Chapter Twelve

Lessons of Life and Love

Elena and Willa, followed by several girls, ran from the kitchen garden onto the back porch of the farmhouse. A sudden rain arriving on a brisk wind had caused them all to scurry rapidly to the porch, where they collapsed laughing on the creaking boards. Willa threw open the door to the kitchen, and the girls, remembering their manners, stood aside to let their teachers pass.

It was late September, and Miss Bellwood’s School for Girls had been in operation for three weeks. During that period, it had evolved that Willa would spend one day per week at the farm teaching walking and posture. This was extremely valuable to Elena, for it gave her a chance to tackle the mountain of papers that seemed always piled on her desk. It had the added advantage of keeping Willa safe for one day from the frequent visits of the Duke of Simsbury. Throughout the summer, he had become Willa’s serious suitor, to everyone’s astonishment. Willa, now just eighteen, viewed him as quite middle-aged. She was in awe of him, but to his attentions, she was, so far, impervious.

Elena settled herself at her desk. At least Willa’s heart seemed less devoted to Captain James Scott than it had been. The girl was too young to wed, and Elena had never observed any symptom of love on Captain Scott’s side, on the rare occasions that they saw him.

Her own heart was as confused as ever. Ben Garrick, accompanied by Drs. Garson and Soames, had gone off to Boston in July to attend their seminar and meet with fellow astronomers to compare findings. She was very surprised that two months later he was still away. Megan had received a few letters from him, and she hinted to Elena and Rosalie that he was very busy and not sure when he would return.

Rosalie was forthright in her assessment of the situation. “He’s trying to control his feelings for you, Elena. I advise you to come to an understanding of them yourself before he returns. This limbo the two of you occupy is not a good situation.”

Elena was fretful. “How on earth am I to do that? One day, I feel one way; the next day, I feel the opposite.”

As she began her paperwork on that rainy afternoon, she tried hard to push all thoughts of Ben from her mind. In all honesty, running a school had turned into a more arduous task than she had envisioned. Acquiring students had been the easy part, for her school had no competition in the area. But her constant concerns about adequate foodstuffs, the procurement of educational materials, the health and safety of the girls, making provision of wood, coal, and food for the winter, and the nearly constant supervision of fifteen young ladies had taken their toll on her energy and patience.

Elena leaned back and sighed. She was about to check her bank account statement, an activity that always cheered her, when heavy footsteps sounded, followed by a knock on the office door.

She opened the door, and to her utter amazement Ben was standing there. She seized breath to greet him, but words were somehow beyond her. He stood still and simply stared at her. On his visage was an expression she could not define, but a thrill ran through her body and her face reddened in a blush.

“I-I…” she stammered, trying to appear rational, “I am so very pleased to see you.” She could say no more. His eyes were glowing with a strange and dangerous light as they gazed into hers. He stepped forward, and her breath caught. She seized the edge of the desk to halt herself from leaping into his arms.

Ben tore his gaze from her, gave a slight bow, and stepped aside to admit his friends. Dr. Garson and Dr. Soames stepped forward, each eager to greet her with a hearty handshake and the smiles of real pleasure.

“My dear doctors!” she cried, grasping the opportunity to quell her own emotions. “I’m so very glad to see you. I hope your visit to Boston was pleasant and productive.”

“It was indeed,” replied Garson, “but we’re pleased to be among our friends in Mystic again, though it be only for a short time.”

“A short time? What do you mean?”

Ben answered her question. “Elena, I’m very sad to report that my two comrades here have bought passage on the Margarita Lane, and she’s boarding in two days.”

“What! No, Dr. Garson, Dr. Soames, you can’t leave before Megan’s wedding!”

Dr. Soames smiled. “I assure you, my dear, if we could stay, nothing would be more delightful. But our labors call us home.”

“To say nothing of Mrs. Soames!” Liam Garson laughed. “She’s threatening divorce if my dear colleague does not return soon.”

Elena seized a hand of each man. “It will not be the same here when you’re gone. Will you return next summer?”

“It may be possible,” Garson replied, “but I hope to see you before then.”

“Me! How could you possibly see me?”

The three men glanced at each other. Dr. Soames ahemed and said, “Come, Garson, let us teach the schoolgirls a bit of science.”

“Let’s do!” agreed Dr. Garson. “Pray excuse us, Miss Bellwood.” They scurried away.

Ben did not speak. He walked past her into the office and shut the door. He reached for her, and the surprise of his advance gave her no time to escape. She was in his arms, and he was kissing her before she had time to draw breath.

His arms about her and his mouth on hers made her light-headed and weak-kneed from the pleasure. Having no will to resist him, she did not try. He seized her head in his hands and let his lips wander to her neck and breasts. She moaned as his mouth moved lower, afraid but wanting and longing.

Panting, he suddenly stopped himself and held her tight against him. “God, I want you,” he whispered. “I can’t bear this raging desire much longer.”

Elena gasped as she whispered, “I-I feel the same.”

“Do you? How I have prayed to hear you say those words.”

“What shall we do?” she breathed. “How can we control—?”

“Elena, we must marry. For the love of God, say you’ll marry me. Say yes and put an end to my suffering.”

He gripped her shoulders and held her slightly away so he could see her face. His dark eyes seemed to pierce her soul as they gazed deeply into hers. His voice was hoarse with passion as he whispered, “Marry me, Elena.”

“Yes,” she breathed, barely able to speak. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer. Unable to resist, she raised her head and sought his lips. For a few minutes, they were lost to everything but their need for each other.

Finally, he found it necessary to push her gently away and walk about the room to collect himself. She collapsed into a chair, red-faced and breathing hard.

He faced her. “We must marry soon, for if you’re unable to halt my lovemaking, I will soon be unable myself.”

She nodded, completely aware that he was right. “I only hope,” she whispered, raising her eyes to his, “you’ll not soon feel you have made a mistake.”

He smiled. “We will no doubt have times when one or the other of us will feel that way. But I can promise you one thing: I will never curtail your freedom or try to make you less than you are. And you must be the same with me. I will never be a dandy spending idle summers in France. I will always be a studier of astronomy, and you must accept me as I am.”

He was serious, and she did not smile. “I promise.”

“I love you, Elena. I’ll be a good husband, come what may.”

“I love you too,” she replied. “I tried not to…but one cannot control one’s heart.”

He reached for her again, but sounds outside the door caused him to drop his hands and step away from her.

“You had better go,” she whispered.

“Walk outside with me. If we wait on the porch for Garson and Soames, we’ll be forced to behave ourselves.”

They stood together on the porch. Elena was about to speak when she saw a man walking down the lane toward the house.

“That man!” she whispered. “Everywhere I go I see him staring at me.”

Ben shaded his eyes and gazed at the man, who had stopped walking at the sight of them. “I’m not sure, but it looks like the man whose name is the same as someone Rosalie knew a long time ago.”

“Do you mean Andrew Reed?”

“Yes. He’s here on business, I suppose. You say he has been staring at you?”

“It seems that way. Perhaps I’m mistaken.”

He smiled. “It hardly seems surprising that a man would stare at you.”

She shook her head. “He doesn’t stare in that way. He stares at me as if I were some species of animal he could not quite identify.”

He took her hand and kissed it. “You are certainly a species I have never run across before; no species in the past has inspired me to beg for matrimony.”

She smiled saucily. “Beware of what you wish for, wise men say.”

He laughed. “A man in love is never afraid—or wise. I’ll call on Rosalie this evening.”

“My aunt will be delighted at your news.”

“I believe you are right.”

Drs. Garson and Soames then appeared and after several minutes of pleasurable chat followed by fond farewells, the three men departed. Before returning inside, Elena glanced up the lane. Mr. Reed was only a speck in the distance as he trudged away from the house. Why on earth had he been coming here? And why did he turn back?

****

The village of Mystic was soon abuzz with the news of Dr. Benjamin Garrick and Miss Elena Bellwood’s engagement. Ben had urged her to marry immediately, but Elena’s sense of propriety and duty to her aunt prevailed. “Besides,” she told him, “your sister’s wedding has been planned for a year, and we would be highly discourteous to marry first.”

Ben shook his head. “I can’t for the life of me understand why Megan and Edward have had such a long engagement. What would prevent their marrying immediately?”

Elena did not understand it either, but she said nothing. Megan and Edward seemed more like good friends than lovers. But perhaps that was what suited them.

She, on the other hand, could think of nothing but her wedding night. She shivered with anticipation and fear as she thought of it, and she thought of it night and day. She would be his to do with as he desired, and if his passion now were any indication, he would desire a great deal.

One evening, when they were together in Rosalie’s parlor and Rosalie had stepped out of the room, she spoke her fears to him. “Ben…”

“Yes, my love.” He took her hand and kissed it.

“I-I…have a bit of trepidation…a little fear…”

“Of your wedding night?” he whispered.

“Yes. One hears terrible things. But you will be gentle…will you not?”

“No,” he whispered, squeezing her hand and grinning wickedly. “And I don’t really think you want me to be.”

She blushed and pushed him away. “You are ungovernable, and I can never get a serious word out of you.”

“I can’t think seriously. I’m too deliriously happy to have a coherent thought.”

Rosalie re-entered the room with Bramble ambling behind her. She poured fresh tea and set a plate of cakes on the table. Elena looked at Bramble’s expectant face and thumping tail.

“My darling Bramble,” she cooed. “Do you want Elena to give you a cake?”

Rosalie and Ben smiled at each other, recalling the winter evening when Elena had first met the wolf.

“Thanks to you, my dear niece, Bramble has grown plump.”

“I’m sorry,” Elena replied, “but just look at his eyes. Who could say no to him?” She seated herself on the floor next to the wolf and fed him a cake. Bramble did not grab for each morsel but took it carefully from her hand.

“He is the gentlest creature in the world,” said Elena. “How is it possible that wolves have such a terrible reputation as fearsome beasts?”

“They are carnivores,” Ben replied. “When they hunt in packs, they are fearsome indeed. But you have heard the expression ‘a wolf is safe among wolves.’ To Bramble, we’re his pack, not his prey.”

“He’s quite fearsome when it comes to the rabbits on the farm,” said Rosalie. “I know it is his natural inclination to hunt, but I do feel for the little creatures as he kills and devours them.”

“His behavior is no different from ours. We break the necks of chickens and devour them, to say nothing of cattle, sheep, hogs, fish…”

“Stop!” cried Elena. “Must you always be the scientist? I don’t want to think or talk about such things.”

“Very well. Let’s talk of something more pleasant. I want you to set a wedding date.”

“But we agreed to wait until Megan and Edward return from their honeymoon.”

Ben shrugged. “Megan has put off the wedding again. If we wait for those two to marry, my love, I might well be too old to carry you across the threshold!”

“Has she indeed?” asked Rosalie. “That does not augur well. Something is amiss.”

“I agree,” said Ben, “but Megan won’t tell me.”

“Perhaps,” said Elena, “she would tell me what’s wrong. Should I broach the subject with her?”

“Please do. In all honesty, I’m rather concerned about her, and Edward too.”

“I’ll call on her tomorrow.”

“And now,” said Ben, rising and pulling Elena from the floor. “I want a wedding date.”

“Why not next week?” said Rosalie. “This beautiful fall weather is perfect for a wedding trip. Willa can run the shop, Elena, and I’ll take over at the school. Megan might consent to assist me.”

Elena felt the now-familiar thrill jet through her body at the thought of being married in a few days. She blushed and covered her embarrassment by pouring tea for herself.

“Elena?” said Ben. “Next week has been suggested. Does it suit you? Edward, I’m sure, will be very accommodating as to the day and time.”

“Poor fellow,” said Rosalie. “It will be difficult for him to pronounce wedding vows on the two of you when his own plans have been derailed once again.”

“Yes,” agreed Ben, “but that’s not my concern right now. I won’t allow my sister’s indecisiveness to forestall my own happiness.”

Elena glanced at him, and the sight of his upright figure and handsome face made her blush once again. She wanted him so. She must marry him, for she wanted him so.

Rosalie and Ben were awaiting her answer. She grinned. “Next week suits me very well.”

Ben seized her in his arms and danced her about the floor, while she screeched and Rosalie giggled.

“You are outrageous!” she cried when he released her. “I truly must focus on making you into a gentleman when you’re my husband!”

“I wish you well with that plan,” he replied, laughing. He clasped her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead. Elena slapped him away.

“Go home, Ben, before you embarrass me further in front of my aunt!”

Ben went out the door whistling. Elena fell into her aunt’s arms and found that her tears were falling. “Oh, Aunt Rosalie, I must be the luckiest woman in the world to be loved by Ben Garrick!”

****

Elena performed her teaching duties the next morning and walked to the Garrick farm to call on Megan. Finding no one at home, she walked back, harnessed the horse to the gig, and drove to town. Megan was not in any of her usual places—the shop, the tearoom, the greengrocer, or the dressmaker—so Elena left the horse in Rosalie’s back garden and walked toward the harbor to see if she might spot her friend taking a stroll along the wharves. It was a beautiful fall day, warm and hazy as only October can be in New England. She strolled along a dirt path that bordered the river, admiring the silvery water and the graceful ships dancing slowly on its surface. Maple trees along the shore displayed scarlet leaves, and the calm surface of the river reflected every color. An amber-leafed weeping willow spread a graceful arbor over the pathway.

As she approached the wooden pier where Ben’s ships were berthed, she saw a man and woman standing together at the farthest point of the pier. She was too far away to identify them, and yet she felt sure the man was James Scott. Her first thought was that the woman must be Willa.

She sped up her approach, waving as she went on. At first, they did not see her, and as she walked quickly onward, she saw the man take the woman in his arms and hold her. She blushed at the sight, thinking she had stumbled on an intimate moment and should turn back. But then they parted, and the woman applied a handkerchief to her eyes. The woman was Megan.

James saw her then and waved her toward them. “Miss Elena,” he said as she reached them, “I am mightily glad to see you. I must get to sea, and Miss Garrick is sorely in need of a friend.”

“Megan, my dear, what is the matter?” asked Elena, frowning at the sight of her friend’s tearful face.

Megan shook her head and covered her eyes with her handkerchief. Elena turned to James. “Captain Scott, please feel free to go about your duties. I’ll see to Miss Garrick.”

“Aye, thank you, miss.” He patted Megan on the arm. “It will all be well, Miss Garrick, you will see.”

James jumped aboard the sturdy ketch Gremlin, and Elena carefully led Megan from the pier. Saying nothing, she conducted her to a stone bench and seated herself next to her friend.

“Now, my dear,” she coaxed. “You must tell me what has engendered these tears. What on earth can have happened to upset you so?”

Megan stared at the ground as she replied. “I’ll tell you…as difficult as it will be to do so.”

Elena silently waited for her friend to draw breath and begin.

Megan turned her teary face to Elena and looked directly into her eyes. “What I have to say may shock you,” she began, “but you are engaged to my brother and…”

Megan hesitated and Elena whispered calmly, “You may tell me whatever you want, Megan. I will never repeat your words to Ben or anyone.”

“I know,” Megan replied, “but what I meant is, you are about to wed. You may have little knowledge of one certain circumstance of marriage and have given no thought to it.”

“You cannot mean marital love,” said Elena with a blush, “for surely you do not think me that naïve.”

“No. I mean children. Have you ever wondered why some women have ten or twelve children and others have two or three?”

“I-I thought such things were all chance…”

Megan shook her head. “No, they are not chance. Some men use a…device…to prevent their wives from becoming with child.”

Elena was indeed shocked. “A device! What sort of device?”

“Ssshhh! The use of such a thing is highly illegal.”

Elena was beginning to think her friend was suffering a mental breakdown of some sort. She squeezed Megan’s hand and implored her to be specific. “I confess, Megan, I have no idea what you’re describing.”

“I must be frank, forgive me. The truth is a man can wear a sack made of sheep gut when he lies with his wife. This will prevent her becoming pregnant.”

Elena was more confused than ever. “A sack made of sheep gut? Where does the man wear it, and how does it affect his wife’s fertility?”

Megan smiled despite herself. “He pulls it onto his member before he makes love to his wife.”

Elena blushed scarlet.

Megan continued, “The little sack catches the fluid produced by the man, and this prevents a child from forming in the woman.”

“Good heavens!” whispered Elena. “I had no idea of such things!”

“You have had no one to tell you. Your mother is dead, and your aunt is a single woman.”

“But…Megan, why has this circumstance upset you so?”

Megan sighed. “Everyone is wondering why I keep postponing my wedding, but that is the reason. I love Edward, but men of God—clergymen, that is—believe it is a sin to use the little sack. They will not do it.”

“Oh!” cried Elena. “And you are afraid of having a great many children!”

“Yes, or dying in childbirth before I’m thirty!”

Elena was speechless. Of all the circumstances that might cause Megan to postpone her wedding, this was one she had never considered. And she herself faced the same situation. She did not want to bear a child right away, and she certainly did not want to be a mother to more than two or three…but how did Ben feel about it? Did he agree with Edward?

They sat side by side, each deep in thought. Finally, Elena asked, “How did you learn about this?”

“My mother told me. When I became engaged to Edward, she had a very frank talk with me.”

“And did you discuss it with Edward?”

“I did,” Megan whispered, once again wiping away tears. “It was a very difficult subject to broach, but I did broach it. We both found to our distress we felt completely the opposite from each other. We have discussed it many times, but neither of us will yield.”

“You should not yield!” Elena immediately answered. “He must consider your feelings in this matter.”

Megan nodded. “He is a very good man, Elena, but he is religious. My mother tried to talk me out of the engagement because she fears highly religious people. I think I told you once before that I was raised in a liberal, educated family. Liberal thinkers, you may have noticed, tend to temper their religious beliefs in favor of provable, scientific facts.”

“Yes, I can certainly see that in Ben, and the British scientists as well.”

“My dear,” said Megan, taking her hand, “you must discuss this with Ben. I feel sure that he will want to protect you and accede to your wishes, but it’s well to be clear on this issue before your wedding.”

Elena nodded. “But it will not be an easy conversation…and he will want to know where I gained my knowledge.”

“You have my permission to share our conversation with him. I would have told him eventually myself, but I wanted to wait until I had made my decision.”

“Your decision?”

“Yes, to break my engagement to Edward.”

Elena felt the prick of her own sad tears. “Oh, Megan, I am so sorry!”

“I am also. But it must be done. I can’t marry him.”

There seemed nothing more to be said. They rose from the bench and walked slowly toward the town. When they neared the shop, Elena asked Megan to come in and rest, but her friend refused. “I’m going to the parsonage,” said Megan. “I must get this done while my courage is high and my spirit is resolute.”

“Shall I call on you at the farm this evening?”

“Yes, I should like that very much.”

Before harnessing the horse and returning to the farm, Elena walked to the baker’s to purchase apple tarts as a treat for the schoolgirls. As she entered the shop, inhaling the delightful aroma of baking bread, she came face to face with the strange, elusive Mr. Reed, who was about to exit. They both stopped and stared at each other for an instant; then Elena gave a slight curtsey and attempted to slip past him. To her surprise, he spoke her name. His voice was surprisingly soft, and as she turned toward him, she saw a look of kindness in his eyes. She had never been this close to him, and she was surprised to see, although he had a rather weather-beaten appearance—as though he had been a great deal at sea—he was a handsome man and his demeanor was quiet and gentlemanly.

“Miss Bellwood?” he inquired.

“Yes, I am Elena Bellwood.”

“I wonder if I might have a word with you. Would you take tea with me in that little café across the way?”

Elena hesitated at the notion of sitting in public with a man unrelated to her, with no chaperone. She was not even acquainted with him. “I-I suppose I could spare a few minutes, sir, but let us go to the Book & Candle. We can sit upstairs in my aunt’s parlor.”

“No, no,” he stammered. “I would not want to be observed by Miss Murdoch.”

Elena stared at him, and her scalp prickled. What on earth was this man about, and who was he? She was tempted to simply say good day to him and go about her business, but her curiosity got the better of her caution.

“Sir,” she began, “I cannot comprehend what you would want to discuss with me, but if you’re unwilling to be perceived by my aunt, let us step into the tearoom, as you suggest. However, I feel an explanation is due on that score before any other discussion.”

He bowed his acquiescence and conducted her in his quiet, careful manner across the busy street. They entered the little shop and procured a corner table. Mr. Reed ordered tea after inquiring politely as to her preferences.

They did not speak until the waiter had departed. Elena sipped her tea and looked up at him. He was staring at her in the way that he had, as if he had never seen anything like her.

He realized his staring was rude and focused his eyes on his teacup. “You must think me a great fool…” he began.

“No indeed. I don’t even know you. In fact, it might be a good beginning for you to introduce yourself to me.”

“Yes, but even the introduction could be fraught with…with—but I must be candid, whatever is the result.”

“Please do be candid, before my curiosity destroys me like the proverbial cat!”

He smiled. “Very well. Where should I begin? Perhaps at the very beginning would be best. My name, Miss Bellwood, is Andrew Reed, Captain Andrew Reed—”

“Captain!”

“Yes, does that surprise you?”

“Well, I…my aunt knew a Captain Reed a long time ago. Are you…are you—?”

“Yes, I am the same Andrew Reed who wanted to marry Miss Rosalie Murdoch.”

Elena was shocked into silence and simply stared at him. Her eyes traveled over his handsome face, surrounded by thick, curly gray hair. His eyes were hazel and bore a look of sadness as though he had suffered a terrible tragedy.

“But my aunt told me you had died!”

His eyes widened, and it was his turn to be struck dumb by shock. He took a breath and stammered, “Told you I had died!”

“Indeed! She said your first mate wrote her and conveyed the news that you had died of a fever in a foreign port! She was devastated and even after all these years continues to suffer from the loss!”

To Elena’s surprise, Captain Reed jumped up and paced back and forth next to the table. “Dear God!” he muttered. “It has all been her doing! A mistake, a terrible, tragic mistake—”

“Captain Reed, I implore you, be seated and continue your story!”

He sat but, instead of speaking, buried his face in his hands and sobbed. Elena desperately signaled to the waiter.

“This gentleman is ill. Do you have a room in the back where he might sit and recover himself?”

The waiter nodded. He took Reed’s arm and helped him rise. Elena followed them through the swinging double doors at the back of the shop into a small kitchen. The waiter indicated an alcove with a curved window seat that looked out on the herb garden in the back yard.

“You’ll not be disturbed here, miss.”

Captain Reed sank onto the seat, pulled forth a handkerchief and wiped his face. “I am sorry,” he whispered, “but the shock…I have been a fool, and I’m not the only one who has suffered.”

Elena waited silently. For the second time in one day, she sat quietly waiting to hear a secret communication from a suffering person. Good heavens, this was a day she would not soon forget!

“Can you start at the beginning, Captain Reed?” she coaxed.

“Yes. I can and must.”

Elena waited again. Her heart was beating strangely, almost as though it already knew the tale she had not yet heard.

Captain Reed gathered his strength and began his story. “Miss Bellwood—may I call you Elena?”

“Certainly.”

“You already know, Elena, that I wanted to marry Rosalie. I surmise she informed you of that herself.”

“Yes.”

“It all began in the year 1820 when a bitterly cold winter kept my ship in port for several months. I became friendly with a good man named Charles Murdoch and, by extension, with his wife and daughters. They were a happy, kind-hearted, clever family, and I liked all of them.

“As time went on, I became increasingly interested in the younger daughter, Rosalie.” He sighed. “How can one explain love? It strikes like a bolt of lightning, and suddenly one’s whole world is different.”

“So it does,” agreed Elena. “So it does indeed.”

“In time, I expressed my feelings to Rosalie and found to my joy that my love was reciprocated. I spoke with her father, who, I believe, had wished me to choose his elder daughter. But I could not love Miriam. To me, no one on earth could compare to Rosalie.”

“I can understand that,” said Elena. “She is a most remarkable and wonderful person.”

“She is. She is all that and more. We formed an engagement. I wanted to be married right away, but she convinced me to wait a year so her sister could recover from her own affection for me, which was stronger—alas!—than anyone knew.”

“Were you aware that my mother loved you?”

“Your mother? Oh, forgive me, of course, Miriam was your mother. Should I go on with my story? Some of the circumstances regarding her could very well be difficult for you to hear.”

Elena felt a thrill of painful foreboding, but she replied, “Please go on.”

“Very well. To answer your question, yes, I was aware of her feelings. She did not keep her emotions to herself, and her anger took away much of the joy of the Murdoch family when Rosalie and I became engaged.

“A few days before I sailed for the Far East, Miriam slipped out of her father’s house unnoticed, walked all the way to town, and confronted me in my cabin. She was in a rage and accused me of toying with her affections. I was impatient to get her off the ship and was not as kind or understanding as I should have been.”

“What a terrible scene!” whispered Elena, thinking with sympathy of her poor mother.

“Indeed! When I had listened for quite some time to her tirade, I ordered her to go ashore and leave me in peace. In the throes of her incoherent anger, she seized a small knife from my work table and attempted to stab me—”

“Good lord!”

“She cut my arm and I grabbed for the knife, but she bolted out of the cabin and up the ladder to the deck. I ran after her, but she reached the pier before I could catch her. She stopped on the pier and turned back to me, and the rage on her face made her nearly unrecognizable. I stopped also and implored her to bury her anger and accept the fact that I loved her sister.”

The image of a small knife saved in a chest in her mother’s bedroom made Elena shiver. She knew now whose knife her mother had preserved all these years.

Captain Reed poured more tea and paused to let his emotions subside. He looked at Elena with concern. “Are you quite all right, Elena?”

She nodded. “Please continue, sir.”

“The day we were to sail, my mate became ill and was forced to stay behind. I hired the first willing man I could find, a farm worker named Tom Hatten. He had been employed by Rosalie’s father but had been dismissed for some infraction that he swore he was innocent of. He was keen to go to sea and make his fortune, and he was strong and hale so I took him on.

“As I bade goodbye to my beloved Rosalie and her family and prepared to board ship and set sail, I saw Hatten speaking with Miriam. They were standing on the pier a little apart from the others and as I glanced in their direction, I saw a movement of her hand as if she surreptitiously passed something to him.”

“What on earth could she have given him?”

“At the time, I had no idea. But I suspect now that she gave him money in exchange for his promise to write a false letter to Rosalie.”

Elena needed a few moments to absorb this chilling fact, but then her mind raced ahead.

“But even if this Hatten person wrote a letter to Aunt Rosalie claiming you had died, that would not have prevented you from returning to Mystic. But you have stayed away all these years.”

“That was my tragic error,” he whispered, “and I will despise myself forever for it.”

“Then why—?”

“Elena, I also received a letter. It was written in dear Rosalie’s hand, and the news it brought broke my heart. She declared herself mistaken in her feelings. She regretted entering into an engagement with me. She withdrew from it.”

Elena stared at him. She was utterly, completely speechless. Only one person could have imitated Rosalie’s handwriting well enough to fool her lover…Miriam!

Gasping for breath, she finally managed to whisper, “My mother…”

He nodded. “I committed the greatest mistake of my life when I took this letter as Rosalie’s word. I should have journeyed here immediately and learned the truth for myself.”

Elena stood up and walked about. He watched her with concern in his gentle face. She glanced at him. He appeared strangely calm now as if some mental dam in his mind had broken and he could perceive a new reality.

Finally, she seated herself and regarded him closely. “Captain Reed, you have been here for two or three months. Why have you not called on my aunt?”

He shook his head. “Pride…and anger.”

“Anger because you thought she had broken the engagement?”

He shifted in his seat and calmly watched her face. She shivered and pulled her shawl tight about her shoulders.

Captain Reed took her hand and held it. “No, Elena,” he said slowly, “not anger that she broke the engagement. Anger that she gave—that she gave our child to—that she gave away our child.”

Elena stared unseeingly, and in that instant, flashes of thought raced through her mind. She struggled to quell them, to think rationally. His hand was holding hers tightly, but she managed to pull away.

“What on earth are you talking about? My aunt has no child.”

He regarded her, his hazel eyes looking deeply into hers. She tried to suppress the crazy thought that his eyes were the same color as hers. She shifted around on the seat. She stood and paced, barely aware of what she was doing.

“I-I must be going.”

“Elena,” he said softly. “You can’t run away from the truth.”

But Elena ran. She turned abruptly and hurried through the kitchen, nearly colliding with the waiter. She ran through the tearoom, ignoring the startled glances of the patrons. Reaching the street, she raced to the only sanctuary she could think of—the Book & Candle.

Willa looked up in surprise as Elena slammed into the shop and ran up the stairs. Her aunt had gone to the Morgan home, and Elena was glad. Right now, she wanted only solitude—solitude to think or not think, to understand or to deny. The truth was hammering in her brain and her heart, but she could not face it. “No!” she cried out loud. “No, no, no!”

She paced about the parlor, so filled with trepidation and anxiety she was quaking. She pulled open the liquor cabinet to pour a glass of sherry but then slammed it shut again. She would not dull her senses with sherry; she must think. She must think clearly.

She forced herself to sit, but it would not do. She was soon pacing again, for only movement gave her feelings any relief. Then her eye fell upon Rosalie’s desk, and the tidy piles of correspondence thereon reminded her of something. She had taken a packet of letters from her mother’s bedroom before leaving New York. She had never looked at them, but now…if she could find the courage to read them, she might learn the terrifying truth and be forced to face it.

She ran into her bedroom and pulled boxes willy-nilly from her closet, tossing the contents all over the room. At length, she found what she was seeking, a thin packet of letters bound in a blue ribbon. She threw herself on the bed and tore the ribbon off; then she jumped up and slammed the bedroom door and locked it. She did not want to see her aunt; she could not face seeing her.

Elena’s heart gradually ceased its hammering, and her brain began to recover from its first shock. She forced herself to slow down. She arranged the pillows on the bed and sat back against the headboard. She took a deep breath…and opened the packet.

The letters were not arranged by date, so she looked through until she found the earliest one, dated June 15, 1821. She unfolded it slowly and glanced at the signature. Then she began to read.

Dearest Miriam,

I am sorry to repay your kindness by causing you pain, but I must withdraw from our arrangement. I have spent the past week in tears feeling that I would surely die of a broken heart. To lose Andrew in such a horrible way and then to give up our child…it is too much for me.

I don’t have funds sufficient to travel to New York, but I trust that you care enough for me to send me money for the journey. Mother and Father are not the least bit suspicious. They believe Elena to be your child; our ruse worked very well. There will be no need to enlighten them if I also live in New York.

I’ll find work in New York and procure a place where Elena and I can live inexpensively. You will not be deprived of her. I know you and Clyde love her very much. But she is my child, and she’s all I have left of my beloved Andrew.

With love,

Rosalie

Elena’s forced calmness dissolved, and she burst into tears. For a few minutes, she could read no further for her flooding eyes could see nothing. She snatched a towel and laved her face with cool water from the ewer on her bureau.

Elena found the next letter, dated July 21, 1821. She did not open it with trepidation for she knew the truth and had little else to learn. She sighed and quivered, suddenly feeling a severe mental exhaustion. Forcing herself to focus, she perused the letter.

Dear Clyde,

The conventions insist that I address you as “dear,” but I am very far from thinking of you in that light, despite the fact that you are my sister’s husband and—I once believed—my friend. Your letter reached me this morning, and its implied threat hurt me very deeply. Yes, I did sign an agreement for my child to be adopted by you and Miriam, but I did not expect the two of you to hold me to it if I found it impossible to endure.

All the arguments you set forth are true: if I claim Elena as my own and my father learns of it, he will no doubt disinherit me; I have no means to support her in a comfortable style; people might learn of her illegitimacy and this could taint her for life.

But, Clyde, love generally will find a way. I implore you, do not hold me to this terrible agreement.

Clyde, I beg you.

Rosalie

Elena choked back a sob at the pain implicit in that letter. She seized the next one and read:

Miriam and Clyde,

I have spoken to an attorney, and he has told me there is a chance I can recover my child, but it might take years of legal procedures. He advised me against it, saying that the circumstances surrounding Elena’s birth would become public knowledge during the numerous court battles.

I have concluded that it is in Elena’s best interests for me to concede the matter and pursue it no further. I know you can give her a comfortable life and I cannot. However, I petition for one boon: I must see her one more time. You must bring her to New Haven, and I will meet you there. If you do not, I will work night and day to pay the legal cost of recovering her, and we will all be damaged by the ensuing war.

Rosalie

Elena threw the letters on the bed, leaned back, and shut her eyes. Several other missives were in the packet, but she had no strength to read them. Her thoughts were in turmoil, but one concept kept repeating in her brain—illegitimacy.

She, Elena Bellwood, was a bastard.

She sank down on the bed, feeling so weary and sick that movement seemed impossible. But a sudden knock on her chamber door made her sit up rapidly.

“Who is it?” she cried.

“It’s Willa. Are you ill, Elena?”

“Yes…I have a dreadful headache.”

“Should I send for Miss Murdoch?”

“No! No, indeed, Willa. I’ll rest a bit and then return to the farm.”

“Shall I harness Blackie for you in about a half hour?”

Elena dragged herself from the bed. She must return to the farm before her aunt came home. She straightened her dress and hair, wiped her face, and opened the door. Willa’s startled eyes told Elena just how deranged and disheveled was her appearance.

“Elena, you have been crying!”

Elena tried to smile. “Yes. I spent some time earlier with Megan, who was upset about her…situation with Edward, and then I developed this horrible headache.”

“You should lie still and wait for Miss Murdoch. I’ll fetch you an ice wrapping and—”

“No. Thank you, Willa, dear, I must return to the farm.”

“Then I’ll harness Blackie and drive you.”

“You are an angel, Willa, but I’ll be quite all right. You know how Mrs. Croaker is. She will force all the girls to tiptoe about the house so that I can rest. I will be well looked after. However,” Elena added, “you can certainly help me harness.”

The two girls soon had the horse in the shafts, and with a wave and a thank-you to Willa, Elena drove off at a fast trot. The confusion and whirl of emotions in her mind had subsided and been replaced by a new, unfamiliar emotion—rage. She felt angrier than she ever had in her life.

“I have been betrayed!” she cried aloud as Blackie trotted rapidly over the lanes toward the farm. “I have been betrayed by all of them! Miriam, a thief and a liar! Rosalie, who gave me away because I was an inconvenience! My father—Clyde Bellwood—he wasn’t even my father!”

Elena shook her head in disbelief. The strange man who had been staring at her was her real father. Where did he come from? How did he learn of her existence? Had he always known he had a daughter? No. She was not angry enough to believe Captain Andrew Reed had known about her and done nothing. But he was as guilty of betrayal as the others! Obviously, he had lain with her aunt—dear God, her aunt was not her aunt—he had lain with Rosalie and then sailed away without knowing if she were with child.

Elena slapped the reins, and the horse broke into a canter, nearly toppling the gig as he went round the corner to the farmhouse lane. Elena turned him into the paddock and entered the house. Mrs. Croaker was making tea for the girls, who all crowded around her as she entered.

“Girls,” she said, with as much cheerfulness as she could muster, “please excuse me. I have some urgent business to attend to.”

She closed herself in the office, seized a sheet of paper and wrote as rapidly as she could.

Aunt Rosalie,

Perhaps I should address you as “Mother,” but this is not a term I could ever apply to one who shuttled me off to be raised by others. Perhaps you had good reasons for what you did, but at this juncture of my life, I cannot forgive you. I cannot forgive any of you.

I will close the school at the end of this year and use my savings to travel to another place. Please don’t attempt to contact me. You will never see or hear from me again.

Your bastard child,

Elena

As soon as she had written the letter, Elena tore it into bits, dropped her head on her desk, and sobbed. She could not say those words to Rosalie…good, kind Rosalie who had been betrayed by her own sister far worse than Elena had been betrayed by her. She forced herself to stop crying and seized another sheet of paper. This time she addressed her letter to “Captain Andrew Reed, Harbor Inn.”

Dear Captain Reed,

Our conversation distressed me more than I can say, and for the time being, I do not want to see or talk to you. But I must advise you on one matter: call on Rosalie. My suffering right now is nothing compared to what she has suffered in believing you dead and then having to give up her child, the child fathered by the man she loved deeply.

I confess that I’m very angry, perhaps unreasonably so. I feel ill-used by every one of the players in the drama of my birth.

Please tell Rosalie that I can’t see her for the present. I will contact her in a few days when I’m calmer.

Elena Bellwood

Elena reread her letter and then called Mrs. Croaker. “Take the gig, and deliver this letter to the Harbor Inn. You can purchase foodstuffs at the same time, and save yourself a trip to town tomorrow.”

Mrs. Croaker was all compliance. She ordered the girls upstairs to pursue their studies, and Elena promised them she would be up soon to hear each of them read. When the house was quiet, she fixed herself a bit of bread and butter and settled wearily in the parlor. No sooner had she finished her repast than she heard a knock at the door. She peeked out a window and saw a strange horse tethered to a porch post. There was a man standing at the door, but she could not see his face. She considered simply not answering the door, but the knocking would bring the girls downstairs. She sighed and opened the heavy portal.

James Scott stood before her. “James!” she said in the first moment of surprise. Remembering her manners, she pulled the door open and gestured for him to enter.

He stood inside the door, hat in hand. She noticed how tall and handsome he was. He had lost much of his boyish air since taking on the responsibilities of a ship’s captain and now appeared confident and manly. His dark hair was neatly trimmed, and his brown eyes twinkled warmly as he greeted her.

Elena poured sherry, and they settled in the parlor. She felt certain he brought a message from Rosalie, and she was trying to mentally steel herself for the difficult conversation that would ensue. James seemed reluctant to speak at first, but after several sips of sherry, he said, “Miss Bellwood, I came…I came to inquire after Miss Garrick. I hope she is well after her turn this morning.”

Elena was confused for a moment for she had completely forgotten Megan’s dilemma. “Oh, oh, yes, I believe she is quite well. I intend to call on her this evening.”

He was silent. Something important was distressing him. Did he indeed bear a message from Rosalie? She attempted to encourage him.

“James—may I call you James?”

“Of course, miss.”

“You must call me Elena. Let us dispense with these surnames and titles, for we are friends, are we not?”

“We are indeed, and I’m honored that you’d think so.”

“James…is there something you wish to tell me? Certainly you do not need a specific reason to call. You’re always welcome. But you appear to carry a burden you would like to share.”

He ran his hand through his hair and shifted. “Aye, a burden indeed. But it may be a severe mistake to share it.”

“I will not importune you. But if it concerns my aunt, I would like very much to hear what you have to say.”

He looked completely surprised. “Your aunt? No, no, I have nothing to say of Miss Murdoch. As far as I know, she is quite well. Did you not see her today?”

“No, I did not. And I’m very relieved that you have nothing to report as to her health or well-being.”

James set his glass down. “I should go, Miss Bellwood…Elena. If I stay another minute, I shall surely tell you my secret, and I fear you’ll despise me for it.”

Elena could not suppress a wondering smile at the absurdities of life. Here was a third person attempting to tell her a secret! All in one day! Well, her curiosity was aroused now, and she was determined to hear it.

“James, whatever you want to tell me, please speak freely. I will certainly not despise you, and I won’t repeat your confession to a soul.”

James rose and walked across the room to a window. He pulled back a curtain and looked out. “There,” he said softly, turning back to her, “there, yonder a bit down that road, is my torment, my terrible secret.”

Elena wished she could make sense of his rather poetic words, but she could only stare at him. He walked back to her and retrieved his hat. “Now, tell me you don’t despise me.”

“I certainly do not,” she replied, “for I have no idea what you are talking about!”

“You don’t comprehend me?” he said, and then sadly added, “I suppose it would be impossible for you to conceive of such a circumstance…”

“James, for goodness’ sake, can you please be more explicit?”

“Very well!” he cried, and the face he turned to her was full of pain. “I love her! Is that explicit enough? I love her!”

Elena, still confused, sat silent, waiting for more. James returned to the window and stared out, his body rigid with frustration. After waiting in vain for some elucidation, Elena walked to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “James,” she whispered, “please confide in me. Who is it that you love?”

He turned to her and smiled a sad, bitter smile. “Megan Garrick, Elena. I love Megan Garrick.”

Elena was so shocked that she stood completely immobile, her hand still resting on his shoulder. He took her hand gently and led her back to the sofa. They sat side by side, each lost in thought.

Finally, James turned to her. He was calmer and attempted to smile. “Now you know my terrible secret, Elena. I don’t know how or why, but I fell in love with her on board the mail boat when we first journeyed to Mystic.”

“Good heavens! Did you know then of her engagement?”

“Yes, I knew it. I beat myself daily over my feelings for her, but it was no use. I knew I could never speak of it to anyone, especially herself. And to disguise how I felt, I fear I paid too much attention to Miss Willa McCrea. That was wrong of me, and I hate myself for it.”

Elena shook her head. “There you are too hard on yourself, James. You were kind to Willa, but I personally never saw anything improper in your behavior to her.”

He looked relieved, and Elena was pleased that she had given him a bit of comfort. Should she tell him that Megan had broken her engagement to Edward? No, Megan had not given her permission to speak of her decision to anyone, so she must not.

James leaned back and sipped his wine. “Why has she not yet married Reverend Ries? Their wedding could well put me on the path to be cured, but the months go by and still they are only engaged. What are they waiting for?”

Elena said nothing, for she could neither lie nor tell the truth. She attempted to take the conversation to another tack.

“James, why after all these months have you told me of this? What led you to be open at this particular moment?”

“It was the event of the morning. I was below decks on the Gremlin preparing to go to sea, when I heard footsteps coming along the pier. I went topside and saw Miss Garrick standing on the pier looking out at the river. I called to her and wished her good morning, but when she turned, I saw her face all wet with tears. I went to her straight away, but she wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. But at one point she cried very hard and fell into my arms. Can you imagine, Elena, how that was for me, loving her in silence for so long, to say nothing of the agony of seeing her in such distress? I held her in my arms, and she wept on my shoulder. I thought my heart would break in a thousand different ways.”

“And then I happened along. I almost wish I had not, for your sake.”

“I was right happy that you did. Another moment alone with her and I would have poured out my heart.”

Elena sighed. “Love is so difficult, so very difficult…”

“Aye, it is indeed.”

They sat silently, listening to the clock opposite them ticking away the seconds. Finally, James rose to go. Elena made a quick decision; she must give him a little hope. To do otherwise would be too cruel.

“James,” she began, “I should not mention this, but I believe—I do not know for certain, but I believe—Megan has decided not to marry Edward.”

His face showed his amazement as he stared at her. “How—when…?”

“I repeat, I don’t know for certain. Perhaps a tiny bit of hope may be yours, but only a bit.”

“How do you know this, Elena? And why would she decide not to marry him?”

“I can’t speak further of this, James. I said only that much so that it might lift your despair. But don’t let hope overwhelm you.”

“That would not happen. I know how far above me she is and how unlikely to love me or even notice my existence. She’s an angel from another world. Why would she look at a poor sailor?”

Elena sighed inwardly. As much as she liked James Scott, she wanted him to leave. She longed to be alone with her own problems. Knowing what she now knew about her birth, she felt it was highly likely that her own heart would soon be broken. What man would want to marry a bastard?

“James, I promised Megan to call on her, but I have a headache and will need to renege. Will you stop at the Garrick farm and give her a message for me?”

“With great pleasure,” he replied, “although I’ll pay for it in pain when I have to ride away.”

Elena scribbled a quick note to Megan and with relief saw James out the door. She had not lied when she mentioned a headache. How could one have a day such as this and not have a headache? She sank onto the sofa and pulled a quilt over her face. Her mind raced from idea to idea and image to image. The first shock of learning the details of her birth was over, but her mind was wrestling with the resulting circumstances—Rosalie was her mother! Andrew Reed was her father! The woman whom she had believed to be her mother was a thief and liar responsible for destroying the happiness of two people who deserved happiness!

Yes, that she must admit to herself. Rosalie and Captain Reed deserved happiness. Whatever had been their mistakes, they had not intentionally caused harm to anyone. Rosalie had suffered so she, Elena, could have a prosperous, happy life, free from the stain of illegitimacy. They had indeed made two grave mistakes—lying together before marriage was the greatest. The other was accepting at face value the letters they had received that had destroyed their happiness.

When these thoughts had gelled in her mind, Elena found her anger had dissipated and been replaced by a profound sadness. Her true parents should have been happy together, and she should have been happy as their child. But the evil machinations of one person had torn it all asunder, and that one person she had called “Mother” and wept at her death.

From the turmoil of her thoughts, the seeds of a plan emerged. She must confront her parents and make her peace with them. Then she must tell Ben Garrick the truth and release him from his engagement. When these painful duties had been performed, she would leave Mystic and seek work in another place. No doubt other towns in the region needed schools; she would open her own or find employment as a teacher.

Elena was so engrossed in her thoughts, she did not hear the front door open. She was aware of nothing until footsteps approached and Mrs. Croaker cried, “Miss Bellwood, are you ill?”

Elena sat up quickly, too quickly. The blood rushed from her head and, combined with little food and a great deal of agitation, caused her to swoon. Mrs. Croaker shrieked and rushed to her aid. The faint was quickly over, but Elena was helped into bed and ordered to stay there.

“I’m going to send for Miss Murdoch in the morning if you’re not better,” were Mrs. Croaker’s parting words. Elena did not argue, for her strength was gone. She fell asleep and awakened very early to a new day.