Echoes of a Promise (4 page)

‘Vicky, I love you deeply and there’s no other woman in the world who could ever fill my heart the way you do, but do you imagine that your parents will give their permission for you to marry a man of the sea? I’ve no grand connections and nothing to recommend me but what you see standing here before you.’

She put her hands on his shoulders and held him at arm’s length, looking at him squarely. ‘Yes, and what I see is exactly why I love you, Peter Latham. You’re a fine, honest man. Anyhow, I don’t need my parents’ permission to marry. I’m over twenty-one and what I want is to spend the rest of my life with you, wherever you go, whatever you do.’ She spoke with an odd mixture of innocence and passion. ‘You’ve told me that wives often sail with their husbands.’

He reached for her and held her close. ‘Vicky – my dearest Vicky. Dear God, what can I say? I love you with every fibre of my being, and swear that I’ll look after you and make you a wealthy woman one day.’

‘Oh, Peter! I don’t care a jot about that. All I want is to be with you. And I want to be
useful
. Yes, you can teach me how to navigate and I’ll plot our course round and round the world so that we never have to set foot on shore again.’ When she laughed he picked her up and hugged her tightly in his arms.

‘Sweetheart, I really
must
write to your parents and ask for your hand. It’s the proper thing to do. I want to tell them how much I’ve come to love you, and swear that I’ll always take care of you.’ He snuggled his face into her neck.

‘
No
! Please don’t write. I mean, not yet. But let’s go inside and tell Aunt Honoria that we’re engaged.’

Once the copper hull was in place, the carpentry below decks was completed and the masts were in position, the day came for the newly painted
Fortitude
to be slipped into the water and moored a few yards down river at the jetty where a gangplank now made boarding simple. The barque rode high until her ballast was loaded, and while that was happening, Peter and his uncle travelled to Portsmouth to sign on a crew of able seamen, as well as a cook and a sailmaker, a carpenter and a ship’s boy.

They were back within a week, followed shortly by two wagonloads of men with sea chests and canvas bags – eighteen men with weathered
faces, tattooed arms, ear-rings, scars, and most wearing knives and spikes on their belts. They tugged their forelocks to Victoria as they climbed aboard and carried their belongings below.

Within minutes they were back on deck and, under Peter’s direction, the complicated business of rigging the three masts began. Eventually, the twenty-six new sails had been hoisted, with halyards running to the belaying pins, while the captain watched from the deck, bellowed orders about braces, buntlines and clewlines. Victoria held her breath each time Peter scrambled up a mast and worked his way along a high spar to some seaman who was securing ropes.

Supplies were brought on board, the water barrels were filled and the carpenter built chicken coops to stand beside the goat pen. While she watched the ship quickly coming to life, her heart grew heavier: tomorrow, the mooring ropes would be cast off, the wind would fill these sails and the
Fortitude
would disappear out there into the Channel.

Through their adjoining wall that night, Lady Honoria listened to Victoria pacing her bedroom floor and, long before the sun had risen, she heard a light tap on her own door.

It was Victoria, fully dressed and carrying a portmanteau. ‘Aunt, I’ve decided to take that leap over the cliff. I’m going to beg Peter and his uncle to let me sail with them while they put the ship through her trials.’ She quickly kissed the old lady’s cheek. ‘I’ll be gone for no more than a few days – perhaps a week.’

Lady Honoria rarely found herself speechless, but this was one of those occasions.

On the other hand, Captain Latham had a great deal to say when he confronted Victoria in the dawn light, and every word conveyed his outrage at her uninvited arrival aboard his ship, as well as his fury at Peter’s giddy happiness at her surprise.

‘Please let me apologize, Captain, because I know that this is not at
all the thing to do.’ She refused let herself buckle under his tongue lashing. ‘But if you give me permission to sail with you for these few days, I promise to be in nobody’s way.’

They stood facing each other silently, before the lines around the captain’s mouth slowly softened. ‘Very well, Miss Shelford, I will give you permission to remain on board, on condition that my first officer is not distracted from his duties.’

‘Captain, I promise that you won’t even know that I’m here.’ Without another word she bolted into Peter’s cabin and threw herself gleefully onto his narrow bunk. From above her head, she heard orders for the moorings to be cast off and the sails unfurled, followed by sounds of running feet along the deck, and the soft creaks and groans of timbers as the vessel got under way.

She knelt with her face pressed against the porthole, nervous and excited as she saw the shoreline – and her old life – slipping away. Once out into the Channel, the ship began to roll gently and, when she lay her head on Peter’s pillow, she dreamed of the day when she’d be his wife and part of his life at sea, on this ship or any other. Ahappiness greater than she’d ever known squeezed her heart.

The ship’s boy brought a plate of bread and ham to her later in the morning, along with a basin. ‘Mr Latham sends his compliments, ma’am, and I’m to tell you that we’re makin’ good headway but when we start headin’ out of the Channel, there’s likely to be some rough weather. Storm blowin’ up on the port bow.’

With hunger gnawing at her insides, she nibbled at the food on the plate and hoped that her stomach would behave. The sky outside was growing darker and before long, she could detect an increasing pitch in the sound of the wind singing in the high rigging. The bell rang for all hands to come on deck and she soon detected a new shudder in the ship’s roll as it caught a cross-swell on the building seas that were slamming against the hull. The pumps below began to thump continuously.

Hours later, Peter knocked on the door and stood grinning at her with his wet hair plastered against his head and water dripping from his oilskins. ‘Are you all right, sweetheart?’ he asked, looking pointedly at the empty basin.

‘Can’t you see that I was made for this?’ She laughed and braced herself against the bulkhead as the wind howled and the ship pitched violently. ‘What about you and the crew up there?’

‘Fine. The men know what’s expected of them, and the ship’s handling splendidly.’ He leaned forward and she kissed him quickly. ‘I’m too wet to come in, but as soon as this weather settles I’ll show you just how proud I am of you.’

The wild storm had blown itself out by sunrise the next morning, though a heavy sea still swept over the bow. Victoria woke to the sound of four bells signalling that routine had returned to shipboard life and the first watch was on its way below to catch four hours’ sleep. Four hours on, four hours off around the clock – for weeks on end for everyone, except the captain and first officer who were never truly off duty.

She was still in her nightdress when Peter at last arrived in the cabin, hollow-eyed with fatigue, but grinning. ‘Well, we wanted the old ship to show us what she was capable of doing in all weathers, and she came through last night’s blow like a true lady.’ He sagged against the bulkhead and eyed her longingly. She swung her feet onto the pitching floor and staggered to his side.

‘And standing here before you, sir, is another lady who is anxious for your approval – just as soon as we get you out of these wet clothes.’ She reached up and, with fumbling fingers, began to unbutton his jacket and shirt, while the heaving ocean threw her off balance and tossed her against him again and again.

They laughed and kissed as she towelled him dry. He tasted of salt and sea and man, and she wondered if any woman before had ever sampled such potent flavours all at once. She was so happy, she thought
that her heart might stop, but it didn’t seem to matter. Nothing mattered in this private and wonderful world but the taste of his mouth and the touch of his skin.

When he whipped the nightdress over her head, they tumbled into his narrow bunk and lay tightly jammed together while their kisses deepened and passion soared. Finding a mutually comfortable position in the confined space created initial difficulties, but their eager bodies soon guided them to the solution.

‘Now show me, Peter. Show me how to make love.’ When she raised his hand to her lips and innocently ran her tongue across their tips, his aching fatigue became an avalanche of desire.

‘Sweetheart, I think you’ll find that old Mother Nature is a splendid teacher.’

A quiver rippled through her and she pressed herself even closer against him as he kissed her face and the curve of her neck. Her heart thundered when he shifted his weight and began languidly and knowing to lead her along paths of hot, dark, irresistible discovery until her body sang the glorious womansong that nature teaches her daughters. She rose to him and powerful sensations swamped her, lapping each secret corner of her body, sweeping her into worlds of rapture.

Replete, she lay quietly in his arms, knowing that she’d been treasured and cherished, and that nothing in her world would ever be the same again. ‘Oh, Peter, my Peter. It was – oh, sublime!’

‘Heaven has made us for each other, sweetheart, and when I come back with a shipload of treasures from the East’ – weariness was slurring his words – ‘your parents will give us their blessing and then, when I watch you walking towards me down the aisle—’

‘Shhhh.’ She stroked his neck, his shoulder. ‘It’s time to sleep now, my love. Sleep.’

He was a truly beautiful man through and through, a good man, a noble man, and she loved him utterly. But she knew that no matter how
many treasure ships he brought back from the East, a mariner named Peter Latham, the son of a blacksmith, would never be accepted by her parents. They’d never give their blessing to a marriage, so there was little point in asking for it. While he lay sleeping with his head on her shoulder, she began to make plans.

When at last she was able to ease herself out of his bunk, she dressed quietly, threw a shawl around her shoulders and stepped out onto the heaving deck. There, buffeted by the salt-laden wind, she grasped a halyard to steady herself and gazed at the waves and spray breaking over the pitching bowsprit. There was nothing in view but the daunting expanse of angry grey water stretching in all directions.

It was very easy to imagine that they had sailed a thousand miles from the shores of England. There was nothing out here but the
Fortitude
. They were utterly alone in this watery world.

She stepped back into the shelter of the officers’ quarters and, making no sound to wake the sleeping captain and his first officer as she slipped past their doors, she went into the great cabin in the stern. Here on the bookshelves that she’d arranged, she found the
leather-bound
Book of Common Prayer, and opened it at the page headed:
The Form of Solemnization of Matrimony.

Clearly, she and Peter must be married before he sailed off to the other side of the world. It would be a simple matter to arrange: Captain Latham would perform the wedding service at sea with eighteen sailors standing there on deck to witness it.

Such a marriage would be perfectly legal. Who could deny it?

It took a few moments for Captain Latham to recover from his astonishment when he heard Victoria’s request. Then he threw back his head and roared with laughter. ‘Absolutely not! No, no, no!’

Victoria lifted her chin and looked at him squarely. ‘Oh, yes, indeed I think you must, Captain! Surely you’re aware that my reputation has been utterly lost aboard your ship, so now I demand that your nephew does what is right and honourable and marries me immediately.’ She frowned and pursed her lips to prevent any smile from ruining her performance. ‘I’m over twenty-one, you know, so I have no need to ask my parents for permission.’

The captain clicked his tongue, took the prayer book she was holding open, and scanned the pages. ‘Well …’ He stroked his chin, frowning. ‘I’ve never been asked to do anything like this before, but – er, why not?’ He let out a hoot of laughter. ‘Yes, very well, of course I’ll oblige you, m’dear. Would the start of the dog watch at four o’clock tomorrow be suitable?’

The next afternoon Peter and Victoria stood on the windy poop deck and exchanged their wedding vows in a ceremony that was witnessed by eighteen seamen who had all washed, shaved and dressed in clean clothes for the occasion. She felt deeply touched by that, and shook each man’s hand warmly as he came up to put his signature – or his
mark – on the marriage certificate that the captain had drawn up.

She felt giddy with happiness. When her parents were presented with this document, they could have no doubt that she and Peter Latham were indeed legally married. That was what she told herself as she played with the plain gold wedding band that he’d placed on her finger during the ceremony. It was much too large and had a tendency to slide off but, once she was ashore, any jeweller would be able to adjust it to fit.

Peter had been amusingly evasive about how he’d been able to produce a gold ring at the appropriate moment in the ceremony. She suspected that he must have bought it last night from one of the sailors who’d probably won it at a gaming table. Or had stolen it. But that was of no concern because joy filled her and nothing mattered now but the few remaining days and nights to be shared on board with her new husband.

Dressed in oilskins, she walked the deck beside him and quickly learned to adjust her stride to the long, easy pitch and roll of the ship. He taught her how to take readings from the sun and to chart their position on the maps in the navigation room below; when they studied the night sky he pointed out the constellations that had guided generations of mariners towards the southern hemisphere.

Every day brought her new knowledge, each night fresh, sweet discovery. All the good things piled up, so that every moment, every hour, every day she spent beside Peter was better than the moment and the hour and the day before.

She felt proud to stand beside him at the helm, watching the bow slicing its way through the dark waves and listening to the loud moaning hum of the wind in the rigging, the wind that was driving them steadily back towards the coast of England.

‘I don’t want to leave you,’ she whispered, as they lay together on her last night aboard. ‘Oh, what I’d give to stay here and simply sail on and on with you. But I know I can’t do that. It would be too cruel to my
family to go off to the other side of the world without telling them.’

He nuzzled her neck. ‘Yes, I know, Mrs Latham, but when I come back after this, you and I will spend the rest of our lives together on board. And before you spend one more night on board, I promise to have the carpenter widen this bunk.’

When the
Fortitude
tied up at Strickland’s jetty to take on board the chickens and a milking goat, and gear for the bosun’s locker, along with more provisions for the long voyage ahead, Peter and Victoria hurried back to Lady Honoria’s house. They arrived just in time to see the village doctor leaving.

‘Ah, good afternoon, Miss Shelford.’ He lifted his hat to her. ‘Her ladyship will be glad to see you. She suffered a slight seizure a few days ago and I’m afraid it has left her with a degree of weakness in her right side. But she is quite comfortable. I’ll call again tomorrow.’

Victoria ran into the house and found her aunt propped up in bed with flowers massed on her dressing table and window sills. Her eyes opened at the sound of Victoria’s voice and she gave a twisted smile. ‘Tell me….’

Victoria sat on the bed and held out her left hand. ‘Look at this, Aunt. Peter and I took that step over the cliff, but instead of falling, we were carried upwards – and we soared like eagles with a great wind under our wings. Oh, I have so much to tell you: Captain Henry married us at sea, and when the
Fortitude
comes back, Peter and I will have another wedding – in a church with the whole family attending.’

The old lady chuckled. ‘My blessings on you both, my dears, and may you enjoy many happy years together.’ Her words were slurred, but her delight was clear.

‘Thank you for that, Lady Honoria.’ Peter lifted her hand to his lips. ‘I feel relieved to know that at least one member of Victoria’s family gives her blessing to our marriage.’

With the
Fortitude
ready to sail, his visit to Lady Honoria was necessarily brief. ‘You have my promise that I’ll be back as swiftly as
I can, ma’am, with silks and treasures from the Orient for my two favourite ladies.’

He kissed her lightly on the forehead and the old lady smiled.

And the kiss that he and Victoria exchanged at the gate was almost as brief.

‘I love you beyond everything, Peter. Write to me often, and I’ll keep myself busy to make sure that the next two years pass quickly. I’ll be waiting.’ Her voice was artificially bright.

He reached into his pocket and handed her an envelope. ‘This is for your parents, sweetheart. I’d give anything to be with you when you tell them about us, but in this I’ve tried to explain who I am, and how deeply I love you. And that I intend to be a rich man one day.’

They clung together again for a few moments before he straightened. She needed to hold the gatepost tightly and keep her chin high as he walked out into the lane. They blew a kiss to each other before he turned the corner and disappeared from view.

She’d taken a few unsteady steps back towards the house before her sobs began – and she realized that the wedding ring had slipped off her finger again. In panic she dropped to her knees and eventually discovered it lying in long grass. Once back in the house, she found a length of satin ribbon and hung the gold band safely around her neck. Next to her heart.

The following morning a letter arrived from her mother with a reminder that Emily’s wedding was less than a month away. ‘The other bridesmaids have all had final fittings for their gowns, so you must come home immediately.’ Lady Mary added a postscript hoping that Victoria had not over-indulged herself on cream cake and gained weight during her time in Devon.

She wrote back to say that it was impossible for her to leave Devon yet as it was clear to everyone that Lady Honoria Woolcott’s life was gently slipping away. Each day she slept for longer and longer periods, and in her waking moments she sometimes smiled and whispered to
people whom only she could see standing in the room.

‘I need you here with me, Mama. Please come now because Aunt Honoria is sinking and soon it will be too late.’

It was her father who replied, and he was uncharacteristically curt. ‘Certain worrying family matters here are giving your mother more than enough to deal with at the moment. I’m sorry, my dear, but you must attend to whatever has to be done for Aunt Honoria, and return to London as speedily as you can.’

Victoria had never felt so utterly alone. She sent an express to Caroline and Hedley. ‘My dears, I beg you to come down to Devon. I’m sure that our aunt is thinking of you, Caroline, because she often calls me by your name.’

Her sister’s reply didn’t arrive until the morning that Honoria died. With Victoria holding her hand, the old lady smiled, gave a little sigh and slipped peacefully from the world.

Victoria had no opportunity to open Caroline’s letter until she’d attempted to comfort the distraught servants, spoken with the doctor, and arranged the details of a funeral service with the vicar. The news of Lady Honoria Woolcott’s death flew through the district, and a stream of tearful neighbours and friends came to offer their condolences and to reminisce. Everyone had fond stories to tell about Lady Honoria.

It was well into the afternoon before Victoria found the opportunity to read Caroline’s letter.

Caroline’s letter ended with a message that the bridesmaids’ dresses were
quite divine
. And she also wondered if Victoria had heard the news that a general election had been called, which meant that their father was required to leave London immediately after the wedding and pay one of his rare visits to his constituency to start campaigning.

Victoria threw the letter to the floor and blinked back the tears of frustration. Then she washed her face and met her aunt’s fussy little solicitor who had arrived to read the will.

Lady Honoria Woolcott had owned nothing of great value, but she had bequeathed little pieces of porcelain and jewellery as mementos to the wives and daughters of various neighbours and local tradesmen, as well as necklaces to the three Shelford sisters. Would Miss Shelford be able to identify all these items and see that they reached the people named as beneficiaries? the man pleaded.

When he drove away, Victoria began to cry – angry tears now as she paced up and down the drawing room. She was angry that other matters were keeping her family from being here with her during this unhappy, lonely time. Angry that—

Her thoughts were suddenly diverted by the sound of a coach pulling up at the gate and, when she peered through the curtains, she was astounded to see Martin Clifford heaving himself down the step.

‘I’ll get the door, Mrs Potts,’ she called, and ran through the house. ‘This is the gentleman who is to marry Emily in – oh, very soon now.’ She
flung open the door and threw her arms around Martin’s portly frame.

‘Martin! I can’t tell you how delighted I am to see you. Thank you, thank you for coming.’

‘It’s little enough at a time like this, my dear sister-to-be,’ he said, kissing her cheek. ‘Emily – my sweetest angel – wrote to me of her concerns about you having been left all alone here with Lady Honoria in failing health, so I came immediately.’

Emily! Little Emily had been the only one in the family to understand how desperately she was in need of their help. Victoria hugged Martin tighter, then ushered him into the drawing room while she gave him the details of Lady Honoria’s last weeks, as well as listing all the matters that the attorney had asked her to deal with before she’d be able to leave for London.

‘And on top of that, Martin, I’m alarmed about what Caroline has told me about some divorce scandal she’s become involved in. Do you know about it? Is it really as bad as it sounds?’

He nodded and cleared his throat. ‘It’s a nasty business, make no mistake, but your sister and her husband have accepted my suggestion that they should leave for an extended holiday in America before the matter gets to court. Passage has been booked for them on a ship due to leave Tilbury after the wedding.’

She regarded him with a frown. ‘But everyone knows that Caroline and Hedley have no money and—’ Her jaw sagged. ‘Oh, Martin, I doubt that Papa would ever agree to finance this escape. Surely you’re not the one who is paying for it?’

‘The whole business regarding Caroline is upsetting my little angel, and I will not have it!’ He spoke tartly. ‘Caroline and Hedley will leave quietly for Tilbury straight after the wedding and board this ship to New York. I have a friend there who is to take them across the country to visit his estate – he refers to it as a
ranch
– in some place called Wyoming. Hopefully they’ll stay on that side of the Atlantic for a year or two until the dust settles here.’

Victoria regarded him with awe. A more unlikely-looking white knight would be hard to imagine, but surely there was none whose heart was filled with more generosity.

‘Martin, my dear brother-to-be, you must be the kindest man on earth to do so much for our family.’ She fingered the gold wedding ring hanging under her blouse and longed to share the news of her marriage with him. But she hesitated. It didn’t seem to be the right thing to do before she’d told her parents.

The days following Lady Honoria’s funeral passed in a blur of activity, with Martin helping Victoria to disperse her aunt’s bequests around the countryside. And he endorsed her decision that the £485 she’d found hidden in a dressing-table drawer should be given to Mr and Mrs Potts. By the time the last tearful farewells had been said to Honoria’s friends and neighbours and they were on their way back to London, Emily’s wedding was only two days away.

‘Well, here you are at last!’ Lady Mary gave Victoria’s cheek a fleeting kiss. ‘Tell me later about Aunt Honoria. I need to see you in your bridesmaid’s gown immediately. Goodness, my girl, you seem to have
lost
weight in Devon.’