Ransome's Honor (30 page)

I do hope your letter reaches my father. I fear none of mine have. I know our marriage will please him, but I still wish to have his blessing. Please let me know with all due haste if you receive word from him.

Yours faithfully,
Julia Witherington

He slipped the letter into the front cover of his Bible and exited the cabin. He joined Cochrane on the quarterdeck, where the first officer supervised the arrival of cargo.

“Ned, did Holt see you about the butcher and grocer estimates?” William leaned over the gunwale to watch the progress of the boat carrying the rest of his furniture.

“Aye, sir.” Cochrane yelled an order at a midshipman rigging the bosun’s chair. He nodded when the teen jumped-to, and then he returned his attention to William. “I ran into a young man on the docks earlier. Lad by the name of Charles Lott. Scrawny for fifteen, but seemed to know what he was about when I put questions to him.”

“You would recommend him for midshipman on
Alexandra
from one meeting?” William raised a brow. Ned was known for being a stern but fair taskmaster with the youngsters who were hoping to become officers.

Ned thought for a moment, watching the crew scurry about the deck. “Aye, sir. I believe he’ll be a good addition, either to
Alexandra
or to
Audacious.
”

“See to it then. I will also need you to acquaint yourself with the Witheringtons’ butler so when the time comes, you can arrange for Miss Witherington’s dunnage to be brought aboard.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Cochrane’s voice took on a teasing lilt.

William scowled at him and then turned his attention to the hired men in the boat below as they secured ropes around the pieces of the long table for his dining cabin-the table at which he would dine with Julia every day for the next two months. That thought brought a smile he couldn’t stop.

“Miss Witherington, welcome.” Fawkes threw the door open wide. “I believe you know how to find the parlor. Rheumatism.” He bent to tap his knee. “Now that young Dawling is gone, I must speak to Captain Yates about an apprentice.”

“Thank you, Fawkes.” Julia handed over her hat and gloves to the wizened butler.

Elton turned to go back to the carriage. Julia turned. “Elton, I hope you realize I intend you to stay here and wait for me. I do not know how long I will be.”

Delight beamed from his eyes. “Thank you, er, yes, Miss Witherington.”

Julia trotted upstairs, eager to see Susan, but stopped short when she arrived on the main level. Voices floated out of the parlor—Susan’s and another woman’s. She stopped, adjusted the mother-of-pearl combs in her hair, and was pleased she had changed into a gown fitting to be seen in company.

She stepped into the open doorway and knocked.

“Julia!” Susan leapt from her seat, flew across the room, and nearly knocked Julia over with the force of her embrace. “Lady Dalrymple just told me—we’ve been planning the breakfast, you see!” Susan grabbed Julia by the hand and dragged her into the room.

On the table between Susan and Lady Dalrymple lay several pieces of paper covered in Susan’s enthusiastic scrawl.

“How—”

“I am to blame, Miss Witherington.” Lady Dalrymple stood. “My nephew is sextant at Saint Thomas’s. He knew I wished to be alerted of your wedding date and came to see me this morning after Captain Ransome’s man left.”

“I can hardly stand it—Tuesday!” Susan gripped Julia’s arm. “Only four days from now.”

Laughing, Julia sank into a free chair at the table. “I cannot express my gratitude to the two of you for arranging the wedding. I have so much to do to prepare to leave—packing and readying my business affairs.”

“I shall come tomorrow and help you.” Susan alighted on the edge of her seat and nearly vibrated with excitement.

“Does Lady Pembroke know of the date?” Lady Dalrymple asked. The distaste in her voice startled Julia.

“Yes, I told her before I came here.”

Lady Dalrymple beamed. “Good. I shall call on her and see how she is bearing it.” The dowager viscountess pressed her hand to Julia’s cheek. “You have no idea how much your presence in Portsmouth has delighted me these past months, my dear. Nor how I detest being taken in by the likes of that Sir Drake Pembroke. To think I believed him a gentleman deserving of your affection and Captain Ransome not worthy of your attention. How wrong I was. But all is as it should be now, and I could not be more pleased.”

Susan walked Lady Dalrymple out and then returned. “Come, Julia, let us move across the hall, where we may be more comfortable.” She took up the scattered pages and stacked them neatly. “What a charming woman Lady Dalrymple is. I never realized how delightful she could be until she called on me earlier in the week to say she wanted your wedding breakfast to be at her home.”

“Nor did I.”

“My dressmaker told me this morning—she was here to let out the waists in a few frocks—that your gown for the wedding is nearly finished. I shall send word for her to come tomorrow to fit it to you.”

“Susan, what shall I do when I leave Portsmouth and no longer have someone to plan my days for me?” Julia teased.

Tears pooled in Susan’s eyes. “Oh, don’t say that! I cannot bear to think of your leaving so soon.”

Contrite, Julia sat beside her friend on the sofa. “Now, Susan. What was it you read to me the other day? ‘True friends of the heart can never be parted no matter how much distance separates them.’”

Dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief, Susan nodded. “Do not mind my outburst. Tears come whether I will or not these days. Besides, Collin says that after the baby comes and is strong enough, we will go to Jamaica to visit you. And perhaps by then,” Susan’s smiled through her tears, “you will have a child of your own.”

Julia blanched, all of her misgivings and confusion over the nature of her marriage to William returning. She forced a smile. “We shall see what God wills.”

Chapter Thirty

C
reighton knocked on Julia��s door. “A Mr. Kennedy to see you, miss.”

She tossed the armful of dresses onto her bed. “How did he arrive, Creighton?”

“Hack cab.” His expression grew grave at the sight of the open trunk on Julia’s floor.

She patted his arm as she passed him. “Father will return before too long. Of course, I could ask Captain Ransome if he knows of anyone looking for a steward.”

Interest kindled in his eyes, then faded. “Thank you, miss, but I cannot leave the admiral.”

This morning’s midshipman appeared somewhat younger than yesterday’s, with dark hair and eyes, and a short, stocky build. He knuckled his forehead and handed William’s note to Julia with a toothy grin.

She couldn’t help but smile back. “Go with Creighton for some refreshment. My response will be ready shortly.”

“Thank you, miss.” Kennedy knuckled his forehead again and disappeared behind Creighton.

Julia opened the missive as she ambled to her father’s study.

13 August 1814

HMS
Alexandra

My dear Miss Witherington,

As promised, here is my midshipman to bring word of your continued safety and happiness. The mids now consider this to be the highest of duties, once they heard of your cook’s shortbread from Gibson.

Today will be a busy day as we sign on our crew and marines. I shall conduct Sunday services aboard
Alexandra
tomorrow, so I will not see you before Tuesday. I remain,

Yours faithfully,
Wm. Ransome

She wrote a quick reply and took it to the kitchen. Kennedy proved more open and talkative than Gibson and even had Creighton laughing over his stories of his and his fellow midshipmen’s antics on their last voyage.

No sooner had Kennedy departed than Susan arrived as promised to spend the morning helping Julia pack—or at least get a good start on it in preparation for leaving in a fortnight.

Susan insisted Julia take all her gowns back to Jamaica. “Do you want the people thinking the wife of Captain William Ransome does not dress befitting her husband’s wealth and rank?”

Julia acquiesced, though worried about the amount of luggage—the large trunk, which had fit all of her gowns and personal possessions on the voyage to England, would be needed along with a smaller chest and two valises. Additionally, she had enough books to fill at least one crate, and she really would like to take her banana-wood desk and chair back with her.

At two o’clock, they left to go back to Susan’s house to meet the dressmaker. The lavender silk gown was rather plainer than Julia had expected. But perhaps simplicity was better.

She turned when she saw Susan assist the dressmaker lift something out of the box—something white.

“You did not think, did you, that after the fuss I made over finding just the right color silk, I would allow you to marry in such a plain style? Close your eyes. I do not want you to see this until it is on you.”

Julia did as bade, moving her arms and head when instructed.

When they finished pushing and prodding her, silence descended.

“Susan?”

“Yes—I do apologize.”

Hands on Julia’s shoulders turned her around.

“Open your eyes.”

Standing facing the full-length mirror, Julia lost the capacity to breathe—the overdress was made completely of ivory lace, hand netted with thread fine as spiders’ silk, revealing a few inches of the lavender silk at the hem in the front and cascading into a train behind. A dark purple velvet ribbon wove through the lace at the ribband and at the neck, where it gathered into a narrow ruff at the base of Julia’s throat. The long sleeves also revealed the silk at her wrists.

Tears burned her eyes. “Susan, where did the lace come from?”

“It was my mother’s—from the gown she married in. You are taller than she, but as the skirts were so much wider thirty years ago, there was plenty.”

“Oh, I cannot—Susan, no—”

“Hush. My aunt wanted me to have everything new when Collin and I got married. In fact, I had forgotten until recently I had this in the bottom of my keepsake trunk. I can think of no better use than to make my dearest friend the most beautiful bride Britain has ever seen.” Susan frowned slightly. “But tell me—do you like it?”

Julia cleared her throat. “It is the most exquisite garment I have ever laid eyes upon.” She met Susan’s gaze in the mirror.

Susan beamed. “You shall wear your hair down. William cannot keep his eyes off you when it is loose.” She handed Julia a flimsy pack age wrapped in paper.

Julia untied the twine and unfolded the paper to reveal more of the lace.

“Rather than your wearing your veil from a bonnet, we shall make a wreath of white roses and lilac from my garden for your hair.”

They argued about whether she would wear her hair up or down, wear a bonnet or a wreath of flowers, while the dressmaker nipped and pinned a few places to make alterations. After the woman left and Julia was back in her day dress, she and Susan collapsed into the twin chairs that flanked the fireplace.

“I shall hold this dress in trust, Susan.” Julia promised. “Should you have a daughter, I will return it to you to be made over for her—in whatever the style is when she is old enough to marry.”

Susan’s hands rested on her slightly thickened waist. “Collin says he does not care if the child is a boy or girl, but I know he wants a son because we cannot depend upon having any other children, if indeed we do have this one.”

“We will have none of that talk, if you please.” Julia hit Susan’s knee with an embroidered pillow. “You must be confident; you must have faith in God’s blessing.”

“You are so good for me, Julia.” She glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Oh, look at the time. I told Mrs. Ransome we would join them for tea at four o’clock.”

Over tea, Mrs. Ransome acquiesced to Susan’s and Charlotte’s cajoling to tell stories of William as a child. Listening to his mother speak of him with such love evident in her voice, Julia sank into melancholy, thinking of her own childhood and how sad her mother had always been, waiting for a letter or a visit from her husband.

“Julia, are you quite all right?” Mrs. Ransome asked, interrupting her own story.

Overwrought from the day’s extreme of emotions, Julia surprised herself and the other three women in the room by bursting into tears. She fumbled with her sleeve for a handkerchief before remembering she’d left it on the dressing table in Susan’s room.

Mrs. Ransome moved to sit beside Julia on the settee and offered her own handkerchief

“I am...sorry...your story. I was just thinking...my mother—” A fresh wave of sobs overwhelmed her, and she could not continue.

Mrs. Ransome pulled Julia into her arms. “There now, child. It is hard to lose one’s mother at such a young age. Susan has told me how dear she was to you. Though I could never assume to take her place, I hope you will allow me to consider you a daughter of my heart—and that you will look on me as your mother.”

Grief welled up and threatened to drown her. “I was such a disappointment. She wanted me to be a lady, to keep out of the business of the plantation. She wanted to see me married, to see her grandchildren...”

“Oh, my darling girl, do not let regrets hover as a cloud over you. I am certain your mother was very proud of you and all your accomplishments.” Mrs. Ransome took the handkerchief back and wiped Julia’s cheeks. “Come, now. No more tears. You will soon learn the Ransome family is one of happiness and joy. You will be sister to Charlotte and James and Philip; they will not allow you to know anything but happiness in our family. And, of course, there is dear William.” She dropped her voice to a whisper hardly audible to even Julia. “You respect each other now, but I pray the two of you will soon find love and real happiness with each other.”

She should not have been surprised that William told his mother the whole story of their engagement, but she was surprised that though Mrs. Ransome knew the truth, William’s mother still treated her like a beloved daughter.

Charlotte came to kneel in front of her and took Julia’s free hand in hers. “I have already told you how much I have always longed for a sister. And I know Mama prayed for many years for more than one daughter. You are the answer to that prayer, Julia.”

Through the tears still blurring her vision, Julia regarded William’s sister. The young woman sat here and listened to her mother call another woman “daughter,” watched her hold and comfort another woman. And yet rather than jealousy, Charlotte joined wholeheartedly into the sentiment, happy to see her mother loving someone else.

Had William felt as Julia did now when her father took him under his care, treating him as a son? If Michael had lived, he would never have been jealous over sharing his father’s affection with someone else. He would have been like Charlotte—would have seen William as an adopted brother, someone to bring more love and joy to his own life.

Oh, how she desired to see her rather—to be able to apologize to him. To say she finally understood him, the man whose affections she’d chased her entire life. The man she might not see again for a very, very long time.

“Thank you, Mr. Kennedy. That will be all.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” The teen saluted and exited the cabin.

William shrugged out of his coat and carried Julia’s note to the leather-covered seat under the stern windows. Leaning his shoulder against the frame of the open window, he slid his thumb under the
TD
-imprinted wax seal and unfolded the parchment.

My dear Captain Ransome,

All is well. Susan is to call this morning to help me begin to pack so I shall be prepared for removal from England. Then we shall return to her home to meet with her dressmaker. I look forward to seeing your mother and sister while I am there.

Naturally, I am disappointed I will not see you tomorrow at church, but as Lord Nelson so aptly said, “England expects that every man will do his duty.”

Yours faithfully,
Julia

William tucked the note into the front of his Bible. He was marrying a woman who could not only quote Lord Nelson but who understood the importance and the honor of doing one’s duty even when it called for sacrifices at home. God could not have blessed him with a more suitable wife; he would endeavor to do everything in his power to see to his duty of being a good husband as well.

Cochrane returned to the ship shortly after midnight with the last boatload of sailors. William dismissed them to hang their hammocks and get a few hours’ sleep.

“Mr. Cochrane, the crew is to be piped up, hammocks stowed by seven bells in the morning watch as usual. No duties assigned before that time. At eight bells, they are to be assembled on the quarterdeck for Sunday prayers.”

Cochrane, with dark circles under his eyes, black neckcloth askew, nodded. “Aye, sir.”

William longed to rub the gritty exhaustion from his own eyes. “Who is officer of the watch now?”

“Blakeley, sir.”

“He and his watch are to be on light duty tomorrow, as they have worked all day alongside everyone else with no respite.”

“Aye, sir.”

“How many sailors returned?”

“Five hundred fifty.”

“And the marine contingent? Was Sergeant Ryken reassigned to us?”

“Yes, sir. He has already filled out his number to the required one hundred twenty-five and signed them on in good order.”

“And the missing midshipmen—none of them came today?”

Cochrane shook his head wearily. “No, sir.”

“So we need four mids and sixty-four sailors. Monday, we shall put a notice up at the port Admiralty, and the end of next week, we will fulfill our capacity.”

“Aye, sir.”

“And Dr. Wells?”

“No, sir. Though he did send word. He has returned to Yorkshire and taken up his practice there. He has, however, recommended a Dr. Hawthorne to us.” Cochrane fished a letter from his pocket.

“Please see to contacting Dr. Hawthorne. Have him come Monday morning at eleven.”

“Aye, sir.”

“I believe everything else can wait until tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

Cochrane saluted and exited the cabin. William started peeling layers of his uniform off as soon as his first lieutenant’s back turned. Dawling entered before the door could latch. The burly seaman bustled around the room, taking clothing as William removed it, straightening up, and dousing the lamps.

After dismissing Dawling and climbing into his old hammock, William lay awake, picturing himself telling the crew of his impending marriage and of Julia’s presence on board. Though the officers had borne it well, the crew might not be so understanding. Most believed in the long-held superstitions that had once ruled the seas. Their belief that women brought bad luck to a ship and its crew could create any number of problems—from disorderly conduct to mutiny.

Staring at the oaken boards above him, he mentally rehearsed the words he would give to the crew after prayers in the morning. But his mind strayed into vivid imaginings of the sailors’ reactions to the news.