Crimson Rapture (3 page)

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Christina
sat in Lady Everett's more spacious cabin after the midday meal, reading out
loud at the lady's request. The lady lay reclined on the divan, a cloth dipped
in salt water cooling her face, while Hanna, her maid, methodically waved a
large ostrich feather over the bed. Lady Knolls lounged in a nearby chair,
while her maid, Elsie, knelt in front to work on the lady's nails. All
pretended to listen to Christina's soft voice as she read to them.

The
HMS
Defiant
had remained motionless on a glasslike blanket of windless
sea for another long week and the situation had soon become dangerous. Supplies
dwindled; apparently less than two weeks worth of food and water remained.
Supplies were rationed daily and the captain warned that even if the wind
picked up immediately, it would be at least another two weeks before the ship
reached the shores of Australia.

Tension
soared among the passengers and crew alike. Christina, who had just endured a
meager— though she thought certainly adequate—meal with the other passengers,
was beginning to be embarrassed by their incessant complaining. How could
people fail to grasp the necessity of food and water rationing? How could the
good captain be held culpable for a situation orchestrated by fate, one that
might only be changed by the hand of God?

Christina
read as best she could, thankful for the peacefulness that settled on the room.
The ladies would soon indulge in an afternoon nap; Hanna and Elsie would also
retire, as would most of the crew, and then she would be free to visit Justin.

Lady
Carolyn Knolls leaned back in a miserably uncomfortable chair as Elsie finished
her nails and she stared at the small gathering and thought—not for the first
time—what a pathetic lot they were. Lady Everett, in a ridiculously absurd
state of undress, looked old and haggard, her normally stout, solid frame
sagging wearily in the severe heat. At least the old hag was silent and for
this she was glad. God knew how that high shrill voice could shatter nerves.

She
gasped suddenly and then glared at Elsie for scraping her fingers. Even the
wretched servants were becoming infuriatingly indolent with the unpleasant
conditions on board ship. It was bad enough to have to endure this voyage in
the first place, leaving every small comfort behind, but to have to endure such
insufferable society—Lady Everett of all women, this awkward little Miss Marks,
old boring men like Lord Henry and Captain Forester—well, it was nearly
intolerable. Should anyone—anyone!—ever know exactly how bad it was, she would
surely be ruined socially.

She
sighed, leaned back, and closed her eyes, cursing fortune and fate, this
miserable world, cursing most of all the tiresome journey. How had she ever
gotten to this point. In the beginning the plan had seemed perfectly flawless.
It would have succeeded, too, had not the barest hint of scandal crept through
the gossip monger's mouths. Scandal enough to force her to accept Lady
Everett's invitation to Australia— of all ungodly places—until the odious
speculations on Lord Knolls's untimely death subsided somewhat. Those stupid
idiots! Of course she had married the old lord for his money. Why else would a
beautiful young lady marry anyone? And she had had everything then: wealth, position,
a whole string of adoring lovers, and if only...

It
had started when, to her shock, Lord Knolls insisted on his marriage rites. She
had assumed from the start that he was simply too old, never imagining the old
gizzard could perform, not even in his wildest dreams. She had laughed at him
then, the mere thought of his crooked old hands on her flesh was as absurd as
it was disgusting.

She
shivered slightly, remembering his face torn with pained humiliation—as well it
might—but then his anger, threats and the ultimatum. She had had no choice. No,
no, not really. Once Charles, her current lover, suggested the obvious solution
to the problem, she had not been able to get it out of her mind. She had
tried—oh how she tried—but the thought persisted and persisted and persisted,
until it became an obsession.

After
all the lord had been terribly old...

"Miss
Marks," Lady Everett abruptly interrupted in a tired voice and without
condescending to look up, "do read with a bit more inflection."

The
lady's reprimand visibly shook Christina and it took a moment to recover. The
lady insisted on finding fault with her every movement and manner. Hanna had
sworn her lady's criticisms only meant to instruct, given without malicious
intent and "do forgive the Lady 'er trumps. She don't know 'ow she sounds
and really, she does it to everyone, she does." Christina had her doubts
and, owing to her nature, she could not help but take each criticism to heart.

Hanna
shrugged her plump shoulders, winked, and smiled sweetly. Christina returned
the smile, gained some courage back, and began reading again. But she continued
to steal quick glances up, waiting for the lady to drift to sleep. This with an
impatience she had never before known.

In
the total of seventeen years, Christina had had only one friend and that had
been her father. She had loved him tremendously and she considered him the
wisest of men; worthy of respect, admiration, and her complete devotion. Since
his death, her mind, body, and soul ached with the debilitating pain of his
loss. She would miss him the rest of her life.

She
never expected her heart's void to be filled by Justin Phillips.

Three
times each day, before anyone rose in the morning, during everyone's naps in
the afternoon heat and after everyone retired, she stole a visit to Justin's
small opening to the world. She brought him books daily. He read voraciously;
his appetite was insatiable. Though he had already read most of the books she
brought—his education seemed to have been the finest—he found it worthwhile to
reread them.

After
each book they shared their thoughts and the discussion at night often lasted
well past the midnight hour. She hung on his every word, compelled and
intrigued by his thoughts. His ideas seemed iconoclastic in the extreme. Ideas her
father would disown her for even listening to, yet alone sometimes agreeing
with. She did not often think of what her father would have done to her had he
ever lived to learn of her liaison with Justin.

While
at first their secret talks were limited to the intellectual, they soon
transcended into the personal. She could hardly believe the life he had lived,
a life vastly different from hers and ever so adventurous. She loved listening
to his descriptions of the many different people and lands he had known, and at
times she felt she relived the adventures and experiences to find enchantment,
intrigues, and mysteries in his telling. She especially loved his stories of
the young republic of America, a country he called home.

She
forgave Justin his crimes, and while for the most part she lacked the necessary
presumptive authority to judge another, the matter had been completely settled
once she had asked if he had any regrets in his heart. Justin had laughed and
had assured her that any thinking man has regrets, though as far as his crimes
against the crown, "No, sweetheart, I have no regrets and, given the
opportunity to do it all over again, I'd not hesitate." He scorned
England's imperialistic colonial practices, her callous disregard and stealing
of wealth and riches of the conquered lands, especially England's attempt to
control America's future. "I could have no regrets about stirring up all
the trouble. And," he smiled unseen, "I'm only too glad to make a
fortune doing it."

Each
passing day Justin became more special to her and each passing day her anxiety
increased. It was not the thought of her liaison being discovered—an event that
spelled certain disaster—but rather, she could not bear the thought of Justin
spending the rest of his life behind bars. This concern grew to a point that at
night she lay in her small bunk shedding tears for Justin, praying for God or
even fortune to find a way to free him. And secretly—she could not even tell
him this—she greeted each windless day with thanks and relief, for it meant yet
another stall, another day to share with him.

Lady
Everett finally dropped off and, with a heavy sigh, Lady Knolls rose,
interrupting Christina's reading. Christina watched the lovely woman smooth her
pretty pink silk day dress—so incongruent with the oppressive air of the
ship—and leave the cabin without so much as a nod in her direction. Elsie
followed obediently, silently. Christina set down the book and lifted her
reticule. Her purse was filled with bread and cheese from her midday meal for
Justin. She grasped her ever-present sketchbook and, with a soft rustle of
skirts, followed Hanna from the cabin.

Hanna
whispered in the dark hall, "I half thought she'd never drop off and oh me
aching back." She stretched like a cat and then sighed, "Kin 'ardly
wait to loosin' me stays—don't know 'ow I kin be gettin' thinner what with not
eatin' proper and all, and yet my corset feels like 'tis gettin' tighter."

Another
lady might have found the reference to undergarments vulgar but Christina
thought such boldness remarkable, wonderfully remarkable, that was all.
"The flesh swells to heat," she quietly suggested.

"Aye,
that it does and I'm near swelling to burst. Are you comin' to rest?"

"No."
She glanced nervously down the empty hall. "I think I shall remain about,
reading or sketching."

"I
'aven't a clue as to where you get your stamina but, Christy," Hanna
kissed her cheek sweetly, "I 'ave to thank you. You're a regular angel of
mercy, you are—w'at with all your kindness to me and the misses."

"Oh,"
Christina waved her hand in dismissal, whispered, "it's nothing,
really."

"It
'tis to me." Hanna smiled. "Well, see ya later."

Christina
watched Hanna disappear down the hall to their cabin, and oblivious to the
climbing temperature, she nearly ran to the stairs leading on deck, leading to
a small hole of happiness.

Two
more days passed uneventfully, except for smaller rations, which predictably
led to increasing distress among the passengers. Most of the passengers, the
captain, and the ship's surgeon began to notice Christina's quiet fortitude,
thoughtfulness, and kindness, the way she was always willing to administer to
everyone's needs first. She never complained, and those rare times she spoke
out loud it was to voice optimism and hope. Not the least of the people
considering Christina an angel of mercy was Justin.

The
afternoon sun had just began to sink slowly toward the horizon and Christina,
sitting on an overturned bucket, listened to Justin's heated argument
concerning Hobbes's
Leviathan.
He spoke passionately and she smiled to
herself, thinking how much he sounded like her father on the pulpit.

Justin
was enjoying himself too and at times the very fact amazed him, for never in
all his imaginings had had he thought to find such an unexpected friendship
with a young lady of her restricted background. Her fondness for him was
returned twofold: He felt the affection an older brother might feel for a
younger sister toward her. He was also incredibly grateful for her books, the
extra food she brought, as well as their conversation. She was unquestionably
the kindest and most gentle young lady he had ever known. And then, too, he had
never enjoyed a woman's intellectual facilities as much and, while her naivete
and irrational idealism constantly amused him, he admired her brightness, the
breadth of her education through books.

As
soon as his men rescued him from this hellhole, he would offer Christina
passage to anywhere she wanted to go in the world. He certainly had enough
connections to set her up in any position she might want, as a governess,
shopkeeper, lady of leisure— whatever. If she still wanted to journey to
Australia to stay with her uncle's family, then he'd give her a trust fund with
enough money so that she'd never be in want of anything. He'd also make certain
she could always reach him in the event she needed something.

Lost
to his pontifications, Justin launched into an attack of man's greatest crime
against humanity— that of slavery—and Christina could hardly believe she was
hearing her father's exact sentiments voiced again, though even more astutely.
So taken by what she perceived as a growing, even uncanny similarity between
Justin and her father, she almost failed to stop Justin in time.

Lady
Everett and Lady Knolls strolled toward her, out for an unprecedented stroll
before supper and followed as always by Elsie and Hanna. The ladies' gaily
colored day dresses, the fashionable hats, and colorful parasols looked
bizarrely ostentatious against the lifeless air of the ship and somehow
accentuated rather than hid the two pale and tired faces of the owners.

Christina
quickly tapped her boot against the wall, warning of people approaching. Justin
immediately fell silent. Elsie winked conspiratorially but Christina quickly
lowered her eyes, bracing for the inevitable. Sure enough, as the party reached
speaking distance, Lady Everett cast a disapproving look toward Christina and
wasted no time in voicing her complaint.

"Why,
Miss Marks!" she exclaimed at once. "What in heaven's name are you
doing in this sun without a proper bonnet?"