“In this case there is no such delusion.” Ned studied him, a sympathetic light in his eye. “Have you never experienced it?”
Henri kicked at a pebble in his way.Aye.Had he not once felt the same? When Esmée had first entered a stuffy Rhode Island parlor, it was as if no other woman existed. Only Ned did not know of hisand Esmée’s former tie, having been aboard a schooner till joining theRelentlesscrew.
“Lest you think I’ve completely lost my reason, I questioned my kinfolk at Mount Autrey about the Shaws, especially Esmée,” Ned said. “My aunts are a formidable hurdle—two of them, anyway.”
“Well ... go on,” Henri muttered over his misery.
“I’ve made other discreet inquiries.” Ned was as earnest as Henri had ever seen him, removing all hope that this was one big lark. “Her character is sterling. Not vain but virtuous. Kind. God-fearing. She stretches out her hand to the poor and visits the almshouse regularly. She is a woman of spirit and industry, managing the chocolate shop like her mother before her. For the life of me I cannot understand why she has never wed.”
“A failed love affair, mayhap.”
Ned’s clenched brow eased. “Perhaps she was simply waiting for me.”
Henri would hear no more. “In short, the perfect chaplain’s wife.”
“Exactly. And since my father and mother are long buried, I ask your blessing.”
My blessing.“I suppose you’ve yet to tell her you’re hardly a humble chaplain but kin to the Autreys.”
“She did ask, hearing my surname. An insignificant detail.”
Henri nodded. This was what he most admired about Ned. His humility. His utter disregard for earthly mammon. In truth, Esmée had all the makings of a genteel chaplain’s wife. Together they could launch all sorts of charitable endeavors from Mount Autrey, one of the largest estates in Virginia, a veritable fount of funds.
“Now seems the time to leave the sea and settle down.” The note of finality in Ned’s voice seemed to seal the matter. “Though we’ve had many an adventure together of which I’m extremely grateful, Captain, my wanderlust has begun to tire, as we’ve oft discussed. I’m now intent on resigning my post, and I seek your blessing.”
In a few choice words, Ned had stated Henri’s own predicament.My wanderlust has begun to tire. I’m intent on resigning my post.So succinctly stated yet how infernally complicated. To leave the sea and settle down was Henri’s burning desire and had been for some time.For Ned it was entirely possible, while he himself felt shackled. By his reputation. His resources. His connections.
“I understand.” Henri forced a smile, tried to summon some gladness for Ned beyond a half-hearted clap on the back. “But my blessing is hardly needed. I wish you the best in whatever you undertake.” He took a breath and added, “There’s never been a more worthy man for such a woman.”
Ned’s brow tightened anew. “You’ve oft talked of settling down yourself.”
“And now a new endeavor has presented itself.” Time ticked on. Virginia needed an answer. “I’m beginning to think I will always be at sea. Die at sea.”
“No wife. No children.” Ned shook his head mournfully. “Granted, able mariners are always needed, but in the end, is it worth it?”
Henri did not answer. Ned had raised the very question that would not let him be.
CHAPTER
twenty-two
Aterse letter came from Eliza.
Dear Sister,
I have been visited by the three aunts from Mount Autrey. Please hasten to Williamsburg where I await you impatiently. Come see the leaves turn color if nothing else.
Your loving Eliza
A visit? Esmée hardly had time, what with begging bones and holding newborns and experimenting with the latest chocolate confections. But what Eliza wanted, Eliza eventually got. And Williamsburgwasa magnificent panorama of color in autumn.
But what of the spinster aunts from Mount Autrey? Might this have something to do with Nathaniel Autrey?
Esmée pondered it all the way to Eliza’s, wishing Father were awake and could distract her. Despite the rumbling coach hitting a bone-rattling bump or two, he dozed, a victim of too many late nights spent working on his marine atlas.
At last he came awake when they rode past Jane Vobe’s tavern. “What is that divine smell?”
Esmée leaned nearer the coach’s window. “Beef pasty, perhaps.”
