Already His (The Caversham Chronicles - Book Two) (50 page)

“She’s beautiful, sweetheart. Almost as beautiful as you.”

Grandmother and aunt quietly left the room to spread the joyous news, leaving the proud parents alone with their newborn daughter.

“I don’t feel beautiful right now,” she said. “I feel very tired.”

“Take a nap. You deserve it. I’ll be here with you.”

E
xactly six weeks from the date of baby Charlotte’s birth, three couples gathered in the chapel at St. Paul’s, for the christening of three infants. And each of the three infant girls, had two sets of godparents. The minister gathered the six adults and their infants around the baptismal font, and read off the names of the children, and adults, asking for the godparents to respond with “I will” only after reading all the names because, he said, he only wanted to read through them once.

Thus it was that the little ladies Charlotte Simone Brightman, Isabel Agnese Halden, and Penelope Heather Fenwicke, became baptized into the Church of England.

In the first pew behind the attendees at the font, Lady Sarah Halden—the youngest sister of the Duke of Caversham—sat next to her grandmother playing with a doll she named Prudence. The child spoke, her loud whisper echoing through the cavernous cathedral. “Grandmama, I’m going to have lots of babies one day.” She set the doll on the seat between her and her grandmother. Turning a blue-eyed gaze up to Lady Sewell the child added, “But not until I have some adventures first.”

T
HE
E
ND

A
UTHOR’S
N
OTE

Putting our work “out there” makes most artists feel vulnerable in some way. But, for a few of us, there is nothing in the world we would rather be doing than creating stories that touch the heart, no matter the fear of scrutiny. I hope you enjoyed reading about Michael and Elise as much as I enjoyed writing their story. If you did, please leave a rating or review at the vendor where you purchased this book. Because I truly believe all constructive criticism helps writers better themselves at this craft we love so much.

L
OVING
S
ARAH

Sandy Raven

Coming, Summer 2013

Here is the first chapter preview of the third book in the Caversham Chronicles. In
Loving Sarah
, Lady Sarah Halden craves adventure and wants to see the world. And London’s just not satisfying this need in her. She wants to be a Grand Eccentric Spinster Aunt to her nieces and nephews, thinking she can have her adventures if she was officially ‘off the shelf.’

Sarah plans for her new life to begin at the start of the Atlantic Crossing Challenge. Which she intends to participate in with her brother-by-marriage, Lucky Gualtiero. Sarah meticulously plans her escape from home, and even arranges for a cabin boy to row her out to Lucky’s boat.

But the lad brought her to the wrong boat, and that’s where her new life begins.

C
HAPTER
O
NE

Liverpool, June 1835

“W
hat about her? She looks fast doesn’t she?”

“Hmmm...
Aurelia
,” Ian Alexander Ross, grandson of the Earl of Mackeever, mused as he strolled alongside his friend Lucky Gualtiero, brother of Lia, the Duchess of Caversham. “She may look fast, but she’s not built the way I like. Something about her shape... too curvy if you ask me. It looks like she might fall apart before the ordeal is over.”

“What about that one?
Evangeline
,” his tanned, olive-skinned friend asked.

Ian turned his gaze to where Lucky motioned. “Too top heavy, and her bottom’s too narrow to support her. She’ll tip over in a stiff wind.”

“What about that one?”

“Her bottom’s too broad. She’ll be too slow to tack.”

“Well, you can’t say the same about that one over there. She has a nice, well-proportioned hull. At least what I can see of it.”

He didn’t need to consider the vessel in question, for he knew her design well. He should, it was very similar to, if not exactly, a design of his father’s. “Yes. Nice curves, sturdily built, and I think I know her owner. If it is who I think, he has a load of money, but no skill at the wheel.” He gazed at
Ann McKim
longingly. “She was launched two years ago from the very yard my father helped found and has already broken records for fastest crossing times for the Atlantic and Pacific in both directions. But a ship like that could do far better with the right man at the wheel.” Sighing, he turned to Lucky. “What that lady needs is a man with a knowledgeable, soft hand and the experience to coax her on when she wants to give up.”

“So, do you think we stand a chance?” Lucky stopped and turned toward him.

Ian looked over the competition once more, and nodded. “Oh, I’d say the odds are very good. Next to McKim’s lady out there, we’ve definitely got the best boats in this race. A little smaller, a little aged, but well broken in. More importantly, both of them are lovingly maintained and handled.” They walked away from the dock and the preparations for the next day’s ceremony. “I believe everything is ready for the morning. God willing, we’ll have good wind.”

“The weather will hold until we’re well out,” Lucky said as he scanned the sky and horizon around them. Ian didn’t question him. He knew better. Like an old sailor, Lucky had an instinct for forecasting weather just by looking at the clouds. “Remember, my sister’s throwing us a dinner party to see us off. Be at the house around seven.”

“I’ll be there. You know I wouldn’t miss an opportunity for real food. Anything is better than the grub Mick throws into a kettle,” Ian said as they neared a waiting hackney.

“You need to find a better cook,” Lucky replied. “So you stop trying to take mine away.”

The driver tipped his hat and opened the door for the men. “You go on without me. I’m just going to get cleaned up, make sure the watch is in place, and I’ll be right behind you.”

“Fine.” Lucky gave a quick nod to the man holding the door, then asked Ian if he needed the address again. Ian shook his head, and asked the hackney driver to simply return for him after dropping off Lucky. “Then I’ll see you soon.”

The hackney door closed on his friend. After the driver cued the horse to move on, Ian turned back to the dinghy tied below, and rowed out to the
Revenge,
his best hope for victory in this race
.
Their supplies had been loaded earlier in the day, so he’d moved his boat away from the hustle and bustle of the dock. And any potential sabotage. Not that he suspected his fellow competitors of such underhanded behavior, but one could never be too careful when the stakes were this high. Tying off the dinghy, he climbed onto the deck and double-checked to make sure all was in readiness for the start of the race.

Normally, he wouldn’t have even considered wasting their time entering a race, but the twenty-five thousand pound purse was far too large to ignore. More importantly, if he and Lucky were serious about succeeding in their joint venture, the newly chartered British Tea Import Company, they needed more ships. Two retrofit Baltimore schooners, though a respectable beginning, wouldn’t turn the kind of profits necessary to expand their business in the manner they wanted. The one tea run they’d made last year left him with barely enough to live on after paying the note—a full half of what they’d borrowed—and their crews’ salaries. Lucky might not need the money as much as he did, but he’d be damned if he’d let his partner pay their way until they could turn a profit. Lucky had done enough already by paying the shipyard bill for the retrofit of the two boats over the past winter.

His dream, and Lucky’s too, was to have a fleet of at least a dozen clippers, preferably designed and built to their specifications. After carefully studying Colonel Beaufoy’s publication,
Nautical and Hydraulic Experiments
, where Beaufoy tested and found Newton’s hydraulics theory unlikely, Ian had begun drawing his own hull designs. In order to maximize hull space for valuable cargo, Ian’s idea was first to streamline the design of the hull; next to make her longer and deeper in the keel; then, thirdly, to eliminate the complete dependence on ballast and use lead plate on the keel in conjunction with minimal internal ballast for stabilization. He was excited and anxious to test his theory. If it worked, he knew it would forever change the way hulls were designed and built. And his father, wherever his soul rested, would be proud.

Having grown up with a naval architect for a father, a man who designed clipper hulls and constructed them, Ian knew that shipyards in New York and Baltimore were more willing to build experimental designs; whereas in Aberdeen and Halifax, they were more likely to insist the time-tested and proven designs they have been very successful building for the last twenty years were better. Ian knew his design held promise, and so did his partner. But, he would amuse Lucky and have the Aberdeen yards look at the designs, but Ian knew they would likely have to go back to America to have them built.

Ian made his way down to his small cabin, stopping to take a bucket of fresh water from the barrel near the companionway. He ladled some into the metal basin, set the bucket down near the washstand, then stripped. He dunked his head into the bowl and began washing. One day, he’d like to have a house with a proper bathing chamber. There would be no more tossing water out of the aft windows and refilling wash basins. No more bathing with cold water except when at sea. Worst of all were the times he had to bathe with salt water, because it always left him feeling sticky and itchy. For that reason, he understood why some of the crew went without baths during those times.

Life at sea wasn’t the romantic, adventurous dream he’d imagined. But, this had been his reality for the past three years since leaving university. He supposed he could have lived on credit and taken rooms somewhere, as did others in his financial situation. But Ian was too American for that, as Lucky reminded him on those rare occasions he complained out loud. He might be the nephew of the current Earl of Mackeever, but he was still the American-born son of a Baltimore naval architect who designed ships for the Americans in their war for independence. A fact not lost to most of his classmates. Except for Lucky, who was as much of an outsider because of his foreign title and swarthy appearance as he for his American blood at a time when most still remembered their deceased loved ones. In that atmosphere, he and Lucky had become fast friends; then immediately after university, business partners.

Now, at age twenty-five, Ian had the entire world before him.

And no place to call home except this ship.

Opening the cabinet, he remembered the cedar lining still needed replacing as he took out his good clothing. Repairs inside his cabin had been low in priority during the renovations, but now as he looked over his best trousers to make sure they weren’t moth-eaten or torn somewhere, he decided it needed to get moved up on the list. He checked the coat and linen shirt also for tiny holes, saw none and smiled. Lifting the only waistcoat he owned, he noticed the stitching at the edge of the wool where it met the satin was coming apart, but knew it would remain hidden by the coat if he kept it on.

If he ever planned to take his place in society, he would need to pay more attention to his dress. Ian owed it to his father’s sisters not to be an embarrassment when he did. Especially after all they’ve done for him over the years, from taking him in when his father sent him over for a formal education to sponsoring his entrée into society. Events like this dinner with Lucky’s family were sure to become more common as they became more successful. He had to get over the gnawing hatred of his two uncles, and think of tonight as an opportunity to polish his manners, and become more accustomed with the world he’d not been born to, but found himself in now. To do so would make those little old ladies proud.

L
ady Sarah Eileen Halden dropped her gaze as her brothers discussed the upcoming race, lest they see the delight in her eyes while her final plan started to form. The rented home in Liverpool the family had taken for the next several months was nowhere near as large or opulent as Caversham House or Haldenwood, but it had something that would serve her well this night, as she’d spied it right after arriving and looking over her temporary bedroom. She had a balcony, that was a mere ten or twelve feet above ground. Sarah could quite easily climb over the railing and ease herself down. The drop, after lowering herself as much as possible, wouldn’t be much more than the jump from her favorite tree at home.