Passion's Tide Page 3

  “None but a few are aware of that, my friend. And speaking of which, do you have the list with you or not? I’m sailing out in several hours and I need to get some rest, as charming as your company is.”

  “Don’t flatter me boy, I’m too old for that,” he said as he presented Logan with a rolled length of parchment.

  Logan unrolled it, quickly skimming the list of ships. “All of them?” he asked, raising his head and tucking the paper into his pocket.

  “Aye. Think you can manage it?”

  “Aye,” Logan echoed with a grin. Throwing down enough money to pay for his drink, he pushed back the bench and stood, heading towards the room he had rented for the night.

  “Logan?” He turned on the stairs. “I’ve got another message for you.” One corner of Logan’s mouth rose in a crooked smile.

  “The usual?”

  “Aye. Give no quarter.”

  The following morning Amber was roused from her slumber by her maid, Grace, who opened the curtains to reveal another sunny day. Amber blinked against the onslaught of light and groaned. She had been having a strange dream about fairies and princes, and now, as the harsh reality of her situation dawned on her, she longed to return to that magical world. If only finding a husband were as easy as sprinkling flower juice in his eyes and having him fall madly in love with her at first sight, she thought to herself as she slid out of bed. But for now she would have to go about it the old-fashioned way.

  She dressed in a simple gown of pale yellow silk, adorned with small blue flowers. Grace attempted to pin her hair up, but Amber soon grew restless and shoved a lace cap on top of the unruly curls. Not caring that she didn’t look entirely presentable she sailed out of the room, leaving Grace staring at her back in disbelief.

  Tying her lace apron about her waist, she ran down the stairs, colliding with the valet as she rounded the corner.

  “Oof…sorry Maxwell.”

  “That’s all right, Miss Townsend. How are you faring this morning?” he asked her, concern evident in his voice.

  “As well as can be, considering the circumstances.” She glanced around her and lowered her voice. “Maxwell, I must ask a favor.”

  He nodded. “Anything, Miss Townsend.”

  “I need you to go to the harbor and inquire about a ship leaving for England, and, if possible, book me passage.” If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. And as if understanding her haste he gave her a nod and turned, stopping at the front door to ring for a coach.

  Realizing that she could do nothing more until Maxwell returned, Amber decided to have something to eat. Coffee and scone in hand, she settled in the breakfast room with a book, but found her mind wandering. After reading the same line three times, she tossed the tome aside with a sigh and rang for a maid, voicing her wish to meet with Madam Lorelei.

  “And tell her I will pay her to make room in her schedule for me today.” The maid scurried off to complete her task, leaving Amber alone again. She did not have long to wait before Maxwell returned.

  “I’ve located two ships,” he told her, shaking the snow off of his coat. “One merchant vessel and the other a passenger ship. The merchant ship departs in four days, but the passenger ship does not leave for three weeks.”

  Amber sighed. “I cannot wait that long.”

  “I thought that might be the case, Miss. I’ve booked you safe passage on the merchant ship The Queen Charlotte. The Captain, despite his anxiety about having a woman aboard, has agreed to take you to England. I even persuaded him to allow you use of his quarters, so you should travel in relative comfort.”

  “Thank you Maxwell, you’ve been a great help.”

  “Miss Amber, I know it’s none of my business, but did something happen to inspire this urgent need to leave home? Did your mother say something to you before she passed away?”

  She was hesitant about divulging her problems to a member of the staff, but Maxwell had been with her family since they moved to Boston, and had proved his loyalty time and time again. She trusted him implicitly, and before she knew it she was describing the contents of her father’s will.

  “Ah, this explains the need to travel to Europe, but not the immediacy. Did the will say anything else?”

  “It also maintains that until I am wed to this baron or duke, I cannot hold control over my family’s estates.”

  Surprise registered on his face. “But I naturally assumed you would take over your mother’s role as head of the household.”

  “So did I.”

  “Well, then, who is in charge until you find a suitable husband? Surely not—”

  She dropped her head. “Control is in the hands of my guardian, who, since my mother’s death, is Neil.”

  “Oh lord, I was afraid you would say that. I must tell the maids to hide the silver. Has he done anything rash yet?”

  “No, I don’t think he knew the details of my father’s will. How could he, when my mother hid it for all these years?”

  A slow smile spread over his face. “Well, there really is no need for him to know yet, is there?”

  His meaning dawning on her, she returned his smile. “You can be quite devious when you put your mind to it, Maxwell.”

  “I picked up several tricks while watching you grow up. Now, I’m assuming you have a lot of packing to do?” She nodded. “I shall see that the trunks are brought up to your bedroom this afternoon. And if I’m not mistaken, that is Madam Lorelei’s carriage approaching.”

  Sure enough, Amber heard the sound of horses pulling up to the front of the house. Maxwell reached out to her and touched her arm. “Miss Amber, your mother was a wonderful woman, and all of us are saddened by her sudden passing. We know how close you were. If there’s anything at all we can do to help ease your loss, I implore you to please let us know.”

  Amber blinked back another set of tears and gave Maxwell a quick hug. Thanking him, she picked up her skirts and hurried into the parlor where she would greet her guest, attempting to fix her hair as she waited.

  She was shoving the last curl under her cap when the door opened and the maid ushered the tall middle-aged woman into the room. Amber directed her towards the sofa and smiled.

  “Madam Lorelei, I’m so glad you could meet with me today. I’m sure it must have been a hassle to rearrange all of your appointments, and for that I thank you.”

  “By the tone of your lovely maid’s voice, I assumed this was an emergency?” She raised her perfectly arched eyebrows in question, as if demanding to know why she had been forced to alter her schedule.

  “Yes, I’m afraid I’m in need of a new wardrobe. You see, my mother passed away yesterday morning, and I leave for England in four days, yet I have nothing suitable to wear,” Amber explained, hoping her voice contained enough pathos to elicit a response from Madam Lorelei. When she received none she tried a different tactic: “I knew you were the only person in all of Boston who was up to the challenge of creating a whole new wardrobe, fit for a London Season, in just four days. Nobody knows as much about European fashion as you do, and your skill is matched by no one.” Amber knew she was almost there because the older woman had lost her scowl, a small smile even playing at the corners of her lips. “And, as you can imagine, I’m willing to pay you handsomely for your trouble.”

  At last the dressmaker smiled and waved her hand dismissively, displaying a gaudy collection of rings on her fingers. “Let’s not bore ourselves by discussing the financial matters. Instead,” she inched closer to Amber and pulled out a sketchbook, “tell me what sorts of events you will be attending. Balls? Operas? Garden parties?” She paused in her drawing to look up, and laughed when she saw Amber’s blank face. “Don’t worry, you’ll leave with a whole set of gowns for each occasion. Now, I’ve been wanting to use this emerald satin that I just got in, and I have enough of that cobalt silk…” she trailed off, her hand a blur as she sketched out several designs.

  Madam Lorelei was in a good mood after determining Amber’s measurem
ents, leaving with enough money to make five gowns and have plenty left over. She also carried out with her several older dresses with designs to alter them to better suit the more modern styles.

  The day was far from over for Amber, however. After eating a small lunch she called for a carriage and headed into town, picking up silk stockings, petticoats, corsets, shifts, ribbons, shoes, and lace caps.

  It was dusk when she finally returned home with all her packages. Famished, she ate supper alone in the dining room, and then retired to the library. The smell of leather comforted her as she walked alongside the shelves, running her fingertips over the spines of her favorite books: the ones her mother had read to her growing up, the ones she had read herself when she was older, and the ones she had read to her mother as she lay in bed dying.

  Without looking, she pulled a book from the wall and headed over to the fire. Not even bothering to glance at the cover, she settled down and began reading. She was restless however. She had an odd sensation, as if something wasn’t right in the room. Slowly closing the book she got to her feet, looking around her for a possible explanation for her unease. And then she saw it.

  The empty space on the mantle, where, just yesterday, the silver candelabra had stood.

  Chapter Three

  “Miss Townsend? We are approaching the docks.”

  Amber hadn’t needed the announcement from the driver to alert her of their impending arrival. She had picked up the salty aroma of sea air several minutes ago and had been anxiously peering through the curtained windows since then, hoping to see signs of the ship that was to take her to England.

  The carriage rolled to a stop, and the driver jumped down to open Amber’s door and help her out. Shielding her eyes against the sun, she strained to locate the Queen Charlotte.

  “I think that’s it, right there,” the driver said, pointing a finger at a large vessel with three sets of wide, square sails. He began untying her trunks. “I believe they call it a squ—”

  “A square-rigger,” she cut him off, in awe as she stared up at the tall ship.

  “Yes, that’s right, but how on earth did you know that?” the driver, a lanky man who could barely be in his twenties, inquired. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is, ma’am.”

  Amber smiled at him. “It’s quite all right. My mother kept a very impressive library,” she told him, watching with a laugh as he pulled the final trunk to the ground with a heavy grunt. “Some of which I couldn’t bear to leave at home.”

  He wiped a hand across his brow and stared down at the trunk. “You mean to tell me you’ve got a bunch of books in there?”

  “It’s a long journey, and I must have something to occupy my time, mustn’t I?” He shook his head and began dragging the lightest of her three trunks down the pier, Amber hurrying at his heels. Though there was a constant, aching fear in her stomach, she momentarily forgot her troubles as anticipation overwhelmed her. All about her, men were running back and forth to the ship, loading it with supplies for the voyage. She watched as wooden crates packed with food, barrels filled with water and rum, even goats and chickens were hauled up and over the edge of the impressive ship. Gulls circled in the air above them, waiting for a crate to drop or be left behind.

  Standing on the gangway directing everything was the captain. A stout man in his early forties with cropped brown hair and a scruffy beard, he had a loud voice that carried over the docks. Hearing their approach he looked up, surprise registering on his face as he saw Amber. He regained his composure and smiled, taking her offered hand and kissing it. “This must be the beautiful Miss Townsend.”

  “Please, call me Amber.”

  “Amber, then. Well, the crew and I are all thrilled that you will be joining us on our journey. I am Captain Henry Watson, at your service.”

  “Watch out!” She jumped to the side as two burly men carried her second trunk past them and onto the ship, the poor driver lugging the third one behind him. Breathless, he reached them, letting it fall heavily.

  “Is there anything else you need, Miss Townsend?” he asked her, panting between words and inching backwards towards freedom.

  “No, that will be all, thank you. I’m sure the Captain can carry my last trunk for me,” she said, turning towards him.

  He cleared his throat. “But of course I can, Miss Town…Amber. If you would like to go ahead of me, I think we’ll be ready to set sail within the hour.” With a slight curtsy she turned and headed up the gangplank, aware that his eyes were following her.

  “How are you faring, Captain Watson?” she asked as she glanced over her shoulder. He tried to smile at her, but his teeth were clenched and the result was a half grimace, half grin that made Amber snicker behind her hand.

  “Light as a feather!” he wheezed, reaching the top of the ramp. He struggled to rest it squarely on the deck, a process that had him on his knees and leaning over, balancing the trunk with his other hand. He pulled himself to his feet and wiped his hands on his breeches. “If I may say, those must be some heavy dresses, Miss Townsend.”

  “Those aren’t dresses, Captain. Those are my books.”

  He looked down at the trunk he had just wrestled to the ground, then back at her. “Books?”

  “Yes, books. You know, Shakespeare, Plato, Homer, Aristotle? You can read, can’t you Captain?”

  “Of course I can, but—” he stopped as he noticed her teasing smile. “I think you are going to be a much needed breath of fresh air aboard this ship, Miss Townsend. How about I show you to your quarters?”

  She agreed, and he began looking around for a new victim to carry the trunks.

  All of a sudden, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she spun around. A tall, skinny man with stringy brown hair stood with his legs planted and his arms crossed on his chest, glaring at her. His eyes were so dark they almost looked black, and they bore into hers with surprising animosity. She jumped as she felt a hand on her shoulder, comforted only slightly as she realized it was just the Captain. He followed her gaze.

  “Ah, I see you’ve noticed my first mate, Lyle. His personality leaves something to be desired, but the men work harder under him than any other officer I’ve ever seen.” Amber didn’t doubt it, wincing as the Captain called out to the hostile looking man. “Lyle, don’t just stand there gaping. Either come say hello to Miss Townsend or make yourself useful.”

  Lyle blinked, as though taken off guard by the command, then pushed a strand of hair from his eyes and smiled, a cruel leer that made Amber want to bathe herself thoroughly, as if cleaning her skin would rid the feeling of being watched by such a malicious man. Instead, she repressed a shudder as he walked away and allowed the Captain to take her arm and lead her towards the stern of the ship. He stopped and opened a hatch on the floor, then turned and descended the narrow stairs. Amber climbed down after him, ignoring the hand that he offered, and looked around.

  “To your left is the doorway that leads to the orlop, which is where the men sleep and eat. If you go down a second flight you’ll find yourself in the hold, where we store everything.”

  “Where will you be sleeping?”

  “I will be sleeping in Lyle’s quarters for this voyage. Can’t say he’s too happy to be displaced, either. But here is where you will be staying,” he said, reaching past her to open a door. “This is my cabin, and I, uh, hope you find it comfortable. I know it’s not much,” he added, watching her face as she surveyed the small room, empty except for a small wooden bed, attached to the wall in one corner and single dresser. “But it’s cozy, and should provide you with some privacy. I’ve moved most of my things out, so that you may have room to spread out, if you so wish.” As if on cue, four of his men bustled past them and deposited her trunks on the floor with a loud thud, making Amber wince.

  She nodded to them as they left, noticing that none of them would meet her eyes. She turned to the Captain. “Have I done something wrong?”

  “Absolutely not, my dear,” he sa
id with unease. “It’s just that some of the crew are a bit superstitious. You see, it’s considered bad luck to have a woman on a ship.”

  Amber laughed. “Well, please assure your men that they won’t even know I’m here. I have my books, and I hardly need someone to entertain me, so I think it’s safe to say I will keep out of your men’s way.”

  He scratched his chin and gave her a smile. “I think you will be just fine. But if anyone bothers you, you just let me know and I will address the matter personally.”

  “Thank you, Captain, though I’m positive there won’t be any problems.”

  “I’m certain you’re right. We should be ready to set sail within forty minutes, would you like me to send someone down to get you?”

  “I can find my way, but thank you.” He nodded at her and left, closing the door behind him. Amber listened to his footsteps ascending the stairs, and then pulled her lightest trunk over to the high windows.

  Picking up her skirts she stepped onto it, standing on the balls of her feet to see the bustle of activity on the dock. There she stayed for a long time, until a rugged sailor, perched on rickety scaffolding, dropped down to wash the windows. With a shriek she stepped back and almost fell, regaining her balance just in time. The sailor looked just as surprised. With flushed cheeks he cleaned the glass with record speed, and then was gone.

  Amber decided to take a look around outside, and after rummaging in a trunk for a straw hat and a shawl, she opened the door and climbed the steps, emerging on a busy deck.

  Hearing her approach, the Captain turned in her direction. “Ah, just in time, Miss Towns—Amber. Did you get settled in?”

  Amber glanced at the sailor who had seen her through the window, who now blushed furiously and looked away. “Yes, thank you. Are we departing soon?”

  “Aye, right now. If you will just excuse me…” With a nod, he moved away from her and shouted to his men to raise anchor and set sail. Careful not to get in anyone’s way, she strolled towards the railing to watch the harbor slip away into the distance, taking with it the life she had grown accustomed to and bringing her closer to a new one.