Authors: Jane Prescott
“He is the hero of the day, it seems,” Sarah said with some excitement.
“And he acknowledged your role in the idea? That is, he said it was your idea?”
They stopped walking as Sarah pondered what her sister had asked.
“Well- no, but that is- we’re not engaged. It would have been unusual for him to say anything of my part in it. Improper, too. I’m sure everything is as it was supposed to be in that regard.”
But as they continued on, she began to feel more and more doubt about the fact she’d received no credit. She was certain that it was not unheard of for a wife or a fiancée to advise her husband on business or even political matters in private, never to be recognized for her efforts in public. She had little doubt of it. Yet it left her uncomfortable all the same. The same sort of discomfort she sensed in Edgar when he’d put forward the bold plan to the workers. He had championed her idea, and yet he seemed unexcited by it.
Something still troubled her and she couldn’t put her finger on what. She bit her lip trying to think of what it was.
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Indian Ocean
October 27, 1816
Commander Hargrove found Lieutenant Woods keeping an alert, though late, vigil over the ship late into the night. As captain of the ship, Hargrove knew he should be sleeping. It was his duty to be equally alert on his own shift. Woods was an excellent first mate and a close friend. However, he had been struggling to rest.
“Good evening, Captain.” Woods snapped to attention and saluted when he saw his friend approaching, as was protocol. Hargrove nodded and rested his elbows on the side of the boat.
“Warm evening, this one.”
“Aye, sir.”
He said nothing for a time, which Woods took as a cue. “If you don’t mind my asking Captain, something troubling you?”
“Shouldn’t be, Woods. It definitely should not be on my mind, yet I confess it is so.”
“I have suspected it, if you’ll excuse my saying so. You haven’t seemed yourself this voyage.”
Hargrove raised an eyebrow at this. “Oh? How so, man?”
“You’ve been in far too bright of a mood.”
Hargrove chuckled at this. He’d been very much the opposite, being more prone to angry outbursts and flashes of temper. While nothing like a tyrant to his men who, for the most part, respected and obeyed the young sea captain, he’d been far more likely to give a tongue-lashing to idlers and duty-shirkers. The other day he’d broken up a fight- started by McCracken, of course- and had seen to it that the man was tied to the mast for a morning. It was a serious, though necessary punishment and unlike other captains, he had been extremely reluctant to use the whip even before meeting Sarah.
“I wish there were more of a spring in my step, Woods. Do the men grumble about it?”
“There’s been no talk as of yet, sir, at least, none as the officers have heard. You have been stormier than the Cape of Good Hope, though.”
Hargrove tapped the wood beneath his fingers thoughtfully, a habit he’d fallen into when his mind was distracted at sea. “I’ll be blunt with you. My mind has not been on the Indies as it should be. Rather, I keep thinking of a life at home. So rarely have my thoughts turned to such matters in the past, yet I can’t look away from it either.”
Woods continued his vigil while addressing his captain. “Sir, since we were boys we spoke of nothing but life before the mast. I have suspected that you might find such a single purpose too limiting for you one day.”
“Yes, you have your Cecily back home,” Hargrove commented. “A fine woman. Any man would be lucky to be so well-wed.”
“And she is with a generous father as well, I might add,” Woods remarked with a laugh. “My meager commission isn’t enough to sustain a wife well. But as you know, I’ll be leaving this life soon enough.”
“Your father-in-law owns a… what was it again?”
“Mines, sir. Mines in Wales and the border counties. He anticipates more coal will be needed in coming years. It’s the future, if you will, and he sees a spot for his son-in-law in management.”
“A good arrangement to be sure, Woods,” Hargrove readily agreed, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “You are fortunate.”
“Sir,” Woods tried to frame his words carefully. He knew he had far more leave to address the man than any of the others, yet it was still good policy to be cautious when addressing your superior officer. “No disrespect intended, but did a certain lovely creature in the town of Wyecombe inspire this turn of mind? You were not in such black moods before our arrival.”
He saw Hargrove’s jawline clench, a warning of possible tension. However, he just as soon eased. “I would not wish to seem in agony over such a chance meeting, nor would I like such gossip to be passed about among the officers.”
“Of course, Captain,” Woods agreed.
“I fear you have come straight to the heart of the matter. In our limited time in town, I made a few inquiries. Had I but a little more time, I should have liked to have made a proper introduction to the girl’s father. But time and our orders would not permit it.”
“She was a most winsome beauty, Captain.”
He nodded. “It was impertinent to suggest she help teach the wretches manners. Impertinent and rude. You meant well, of course,” he said, seeing his friend’s face fall at the mention of his idea. “But I should never have countenanced the mention.”
Woods fell silent and Hargrove paced, considering what he’d just said. “Proper introductions- that should be just the thing. I’ve been away from land so long, it’s only natural I should have forgotten the proper etiquette of such things. We’ll be back in Suffolk in a few short months and then… well, we’ll see the lay of things then.”
Woods coughed. “What- what is it Woods?” Hargrove asked.
“Well- you will excuse me for saying so, Captain, but have you considered the possibility she has another suitor?”
Hargrove returned his gaze far out to sea. The light was just starting to break, creeping up far in the eastern horizon towards Australia and the Indies. “I have considered that. It pains me to think upon it, but it is always a thought. Yet, it seems to me that if God had intended I should have such strong feelings for this woman, he would surely have made it clearer to me that it wasn’t meant to be.”
“You have always been the more spiritual of the two of us, sir.” Woods smiled.
“I suppose that is so. But if God did not intend for me to marry her, I expect he will make it plain. Until we return to England, I can but pray and dream.”
Chapter 5: The Experience
Wycombe, Suffolk
November 12, 1816
At all times, whether in public or private, Sarah and Edgar were under the close scrutiny of relatives. Without a moment alone, this was precisely as etiquette demanded, but it could be trying.
Though she enjoyed the company of her sisters, there was never a chance to really get to know Edgar so long as Louisa, Jane, or Beth were in tow. It wasn’t as though they enjoyed it any more than she did, apart from Beth. Beth was prone to boredom, but at least she was usually in good spirits simply because she had the opportunity to spend time with her favorite sister.
All the same, she was tiring of the company. There were many thoughts troubling her, and it seemed she was forever being watched and wondering when she’d have a chance to ask her questions.
On this particular dreary, wet semi-winter day, she and Edgar were planning to check up on the Dawsons. It had not been Edgar’s idea; he had agreed solely upon her urging.
“If your neighbors are taking advantage of the town kitchen, they should be well enough,” Edgar grumbled. The institution had been created some time after the feeding plan at the mill, and it seemed to be pulling starving families back from the brink. Though it was fairly unpopular with most of the benefactors, there was little doubt that the free lunch was very welcomed by the people of Wyecombe. Despite the expense, the business owners had to agree it was providing their workforce with enough sustenance to report in each day.
“I would sleep better if I could be certain of it,” Sarah suggested. They were in the parlor and had just finished reading a book of Coleridge’s poetry. Though Louisa was with them, she was clearly bored and was eager to do something, anything on her own.
He set the book down and sighed heavily. “It is rather cold out for a visitation. But if you think it’s needful…”
“I do.” She stood, crossed the room, and gently set her hand on his. Such an action would be too forward in most company, but with her sisters, she knew she had some allowance. After all, they were engaged.
“Then it must be so. Let’s at least wrap up warmly. Louisa, are you coming?”
Before her sister could answer, Sarah spoke up for her. “We’re simply going next door and we shan’t be all that long. I think it unnecessary, don’t you?”
Louisa happily agreed, adjusting her glasses as she nodded. “I’m certain it’s of no consequence if I go with you or no. You’ll tell us how Jon fares? I suspect Jane would like to know.”
“Of course.” Sarah replied, and took Edgar up by the hand. They went to the hall, wrapped up in coats and boots, and stepped into the windy, cold rain. Edgar had a hansom handy and urged the horses forward.
“They aren’t far, are they?” he asked, forced to raise his voice. The wind whipped about them, making it hard to see and hear.
“Not much beyond that ridge!” she assured him, yelling into her fiancé’s ear.
The horses balked at the ride, but there was little choice but to press on. The worsening weather soon left them with little recourse but to go forward as the trip back was equally long. However, once they’d reached close to the bottom of the hill, they saw that the road ahead had been washed out.
“What do we do now?” she called out, and had her answer before he could respond. “There! Cross the field that way!” Sarah could barely make out the outline of an outlying building belong to the Dawsons. Edgar nodded and encouraged the horses across the open field.
Once at the building, Edgar unhitched the pair of horses and led them into the building with Sarah. Inside, it was much warmer. The building was filled with warm, dusty hay and straw.
“Well,” Edgar groused as they fed and watered the beasts, “I suppose we shall have to make this arrangement as comfortable as is reasonable.”
“It would seem so,” she agreed. Sarah looked about and found a large pile of loose straw. “I had a spare blanket in the carriage beneath the potatoes.”
He looked confused, and then gave a small scowl. “The potatoes… oh. Of course. You must have had one of the girls sneak it on while we were reading.”
“Yes, it was Beth, I’m afraid. A poor trick, I know. But we don’t really need them.”
“That was very foolish, my dear, to give them away.” He scolded. Then he shrugged. “Well, best to bring them in or they’ll be ruined, the lot. I’ll fetch them away.”
He returned shortly with the bag and blanket, shaking himself off like a wet dog. “Blanket is a touch wet about the edges, but should do. Better than sitting on sharp straw, regardless.”
“I should think so,” she agreed.
Once he’d spread it out, they both sat, keeping a modest distance from each other. “I suppose that if we are stuck here or very long, we could start a fire and cook the potatoes.” She suggested.
“What? I say, that would certainly start a rather larger fire, wouldn’t it? As likely to destroy the...” He spotted the sly smile on her lips. “Oh. Have your fun then,” he snickered.
“I might.” She caressed his cheek. “It is rather cold in here, isn’t it?”
“A bit,” he agreed. It wasn’t terribly frigid, but he took her general meaning. “I suppose I could use with some warming up.”
Sarah wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to kiss him, but curiosity had gotten the better of her. After all, if he was to be her husband, she thought she ought to try the idea once. They drew closer to one another and she almost drew back.
“Come on, love. It’ll be fine, I promise,” he whispered. She almost stopped but found she wanted to try it. What harm was there in a kiss?