The Bride Ship

“Careful consideration.” The merchant finished his sentence in a mocking tone. “You know, Kerr, there comes a time when a man’s got to quit considering, and act.”

Without any bow or other civility of leave-taking, he departed.

Sir Robert returned to his desk, clenching and unclenching his fists. He could not recall when he’d spent such a disagreeable morning. All over some trifle when there were many crucial matters that required his attention.

“Who’s next, Duckworth?” he growled when he noticed his aide skulking outside the door.

“No one else, sir.”

“Thank heaven for small mercies!” Sir Robert sank onto his chair then picked up his pen and unstopped his inkwell.

Duckworth cleared his throat. “There is one small matter I’d like to broach with you, if I may, sir.”

“Very well.” Sir Robert looked up from his papers. “But make it quick, like a good fellow. I can’t afford to fall further behind.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. You see it’s about—”

Whatever it was about, Sir Robert did not learn, for Colonel William Carmont marched in past Duckworth and tossed a copy of the Halifax Gazette onto the governor’s desk. “Have you seen this?”

Will Carmont was the one man in the colony Sir Robert did not expect or desire to stand on ceremony. They had served together under General Wellington in the Peninsular War, becoming firm friends in spite of their differences in temperament.

“Seen what?” Sir Robert picked up the newspaper and opened it. “What has Mr. Wye got a bee in his bonnet about now?”

Considering how the morning had gone so far, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“You can guess, can’t you?” Will pushed a few documents aside to perch on the corner of the governor’s desk, while Duckworth withdrew from the room. “It’s the same thing everyone in town is talking about.”

Sir Robert read a few lines of the editorial—an overwrought diatribe about some fancied Colonial Office conspiracy to keep the citizens of Nova Scotia in bondage to the motherland, by neglecting to foster their long-term interests. He could make nothing of it until he spotted the name “Mrs. Jocelyn Finch, née Lady Jocelyn DeLacey” halfway down the page.

“Of all the ridiculous…!” He threw down the paper. “I tell you, Will, this town would be a good deal better off if people were less preoccupied with such trivialities!”

The colonel shook his head. “To a man who’s sick to death of his own cooking and his own company, this isn’t trivial. And in case you haven’t noticed, the colony’s full of men like that.”

“Don’t start in on me, too, Will. I’ve heard nothing all morning but what sound spiritual, social and business sense it makes to turn these young women loose upon Nova Scotia.”

“You won’t hear a word from me on any of those subjects.”

“That’s relief.”

“No, indeed.” Will picked up the newspaper. “I have come to warn you of the trouble that may befall if you don’t reconsider. Dorothea Beamish is a woman of considerable influence. When all this gets back to her, she could make things damned sticky for you with the Colonial Office.”

Sir Robert cursed under his breath. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

The colonel treated him to a look of exasperated pity. “I don’t believe you’re thinking with a very level head about this whole business. And that’s not like you at all. You seem to have taken some daft prejudice against it, based on an unfavorable first impression. A false first impression, let me remind you. If you just give Mrs. Finch a chance, you’ll soon find what a charming, capable woman she is. She hasn’t had an easy time of it these past few years. You of all people should be able to sympathize with her situation.”

Sir Robert sat back and folded his arms across his chest. “How do you come to know so much about the lady’s qualities and situation, pray?”

Will looked a trifle surprised by the question. “You haven’t heard?”

Sir Robert did not like the sound of that. “Perhaps you had better tell me.”

And perhaps he had better face the distasteful possibility that he might be wrong.

“This is a much tastier breakfast than we’ve enjoyed in a good while.” At a table in the ship’s crowded galley, Jocelyn savored the modest luxury of a fresh egg. “I don’t mind that we’ve had to wait until past noon to get it.”

Lily Winslow concentrated on her eager consumption of plump, crisp sausages. “I heard the men who brought these provisions say they were compliments of His Excellency, the governor, from his very own farm. Imagine, the governor of the colony taking such an interest in our welfare! He must be a very kind man.”

Sir Robert Kerr—kind? The good reports Colonel Carmont had given her of the man last night over dinner could not keep a bitter chuckle from rising in Jocelyn’s throat.

“If he’s taking such an interest in our welfare,” said Hetty Jenkins, “why don’t he let us off this stinking boat before we all go barmy?”

Several more of Jocelyn’s charges took up the question.

“Why won’t they let us disembark?”

“When can we go ashore, Mrs. Finch?”

“Yes, Mrs. Finch—when?”

Jocelyn glanced around the dimly lit galley at their anxious faces. She did not have the heart to tell them upon how slender a thread their hopes hung. “Now, my dears, we must exercise a little patience. I fear the ship carrying our letter of introduction must have been lost at sea. So our arrival in Halifax was quite unexpected.”

From what little she had seen of the town, last evening on the way to the Carmonts’, Halifax had not appeared very large. Finding suitable accommodations for so numerous a party might prove difficult. Against her will, she felt a glimmer of sympathy for Governor Kerr.

“But they are happy to see us, aren’t they?” asked Lily, the orphan daughter of a country parson. Her calm manner during the rigors of the voyage had won Jocelyn’s respect and trust. “Such a great crowd came out yesterday to bid us welcome.”

“Yes, indeed,” replied Jocelyn, referring to the size of the crowd, not the sentiments that had motivated it.

She sensed that curiosity, not goodwill, had drawn most of yesterday’s onlookers. If only she and her charges were given a fair chance, she believed they could win a sincere welcome from the colonists. Certainly the gentlemen to whom Sally Carmont had introduced her last night seemed well disposed toward her mission. But would their support prove strong enough to sway their stubborn governor?

The ship had not been ordered out of port—yet. Jocelyn seized upon that as a hopeful sign. “I’m certain everything will be arranged soon, and we will be at liberty to disembark.”

She prayed so, at least. These fresh provisions from the governor’s farm were a great boon, to be sure. But the strain of forty women crowded together for weeks on end was beginning to take its toll on everyone’s temper. After returning from her lovely dinner with the Carmonts, Jocelyn had been called to settle no less than a dozen quarrels among her charges.

“The first thing I mean to do when I get ashore,” said Louisa Newton, a pale girl who had suffered from violent seasickness for much of the voyage, “is kneel down and kiss dry land!”

Some of the others laughed and nodded their agreement.

“I shan’t waste my kisses on the ground,” announced Vita Sykes, a saucy little minx who had caused Jocelyn no end of trouble since they’d set sail. “I mean to kiss the first man I see. There were a few fine-looking ones on the dock yesterday. That governor fellow you went off with wasn’t half-bad, Mrs. Finch. Is he married?”

The bold question brought a stinging blush to Jocelyn’s cheeks.

Before she could find her voice to answer, Hetty Jenkins cried, “A fine governor’s wife you’d make, Vita, with no more morals than a cat. I saw you, last night, pawing at that soldier who was guarding the gangway!”

“You’ve got sharp eyes, carrothead!” Vita grabbed a large fistful of Hetty’s bright red hair. “How’d you like them scratched out, eh?”

Hetty’s fist flew but missed Vita to box one of the other girls on the ear. By the time Jocelyn threw herself into the fray it had escalated to a full-scale brawl.

“Enough!” she cried. “Stop this at once!”