay dumped his plate into the dishwasher, then stomped out of the kitchen and up the stairs. The pounding on each step echoed in her ears, and then the final bang reverberated like a gunshot. They seemed to be at odds about everything these days. Invoking the pre-approval Gerry had given was not going to make a difference.

Liz tidied up and took a bath. Chilled despite her flannel nightgown and robe, likely more to do with Bill Jeffers than the weather, she tried to get comfortable in the living room. In the real-life funk she was in, the sit-coms were ridiculous and the thrillers too disconcerting. She couldn’t concentrate on reading. The sofa was far too narrow. She longed to stretch out in her bed, curl up to her pillow, and feel someone touch her with love and desire, not just lust. Gerry. 

She wandered into her bedroom, stared in the mirror, and didn’t recognize the woman looking back. It seemed she was out of her body, standing above, staring down at a too-thin, too pale stranger with stringy hair that badly needed a touch-up. Gray snaked from the roots on her crown and around the temples like a visible infestation of grief, staining what used to be a vibrant auburn a dull, lifeless ochre. Dark circles and worry lines bled through the cover-up. Who was this dried up crone? Drained of all energy—emotional and physical—she flopped down on the bare mattress to rest.

Gerry, healthy and strong, lay next to her. “Liz, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I love you.”

It had been so long since they’d made love. Her skin tingled as his hands traveled to all the spots he knew so well. She traced his back and searched out the places he liked her to touch. Her foot traced down his leg, her arms drew him toward her. He pressed against her, into her, all the while kissing her face and tousling her hair until an orgasm overtook them both.

“Please don’t go, Gerry.” Liz held on, trying to recapture the feeling of being tangled up in him, relaxed and comfortable, safe and cherished. She awoke to only flannel keeping her warm. The bare mattress, with no pillows, no blankets, and no one else on it reminded her all too quickly it had been a dream.

“You promised to always be there for me. I can’t do this alone.” The silence that greeted her only intensified the anguish. “Goddammit, Gerry, tell me what to do!”

Pent-up fury at the unfairness of it all propelled Liz to her feet. Here, in the middle of what used to be their bedroom, the same pictures on the dresser, his clothes still handing in the closets, everything reminded her of Gerry, so everything that reminded her she no longer had Gerry needed to go. She been holding his hand, and it turned limp, blue, and cold when he’d died in that bed. Not even the glorious dream of his return visit could erase that horrible memory.

Liz shoved the mattress off the frame onto the floor. She tried to drag it out of the bedroom and down the stairs, but it was too big to handle alone. As she struggled to lift and push, it bent and got stuck in the balusters. Liz pounded her fist into the mattress until her hand and wrist ached from hitting the springs. Defeated, she sat on the floor at the top of the stairs and cried.

Jay shuffled out of his room in baggy sweats. His sleepy eyes widened at the scene. “What the hell are you doing, Mom? It’s the middle of the night.” He sat down next to her and draped his arm around her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

Gone was his usual confrontational manner. She’d probably scared him. She’d scared herself.

“Help me take this outside to the curb for the trash.” Liz wiped tears away with the sleeve of her nightgown.

“Where are you going to sleep if you throw your mattress away?” Sleepiness softened his voice.

The touch of his arm around her shoulders reminded Liz of when he was very little and still liked to be hugged, which only furthered her sense of loss and sadness at the passage of time. “Jay, I haven’t slept in this bed since your father died. Until tonight.”

“You must have had a bad dream.”

“Actually, it was a very good dream. That’s why I have to move. I can’t live here without your father. And when you leave, it will be even worse. I have to get rid of everything. Start over. Build something new.” There were no more tears to cry. She was emptied of all emotion, like a hollow shell scrubbed clean by rough surf and washed up on the beach.

“Okay, Mom. But let’s just bring it downstairs. We can take it outside in the morning.”

They dragged and pushed the heavy mattress, and then the box spring, down the steps and stacked them by the front door. Jay hugged her and went back to bed. She fell asleep sitting up on the living room sofa.

The warmth of the sun coming through the windows woke her. She made coffee for Jay and even had a cup herself, just for the caffeine jolt. As she cooked bacon and eggs, Jay ambled downstairs, fully dressed.

“It smelled so good in here, I had to get up. Are you sure you’re okay, Mom?” Tiredness clouded his eyes, and concern still softened his touch on her shoulder.

“I’m fine, Jay, really.” Liz forced that smile again, wishing he’d stop staring at her like she was a time bomb about to blow up.

After breakfast, he helped her take the bedding out for the trash collection. Seeing it piled next to the curb felt better than looking at it naked and empty in her bedroom. The decision to move was the right one.

Chapter 8

Spring 1873

Berkshire and London, England

“Miss Baxter is twenty-seven, and I am twenty-eight.” Edward handed over their baptismal certificates.

The civil registrar in Berkshire puttered about the office. “Where are those spectacles?” He held the forms so close to his face that his nose brushed the paper.   

“No need for parental permission then. Mr. Barrett, your father was a farmer here in Berkshire. Deceased. Miss Baxter, your father is a . . . What does that say? Ah, a Lather. From? We must establish place of residence.”

Elisabeth glanced at Edward. He shook his head to warn her not to correct him. The man’s misinterpretation was of no consequence. She hadn’t lied, and they were of age. But this was too good to be true.

Elisabeth looked back at the registrar. “Surrey.”

“You’ve traveled a good bit then. No family attending?”

“Just my brother—as witness.” Edward handed the registrar his assignment letter from Somersell Shipping and
The Sea Mist
’s bill of lading. “He’s all the family I’ve got, and I’m leaving in two days’ time.”

While the fellow again pressed his face to the page, Edward’s brother smiled and winked. Edmond had been right. The man was half-blind and too good-natured to refuse any reasonable request for an expedited ceremony.

Edmond now lived in their old farmhouse. He’d agreed to allow Edward to stay there to meet the residency requirement and even offered to hide Elisabeth until Edward could send for her. But the disruption to his family would have been too great, especially if His Lordship tracked his daughter down and found out where the ceremony had taken place and who was in attendance.

The registrar abandoned the search for spectacles and waved his hands in surrender. He studied the paperwork. “Protestant and Catholic, eh. No religious ceremony planned then?”

“When I return we’ll have the vows solemnized in a church.” Edward wanted the questions to end and it all to be done before something went amiss. No matter how fortuitous the registrar’s visual problems were in transposing Lord into Lather, too many questions were likely to lead to answers, which would confound the whole deal.

“Step over here.” The registrar’s lips curled into a benevolent smile. He raised his hands like a priest, obviously enjoying this part of the job.

Edward had given Edmond the out-of-date suit he’d bought when he first met Elisabeth. He sported his full dress uniform. With the brass trimmings he for once outshone Elisabeth in drab green wool, with no jewelry. Katherine had abandoned her maid’s attire, and the two women looked like villagers out for a day of marketing. Edward took Elisabeth’s hand. Katherine and Edmond stood behind them.

The registrar handed Edward a copy of the vows to read. Edward turned to Elisabeth and cleared his throat. He paused to bask in the happiness that shone in her eyes.

“I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, Edward Paul Barrett, may not be joined in matrimony to Elisabeth Jane Baxter. I call upon these persons here present to witness that I, Edward Barrett, do take thee, Elisabeth Jane Baxter, to be my lawful wedded wife.” He handed her the paper.

Elisabeth smiled and spoke with no hesitation. “I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, Elisabeth Jane Baxter, may not be joined in matrimony to Edward Paul Barrett. I call upon these persons here present to witness that I, Elisabeth Baxter, do take thee, Edward Barrett, to be my lawful, wedded husband.”

Edward slipped the tiny gold band he’d bought onto her finger. She’d remove and hide it away very soon, but he couldn’t allow this day to pass without at least some token of their union.

“Very well, I declare you man and wife. You are free to kiss your bride, Captain Barrett.”

Edward gathered her into his arms. The awkward embrace in front of virtual strangers seemed particularly odd since, for the foreseeable future, they wouldn’t be able to publicly share more than a passing glance. Their closed lips touched for a brief moment before Elisabeth pulled away, blushing. Though now he could have her, fear at what could happen robbed him of any desire.

The registrar smiled and summoned Katherine and Edmond to approach the desk to sign the form. Edward paid the fee and left a small gratuity in thanks to God for what had to have been divine intervention.

After preparing their copy, the fellow shuffled back to work documenting the mundania of life in Berkshire. Edward took Elisabeth’s arm and led the way out. The bright afternoon sunshine blinded Edward for a moment. He turned his back against the glare. They paused on the town hall steps for a moment of strained silence.

Edmond embraced him. “Godspeed, brother.”

“Thank you for your help.” Edward patted his brother’s back. It had been many years since they’d shared a bed in the tiny house his brother now lived in with his own family. Edward hadn’t known his nieces and nephews, or their mother, until he showed up on the doorstep, but he was nevertheless welcomed with open arms. More than he deserved, but thankfully his brother held no ill will toward his wayward sibling.

Edmond helped the women into the waiting Hansom cab. “Fare thee well, ladies. If you need shelter you’re always welcome here, Elisabeth.” He closed the door and spoke to Edward in a whisper. “Blood runs thick. Stay out of trouble for once, little brother.”

“I will, as long as I stay out of London. His Lordship has already dredged up some dirt from my pirating days. There are always drunken sailors willing to spill for rum money. The constabulary might soon be on me like flies on honey. I fear you might become involved.”

“I can offer her safe haven if need be, and see that she gets on her way to you safely.” Edmond opened the door.

“I shall stay in contact.” Edward lingered on the step of the cab, then got in and settled next to Elisabeth.

Edmond clasped his hand through the window. “I hope you’ll both be happy.” He then called to the driver. “Back to the Kensington.”

Edward turned to watch Edmond making his way home. He’d likely never see his brother or the homestead again. A pang of grief washed over him. What had he done, and for what? He could have married a girl from Berkshire and been a lot safer as a poor farmer.

Choice always made one wonder what would have been, if different paths had been taken. He’d turned from pirate to captain to avoid always being on the run from someone, somewhere. Then he’d stolen an earl’s daughter from under his nose. He had to get as far away as possible. And soon.

Elisabeth held Edward’s hand tightly, perhaps ruminating over her own regrets. Katherine sat ramrod straight, staring past both of them as the landscape turned from country lanes to London streetscapes. How did Katherine feel about participating in their scheme to hide the marriage until Edmond received the tickets and came to collect her? A servitor risking the wrath of Lord Baxter was no laughing matter. Though he trusted Edmond to fulfill his promise, there were far too many things that could go awry. Would Elisabeth be able escape to safe passage when he sent for her?

“Leave me at the docks, my friend.” Edward directed the driver to his ship’s berth. “See you shortly, my love.” He kissed her on the cheek.

The Sea Mist
bobbed in the water. He resisted the temptation to go back aboard and walked to the hotel to allow enough time for Elisabeth and Katherine to go to their room and change clothes. Money was fast running out; spent on the ring, the room, and Katherine’s expenses.

The plan was for the maid to distract the chaperone and stay in his room, leaving him and Elisabeth alone in the larger one. The wedding night was always a delicate matter and, since an unmarried maid was the only other female who knew about this, Edward suspected little discussion of marital relations had occurred.

Elisabeth had arranged for a shopping trip, but would be returning home in two days with a bigger secret than how many new dresses, hats, and shoes she’d purchased. Edward had held his ship in port as long as he could. They only had one full day and two nights to spend together, and that day was nearly over. Tomorrow she had to put in an appearance at the dressmakers and he had business to attend to. How had she talked him into this?

The sight of Elisabeth, now bedecked in her finery, in the lobby with a phalanx of other noblewomen considerably improved his mood. He walked by, forcing himself not to stare at her. The dowager, in sky-blue satin, with a superfluous bustle, wore a matching hat, which seemed far too brash on her silver hair. Her voice, giving instructions about something or another, was as big as the woman’s physical presence. She resembled a peacock with an erect tail.

His room was on the third floor, but he went to the fifth. He stared at the long row of closed doors, wondering which one was Elisabeth’s. Katherine peeped her head out of one at the end of the hall and, when she saw him, she retrieved a satchel and hurried over. Women’s voices drifted up the stairs.

“Quickly, they’re on the way.” Edward carried Katherine’s things as they dashed down the stairs and ducked into the room he’d checked into this morning. His heart pounded. How would they ever get away with this?

“Here is my key. And money for meals.” He shoved it into Katherine’s sweaty palm.

“I shall be by to see if you need anything, Captain. The countess is staying in the room next to . . . yours.” Her face blushed crimson, and she tucked her chin into the lace collar of her dress.

“Carry on as you and Elisabeth would normally.” Edward’s only experience with servitors was watching cabin boys dump chamber pots over the side of the ship. Hardly the same intimate relationship a maid had with her lady.

“Of course, Captain.”

Katherine closed the door and looked as happy as he that the encounter was over. He climbed upstairs again, focused on thought of his bride waiting, trying to suppress the unease and the guilt. He would have her then leave her to fend for herself, and his brother to take the risk to his life and livelihood. The hall on the fifth floor was empty. He rapped lightly at her door.

“Katherine?” Elisabeth’s voice was light, anticipating trouble no doubt.

“No, my lady. I think you might have lost something.” He fingered the handkerchief she’d dropped the night they’d met in the gazebo.

Elisabeth opened the door a crack and smiled when she saw the memento. He slipped inside. Draped in green silk, she was another delight amidst the array of food and drink. Candles flickered on the table, and she gestured to a chair on the opposite side. “I’ve arranged room service, and tea, through tomorrow. It won’t do for us to be seen together.” She poured two glasses of wine.

Edward sank into his chair. He’d hardly expected a marathon tea party and hungered for more than food.

Elisabeth held a glass up, and he raised his as well. “I’m sure you’re anxious to claim your wife.” She took a long swallow.

He’d imagined for months and months what it would be like to possess her. Was it fair for him to enjoy her for such a short period of time and then leave her alone, with no one who understood the complexities of marital relations? A growing unease over how they had rushed into this tickled his conscience.

“Perhaps it would be best to wait until you join me in America. We have so little time. I’ll go back to my room and let Katherine return here.”

Elisabeth shook her head. “What kind of marriage starts out with no intimacy? One of convenience, I suppose.”

His wife appeared so delicate, her voice lilting. Only the repeated knitting of fingers belied her anxiety. He reached across and took both her hand into his. “I don’t want to leave you frightened with no one to talk to. And what if you conceive?”

“I’m prepared for any eventuality, Edward.” Elisabeth put down her fork and folded her napkin neatly on the table. She rose and walked to him, then leaned down, kissed, and nuzzled his cheek.

The scent of her skin, the brush of her hair against his cheek, the doe-eyed expression and plump, pursed lipped smile erased any misgivings. Elisabeth was as ready as any woman to offer herself to her husband for the first time. Letting her take the lead lessened his concern, though the niggling in his gut continued to compete with the fire she’d ignited in his loins.

Without a word, Elisabeth went into the dressing area behind a gauzy screen. To keep occupied, he slid the trolley into the hall.

She stepped out from behind the screen, the dress unbuttoned in the back, still covering her shoulders. “I need help to undo the stays.”

Edward fumbled with the laces, releasing her chest from bondage. His fingers brushed the warm, smooth skin of her back just visible under the chemise. She shivered. Still clutching the dress over her breasts, she hurried back behind the screen. Yards of fabric rustled and she tossed it over the curtained supports, blocking out her silhouette.

He imagined her bending to unbutton her shoes, slipping off pantalets, then releasing the garters. Off would come her stockings, one-by-one. Or would she have him help with those as well?

She emerged wearing only a white linen shift. Her curves draped in the translucent fabric obliterated all reluctance in the vortex of desire. He walked toward her, shedding his boots, socks, and shirt. Bare-chested, he took her into his arms and ran his hands up and down her back. He kissed her gently on the mouth, and then down her neck. She stroked his face with both hands and tilted back her head to give him more room.

Edward stopped for a moment to undo his trousers. A far cry from the tavern girls who could make a sailor blush, Elisabeth hid under the covers. He kept his back turned to shield his naked erection from her view. When they finally lay, face-to-face, he reached up and removed the combs from her hair, until the burnt cinnamon tresses tumbled around her shoulders. Edward curled the fragrant strands around his fingers, cradled her head in his hands, and kissed her on the lips. Her mouth opened slightly, and their tongues touched. He nibbled down her neck toward her breasts, and she sighed.