The Color of Forever (11 page)

In the distance, a flash of light over the horizon caused my heart to beat a little faster, then a deep rumble of thunder had me dashing up the beach to return to the coach road. A few cold, hard raindrops struck my cheeks, and I wished I had not walked such a distance from home, for I was at least two miles from the shelter of our front door.

I barely made it up the path, beyond the dunes and sea grasses, before the clouds emptied their coffers, dumping buckets of cold hard rain on me. There was nothing I could do but surrender to the hostile conditions and accept that I would soon be drenched to the bone. I might as well have waded into the water and swam home.

o0o

After walking a mile in the heavy downpour, I began to shiver. My teeth chattered and my upswept hair hung heavy and limp. My shoes made squishing sounds with every step, and I tried to distract myself from the chill by rubbing my thumb over the ridges in the seashell in my pocket.

Soon, the distant sound of horses’ hooves and the rumble of an approaching vehicle caused me to turn. Sure enough, from around the bend, a shiny black brougham appeared with a team of two black horses and a well-dressed driver out front. He wore a black cloak and top hat, and held a long whip in one hand, the leather reins in the other.

I moved to the side of the road to allow the impressive vehicle to pass, and noted the shiny gold mountings, the green striped moldings and morocco trimmings at the back as it drove past.

Suddenly it pulled to a halt just ahead, causing a rush of unease in my belly, for I was alone in a remote location and could not be sure of my safety. I glanced into the woods to my right, half-tempted to dash into the trees and escape, but the foliage appeared thick and prickly, so I decided to take my chances with the inhabitants of the coach.

Chapter Twenty-two

The door flung open and a striking gentleman with wavy, black hair stepped out, top hat in hand. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties and wore a fine, charcoal-gray jacket with a high, stiff white shirt collar and crimson cravat. He wore no gloves, but settled the hat upon his head before he spoke.

“Are you all right, miss?” he asked. “May I be of some assistance?”

“I’m quite all right, thank you,” I replied with chattering teeth.

He stared at me a moment, his blue-eyed gaze traveling down the length of my body to the mud-stained hem of my peach-colored skirt, and back up to my soaked bodice, and the condition of my sopping hair, which had to be falling down in clumps around my face.

“You’re shivering,” he said, closing the door. “Please allow me to offer you shelter. I will take you where you need to go.”

I shook my head, rather frantically, for I was not in the habit of getting into coaches with strange men, however handsome and gentlemanly they appeared.

Who
was
he? He certainly didn’t look like any of the rough and weathered fishermen I’d seen about the village. I felt rather overcome.

“Please,” he said. “I give you my word that no harm will come to you. I only wish to help, and I cannot, in good conscience, leave you here on the road when the temperature is dropping.” He glanced up at the clouds. “I fear it’s not going to let up for a while.” He took a careful step forward. “Where do you live?”

When I stretched out my arm and pointed further down the road, I realized my hand was shaking uncontrollably. “That way.”

The man’s expression revealed that he would not take no for an answer. He strode toward me, removed his hat, and bowed slightly at the waist. “My name is Sebastian Fraser and I live here on the Cape, near the head light. Please, you must permit me to drive you somewhere.”

Feeling numb and shivery from head to foot, and dreading the thought of walking another mile in such blustery weather, I reluctantly agreed and allowed him to escort me to his coach.

My rescuer—it makes sense, now, to call him that—opened the door for me, and I peered in at the luxurious green, deeply buttoned upholstery and matching tasseled blinds on the windows.

Mr. Fraser handed me up into the cozy interior, where I sat down gratefully, arranged my skirts and brushed the dampness from my sleeves. He then swung himself inside, shut the door, took a seat beside me and reached into his pocket for a clean white handkerchief, which he kindly offered to me.

I used it to dab at my face and hair. “Thank you, Mr. Fraser. I am in your debt.”

“Do not be silly,” he replied, tapping the handle of his walking stick on the ceiling while regarding me steadily. The vehicle lurched forward and we were suddenly on our way. “But I would like to know your name and where I should instruct my driver to take you.”

“Of course. I do apologize. My name is Evangeline Hughes and I am new to the area. My father is George Hughes. We recently took up residence in the Vaughn Blackstone Cottage.”

“Ah yes,” he said. “I know the place. It’s not out of the way at all. I must inform my driver.” Mr. Fraser lowered the window glass and removed his hat before leaning out into the wind and rain. He shouted instructions while the wind blew a part in his thick black hair.

“What a spectacular day,” he said as he closed the window and sat back. “Tell me more, Miss Hughes. What brings you and your family to Cape Elizabeth?”

Clearing my throat, I endeavored to speak in a steady voice, which was no easy task when I was still shivering from the cold. “My father has retired from his position at a Boston bank, and he wished to live close to the sea. He’s a bit of a romantic that way. I think he’s always dreamed of being captain of a sailing ship and traveling around the world. As it happens, Mr. Blackstone is an old family friend, and he offered us his cottage while he is abroad, indefinitely.”

I refrained from mentioning that I’d overheard my parents discussing our financial situation late one night—that it was a charitable offering from Mr. Blackstone, for we were in dire straits and could not afford to pay our rent.

“Then please allow me to welcome you to Cape Elizabeth,” Mr. Fraser said. “I am sure you will be very happy here. It’s glorious in the summer months, but I must warn you—it can be bitter cold in the winter, when the ground freezes and the trees are coated in ice. You’d best have plenty of firewood on hand.”

My eyebrows lifted.

“I do beg your pardon.” He chuckled, and I couldn’t help but admire the dimples in his cheeks. “That was rather tactless of me. I’ve frightened you, haven’t I?”

“Not at all. We had ‘spectacular’ winters in Boston as well.”

He smiled. “Indeed.”

At this point, I would be remiss if I did not point out that my belly had exploded into a mad flock of nervous butterflies—which began the instant Mr. Fraser passed me the handkerchief and our fingertips touched briefly—for he was the most handsome man I had ever encountered in my young life.

To begin with, his eyes were a pale shade of blue, the likes of which I’d never imagined possible on any living human being. They brought to mind an aqua-marine gemstone with flecks of golden sunlight, beaming from within. His lips were full and moist, his mouth friendly, and his nose was perfectly proportioned. He had a strong jaw, bold cheekbones and a proud brow.

I, with my freckled complexion and burgundy hair, was positively mesmerized by his dark features and the deep timbre of his voice. He was like a hero out of a romantic legend, or a dream.

But of course, I thought he must be married or promised to someone. He was far too handsome to have escaped the clutches of some brilliant, ambitious young lady.

Like me?

“Miss Hughes, may I ask…?” He inclined his head slightly. “Were you named after Longfellow’s poem,
Evangeline
?”

“I was,” I replied matter-of-factly. “My mother is also a romantic, I profess. My parents are a perfect match. But I’ve always wondered why she chose to name me after such a tragic character. I hope I will not suffer a similar fate. I would prefer to live a happier life and not spend the whole of it searching for a lost love.”

Mr. Fraser tapped his finger on his knee and gazed out the window. “Yes, we should all be spared that.” Then he met my gaze again. “Did you know Longfellow spent time, during his younger years, at the Portland Head Light? I believe his poem
The Lighthouse
was inspired by his affection for the place. Do you know that poem?”

“Year after year,” I said, “through all the silent night, burns on forevermore that quenchless flame, shines on that inextinguishable light.”

He leaned forward slightly. “Forgive me. Of course, you would know it, considering you are named after Longfellow’s greatest epic work.”

I sighed. “It is both a blessing and a curse, for my mother was always reading his poems to me when I would have preferred to run down to the pond with the boys and catch frogs.”

Mr. Fraser laughed and sat back. “A noble pursuit for a young lady,” he replied with a charismatic smile that caused my heart to flutter anew.

I swallowed hard in an effort to calm my spirits. “And what about you, Mr. Fraser? Have you lived in Cape Elizabeth all your life?”

“I have,” he replied. “My father was a sea captain—as am I.”

I raised my fingers to my lips. “Good gracious. Have I already blundered? Should I be addressing you as
Captain
Fraser?”

“Probably,” he replied. “Although I rather enjoyed the sound of
Mr
. Fraser across your lips. I don’t know why.”

His words struck me like a lightning bolt. Feeling suddenly shy, I lowered my gaze.

“Now it is my turn to apologize,” he said. “That was rather uncouth of me. It must be the weather, knocking me off balance. Or perhaps it’s your charming company. It’s a delight to encounter a fresh face on the Cape. We don’t see many like yours. You’re quite lovely, Miss Hughes.”

I cupped my hands together on my lap, and felt rather daring all of a sudden. “And I suspect there are not many faces like yours either. But now I am flattering you, quite shamelessly. Enough of that. You were saying…about living in Cape Elizabeth all your life?”

His shoulders rose and fell with a deep intake of breath. “Yes. My parents built our home six years before I was born, and when they passed, they left it to me, as I was the eldest.”

“My condolences. When was that?”

“Almost ten years ago.”

I gazed out the window for a moment and realized I had stopped shivering. A warm glow had settled around my heart. “You have siblings?” I asked, turning my attention back to the captain. “How many?”

“Three sisters and a younger brother,” he replied. “My sisters reside in Portland, and my brother lives in London. He manages our British shipping interests.”

“You own ships?”

“Yes. Eight of them. All steamers.”

“How exciting. Do you see your sisters often?”

“I do. And that is, as you put it, both a blessing and a curse.”

I laughed out loud and relaxed back on the soft upholstery.

Just then, a fierce gust of wind shook the carriage, and raindrops, like tiny pebbles, pelted the glass.

“My poor driver,” Captain Fraser said. “Thank heavens he’s a tough old chap.”

“In that regard, thank you for insisting that I accept your kind offer of assistance,” I said. “I don’t know how I would have managed to make it back on my own. I shouldn’t have walked so far, but the weather was pleasant, at the time.”

“That’s the thing about Cape Elizabeth,” he said. “If you don’t like the weather, simply wait a few minutes.”

I laughed again. “Perhaps I shall meet your sisters… I am looking forward to getting to know this place. It has suddenly become more interesting than I first imagined it would be.”

Our gazes locked and held, and for a few seconds I felt transported, as if I were floating like that seagull on the wind—coasting on the air with natural ease and rapture.

In the very next instant, I felt giddy, wishing I could leap to my feet and dance a jig, right there in the coach.

Heaven help me. Was I already doomed to a mad infatuation, after only a few short minutes in this man’s company?

Get a hold of yourself, Evangeline. You know nothing about him. He could be a disreputable rake, or married
.

The carriage leaned to the side, and Captain Fraser peered out the foggy window. “I believe we have arrived,” he said. “Blackstone Cottage.”

Chapter Twenty-three

The carriage wheels bumped over the uneven drive, then we pulled to a slow halt.

“I will escort you inside and introduce myself,” he said, “for I must welcome your parents to the area.”

He swung the carriage door wide open, got out and offered his hand. I stepped down and we fought our way through the wind and rain. Seconds later, introductions were made in the entrance hall, Captain Fraser was apologizing for dripping on the carpet, and my mother responded with: “Please! No apologies are necessary, sir! Won’t you come in for tea? And please, allow my housekeeper to hang your coat to dry by the fire in the kitchen.”

My gallant rescuer accepted her invitation and joined my parents in the parlor while I hurried upstairs to change into something dry and tidy my hair.

A short while later—after the captain’s driver was sent around back to warm himself and take some tea in the kitchen—I returned to the parlor where Captain Fraser was engaging my parents in conversation about the area and places worth visiting. He stood up when I entered, and my heart fluttered as our eyes met.