Ransome's Honor (7 page)

“Then it is even more important that you are able to greet him with indifference and allow no one to see that his presence in Portsmouth affects you in the least.” Susan swiveled in her seat as Julia paced around behind the settee. “And perhaps, if you can put your lingering anger aside, you might find that the years have changed you both for the better—”

Julia stopped and pressed her fingers to her hot cheeks. “Susan, please. Do not ask me for more than I can give.”

“Of course,” Susan rushed to agree. “I would never imagine to tell you what you should think. I had just hoped...” She crossed the parlor to pull the bell cord.

“You had just hoped to see me married to your husband’s dearest friend in the world.”

The Yateses’ carriage was ready for Julia before William returned.

“Please do not be angry with me, Julia.” Susan held her hands out to Julia. “I cannot bear to part with you if you think ill of anything I said or intended today.”

“Never fear.” She took Susan’s hands and squeezed them. “I am incapable of staying angry with you. I shall see you tomorrow morning at church.” She allowed the driver to assist her up into the barouche.

“I will be wearing my new bonnet, thanks to you. You must be sure to observe it from a distance so you can tell me if it is becoming or not.”

Down the road, Julia saw a flicker and recognized it as the sunset flashing off the gold braid on a navy captain’s uniform. “Farewell, my friend.”

The carriage rolled away just as William Ransome stopped beside Susan and offered his arm to escort her inside. Julia sank back against the soft leather seat.

William Ransome was more handsome than Julia had ever imagined him—and she had imagined him quite a lot over the years, reading about him in her father’s letters, in spite of the vow she’d made to never forgive him.

The solicitude he had shown toward Mrs. Hinds and Susan, his stated desire to help those families struggling to feed themselves due to husbands and sons being turned out from the Royal Navy, made the long-held resentment she’d nurtured for half her life chafe like roughly woven wool.

Chapter Five

T
he dockyard bustled with sudden activity when a ship in the distance furled its sails and dropped anchor. Julia raised up on her toes, looking above the swirling mass of people to find the dockmaster she had spoken with earlier. The seaman-whose weather-beaten complexion resembled the hull of a ship covered in barnacles—saw her and moved her direction.

“Master O’Reilley—do you know which ship has just put in?”

“Yes, miss. She be the
Audacious
, sixty-four.”

Susan grabbed Julia’s forearm, beaming. “It’s his ship—Collin’s ship! He’s here.”

“Ye be Mrs. Captain Yates, then?” the dockmaster turned his sharp gaze on Susan.

“Yes, I be Mrs. Captain Yates.” Susan arched a saucy brow.

“And ye be?” He turned to Julia.

“Julia Witherington.”

“Admiral Sir Edward Witherington’s daughter? Come with me.”

Julia grabbed Susan’s hand as the dockmaster disappeared into the crowd. After avoiding several crates and cargo nets, they climbed a set of stone stairs to an elevated rampart overlooking the quay. The marine guard at the top of the steps nodded at Master O’Reilley and let them pass with no objection.

“Here. This be the best place for ladies to wait for the captain’s return. If ye need aught, be sure to send for me.”

“Thank you, Master O’Reilley”

The man scuttled off to his work. Julia perched on the low stone wall.

“I am so happy you agreed to come, Julia. The dockmaster would not have afforded
me
such a courtesy.” Susan paced a small circuit, her hands fluttering with anxious energy.

“I think they would have.”

“If only William had not been called in to the port Admiralty this morning...” Susan stopped and looked at Julia, a glimmer in her eyes.

The embarrassment and discomfort of their surprise meeting Saturday still simmered in Julia’s stomach. Avoiding him at church yesterday had been easy enough. She’d only had to stay in the company of her aunt, who never deigned to speak to any naval officer or officer’s wife unless under extreme social duress. As they’d exited St. Thomas’s, Susan had found Julia and invited her to come along this morning to greet Collin.

Julia cleared her throat. “I am certain—”

“Oh, look—the ship’s boats are being lowered.”

Saved from having to speak of William, Julia stood and clamped her hand to the brim of her bonnet as a strong gust of wind whipped her face.

“You know it will be a while yet before Collin can disembark.”

Susan fluttered her hand. “Oh, yes. I know. I have met him here many times.”

As each boat left Audacious and rowed toward the docks, Susan announced it with unbridled glee. Launches from other ships brought in crates of all shapes and sizes. If they were in Jamaica, the market near the dockyard in Kingston would be ablaze with colors and music and the voices of vendors as they hawked their wares. The sultry air would be heavy with exotic smells of cinnamon and coconut, the rich smoke of pork and goat cooked over large fires.

“Why did you sigh?” Susan sank onto the embrasure beside her.

“Did I?” Julia came back to the dank-smelling, gray-and-blue present. “I was thinking of Jamaica.”

Susan’s smile dimmed. “Every time you say ‘Jamaica,’ I can see you miss it just a little more.”

“Just as you would miss England should you be gone from these shores nearly a year. I want to go back...”

“And yet?”

Julia gazed out over the harbor, amusement tickling her insides. “How well you have come to know me. I want to go home, yet I do not want to leave my father. I have spent so much of my life away from him, but at least I had my mother.”

“With no family remaining in Jamaica, what is it that calls you back there?”

“Oh, I have family there.”

Susan’s expression showed her shock. “But I thought...your father...?”

“My Jamaican family are not related to me by blood; however, they are my family nonetheless. They are the people who helped raise me when my mother was too ill, who taught me how to run the plantation, who supported and loved me when my mother died. Who want me to come home.”

“You mean...you mean the...” Susan leaned forward and dropped her voice to a whisper.
“Slaves?”

An old ember Julia thought had long since died away flamed back to life. “They are not slaves.” She kept her voice even. “Not anymore. They were when we arrived. One of our tutors read transcripts of William Wilberforce’s speeches. Michael and I came to understand how wrong holding other people as slaves was. We petitioned my father; for nearly a year, we worked on a financial plan to show him how freeing the slaves could make Tierra Dulce the most prosperous sugar plantation in the Caribbean. We believed it was the strength of our arguments, the brilliance of our plan that swayed him to our side. I have since learned he did not hold with slavery either and had been trying to devise a plan to do exactly what two fourteen-year-olds showed him could be accomplished.”

“And did they—the ones who had been slaves—did they all stay?”

“Yes. All of the original families are still living on the plantation.”

“Families?”

The zeal of Julia’s antislavery passion faded into compassion for her friend, who was trying to understand. “Slaves on a plantation marry. They have children. Many of them are torn apart. When we freed our slaves, several had wives or husbands on neighboring plantations—my father purchased them and set them free to live and work at Tierra Dulce for a fair wage. It created animosity from some of our neighbors; some mocked my father for taking such a radical step. But when our fields produced more cane, when our workers generated more sugar, when our sugar brought in a higher price, it silenced most of them.”

“I never knew...” The graveness in Susan’s expression ill-suited her. Slowly, a smile crept back into her expression. “My aunt was a great admirer of Mr. Wilberforce. She took me to see him many times when I was a young girl, too young to understand the importance of the cause for which he fought so valiantly”

“Beg pardon, Mrs. Captain.” Master O‘Reilley’s breaths came in puffs as he topped the steps to the rampart. “Thought ye’d like t’know, Cap’n Yates just departed
Audacious
. If ye both would like t’follow me, I’ll take ye to meet him.”

Susan fairly skipped down the steps behind the dockmaster, who parted the crowds and navigated a safe path to the head of the quay where the boats from
Audacious
had been putting in for the past hour. Collin had only been gone a month, but tears glittered on Susan’s cheeks. Julia renewed her resolve that she would never put herself in such a position by falling in love.

“Wait here, missus, an’ the cap’n’ll be sure to spot ye right off”

O’Reilley joined the sailors and dockhands scurrying about as the large boat rowed in. The epaulets on Collin’s shoulders identified him before the transport was close enough to clearly distinguish his face.

Susan gripped Julia’s arm with both hands, excited as a child about to receive a treat. “Doesn’t he look wonderful?”

Captain Yates shaded his eyes, his hand under the fore point of his hat, and scanned the yard until his gaze came to rest on Susan. He lifted his hand in a wave. Susan released one hand from Julia’s arm and waved emphatically in return. He turned to speak to one of his sailors—most likely his steward to see about having his dunnage delivered to the house—spoke to the two lieutenants still remaining, and parted company with his men.

Susan’s grip became painful, but Julia didn’t mind. Collin took the stone steps up to their level two at a time and rushed to his wife, pulling her into an embrace with such enthusiasm, his hat was knocked to the ground. Susan’s would have been, too, had it not been for the wide blue ribbon tying it under her chin.

Laughing, Julia stooped to retrieve Collin’s hat—anything to avert her gaze from her friends’ enthusiastic greeting.

Collin accepted his hat and pressed Julia’s hand in greeting. “Miss Witherington. What a pleasure to see you. I hope Susan has not been running you to distraction these last weeks.”

“Not quite to distraction, no, Captain Yates,” Julia teased.

He opened his mouth to say more but then looked over Julia’s shoulder, and an expression of great surprise overtook his features. “Ransome! Bless me.” Collin disentangled himself from his wife and stepped beyond Julia.

She turned in time to see the two captains embrace, pounding each other’s back.

“Yates! Oh, it does me good to see you again.” William Ransome stepped back and held Collin’s shoulders, examining him. “Two years! And as I expected, you have not changed one bit.”

Susan hooked her arm through Julia’s, a contented smile glowing on her countenance. “Are not they the handsomest men of the Royal Navy?”

Julia gazed at the two men, trying to be objective. Quite opposite in appearance—Captain Ransome with his dark hair and light blue eyes, tall and trim; Captain Yates, shorter and broader, with blond hair nearly bleached white by the sun in stark contrast to his dark brown eyes—the two men did justice to their uniforms and would not be out of place in the most fashionable of receiving rooms.

“Aye, they cut fine figures,” she admitted, albeit grudgingly.

Another uniformed figure caught her eye. Her father strode with purpose toward the two captains who, concerned only with their own conversation, had not yet noticed his presence.

Sir Edward came to a stop just beyond the two friends and cleared his throat.

Captains Ransome and Yates both snapped to attention and saluted, grasping the fore point of their hats. “Admiral Witherington, sir.”

“As you were, men,” Sir Edward snapped, returning their salute. “Captain Yates, am I to presume you have nothing of significance to tell me since you have not seen fit to report in? Ship in port for nigh on three hours, and as yet not a peep from her captain.”

Collin’s ruddy cheeks blanched pale. “Admiral Witherington, sir, I had to oversee the dismissal of my crew, the transport of the soldiers to shore—”

Her father’s expression broke into a broad smile; he clasped the younger man’s shoulder. “I’ll expect to see you in my office at four bells in the forenoon watch tomorrow.” He stepped forward. “Mrs. Yates, a great pleasure to see you again.”

Susan returned his bow with a curtsey and a luminescent smile. “Thank you, Sir Edward.” To see her husband singled out by an admiral was an honor of which few captains’ wives could boast.

The admiral’s smile widened. “I do believe lunch is in order. There is an inn just across from the port Admiralty where I believe we shall be able to find a table at this hour. Mrs. Yates, Julia, we would be honored by your attendance.”

“How delightful!” Susan took her husband’s arm and led him toward the carriage. William bowed to Julia and her father and then turned to follow the Yateses.

Julia took her father’s arm.

“I do not know if I have ever met two finer men in my life.” Sir Edward patted Julia’s hand as they strolled up the rampart. “Nor finer officers. I would not be surprised to see both raised to the rank of commodore before year’s end.”

“Shall they see enough action, what with the war ended, to gain promotion?”

Her father grunted—whether a laugh or a growl, she couldn’t be certain—and squeezed her hand. “They have both seen enough action already. I’ve only to find squadrons in need of commanders to be able to sign their orders. Although Ransome may be readier than Yates. In fact, if a certain commodore can be convinced to resign his commission and retire to the country estate he just purchased, I can sign Ransome’s orders before he departs for the Caribbean.”

Julia’s stomach clenched as her father confirmed her greatest fear: he would take William Ransome in hand as his heir apparent for all of Portsmouth to see, as most of the Royal Navy already assumed the man to be. She suppressed the sound of frustration building in the back of her throat. She and she alone was heir to Tierra Dulce. No man, not even the
fine
Captain William Ransome, would take that away from her.

Though Julia had arrived with Susan, to allow the Yateses a few minutes’ privacy, Admiral Witherington suggested Julia ride along with him and William to the inn. William stood back as the admiral handed his daughter up into the open-topped carriage.

Seeing father and daughter together sealed the image of Miss Julia Witherington William had formed after their first meeting four days ago. The years had been kind upon her countenance; indeed, she could pass for a woman in only her second or third Season. However, her reserved demeanor, her serious expression broken only by a few smiles at Susan Yates, proved she had lost the spirit he’d seen in her as a young woman. Guilt prickled at him, wondering if the change could be marked by his cowardice in walking away from her instead of explaining why he could not ask her to marry him.

“Ransome, what think you of Parliament’s refusal to revoke the income tax?”

William did not miss the wink Sir Edward gave his daughter and wondered at the man for introducing a topic so highly unsuitable for mixed company. “I believe, sir, a revocation of the income tax would be a relief to many of the sailors and soldiers returning from the war and being turned out on land on half-pay.”