When Victoria’s train pulled into the tiny platform at Sedleigh, old Wilf Potts, chewing on the stem of his briar pipe, was waiting for her with Aunt Honoria’s trap.
‘Hello, Mr Potts, how good it is to be back here again.’ He gave a friendly grunt. ‘How is my aunt today?’
‘Fit as a heifer.’
She climbed up into the seat beside him. ‘I hope you and Mrs Potts are keeping well, too?’ Her great-aunt’s retainers were surely both well over eighty now.
‘Aye, that we are, thank ’e, miss.’ This was usually the extent of any conversation with Mr Potts and Victoria attempted no more while the little grey mare clopped up and down the hilly lanes leading to Lady Honoria’s house three miles away.
She slipped off her gloves, pulled the hat from her head and breathed in the sweet, earthy scents of the countryside around them. Occasional glimpses of the whitecaps dancing on the blue sea beyond the cliffs took her eye and, looking down from the bridge as they clattered over the river, she saw a vessel under repair in the little shipyard which had stood there on the bank for more than a century.
‘Mr Strickland appears to be very busy in the yard.’ She craned her neck to see sheets of copper being unloaded from a wagon.
Mr Potts grunted. ‘Old boat down there bein’ outfitted to go tradin’ with the ’eathens.’
She turned on the seat and glimpsed the name Fortitude painted on the vessel’s stern, before the trap rounded a corner and they trotted along the last mile to Aunt Honoria’s pretty little cottage.
Of course, everyone in the family knew that it wasn’t actually their great-aunt’s own house. She had no money at all, but one of her old lovers – a peer of the realm who’d died twenty years previously – had left her a bequest of £200 a year, and the tenancy of this cottage during her lifetime.
Victoria caught the sound of Lady Honoria’s laughter coming from the drawing room as soon as she walked into the kitchen where Mrs Potts was setting out a plate of plum cake along with three cups and saucers on a tray.
‘Ah! What a treat it is to see you here again, Miss Vicky.’ Her wrinkled face creased further and she kissed Victoria on her cheek.
‘It’s always a treat to be here, Mrs Potts, but tell me quickly about my aunt. I hear that her health is failing.’
The housekeeper gave a hoot. ‘M’lady is almost ninety years old, bless me! And just listen to her in there now flirtin’ with her gentlemen visitors. Failing? Never!’
She placed a fourth cup on the tray, which Victoria picked up while Mrs Potts went ahead to open the door of the drawing room.
‘Victoria, my darling girl! So you’ve crept in by the kitchen again to surprise me!’ The old lady, wearing lavender silk and cream lace, was sitting like a queen in a high-backed chair with a handsome courtier on either side.
Both visitors, dressed in blue naval jackets with gleaming brass buttons, stood as Victoria walked into the room and one, a tall young man with fair hair, stepped forward to take the heavy tray from her hands and set it down on the table.
‘Thank you,’ she said. His face was bronzed by sun and wind, his eyes the brightest blue she’d ever seen, and, when he flashed a smile, Victoria caught her breath. She looked away quickly and saw the sparkle in Honoria’s eyes.
‘How delightful it is to have you here again,’ the old lady said and they kissed. ‘Gentlemen, let me introduce my great-niece, Miss Victoria Shelford. My dear, here before you are two of the bravest, most handsome and gallant seamen ever to sail from Devon.’ The pair stood side-by-side, smiling, and looking not in the least abashed by Lady Honoria’s extravagant words.
‘My dear, this is Captain Henry Latham, who has voyaged around the world a dozen times, facing hurricanes, pirates, monsters of the deep and all kinds of terrifying things.’
The older man, whose age was perhaps fifty, gave an amused smile and acknowledged the introduction. ‘Delighted, Miss Shelford,’ he said, and took her hand. He was of stocky build, with a bluff and hearty man-of-the-world air.
‘And this gentleman, dear, is Captain Latham’s nephew, Peter, who, I’ve just learned, is now also a captain – or master – or something very important. Did you happen to notice their vessel under repair in Strickland’s shipyard on your way here?’
‘Indeed I did see the Fortitude.’ She shook hands with him. The young man’s skin was tough, his grip firm, and his second smile was just as heart-jolting as the first. Her fingers seemed unwilling to lose contact with his. ‘May I ask, Captain—’
He interrupted. ‘Sorry, Miss Shelford, there can only be one captain on board a ship, and that’s my uncle. Yes, I’ve just received my master’s papers, but I’ll be sailing alongside him as first officer.’ Did she imagine it, or did his pressure on her hand increase momentarily before he released it?
‘Oh, I understand.’ She wriggled her fingers to restore their circulation and, with a sudden need to busy herself, lifted the teapot and began filling the cups. ‘And where will you be sailing off to?’
‘We’re heading to the East Indies.’ Peter picked up the first cup and handed it to Lady Honoria with a courtly bow. ‘I’ve never sailed in those waters, but this old sea dog knows them well.’ He and the captain exchanged a warm look. ‘I’ve been working on Yankee clippers for the last five years, but my uncle and I always had a plan to go into partnership one day and buy a trading vessel of our own.’
‘How exciting. I wish every success to you and the Fortitude.’ Victoria took the chair he was holding for her and when her teacup rattled on its saucer she was surprised to find how unsteady her hand had become. ‘How long do you expect to be away from England?’
Captain Henry answered. ‘These trading voyages usually take about two years, Miss Shelford. I’ve sailed to the Spice Islands several times and the shipowners have always made a healthy profit when we took out a cargo from our British iron foundries and brought back a hold full of silk, tea, exotic timbers, and anything else that commands a high price here.’
‘And so now you, yourselves, have become shipowners. How splendid.’ Victoria was aware that the nephew hadn’t taken his gaze from her face. ‘And when is the Fortitude due to sail?’
‘It will be some time yet before the shipwrights have finished and we get the masts up,’ Peter answered, moving his chair closer to hers. ‘After that, we need to find a crew, get the ship rigged, then make a run down the Channel to see how she handles in the Atlantic swell.’
Aunt Honoria smiled at the men. ‘It all sounds most exciting. I’m sure Victoria would love to see the work going on at the shipyard, wouldn’t you, dear?’
‘We’d be honoured to introduce you to the Fortitude, Miss Shelford,’ the captain said, ‘though I must warn you that with shipwrights still crawling all over her, it won’t be safe to escort you on board yet.’
‘Thank you, I quite understand – and I promise not to get in anyone’s way. Would it be convenient if I walked down tomorrow afternoon?’
It was Peter Latham who spoke, and it was not simply his words, but the enthusiasm in his tone that sent a ball of excitement bouncing through her.
‘Do you know, my dear, I don’t think I’ve felt so well for months as I do at present.’ Lady Honoria chuckled while Victoria fussed about arranging her lace-trimmed pillows at bedtime. ‘Now whisper to me, m’love, have you ever before met a young man as charming and handsome as Peter Latham?’
‘Yes, of course I have, Aunt. London is full of handsome—’ She blushed.
‘But did any of them make your heart beat the way it did today when Peter Latham smiled and pulled his chair closer to yours?’
‘Aunt Honoria, how can you possibly know— Oh, dear, was I so obvious?’
‘I was delighted to see the glow that came into your eyes, dear girl.’
Victoria perched herself on the edge of the bed. ‘A glow? No, whatever you saw in my eyes today was pure terror.’ She gave a little self-deprecating huff. ‘You know that I’m not the sort of girl who – who melts at the touch of a man, yet from the moment I met Peter Latham this afternoon, I felt myself being drawn to him. Never before in my life have I experienced such an extraordinary sensation. And, yes, it did terrify me.’
A smile played around Honoria’s mouth. ‘Why should it do that?’
‘Why? Because I have met him only briefly and I’ve absolutely no idea who he is. There’s been no time to learn anything about his background, or his character, or – or—’ A flush swept into her cheeks. ‘In any case, how could I permit myself to even think of getting to know him better when he’ll be sailing away in a few weeks and not coming back for two years?’
Honoria raised her brows and clicked her tongue.
Victoria sniffed, then let out a long sigh. ‘Oooh! Why shouldn’t I be terrified of my emotions when Peter Latham and I have only just met and I know nothing about the kind of man he really is – and yet, despite all that, I can’t get him out of my mind. I know I’m being ridiculous. It’s all happening far too suddenly. It’s totally unreasonable.’
‘Oh, my poor darling, do you think that love always provides a reason?’
‘Well, it should, because I’d like to know why it is that, if I close my eyes, I can see him waiting for me there on the edge of a great cliff. And, yes, he’s charming and handsome and he excites me, but if I allow myself to move any closer I could very well tumble over the edge with him. And who knows what might be waiting at the bottom.’
‘Hmm, I see. What a sensible answer that is, Victoria. You sound just like your mother.’ Honoria squeezed her hand. ‘My darling girl, life is all about taking chances and you must never be afraid to grasp whatever joy it offers along the way. Yes, there’ll be disappointments sometimes, even sadness. But I’ve learned that the shadows have a way of making the rest of life seem all the more brilliant.’
Victoria lay in bed that night with images of a young, handsome mariner dancing through her brain. All common sense cried out to turn around and go home quickly to the safety of London. But she knew that it would now be impossible to resist taking just one more little step towards him on that enticing edge.
The following afternoon she almost ran to the yard where shipwrights were clambering over the vessel, hammering and sawing. Peter was working on the deck and, when he saw her coming, he scrambled over the side and down the rope ladder. They met face to face in the middle of the yard and when he smiled at her she felt a flash of fire as old as time.
‘I thought – actually I couldn’t believe that you’d really want to see this old ship.’
‘Oh, yes, I wanted to come. Yes, I wanted to come very much.’
They searched each other’s eyes and she thought she could see her thoughts reflected in his. It was a shock to realize that he appeared to be as nervous as she was.
They sat on an upturned box in the shade and he picked up a stick to draw diagrams in the dust as he explained the refitting that was being done on the vessel. She tried hard to concentrate, but his closeness made that difficult.
‘By the end of next week, it should be safe enough for you to come aboard to inspect her.’
Why did she think that she could hear a deeper meaning in each word he uttered? Was her heart playing tricks with her mind? He walked home with her at twilight, stayed for supper, and submitted himself to a lengthy, light-hearted inquisition by Lady Honoria.
‘Yes, I can see that you’ve done very well to afford to buy a partnership in the Fortitude – so tell me, Peter, just what age are you? Do you have family? Brothers and sisters?’
‘I’m twenty six, ma’am. And no, I have no family at all – apart from Captain Latham. My father was Thomas, his brother. He was a blacksmith but, sadly, both he and my mother were taken off by an outbreak of typhoid when I was ten years old. That’s when I went to sea.’
‘You did? It surprises me to hear that you were able to become a sailor at such a tender age.’
‘I started as a ship’s boy, m’lady, and right from the start I knew that the sea was my calling. Uncle Henry found me a place on a vessel that was captained by an officer who had a reputation for being a first-rate sailor and a fair-minded master. He worked me hard and taught me well. I have much to thank him for.’
‘Well?’ the old lady said, when Victoria came to her bedroom later to bid her goodnight. ‘Are you still terrified of slipping over the edge of that cliff with a man named Peter Latham? From what he revealed this evening, I believe him to have a fine, steadfast character and a promising future. Would you not agree?’
‘Oh, Aunt, I think – I think I will never again meet anyone like him.’ She flung her arms wide and spun childishly. ‘I’ve been in love several times, you know. Well, I think I have. It was always very pleasant and enjoyable, but what I felt towards Peter the moment we met, was something quite different. Utterly different! It was as if I’d been suddenly gripped by some savage, glorious madness.’
And nothing happened in the following weeks to alter her feelings. She ran to the shipyard every afternoon and learned to climb up and down the precarious rope ladder dangling from the deck.
Once aboard, Peter showed her the workings of the vessel from the pumps and the galley, to the poop deck at the stern, which was the captain’s exclusive domain. The officers’ cabins were below this, with a handsomely panelled navigation room built across the stern. In here, Victoria was eventually able to make herself useful by unpacking boxes of books and rolls of charts and maps, along with navigation instruments, and storing them away in their specially fitted drawers and shelves.
Peter walked home with her each afternoon and often stayed for supper with Lady Honoria. ‘No, no, don’t thank me, Peter, my dear,’ she said, ‘it’s a pleasure to share your company. It makes me feel young again.’
Each evening Victoria stood with him at the garden gate as he was leaving and, while the farewell kisses they exchanged grew increasingly heated, he resisted her unspoken invitation to explore deeper intimacy. They spoke of love, but it was she who first mentioned marriage.
‘Vicky, I love you deeply and there’s no other woman in the world who could ever fill my heart the way you do, but do you imagine that your parents will give their permission for you to marry a man of the sea? I’ve no grand connections and nothing to recommend me but what you see standing here before you.’
She put her hands on his shoulders and held him at arm’s length, looking at him squarely. ‘Yes, and what I see is exactly why I love you, Peter Latham. You’re a fine, honest man. Anyhow, I don’t need my parents’ permission to marry. I’m over twenty-one and what I want is to spend the rest of my life with you, wherever you go, whatever you do.’ She spoke with an odd mixture of innocence and passion. ‘You’ve told me that wives often sail with their husbands.’
He reached for her and held her close. ‘Vicky – my dearest Vicky. Dear God, what can I say? I love you with every fibre of my being, and swear that I’ll look after you and make you a wealthy woman one day.’
‘Oh, Peter! I don’t care a jot about that. All I want is to be with you. And I want to be useful. Yes, you can teach me how to navigate and I’ll plot our course round and round the world so that we never have to set foot on shore again.’ When she laughed he picked her up and hugged her tightly in his arms.
‘Sweetheart, I really must write to your parents and ask for your hand. It’s the proper thing to do. I want to tell them how much I’ve come to love you, and swear that I’ll always take care of you.’ He snuggled his face into her neck.
‘No! Please don’t write. I mean, not yet. But let’s go inside and tell Aunt Honoria that we’re engaged.’
Once the copper hull was in place, the carpentry below decks was completed and the masts were in position, the day came for the newly painted Fortitude to be slipped into the water and moored a few yards down river at the jetty where a gangplank now made boarding simple. The barque rode high until her ballast was loaded, and while that was happening, Peter and his uncle travelled to Portsmouth to sign on a crew of able seamen, as well as a cook and a sailmaker, a carpenter and a ship’s boy.
They were back within a week, followed shortly by two wagonloads of men with sea chests and canvas bags – eighteen men with weathered faces, tattooed arms, ear-rings, scars, and most wearing knives and spikes on their belts. They tugged their forelocks to Victoria as they climbed aboard and carried their belongings below.
Within minutes they were back on deck and, under Peter’s direction, the complicated business of rigging the three masts began. Eventually, the twenty-six new sails had been hoisted, with halyards running to the belaying pins, while the captain watched from the deck, bellowed orders about braces, buntlines and clewlines. Victoria held her breath each time Peter scrambled up a mast and worked his way along a high spar to some seaman who was securing ropes.
Supplies were brought on board, the water barrels were filled and the carpenter built chicken coops to stand beside the goat pen. While she watched the ship quickly coming to life, her heart grew heavier: tomorrow, the mooring ropes would be cast off, the wind would fill these sails and the Fortitude would disappear out there into the Channel.
Through their adjoining wall that night, Lady Honoria listened to Victoria pacing her bedroom floor and, long before the sun had risen, she heard a light tap on her own door.
It was Victoria, fully dressed and carrying a portmanteau. ‘Aunt, I’ve decided to take that leap over the cliff. I’m going to beg Peter and his uncle to let me sail with them while they put the ship through her trials.’ She quickly kissed the old lady’s cheek. ‘I’ll be gone for no more than a few days – perhaps a week.’
Lady Honoria rarely found herself speechless, but this was one of those occasions.
On the other hand, Captain Latham had a great deal to say when he confronted Victoria in the dawn light, and every word conveyed his outrage at her uninvited arrival aboard his ship, as well as his fury at Peter’s giddy happiness at her surprise.
‘Please let me apologize, Captain, because I know that this is not at all the thing to do.’ She refused let herself buckle under his tongue lashing. ‘But if you give me permission to sail with you for these few days, I promise to be in nobody’s way.’
They stood facing each other silently, before the lines around the captain’s mouth slowly softened. ‘Very well, Miss Shelford, I will give you permission to remain on board, on condition that my first officer is not distracted from his duties.’
‘Captain, I promise that you won’t even know that I’m here.’ Without another word she bolted into Peter’s cabin and threw herself gleefully onto his narrow bunk. From above her head, she heard orders for the moorings to be cast off and the sails unfurled, followed by sounds of running feet along the deck, and the soft creaks and groans of timbers as the vessel got under way.
She knelt with her face pressed against the porthole, nervous and excited as she saw the shoreline – and her old life – slipping away. Once out into the Channel, the ship began to roll gently and, when she lay her head on Peter’s pillow, she dreamed of the day when she’d be his wife and part of his life at sea, on this ship or any other. Ahappiness greater than she’d ever known squeezed her heart.
The ship’s boy brought a plate of bread and ham to her later in the morning, along with a basin. ‘Mr Latham sends his compliments, ma’am, and I’m to tell you that we’re makin’ good headway but when we start headin’ out of the Channel, there’s likely to be some rough weather. Storm blowin’ up on the port bow.’
With hunger gnawing at her insides, she nibbled at the food on the plate and hoped that her stomach would behave. The sky outside was growing darker and before long, she could detect an increasing pitch in the sound of the wind singing in the high rigging. The bell rang for all hands to come on deck and she soon detected a new shudder in the ship’s roll as it caught a cross-swell on the building seas that were slamming against the hull. The pumps below began to thump continuously.
Hours later, Peter knocked on the door and stood grinning at her with his wet hair plastered against his head and water dripping from his oilskins. ‘Are you all right, sweetheart?’ he asked, looking pointedly at the empty basin.
‘Can’t you see that I was made for this?’ She laughed and braced herself against the bulkhead as the wind howled and the ship pitched violently. ‘What about you and the crew up there?’
‘Fine. The men know what’s expected of them, and the ship’s handling splendidly.’ He leaned forward and she kissed him quickly. ‘I’m too wet to come in, but as soon as this weather settles I’ll show you just how proud I am of you.’
The wild storm had blown itself out by sunrise the next morning, though a heavy sea still swept over the bow. Victoria woke to the sound of four bells signalling that routine had returned to shipboard life and the first watch was on its way below to catch four hours’ sleep. Four hours on, four hours off around the clock – for weeks on end for everyone, except the captain and first officer who were never truly off duty.
She was still in her nightdress when Peter at last arrived in the cabin, hollow-eyed with fatigue, but grinning. ‘Well, we wanted the old ship to show us what she was capable of doing in all weathers, and she came through last night’s blow like a true lady.’ He sagged against the bulkhead and eyed her longingly. She swung her feet onto the pitching floor and staggered to his side.
‘And standing here before you, sir, is another lady who is anxious for your approval – just as soon as we get you out of these wet clothes.’ She reached up and, with fumbling fingers, began to unbutton his jacket and shirt, while the heaving ocean threw her off balance and tossed her against him again and again.
They laughed and kissed as she towelled him dry. He tasted of salt and sea and man, and she wondered if any woman before had ever sampled such potent flavours all at once. She was so happy, she thought that her heart might stop, but it didn’t seem to matter. Nothing mattered in this private and wonderful world but the taste of his mouth and the touch of his skin.
When he whipped the nightdress over her head, they tumbled into his narrow bunk and lay tightly jammed together while their kisses deepened and passion soared. Finding a mutually comfortable position in the confined space created initial difficulties, but their eager bodies soon guided them to the solution.
‘Now show me, Peter. Show me how to make love.’ When she raised his hand to her lips and innocently ran her tongue across their tips, his aching fatigue became an avalanche of desire.
‘Sweetheart, I think you’ll find that old Mother Nature is a splendid teacher.’
A quiver rippled through her and she pressed herself even closer against him as he kissed her face and the curve of her neck. Her heart thundered when he shifted his weight and began languidly and knowing to lead her along paths of hot, dark, irresistible discovery until her body sang the glorious womansong that nature teaches her daughters. She rose to him and powerful sensations swamped her, lapping each secret corner of her body, sweeping her into worlds of rapture.
Replete, she lay quietly in his arms, knowing that she’d been treasured and cherished, and that nothing in her world would ever be the same again. ‘Oh, Peter, my Peter. It was – oh, sublime!’
‘Heaven has made us for each other, sweetheart, and when I come back with a shipload of treasures from the East’ – weariness was slurring his words – ‘your parents will give us their blessing and then, when I watch you walking towards me down the aisle—’
‘Shhhh.’ She stroked his neck, his shoulder. ‘It’s time to sleep now, my love. Sleep.’
He was a truly beautiful man through and through, a good man, a noble man, and she loved him utterly. But she knew that no matter how many treasure ships he brought back from the East, a mariner named Peter Latham, the son of a blacksmith, would never be accepted by her parents. They’d never give their blessing to a marriage, so there was little point in asking for it. While he lay sleeping with his head on her shoulder, she began to make plans.
When at last she was able to ease herself out of his bunk, she dressed quietly, threw a shawl around her shoulders and stepped out onto the heaving deck. There, buffeted by the salt-laden wind, she grasped a halyard to steady herself and gazed at the waves and spray breaking over the pitching bowsprit. There was nothing in view but the daunting expanse of angry grey water stretching in all directions.
It was very easy to imagine that they had sailed a thousand miles from the shores of England. There was nothing out here but the Fortitude. They were utterly alone in this watery world.
She stepped back into the shelter of the officers’ quarters and, making no sound to wake the sleeping captain and his first officer as she slipped past their doors, she went into the great cabin in the stern. Here on the bookshelves that she’d arranged, she found the leather-bound Book of Common Prayer, and opened it at the page headed: The Form of Solemnization of Matrimony.
Clearly, she and Peter must be married before he sailed off to the other side of the world. It would be a simple matter to arrange: Captain Latham would perform the wedding service at sea with eighteen sailors standing there on deck to witness it.
Such a marriage would be perfectly legal. Who could deny it?