Sterling pulled himself up then swung his legs over so that he was sitting on the side of the bunk. He then took deep breaths and hoped that he didn’t need to reach for the chamber pot again.
“I have a vague recollection of you,” he finally said.
“I should hope so,” Elliot chuckled. “If you are going to give a man a blackened eye then you should certainly recall doing so and why.”
“You called me arse…I think.”
“I did and have not changed my opinion on that matter.”
Sterling tilted his head and glared at his young brother. “Why are you here and not on our estate in Madeira?”
“Those questions will be answered,again, after you have washed, changed your clothing, and meet me on the deck because if I am forced to remain in this cabin with you a moment longer, I will be theone retching.”
It was not so bad here, was it? Sterling sniffed then drew back. Even if he did change his clothing, he would still be offensive, as was the foul odor from the chamber pot. It filled the entire space of the small cabin. “Find me an inn and order a bath,” he said, then slowly pulled himself from the bunk. “I will pack suitable clothing.”
His head pounded and his stomach churned. He hoped that being off a ship that gently rose and fell with the current of the ocean waves would relieve one of his ailments, but he needed to locate Dover’s Powder for the other. “And make sure there is a pitcher of water. I am parched.” Not just thirsty but his mouth was as dry as cotton.
“I am not your bloody servant,” Elliot retorted.
“Please,” Sterling ground out.
Elliot left, closing the door behind him, but laughed his way down the corridor.
Oh, his brother would never let him forget today or last night. Except, Sterling barely recalled last night.
After he had managed to change his clothing, and pack a few sets of clothes and necessities, he made his way up to the deck only to wince when he encountered the bright sun made worse by the reflection of the ocean. He tilted his chin down and adjusted his hat, then made his way to the gangplank hoping that Elliot would soon return.
“Have you decided to remain?” the captain asked.
He had not, except, he had not seen Elliot in nearly five years and even though Sterling had intended to travel to Madeira, there was no point in doing so if the person he had intended to visit was here. “Yes, for now,” he answered. “I wish to visit with my brother.”
“Does that mean we will not be sailing to Madeira but back to England?”
“Does it make a difference?” Sterling’s head pounded too fiercely to have a conversation.
“It takes, at the most, up to eight weeks to sail to Madeira while sailing directly to England could take up to three months depending on the weather we encounter, therefore, I would need to plan for the proper provisions before we embarked.”
The calculations, timing, sailing to different places was too much for his head. “I will speak with my brother and find out how long he intended to remain and will then make my decision, but it is likely we will be here another sennight,” Sterling answered.
Had Elliot arrived before yesterday, he would have known because there was no other reason for his brother to be here, other than to visit their mother, therefore, it was unlikely he planned to sail back to Madeira anytime soon and Sterling would like to remain with Elliot.
It just wouldn’t be at Wyndview Farm where Caroline resided.
*
“Would you liketo join me in touring the gardens today to help determine what work must be done?” Caroline asked Livia.
At the wordgardens, her child had lost the rose hue in her cheeks.
Caroline understood the fear and wished that she could help Livia recover somehow, but she hadn’t taken the opportunity. The harvest of the grapes had happened right after the incident with the cobra and Caroline had not realized how deeply her daughter feared encountering another, for which she could not blame her.
She had incorrectly assumed that Livia had realized that she had been safe and had done the right thing and therefore would remember for the future. She hadn’t balked at going back outside and often went to the kitchens or to visit Lady Wyndham, except to do so, Livia only needed to cross a terrace, where there were no plants or anything that could hide a venomous snake and it was only after she’d seen Livia carefully look across the terrace before she left the house did Caroline realize how deeply her daughter still feared.
Maybe if she hadn’t been so caught up with the harvest, and all that needed to be done at Wyndview Farm, her lies, and falling in love with Sterling while she carried on as his lover Caroline would have noticed that her daughter had not recovered from an earlier fright.
“Where is your walking stick?” she asked.
“In my chamber,” Livia answered.
