Ransome's Crossing (30 page)

Heat flared in her face. She had pitched forward into her plate of food. Good thing Kent had not been there to see it, or he would never let her forget the ignominy of it.

Light blazed to her right—more than a few candles or lanterns. Turning her head took more effort than it should have, but she accomplished it. A bank of windows lined the length of the room, the brightness blinding her momentarily to all other detail.

“You are awake.” A figure moved between Charlotte and the light. A figure in a flowered, yellow dress.

Charlotte rolled her head back to center, wincing at the still-tender spot at the back. “Miss Witherington?”

Julia smiled down at her. “No. It is Mrs. Ransome now. But as we are sisters, you are supposed to call me Julia.”

“How did I…?” Charlotte lifted the blanket and looked down at her body. Someone had changed her from her uniform into a white sleeping gown, with feminine ruffles at the wrists and high neck. Her eyes snapped back up to Julia. “If you…then William…oh, no!”

“Yes, William knows. You and Captain Cochrane came aboard five days ago. He is still quite ill. You had us worried for a few days, but your case turned out to be milder than Mr. Cochrane’s.”

“Is Ned—Captain Cochrane—is he going to recover?”

“Yes. His fever has yet to break, but the doctor is hopeful he will be well again by the time we reach Jamaica.”

“William does not blame Captain Cochrane, does he? I have no desire for him to pay the price for my foolish actions.” The idea Ned might
lose his commission and be disrated back down to midshipman—or worse, be made an ordinary seaman—or be thrown out of the navy altogether weighed down on her as if the ship itself sat atop her chest.

“William will deal with Captain Cochrane as he sees fit.”

“And me?” Charlotte hated the wispiness, the childishness, in her voice.

“I will not dissemble. He is still angry with you—especially now that the danger is past and he knows you will recover.” Julia straightened the blanket. “Why did you do this, Charlotte? Was it because of Henry Winchester?”

Charlotte had closed her eyes in preparation to feign sleep but popped them open again at the mention of Henry’s name. “Henry Winchester?”

“The steward at Tierra Dulce. The man your mother wrote to William about almost two years ago expressing her concern over his attentions to you. The man who has been writing you letters in secret and asked you to marry him. William and I concluded that your disguise, your willingness to suffer through working as a midshipman to journey to Jamaica was in an effort to marry Henry Winchester and not because of the legal troubles with Lord Rotheram.”

“What legal troubles with Lord Rotheram?”

Charlotte listened in horror as Julia told her of Collin’s visit to William the night before they left Portsmouth. “Mama must have been frantic when they could not find me. I sent her a brief letter from Madeira. I made it sound as if I was traveling with you and William so she would not worry.” She reached up and dashed at the tears that escaped. “I never meant to hurt her or William or you. I only wanted to get to Henry.”

“Do you truly love him so much?”

Astonished by Julia’s surprised tone, Charlotte stopped drying her face with a corner of the blanket. “Yes…well…I thought I did when I left Portsmouth.”

“What changed?” Julia pulled a handkerchief from under her sash and wiped away the remaining moisture from Charlotte’s cheeks.

“I changed. Becoming a midshipman, learning what I could do, meeting N—other people.” Charlotte closed her eyes against the comprehension that flooded Julia’s expression.

“Ned Cochrane.” She tweaked Charlotte’s chin. “You could do worse than the acting captain of His Majesty’s Ship
Audacious.”

“I was so young when I knew Henry—not quite sixteen. I know, it has been less than two years, but so much has happened since then. Julia, I do not even remember his face or the sound of his voice. And whenever I think about Ned…” She groaned and covered her face with her hands.

“You feel very much like another seventeen-year-old girl did when she fell in love with a handsome but poor lieutenant just home from the war.”

Charlotte opened her eyes and studied her sister-in-law’s face, trying to imagine Julia as anything other than the distinguished woman she knew. “You?”

Julia laughed. “I. When I was your age, my father retrieved my mother and me from Jamaica during the Peace of Amiens. It was the first time I had been to England since he took us to the plantation when I was ten. It was also the first time I had seen your brother since then. He seemed to be courting me; he seemed to admire me as much as I admired him. And at the ball to celebrate my father’s knighthood, when your brother invited me for a stroll in the gardens, I accepted, expecting he would propose to me.”

As Julia warmed to her story, Charlotte could see more of the young woman she used to be. “And did he?”

“I did not.” William’s voice startled both of them. “But it was a mistake God allowed me to rectify.” He slipped his arm around Julia’s waist and kissed her temple.

Charlotte’s heart raced, but not at the unusual show of affection from her brother toward his wife. “William, I am sorry. I made a foolish choice.”

“Aye, you did. And we shall discuss the consequences of your actions soon. But first you must recover your strength.” William gave her a
brief, almost terse nod, and, after a rustling of papers on his desk, departed as quietly as he’d appeared.

Charlotte tried to push herself into more of a sitting position, but even in the box-style hammock, sitting was nigh impossible. “Does… does the crew know who I am? Why I am here?”

Julia assisted her by propping her pillow behind her back. “The doctor knows you are the young woman who came from
Audacious
dressed as a midshipman. Only William’s steward knows your true identity—he recognized you from having seen you so often in Collin’s home—but he swore to William he would not reveal your presence to anyone. The rest of the crew know there has been a young woman in the great cabin since we departed from Barbados, but most believe you came aboard there because you are the daughter of someone important who needed transport to Jamaica. I believe, from the doctor’s vague explanation to his mates as to Midshipman Charles Lott’s disappearance from the sick berth, word that the boy did not survive the yellow fever has proliferated throughout the ship.”

The idea of the death of Charles Lott struck Charlotte almost as hard as if he had been someone she knew for a long time—a childhood friend. “When can I visit the sick berth? I wish to explain and apologize to Captain Cochrane.”

“As soon as Ned’s fever has broken and you are strong enough to walk so far.”

“How long until we dock in Jamaica?”

“Five days.” Julia probably did not realize how wide her smile grew nor how her eyes sparkled at the knowledge they were less than a week from arriving at her home.

Very well, then. Charlotte had five days to regain her strength, convince Ned to forgive her, and resign herself to marrying Henry Winchester. After all, she had given him her word.

N
ed awoke to the familiar rocking of the hammock. Six days he’d been aboard
Alexandra.
Yesterday, when his fever broke and he could think coherently, he informed William of his intent to resign his commision. He had yet to receive a response from the commodore.

He turned his face toward the light streaming in through the gun port. A woman in a pale gown was perched atop the cannon, reading. He had never seen Julia wear one of the white, fluffy mobcaps his mother and sister were so fond of, nor could he imagine her seated in such a casual manner on the enormous piece of artillery.

“Charlotte?” His voice came out rough and raspy.

The figure turned. “You are awake.” She slid down from her perch, set the book on a nearby trunk, and came to stand beside the bed. “How do you feel?”

He frowned. “You are out of uniform.”

Her smile brightened the room. “Aye, sir. I am.”

“Then they know?”

“William and Julia know—and the doctor. And William’s steward. Everyone else believes I am a passenger being taken by William as a favor to an old friend from Barbados to Jamaica.”

“And Midshipman Lott?” Ned looked over at the empty hammock she had spent her first few hours aboard
Alexandra
in.

She hung her head to the side in an approximation of sorrow. “Poor Mr. Lott did not survive yellow fever. He was buried quietly at sea—well, he would have been if William had agreed to my suggestion.”

“You are well? Fully recovered?”

“I tire easily, and my appetite has not returned. And you? How do you feel?”

“Like a ship capsized in a storm and smashed upon a rocky shore.”

“How did you know?”

The question took him aback. “Know what?”

“About me? And why did you never say anything to me?” Charlotte reached up and started twining the ribbon that hung from the mobcap around her fingers.

Despite feeling he dragged
Alexandra’s
and
Audacious
’s anchors up with it, he raised his hand and captured hers. “This, for one. Charles Lott worried the buttons on his coat the same way Charlotte Ransome worries her ribbons.”

She looked down at their joined hands, and he released her.

“I do apologize. I meant no offense.”

“I was not—you did not offend me in the slightest.”

“Your face.”

“My face?”

He closed his eyes a moment, realizing how mad he sounded, speaking in discombobulated bits and pieces. He looked at her before speaking again. “Your face is too beautiful to be a boy’s face. And your eyes. How could I forget having looked into them when we danced at your debut ball?”

Charlotte’s cheeks changed from pale to bright red in an instant.

“How did you manage it, Miss Ransome? You had the book learning; I knew that from questioning you myself. But the physical labor. You could have had little opportunity to test yourself in such a manner.” Drawing together the little strength he possessed, he pushed himself up with his elbows into a more upright position.

“With only Mama and me at home, I had great freedom. If she knew I spent my afternoons, when she thought I was visiting with friends or tucked away in a corner of the garden reading, learning how to tie a rope ladder, and then climbing a tree to hang it from to simulate climbing the shrouds, she would never have let me out of her sight.”

“So you had been planning for a long time to do this?”

“No. I started doing it as a little girl because I wanted to be like my brothers. I continued doing it because I enjoyed the physical exertion.” She helped him adjust the pillow behind his back and then crossed to the small table and poured him a cup of water.

He had not realized how thirsty he was until the liquid touched his lips. “Living in the cockpit, you managed to keep your true self hidden.”

“Yes. With access to the privacy of the roundhouse privy and the need to change one’s clothes only rarely, the boys suspected nothing.”

The question he wanted to ask ever since discovering who Charles Lott was tumbled out. “What do you want that is so important you would not only submit yourself to the demanding life and duties of a midshipman, but that you would continue to do it after you made an enemy of Mr. Kent?”

She shrugged and reached up to toy with the ribbon again. “I had—have my reasons. Looking back, I was being childish and selfish. I fear I created more problems for everyone—you, William, my entire family. But even though I was foolhardy to choose the action I took, I promised something and I will follow through on that promise.”

The ruffled cap slipped off her head, revealing the short, blunt hair he’d become accustomed to seeing on Mr. Lott.

“And you, Captain Cochrane? Why have you told my brother that you desire to resign your commission? The fault is completely mine. I have taken full responsibility.”

For the first time, the voices came back—the echoes of their screams. “No. I should never have agreed to command
Audacious.
Both times I have been put in command of a vessel, I have made an ill-informed decision that proves my unfitness to be a ship’s captain.”

“The crew of
Audacious
—most of them—would disagree with you. Particularly those who served under Captain Yates before serving under Captain Parker. Hamilton, Martin, Jamison, and many others sang your praises and hoped you would be confirmed as captain and have
Audacious
as your posting.”

Ned clamped his back teeth together. He had made a decision he
felt benefitted the ship—letting Charlotte continue with her masquerade. But would Commodore Ransome see it that way?

“Captain Cochrane, please allow me to beg your forgiveness. Although I would never have wished either of us ill, it is only because our illness—some might call it an act of Providence—that we were able to leave
Audacious
with my identity and your reputation intact. I could have ruined the career of one of the best officers in the Royal Navy. For that I deeply apologize, and I hope that one day you might think better of me.”

How could he think better of her than he did now? He loved her. Before he could articulate this, however, the doctor entered.

“Good afternoon, Miss Charlotte. Captain Cochrane, it is good to see you awake and able to make the effort to sit up. Do not overtax him, Miss Charlotte. He needs his rest to regain his strength. We dock in Kingston in four days.” The doctor nodded at both of them and then disappeared into his office.

Ned reached for Charlotte’s hand again. “Charlotte, I lo—”

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” William entered the sick berth with Julia just behind him. “Charlotte, Julia will walk you back to the cabin. I wish to speak with Mr. Cochrane.”

Ned did not miss the implication of William’s use of
mister.
It was better he have this talk with William, to determine if he had a future that could promise Charlotte anything but poverty, before he spoke to her of his feelings.

He struggled to push himself into even more of an upright position as William stood near the foot of the hammock and clasped his hands behind his back. Dr. Hawthorne stepped out of his office, took one look at William, and then went back into the small room, closing the door behind him.

William waited until the door closed behind Julia and Charlotte before speaking. “I have carefully considered your request regarding your resignation. Your reasons for wishing to be released from service were cogent and logically argued.”

Hollowness consumed Ned, but he tried to keep his face as expressionless as William’s. “Thank you, sir.”

“Request denied.”

“I will take my leave—I beg your pardon?”

“Your request to resign your position is denied.”

“But…Miss Ransome…”

“You made an error in judgment. I would make myself a liar if I said I always made the correct decisions.” William released a soft sigh. “There are two choices you can make from your mistake, Ned. You can let it take you aback, throw you off course, and sink you, or you can determine a new heading and let what you’ve learned from your mistake guide you.”

William turned and reached to open the door. “The choice is yours. I expect to know your final decision before we make port at Jamaica.” With a quick nod, he left the sick berth.

Ned released the tension in his upper body and melted down into the hammock. The choice was his. He could resign and walk away from the navy and, hopefully, never have to make life-and-death decisions again, or he could stay and face his seeming inability to make the correct choice in the face of danger or disaster.

If he thought of it in other terms, he could quit and have no income—and no prospects of income—to support a wife, or he could stay in the navy, learn how to be a better officer, and expand his prospects for future promotion and means and perhaps someday soon be considered a worthy suitor for…someone.

He stared up at the planks of the deck above and hoped William’s faith that God did indeed listen to and answer prayers was justified. Because, as past and recent history proved, Ned could not trust himself to make the correct decision on his own.

“Where is she?”

Julia looked up from the list of questions she wanted to ask Henry Winchester as soon as she arrived home. “Pardon?”

“Charlotte. She is supposed to stay in the cabin with you.” William clapped his hat down onto his desk.

Despite Julia’s best efforts, the young woman had slipped away on three occasions since rising from her sickbed two days ago and being instructed to stay in the great cabin. Julia glanced around and sighed. “She was reading on the window seat only a short while ago. I apologize. I became immersed in my work.”

“It is unfair for you to have to serve as her jailer.” He crossed to look over her shoulder at the papers and ledgers spread out before her. “Have you informed her yet?”

“That I suspect the man she has secretly been carrying on a correspondence with and formed an illicit engagement with has stolen more than ten thousand pounds from me? No.” Julia set down her quill, placed her hands on the small of her back, and stretched away the stiffness of hours spent pouring over the ledgers and Jeremiah’s letters. “I still hold on to the hope that she will listen to her brother and give up the idea that she must marry Winchester because she sent him a letter—without the knowledge of her family—stating that she would.”

William’s lips quirked in a half smile. “I have long given up hope that the women in my life will listen to anything I have to say.”

“Some may yet learn.”

Her husband’s forgiveness, and the ease with which he had accepted her apologies and excuses for why she had kept such a secret from him, made her feel at once better and worse—better that the burden of the conspiratorial knowledge no longer stood between them, and worse because she knew she did not deserve such grace, mercy, and love. Both drove her to determine she would never do anything that would risk his good opinion again.

“You did not hear her leave?”

Julia glanced around again, still finding a cabin devoid of Charlotte Ransome. “No, but I can easily guess where she went.” She tucked the letters and lists into the ledger, closed it, and set it down in the top desk drawer. “I shall retrieve her.”

“I will be on the poop deck sending instructions to the other ships.
Send Dawling for me when you return.” He retrieved his hat and returned to duty.

Julia took a lantern and went down the companionway just outside of the great cabin. She preferred walking across the deck, in the delicious sunlight, before heading down into the dark, dank gun decks below, but with the heightened security measures William had set in place because of the increased risk of pirate attacks, he had requested she stay off the upper decks as much as possible.

As expected, she found Charlotte in the sick berth, seated across a small table from Ned, playing backgammon with him. He looked up and stood as soon as he saw Julia.

She waved him back down into his chair, though he did not take his seat again. “You are looking well this morning, Captain Cochrane.” Though still gaunt from his illness, emphasized by the way his uniform hung on him, color filled his cheeks and his eyes sparked with life. “I do apologize, but I must interrupt your game. Charlotte, you are needed in the great cabin.”