Far Horizons (22 page)

“I’d hardly say that.” Margaret looked serious. “I’ve neglected the responsibilities here, Harriet, and I’m sorry for adding to your burden. I’ve been so--” she exhaled almost angrily. “Consumed by my own petty concerns! And here you are, struggling to keep heart and soul together.”

“It’s not as bad as that.”

Margaret pressed her lips together. “Almost. I’ve been distracted--”

“So I’ve gathered.” Harriet gave her a small smile. “I wonder what distracts you so?”

Margaret flushed. “Never mind that. What can I do to help?”

“Find some money?” Harriet joked. She leaned against the doorway. “To speak truth,” she said slowly, “I think I’ve found a way out of this fankle. I’m just not sure whether to act upon it.”

“A way out? But what could that be?”

Harriet shook her head. “I won’t speak of it yet. We’d best get some sleep. There will be plenty of time to discuss things tomorrow.”

The next morning, Margaret set out for Tobermory once again. She left Rupert and Ian at their tutor’s house, and headed for the docks.

The harbour was bustling with activity as several ships made preparations to sail that evening. Margaret’s heart hammered in anticipation of seeing Henry. What would he say? Would he be glad to see her?

She had not even reached the gangplank when he was there before her, hurrying from the ship.

“Margaret!” Henry stood before her, his blue eyes bright with happiness, his hands outstretched. “I can scarcely believe it! I’ve been looking for you during all my leave, but you seem to have disappeared! How did you know I was ashore?”

“I didn’t,” Margaret admitted. “It was only by chance that I came here at all.”

Henry clasped her hands. “I’m very glad to see you,” he said quietly. “I’d been hoping you would have written me, but no matter.”

“I... I wanted to,” Margaret stammered, feeling like the kind of silly missish girl she despised. Henry’s hands warmed her own, and she was glad he hadn’t taken them from hers.

“Can you spare a moment to come below quarters and have a cup of ale? It’s not much, I know, and the quarters are humble...”

“I...” Margaret hesitated. “I don’t know if that’s proper.”

“Of course!” Henry had the grace to blush. “Forgive me, I’m just so delighted to see you. I was afraid I would sail without sight of your lovely face, and another year would pass before we might meet again.”

“You sail tonight?” Margaret said, her disappointment audible.

“Yes, and I won’t be back for a year. I’ve a commission in the Caribbean over the winter.” Henry squeezed her hands. “In light of that, there’s little time to waste. I apologise for my forwardness, but I can’t wait a year to declare my intentions to you, Margaret. It’s thought of you which has sustained me all spring, and I dare not think you feel the same...”

“You may dare,” Margaret said, feeling suddenly breathless. Was Henry saying what she thought he was... what she could scarcely hope he was?

“Do you mean that?”

Margaret nodded, unable to form words.

“Margaret, I love you. Will you wait for me, for this year, that I may return and claim you as my own, my bride?”

“Yes,” Margaret whispered. “Yes, I’ll wait.”

“You’ve made me the happiest man today.” Henry’s face radiated his joy. “May I kiss you, Margaret?”

Margaret could barely speak. She wasn’t aware of the bitter wind or the plaintive cry of the seagulls, or even of the sailors who went about their business around them. All she think of was Henry, and that he loved her. “You may,” she whispered, and closed her eyes as Henry brushed his lips with hers. His arms encircled her, and Margaret knew that home was where he was and would be. She laid his cheek against the rough wool of his coat, her mind and heart seeming to tumble within her.

“You’ll wait for me, then?” Henry asked as they stepped apart. “I know a year is a long time, but I’ll come back to you, I swear it on my life.”

“I know you will.” She trusted Henry with everything she had, Margaret realised, and the thought made her giddy. “I must go,” she said reluctantly. “They’ll miss me back at home.”

“Tell me where to find you, when I return. I’ve heard the farm where you board is to be sold.”

“I’m not sure where I’ll be,” she admitted. “You can leave letters with my father’s shipping agent, Mr. McIlvain.”

Henry grasped her hands. “You’ll be all right? You’ll stay safe, and where I can find you? And what of your father? The innkeeper at Craignuire said you might be sailing for that shore soon.”

“There has been no word yet,” Margaret replied, her heart thudding at the thought of the many changes that lay ahead. “Whatever happens, I’ll leave word with the shipping agent. You will find me.”

“I vow I will,” Henry agreed, although his face was anxious. “I’m loath to let go of you,” he admitted with a shaky laugh. “Now that I’ve found you once.”

“You’ll find me again,” Margaret promised, and dared to stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek.

“I’ll write you often, and think of you more,” Henry promised. “Goodbye... but only for a little while.”

Margaret watched him walk away with longing in her heart. A year was not a long time, she told herself, and yet it seemed endless. Harriet and Allan had been separated for little more than a year, and their own wedding seemed no closer. Would the same happen to her?

After leaving
The Allegiance
, Margaret called at the office of her father’s shipping agent.

“There’s another letter here for you,” Mr. McIlvain told her. “From your family. Came in this morning.”

It would be good to hear news of them, and Margaret took the letter gladly. The rest of her journey her mind was occupied with thoughts of Henry... and the future she dreamed they would share together.

Quickly, right there at the harbourside, Margaretd broke the seal of her father’s letter, surprised when two pieces of paper fell out, along with the letter. She looked down and realised at once what they were... two tickets for passage to Canada, for her and Rupert, on the first sailing next spring.

Her mind went numb as she stared at the bits of paper. Would Henry find her there, she wondered, her stomach taking an icy plunge. Would he bother to look? Even though she believed in Allan’s fidelity, she felt the distance of the ocean between him and Harriet, and the frailty of old promises lost on a seafaring wind.

She could tell him at least, Margaret decided, although she wasn’t sure what good might come of it. She walked quickly back to
The Allegiance
, only to be stopped at the pier by one of Henry’s men.

“The captain’s gone out,” the sailor told her without much regret. “Won’t be back till late. I suppose I could leave a message.”

Yes, Margaret thought, but what message? She longed for Henry’s dear face, his hands warm over hers as she explained her predicament. She didn’t trust this sailor to relay a message, especially as she wasn’t sure what message she could give.

“No,” she finally said, her voice a scratchy whisper. “No message.”

Her mind seethed with hungry anticipation all afternoon. In the evening, she threw aside her needlework with restless hands.

Harriet stared at her, eyebrows raised. “You look as if you’ve a storm brewing inside you.”

“How do you do it?” Margaret demanded. “Wait all this time--it’s a patience I cannot ken!”

“I cannot, either,” Harriet replied quietly. “It comes when there is no other choice.” She snipped a thread and gave Margaret a look of frank curiosity. “What--or who--are you waiting for then, Margaret MacDougall?”

Margaret blushed and looked away. “Nothing,” she murmured. “At least nothing I can say right now.”

Harriet eyed her sceptically. “There are too many secrets in this house, Lord knows,” she said softly, and turned back to her sewing.

The next morning, Margaret rose early, intent on helping Harriet shoulder the burden of their household. She was about to slip out to the henhouse to gather eggs when she saw the note on the kitchen table.

Dear Family. I cannot stay, and I hope you’ll forgive me. I’ve signed on as a ship’s boy on The Allegiance, sailing to the Caribbean and the Americas. It’s a small thing, but I vow I wi

ll not return till I have the price of Achlic in my hand. Give my regards to Father. Tell him I’m sorry. Ian.

The note was still in Margaret’s hand when Harriet came into the kitchen, still busy with putting up her hair. “You’re up early?” she said in surprise, her eyes narrowing as she took in Margaret’s pale face and the letter she was holding. “What’s happened? What is that?” Margaret struggled to find words, but Harriet already knew. “It’s Ian, isn’t it? He’s gone again.”

Margaret nodded. “He left a letter. He sailed yesterday evening, as ship’s boy on
The Allegiance
.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Ship’s boy?” Harriet stared in disbelief. “What on earth...?” She snatched the note from Margaret, reading it before throwing it down in disgust. “How can he do such an idiotic thing! He’s more than wet behind the ears, I can tell you that!”

Margaret smiled faintly, for she preferred Harriet’s temper to her tears. “That he is. Too bad he’s not here for us to tell him so.”

“Indeed, I’d give him a tongue lashing he’d ne’er forget!” Harriet sank onto the rocking chair by the fire. “What will I tell Father? And are we even likely to see poor Ian again?” She shook her head. “All the way to the Caribbean! Is everyone destined to fly this place?”

“He’ll come back,” Margaret said, aware that she’d made this vow before, and it was not hers to give. Her mind whirled, but she was beginning to realise that Ian's situation on
The Allegiance
could be to his benefit. “As a matter of fact,” she said slowly, “I know the sailing master of that ship. He's a good man. I could write him about Ian. I don't know if it will bring him back, but it might help keep him safe.”

“You know the master?” Harriet's eyes widened in surprise, but she was kept from asking further questions by a knock on the back door. Before she could even answer it, Jane MacCready poked her head through.

“Good afternoon. I've heard about Ian, and I thought you could use some help.”

“Bad news certainly travels,” Harriet replied with a touch of asperity. “We only just found out ourselves.”

“He was seen,” Jane explained. “My nephew saw him on board a ship bound for the Americas last night.”

“He must have snuck out right after dinner,” Harriet said in a hollow voice. “And we didn’t even know! And what of Rupert? They share a room. He was part of the conspiracy, no doubt.”

“I’ll speak to him,” Margaret said.

Harriet sighed. “There’s no reason in blaming him. Ian’s desperate to prove he’s man, so we might as well treat him as one, capable of taking his own decision. Ship’s boy!” This last was said in exasperation, and she turned to Jane. “I’m sorry for the confused state you find us in. Do come in. I’ll boil the kettle.”

“I’m calling so early because I thought I might be some use,” Jane said in her usual forthright manner. “Now that the situation with Ian is what it is, you must speak to your father.”

“I know.”

“Today.”

Harriet’s eyes flashed, and she pressed her lips together. She didn’t like being ordered around, yet Jane had made herself quite useful in the last few months, and moreover, Harriet knew she was right. “Today. Yes.”

Jane nodded, her face cracking into a rare smile. “I knew you’d see the way of it. You'd best tell him now,” she continued briskly. “I'll brew some tea, and bring it up in twenty minutes. That will give you enough time to talk. And then if you need a rescue...” There was a glimmer of a smile in her eyes, and Harriet nodded stiffly.

Normally she would've objected to another woman busying herself in her kitchen, yet the sight of Jane's competent form and brisk movements was strangely comforting.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, and slipped from the room.

Upstairs she knocked on David's door, and upon hearing his gruff bidding to enter, came into the bedroom. As always, the sight of his pale, drawn face and tired eyes pained her.

She stared at him, not knowing what to say or where to begin. David looked back at her, his face marked by a heavy scowl. “Something's amiss,” he said after a moment. “What is it?”

Harriet stood at the foot of the bed, her hands clasped. She drew a breath, steeling herself. “I'm sorry, Father. Things... haven't gone well. I didn't want to bring bad news, I was hoping to spare you...”

“Enough of this,” David said brusquely. “Out with it. We've lost the farm, haven't we?”

Harriet blinked in surprise. “Yes.” Her voice wavered as she continued, “I'm sorry, Father. I know I could've done...”

“Come here, lass.” David's voice was both rough and gentle as he beckoned her to his side. Harriet went, sitting on the stool by his head. “There was nothing you could do, Harriet. Do you think I don't blame myself for the fankle we're in? It was I who ran Achlic into debt, not you or anyone else. We had bad harvests, there's not a doubt, but at the end of the day the blame rests with me.” He sighed heavily and closed his eyes briefly. “Aye, me.” After a moment he turned to look at her. “What happened, then?”

“Ian went to sell the twenty acres,” Harriet explained falteringly, “and he sold everything instead.”

“What! Why would he do such a foolish thing?”

“It was an accident, Father. A trick. He signed the contract without reading it all.”

“That brainless lad, for all his lessons!” This was said with more resignation than anger. “And who played such a low trick? It wouldn't have been Mr. Franklin, I'm sure.”

“No, it was Sir James.”

“That scoundrel,” David spat, his face suffused with rage. “He's always wanted my land. Can't get enough of it, can he?” He shook his head. “Of all the people...”

“Ian feels terribly, Father,” Harriet said in a low voice. “He ran away.”

“Good, for he ought to be whipped. He'll come back soon enough, when the cold and hunger have got to him. Teach him a lesson he'll naught forget.”