Hiding from Love (8 page)

Finny was too astounded at her admission that she would rather marry a horse than a real live Lord to say any more on the subject.

*

It was late in the afternoon when the trap reached the gates of Bristol Docks and Leonora looked about with interest as they drove through.

She directed Finny towards a long low building that she surmised correctly was the Ticket Office.

Finny waited in the trap while she went in.

The Office was nearly empty and behind the door a gentleman sat reading a newspaper, but her gaze was fixed nervously on the clerk behind the counter.

Leonora coughed and he regarded the young lady in front of him.  He then glanced beyond her as if expecting to see a chaperone of some sort.

“I was wondering – whether I could book passage on a ship – ” began Leonora.

The clerk looked over the top of his glasses.

“Did you have any particular ship in mind, miss?”

“Well, any ship going to Brazil would do.”

“Brazil, eh?  Are you travelling alone, miss?”

“I am,” admitted Leonora, colouring.

“What age are you?”

Leonora lifted her chin defiantly.

“Old enough to travel, sir!  I am sixteen.”

The clerk seemed to consider.

“There's a ship embarking for South America this evening,” he said at last.

“That's wonderful!”

“It's a cargo ship, miss.  It takes passengers, but I should warn you that there's no First Class.”

“Oh, that is quite all right with me,” said Leonora, secretly grateful that she would not be put in the position of having to reveal that she could not afford First Class.

She must conserve her small funds, since she had no idea how far they would stretch before she could secure employment at her destination.

The clerk picked up a pen to write out a ticket.

“Do you have much luggage, miss?”

“N-not much,” confessed Leonora, thinking of the sheet knotted at its four corners.

“And I presume your papers are in order?”

“My p-papers?”

“Your travelling papers, miss.”

It was something Leonora had not considered – had not even thought necessary.  She stared in utter dismay at the clerk, as he slowly raised his head to look at her.

“
Your papers
,” he repeated.

“I-I am afraid I-I quite forgot them – in the rush of packing.  Are they – essential?”

The clerk regarded her severely.

“Miss, you cannot leave this country or enter into another country without them.”

Leonora, in complete despair at seeing her plans so unexpectedly dashed, burst into unrestrained tears.

“You don't understand,” she sobbed.  “I-I must go to Brazil.  There's nowhere else for me now.”

She was aware of a slight rustle behind her as the gentleman by the door folded his paper and rose to his feet.

“I think I may well be of some assistance,” came his strangely familiar voice.

Leonora swung round, her eyes opening wide as she recognised the face before her.

It was that of
Señor de Guarda
!

*

The clerk regarded Señor de Guarda with interest.

“And how might you be of assistance?” he asked.

Before replying to him, Señor de Guarda took out a handkerchief and handed it to Leonora.

As he intended, she pressed it to her brimming eyes and so did not notice his next move, which was to take his wallet from his pocket and move closer to the counter.

“I might be of assistance to the tune of five pounds, for example,” he murmured pointedly.

The clerk ran his tongue over his lips and glanced at Leonora, who was still dabbing the tears away.

“I'm assuming the five pounds would require a few – um – stipulations to be overlooked?”

“Exactly.  So what do you say?”

The clerk lowered his voice.

“I take it – you know this young lady, sir?”

Señor de Guarda shrugged.

“Certainly I do.  You may be assured.”

“Well then, sir!”  The clerk reached out and swiftly drew the five pound note from Señor de Guarda's hand.

“I shall issue a ticket immediately.”

Leonora raised her head to Señor de Guarda.

“He is – selling me a ticket?”

“Of course.  All you must do is pay for it.”

He stepped aside as Leonora rested her reticule on the counter and with trembling fingers she took from it the leather pouch embroidered with the letter ‘
F
'.

Señor de Guarda's eyes settled on this for an instant before he looked away, whistling softly under his breath.

The clerk took Leonora's money and then held up her ticket in an admonishing manner.

“When you reach Brazil, miss, you'd better tell the authorities there that you mislaid your papers on the ship.  Or I'll be in trouble for letting you aboard at this end.”

“I'll do just what you say,” agreed Leonora, eagerly taking her ticket.

“
The Teresa of the Sea
sails at eight o'clock sharp,” continued the clerk, replacing his glasses on his nose.

Leonora, ticket clutched to her breast along with the pouch and the handkerchief, turned to Señor de Guarda.

“How can I ever thank you, Señor?”

“You can thank me by being an amiable companion on the long voyage,” he smiled.

“You are on
The Teresa of the Sea
as well?”

“I am,” he replied, opening the Ticket Office door and ushering her through.

Finny leaped down from the trap outside.

“You was a long while, miss,” said Finny, throwing a strange glare at Señor de Guarda.

Leonora explained that there had been a problem.

“Which this gentleman kindly solved for me.  You remember Señor de Guarda from the
Black Jack Inn
?”

“I remember him,” mumbled Finny curtly.

He pointed at the leather pouch, which Leonora still clutched to her breast.

“What you doing with the Master's purse?  He'll be cross if that's gone.”

Leonora flushed crimson.

She quickly tucked the pouch back into her reticule, and as she did so, the handkerchief that Señor de Guarda had given her fluttered from her grasp.

“Oh, I'm very sorry.  You were so kind to lend it to me.  I am ashamed to say I was in sore need of it.”

“Don't be ashamed, my dear lady,” smiled Señor de Guarda, picking it up.  “Your tears were most charming.”

Leonora noticed that his gaze strayed to her reticule as if musing on its contents.

“You have been most kind,” she repeated, uneasily thrusting the reticule behind her back.

“Just how could I not come to the aid of a damsel – how do you say it – in distress?  Fleeing her cruel father, perhaps – or an unwanted suitor?”

She gasped in alarm and he put a finger to his lips.

“I say nothing –
nothing
.  Now you must excuse me while I go and collect my luggage from the hotel.  We shall meet on board later.  At supper perhaps?”

Leonora nodded mutely as he walked away.

“He's a-goin' over the ocean too?” asked Finny.

“Yes,” said Leonora, realising that she was not as pleased at this prospect as she had been a few minutes ago.

He had guessed too near to the truth for her liking.

Finny was scowling.

“I don't like this, miss, come back home with me.”

Leonora shuddered.

“I can't, Finny.  Please don't ask again.  Just help me find the ship and then – you must leave and drive back to Broughton.”

Sullenly Finny helped her up beside him.

They drove around the docks until they located
The
Teresa of the Sea
, a solid if undistinguished vessel,

Her hold was open and great lengths of steel were being lowered into its depths.

Leonora stepped down from the trap and started up the gangplank with Finny following her, the knotted sheet slung over his shoulder.

The gangplank swaying beneath her feet reminded her that she had never been on a long sea voyage before and she wondered if she would be seasick.

An Officer greeted her on deck and took her ticket.  He examined it closely and then pointed aft.

Finny made to move, but the Officer barred his way.

“You can go no further unless you are travelling.”

Leonora turned.

Faced with the moment of truth, she was stricken at having to bid farewell to her last friend, her last link with home and childhood.

“Oh, Finny, I shall miss you so!”

“You oughtn't to go,” he muttered.

“I must, I must!  But let me embrace you!”

Finny stood stiff as Leonora threw her arms around him and then he turned round and made his way miserably down the gangplank.

On the quay he turned again and stared up at her.

She had to fight back an urge to run after him.

Then she hoisted up the sheet – too embarrassed to ask any of the porters to carry such strange luggage for her – and made for the cabin indicated on her ticket.

She threw off her hat and looked around.

The cabin was rather small but comfortable enough.  There was a washstand with a bowl and jug, towels laid out and a writing table with a stool.

On the table was a pen, inkwell and writing paper.

Leonora clapped her hands to her head – she had intended to write to Mama while the ship was still in port.  She should not have dismissed Finny, but asked him to wait so that he could post the letter for her onshore.

She rushed to the porthole and peered out.

Her cabin was portside and she could see the quay, but there was no sign of Finny.

Well, she must write the letter anyway, there would surely be a Steward who would take the letter ashore and post it before the ship sailed.

She sat at the writing table and took up the pen.

“
Darling Mama
,” she wrote,

“
By the time you read this I shall be far away, but
you are not to worry about me, please.

I am quite safe, on board
The Teresa of the Sea
and
sailing to Brazil.  My friend Isobel will look after me when
I arrive.  I am going to work as a Governess.

When I have earned enough to pay for your fare, I
will send for you.  I am sure you understand why I had
to lie to you and why I have run away.

Please do not return to that dreadful Mr. Schilling
and please do not tell him where I am.

I took his money, Mama, to pay my fare.  He will tell
you that I am a thief, but I intend to pay it back when I can
– after all he stole your money without compunction.

As for Lord Merton – if you should encounter him,
tell him nothing either.  Except to take away those clothes
he bought for me!

Your loving Leonora.
”

She reread the letter, folded and sealed it, picked up her reticule and then stepped out into the corridor.

She peered at cabin doors as she hurried along, but most were closed, although one or two stood open.

In one a startled young girl looked up as she passed, catching a glimpse of a long bony face and pale hair.

“Desirée!” a voice called from inside the cabin and the girl turned away.

On deck the Officer who had taken Leonora's ticket agreed to send someone ashore with her letter.

“There is plenty of time,” he added.  “We don't sail for another three hours.”

Leonora returned to her cabin where she untied the sheet and stared down at what it had held.

Her mother's dresses suddenly appeared to be old-fashioned and somewhat large.

She held them up against her with a sinking heart.  She would need a needle and thread to take them in or she would be a laughing stock on board.

She sank onto the bed, a green dress in her hands.

She remembered this dress.  Her mother had worn it years ago on the occasion of their one and only meeting at a hotel with Aunt Doris.

She recalled the elderly lady smelling of lavender water gazing down at her solemnly.

Even then Aunt Doris had talked affectionately of her sister's son, Arthur, her sole heir, and described him as a handsome lad with a streak of wildness.

She lay back on the bed, holding the dress tightly as if this vestige of her mother and happier times might prove of consolation in the trials that surely lay ahead.

She closed her eyes aware of the slight movement of the ship as it lay at anchor, and then sleep overtook her wearied senses.

*

A strange sound woke her.

She thought it was the bellow of a bull.  Then she realised it was the ship's funnel!

She sat up and from the porthole she could see the quayside receding.

She must have slept for nearly three hours!

The ship was sailing and all of a sudden her recent resolution and courage deserted her.

She stumbled over to the porthole, aware already of a slight sickening rise and fall beneath her feet.

Lights were flickering onshore in the gloom.

England was passing.

Home was passing away.  Mama, Finny, Fenfold – all were slipping away beyond the glass – all vanishing perhaps
forever
.

And that night – that wonderful night when she had danced with the masked gentleman – before she knew his character and before she knew his name.

Tears welled and spilled onto her cheeks.  Leaning her forehead on the glass, Leonora began to weep.

She was so alone and the ocean ahead was so vast, so fearful to her.

Whatever had she been thinking about, to set out on such a journey?

Even marriage to the arrogant Lord Merton might have been preferable to this immense loneliness!