“My apologies, Captain. This must seem rather unexpected. But I need to speak with one of your passengers before you set sail.”
“Well, you could have saved yourself an uncomfortable night’s sleep. We don’t leave for another day.”
Relief washed over her, all her muscles loosening, but only for the briefest second. “John—Mr. Barnesworth—said that you were leaving at dawn on the twelfth. It is the twelfth, is it not?”
She looked over the captain’s shoulder and her heart sank. There along the front of the bow was the ship’s name: theSydney Jack. It had been too dark to see the ship properly last night. She hadn’t seen the words painted on it. Her gaze whipped to the river where several ships were already only a speck in the distance.
She grasped the captain’s hands. “TheLutetiana. Where is it docked?”
The captain extricated his fingers from hers, looking at her as though she had three heads. “It was docked about a hundred yards downriver.” The captain pointed to an empty pier. “But it departed an hour ago.”
The blood drained from Charlotte’s face as her heart sank. She stumbled backward. Only a steadying hand from the captain stopped her from tumbling off the pier and into the Thames.
She had come for John, and he didn’t know it. He’d left for America thinking that she’d chosen London and her life here instead of the life they could have built together.
The captain’s expression had shifted from patronizing to concerned. “Are you all right, miss? Can I have my men fetch you a glass of water?”
She shook her head, swallowing hard to hold back the tears. They could fall later, when she was alone.
Will took her elbow in his hand, a quiet reminder of his presence. She leaned against him, resisting the urge to turn into his chest and sob.
“It’s all right, Charlie,” he murmured. “He’s not dead. He’s just on a ship. You could write to him now and for all we know, your letter will arrive before he does.”
She nodded, her throat tight and painful. John had left an address in Boston that she could write to. She knew where he was going.
She knew where he was going.
“I don’t need to write,” she said, her throat straining at the words. “I need to bathe.” The stench of the Thames had seeped into her skin and her clothes overnight. “Then I need to pack my things. I’m going to America.”
Chapter 32
Yer determined then?” Fi asked from where she sat cross-legged on Charlotte’s bed, one knee resting on her husband’s thigh. Edward was rubbing the spot between his eyes, as though the whole situation was giving him a migraine.
Charlotte faced them both, hands on hips, full of the Wildeforde determination that generally cleared the path before her but, when faced with another Wildeforde, only guaranteed a fight.
“I cannot be dissuaded,” she said. “John and I may have challenges ahead of us, but I love him. He loves me. Together, we will make it work.”
“I don’t like it.” Edward’s tone was grim.
“I don’t care, brother. I’m a grown woman who is perfectly capable of making her own decisions on the matter.” She turned her attention to Grace, who had entered from the dressing room with an armful of clothing and was setting it down on the dressing table since William was currently slouched in the armchair.
Charlotte rifled through the dresses, selecting only the most practical. “I don’t need any of the rest. John and I will live a much quieter life than I led here in London. I don’t imagine I’ll be attending a ball every evening.”
Gracetsked. “You should take as many of these as we can fit in the trunks. You never know when you might need them.”
Charlotte fingered the amethyst buttons on the sleeve of the dress she’d worn when she was “officially” presented to the king. It had been the matching shoe clips that she first gave away to pay William’s rent. “You’re correct. I can always sell them if John and I get short of money.” The dresses she could remake into something more suitable for an engineer’s wife. She’d become rather good at sewing and, lord knew, she’d have plenty of time on her hands.
Edward stood, running a hand through his hair, his lips pressed tight. “You will not get so short on money that you are moved to sell your clothing. I forbid it.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “It seems like a difficult thing for you to forbid. But there is no need to worry. I have every faith that John’s telegraph is going to work out. In two years’ time, we may be richer than you all.”
Fiona nodded. “That’s possibly true. The telegraph is a brilliant idea. If he can make it work, and I’m sure he can, it will be installed in every home, eventually.”
Charlotte smiled at her sister, glad to have her support. “See? All will be well. But until then, I will need to economize and Grace is right. I should bring everything I can with me.” She picked up the pair of slippers that Grace had placed on the floor at her feet. “I’m sure this will fetch a pretty penny.”
Edward shook his head. “No Wildeforde is going to resort to hawking their belongings in order to put food on the table. You have your dowry and I will continue your allowance until John is better positioned to support you properly.”
There was part of her that wanted to reject his offer. She was ready to throw her lot in with John and whatever that entailed, even if it meant downsizing. But the more rational part of her prevailed. “Thank you, brother. It is much appreciated.” She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. It was also as close to an acceptance of her plans as he’d given so far.
