My Sister's Prayer (9 page)

All of that changed, however, the afternoon Celeste first saw Jonathan Gray. Her heart skipped a beat at the memory. She was in the garden the first moment he appeared at the inn's back door. He was in uniform, and his blond hair was pulled back from his face, revealing chiseled features and a perfect mouth. His blue eyes brightened at the sight of her, and when she curtsied, he gave her a sweeping bow in return, his black hat in his hand.

Just an hour later, as they sat side by side on the garden bench that late autumn day, she already felt as if she'd known him her entire life. That, in turn, made her wonder what she'd ever seen in George. Comparing him to Jonathan was like comparing a candle to the sun. Jonathan was mature and disciplined and had a plan for his life. After he'd told her about his mother's death when he was six, his father's passing ten years later, and the subsequent loss of most of the family fortune, she felt more sympathetic toward him than she had anyone in her entire life. He'd had enough money left to buy a commission and become an officer, but he said that was all. In his duties, he'd been as far away as America.

“There are more opportunities there than you could ever imagine,” he said. “And everyone
belongs
no matter what their station is in life. Does that make sense?”

Celeste nodded, enthralled. She asked if he would go back to the New World.

“I'd like that more than anything, but I'll be assigned here for the next three years at least.” Then he thought for a moment as he took her hand. “Actually, since meeting you, I've changed my mind. I'd rather stay than go.”

Her heart raced in a way it never had with George. Jonathan squeezed her hand and pulled her close.

Soon she was slipping away from the inn to meet him at the market or to fit in a quick stroll along the Thames. In no time, Celeste felt that she would be willing to follow Jonathan to the ends of the earth—though there was no threat of having to. He had no plans to go anywhere. The problem was in convincing her parents to allow her to marry him. They wanted all their children to wed other Huguenots and preserve their faith and heritage, but Jonathan was Anglican. She broached the topic once, without giving specific details, and her parents made clear their expectations, as usual. All Jonathan and Celeste had were stolen moments together.

Not that she felt good about that. She wasn't usually the type for sneaking around—though, as it turned out, Berta was. Celeste was slipping back into the house one night just as her younger sister emerged from a window. They spotted each other at the same moment, and Celeste gasped. Berta, however, simply stood up straight, shot her a challenging look, and dashed off into the darkness. Obviously, she had a young man of her own—a fact that didn't surprise Celeste. Berta had always been impulsive and reckless, not to mention secretive. And her beauty guaranteed no shortage of handsome admirers. What niggled at Celeste now, in the steerage of the
Royal Mary
, was that after years of wishing Berta would grow up and rise to a certain level of behavior, she realized she had lowered herself to Berta's instead.

Regardless, Celeste couldn't seem to stop. Even when she and Jonathan weren't together, her mind was consumed with thoughts of him—and of how she might possibly convince her parents to give their blessing.

Before she could come up with a plan, however, Jonathan's orders changed. They had been seeing each other only two months when he learned he was being sent to Virginia with new orders and the promise of a land grant. How could he refuse? He would bring honor to his family again, but even more importantly, he would be able to support a wife and children.

In the time before he left, Jonathan was busy preparing to leave so Celeste didn't see
him as much. But the night before he sailed, he came by the inn and begged her to follow him on the very next ship. She hadn't made up her mind—until then. She'd never loved anyone the way she loved Jonathan, and she couldn't imagine how she ever could. Celeste had intended to leave a week later on the
Royal Mary
, the ship Jonathan had recommended. But it was full, so she'd had to wait until its next voyage, more than three months later.

Berta moaned again and shifted in her bunk. Celeste hoped Spenser would return soon. A damp rag would be so much better than the dry one she dabbed against her sister's sweaty forehead.

A few minutes later a man on the floor cried out, and she heard Spenser say, “Sorry, mate. I forgot you were there.” He was back with the water.

Celeste sighed. Oh, to be out of the confines of steerage. She didn't know how any of them had survived the horrible conditions. Spenser held the bucket steady, and Celeste spooned the liquid into Berta's mouth. Thankfully, her sister swallowed. After she and Spenser drank too—the water was still brackish, so Celeste had to force it down—she dipped the rag in the bucket and sponged Berta as best she could. The stench of steerage had seeped into every pore of their bodies. Celeste couldn't imagine how bad she smelled. She was determined that she would find a way to wash before Jonathan saw her.

“See if you can sneak on deck.” Spenser unwrapped a piece of hardtack, most likely his last, and handed her a portion. “Take a look at the New World, Celeste. It's beautiful.” He grinned. “I'll stay with Berta and try to feed her.” Spenser's feelings for Berta couldn't end well given his station, but there was no reason to worry about that now.

“Thank you,” Celeste said and then cringed at her judgmental attitude, acknowledging that she and Berta were currently in the same social class as Spenser. But they wouldn't be for long. And they hadn't been before. They were from French nobility, although her mother said that was all in the past.

She struggled to her feet, waited for her head to clear, and then moved toward the ladder. She nibbled the hardtack as she went, grateful for Spenser's generosity.

Celeste struggled up the ladder a rung at a time, and soon she was through the hatch, blinking at the bright sky and gulping in the salty air. The sailors up on deck were so jovial about soon landing that they took no notice of her. The rush of the sails unsettled her for a moment, along with the blinding light, but then she began to relax under the heat of the July sun. She crossed to the port side and shaded her eyes. She could make out the silhouette of trees in the distance, not a village or structure in sight. The New World was a wilderness, she knew. Only a few towns existed. Still, she longed to see some sort of settlement.

“This is all part of the Carolina colony,” a voice said behind her. “We were blown off course to the south, but we'll reach Virginia by the middle of the night.”

She turned her head, expecting to be sent below deck once the man realized she wasn't a first-class passenger. It was Captain Bancroft with a spyglass in his hand. Not more than a decade older than her eighteen years, he was handsome with his dark hair and blue coat with gold braiding. “How are you faring, Miss Talbot?”

“Fine, thank you, sir,” she answered, curtsying to him, surprised he remembered her name. She'd been shrill and beside herself when she'd confronted him about Berta's abduction, but he'd calmly explained there was nothing he could do at the time.

His first mate had chimed in that indentured servants frequently claimed they had been abducted, especially ones as ill as Berta, but the captain had shushed him. His expression kind, he'd told Celeste he was sincerely sorry for her troubles and promised to look into the matter as soon as the voyage was over.

“When do you anticipate that we'll reach the James?” she asked now.

He stepped to her side. “So you know your colonial rivers?”

“Yes, sir. I need to get to Williamsburg.”

“We'll stop in Norfolk first. That's where the market for indentured servants is. Farther north, most are wanting slaves. They're tired of having to free their laborers.”

Surely the captain understood that her contract wasn't to be sold in Norfolk with all the others. Celeste tried to keep her voice calm. “And then the ship will continue on to Williamsburg?”

“Yes. We
have goods to deliver.”

“Oh, then that's perfect. My betrothed will purchase me there, along with my sister.” At least she hoped Jonathan would settle Berta's debt too.

“Are you certain? We've heard that story before.”

“It's the truth. I swear it.”

He shook his head. “I'm sorry, Miss Talbot, but I'm in this to make money.”

Celeste bristled. She understood that, but their situation was an exception. She squared her gaze on him. “My sister was kidnapped. Perhaps you've forgotten our conversation.” Over and over she'd imagined Berta being drugged and then carried on board and stashed on the far side of steerage. The kidnappers must have slipped away before anyone else boarded. Those in the bunks around Berta assumed she was sleeping, and by the time she came to it was too late to do anything about it.

“No. I remember it well.”

“My betrothed is a member of the King's army.”

“Yes, I remember your saying that too.”

Celeste couldn't match Captain Bancroft's calmness as hard as she tried. Shaking from hunger and exhaustion, she said, “Once we can prove Berta was abducted, Jonathan will press charges.”

“Against me?” He touched his chest with the flat of his hand. “On what grounds?”

“Buying stolen property.”

“I run a reputable business, I can assure you.” The captain shook his head, sadness settling on his face. “Can your sister identify the kidnappers?”

“They slipped a bag over her head before she could see them.”

“And she didn't recognize their voices? Or anything about them?”

“No.” Celeste grasped the railing. “They were strangers.”

“So it's her word against—” he frowned. “The contract.”

“Exactly. The contract will give it away. It will state who kidnapped her.”

He shrugged. “
If
they signed their names.”

Celeste shivered, realizing how naive she'd been all these weeks to think they could prove Berta had been forced aboard against her will simply by reading a piece of paper.

The captain leaned a little closer and whispered, “Was she in trouble with the law?”

“Of course not!”

“Is your family in debt? Would someone have arranged her sale and then chosen to make it look like a kidnapping?”

“No!” Celeste's voice had grown shrill again. No one in her family had known she was leaving or that Berta was going to follow her down to the docks. And neither Papa nor Emmanuel, the only two with any legal rights, would ever betray Berta—or anyone else—in that way. They were moral men. Their family was not in debt. And they
loved
Berta unconditionally, difficult as she could be at times.

Besides, there had already been too much loss in their lives, heart-wrenching separations for Papa and Maman from those they had been forced to leave behind—such as Uncle Jules and Maman's beloved Grand-Mère—when they fled France for England years ago. Celeste knew her father would never put himself or his wife through anything like that again, especially not involving one of their own children. The thought of any man doing such a thing to a loved one made her ill.

“Please forgive me, but I've seen more surprising things than that happen, believe me.” He frowned again. “We'll find out what the contract says once we dock.”

Celeste exhaled. “Thank you.” He did seem to be a fair man. Surely he would do the right thing. Still, she couldn't help but think that if their roles were reversed, her spirited sister would have done a better job presenting her case. He tipped his hat and continued on down the deck toward First Mate Hayes and the ship's wheel.

Celeste turned back toward the land. Yes, her sister could be annoying at times, but after weeks of infirmity, Celeste found herself missing Berta's mischievous and daring ways. If she were well, she wouldn't have allowed Celeste to worry so. She would have joked and laughed with the people around them. She would have seen the fun in the adventure of the crossing despite the miserable conditions.

Berta
had
to
get better. Celeste couldn't bear the thought of losing her only sister.

The sky turned a fiery orange with streaks of pink just above the trees, but Celeste couldn't enjoy the New World it illuminated. Tears stung her eyes again—and for more reasons than Berta's health. She had always been a good daughter. Helping in the inn. Caring for her brothers. Worshipping with her family in their church. Accepting George's pursuit of her. She'd done everything that had been expected of her.

Until she met Jonathan.

The colors streaming across the sky intensified as the sun dipped lower. She would try not to think about the consequences of her choice. She had never meant for Berta to follow her.

Celeste had always been so level headed. So compliant. So responsible. Berta, on the other hand, was the unpredictable one. Brave, yes, but impulsive. Reckless, even. Anyone who knew them would have thought Berta had been the cause of all this trouble. This time, however, the fault lay entirely with Celeste. The “responsible one” had been impulsive and reckless—and now here they were. Her only defense was love, a love so searing that it burned her heart like a brand.