Page 32 of The Indigo Heiress

31

There is no more lovely, friendly, and charming relationship, communion or company than a good marriage.

Martin Luther

When Juliet awoke, it wasn’t to the twinkling midnight lights of York Town but infinite blue. Dawn had long departed, flinging them into the Atlantic, where the rising sun turned the sea to sapphire. How had she slept through their weighing anchor? She wasn’t the only one. Pushing herself up on one elbow, she looked at Leith, clad in nightclothes and in the curve of a hammock. Wonder crowded out any regret. Sleep eased the lines about his eyes and brow and turned him years younger.

She lay back again, staring up at the canopied bedstead, her heart beating as hard as it had the night before when she’d come to the harbor, certain he’d already sailed. Her pulse doubled when his low voice rolled with a rumble across the cabin.

“What brought you to the ship last night?”

She shut her eyes briefly, trying to come to terms with what she’d done and where to start. “I had a, um, fracas with one of my father’s overseers at Royal Vale, necessitating my leaving. Loveday and I took a coach to the Ravenal townhouse and found you were no longer there—”

“Back up—a fracas?”

She swallowed. “We were helping a family of escaped slaves to freedom when Riggs—one of Royal Vale’s overseers—intervened. He used a whip on one of them, so I unseated him from his horse and gave him the same.”

“You horsewhipped him?”

Had she? She’d merely acted out of a long-standing rage and revulsion. “’Tis hardly a blessed start to our union, I confess.” Was he expecting something more romantic? “As for Riggs, I struck him but once, then left on his horse.”

“After which you came to York Town.”

“We arrived around midnight, yes. Mr. Ravenal woke the port’s naval officer, who told us you’d not yet cleared the harbor, so he secured a lighter to take us out to you and the Glasgow Lass. ”

“I sense you’re giving me the barest facts.”

Truly, the past hours had been fraught with a valley and mountaintop of emotion too overwhelming for words. The port officer had been cross as a bear when roused from his bed. It had taken considerable time to consult the ship’s log, which left them believing the Glasgow Lass had cleared port with its cargo of iron and lumber and Caribbean rum. Undeterred, Ravenal had paid the port officer to hasten his search and secure the lighter to deliver them and their baggage to the ship. It had been no small feat for the officer to row around the hulk of anchored ships in so small a vessel in the dark. And then for Juliet not to know what Leith’s answer would be...

She darted a look at him. He was staring up at the cabin ceiling as she’d been doing, contemplative as a monk.

“At what point did you decide to become Mrs. Buchanan?”

She resumed staring heavenward, groping for answers. The moment you returned the miniature. The moment I heard you were ill. The moment I heard you were gone. “I don’t know. Everything is still a tumult in my mind.”

“I admire your American spirit.”

Did he? His voice was wry, and her answer was half slurred with sleep. “Perhaps ’tis the same spirit that will win the war.”

They lapsed into silence, and she surrendered to the warmth of the bed and the gentle shuddering of the ship under sail. Vivid dreams placed her on land again, her feet mired in sand, a desperate desire to escape overtaking her—

“Sister, please, wake up!” Loveday bent over her, dragging her from sleep. “I’m concerned as it’s nearly noon, but Mr. Buchanan didn’t want you disturbed before now.”

Juliet opened her eyes and looked at the empty hammock. Where had Leith gone?

Behind Loveday was the bank of sunlit windows and the sea. “Didn’t you sleep?” Juliet asked.

“I’m afraid Hobbes is a poor sailor and mewled half the night.”

“He’ll adjust in time ... as will we.” Juliet began to dress, exchanging her nightgown for a shift and stays and stockings already waiting near an open trunk.

“I’ve laid a gown out for you and will serve as your lady’s maid, at least for the voyage.” Loveday’s words held wonderment. “Heaven knows what awaits us once we arrive in Glasgow. We’re on the cusp of a new land, a new life.”

Lacing her stays in front, Juliet eyed the chosen ensemble, the gown and petticoat different shades of indigo. “Did you pack any colored gowns but blue?”

“Nay. Blue suits you best, though I’m sure you’re to have a new British wardrobe soon. Think of it! You can go clear to Three Angels millinery in London if you like.”

“ We can go.” Juliet tried to imagine it. “Though after living so long in debt, I don’t want to be more beholden to the Buchanans than I already am.”

Loveday had finished pinning the gown in place when Juliet said in despair, “My hair. I can’t leave it in a night braid, and we’ve no hairdressing tools.”

But Loveday was already at work, securing Juliet’s waist-length hair with antique aigrette hairpins studded with tiny silver stars. Haphazard at best, but Juliet was grateful Loveday had packed them.

“Mama’s favorites.” Loveday smiled, passing her a hand mirror. “They hold a special glitter in your midnight hair whereas they are lost in my flaxen.”

A steward appeared with both a tea tray and a bucket of coal to replenish the stove. Juliet listened for Leith, who seemed to have given them free rein of his suite. His own chests were against a wall, but aside from that there was little evidence he’d been there.

Except for his humble hammock.

Hardly the wedding night most imagined. Theirs was, she reminded herself, no covenant.

“By now, Riggs may have gone to the authorities,” Loveday murmured, admiring her teacup’s fleur-de-lis pattern. “Last night seems a nightmare. I don’t suppose you’ve told Mr. Buchanan our departing woes?”

“Indeed, I did.” Juliet poured tea, breathing in the bohea’s comforting scent and wondering if it was smuggled. “I’m glad an ocean is between us and Riggs, though I rue what Father will return home to.”

“Let Nathaniel inform Father and let Father manage Riggs. You’re safe, and that is what most concerns me. I pray our runaways are well away too.” Loveday took a biscuit from a porcelain plate. “‘Farewell, fair cruelty,’ as Shakespeare said.”

“I regret leaving so suddenly that we never had proper goodbyes. Rilla and Hosea and the house servants were quite alarmed.”

“Perhaps we shall return someday,” Loveday said softly. “But we can hardly dwell on the past when the future looms.”

Looms. An ominous word Juliet didn’t like.

They grew silent, adjusting to the shouts of jacks on deck above them and the odd careening motion of the ship. Leith’s signet ring glinted as she curled her fingers around her cup’s handle. She was truly and thoroughly wed, though she didn’t feel married. She felt confused. And she hadn’t any inkling of what awaited her.