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“She loves you. She is carrying your child, but Sara arranged for her to be abducted and sold. She won’t put her baby at risk.”
“I know Heather. She will not give up. She will try to find a way home to me. She knows I am nothing without her. She knows how much I want this child with her.”
John said nothing to this, and Godwin knew that his friend did not agree. They returned to Cornwall and to Captain John’s small estate.
Godwin’s nights were spent in dreaming and praying, “Let her be safe, let our child she now carries thrive. Let me one day see them both alive and well.”
Captain John, who watched over him, kept him occupied with other matters, helped him search for word that Heather Martin had managed to return to Cornwall, knowing this was something his friend would never get over.
Godwin visited the cottage daily, in the hopes that if she returned, she would go there.
More than a month went by, and they had discovered no further clues as to where Heather could be. Godwin sank into depression. “John, my life is over if her life is done.”
“I have been thinking, Godwin,” his friend said. “So hear me out. Heather and this young smuggler who helped her escape may have hidden themselves not on land, but on a docked vessel. It is possible that while they were being chased the two took refuge from her abductors on another boat.”
“Then why did she not get off that boat and find a way home to me?” Godwin shook his head. “Only death would keep her from me.”
“No, now and then, the fates do us unexpectedly. What if they were unable to get off this haven of a boat…what if it sailed and they were too frightened to immediately show themselves? Perhaps it is only time that keeps you apart. Perhaps she will still find a way?”
Space and fear for Heather had brought Godwin low. He believed his friend was merely trying to give him hope. “Thank you, John. I know what you are doing, but that is a farfetched notion. No. My heart is dead, my life is over,” Godwin said, and poured whiskey down his throat.
* * * * *
Summer’s warmth enveloped the Liberté as it sliced waves of dark blue. Heather stared at the white horses of the deep, turned away and leaned into the stern. Ahead, she could see the water’s shades become aquamarine.
She squealed to see dolphins swim near the boat as they played with one another. Oh, it would be all so glorious, would be so if only she were sailing back to Godwin. The comte had promised to help them and he was a good, kind man. She had no doubts on that score.
Their destination, she now knew, was Barbados, the isle of sugar cane and rum. Maurice had also told her it was the isle of song, of long sweet nights and gentle charms. He had told her it was a haven, and his sister had clapped her hands with excitement at the thought of such an isle after he had told his stories.
Heather’s sadness would have engulfed her had she not believed she would soon be traveling back home.
She had no interest in going to this tropical island, though she admitted some curiosity about such an exotic sounding place. Heather worried and wondered about Godwin and what he would think of her disappearance. Would he believe the words Sara had made her write?
Maurice and his sister had heard her tale in its entirety. Louise had exclaimed ‘mon dieu’ many times, and Maurice had once run a hand through his fine auburn hair and said, “Barbaric…”
Indeed, she had held nothing back. She had told them how she and Godwin had met, how unhappy Godwin had been, how Sara had cunningly tricked him into marriage. They knew it all and while she had believed they would hold her actions in contempt, call her a jade, they did not. They were completely sympathetic. Louise had, in fact, taken her into a passionate embrace and cried for her.
“Love…we French hold true love as all important,” Louise said. “We must right this wrong.”
Maurice had said nothing to this as he watched the two women put their heads together in sorrow.
His sister turned to him. “Is that not right, dear brother?”
“Of course,” he said at last. “We shall make arrangements for Miss Martin…our dear Heather, and her manservant, her Bunky,” he smiled sadly, “to return to England on the first passenger vessel available.” He inclined his head and said with a small smile, “This time as first class passengers, not stowaways.”
Heather smiled warmly as she squeezed Louise’s hand and gave him a thankful look. “Thank you. I will repay you as soon as I may.”
He waved this off impatiently. “Not necessary, my dear,” he said softly. “It is a simple thing, and I can well afford it.”
“I have discovered there is nothing simple about this life,” Heather said in a voice touched with bitterness.
“Indeed
, I quite agree, with all the multitudinous complexities, I am certain that is quite true. However, in this case, getting you home safely is a priority if that is what you wish. Money…my dear, is of no consequence,” he answered gently.
Heather could not stop worrying about Godwin and what Sara might have done during all the time that had fled by. She could not prove what Sara had done to her, which would leave Sara free to harm her again when she returned. Sara might even be wicked enough to harm her child when it was born on English soil? Oh, but it was all so complicated. Could Godwin keep her, their child, and himself safe from such a ruthless woman?
Then there was Bunky to consider. Sara was just the sort to do him harm for helping Heather escape. Her mind was full of thoughts and concerns that gave her no rest. At last, she silently decided she would have to put such notions aside or go mad.
