Owned by the Ocean (21 page)

The Marshalls
lived in a beautiful, ornate townhouse in a rich area near the
port. As the carriage pulled to a stop outside their house, Brant
hopped out and helped Catherine down, offering his arm to her. She
ignored his offered arm, walking past him and up the stairs without
so much as a pause at the front door.

Brant watched
her in confusion, picked up the package of fabric she had left
sitting on the carriage bench, and paid the driver before following
her into the house. He looked around. It was a beautiful house. A
black maid, likely a slave, ran down the stairs and stopped in
shock. “Miss Catherine!” She turned around and ran back up the
stairs shouting out “Lord Marshall! Lady Marshall!” as she
went.

“
What is it? What is all this hollering for?” Catherine’s
father appeared at the top of the stairs looking angry.

She stopped
and pointed down the stairs at Catherine. Nothing more had to be
said, his anger was obviously forgotten as Lord Marshall’s face
melted into an expression of shock and joy and, Brant thought,
maybe a little disbelief. He slowly walked down the stairs,
clutching the handrail as if to hold himself upright in his
excitement.

“
Catherine? Is that you?” He reached out his hand and touched
her face as if to ingrain in his mind that she was in fact real and
not a figment of his imagination. “You’re really here? We heard
that your ship was attacked and that there was no sign of you. We
thought you were dead.”

Catherine
embraced her father. “I’m alive, father. Captain Foxton here
rescued me.”

Lord Marshall
reached out his hand to shake Brant’s but didn’t let go of
Catherine with his other.

A gasp emitted
from the top of the stairs and Catherine’s mother ran down, quite
unladylike, crying, and embraced her daughter. “You’re alive!
You’re alive!” she sobbed.

Lord Marshall
let his daughter go so that his wife could have her moment and
walked over to Brant. “We are forever in your debt, Captain Foxton.
If there is anything we can do for you—”

“
No, nothing. I was just doing my duty.”

“
Father, I promised him that we would pay him for my
passage.”

“
It’s really quite alright. I didn’t do it for the money,
sir.”

“
Nonsense, come with me. You must be paid if that is what you
were promised.”

Lord Marshall
led Brant down a hall and into his study where he opened up a safe
and counted out some money. “Does ninety pounds sound fair?”

Brant nodded.
“Yes sir. Thank you.”

“
I really don’t know how we can ever repay you. We were told
she was gone and had given up hope. You have returned what is most
precious to us.”

Brant nodded,
touched by the obvious love Lord and Lady Marshall had for their
daughter, and for a moment even a little jealous he had never had
that for himself. “Please, don’t trouble yourself. It was a
pleasure to aid a lady such as your daughter and it was nothing
beyond my duty as the King’s servant.”

“
And how long will you be in London?”

“
Not long. I hope to set sail within the week if we hope to
make it back to Jamaica before the summer storms become
bad.”

“
Then please, join us for dinner tonight. It is the least we
can do.”

“
I would be honoured,” replied Brant, eager for any excuse to
be near Catherine.

* * *

Brant didn’t
just spend dinner with the Marshalls. He ended up spending the rest
of the afternoon with them. He got to meet her younger brother,
John (or Johnny as he preferred to be known), who was between
boarding schools at the time. He was the same age as James but a
boatload of mischief and trouble; he reminded Brant a lot of
himself when he had been that age.

Catherine
ignored Brant for the most part. He brushed it off as her not
wanting anyone to know about their affair in the last few weeks at
sea but it troubled him slightly. Had it been too much to hope that
things wouldn’t change between them? She loved him, he was sure, as
much as he loved her, but it needed to be said. He would profess
his love before he left and leave it to her to make a decision. She
wouldn’t leave him, not after everything they had shared and after
everything she had said.

So, he was
charming with her mother and talked business and politics with her
father. No one asked what the purpose of his ship was and Brant
didn’t offer an explanation. They all just assumed he was a
merchant of some sort and they left it at that.

As dinner
approached Catherine excused herself to get cleaned up, requesting
time to take a much needed hot bath after months at sea. Brant and
Lord Marshall made their way into the study where they were served
whisky and had a drink before dinner was served. An hour later they
made their way to the dining room where they joined the women and
Johnny.

They were
served an incredible meal of turkey, potatoes, fresh vegetables,
wine, and fruit… everything anyone could want in a meal. Brant ate
until he was full and then he ate some more. It was all just so
good he couldn’t bear to let any of it go to waste. Catherine too
ate with a vigour that Brant had never seen in her.

Brant felt at
home with Catherine’s family. They were kind and gracious to him
and never seemed to look down on him or treat him with contempt.
After dinner Lord Marshall excused himself to his study while
Johnny went off on his own. Brant was left alone with Catherine and
her mother so he took that as his cue to leave, though he was
hesitant to go without having a word in private with Catherine.

“
I’m afraid I must take my leave. It is late and I still have
much to attend to.”

Lady Marshall
once again expressed her thanks and asked Catherine to see him to
the door.

“
Of course, mother.”

Brant stopped
in the front entrance and faced Catherine. “I can’t leave without
speaking with you. Is there somewhere we can talk… alone?”

Catherine
frowned. “Outside.” She stepped out to the front steps with Brant.
“What is it, Brant?”

“
I want to be with you, Catherine,” he spoke in earnest.
“These last few weeks with you have been incredible and I need you
in my life. I have a plantation in Jamaica that you could live
comfortably on. I’m not a poor man, Catherine.”

She shook her
head slowly and her eyes welled up with tears. “I can’t,
Brant.”

“
What do you mean you can’t?”

“
I can’t be with you. These last few weeks have been
wonderful, yes but they have also been a dream. We can’t live like
that. You and I are from two different worlds.”

“
We are not so different. I come from the same
world.”

“
But you chose to leave it. I told you that I could never
leave this life, I could never make the same decision you did.
Don’t ask this of me, Brant.”

His brow
furrowed and anger coursed through him. What had been all the talk
of two people being brought together meaning something? “You made
me believe you loved me, you made me fall in love with you. What
did you expect, Catherine? That I would just sail away out of your
life forever? It doesn’t work that way.”

“
I thought for a moment that I could believe in a fairy tale,
Brant,” she cried. “But you and I both know fairy tales aren’t real
and reality has to set in sooner or later. Today is
reality.”

“
Anything can happen if you want it bad enough. Marry me,
Catherine. Let me give you a life with me.”

“
No.”

“
You will still have all the money and luxury that you enjoy
now. Why is this such a terrible thing?”

“
Because I can’t love a man who will always put the ocean, his
ship, before me.”

“
I love you, Catherine.”

“
You love the sea more. I’ll marry you, Brant if you give up
sailing. Sell the
BlackFox
and give it all up to become a plantation owner.
If you do that then I’ll marry you.”

Brant looked
at her. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He would give
her the world, but she’d just asked of him the one thing he
couldn’t give up. “I can’t do that.”

“
Then I can’t marry you. I refuse to be second in your
life.”

“
You’d rather marry someone who doesn’t love you?”

“
I’ll marry someone who could give me a real marriage, not
someone who would rather be wed to the sea than me. Goodbye,
Brant.”

Catherine
turned on her heel and opened the door, pausing for just a moment
to let him see the tears streaming down her face in the soft
lantern light, then slammed the door in his face.

He shivered
and walked down the steps into the street. He hadn’t bothered to
fetch a carriage, there were plenty sitting along the side of the
road waiting to get a fare, but Brant chose to walk, the cool
evening wind helping him forget the pain that Catherine had just
inflicted on him. He hadn’t expected her to say no. He had thought
that perhaps she would take time to think about it, but he had
never imagined she would flat out say no and tell him to get out of
her life. He thought he had meant more than that to her. He had
seen love in her eyes and she had turned her back on it as easily
as choosing one dress over another. Society had once again turned
its back on Brant and he wasn’t sure if it was laughing at him for
being such a fool or if it pitied him for thinking he stood a
chance with a woman like Catherine.

Walking back on the
BlackFox
Brant locked himself in his cabin, not bothering
to respond to any of the crew that said hello as he walked past.
Looking around his cabin he could see remnants of her all around.
The book she had been reading was left on his desk. The clothes she
had been wearing for the last two months were folded neatly in a
corner and a hand written letter sat on the bed. He picked it up
and turned it over in his hand. It likely said everything she had
said to him on the steps but he sat down to read it
anyway.

“
Dearest Brant,

I hope you
understand that I never would want to hurt you but we cannot be. I
have loved these past few months we have spent together and never
has a man treated me with such respect, but our journey has reached
its end and I must leave you.

I made a
mistake, falling in love with you and I am deeply sorry for making
you return that love. I assure you that this is no easy decision
for me but I must continue my life here in London as Catherine
Marshall, daughter of Lord and Lady Marshall and a member of the
royal court. If I were to stay with you I would need you to give up
your life for me. I could not marry a man that would be away from
me ten months of the year and I love you too much to ask you to
give up your first love; the ocean. I beg of you to find it in your
heart to forgive me. Perhaps our lives will cross paths again.

Always
yours,

Catherine
Marshall.”

Brant read the
letter over and over in an attempt to understand, to allow it to
sink in that she had left him and she was not coming back. He had
heard it from her own mouth and now he had it in writing yet he
couldn’t quite believe that she would be so willing to give up.

* * *

Brant buried
himself in work for the next couple of days. He sold his cargo and
bought more supplies and now it was time to cast off and head home
for the summer. Matthew approached him as he was charting a course
with Casper.

“
Sir, I would like to stay aboard if that’s okay.”

Brant looked
up at the fifteen year old boy and smiled. “Of course. You will
work under Casper.”

“
Thank you, sir.”

“
Welcome to the crew, Matthew.”

Brant climbed
up to the crow’s nest to bid London goodbye as they sailed away. He
could imagine that Catherine was standing somewhere along the docks
waving her last goodbyes to him but he doubted it. She had already
said her goodbyes and now it was his turn to say his.

Watching
London disappear slowly he turned to face the open ocean. It was a
beautiful thing to see nothing but waves and blue sky ahead and not
really knowing what lay beyond the distant horizon. The ocean was a
mystery to Brant but it captured his imagination and held him
enthralled for eight years of his life.

Brant pulled
Catherine’s letter out of his pocket and read it over one last time
then let it go, flying in the wind until it landed somewhere among
the white tipped waves.

When London
was out of sight Brant climbed down and went to join the crew for
dinner. But the usual joy was missing from his demeanour and he
couldn’t find it in him to joke. Instead he ate in silence and
watched as men all around him laughed. They were happy with their
life and for the first time in seven years Brant was not. He
watched James and Matthew talk together like brothers and he smiled
slightly but still could find very little joy in the sight of his
brother finding a friend.

Brant left
dinner, his food only half eaten, and made his way into the hold
where he pulled out a dusty bottle of rum. Walking on deck he
uncorked it and took a long drink. The rum burned down his throat
and sat warmly in his core. It helped him forget the sight, sound,
smell and even taste of her, of his love. Taking another long swig
he sat down against the rail and cried. He cried for his mother,
his lost childhood, his father, his brother, for Catherine and for
himself. He cried for the lives that he had taken and he cried for
the families that would miss them. He cried because there was
nothing left to do but to let years of pent up sorrow free. He
heard footsteps and he quickly wiped the tears away and looked up
to see who would dare disturb his private moment of despair. Karl
sat down beside him and reached out his hand for the bottle.