“It is not too late for you though, Harper,” Julian said as he gripped the railing. “You do not have to share my exile. You are a young man still.”
“I will share it, Your Grace. I have much to atone for. This shall be a suitable penance.”
Julian left it at that. This was not the first time they'd had this conversation. Harper had made up his mind, it seemed. Julian would not gainsay that resolution. His gaze drifted upward. Ester had boarded and was lost to sight. He felt a pang of regret which he quelled with brutality. There was no place in his heart for regret. He did not deserve to miss the sight of her, for seeing her meant that she was at risk. An accidental touch might end her life instantly, as it had done for Napier.
Putting his head down, Julian concentrated on each step as he climbed the suspended wooden planks to reach the deck. The ship’s boards were slick with rain, the wet wood glistening under the muted lights. The sailors moved with an easy grace, bare feet sure as mountain goats on treacherous cliffs, while Julian took his steps cautiously, each movement deliberate.
A uniformed officer approached, then gestured down a ladder and pointed him along a companionway. “Last room on the right, Your Grace. My own quarters, Captain Anderson at your service.”
The captain extended his hand in greeting, but Julian kept his gloved hands firmly clasped behind his back.
Captain Anderson had the hard, lined face of a man who had seen his share of hard wind and sun on the high seas. But even he blanched after one glance at Julian's face.
“We can find our way, Captain, thank you. I am sure you have other duties to attend to. We shan’t keep you,” Harper stepped in diplomatically.
The captain inclined his head and indicated which cabin Harper had been assigned, a room next to Julian's. Julian descended the steep staircase that the captain had called a ladder and strode along the narrow, low-ceilinged companionway to the end. Opening the last door on the right, he saw that the captain's cabin seemed to occupy the width of the ship at its stern, with a row of mullioned windows at one end. The bed was built into the wall and a table stood at the cabin's center, bolted to the floor,as were the four chairs around it. A cabinet against one wall held rolled charts and leather-bound journals.
Julian dismissed Harper, freeing him for the rest of the journey, though Harper promised to return to serve him dinner late. Alone, Julian stripped off his drenched ulster, tossing it across the back of a chair where it dripped onto the scrubbed boards below. As he lay back, eyelids shutting briefly—his head resting against the damp wall, the faint sound of voices reached him.
Female voices.
He could not make out words, but there were definitely two distinct voices. They sounded as though they were immediately outside his door. Rising cautiously, he neared the door, stopping short and listening. The screech of a door closing, followed by Helen’s unmistakable voice, became clear, though muffled by the walls. She was talking to Harper. Then sounded two sets of footsteps walking along the companionway in the direction of the ladder to the deck.
He realized what this meant. That Ester and Helen had been assigned a cabin next to his own, across the companionway from the one assigned to Harper. Helen had left. Was Ester alone in her cabin?
His heart fluttered as he caught the soft rustle of movement through the walls. It came from the same direction as the voices had originated from. The cabin across from Harper’s. With careful steps, he shuffled to the wall on that side of his cabin until he was close enough to press his hands against the agedwood. Then the side of his face. As his ear came into contact with the wood, he heard the sound of breathing. Followed by quiet sobs. They were so close that it was as though she were in the same room.
He spoke her name before he was consciously aware of it. “Ester.”
Instantly, he pulled back, furious at his own weakness. He strode to the window, looking out over the leaden waters of the Severn.
“Julian?” came Ester's voice from the other side of the room.
He closed his eyes, gripping the window frame until he felt the wood beginning to bow under the pressure of his fingers.
“Julian? Please...” Ester implored again.
Julian squeezed his eyes tight shut. Outside, the rain had ceased. It left an almost oppressive silence in its wake. Another sob echoed from Ester's room and the soft sound of a hand slapping against the wood. He felt the pull of her presence, wanted to go to her. Wanted to be apart from her, for her own protection. With a sudden burst of violent motion, he turned and rushed across the room. His body slammed into the wall, hands flat against it, forehead hard against the wood.
“Ester,” he whispered, voice ragged.
“I'm here,” she answered hoarsely.
“My heart cannot be without you. But my head... it tells me I must set you free,” he choked out.
“I don’t want to be free,” she muttered, her voice fierce despite the tears. “If death is the price I pay to touch you, then let me die.”
“No!” Julian snapped. “You are the fairest of roses. A bright star in a world of darkness. I would not have that star snuffed out. Not for my sake.”
“Let me show you that you are wrong!” Ester pleaded, “And if I cannot, then let me live by your side, as your wife, but without your touch. It will be unending agony but it is desirable to never seeing you again.”
“My love, do not ask it. I am weak… I am only holding my resolve by the thinnest of threads.”
“Then I will break that thread!” Ester insisted. “I do not care. I will free you of this superstition. I swear it.”
“You cannot,” Julian whispered, his voice tinged with despair.
“I can and I will! Let me try,” she pressed, “I will beg if I must. I will strip away any dignity to which I have been clinging and fall on my knees before you. I will crawl after you from Liverpool to Windermere even though the road is strewn with stones. Please, Julian!”
