Breakwater Beach (11 page)

The confusion on the platform increased as departure time neared. Passengers milled about, bumping into each other, dragging trunks and baggage. Railroad workers escorted travellers to the correct cars and placed small stools for easier boarding.

The whistle blew a startling gust of noise, steam poured out from under the train. Constables circulated along the platform to keep order. Elisabeth turned her back and hid her face. She plowed through the crowd, back toward the first class cars.

“All aboard.” The conductor stopped slamming doors to help her ascend the steps.  

She joined the maids already seated in their compartment. Visions of her father waiting to drag her off danced in her mind. The marriage certificate would do her no good if the last train of the day to Liverpool left without her.

“Please, God, let us get moving.” It was already ten past. What was the delay? Her heart flopped in her chest when the conductor rapped on the window.

The constable at his side slid open the doors. “Pardon me, Lady Baxter. His Lordship, Earl Baxter of Camberley, has asked that you be seen home to safety.”

Elisabeth forced herself to breathe deeply and remain calm. “Constable, I have assured His Lordship he has nothing to be concerned about. I’m Mrs. Edward Barrett on my way to Liverpool. Tomorrow, I’m bound for Boston, Massachusetts, first class, aboard the
Steamship Batavia
to meet my husband.” Elisabeth held her head high and flashed her most charming and haughty smile.

The constable glanced at the conductor and stuttered. “My lady, he . . .”

“See here.” Elisabeth gave him the packet of documents, and he rifled through the pages.

“Lady Elisabeth Baxter Barrett and the Misses Storch, Sara and Katherine.” He peered down at her, lips pursed.

Sara and Katherine, gripping each other’s arms, nodded furiously to acknowledge their names.

“I am Mrs. Edward Barrett, Constable. As I said, I will be quite well looked after.” Elisabeth repeated her words with emphasis and pointed out the marriage certificate.

The constable regained his composure and returned the papers. “Thank you, ladies. I will assure His Lordship that you were most confident in your husband’s arrangements. Have a pleasant journey.” He touched a hand to the brim of his cap and departed.

Elisabeth watched out the window as he walked along the now-deserted platform toward the station.

The conductor punched the tickets and closed the compartment door.

“I thought we’d be arrested.” Katherine’s voice quavered.

“We’ve done nothing wrong.” Sara embraced her sister.

“No, none of us have. His Lordship is the one in error and must face that fact.” Elisabeth removed her hat and rested her head against the seat back, staring at the ornate tin ceiling.

The conductor left them in peace for the four-hour trip. It took most of that time for her heart to stop beating like a bird trying to escape from its cage.

Elisabeth hired another cab in Liverpool and tipped the driver handsomely for hauling the baggage.

Now more kindly disposed to his passengers, the chap was eager for more. “Where ta, milady?”

“A clean, inexpensive hotel. We’re to sail on the
Batavia
.”

“Very good. The Claremont should do. Could walk ta the ship if ye didn’t have so much ta carry.” He chuckled as he guided the horse through the seedy, dirty portside streets to a far from luxurious hotel near the dock. The hulk of the steamship obscured what light the sputtering gas lamps provided.

Just as well, she would be harder to find. “Sara, Katherine, wait here while I see if there is space.” Elisabeth entered a dingy lobby and approached the man at the desk.

“Mrs. Edward Barrett, sir. I need a room large enough for two maids and myself. We will be sailing tomorrow.” Despite the worries, public acknowledgment of who she was and to where she was bound was comforting.

“Two maids?” The lone clerk took a key off a wooden board behind him. “I’ve only one room available, one bed. Ten shillings, breakfast included. Second floor, third door on the right.”

Elisabeth paused to think. They’d need fare for transport in the morning. She couldn’t bear the thought of driving around looking for something better and risk being intercepted. The lobby didn’t smell bad and was tidy albeit sparsely appointed.

The driver had joined her. “Won’t find anything better at this price, milady, believe me.”

Elisabeth turned to the desk clerk. “Can you have the bellman unload our things?”

“Very good. Top of the stairs.” He plunked the key on the counter, tapped the bell and a uniformed worker accompanied the driver out to the hansom cab.

Katherine and Sara wandered in like lost children, clutching satchels containing all their worldly possessions.

“This way.” Elisabeth led the way up and fumbled with the lock.

Sara took over and the door creaked open. The smell of stale tobacco wafted out. They waited in the hall while the bellman hauled the trunks upstairs and lined them up along on the far side of the room, in front of the lone window. There was no space between them and the left side of the bed.

Just being out of sight offered Elisabeth relief, even though the three of them barely fit in the room together. Katherine stretched across the bed to unpack their necessities, and they took turns washing in a small dressing area behind a moth-eaten curtain.

“We should get some dinner.” Elisabeth didn’t feel hungry, and had no desire to walk about, but none of them had eaten a bite all day.

“We need some air.” Sara opened the window. Humidity, tinged with the smell of salt, sewage, and rubbish blew in. Hardly refreshed, she closed it once again. “Something simple, nearby. Like that one across the street.”

Shoulder to shoulder, they crossed, dodging carriages and piles of manure, sailors, and an occasional traveler who stood out, as they did, by their mannerisms and dress. The establishment sold only fish and chips wrapped in greasy newspaper.

“Shall we search for something else?” Elisabeth asked.

“I’m too tired to go any further,” Katherine answered.

“This will do for me,” Sara said.

Elisabeth ordered and paid. The proprietor handed over three servings. The fish was fresh and tasted much better than she expected: hot, crispy, and filling.

Dusk fell as they walked back to the hotel and their tiny room. Sara turned down the bed. Elisabeth fluffed pillows while Katherine laid out their nightclothes. The linens were as rough as sackcloth and smelled like lamp oil.

“The two of you sleep here,” Elisabeth said, already feeling quite guilty about dragging them along on this odyssey.

“No, of course not,” Sara said.

“I insist.” Elisabeth took a pillow and a quilt off the bed and arranged it on the floor behind the dressing area screen, ending the discussion.

After they took turns undressing and getting ready for sleep, Katherine and Sara snuggled together. Exhausted by the turmoil and travel, they fell to sleep almost immediately. Elisabeth tried to ignore the hard floor and stale odours. She imagined how wonderful it would feel to lie with her husband again. It had been years, but now even weeks seemed too long a wait. She closed her eyes, grateful that one giant hurdle had been cleared, and to be one day closer to that reunion.

There were to be no such pleasant dreams. Edward floated motionless in the Atlantic, forever silent, unable to keep any of his promises. A gust of wind blew, and the sea churned, swallowing him without a trace. A scream died on her lips as she awoke in a cold sweat, her heart beating like a frightened bird’s wings. The lantern flame sputtered and went out. Eerie moonlight filtered through a filmy haze cast shadows in every corner.

Could what her father said be true? Or were they lies conjured to scare her, keep her from fleeing? Had Edward already broken his vow of fidelity? Had he done the terrible things her father accused him of?

Elisabeth spent the rest of the night seated on her trunk staring out the grimy window onto the street below. Liverpool was bustling, even late at night, full of sailors and raucous bar patrons spilling out into the streets. The restaurant was closed, but the stench of fried fish still wafted through the air. A pair of constables patrolled, peering into alleys and doorways. Were they looking for her? Even after they’d disappeared into the night, she couldn’t abandon watch.

In the early morning damp and mist, exhausted and already sick to her stomach, she and the maids joined a ragtag assembly of travelers in the dining room. Though deliberately dressed as a commoner, her clothing was better tailored. No one there had one maid, let alone two. Some wore sackcloth, clearly bound for steerage. The tea was hot and the jams tasty enough to soften the stale scones and crumpets, but she didn’t dare linger in case dear Papa had put the word out for someone to snatch and drag her back.

“I’m going up to finish packing. The two of you rest here for a while.”

Both maids looked at her askance, as if puzzled by the role reversal.

She needed to get out of this place before being discovered. “The room is so small . . .” Elisabeth fled, slammed, and locked the door behind her. Sara and Katherine came up a short time later, but she had already put away the few things they’d taken out.

“I asked the chap at the desk to have someone come up for our things about ten, Elisabeth,” Sara said. “He said he’d get us a porter to bring the trunks on a trolley, and we can walk. It’s not far.”

Elisabeth bit her quivering lower lip. Saving money was appealing, but any of those people on the streets could be looking for her, or an easy target. “All right, thank you, Sara. I’ll settle our account then, and we’ll soon be on our way.”

“Yes.” The older sister’s cryptic response did not project enthusiasm.

“You can still change your mind, Sara. I will pay your passage anywhere you want to go. You as well, Katherine.” How she would afford that remained to be seen.

“No, Elisabeth, we’re going with you.” Katherine had always been the most devoted and agreeable of the pair. “Talked about it at breakfast, we did. It’s the best thing for all of us, really.”

“Very good. I’ll see to the arrangements.” Elisabeth left before they could change their minds. She settled the account then found an armchair in a secluded corner to remain out of sight and tried to banish the ghoulish portents from her mind. She stepped outside only when the bags were on the cart and the maids assembled, as if for funeral cortege, behind it.

Her heart pounding like the horse’s hooves, she joined them for the short but smelly trip over cobbles slick with God only knew what. Just a few blocks beyond the fish restaurant, the
Batavia
rose like a behemoth over ramshackle buildings. Elisabeth led the way up the gangplank. Her eyes scanned the crowd like a criminal’s, ready to kick anyone who dared disturb her off the rickety board, through the tangled rope guardrail, and into the black water tinged with scum.

“Hurry, please.” She barely had enough money to tip the porters who rolled the trolley with their trunks up the steep incline and to the stateroom. When the ship’s whistle blew, relief washed over her like gentle sea spray.

No one amongst the throngs of family members waving handkerchiefs, seeing beloved relatives off on their transatlantic journey, cried for Elisabeth Baxter Barrett. If Edward were not there to meet her when the ship docked, the only way to return would be like those dressed in rags below decks. No one would welcome her home. Like the others, she’d made her decision and there was no going back. Relief traded places with trepidation as she watched England recede into the horizon for what would probably be the last time.

Chapter 12

June 1875

Boston, Massachusetts

Elisabeth peered out the portholes, desperate to see more than steel grey waves capped with silver froth. The ship pitched yet again, slamming her already bruised hip against the wall. She dressed for dinner and knocked at the door of the adjoining stateroom. Katherine and Sara had been prostrate for nearly the entire two weeks, so sickened they had been to the dining room no more than once or twice.

There was no response. Elisabeth pushed the door open.

Sara, as white as the scented linens in the first class cabin, sat up and tried to shake off her misery. “Do you need something, Elisabeth?”

“No, only to find out if you and Katherine will be joining me for dinner tonight.”

Katherine, curled up on her side facing the wall, simply waved her hand.

Sara struggled to her feet. “I best stay with my sister.”

“I’ll have the steward bring you both something.”

“Very good. But I’ve little appetite. What I’d really like is to be on firm ground again.” Sara’s normally hardened shell had cracked. The expression on her face was one of defeat, disgust, and resignation.

“I’m dining at the captain’s table. Perhaps I can pressure him for an answer to when we’ll be arriving.” The least she could offer the poor women was hope things would improve.

Craving fresh air, Elisabeth braved the outdoor deck, holding tightly to the gunwale, scanning the horizon for any sign of land. Nothing poked through the fog. The cool breeze freshened her lungs, but in short order dampened her hair and clothes. A chill penetrated her bones. Doubts once again pricked her gut.

Elisabeth latched the cabin door shut and made her way back inside to the dining room. She hoped for a reprieve from other peers of the realm pumping her for information about her husband. There was little to say about a man she barely knew and hadn’t seen for nearly two years. What had he been doing? Where had he found the money to pay for this? What should she say when they inquired about her mother and father?

The dining room steward met her at the door. “You’ve been outside, Mrs. Barrett?”

It was pleasing, but still strange to hear her married name used freely. “I needed some air. Could you please send two trays to my staterooms?” 

“Of course, my lady. It seems the others aren’t as seaworthy as yourself.”

He took her arm and escorted her to a dais. “Captain Stilton, Lady Elisabeth Baxter Barrett.”

Stilton, dressed in a blue wool coat with rows of brass buttons, had likely just come down from the bridge. He bowed, took her hand, and kissed it. “My lady, a pleasure to dine with you. I trust your voyage has been comfortable.”

Elisabeth laughed. “It’s been a bit rough.”

“Yes, but we should be past the worst of it after tonight. I expect to be in Boston in two days’ time.” Still in good humour, he patted his ample girth with both hands.

“Good to hear, Captain.” He reminded her of the caricature of Saint Nicholas, his wind-burned rosy cheeks and nose in stark contrast to his snow-white beard. 

The ship pitched her against him. Steadfast and obviously used to this, he caught and righted her. “Shall we dine?” The captain’s nonchalance and his firm, steady hand reassured her, at least momentarily, that there was no danger.

“Yes, of course.”

He assisted her into a seat, but remained standing until he’d greeted the other guests, assuaging their fears and concerns in similar fashion. After the perfunctory introductions, and the seemingly endless dinner service, the orchestra switched from soft instrumentals to dance music.

“My lady?” Captain Stilton extended his hand.

He led her in a waltz until another swell tossed the ship, pitching them into another couple. Only the supreme balance of the captain and the other gentleman prevented the four of them from being thrown to the floor. Overturned glasses of red wine bloodstained the white tablecloths.

“Please excuse me, Mrs. Barrett. There is no danger, but I must go to the bridge.” He kissed her hand and left her on the dance floor alone.

Hardly reassured this time, Elisabeth retrieved her wrap and reticule, bid her tablemates good night, and walked the corridors towards her stateroom holding onto the walls for support. Sara and Katherine’s trays were untouched, and they lay fast asleep. She locked the doors and settled into her bed, head spinning, nauseated, dreading the night ahead. Was her dream of Edward drowned a premonition? If she went to the bottom tonight, might he already be there to meet her? Would that constitute their joyous reunion?

On every one of the last sixteen nights, she’d awakened in a cold sweat wondering if Edward had been lost at sea or if he would indeed be there to meet her in Boston. What would it be like, seeing him for the first time since his frantic flight from the hotel after their whirlwind wedding? Had his hands touched another woman in the two years apart? Had his lips spoken sweet lies to another? If she asked him about his past, would he tell her the truth, or what she wanted to hear?

It was four days later that Elisabeth stood on deck, relieved to finally see land in the distance. With the darkness of the sea and the perpetual mist she feared she would never feel warm again. The realisation of what she’d done enveloped her like the fog. Edward’s last letter, with the tickets, had come three months ago. What if he wasn’t there to meet her?

Would the hunger of his hands be the same since their last goodbye kiss? Would the rasp of his beard against her cheek be as pleasing? She’d spent only two stolen nights with him. What would it be like to live together, not having to hide that they were married? How could she bear to say hello and then goodbye when he sailed again?

“Imagine, the Yanks welcoming Britons to their shores.” Sara startled her.

“They haven’t welcomed us yet.” Elisabeth surveyed a teeming Boston Harbour as the ship’s engines growled and groaned, slowing their approach just as it appeared they’d strike the pier. Three wooden dories rowed toward them, and the sailors tossed ropes overboard to the men, allowing the triangle of boats to tow them the rest of the way.

Shrill voices of hawkers ashore drifted toward them. A crowed began to gather along the dock, waving hands, handkerchiefs, pushing each other aside to get closer. The ship’s whistle sounded, deep, mournful, despite the jubilant chatter of relieved passengers all around. They thudded to a complete stop, and the crew ran about, securing the
SS Batavia
in its berth and moving the gangplank into place.

Relatives on the dock below swarmed forward, searching for their loved ones. Passengers desperate to disembark jostled by in their impatience to make their way onto firm ground.

“What shall we do, my lady?” Katherine asked, her eyes wide as she took in the sights.

“We will wait here until the crowd disperses. Captain Barrett assured me he and some of his men would meet us and carry our things.” Elisabeth’s entire body quivered. They were penniless in a foreign country. What if he didn’t come?

The wealthy trailed porters carrying trunks and baggage. Those from steerage, dressed in rags, clutched battered satchels or runny-nosed babies to their chests and marched resolutely ahead. Gaelic, as well as the queer twang of the Yanks, filled the air. Cabbies herded passengers into carriages. Horses stood amidst the chaos, with an occasional toss of their heads and tails, until the whip cracked and they trotted off. The smell of manure, wet rope, and rotting garbage mingled.

Elisabeth’s stomach churned.
Is that . . .?

Yes!
Her husband pushed his way past through the sea of people. He’d dressed for the occasion in a crisp blue coat and trousers, white shirt and glossy black boots, with a cap atop his black curls. Three merchant sailors, uniforms neat and clean, trailed in his wake.

“Edward!” Relief flooded through her like warm water, washing away the doubts and misgivings.

His eyes turned to her voice, and he ran up the gangplank, dodging disgruntled passengers as he fought against the downward flow of humanity. Elisabeth trembled with anticipation, craving the security and calm of his arms. He appeared older, weathered and determined. Maybe even desperate.

Edward jerked to a halt in front of her. He took her hands and pressed them to his lips. Tears streamed down her cheeks as he hugged her, then ran his hands up and down the curve of her back. Only decorum kept her from collapsing against him. She took deep breaths to keep from fainting.

“My love,” he exclaimed, “it’s so wonderful to see you! How was your voyage? I want to hear all about it.”

“And to have some time with your lovely lady, I’m sure,” a man with an American accent said. She recognized him as one of the three she had seen with Edward on the dock.

Edward released his grasp, but held on to her arm. “Elisabeth, this is Kyle Vauxhall, my first mate. He and the others will see to your belongings.”

“Mr. Vauxhall.” Elisabeth dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief and extended her hand.

He took it into his, glanced sideways at his captain, then bowed and shook it vigorously. “It’s a pleasure to welcome you, Mrs. Barrett.”

“Good day, Mrs. Barrett,” the other two men behind Vauxhall murmured, but she knew they didn’t dare step past their commanding officers.

“Thank you. Sara and Katherine Storch are my maids.” Elisabeth gestured at the two women standing to the side, thinking how nice it was to be addressed as Edward’s wife.

“Welcome to America, ladies,” Edward said. “Perhaps you could show the men to your staterooms so they might retrieve the baggage?”

“Of course, Captain.” Sara turned to her sister whose eyes were fixed wide in a state of shock. “Come, Katherine.” She led the way.

Katherine lagged behind, a short distance ahead of the sailors.

“Should we allow them to be alone with three strange men in all this chaos?” Elisabeth asked. “Katherine, in particular, is very innocent and timid.”

“I trust Kyle Vauxhall with my life. They’re perfectly safe. And you’re finally here. I feared this moment would never come.” He bent under the brim of her hat to kiss her lips.

“Edward, it’s not proper to do this in public.” She placed her hands on his shoulders to hold him in abeyance.

“I haven’t seen you for two years, and I don’t care what’s proper.” He pulled her toward him and his lips nibbled down her cheek to her neck.

Elisabeth lowered her head and suppressed a smile. Her cheeks burned. No one around them seemed to take any notice. “We can certainly wait another hour or so, my darling.” As much as she’d anticipated being with him, time and distance had erased all but the most vivid memories of their coupling. She was like a virgin again, but he might not understand that.

The men hauled the baggage out of the staterooms. Edward helped them guide a trolley down the gangplank. Elisabeth and the maids followed treading carefully, wobbly from sea legs, each carrying a satchel and gripping the railing for support. They loaded their belongings onto a flat wagon drawn by a scrawny horse that looked like he might drop in his tracks at any moment. The two sailors hopped aboard. “Dock 7,” one said, and the horse clomped off.

Vauxhall offered one arm to Sara and the other to Katherine. “Ladies, it’s a short distance to
The Sea Mist
.” They followed the wagon.

Edward took her hand and kissed it. “You’ve never seen my ship. I’ve readied it for our two or three day voyage to Cape Cod, where we’ll be living. Shall we?”

“Of course.” She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, another delightful thing they’d barely had time to practice. Elisabeth’s struggled to get her footing on land.

Edward put his arm around her and peered under the hat once again. “Hang on tight, my love. I don’t want you to fall in the gutter.” His lips brushed her cheek.

“I’m exhausted from all this, Edward. I need a good rest.”

“And you have one. I’m sure the journey was an ordeal.”

“Yes.” Just thinking about it brought tears to her eyes. She leaned on her husband for balance, and they stepped off toward the panorama of masts silhouetted against the clear blue sky at the opposite end of the harbour.

The hubbub of the ocean liner dock gave way to the quiet sleaze of the smaller ship berths. Unshaven sailors in tattered clothing, hair tangled and wild, hung off the two- and three-masted sailing vessels, whistling, stomping, and calling out.

“Two men, three wenches, and look at them, will you? All fresh ‘n pretty, done up with hats and bustles.”

“Aye’d love ta get underneath those skirts and into those pantalets.”

The tirade symbolically ripped her clothing off, leaving her feeling naked, vulnerable, fearful. She walked with her head high, but clung tightly to Edward’s arm.

“I’ll toss my men overboard if they take one step over the line.” Edward picked up the pace to get past the hecklers.

“I’m sorry, ladies,” Vauxhall said to Sara and Katherine. “These men aren’t schooled in proper behavior.”

“Things were not even this coarse in Liverpool. I do hope we’ll be there soon.” Sara found the courage to speak while Katherine buried her head chin into her chest and hid her face.

“Almost. There’s
The Sea Mist
.” Edward beamed at the sight of his ship.

Elisabeth saw their trunks being hoisted aboard the three-masted schooner whose bow pierced the air in front of it like a needle. The sickly horse trotted by, drawing the now-empty cart. He lifted his tail, depositing a pile of steaming manure in the gutter.

A gentleman dressed in a business suit and hat stood on the dock, in front of a carriage.

“Elisabeth,” Edward said, “this is Neville Somersell, the owner of the shipping company.”

“Mrs. Barrett, what a pleasure to welcome you to America. Captain, you never told me your wife was so beautiful.” Somersell kissed her hand and bowed, his nose almost touching his belt buckle. “The Cape is lovely, my dear, but a bit isolated. Any time you’d like, I’d be delighted to show you around Boston. I think you’ll find it more to the taste of a sophisticated lady such as yourself.”