“Caroline learned how to cook as well, but I doubt she’ll have any cause to use it now. I was told her house has twenty servants.” Elise took a sip of the fresh apple cider Mina had given them.
“With a four-story house and five acres of ground, I would think they’d need at least that many,” Captain Wright said matter-of-factly. “I wonder if she’s yet had time to explore it all.”
“I doubt it, since they boarded a ship for New York the day they wed. I do admit I would love to see Europe,” Elise said as she put butter on her bread. “But probably not for the reasons Caroline wants to go. She plans to buy a new wardrobe in Paris, and Nelson has promised her more jewelry.”
“So why would you want to go?” Nick asked.
She stopped what she was doing. “For the history, of course. The history and art and architecture. Mother used to talk about how grand it was when she visited as a girl. The palaces and churches, the great houses. Her descriptions were so lively and brilliant, I almost felt as if I could see them through her eyes. Do you remember, Papa, when she described the tulip fields in Holland?”
Her father chuckled. “I do, indeed. Your mother certainly had seen it all, and yet she preferred her life on theMary Elise.”
“I believe I would feel the same,” Elise admitted, “but I would like to see it.”
Nick wanted to promise that if he had anything to say about it, she would. He had gone on a grand tour at the age of sixteen. His interests had fallen in line with those of Elise. His father had even hired an architect to take Nick around and show him various places and discuss the details of how a particular building had come to be. Of course, there had also been tours of textile mills.
“But what about Boston, Nick? Tell us about your town.”
Nick shook his head. “It’s hardly mine. I left at eighteen, and with only a few exceptions of port call, I’ve not returned. That’s been over ten years.”
“And you’ve not seen your family in all that time?” Elise asked.
“No. My father turned me out, and my sisters felt it their duty to side with him. I think I mentioned that I write to my friend Mrs. Schmitt. She has been the head housekeeper for as long as I can remember. She keeps me aware of the family’s health and activities. I doubt my father knows about it, however. I’m sure he’d soon put an end to it.”
“How sad.” Elise frowned. “I can’t imagine Papa not wanting to see me.”
“That’s because it will never happen,” the captain said. “Sometimes a man makes decisions he regrets. Your father may one day decide he was wrong—or perhaps he already has. It’s good that you maintain some sort of connection to your family.”
“I agree,” Elise said, picking up the small piece of bread she’d buttered. “I think you should make it very well known that you are eager to mend your fences.”
But was he? Nick considered that for a moment. He wasn’t at all sure he wanted to go back to Boston and attempt reconciliation. After all, he would never take over the textile industry his father had built. Wouldn’t it just reopen old wounds to go back and state this fact once again?
“What did you love most about living there?” the captain asked, seeming to understand Nick’s thoughts were warring.
“The parks, the water, the architecture. There are some wonderful old buildings with such detail that you could study them all day and never tire. I used to stroll along the walks and be mesmerized by the detail. And the music! There’s always a concert somewhere or an organ recital. There are great pipe organs in the churches that play with the most amazing sound.” He touched his napkin to his lips. “There is always something different to study. I learned small boat sailing there and signed onto my first ocean schooner out of Boston Harbor. But I admit that I prefer the lakes.”
“I’ve never known the difference, but I agree with you all the same, lad.”
Elise smiled at her father. “I made your favorite custard pie. I hope you saved room for it.”
Captain Wright reached over to pat her hand. “Of course I did. I saw you with the cream and eggs and knew what you were up to.”
Elise scooted back from the table. “Then I’ll go retrieve it now.” She made her way to a small table on the other side of the stove. “I’ve sprinkled it with nutmeg, just as you like it.”
“She’s an amazing girl, my Elise. Always lookin’ to please and most generally accomplishing that and more.”
“I can well imagine,” Nick said, watching her as she made her way back to the table. “Talented and beautiful.”
She met his gaze and blushed. “You should stop that. I’ve already promised you pie. You don’t have to charm me to earn your share.”
“Even if there were no pie, I would sing your praises,” Nick assured her.
“Robert Wayfair!” a burly, bearded man called to Booker Duran.
“I’m sorry, you’ve the wrong man.” Booker kept his face down. Thankfully the tavern was noisy and full of strangers.
“Now, Bob, I’d be knowin’ you anywhere. ’Tis you, or my name isn’t Rummy Carlson.”
Duran knew there’d be no shutting the man up unless he acknowledged him.
