Ransome's Honor (22 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

A
fter a night spent pacing her room, Julia still could not fathom what happened. She was to be married to William Ransome, the only man she had ever loved.

But she could not love William. To do so would ruin everything. Her future consisted of becoming mistress of Tierra Dulce and living out the remainder of her years there, in peace. A year from now, he would walk away, and she needed to let him go with no regrets.

She collapsed into her desk chair, resting her head on her folded arms. But she wanted to be married to him. She wanted a child, someone she could give the love her mother had given her. A protégé to teach the running of the plantation. An heir to gain her father’s attention and affection. A connection to William for when he went out to sea, and a guarantee he’d come back.

She wanted a real marriage. And she wanted it with William Ransome. But she would never tell him. She would never allow herself to become so vulnerable.

No. In twelve months, she would apply for an annulment and let William walk out of her life again and take her inheritance with him. Raising her head, she dipped the pen in ink and began a letter to her father to explain her actions.

A light tap sounded on the door.

“Yes?” She wiped her quill on the blotter.

Lady Pembroke entered. “Julia? I hoped we might talk.”

Julia corked the ink bottle and motioned her aunt toward the chaise. “Please come in.”

Augusta sat on the edge of the seat, hands clasped on her knees. “I wanted to apologize for my son’s reprehensible behavior last night.”

The contriteness in Augusta’s tone didn’t ring with honesty. Julia straightened the stack of stationery. “He did say quite a lot last night with the apparent intent of offending Captain Ransome. If I recall, you do not think much of my fiancé yourself.”

The skin around Augusta’s eyes tightened, but she maintained her expression of supplication. “When I said—I did not know then that you held him in high regard or that you were receiving his suit.”

Guilt nibbled at Julia’s ire. It had not been long ago that she held William in contempt. “I feel it should not matter if I esteemed him, but I am willing to overlook your insults. I am also willing to carry your apology to Captain Ransome. But I must ask you to desist from interfering in my affairs any further.”

Tears welled in Augusta’s eyes. “I only meant to act in your best interest. You are my niece-daughter of my husband’s sister.”

Could she possibly be telling the truth? Julia wanted to believe her, but experience told her not to give Augusta her full trust. “My father wished me to have a companion, so I will not ask you to leave. However, as I am now engaged, I will be responsible for my own schedule and for choosing with whom I am to spend my time.”

“Yes, of course.”

“And because I will be departing for Jamaica before my father’s return, at that time, you will need to make other arrangements for your accommodation.”

“I understand. To tell you the truth, I have been longing to see Marchwood again.” Augusta dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief “Perhaps, before you leave, you could make time to travel to your mother’s home.”

“I have seen it before. When I was a child, we lived there with my grandfather until my father took us to Jamaica, and we visited again last time I was in England.” Julia tried to conjure an image of the Pembroke ancestral home, but only Tierra Dulce came to mind. “Maybe I should see it before I go. I know my mother would have wanted to visit if...” Julia swallowed a sudden welling of grief.
If she
had lived to see
her
beloved England
again.

Augusta sniffed and smiled broadly. “Then we shall plan for it. In fact, we can time my removal with your visit. Elton can drive us and then bring you back.”

“We shall see.” The clock chimed the half hour. Julia stood. “If you will excuse me, Aunt, I must dress for an outing. I will be gone the rest of the day—and evening. I will not be home for dinner.”

“Oh—well, I shall be dining out this evening, so that is no inconvenience.” Augusta paused in the doorway. “Please do not think too ill of your poor cousin. He thought he was protecting you. That was the only reason for his vehemence yestereve.”

Julia forced a smile. “Good day, Aunt.” She shut the door as soon as her aunt stepped into the hall. She rubbed her eyes and then pulled the bell cord for Nancy. She prayed her aunt’s apology was sincere, but she feared the woman only did it to try to ingratiate herself

She vowed she would not let herself be vulnerable to her aunt’s schemes and stratagems again. And Julia never broke her vows.

Although Mrs. Ransome and Susan Yates conversed easily with Julia Witherington, Charlotte found herself mute, shy of this woman who had captured her brother’s regard.

Or had she?

Something was going on, as she could tell from the considerable number of silent glances between Mama and William, William and Collin, and Collin and Susan over breakfast this morning whenever Miss Witherington’s name entered the conversation. Did William love this woman, or was there another explanation for their sudden and unexpected engagement? Apparently everyone knew the truth. Everyone but Charlotte.

“It is so good to see you again.” Susan hooked her arm through Julia’s as the Yateses’ carriage rolled away from the Witheringtons’ massive house.

“It is good to once again be free to do as I choose.” Miss Witherington gave Susan a look very much like the ones that had been passed around the breakfast table.

Being purposely left out of the secret annoyed Charlotte. She reconciled herself to being content with her own private affairs.

“Your gown last evening was exquisite.” Susan squeezed her friend’s hand once more and then let go of her.

The gown Miss Witherington wore last night—ivory and gold satin with a midnight-blue velvet overtunic sparkling with gold embroidery—had seemed a bit ostentatious on first glance, but the longer Charlotte had watched Miss Witherington, the more she’d seemed like an ancient queen, with all the other women in their safe, fashionable white as nothing more than ladies-in-waiting. Even now, dressed in a deep rose muslin, Julia stood out because of her choice not to wear white or another pale color.

“Thank you, Susan. The dressmaker my aunt brought in from London upon our arrival lived in Rome for the last five years. She brought some beautiful pieces of art that showed the colors worn by the ancient Romans. Then she showed us the fabrics she had brought back with her.” Miss Witherington quirked the side of her mouth at Susan in a sardonic expression before turning back to Charlotte and Mama. “I know nothing of fashion. In Jamaica, I grew accustomed to dressing in bright colors, so I could not bear the idea of wearing naught but white for months on end.”

At the mention of Jamaica, Charlotte’s heart leapt. “What is it like—Jamaica ?”

Miss Witherington’s green eyes twinkled. “It is heaven on earth. Warm waters, sparkling sandy beaches, palm trees—air filled with hundreds of spices.” She broke off, her gaze unfocused and distant.

“But what about hurricanes, pirates, yellow fever...?” The letters she kept hidden in the drawer of the wardrobe painted a much grimmer picture of life in the West Indies.

Miss Witherington met Charlotte’s gaze with humor playing about her mouth. “Oh, there are occasional storms, and we do lose some of our cargo to pirates, but those problems cannot overshadow the joy of living there.” She smiled, and Charlotte wanted to believe this version of life in Jamaica over the more dire images in the letters.

“You were quite young when you moved there, were you not?” Mama adjusted her parasol to better block the sun.

“Yes, ma’am—not yet to my eleventh birthday”

“And you have a brother, if I recall correctly.” Mama cocked her head as she always did when facts escaped her.

“I had a brother—a twin brother—but he was lost at sea when we were fifteen.”

The fear of losing William, Philip, or James resonated again in Charlotte’s heart.

“He was in the navy?” Mama’s pale cheeks hinted she, too, feared one of her sons meeting the same fate.

“Yes, ma’am. A midshipman aboard a sloop on the Caribbean station.”

Miss Witherington’s stoicism impressed Charlotte, whose own throat tightened with emotion. “Was it in battle, then?”

“Charlotte! It is not polite to pry into such matters.” Mama never raised her voice above a whisper, but Charlotte cringed as if yelled at.

“I do apologize, Miss Witherington, I meant no disrespect.”

“I am not offended. And please, you must call me Julia, as we are to be sisters.”

Happiness—nay, joy—filled Charlotte until she thought she might not be able to breathe.
Sisters.

“Michael’s ship was attacked by pirates. All of the crew who were not killed in the battle were ransomed. We never received a ransom request, so we knew he had died trying to defend his ship and mates.”

The way Julia told it, her brother could not have met a more glorious end. But to have been killed by pirates...a delicious thrill spilled down Charlotte’s spine at the word. What a wild and untamed place the Caribbean was.

She could not wait to experience it for herself

Chapter Twenty-Two

J
ulia stepped to the door of the shop, hoping to catch a breath of cooler air, while Susan told the merchant where the fabric should be delivered. Julia would have settled for a blue silk in the first shop, but Susan would not let her, as it was merely “good enough.” Susan had taken them to three more warehouses, each being in succession her “favorite of all.”

Susan’s ability to negotiate with the merchants for the best price and delivery date impressed Julia. The woman would do well in the sugar market in Kingston, trying to get the highest price from the buyers, an annual task Julia dreaded.

“Just one more stop, ladies, and then we can return home, where tea will be ready for us.”

In and out of the shops along High Street, Susan introduced Julia and the Ransome ladies to other officers’ wives, ranging from middle-aged and more wealthy than Julia could imagine to young women barely into their twenties trying to live on half-pay while their husbands vied for assignment in the reduced fleet of ships. Julia sympathized with the unfortunate girls and their lot, trying to stretch ten guineas into a hundred to make a home for their husbands and, in most cases, children.

“Isn’t there anything that can be done to help them?” Mrs. Ransome asked as Susan opened the door of a millinery shop. “Cannot all the officers wives’ take up a collection to help out the poorest among them? To make sure their children are not going hungry?”

Susan glanced over her shoulder at the young woman they’d just exchanged pleasantries with. “Julia and I assist with the Naval Family Aid Society. ’Tis hard, now, with the war over and so many officers on half-pay and commanders disrated back down to lieutenant rank or worse. We are blessed that William and Collin have the admiral’s patronage to further their careers.”

“Yes, but they have had success throughout their years at sea, as have my other two sons. Even had they been turned out, they would still be able to live well.” Mrs. Ransome fingered the stiff lace on the brim of a straw bonnet.

“Collin as well. Do you know, he told me that while he is on Caribbean station, he plans to investigate the possibility of buying land there? Can you imagine us owning land in the West Indies?”

“Only if you learn that those of us who live there do not refer to it as the ‘West Indies.’ Tell Collin that I shall be delighted to assist him in seeking out the best property. And I’ll make certain it is within easy travel of Tierra Dulce.”

Susan grinned. “Yes, that was my thought as well.” Without warning, her face paled and she staggered.

Julia grabbed Susan’s shoulders before she fell into a hat rack. “Are you unwell?”

After a few deep, gulping breaths, Susan managed to right herself “Just the heat, I fear. If it gets hotter than this in your Jamaica, I do not know how you survive it.”

“You’ll learn to love it.” Julia continued to hold Susan’s shoulders until certain she could stand under her own power.

“I am certain I will.”

Julia picked up a wide-brimmed bonnet piled high with silk flowers and set it on her head. “How do I look?”

Susan eyed her, mouth pursed. “You are my dearest friend in the world, Julia. But you are correct—you have no sense of fashion.”

With a laugh, Julia took off the hat. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Mrs. Ransome and Charlotte on the other side of the store, examining the wide assortment of ribbons.

“You have shown more restraint this morning than I thought possible, Susan. I know you are bursting to hear what transpired last night.”

The remaining vestiges of malaise in Susan’s expression vanished, and she clasped Julia’s forearm. “You could not speak in front of Mrs. Ransome or Charlotte, so I knew better than to plague you with questions.”

In a low whisper, although she and Susan were quite alone, Julia recounted everything she could remember of her stroll through the garden with William—and the events thereafter. Several times, Susan covered her mouth to stifle a gasp.

“No wonder you were so quiet and withdrawn after you and William returned from the garden. If she were not your aunt, what words I would have to say about Lady Pembroke.”

Julia absently picked up another hat to try on. “If she were not my aunt, I would not be in this predicament.” She continued on to tell Susan about her exchange with Augusta this morning.

“Has she mentioned anything about the chest’s being gone?”

“No. She has either not risked returning to look for it, or she knows I removed it because I suspected her.” Julia turned to look in a mirror and grimaced at the sallow tone the orange bonnet gave her skin.

“What makes you believe she will not do whatever she can to interfere with your engagement to William? To find a way to force you into marrying Sir Drake?” Susan whispered.

“I hope I am too intelligent for that. I know she is not being completely honest with me, so I will have a hard time believing anything she tells me. But if you do not see or hear from me two days together, you might want to pay a call.” Julia removed a lacy green chapeau and set the bonnet Susan handed her on her head. “I have written to my father and will be very much surprised if he does not write to her by express, forbidding her interference.”

Susan cleared her throat. “Oh, Mrs. Ransome, what a lovely turban.”

Julia turned to see the two Ransome women approaching.

William’s mother held up the blue and burgundy silk-wrapped headpiece. “Do you think so? Charlotte assures me it is the height of fashion and that it will compliment the gown I wore last evening.”

“Charlotte is blessed with an eye for fashion,” Susan assured the older woman. “Now, Mrs. Ransome, I could use your influence with your daughter-to-be.”

Guilt dried Julia’s mouth at Mrs. Ransome’s beatific gaze.

“Only if it is something that will make dear Julia happy.”

“You must help me convince
dear
Julia—now she is to be an old married woman like us—that she must purchase at least a gross of mobcaps.” Susan thrust a stack of the frilly, white-muslin head coverings toward Julia.

Julia gaped at the symbols of both spinster- and matronhood and then laughed. “I will start wearing one of those when you do, Susan Yates, and not a day before.”

Although she did not purchase one of the mobcaps, Julia did buy the small bonnet with a narrow straw brim and green-satin crown, which Susan said made her eyes positively glow. Julia’s and Mrs. Ransome’s bandboxes were added to the pile of packages on the floor of the barouche, leaving little room for their feet. Susan handed several items up into the seat beside the driver.

“Tea will be ready when we get home, and then we can take a rest.” Susan fanned her flushed face vigorously. “And mayhap freshen ourselves before dinner.”

Julia stifled a groan, her body aching, as she leaned against the plush seat. What she needed was a nice long swim in the cove, the warm Caribbean water rolling over her, rocking her like a baby in a cradle.

The rhythm of the carriage lulled her into a stupor and must have done the same to the others, as each remained silent the entire trip to the Yateses’ home.

Julia could practically hear her bones creak when she climbed out and staggered through the front gate. She pulled up in surprise when a tall, burly man with a tangle of dark hair opened the door.

He lifted his hand toward his head, stopped, and then gave a jerky bow, as if unfamiliar with the action. “G‘day, ma’am.” He stood, hesitated again, then cleared his throat. “Ah, can-may I be of assistance wi’ your parcels?”

“There are quite a few packages in the carriage, Mr.... ?” She raised her brows in question.

He knuckled his forehead. “Dawling, ma’am. Steward—er, valet, that is, to Captain Ransome.”

Julia’s stomach twisted. One of William’s crew right here in Susan’s home? His reaction to her would be a good indication of how the others might respond.

“Oh, wonderful. You’ve met Dawling.” Susan stopped beside Julia on the stoop. “Dawling, this is Miss Witherington—Captain Ransome’s fiancée.”

The sailor’s pock-scarred face broke into an enormous smile. “Miss Witherington, ma‘am—miss.” He knuckled his forehead again, while also executing another twitchy bow. “I’m right chuffed to meet you, ma’am—miss. If there be anything you need whilst you’re here, you just call for me. Ol’ Archie Dawling’s your man.”

Susan’s tinkling laugh danced across the foyer. Inside the large entry hall, a young maid took their gloves and spencers.

“Have Agatha serve tea in the garden, please, Dawling.” Susan called over her shoulder. “It’s far too hot to stay indoors. Come, Mrs. Ransome, Julia, Charlotte.”

“Poor fellow.” Mrs. Ransome said with a slight frown. “William is so good to have kept him on—first as his steward, now as his valet. But he does seem to be learning quickly for someone who never apprenticed on a household staff.” She turned to Julia. “He might make a decent servant yet. I am certain you will see to his continued training.”

Julia swallowed hard. She did not like thinking of how things might be once she boarded William’s ship. “I will do my best, ma’am.”

Twenty minutes later, settled into a thick-cushioned rattan chair under the shade of an arbor in the back garden, Julia struggled to keep her eyes open. Mrs. Ransome, beneath the wide brim of her straw bonnet, seemed to have dozed off; Miss Ransome returned inside, claiming the need to write a letter. Susan fanned herself vigorously in spite of the breeze. Rather than being flushed with heat, Susan’s cheeks looked too pale, her lips drawn in a tight line.

Julia frowned and leaned forward, grasping the arm of Susan’s chair. “Are you quite all right?”

Susan patted her hand. “Just a bit peaky. Nothing a bit of a rest-up won’t remedy. I still do not understand how you can bear heat worse than this. You must occasionally be scandalous and leave off wearing a spencer when going out in public.”

“Jamaica is much warmer than this, but the ocean breeze makes it bearable. Most of the time, when not going in public, I’ve adopted the local way of dressing.” Julia went on to describe the lightweight cotton blouses and skirts she wore around the plantation.

The kitchen maid arrived with the tea tray. Famished, Julia helped herself to a scone with clotted cream and jam, but she stopped after a few bites when she noticed Susan wasn’t touching her tea or any of the pastries and looked paler than before.

She set her plate on the low table between their chairs. “Susan, I can see you aren’t well.” She kept her voice low so as not to awaken Mrs. Ransome and cause undue concern. “Shall I fetch Agatha and have her bring a cordial to you?”

Susan managed a weak smile and started to rise. “You are too good to me, dear Julia. If you will not take offense, I do believe I will retire to my room—”

Julia leapt out of her seat to catch Susan before her friend collapsed face-first on the ground. She eased herself and Susan down onto the grass, Susan’s head cushioned on her lap, and reached for the silver bell on the tea tray.

Mrs. Ransome awoke with a slight gasp, knelt beside Julia, and waved a vial of salts beneath Susan’s nose. Susan twitched and opened her eyes, embarrassment bringing color back to her face.

“I’m terribly sorry.” Susan struggled to sit up, but Julia, larger and stronger, held her still.

“Never you mind about that.” Julia smoothed her friend’s now wild reddish-gold curls back from her face. “I just want to ensure you aren’t ill.”

Mrs. Ransome felt Susan’s forehead, as if checking for fever. “My dear, this may seem like an indelicate question, so please forgive me. How far along is your pregnancy?”

Susan’s eyes widened. “I am not...I cannot. Two years ago, after my last miscarriage, the doctor told me,...”

Mrs. Ransome scrutinized her. “Doctors are not always right. I have been a midwife most of my life. I know when a woman is with child before she does in most cases.”

“I—you—are you certain?” Julia asked Mrs. Ransome, nearly choking on a jumble of emotions.

“I have never yet been wrong. But Susan, you should go upstairs and rest now. All the heat and activity of this morning is not good for you.”

Under mostly her own power and apologizing all the way, Susan made it to her bedchamber, assisted by Julia and Mrs. Ransome, followed by the housekeeper. Susan’s maid took over her care once they arrived.

Assured her friend was well, Julia followed the housekeeper down the hall to Charlotte’s room. Lace curtains billowed in the breeze, and bright splashes of silk fabric draped nearly every stationary piece of furniture. Julia smiled; the room was so like Susan.

A baby.

The fleeting thought that Julia might convince Susan to accompany Collin to Jamaica, then stay on at Tierra Dulce for a year or more, came back to haunt her. Never would Collin—nor Julia herself—allow Susan to sail in her condition.

“Julia, is Charlotte—?” Mrs. Ransome leaned her head into the room and frowned. “I wonder where that girl has gotten off to.” Shaking her head, she left.

A washstand near a tall painted screen beckoned. Julia poured lilac-scented water into the basin and used the soft cloth to soothe her hot, sticky skin. She’d best enjoy this kind of luxury while she could. Such indulgences wouldn’t be available on board ship.

The breeze wafting into the room did little to provide relief from the heat. Julia crossed to the large bed to lie down.

A baby. The fulfillment of Susan’s greatest wishes and prayers.

Would it be a cherub of a little boy with his mother’s blue eyes and ginger hair? Or a golden-crowned girl with Collin’s brown eyes and dimples? If Susan and Collin were to have a son, and Julia and William a daughter—

She sat bolt upright. Allowing herself to continue that thought would only jeopardize her plan to remain distant. Although physically exhausted, she gave up trying to rest. She found her way downstairs and outside. The garden was large for a townhouse of this size, with a fountain surrounded by willows beyond the arbor where they had taken tea earlier. The manicured grass tickled her bare feet.

Looking over her shoulder to ensure no one from the house could see her, Julia lifted her skirts and stepped into the shallow pool surrounding the water-spouting swan. The cobblestone under her feet was nothing like the soft sand of her beach, but the cool water lapping about her ankles nearly brought tears of joy to her eyes.