“Off to America we’ll be soon, then,” Mr. Abram told William every morning, cheerful and smiling. “And with an extra few coins in our pockets, besides. But a few more days until we set sail, eh?”
More like weeks, in truth, but William never corrected the old man. Indeed, William tried to think of the departure as little as possible. What would it be like to be oceans away from her? To know that he would never chance upon her someday, or overhear someone speaking her name?
He had wanted to leave it all behind and forget everything.
He was just uncertain he was ready to forget her. Would he ever be ready? He had been a fool to let this happen. All along, he knew she could never belong to him. Why, then, had he allowed his heart to fall in love with the impossible?
When they rowed deeper into the sea to the fishing grounds, William scooted to the end of the boat and attached his hook to the handline. He baited it with capelin, tossed it into the water, then tugged the line up and down to lure in cod.
“Deuce it, fellow, what claptrap,” Mr. Sneyd exclaimed. “You’ll not talk the likes of me into going to America.”
Mr. Abram chuckled. “Mighty lot of land, there be.”
“What the devil a bloke like me wants land for? I’ve fish to take to the market every Friday, and me finks I’m more loyal to crown and country than that.” Mr. Sneyd hauled a cod into the boat, uttering a minced oath. “Besides, I couldn’t go if I wanted to.”
“Why not?”
“Back shore yonder, there’s a woman I’m yoked to. She’s as plain as a smoothed-out groat and even less agreeable, but I gots an inkling I could never leave her and be happy.”
Leave her.William dragged in a cod of his own, the slime fouling his hands the same time a repugnant taste filled his mouth. He would go to America. He would start over.
But the old fisherman spoke truth.
William had no hope of ever being happy again.
“If I may presume upon your conscience, Miss Gresham, I must say it is quite time you cease this languishing about. If you continue to ignore your letters and refuse callers, you shall become known as an invalid. What sort of lady would people think you then?”
Isabella hardly cared what people thought.
Her indifference must have been clear on her face, for Mrs. Morrey’s shoulders deflated as she marched closer to the bed. She fluffed the pillow next to Isabella. “I had to try, if not for your own sake, at least for your father’s. This ordeal has quite left its mark on him.”
Isabella sat straighter. “He is not yet returned, is he?”
“Yes. Late last night.”
“No one told me.”
“We were asked not to.” Mrs. Morrey took a step back and lifted her chin. “It is rather a frightful thing when a father is afraid to face his own daughter.”
Hewas afraid? What did they all imagine Isabella had been these past weeks? Pulling the counterpane away from her legs, Isabella pushed herself to a sitting position. Sweat cooled the back of her neck. “Was there … anyone with him?”
Mrs. Morrey frowned. “No. There was not.” Turning to Bridget, the housekeeper instructed the maid to select a gown from the wardrobe, heat the papillote iron, and prepare a fresh basin of water. “The very least you can do is look presentable when you greet your father for dinner. I shall tell him to expect you, Miss Gresham.”
Isabella did not argue, but an involuntary shiver worked through her. She was not certain she could face Father. She was not certain she could face the news that she would never see William Kensley again.
William leaned against the wall beside the window, glancing out to the port below. TheRoyal Montaguebobbed in the crowded blue water, surrounded by small crafts ferrying cargo from the moorings to the wharves. Shouts, sloshing waves, and whistling wind all hummed in his ears like a discordant note. How was the day so near upon him already?
Behind, the chamber door thudded. “Been down to the market to buy us this.”
William turned as Mr. Abram unpacked currants, two meat puddings, and a peck of oysters from his leather knapsack.
“All this for two shillings and three pence.” He gleamed up at William. “Sort o’ a celebration, it be.”
William tried to smile, lest he spoil the man’s excitement, but his stomach churned at the thought of food—and what awaited them on the morrow.
“I know you be nervous.” Mr. Abram walked to William and clapped a hand on his back. They both faced the window, staring out at the square-rigged ship in the distance. “ ’Tis not easy for a man to leave all he knows.”
Tomorrow, the masts would be billowing with wind. The anchor would be hoisted. The shoreline would fade away behind them.
