Authors: Carole Ann Moleti
Chapter 25
Elisabeth awoke slumped in a chair, the muscles in her neck stiffened and twisted. She massaged to work out the cramp. The sick feeling in her stomach returned. The time for decision was at hand.
Sara stood behind the screen in the dressing area. Her shadow moved in slow motion as she sponged off and dried, then slipped into her clothing.
Elisabeth waited patiently until Sara stepped out, dressed in the black maid’s dress she hadn’t worn for many months.
“Would you like me to lay out your clothes, my lady? I assume you’d like something special.” Sara bowed her head in an exaggerated show of respect that served only to mock whatever was left of their friendship.
Elisabeth had not verbally asserted her intent to marry Jared. Indeed, she hadn’t even made the decision in her own mind. Sara’s tacit assumption, and her stony-faced acquiescence, gave Elisabeth little guidance, reassurance, or comfort.
“No, Sara. I’ll . . .”
She carried a basin of soiled water out of the room.
Elisabeth used the private time to relieve herself in the chamber pot. She contemplated where to take it, but Sara came back with a fresh pitcher of water and removed it without a word. Another ritual they hadn’t needed to follow in her huge, luxurious home with all its modern accouterments.
Elisabeth washed and dressed, but Sara never returned. Unsure of what to do next, she sank onto the bed. Dread rose in her at the prospect of seeing Jared and then the meeting with Somersell.
She opened the door in response to a soft knock, expecting Sara with breakfast. Instead, Jared came in dressed in a gentleman’s suit. The style was dated, but nevertheless he had been transformed overnight from a farmer to a suitor.
The tray in his hands trembled, and he quickly placed it on the table in front of the window. “Sara felt it would be best for us to have breakfast privately this morning. I see you’re dressed. Pray tell me where our first stop will be, Elisabeth.” He placed his hand on her shoulder.
She had no choice. The gentle, reassuring squeeze made Elisabeth wish he would continue upwards and massage the still painful cramp in her neck. The thought of Neville Somersell touching her seemed akin to torture. Refusing both men would cause far more harm to everyone, putting them all out of work and a home. Nothing would repair her relationship with Sara.
“I accept your kind offer of marriage, Jared. You’ve always been a dear friend and . . .” She struggled to continue but tears clogged her throat.
Jared took a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed her cheeks. “Elisabeth, I understand how difficult this is for you. I’ll handle the negotiations with Somersell. Nothing will change save I’ll be living in your house instead of my own.” He took both her hands and kissed each set of knuckles.
Except that Sara will be gone, and Edward is never coming back, and I have betrayed them both. And allowed myself to be sold, that which I swore to never do
. Elisabeth slipped her hands out of Jared’s and could only find the strength to nod.
Jared stirred sugar and cream into his tea, then prepared a cup for her. He knew how she liked it, no doubt something he’d observed during the numerous occasions they sat together on the porch or in the parlour, gossiping and discussing nothing of particular importance. How had she never noticed his intent, or his interest in her, even after Edward had commented on it?
It mattered little now. She’d once chosen a sailor’s callused hands over those of a manicured nobleman. Choosing a gentrified farmer with a gentle touch over the smooth but cruel one of a ruthless businessman was no different. Or was it?
“Eat, Elisabeth. It will be a long day, and you need strength.” He handed her a plate.
“Thank you.” She sipped the tea and nibbled the scone Jared had carefully dabbed with butter. Touched by love and concern, even the simple repast tasted surprisingly good. They ate in strained silence.
Jared waited until she drained her cup and her plate was empty. He dabbed his chin with a napkin. “Shall we go?” He rose and offered his arm.
Elisabeth clutched the handle of her satchel tightly. The mass of papers within had once permitted her to escape from her father and to meet Edward for a joyous reunion. They now signified the final death knell for him, for their marriage, for the life they’d dreamed of having together.
She recalled their last lovemaking, his final kiss, and the last time she heard his voice. And how she lay there, too lazy and complacent to even rise to see him off. Neither of them had any idea how wrong things would go, how each wish, hope, and dream would be blown out like candles, one-by-one, until they were both plunged into inescapable darkness.
Her right hand found the crook of Jared’s left arm then they went downstairs.
Jared hailed a Hansom cab. “It’s not far, but we have a full day ahead. Best to pace ourselves.”
Sara met them at the door and didn’t wait for assistance. Jared instructed the driver, then sat next to Elisabeth. It couldn’t have taken more than ten minutes to arrive at the courthouse; ten minutes spent averting eyes, clearing throats, moving as far away from each other as possible.
Elisabeth appreciated Jared taking control, barely able to keep her mind on one thought, let along think cogently about anything, formulate a plan, or take any action. She trusted him, yet felt like a coward for taking the easy path, something she’d never done before and had vowed to never do.
“Please wait, my friend,” Jared said to the driver as he helped both women out. “We’ll need to go to the wharves in but a half hour or so. I’ll settle it all afterwards.”
“Very good.” The driver jumped down, grabbed two buckets off a hook in the back, and plunked feed and water down for the horse.
The trio ascended the steps as if going toward their doom. The clerk in this office was nothing like the friendly gentleman in Berkshire. He stared at Jared as he approached the desk.
“We’re here for a civil marriage ceremony. Both myself and Mrs. Barrett are widowed.”
The clerk spoke with no emotion. “I’ll need the proper documents.”
Jared took a pack of papers from his breast pocket.
The man rifled through them. “Death certificate, Mrs. Effie Sanders. Very good.” He turned to Elisabeth. “I’ll need the same for your husband.”
She rustled through her satchel.
Somewhere in here is Edward’s death certificate, and my tickets to America, and my marriage certificate from Berkshire. And Jared was obviously planning this. He brought all those papers here with him . . .
“Let me help.” Jared’s hands went immediately to the stack of paper Mr. Wilcox had given her, which, of course, contained Edward’s death certificate.
Yes, he definitely planned ahead. Elisabeth watched Jared fill out even more papers, her mind a jumble of memories. She was dressed far more fashionably for this, her reluctant second marriage, than for her first. Nothing green, Edward always loved when she wore green. Jared wouldn’t, couldn’t know that, wouldn’t care. Instead of joyous anticipation, nothing but sorrow and guilt filled her soul.
“Step over here, please. And the witness. I’ll summon another clerk to serve as the second.” The justice rang a small bell and another responded. Neither man showed any emotion. After all, this was clearly just a business transaction.
“Repeat after me. I, Jared Sanders do hereby . . .”
His words disappeared into a fog swirling in Elisabeth’s head. She stared into Jared’s eyes as he recited his vows, but heard nothing. She only recalled Edward, smiling and gazing lovingly at her.
“I will.” Jared’s final affirmation broke the spell.
“And you, ma’am. I, Elisabeth Barrett do hereby take Jared Sanders to be my lawfully wedded husband . . .”
Sickness rose in her gut, but Elisabeth forced herself to repeat the words. It was as if she watched from above while some other woman spoke them. “. . . I will.”
The clerk nodded. Jared pressed her hands to his lips.
“You all need to sign. Witnesses on this page.” The registrar’s finger pointed out the lines.
After she and Jared signed their names, Sara pressed the pen to paper with such fury that ink overflowed, leaving a blotch which spread like a black shroud over the paper, threatening to bleed over into Jared and Elisabeth’s signatures.
The clerk’s final duty was to blot the extra ink, saving the document but not eradicating the curse.
Jared unrolled money from a wad in his pocket and placed the newest certificate into her satchel. “Shall I carry this for you, Elisabeth? It’s heavy.”
She reluctantly relinquished all the papers to her new husband, ceding all control over her life to him as well. She could have done worse. Somersell wouldn’t have even asked.
The sated horse and anxious cabby waited outside.
“The offices of Somersell Shipping, Dock Street.” Jared helped Sara in first. He stopped Elisabeth for a moment on the step and kissed her on the cheek before he whispered in her ear, “Now it’s time to give Mr. Somersell a counter offer he won’t likely be expecting. Everything will be fine.”
“Yes, Jared, it will.” Elisabeth settled next to her new husband.
The clerk sat at the same desk, following the same routine.
Sara settled into a chair and took a book from her pocket.
This time Jared did the talking. “Please let Mr. Somersell know we’re here.”
“Yes, sir.” The clerk rapped at the closed door and slipped into Somersell’s inner sanctum.
A moment later, he came out, followed by his boss.
Somersell looked past Jared, directly at Elisabeth who waited at his side. “Mrs. Barrett.”
Jared interrupted before Elisabeth could react to the simpering voice and leering smile. “That’s Mrs. Sanders, and I am handling my wife’s affairs.” Jared took Elisabeth’s arm and led her into the inner office.
Somersell closed the door and turned to them, his eyes wide in surprise. Elisabeth took great pleasure in seeing his smirk disappear and, despite her anguish, allowed a demure smile to touch her lips.
Somersell recovered his composure. “So I see you’ve chosen a farmer and a shack.”
“You will cease insulting me and my wife immediately, sir. Expect a counterproposal from me through Mr. Ebenezer Wilcox within the next thirty days. I do believe our business is concluded, unless you have anything further to add.”
Jared took Elisabeth’s arm, but didn’t avert his glare from Somersell. She couldn’t help remembering Edward, the first day they met, standing firm until Lord Thornlea backed off. And Edmond, stopping her raging father in his tracks by a simple reminder of a matter of law.
Working men, strong of body and character, up against the privileged class misusing their power. Elisabeth had no doubt Jared would knock Somersell out if he dared to taunt them further.
“Very well. I will expect a timely resolution and payment. Good day.” Somersell dismissed them with a wave of his hand.
Sara jumped to her feet and followed as she and Jared swept past her and out to the waiting cab. After another silent, strained ride to the hotel, Sara stormed off down the street without a word, leaving the two newlyweds alone. Jared took her to her room, and helped as Elisabeth fumbled with the lock. Once inside, they stared at each other. Not one word had passed between them since they said, “I will.”
“Jared, there is one more task I need help with.” Elisabeth retrieved the bag with her jewellry. “I want to sell these. The funds can be used to help settle the debt.”
He opened the bag and closed it immediately. “You should keep these things. They likely bring you much pleasure . . .”
“Jared, please, I never want to see any of it again.” Anything that Edward had touched bore a vestige of him, and the reminder that this bag had marked the first, but not the last time he’d abandoned her brought nothing but more painful memories to her already bruised mind.
“Very well. You stay here and rest. I will dispose of them for you. When I return, we shall have lunch and a raise a glass to the future. I believe we can get a boat back to the Cape tonight.” He kissed her hand, took the bloody bag, and left.
Jared handled the awkward moment with aplomb. “Please put the ladies’ belongings into the larger cabin. I’ll take my things into the smaller one.”
The sailors did as ordered, and Elisabeth and Sara soon found themselves alone, staring at each other across the double bed in the tiny stateroom. The clipper was much smaller than
The Sea Mist,
and even in the best of circumstances this room was too tiny for both of them.
“Sara, I . . .”
“Please, Elisabeth. There is nothing more to say. I am going to ask Jared to book me passage back to Boston, on this very ship’s return trip. I will pack and bid my sister farewell. Jared has already inquired about passage to England, and agreed to pay my fare.” Sara turned her back and unpacked a few necessities.
Elisabeth did the same, wondering how they were going to survive the next day and a half on the way back to Brewster. Such sharp contrast to the pleasant journey when she’d first arrived, full of new beginnings and promises of a new life. Now there were just endings, personal tragedies, and losses.
The ship lurched in the wintry seas. She went out on deck to watch waves break over the bow. Sea spray crystallized by the cold stung her face. The water looked like black tea topped with a smattering of clotted cream.
Elisabeth imagined Edward’s corpse beneath the surface, his face bloated, blue and contorted with misery. She grasped the gunnels for support as the ship swayed, envisioning the mayhem when
The Sea Mist
sank, taking all aboard to the bottom. Had it been quick, would it be quick, if she jumped, joined him in death? Would he be there to meet her, arms open, smiling?