Breakwater Beach (17 page)

Hattie didn’t return, and Elisabeth went downstairs. Dusk was falling, and there were no lamps lit or fires burning. It seemed wrong to leave Wilhemina alone until strange men came to take her for burial.

Nausea swept over her again. She ran out the front door, to the barn, and opened the door to get Ruddy. The smell of manure overcame her, and she vomited into an empty feed pail.

Ruddy clopped up the path, and Paul came out to meet them. “Problem, Elisabeth?” He took the reins and helped her dismount.

“Mrs. Howell is dead. The babe is with a neighbour.” Her legs wobbled like rubber.

“God bless the poor baby, and poor Missus Howell.” Paul assisted her up the stairs.

Sara met her on the porch and led her inside. “Look at your clothes, Elisabeth.”

Katherine took her cloak and cringed.

Elisabeth hadn’t even noticed the stains. “I have never seen so much blood. It’s odd leaving Mrs. Howell alone until they come tomorrow. I should have stayed there with her.” She swayed.

Sara embraced her. “You’ve been through quite enough. Staying there won’t help her now.”

“I’ll go with you, if you’d like,” Katherine said. “I’m not afraid.”

Relief that someone else understood comforted her more than the promise of a warm tub. “I would like that. While I get changed, could you ask Paul to harness one of the geldings to the small carriage? We’ll go with the body directly to the church tomorrow. I forgot the bag with the provisions there, so we’ll have some food.”

“I’ll go tell Paul to ready the carriage.” Katherine seemed very anxious to get away. The dismal weather and perpetual bad news was getting to everyone, including the sisters.

“Let me go up to run a bath for you and pack some things. Sara helped Elisabeth upstairs and helped her out of the soiled garments. “This is a bit harder than you imagined, is it not?”

Elisabeth immersed herself and tried to scrub away the smell that seemed to have penetrated every pore, every hair. “I never expected to be without my husband for so long. I could bear anything if he was here.”

“Perhaps we shouldn’t have come,” Sara said.

Perhaps Sara is right
. “Things will be different when Edward comes home. I’ll simply tell him he can’t go away for so long again.” Enduring the maid’s sullen stare, and the portent of her words, was too much to bear. “I’ll be fine on my own. You can get back to what you were doing downstairs.”

“Very well.” Sara left.

The water grew chilly, spurring her out of the tub. Elisabeth toweled off and sprinkled on scented powder to banish the persistent bloody stench.

By the time she was dressed and went downstairs, Katherine had already brought the overnight bag for the two of them to the carriage. Paul bundled them inside and drove the rutted roads to the Howell’s. Elisabeth stared at the house and its forbidding contents.

“I’ll stay with you,” Paul said.

Neither of them offered any argument. He settled the horse in the barn. Katherine brought in their things.

Elisabeth went upstairs and peered into the bedroom. In the dark, she could see the outline of the body in the bed, but none of the features. “I just wanted you to know you’re not alone, Wilhemina. And the babe is fine.” Her stomach lurched once again at the still mound and cloying, deathly silence.

Chapter 18

March 1876

Elisabeth finished her lesson with the children at the library and packed away her things.

Paul bounded in the door and to her side. “
The Sea Mist
just sailed into the harbour. They’ll wait for the tide to rise, but I came to fetch you.”

The librarian glared at them. “Quiet, please, my dear sir.”

“Are you sure it’s them?” Elisabeth whispered as she grabbed her cape and tossed it over her shoulders. “Let’s go.” Her entire body trembled, with excitement, or was it fear? All the bad news to share would mar what should have been a joyous reunion.

“I recognize the ship. I heard the foghorns and went up on the widow’s walk. Careful, it’s slippery.” Paul helped her down the icy stairs.

Grey clouds spit an occasional snowflake. Elisabeth draped the blanket over her legs in the carriage, but when she saw Paul without one, she handed it to him.

“You need this more than I do. Please stop near the Vauxhall farm. I need to fetch Bethea.” How would Kyle react? How would Edward handle the terrible news?

The horses picked their way along the icy road. Smoke rose from the stone chimney like a signal guiding the way. From a distance, Elisabeth saw Clement limp to retrieve some wood and go back inside. She jumped down, tromped through the partially frozen mud, and scraped her boots before she knocked.

Addie answered the door. “Why, Elisabeth, good day. Bring Paul inside. Would you care for some tea?’

“No, thank you.
The Sea Mist
has returned. I wanted Bethea to know.”

“It will be good for all of us to have Kyle back.” Addie put more wood on the fire, then went into Bethea’s room.

The small farmhouse was far from luxurious, and the combination of the grey day and grief made the room seem even smaller. Being there made her relive the horror of seeing Caleb’s tiny body under a burial shroud. She had sat with her friend for long days and nights since, trying to get her to eat.

“Elisabeth.” Her friend came out, pale, gaunt, clutching a shawl around her shoulders.

“Bethea,” Elisabeth said.

“I heard.”

“I promised to help you tell Kyle. Would you like to come with me? Paul is outside with the carriage.” There had been nothing but misery and dread for two months.

“I can’t face him. How can I explain?” Tears leaked down Bethea’s cheeks.

“I’ll be there with you.” Elisabeth dabbed her friend’s face with a hankie.

Bethea took her cape off a hook near the door. Even after they ventured out into the daylight, the icy wind bore memories of both Caleb and Wilhemina’s deaths and cast a dark shroud over what should be a joyous homecoming. Elisabeth didn’t know Kyle well enough to know how he would react, and Bethea needed nothing less than total and unconditional love to heal.

Paul helped the weakened woman into the carriage and tucked the blanket around her. She leaned on Elisabeth, and they set off for Breakwater Beach.

Bethea insisted on waiting outside the carriage. Elisabeth and Paul supported her on each side while she swayed like a cattail in the cold wind. It seemed to take hours for the water to rise, though on summer days its rapid advance had stranded Elisabeth more than once. Her heart pounded with mixed anticipation and dread—certainly not the joy and relief she had expected to feel. Finally, the boats were lowered and loaded.

Edward’s dory reached shore first. He scrambled out, ran to Elisabeth, and stopped when he saw the grim trio. After a peck on her cheek, and a quick handshake for Paul, he reached for Bethea’s hand and held it. “What’s wrong?”

Elisabeth looked at her friend who said nothing. Her chest tightened, and her head ached.

Kyle climbed out of his boat and ran toward them. “Bethea, are you ill? You’ve lost so much weight.”

“Caleb’s dead. Two months, fever.” Bethea’s voice was barely audible.

Kyle grabbed his wife and held her close. His grasp was so desperate, Elisabeth feared he’d crush Bethea’s fragile bones. Edward put his hand on Kyle’s trembling shoulder.

“I’m so sorry.” Edward lowered his eyes, shocked, visibly shaken.

Elisabeth’s words came out so bitter they hurt her tongue. “We need to get her out of the wind and cold. She’s very frail.” She placed a gloved hand on Kyle’s trembling shoulder and tried to mellow her voice. “The doctor did all he could. We tried everything.”

Kyle swept Bethea up and trundled her to the carriage. Elisabeth bundled her in blankets as Kyle got in next to her. They cried in each other’s arms. Edward wordlessly loaded their things next to Elisabeth. His seat was full of bags so he joined Paul. Elisabeth wished she could have ridden outside, for her own relief as well as to give the Vauxhalls some privacy. The clopping of hooves and rattle of harnesses, occasionally punctured by a desperate sob, were the only sounds.

On their way home, Edward joined Elisabeth inside the carriage. “That wasn’t the sort of welcome any of us expected.” He picked up her hand and tried to make eye contact.

She stared straight ahead and tried to contain her anger but it boiled over at Edward’s insensitivity. “I tried to reach you through Mr. Somersell. He assured me he would cable that the boy was ill. I see he didn’t keep his word.”

“I didn’t receive anything. I’m sorry. It must have been horrible.” Edward bent forward and looked into Elisabeth’s eyes.

“Bethea is inconsolable. I’m worried about her, but now that Kyle is back perhaps she’ll recover somewhat. Wilhemina Howell died giving birth. Her husband still doesn’t know, and his daughter is being nursed by a neighbor.”

The carriage bumped and clattered up the hill. Edward smiled as the house came into view. “It’s so good to be home.” He helped Elisabeth down.

Paul led the horses to the barn.

Sara opened the door. “Welcome home! Leave your things there, Captain. We’ll go through and launder them, if the sun ever comes out.”

Her voice was too lilting and grated on Elisabeth’s already shredded nerves.

“Please tell me there is some good news.” Edward dumped his bags on the porch and went inside.

Sara continued to chatter. “Katherine and Paul are betrothed. And Mr. Sanders has been making sure we have enough wood and provisions.” She quieted when she saw Elisabeth’s sullen face.

Edward warmed his hands by a fire in the parlour.

Katherine peeped into the room. “I’ll get tea together.”

“And I need to start dinner. Something special you’d like, Captain?” Sara asked.

“Anything at all,” he answered.

A log collapsed into ash and a flurry of sparks flew up. Elisabeth nestled against Edward and rested her head on his shoulder.

“So I suppose you are happy to see me.” He kissed her forehead.

“Of course I am.” She was empty of emotion, unable to feel anything, which was better than persistent fear of impending doom.

“You’re not acting like it.”

Did he still not understand?

“Will you have tea here, Captain?” Katherine brought in a tray.

“Congratulations, wonderful news about you and Paul. I’d like tea in my room, a hot bath, and to rest in a warm bed.” Edward rose and stretched.

“Very good, Captain. I’ll bring it up, stoke the fire, and run the bath.”

“That’s not necessary. I’ll go up with him and take care of everything.” Elisabeth snatched the tray from her so roughly that water spilled from the spout.

“Of course.” Katherine’s cheeks flushed, and she crept from the room.

“You scared her,” Edward said.

Elisabeth paused on her way upstairs. “She’ll soon be married and must understand a wife’s desire to be with her husband. Alone.”

Edward tossed a log on the fire and poured their tea. Elisabeth ran the bath for him, changed into her nightclothes, and turned down the covers. She warmed herself by the fire, until Edward joined her. The sight of his damp, rippling muscles, even more defined after months of heavy work, conjured a momentary spark of desire, which was quickly extinguished by guilt. Caleb and Wilhemina were dead. The Vauxhalls were suffering.

“Now, I’m fit to be next to you.” He took her into his arms.

Elisabeth pulled away. “You can’t leave me here alone again, Edward.”

“Let’s not discuss it now. It’s time for a reunion befitting a couple after a seven-month absence.” He let his hands do the rest of the talking.

Elisabeth let him lead her to the bed. She forced the sadness from her mind. Her husband was home, and she should be grateful for that. They would talk about it, but now was not the time. She lay down, distinctly uncomfortable under Edward’s hungry stare. Watching him lower his trousers made her feel like a scared virgin all over again.

He stretched out next to her. “Come to me, Elisabeth. I’ve been dreaming about this moment for months.”

She turned toward him, but the touch of his hands tracing her back and bottom, though gentle, hurt her cold, stiff muscles. His beard scraped her cheek. Elisabeth closed her eyes and hid her face against his neck. Oblivious to, or not caring about her discomfort, he rolled her onto her back, pushed up the nightgown, and sprawled on top of her. Each gasp as he fondled her breasts and private parts was more from shock than pleasure.

Too excited for patience and small talk, Edward entered her. But she couldn’t allow him into her heart or mind, wishing instead it would soon be over. It was, and he rolled to his side, rested his head in the crook of her arm, and dozed. She tousled his hair, needing his comfort, but there was none. Had he become accustomed to indulging in similar impersonal interludes over the last few months?

“Next time, I’m going with you.” Elisabeth strode into the bedroom.

Edward had hoped after a few days things would settle down, but she remained sullen and withdrawn. She turned her back and stared out the bay window.

“Elisabeth, being at sea for that amount of time would be most difficult for you.”

“And it’s not difficult burying babies, and holding women’s hands in labour, watching them die? I teach the children and sometimes they never return for lessons, like Caleb. I go to services, sit in our pew, and hate God for taking innocent lives. And then wonder if I’ve offended him enough that tragedy will visit me as well.

“I live in this huge, empty house with all its luxuries, thinking of the others, cold and hungry. My womb bleeds every month, and reminds me I’m likely barren and have an absent husband in love with the sea!”

Edward had never seen her clench her fists or raise her voice in such a manner. He put his hands on her shoulders to stop the pacing. “Do you want to go back to London then? To your family?” Immediately sorry he’d allowed his frustration to spout like a frightened whale, Edward held his emotions in check. She’d been miserable and unsettled since her arrival. Things had not improved during his absence, and no matter what he’d done she hadn’t responded.

Her now familiar icy glare bored into him, stabbing deeper with every syllable. “I left that life behind when I came here, Edward. And I’d not be welcomed back.”

“Elisabeth, you knew what I was when you married me.” A sliver of hope prevented him from reminding her how she’d refused to heed his warnings and ignored his misgivings.

“I don’t understand why I can’t go with you. Plenty of other captains take their wives and even their children along.” She braced her hands against his shoulders and pushed him away.

Edward held on to her wrists. He had to remove the romantic notion of a seafaring wife from her mind. “Enough of this! Pirates, filth, disease, rough seas, shipwrecks. How many more reasons do you need?” Why would I subject you to that?”

He drew her back toward him and kissed her hands. “I am more concerned about your welfare than your availability to provide me with marital services. Life at sea is a man’s destiny, and for good reason. Women can endure it, but not for the sole purpose of a man’s selfishness. Your world is here, with the other women. Think of all the good you’ve done for all the townspeople.”

She pushed him away and circled like a shark around a bleeding victim. “All the good? Captain Howell will return to find his wife dead, and his daughter being wet-nursed by another man’s wife. Bethea is nearly dead from worry and grief, and if Kyle had been here, no doubt . . .”

He took her firmly by the shoulders once again. “Kyle’s presence would not have changed the outcome. The child would still have died. And what if they had been aboard the ship, far from medical attention? Would tossing his body overboard have made it easier? And would you care to give birth at sea, where no one has any knowledge of the conduct of such things? Would you abandon your desire for a child because of the risks?”

“No, of course not. Stay here with me. I won’t let you go.” Far from hysterical, her voice implied steely resolve.

No matter what he did, it wasn’t enough. She was acting like a spoiled child.

“Don’t ask me to give up my livelihood, Elisabeth!” He released her.

She backed away, the space between them now wider than it had ever been. “Why can’t you understand? Bethea needed Kyle by her side, not me! Mrs. Howell last looked into the eyes of a stranger. All we could give her was assurance we’d care for the babe. Her husband should have been with her to say goodbye. The last man that touched her was Doctor Fergus, his arm up inside her to his elbow, trying to stop the haemorrhage, while she lay there naked and dying! I was the one who slept in the house with the body to keep her company. Who will be with me, Edward?” Elisabeth picked up a hairbrush and hurled it at him.