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Chapter Thirteen
As with every other departure of Elijah’s, today’s goodbye was heart-rending. Unlike the others, it was quite public.
On the way to England, for once Helen and Elijah had been partners, united in their goal and sharing in a day-to-day existence. Their responsibilities were different, but whenAlacritymaneuvered up the Thames, they’d arrived at this new place together. Now only Elijah and his crew were finishing their preparations on board the clipper this morning, and Helen returned to the familiar role—the familiar pain—of being left behind.
You wanted to remain, she reminded herself, gathering her cloak more tightly. Despite her distress, she gave a tremulous smile at the sight ofAlacrityfully dressed once more, her brightly colored signal flags almost jarring against the backdrop of the soot-tinged London sky, the brown brick of the port buildings, and the sludgy river. Stiff wind rippled through the huge American flag raised once more above the clipper’s stern. Elijah was following maritime tradition by flying a courtesy flag, a smaller British ensign, from the foremast, the mast closest to the bow.
Mr. Hughes, who had collected her this morning and accompanied her to the West India Docks, glanced at the row of men from the British Admiralty. “Do you think he’ll grant permission to the Lords Commissioners to board?”
They exchanged a look and laughed. Before today, Helen would have been certain of Elijah’s refusal, but with his good mood this week, she wasn’t sure.
Catching sight of a man approaching them in her periphery, Helen felt weightless with anticipation. Her eyes had been sweeping the crowds for Nicholas. Alas, a stranger greeted them.
Mr. Hughes dipped his head respectfully. “Good morning, Lord Anterleigh. I’m Nathan Hughes, a friend of Captain Miller’s. This is the captain’s sister, Mrs. Helen Gray.”
Even in her distracted state, surprise overtook Helen at the discovery that this tall, dark-haired man was David Chadbourne, owner of Nicholas Irons’s firm. His strapping physique seemed incongruous with the aristocracy, though not so his self-assured bearing, shiny black top hat, and tailored dark-blue coat.
She hadn’t the slightest idea how a proper British lady would greet the Earl of Anterleigh, nor was she concerned about it. Nodding and meeting his light-green eyes, she responded in kind to his pleasantries before all their gazes returned toAlacrity.
“A more magnificent and frightening ship I have yet to behold.”
Helen smiled at the Earl’s observation. “Your houseguest, Mr. Thomas, will occupy my former cabin. Let us hope he finds the ship as magnificent as you, but not as frightening.”
When Elijah had met the clergyman earlier in the week, he’d reported the widower to be witty and dark—and indifferent to the luxuries on board. She had a feeling they would get on well, far better than her brother had feared upon hearing the man was a curate.
A murmur moved through the line of Admiralty officials, and one of them pointed toAlacrity’sdeck. Squinting, Helen saw Nicholas emerge from the hatch—followed in succession by Sirena, Pen, and Vassilis.
Yet again, the breeze graced rather than disheveled Nicholas’s dark hair, and his lithe movements reminded her of how it felt to have his taut body near hers. After helping his mother and sister out of the hatch, he shaded his eyes and scanned the masses, pausing when he found her. She returned his wave, then covered her mouth, the memory of their kiss in the music room making her lips tingle.
A pent sigh of relief escaped Helen when Elijah sprang out from the hatch and followed the Siderises down the gangway. She had already regretted her insistence that his parting last night serve as their farewell. He had left to spend the night aboardAlacrity, and she had remained for one last night at the borrowed home of the American Legation’s Vice-Minister. A farewell away from prying eyes and the last-minute frantic shipboard preparations had sounded prudent; she wanted neither to distract him from his duties nor make a spectacle of herself with the fanfare at the docks.
Elijah had agreed with Nicholas about the value of promoting their venture to the press, so Nicholas had arranged for several journalists, including fromThe Times,to be permitted entry past Hibbert Gate, and they stood nearby, witnessing the historic sailing. The ever-present spectators outside the compound were audible over the wheels of the rumbling carts and wagons within the facility’s walls. As soon as the rumors ofAlacrity’sdeparture proved true this morning, many of the workers, from loaders to guards, also gathered to watch.
Pen caught sight of Helen from the gangway and waved, and Helen responded in kind, though she couldn’t match the young woman’s sparkling enthusiasm. She waved again at the elder Siderises when, arms joined, Sirena waved and Vassilis lifted his hand.
Elijah swaggered to Helen from the gangway, but tight lines bracketed his mouth. He placed a hand on her arm for just a moment before turning to his friend and clasping his hand. “Hughes.”
“Miller.”
Their words and gestures were sober, but Helen’s throat was so tight she could barely breathe as she observed the deep mutual gratitude and respect flowing between the two. Mr. Hughes had called yesterday, and both siblings expressed their thanks for his counsel and steadfastness.
After releasing her brother’s hand, the man stepped away, offering them privacy. Her tears could have been acid for how they burned as Elijah took her hands. They stared at each other until both of their grips tightened and Helen shook.
“This is the first damned time it’s ever felt right leaving you. I need you to know that. Every time I left Boston, Ihadto—but it tore my heart out.”
Trying not to sob, she answered, “I know.”
“I’ll see you in September, Helen, with the best damned tea leaves ever to leave China.” His mouth tightened. “If Idon’t…you won’t be destitute. Should anything happen to me, Hughes will—”
“No!” Shaking her head urgently, Helen fought his words as much as she struggled against the heavy sense of doom closing in. Usually impervious to superstition, now she couldn’t deny the feeling that Elijah’s dark words were dangerous.
“There’s not much time. I must leave, so you have to listen. Hughes will marry you if need be. Go to him if anything happens. Do you understand?”
Her angry huff was visible in the cold February air. “Marry!”
“Yes.” He looked as sick over the thought as he was stubborn. She was about to argue when his desperate voice begged quietly. “Please.”
Flames of anger enveloped her. Once more, Elijah felt guilty and expected her to comfort him— and again, she did whatever was needed for him to depart with as much peace as possible.
