A Leap of Faith (The Hands of Time: Book 2) (7 page)

Louisa woke up sometime in the middle of the night.  The air in the cabin was close and warm; the darkness almost impenetrable.  She threw off the covers, lying there in her linen shift.  Agnes was sound asleep, obviously feeling better.  Louisa wondered if the girl had reached puberty yet.  Most girls did by the age of fifteen, but Agnes was small for her age and might have been underfed her whole life.  Lack of proper nutrition would forestall the onset of puberty. 

The reason Louisa was wondering was because she needed some practical advice.  Her period began a few days ago
, and she had already gone through her stash of tampons.  She had only two left, and needed something to use in their place.  She supposed women used some kind of rags, but she didn’t have any, and had no idea what would hold them in place if she did. 

Louisa had been forced to part with her bra and panties once Agnes moved in.  The girl went through all her things and washed her undergarments as needed.  It wouldn’t do for her to see these items.  Louisa didn’t mind going braless
, as much as she minded the lack of underwear.  She felt strangely exposed despite the petticoat and long skirt, and kept pressing her legs together, conscious of her nakedness.  She supposed she would have to get used to that, among other things; like not washing on a regular basis.  The sailors provided some seawater upon request to wash with, but it made Louisa’s hair feel coarse and brittle.  What she wouldn’t give for a hot shower and some good conditioner.  A cappuccino wouldn’t hurt either.  She hadn’t had a cup of coffee since her last morning in 2012, and she longed for caffeine. 

The fare on the ship was horrible.  Cook usually gave them
biscuits and ale for breakfast, some kind of salt meat and bread for lunch, and a stew of some sort for dinner.  The captain occasionally got a chop or a roasted chicken, which he frequently offered to share with Louisa, to the chagrin of the other passengers.  She didn’t want to encourage the captain’s attentions, but at this point, she would do almost anything for a piece of chicken and a vegetable.  She would probably have kissed him for a piece of fruit. 

Agnes moaned in her sleep and turned over, facing the wall.  The light outside the porthole was beginning to change from
inky blue to a misty gray, signaling the arrival of a new day.  So far, the weather had been lovely, with a brisk wind that carried them at a good speed.  The captain was pleased with their progress, hoping to make it to the West Indies within a few weeks.  They would resupply the ship, and take on fresh water, before continuing on to Virginia. 

Louisa waited until the milky light reached all the corners of the cabin
, and pulled out Christopher Sheridan’s book.  It was a collection of sonnets, some of which she recognized.  She was almost finished with it, but after last night, she was a little embarrassed to go ask him for another book.  Louisa flipped through the leather-bound volume looking for her place, when a folded sheet of paper fell out onto her lap.  Louisa picked it up and turned it over in her hand.  It was bad manners to read other people’s private correspondence, but she was curious about this man, and if it was that private he most likely would have removed it from the book.  He probably just forgot about it, in which case, she would read it and put it right back.  Louisa unfolded the letter.  It was written in an elegant hand, the ink slightly faded.

London

October 2,
1617

My dearest Kit,

No mere words can convey how much I miss you and long for your return.  Your mother has been very kind to me, introducing me to London society
, and securing an invitation to Court for the Christmas festivities.  I am a little intimidated by the prospect of meeting King James, but I know you would want me to go, so I will put on a brave face and make you proud.  Sometimes I sorely miss the peace and quiet of the country, but London is full of diversions, and I am doing my best to enjoy them all.

There seems to be a
rumor going around that Thomas Edmondes is being recalled to England from his post as the Ambassador to France.  Does this mean you will be coming home soon, my love?  I hope and pray to see your face again before the end of the year.

Your loving wife,

Helena Sheridan

Louisa refolded the letter and slipped it between the pages of the book.  She felt a crushing disappointment at finding out that Christopher Sheridan had a wife.  Technically, he hadn’t done anything wrong, but she felt angry with him.  Why was he being nice to her if he had a loving woman waiting for him back home?  Of course, he was probably lonely being away from home for months on end, but still. 

She had been a
gullible fool to think that he was interested in her.  He probably was interested, but not in the way she thought.  That comment he made about her visiting his cabin, was probably designed to feel her out and see if she would be willing to visit it while he was there; ready and willing.  Louisa threw the book onto the crumpled bedding and stood up, needing to go somewhere.  She quickly realized that, in fact, there was absolutely nowhere to go.  The cabin felt like a cage, and she sat back down, frustrated and angry. 

Louisa
was just beginning to calm down when Agnes sat bolt upright on her berth.  The girl looked around in a panic, grabbing for the bucket just in time to retch into it. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, a guilty look on her face. 

“Are you all right, Agnes?  Do you want some water?”  The girl accepted a cup of water and drank it down in one gulp. 

“Thank you, Miss.  I feel better now.  ‘Tis just all that motion what’s sickening me.  I ‘ave never been on a ship afore this.”

“I would have thought you’d have gotten your sea legs by now.  It’s been nearly two weeks.”  Louisa felt a little seasick for the first day or two, but then it passed
, thankfully.  She would hate to be as sick as Agnes had been.  “Shall we go get some breakfast?  I’m famished, and there is nothing I’d like better than a hard biscuit and a cup of ale,” added Louisa with a wicked grin. 

“You go right on up, Miss.  I
will just tidy up a bit and go to the head, then join you later.  I am not quite ready to eat yet.”

“All right.  Suit yourself. Incidentally, I was just wondering if you might have some
rags.”  Louisa looked away for a moment, unsure of how to verbalize her need.

“You mean for “the curse
,” Miss?  I have prepared some for you.  They are just here.”  Agnes pulled out several smaller rags and one large one, and handed them to Louisa.  It wouldn’t do to ask Agnes how to use these, since any woman of the time would be familiar with the process, so Louisa thanked Agnes and left the cabin.  She would fold up the smaller rags and then use the bigger one to hold them in place, tying the ends at her hips and praying for the best. 

Agnes waited for the door to close behind her mistress before sinking back down on the bed.  The nausea had abated, but she needed a few moments alone.  She hadn’t expected the sickness to last for so long, or be so debilitating.  She hoped it would pass soon.  She loved Miss Jamison, and prayed that she wouldn’t sell her contract to someone else once they docked in Virginia.  Agnes had never worked for anyone other than her aunt and uncle before, but she knew that Miss Jamison was a rare find.  She was so kind and considerate.  Agnes never expected that a woman of quality would treat her with such care or compassion. 

She did notice some strange things about her, but she had no de
sire to question her betters.  Miss Jamison said odd things that Agnes didn’t understand from time to time, and was almost too familiar with her; not like a mistress, but more like a friend.  She supposed she was lonely on this ship with no one but the pesky vicar and the annoying Collins’ for company.  Agnes couldn’t help wondering if Miss Jamison would consent to be wed.  The captain was obviously smitten with her, as was the Reverend Blackley.  Agnes preferred Mr. Sheridan herself.  He was handsome and charming, and had beautiful manners.

Agnes grabbed her stomach as another wave of nausea made her reach for the bucket, reminding her of her predicament.  She wasn’t sure how much longer she would be able to hide her condition from her mistress.  She was about
three months gone, and would begin to show by the time they reached the New World.    Besides, she was sure to notice that Agnes had not bled since they left England.  It might be wise to fake her menses, but then Miss Jamison would feel even more duped when she found out the truth.  Best not to do anything.

Agnes covered the bucket with the lid and
curled into a fetal position on the narrow berth.  Oh, how she wished she would miscarry.  Why was it that the unwanted babies always lived on, while the wanted ones were taken away?  She wanted to love this child, but she simply couldn’t.  The way it had been conceived left her feeling soiled and angry.  She knew it wasn’t the child’s fault, but she couldn’t help the way she felt, could she? 

“You are an absolute gem,” said Alec, kissing the top of Valerie’s head.  “That ledger nearly gave me an apoplexy last month, and I was dreading even looking at it this time.”  Alec settled himself across from Valerie and reached for a piece of bread. 

“I thought as much.  Glad to be of help.”  Valerie looked up as Charles walked into the dining room. 

“Good morning, Charlie.  How did you sleep last night?” she asked, all innocence.  Charles looked tired and drawn this morning, making Valerie wonder if he had been prowling the house again, lurking in Alec’s study.

“Like a baby.”  Charles took a seat next to Louisa and winked at her, making her giggle.  “How did you make out with the ledger
s, Alec?  Was it as difficult as last month?”

“Valerie balanced them for me.  She surprised me this morning.  I strongly recommend marrying a woman who can do the accounts.  It doesn’t matter if she is ugly as sin, as long as she can balance a ledger.”  Alec ducked as Valerie
threw her napkin at his head. 

Charles gave Cora a winning smile
, as she set a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him and poured him a cup of ale.  The girl looked away, embarrassed, her cheeks turning a lovely shade of rose.  Cora usually served at breakfast, and Valerie noticed that the girl always paid particular attention to Charles, who was without question, very handsome.  Charles was tall like his brothers, with the same wavy dark hair and thickly-lashed eyes, but his eyes were the color of jade, rather than the emerald green of Finlay’s eyes, or the amber of Alec’s.  He was always charming, and had the talent of making the person he was talking to feel as if they were the most important person in the room.  Cora flashed Charles a beatific smile before taking the empty pitcher and leaving the room.

“I
will take that under consideration, Brother.  Speaking of marriage, I was thinking of going to visit Miss Gaines today.  Do you need anything from town?”

“Miss
Annabel Gaines?  She can’t be older than fifteen, Charlie.”  Alec set down his cup of ale and looked over at his brother. 

“And not that much younger than Violet was when you married her.  Besides, I am in no hurry.  I simply want to get there first before somebody else does.  You must admit, she has the face of an angel.”
  Valerie was distracted from the conversation by the sound of Cora dropping something in the hallway.

“Are you getting married, Uncle Charles?” asked Louisa.  “I’ve never been to a wedding.”

“Not for some time, petal.  I am simply staking my claim.”  Charles buttered a piece of bread and reached for the pot of honey, spreading his bread liberally. 

“I am never getting married,” piped in Finn.  “I hate girls.”

“Good, then you can stay here and take care of us in our dotage,” answered Alec without missing a beat.  “I intend to be a very cantankerous old man, and I am sure your mother will be simply unbearable.  Just look at her now.”

“Don’t mock me, Father.”  Finn turned red, as he usually did when he got angry.  He had been difficult
this past year, no longer a little boy, but not yet a man.  Valerie strongly suspected that he had been having some wet dreams, and was deeply embarrassed by his new interest in the opposite sex.

“My
apologies.  I was simply trying to show you all the alternatives,” answered Alec innocently.

Kit pulled off his boots and stretched out on the berth, still fully dressed.  He was tired after spending nearly all night on the bridge.  Captain Fellowes had every right to delegate, but he was spending less and less time on the bridge, and more time guzzling his claret.  Kit didn’t mind being in charge, but it prevented him from interacting with others, such as Mistress Jamison … Louisa.  She had been giving him the cold shoulder the last few days, and he needed to find an opportunity to get back into her good graces.  He must have offended her that night on the bridge.  He hadn’t meant to caress her hands or stand so close, but she looked so beautiful, standing there bathed in moonlight, her hair curling around her face, her eyes so full of something he couldn’t quite name. 

Kit closed his eyes and tried to picture Helena’s face.  It no longer came to him the way it did before.  It had been too long since he’d seen it.  He was still tormented by the same old regrets.  How he wished he
had taken her away from London that spring.  She might have still been alive.  The outbreak of plague had been very minor that year, but it still claimed over one thousand lives, along with those of his wife and mother.  They had been married for nearly five years, but he barely knew his wife.  He knew that he loved her and that he hungered for her body, but he knew very little of her soul. 

King
James had assigned him to Thomas Edmondes when he was sent to France as James’ ambassador, so Kit spent very little time at home.  The ambassador needed a trustworthy man to carry messages home, and be there at his disposal should the need arise.  Kit had captained his own vessel then, but that was before Helena died.  He would have liked to take Helena with him to France, but it wasn’t possible.  He was in the service of the King and couldn’t bring along his wife.  No one could.  He got to see her from time to time, when Mr. Edmondes sent him back to England with important messages for the King. 

They never even had a child.  At thirty-two
, Kit was longing for a family, and knew he had to get over Helena before he could court another woman.  His sister, Lady Caroline Carew, harped on him incessantly about carrying on the family name and passing on the title, but he simply wasn’t ready.  She paraded eligible young ladies in front of him whenever he was in town, but no one had caught his eye.  They even argued when he visited her last Christmas. 

All he had wanted was a peaceful Christmas Eve with his only family, but it didn’t turn out that way.  The house was aglow with numerous candles
, servants scurrying around as they brought out dish after dish to the already laden table.  Strains of a festive tune played by a company of hired musicians floated from the hall, nearly drowned out by the hum of conversation.  Caroline was dressed in a maroon silk gown, worked with gems and shot with gold thread; her dark hair piled high on her head and adorned with bejeweled pins.  A dozen high-born couples were seated around the table, eating and drinking as Kit came in.  Caroline came over to greet him, her eyes sparkling with too much wine; a satisfied smile playing about her rouged lips.

“You look very well, Sister,” Kit said, kissing her on her smooth cheek. 

“Burying a husband and taking a young lover can have that affect,” she whispered into his ear, as she led him to his place on her right, next to Lady Leticia Hawthorne.  Caroline had just come out of mourning after her husband, Arthur, died the previous fall.  The young lover in question sat to his sister’s left, openly devouring her with his eyes.  Kit was surprised, but not shocked. 

Caroline had married Sir Arthur Carew when she was very young.  Her husband had been much older and afflicted with gout, but Caroline had to have her way.  He was as rich as Croesus
, and had the ear of the Queen and later the King, making Caroline one of the most influential women at Court.  Now Arthur was gone, and Caroline was free to live life as she pleased, as long as she did it discreetly; which she obviously needed lessons on.

Kit suffered through endless courses, followed by hours of dancing, and a masque prepared especially for the occasion by
some of the wives.  He secretly thought that the only purpose of the masque was for the ladies to wear provocative costumes, but the performance was a great success, greeted with wild applause by the much soused husbands.  It wasn’t until close to dawn that the guests finally began to disperse, stumbling out of the house toward their waiting carriages, manned by sleepy coachmen who had been left to wait all night in the bitter cold.

Kit joined his sister in a glass of wine after her guests left.  The house was quiet
at last, the only sounds coming from the wind blowing outside, and the crackling of the fire in the massive hearth.  Shadows danced across his sister’s face, hiding the little lines and blemishes of middle age.  She didn’t have much time left to enjoy herself, and she intended not to waste what was left to her.

“It
is high time you were married, Kit,” she said without preamble.  “It has been almost two years since Helena died.  You need a good woman to wipe that look of misery off your face and give you a son and heir.  What did you think of Lady Leticia?”

“I thought
Lady Leticia was overly fond of Lord Gainsborough, who is your lover if I am not mistaken.”  Caroline threw him a filthy look and took a sip of her wine.

“Don’t worry about Lord Gainsborough.  There are many more like him if you know where to look.  Now, let’s get back to your solitary state.  How long are you in town for before you hide yourself on some ship again?  You
’re not even the captain anymore.  What would father say?”

“I don’t mind being the quartermaster.  I am leaving in a week or two.” 

“Why don’t you call on Leticia tomorrow?  She would be happy to receive you.  I saw her looking at you.  Kit, she is young, wealthy, and comes from a prominent family.  All her female relations are very fertile.”

“That must be very gratifying for them.” 
Kit was quickly losing his patience.  He didn’t like Lady Leticia, and he liked his sister twisting his arm even less. 

“Caro, I am not going to call on Leticia or anyone else.  I don’t want to marry again right now and when I do, I will choose my own bride. 
I haven’t met anyone who can take Helena’s place and I likely never will, so leave me alone and go back to your own sordid affair.  I wonder what your sons think of your wanton behavior.” 

“My sons are too busy furthering their own ambitions to pay me any heed.  They would be only too happy for me to take an influential lover
, if it elevated their position at Court.  They are their father’s sons after all.  You are the only real family I have left, and I refuse to see you waste your life on mourning your insipid little wife.”

“I’ve heard enough.  Good night, Caroline.” 

Kit had risen from his chair, scraping it loudly against the stone floor, and strode from the room.  He hadn’t seen Caroline since, but he intended to call on her when he returned to England.  She might be a meddlesome harpy, but she was still his sister, and he missed her.

What really set him off
were not her matchmaking attempts, but the reference to his captaincy.  Kit had been a captain of his own vessel, which he renamed
Helena
after his wife passed.  It seemed that neither Helena was meant to survive.  He hated thinking of that awful day nearly a year ago, but Caroline reminded him of it, and it took over his mind, making his insides churn with grief and remorse. 

He had set sail from Marseille only two days before the great storm hit.  He should have seen the signs, should have set the course to avoid the eye of the storm, but he was eager to get home and thought they could ride it out.  He
was wrong.  Dead wrong.  The waves swelled to alarming heights as they battered the ship, nearly turning it over several times.  The wind howled, sounding like a wailing woman, as the sky wept rain and sleet.  The sailors cowered as thunder boomed with increasing frequency, the deck flooded by wave after wave crashing over the sides of the vessel. 

They might have made it if it
hadn’t been for the lightning.  The sky was nearly black, the jagged lines of lightning illuminating it with an eerie glow.  The air smelled of ozone and seaweed as a bolt of lightning hit the main mast.  Kit heard a wrenching crack that sent the mast over the starboard, tearing rigging, and tilting the ship until it was practically lying on its side.  Kit yelled for the crew to saw off the mast to keep it from dragging the ship down, but it was too late.  Wave after wave crashed over the floundering vessel, filling it with seawater, and dragging it down into its watery embrace.  The ship began to sink fast, forcing the crew to jump into the roiling sea to avoid being sucked down with the ship.

The water was freezing as it rolled over Kit’s head, filling his nose and mouth until he was choking. 
He struggled to keep his head above the surface, but the sea was a worthy opponent that day.  He didn’t stand a chance against the monstrous waves forcing him under.  Kit wasn’t sure who actually saved him, but he came to on a piece of wreckage bobbing on the heaving sea like a child’s toy. 

He’d
lost seven men that day.  The survivors had been lucky enough to be picked up by a passing ship once the storm abated, and taken back to England.  They had been in the frigid water for hours; most of them fevered by the time they were put ashore.  Kit meant to go home, but he was closer to Caroline’s residence in Russell Square, so he stumbled to her door, nearly falling as a servant answered his feeble knock.

Caro’s manservant had gotten him to bed, seeing his flushed face and unsteady gait.  Kit couldn’t even remember Caro coming into the room.  He was lost in
delirium, fighting a high fever that threatened his life.  Caroline had sat by his side throughout the night, applying cool compresses and trying to spoon water past his cracked lips.  He must have been raving, since she kept telling him to calm down and rest.  The fever broke by the fourth day; leaving him weak and confused.  Judging by the bowl and fleam on the nightstand, he must have been bled by the barber-surgeon, but Kit couldn’t remember.  He couldn’t remember anything, but the freezing water flooding his ship and sinking it in minutes. 

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Brother,” Caroline said as she took his hand, her face alight with happiness.  “I thought I’d lost you.  How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been in a shipwreck,” answered Kit, his attempt at humor sounding feeble even to himself.  “Can I have something to drink?”

Caroline held a cup of tepid beef broth to his lips and helped him drink.  It tasted strange, but Kit tried to drink it anyway, knowing he needed nourishment to get better.  Even the act of drinking left him exhausted
, as he sank against the pillows, drenched in cold sweat. 

“Promise me you’ll get better, Kitty
, and I will get you a girl,” Caroline said with a meaningful wink. 

“Caro, please don’t call me that.  I am no longer two
-years-old.”

“You will always be two to me,” she answered and fluffed her skirts.

“Is that why you are offering to procure whores for me?  I can barely hold a spoon, much less…” he trailed off, suddenly embarrassed to be having this conversation with his sister.  She had always had a healthy sexual appetite, carrying on with his tutor right under their father’s nose, but this was too much even for him.  He knew his sister hadn’t been faithful to her husband, but he truly didn’t want to know, and he didn’t want her bringing him harlots.  Sex wasn’t the answer to everything, at least not for him.

“Caro, I
do not want a woman.  I want my men back.  It’s my fault they drowned, entirely my fault.” 

“You
did not cause the storm, and you did your best to save your crew and the ship.  Stop talking gibberish.”  She adopted her “big sister knows better” look, forcing him to turn away.  She didn’t understand.  He didn’t cause the storm, but he could have avoided it had he not been such a fool.  Now his men were dead, his ship was gone, and he was lying here barely able to move his limbs; much less bed a woman.

“Some mutton, I think,” Caroline said, standing up and heading for the door.  “You need meat.  Try to sleep and I
’ll be back later.  No whores, I promise.”  Kit gave her a weak smile, grateful that at least he still had his Caro.

Eventually, he went to sea again, but not as a captain.  He signed on as a quartermaster, still retaining a position of authority and respect, but shirking the immediate responsibility of being the captain.  He wasn’t ready to hold men’s lives in his hands.  He knew he would in time, but not yet.  The voyage to the New World on the
Gloriana
was only his third trip since the shipwreck.

Meeting
Mistress Jamison had been a surprise.  When he heard about the passengers coming aboard, he was slightly annoyed.  Passengers meant complaints, requests, and the need for patience.  This lot was no different, except for her.  Her face came easily enough, and so did the unbidden image of her naked body.  Kit felt himself stir and flipped onto his stomach: tired, frustrated and aching with need.