The Solitary Envoy (39 page)
She cherished these quiet dawn moments, watching for that glorious moment when the sun’s intense glow first appeared on the horizon between sea and sky.
Gradually the daylight strengthened. The ship’s din increased behind her. Still Erica remained as she was, reluctant to give in and let the new day take over her time and attention.
“Erica?” Mrs. Wainwright, the senior pastor’s wife, inserted herself into Erica’s reverie. Mrs. Wainwright was friends with members of the Audley Street community and had been introduced to Erica by mutual friends before the ship sailed. Erica was relieved to have found a chaperone for the voyage on short notice. Despite the fact that Mrs. Wainwright had never set foot on a ship before, she had decided Erica needed even more than a chaperone. “Child, you have missed breakfast entirely.”
“Good day, ma’am. Thank you, but I was not hungry.”
“Stuff and nonsense. Whatever would your good mother think of me if I let you waste away on your journey home?”
“She would offer her heartfelt thanks for being such a friend and companion. As do I.”
Mrs. Wainwright came to stand at the rail beside Erica. “Never in a hundred lifetimes did I ever expect to be making such a journey.”
“Yes, I’m sure it seems daunting. But you are up to the challenges. Of that I have no doubt.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about.” Mrs. Wainwright was a plumpish woman whose black dress was rimmed at neck and wrists with starched white lace. “But my grandchildren need a godly home. And the other young ones of our flock who are immigrating to the New World.”
“Of course you are right.”
“Now, you stay put while I see if I can rustle you up a bowl of porridge.” Mrs. Wainwright patted Erica’s hand.
“It’s really not necessary, ma’am.”
“None of that, child. They’ve cleaned things up in the hold to make room for Sabbath preparations. But I’m sure the cook can find us a last bit of gruel to keep body and soul together.”
“You are so very kind, Mrs. Wainwright.”
“Well, now, I’m usually thought of as more nosy than kind. But let me go see if there’s any—”
“All the porridge is gone, I’m afraid, Mrs. Wainwright. The children have spooned out the last straight from the pot.”
To Erica’s ear, it was the most welcome voice in the world, belonging to the finest man. As she turned she felt an inner shiver go through her just like the halyards in the wind. “Good morning, Gareth.”
“I brought you the last of the tea and persuaded Cook to part with some of the bread meant for our supper.” He gave her a warm smile. “How long have you been up on deck?”
“Hours and hours, I’m sure,” Mrs. Wainwright offered. “Her face has gone quite rosy in this wind.”
The older woman must have realized neither of them was paying her any mind at all. She gave a slight cough to hide her chuckle and said, “I’ll just go make sure the grandchildren are scrubbed up proper for the morning service and… Yes, well, until later, then.”
“You look most delightful this morning, Erica.”
She turned to face him with an answering smile, desiring with all her heart to tell him what their hurried farewells had suppressed. All their preparations for departure had been compressed into just three short days; a ship bound for the Chesapeake had been berthed at London’s Thameside port, and berths had still been available.
How Gareth came to be standing there at all remained something Erica could scarcely comprehend. Her mind went back to that momentous day, back when Mr. Wilberforce had ushered them into his study. With his keen insight, the gentleman had clearly seen how their hearts twisted in bittersweet anguish over a love acknowledged but an ocean that soon would separate them.
Yet still he had greeted them with great good cheer. Then he had ordered them to make this journey together.
“This is without a doubt a divinely fortuitous event,” he had announced to their utter astonishment. “The Americans are fighting their own struggle against the evils of slavery. I see the both of you greatly aiding our American brethren in this valiant quest.”
Wilberforce had pointed out that Gareth had an able staff who had already shown themselves capable of carrying on without his direct supervision. Besides which, a sea voyage would do Gareth wonders, forcing him to rest further and recover his full health. He could travel with his portable writing desk and work through a multitude of ideas. And that was that, said the gentleman who had become spiritual mentor to them both.
William Wilberforce had then joined the two of them on their knees. He committed them and their journey to the Father’s care and commissioned them for this new mission.
“And of course I am not expecting to give you up permanently,” he had said in parting, embracing them each in turn. “The Lord may indeed have more for both of you to accomplish here in England, somewhere down the road.”
Erica was now smiling at Gareth over the rim of her mug. “Thank you very much for this. It warms my heart and my hands.”
He wrapped his hands over hers as they circled the mug.
“How did you rest?” she asked.
“Well enough, for being crammed into a too-small bunk with neighbors who brayed like donkeys all night.” His smile captured the rising sun.
She finished the bread, drank the last of her tea, and set the mug aside. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Aye, I’ve seen you at the railing for hours on end.”
They both turned once more to gaze out over the unending expanse of waves. “Do you miss your men?” she wondered.
“I suppose I do. They’re the closest thing to a family I have.”
“Are you glad you are here?”
He looked down at her, his smile gone and a most serious expression on his face. “Absolutely, Erica. I have no doubt. Not in the slightest.”
“Thank you, dearest. Thank you.” She then looked up at him with a playful smile. “This must mean you are glad I have accepted your proposal of marriage.”
He quickly looked around the deck, then gathered her into his arms. His “Yes” was in his kiss.
As though in divine blessing, the ship’s bell rang out and the pastor’s voice wafted up to them in a voice as clear as the day itself. “Let us all gather and give glory to God!”
Book Two/H
EIRS OF
A
CADIA
THE INNOCENT LIBERTINE
She vowed to be a voice for the oppressed,
but some are seeking her silence
Abbie Aldridge has grown from a precocious girl into an impulsive young woman. The swirl of political and social life at the American Embassy in London has exposed her to everything from the splendor of royal courts to the squalor of working-class hovels. The more she sees, the more outraged she becomes over the chasm between her Christian ideals and the plight of the poor.
Abbie’s passion tends to move her from first impression to instant action, often without reflection. And so it is that a well-intentioned afternoon of Bible study with the actresses at the Drury Lane theatre ends in disaster. Court officials, under pressure from moral reformers, choose that day to stage a raid on the premises. In the sweep of arrests of gamblers and swindlers and harlots and panderers, Abbie finds herself in jail, branded a libertine.
The scandal echoes through diplomatic circles and her family’s Christian community. Of course, her parents trust Abbie’s explanation. But when a dowager countess offers to escort Abbie to America for a period of respite, they readily agree. Perhaps then the worst of the rumors would ease, and Abbie could restore her reputation and her marriageable status.
Abbie embarks on the journey, looking forward to a reunion with Erica and her husband, Gareth. Abbie has long admired their work toward the abolition of slavery and hopes she can be of some help. She is also drawn to stories about spiritual revival on the American frontier. But no one suspects the true motivations of the countess, and the twists and turns of coming months reveal a struggle between the darker powers and God’s providence. The broad expanse of the American landscape—and an encounter with a brilliant young scholar— opens Abbie’s heart to a new understanding of her strengths, her failings, and her divine purpose.
Watch for this next story
on your book retailers’ shelves
next September!
