Authors: Jane Jackson
‘There, it’s all over –’ Kerenza started to reassure, but the words died on her tongue as it was followed by a sudden gush of blood. For an instant she simply stared, frozen in horror and disbelief. Then she dived forward, grabbing handfuls of cloth, trying to staunch the flow. Was it her fault? Had she caused it? Should she not have tried to help? ‘It’s all right, Dulcie,’ she babbled, her mouth and throat as dry as ashes. ‘It’ll be all right.’ How could she stop it? What should she do?
‘K’renza?’ Dulcie whispered, reaching out then letting her hand fall back onto the rough, dark blanket.
‘Just a minute.’ Dropping the dripping wad of cloth in the bucket, Kerenza seized another handful, overwhelmed by dread as it swiftly turned crimson. Too much blood.
‘Now!’ Dulcie’s voice cracked with effort, and the baby continued to cry in tiny, shuddering wails.
Kerenza’s heart was beating so fast she felt as if a bird was trapped in her chest, frantic, terrified, and desperate to escape. She didn’t want to listen. She couldn’t cope with any more.
‘Please,’ Dulcie whispered.
Kerenza flinched. It was the first time in her life she had ever heard Dulcie say that word. Wiping her wet, red hands on a remnant of cloth, she knelt beside the bunk.
‘Hold my hand,’ Dulcie whispered.
As her sister’s fingers closed on hers, Kerenza’s vision blurred and she felt hot tears spill down her face as she thought of all the wasted years, the unhappiness they had both suffered.
‘He’s not coming, is he?’ It wasn’t a question.
Kerenza’s chest jerked as she swallowed a sob. What good would the truth do now? ‘I –’
Dulcie wasn’t listening. ‘Too tired. The baby – don’t let – you must – he’s your –’ Her voice faltered and her tongue moved slowly over her cracked lips.
No
, Kerenza howled in her head. She didn’t want this responsibility. She didn’t want all the problems it would bring. She didn’t want to lose Nick.
‘Promise me.’ Dulcie’s heavy-lidded gaze was fever bright.
Kerenza looked down at the jet-black hair, skin the colour of milky coffee, and the tiny face, eyes tight shut, mouth open as he cried. She had helped him into the world. He was her sister’s child, her own flesh and blood. If not her, then who? The baby was innocent, as much a victim of circumstance as she was. If she refused, how would she live with herself?
‘Promise –’ Dulcie’s eyelids drooped. But her grip remained steadfast, as if all her strength was concentrated in that one hand.
Blinded by tears that came straight from her heart, Kerenza let go of the dreams she had clung to through all that had happened since she boarded
Kestrel
in Falmouth harbour. ‘I promise.’
Dulcie’s grip slackened and her eyes closed. After a few moments, she gave a gentle sigh.
‘Dulcie?’ Kerenza whispered, not wanting to believe what every instinct and the subtle change in her sister’s stillness were telling her.
Releasing her sister’s hand, she picked up the baby. Holding him close, she rocked to and fro in an agony too deep even for tears as she grieved for their past and her future.
After a while she roused herself, and after washing and swaddling the baby in lengths cut from her
ha’ik
, she laid him on the top bunk. Then she gently straightened her sister’s limbs, pulled the torn shift and kaftan down, and covered her with the coarse blanket. Another birth, another death.
She had almost finished cleaning up the mess when a knock on the door made her jump. ‘Yes?’ she called, tired to the depths of her soul. She looked round, expecting the steward, but Nick stood in the doorway.
‘I wondered – I heard the child cry, but when you didn’t come out – Is everything all right?’
Turning away, Kerenza covered her face with both hands. She heard his footfall, felt his hands on her shoulders.
‘Kerenza?’ His tone was wary, anxious. Then she felt his grip tighten, heard his intake of breath as he looked past her to the blanket-shrouded figure on the bottom bunk. ‘She’s
dead
?’
Unable to speak, Kerenza simply nodded. She felt herself turned, felt his arms encircle her, gently, tenderly. She held herself rigid, longing to relax into his embrace, not daring to. Accepting comfort now would make coping without it even harder.
‘I don’t know what to say.’ He sounded helpless. ‘Though one thing I am sure of, you’ll have done your very best for her.’ Anger hardened his voice. ‘Not that she deserved it. You should never have had to go through all this. The way your family – it was wicked. It wasn’t only them either. The grief I’ve caused you will haunt me to my dying day.’
‘Please –’ Kerenza broke free, clinging to the bunk with one hand while she wiped her face with the other. ‘Please don’t say any more. It’s too – I can’t –’
‘Forgive me. I shouldn’t have – It’s just – You see, I thought I knew you.’ His tone was wry, self-mocking. ‘I was wrong. I didn’t, not properly, not until this past four weeks. When I think of all that’s happened on the voyage and how you’ve dealt with everything that’s been thrown at you – Mrs Woodrow’s spite, Captain Penrose’s death, your father’s behaviour, helping Lady Russell give birth, and then this … Kerenza Vyvyan, you put me – all of us – to shame.’
‘
Don’t
–’ she begged, as grief clogged her throat. He didn’t know it, but every word of admiration drove another nail into her heart. She didn’t deserve them. She had done what was necessary because there had been no one else to do it. She had given her word to Dulcie because there was no one else Dulcie could ask. And that promise was breaking her heart.
‘Oh God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. Is the child all right?’
She struggled for control. ‘A healthy little boy.’ Looking at the bundle in the top bunk, she sucked in a tremulous breath. ‘Now I have to tell my father.’
‘Not about the baby. He already knows.’
‘He does? But – How –?’
‘I told him.’ As shock, relief, and gratitude brought her head up again, he lifted one shoulder. ‘Your sister’s screaming – It was obvious there was far more going on than treatment of a flesh wound. Besides, it wasn’t your responsibility.’
She moistened her lips. ‘Neither was it yours.’
‘Perhaps not. But when your father receives bad news he blames whoever delivers it. I won’t have him blaming you. You don’t deserve it. You’ve already been through enough – too much.’
Kerenza bent her head, fighting more tears. He had done that for her. How could she bear it?
‘How did he take the news?’
‘Not well, though he was more shaken than angry. He was relieved your sister had not been forcibly – But he was horrified that she could have welcomed – or allowed herself –’ With an embarrassed cough, Nick flapped one hand. ‘He’s in my day cabin. Toy’s with him, letting him talk. Look, leave all this now. You’ve done everything you can for the time being. Let me escort you to the saloon. You must eat something. It’s been hours since –’
‘I couldn’t eat.’ Kerenza plucked at the skirt of her vomit-stained, blood-smeared dress and shook her head. ‘And I’m not fit to be seen.’
‘You’re brave and lovely,’ he said softly.
So he should not see her wretched tears, she turned to the bunk and lifted the baby, whose mournful cry wrenched her heart.
‘What’s wrong with him?’
The unease in Nick’s voice helped Kerenza regain control of her emotions. ‘He’s hungry, poor little mite. Do you think Broad would mind if I asked for half a cup of goat’s milk diluted with a little boiling water?’
‘You could ask Broad for the moon and he’d try to get it for you,’ Nick said dryly. He stood back for her to precede him out of the cabin.
In the passage she sucked in a deep breath that tasted cool and wonderfully fresh. She hadn’t realised how thick, tainted, and cloying the air in the cabin had become. Would she ever get the stench of blood out of her nostrils? She hesitated. ‘I need a clean handkerchief, to use as a – to feed the baby.’
‘In your trunk? I’ll fetch it. You go and sit down.’
Too tired to protest, she went into the saloon and slid into the seat nearest the door just as Broad came out of the galley.
‘I thought I heard –’ He glanced at the baby. ‘All right, is it? Poor little mite.’ Sighing, he shook his head. ‘How’s Miss Vyvyan? Had some time of it, she did.’
Kerenza swallowed. ‘Sh-she didn’t – It was too –’ Her voice broke and she bent over the baby. For as long as she could remember, her life had been shaped by Dulcie’s selfishness. Living at her grandmother’s, where she was loved and valued, had been a revelation. Then she had met Nick. After the terrible misunderstanding that had parted them and almost destroyed her, the voyage had forced them once more into each other’s company. Slowly, tentatively, they had both reached out across the gulf of hurt and anger, recognising qualities in each other they would never have discovered had it not been for the hardships and crises forced upon them by events. But now once again Dulcie’s choices, Dulcie’s actions, were shaping her life.
‘Dear life, I’m some sorry, miss.’ The steward’s voice echoed his shock. ‘What’s going to happen to the little ’un?’
She heard Nick’s approaching footsteps. Once she spoke the words out loud it would be real. There would be no going back. She swallowed again, lifted her chin. She had no choice. ‘I shall raise him in my sister’s place.’
‘Broad,’ Nick said from the doorway behind her, ‘Miss Vyvyan needs half a cup of goat’s milk topped up with boiling water for the baby.’
‘Right you are, sir.’ As the steward disappeared, Nick dropped the freshly laundered square of cambric on the table, pulled out the chair and sat facing her.
‘Is that really what you want?’ he asked quietly. ‘I don’t mean the bloody goat’s milk. I’m talking about –’ He nodded toward the swaddled bundle nestled against her breast.
Kerenza looked down at the baby, who was just a blur: not daring to blink in case falling tears betrayed her. Anguish closed her throat and she had to clear it before she could speak. She couldn’t lie to him. It wasn’t what she wanted. It was what she had to do. His implied admiration and respect touched her deeply. But what she longed for,
craved,
was his love. And he had not even hinted at such a possibility. Certainly he would not want her now. So she must let him to walk away with a clear conscience. It would be her farewell gift. She forced herself to glance up.
‘I gave Dulcie my promise.’ But she couldn’t hold his gaze, and bent her head once more over the baby.
There was a pause before he spoke. ‘I see.’
Broad returned with the milk and water and set it down in the angle between the fiddle rails, where the tilt of the ship held it steady.
Taking the cambric square, Kerenza folded it into a cone, dipped the point in the cup and tested the temperature on the inside of her wrist. Then she dripped the liquid into the baby’s mouth, an involuntary smile tilting her trembling lips at the sucking sounds he made.
Nick stood up, tucked the chair beneath the table, and moved away to speak quietly to the steward. As Broad returned to the galley, he hesitated beside her.
‘I will tell your father about – what’s happened.’
‘Thank you,’ she whispered without raising her head.
‘When you’ve finished, Broad will bring you some hot food. You may not feel like eating, but you must try. For the child’s sake.’
Recoiling inwardly from the anger that edged his tone, Kerenza focused her whole attention on feeding the baby, who was far too absorbed in suckling to notice the occasional teardrop falling onto his downy cheek.
Half an hour later, the cup was almost empty. Holding the baby against her shoulder, Kerenza gently rubbed and patted his back. His forehead was warm and she could feel his quick, light breaths against her neck.
‘All done, is he?’ Broad asked from the doorway. As she nodded, he disappeared, returning a few moments later with a steaming bowl of lamb stew and a spoon. ‘Here you are, miss. Get that down. Do you good, it will.’
Kerenza gazed at the food. She felt more queasy than hungry. But that was probably because it was more than eight hours since her last meal. Her stomach gurgled and Broad pulled out the chair, then held out his arms.
‘Give him here, miss. I’ll hold him for you. ’Tis all right, I know what I’m doing.’ He grinned. ‘Had two strapping boys of my own, I did. Both gone now, God rest ’em. One was took with the croup when he was no more’n a toddler. T’other one, Eddie, was lost when the
Mary-Jane
went down with all hands. Nineteen, he was. Broke his mother’s heart, it did. She wasn’t the same after that. Two years later she was gone too.’
‘Oh Mr Broad, I’m so sorry.’ Kerenza was appalled. She’d had no idea.
‘Well, ’twas a long time ago, miss. But you don’t forget. C’mon, give him here.’
‘Thank you.’ She transferred the baby and Broad sat down.
‘Right, now –’ He indicated the bowl with a nod. ‘Don’t let it go cold.’
You don’t forget. Kerenza looked at the stew, and recalled in vivid detail Zohra’s house and the first meal she had shared with Nick, strange, delicious food they had eaten with their fingers. She would never do that again. But nothing and no one could take away her memories. Those were hers for as long as she lived.
She picked up the spoon. The first mouthful was hard to swallow, but the second seemed to trigger her hunger. By the time she had eaten half of what was in the bowl she felt far less jangled, though suddenly very tired. That wasn’t really surprising considering all that had happened since leaving Zohra’s that morning.
Putting down the spoon she sat back. ‘Thank you, Mr Broad. That was very tasty.’
‘Glad you enjoyed it, miss. Feel all the better for it, you will.’
Hearing footsteps on the companionway, she pushed herself to her feet, surprised at the effort it took. ‘I think I’ll go to my cabin.’
‘Good idea, miss. You go on ahead, I’ll bring the babby.’
‘Yes. Thank you.’ She swayed, and grabbed the door surround to steady herself. There was a strange buzzing in her ears, like a swarm of bees. Her legs were tingling and the floor felt soft, as if she were walking on cushions. Ahead of her, a tall figure filled the passage. The darkness that had been hovering at the edge of her vision closed in.
Nick.
She started to reach out, heard a warning shout, and tipped forward into oblivion.