By now, more voices were raised.But this port was staunchly against the French occupation, like it was an illness, smallpox or typhus, they wished they could eliminate.No one would point out the direction Jonathan had taken.This he knew after spending so much time with these occupied people.
The sloop’s deck was bustling with her small crew, which hauled on lines, adjusted sails, and made ready for departure.Captain Thomsen caught the eye of a young sailor and jerked his chin toward Jonathan.
“Take him to my cabin.Get him cleaned up.That coat is evidence.It’ll see us all hanged.Burn it and drop the remains overboard.”
The Danish crewman, barely old enough to shave, led the way aft.Beneath the raised stern deck, a short ladder descended through a narrow companionway into the sloop’s only cabin.The young man stood back and let Jonathan climb down alone.
The cabin was scarcely more than a wooden box beneath the deck, its ceiling so low he had to stoop.There was room only for a single narrow berth built into the stern and a strip of floor beside it.But he was grateful for theseluxuriousaccommodations.
“Strip down,” the crewman said in heavily accented English.“I’ll be back soon.”He disappeared from view.
Jonathan pulled off Henrik’s ruined neckcloth and coat first, emptying the pocket and tossing the officers purse onto the blanket.He would leave it there for Captain Thomsen in recompense for his trouble.
Dark stains had bloomed across the brown wool coat like obscene flowers.The shirt beneath was little better.Jonathan shoved both up through the open hatch with the neck cloth.
Moments later the crewman returned with a pail of river water, two folded pieces of linen, and a rough chunk of lye soap, passing them down through the companionway.Sitting on the berth, since there was no room to stand, Jonathan leaned over the pail, scrubbing his hands, chest, and face with the cloth and soap until the water darkened to blood red.
The harsh lye stung his skin, but he cleaned up as best he could before drying with the second clean piece of linen.
When the sailor returned, he tossed into the cabin a plain linen shirt and a sailor’s coat, blackened and shiny from being tarred to make it all but waterproof.While Jonathan braced himself on the berth and dressed slowly, his hands no longer shook, but the brutality of killing a man still caused his thoughts to recoil.
Not the usual course of events for an English lord, to be flat on his back on cobblestones, fighting for his life.But then, nearly everything that had happened to him recently had been unusual.
The ship rocked, beginning to pull away from the dock with the outgoing tide.Climbing back up the ladder to the deck, Jonathan was glad to see Glückstadt falling away behind him — the docks, the warehouses, the clustered spires.Along with the ugly scent and sight of death.
Each moment carried him farther from danger.
And each moment carried him farther from the woman who had taken his heart.
He couldn’t wait to get far from this wretched continent, back to Heligoland, and then home to England.Back to his family, his duty, his gloriously normal life.To a long night of carousing with Finch.He owed himself that.Deserved it.
Yet simultaneously, he couldn’t deny the ache that grew along with the distance between him and Lise, with each and every minute.He wouldn’t say it was her preference, but it had been her choice.
Jonathan didn’t want to interfere with the crew, nor could he face lying prone again after three days in that position.Thus, he remained on deck while doing his best to remain out of everyone’s way.Easily done, as no one paid him any mind.
For hours, the land stayed with them, low, green, and marshy on either side of the river, until it thinned and flattened and finally dissolved into water and sky.Sailing smoothly on the ebb, the dusk had become velvety black nighttime, before theMargaretheslipped past the last dark banks of the Elbe.
By then, as they left the wide mouth of the river, the moonlight reassured him they weren’t going to collide with another vessel in the great expanse of the North Sea.
Sometime, before dawn, the captain went into his cabin for a few hours rest, and the crew took turns sleeping on the deck on wool blankets.Jonathan remained contentedly sitting on a barrel for most of the night.Occasionally, he paced around the main mast simply because he could, and thought of everything that had happened to him in Holstein because he could think of nothing else.
When the captain returned, Jonathan went below.Despite the berth being little more than a wooden shelf under the stern deck, fitted with a thin straw mattress that smelled of chaff and damp wool, it felt a great deal more comfortable than the bed of a wagon.With the gentle motion of the sloop on the water, he was asleep before he could start to the cycle of regretful thoughts again, with Lise’s lovely face at their center.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lise bent over her desk in her room, quill poised above the manuscript pages.The French words of Madame de Staël’sCorinneswam before her eyes as she struggled to render them into graceful German.Translation work demanded complete concentration, which was precisely why she was attempting it.
Also why she was failing.Particularly when the story involved falling in love with an Englishman.
Five days earlier, she’d ridden home from the Dodau Forest, her body still feeling strange, a little sore, from their lovemaking.It was nothing compared to how her heart ached.But she’d made the right choice.The sensible choice.The only choice.She told herself that all the way home.
Five days since she’d managed to walk away from Jonathan.Five days during which she’d maintained admirable composure, never once dissolving into tears as she kept fearing she might.
During her waking hours, she was in constant need of something —anything!— to occupy her thoughts.At the same time, she wanted mostly to be alone, which was why she was attempting to work in her room, not in her mother’s company in the drawing room.
When she wasn’t struggling to focus on Corinne’s tragic tale, she helped with household matters and played cards or cribbage or chess with Henrik while he recovered.Her brother was now able to come downstairs for meals, but spent the remainder of his time resting.Frau Kemper said he would heal faster the more he slept and drank copious amounts of sage or chamomile tea and beef broth laced with nettles.
Only at night, when darkness settled over the house and Lise lay alone in her bed, did the emptiness threaten to consume her.She felt wooden then, lifeless, as though her body remained but her spirit had sailed away with Jonathan toward Heligoland and England beyond.
