All eyes turned to Wherry, who was clearly dead. Esmée’s stomach twisted, and she swallowed hard even as Nathaniel took her elbow. “I’ll return you to your end of the island,” he said. “And I shall stay till the remaining crew at the Flask and Sword—or Captain Lennox—return.”
CHAPTER
sixty-two
You must stay on in the captain’s cottage,” Esmée told Nathaniel as they walked the path toward the lighthouse, far calmer than when he’d found her on the beach. “But first I must remove my dear sister.”
“I suppose it can’t be helped,” he remarked, hat in hand. “I heard Lord Drysdale has been buried. A better man I’ve not found in all Virginia.”
“Truly. We miss him sorely.” Tears threatened at Quinn’s mention, but she blinked them back. “Having you near will be a great relief to us all. But will it tax your aunts having you away? Mount Autrey needs you, surely.”
“Mount Autrey and my aunts survived a great many years without me, including the pox. A few days or even a fortnight or longer won’t change that.” He looked toward the cottage in question. “Though I am loath to displace her ladyship.”
“Think no more of it, please. We shall all be glad of your presence.”
“I’ll wait here by the pier then,” he told her.
Esmée found Eliza sitting by the hearth’s fire in her sultana, not abed as she so often was but still marked by the same forlorn expression.The remaining sores on her face were fading, but the scarring would remain. Near at hand was a Madeira bottle and cup. With a tick of alarm Esmée saw that it was half-empty.
“I’m happy to see you up.” Esmée’s voice sounded as washed-out as all the rest of her. “We’ve just come through a calamity, which I’ll soon explain. For now, Chaplain Autrey is standing out in the cold and needs to lodge here in the captain’s quarters while you return to us.”
“Return? There’s hardly room!”
“We’ve trundle beds in a pinch.”
Eliza jumped to her feet. At once her hands flew to her face, revealing the gist of her thoughts. “But I cannot be seen. He will—I look a fright. I am not the woman he remembers.”
“You are far more than your appearance, Sister.” Esmée’s words were soft. “He knows you’re grieving and is thoughtfully waiting by the water till we move you.”
Eliza hurried across the room and reached for her veiled bonnet and her cape. “I have no wish to exchange words with him so shall rush past straightaway.”
“I’ll have Lucy bring your belongings over then.” Esmée took a poker, built up the fire, and added another log before following her.
In a quarter of an hour, the exchange was made, the former sea chaplain ensconced by his own fire with a book from the captain’s library:Travels into Several Remote Nations of the World.
“Promise me you won’t invite him to supper.” Eliza was more animated than Esmée had recently seen her. “Though the chaplain was a friend to Quinn, I fear facing him would simply magnify my grief.”
“You grieve more than a husband.” Esmée saw past the ruse to the real heart of the matter. “You grieve your health.”And your beauty.
Tears sprang to Eliza’s eyes. They were alone in the parlor, Lucy and Alice in the kitchen with Alden amid a cacophony of crockery and cooing. Wherever Eliza was, they went elsewhere, not daring to trespass on her quicksilver moods. Ruenna slept in her cradle near the hearth, oblivious to her mother’s angst.
“Tell me, Sister.” Eliza’s voice held a rare fragility. “Why is it thepox left you only lightly scarred but disfigured me completely? I feel naught but an abomination.”
“The pox did not touch your soul,” Esmée returned quietly. “Nor your spirit. Not unless you let it.”
Eliza’s chin firmed. “You evade the question.”
“I was but a child when the pox struck—and lightly at that. I cannot say why it affected you differently as a woman.”
“So you agree I am unsightly and unfit for company.”
“I said nothing of the sort.” Esmée gestured to a chair. Exhausted, she took the one opposite and said as much to herself as to Eliza, “Please sit and becalm yourself.”
Eliza sat, shoulders hunched, her filmy veil hiding her features. “I recall a sermon Reverend Dawson gave before Quinn was taken from me, about prosperous worldlings being an affront to God. Do you think my pride—counting the world my darling—brought me low?”
“I have no cause to throw stones, Sister, not when my own ruinous vanity nearly cost me a future with Henri.” This was said with such conviction Eliza fell silent. Esmée looked at her earnestly. “Please remove your bonnet so I can see your still-lovely face.”
Though she could not see her sister’s withering look, she felt it.
