Page 38 of The Lovers (Echoes from the Past #1)
TWENTY-SEVEN
London, England
Elise took a shuddering breath as the boat glided toward the dock and came to a stop with a final splash of the oars.
Her stomach heaved and she grabbed onto the sides of the boat and sucked in a breath of air in an effort to keep the bile from rising.
This wasn’t the sickness that had plagued her nearly every morning for the past two weeks—this was despair.
The ferryman gave her an expectant look, and she handed over a coin and carefully stepped ashore.
“Mind how ye go,” the man called after her, having noticed her pallor and unsteady gait. Elise gave him a wan smile, but he was already negotiating a new fare and forgot all about her.
It’d taken her nearly a fortnight to work up the courage to make this trip.
Some part of her still hoped that things would miraculously work out, but she knew that was not possible.
No matter how desperately she longed to get away and start a new life with Gavin, her conscience wouldn’t allow it.
Gavin deserved better than this, and so did her child.
How could she deny it its legacy and condemn it to a life of financial struggle and obscurity?
Gavin and the child were innocent of any wrongdoing—it was she who was tainted by deceit, and it was she who had to put an end to the dream.
Elise walked away from the river, determined not to lose her resolve.
It was a beautiful March morning. Spring was in the air, and the tang of the river mingled with the smell of loamy earth, reminding her of the garden at her parents’ house, where she used to sit on a bench on fine days and watch the Thames flow past. The sky was a pristine blue, and the sun, although still pale, now gave off some welcome warmth.
The streets of Southwark bustled with activity, and no one paid any mind to a young woman walking alone.
Elise decided that after her meeting with Gavin, she would go to her father’s house.
She longed to see Amy and Anne, and although her father would chastise her for coming alone, without so much as a maidservant to accompany her, she was willing to brave his anger if it earned her half an hour with the girls.
But it would be even better if her father happened to be away from home.
The thought of seeing him left Elise seething with a bitter anger that she wasn’t accustomed to feeling toward her only living parent.
She sighed with mounting misery. Today was going to be difficult, no matter what she encountered.
Elise approached Gavin’s house and knocked on the door.
Something about the place looked forlorn, not like before when it seemed quaint and welcoming.
The shutters were open, but the windows were covered with a layer of grime, and there was rubbish strewn on the step.
Elise waited a few moments, but there was no answer, so she knocked again.
Then she suddenly remembered that Gavin would be at the Tabard Inn.
She’d come a little later today, and Gavin would have already left for work.
Elise retraced her steps and walked toward the inn.
The place was surprisingly quiet. She supposed that those staying at the inn were still abed, sleeping off the aftereffects of strong drink consumed the night before.
Southwark was known for base entertainments such as bearbaiting, gambling, and whoring.
The Tabard Inn was more respectable than most, but men were men, no matter their station in life. They liked their pleasures.
Elise stopped in the courtyard and looked around.
There were several doors, and she had no idea where Gavin might be.
A young girl stepped outside carrying a bucket of slops from the kitchen.
She stopped when she saw Elise and set the heavy bucket on the ground, taking the opportunity to tuck an escaped curl back into her cap.
“Ye lost?” she asked in a friendly tone, probably hoping for a quick chat before returning to her duties.
“I’m looking for someone. Gavin Talbot.”
“Oh. Ye’d best speak to the landlord, then. He’s just through yonder.” The girl indicated a door to her left. “Doing ’is books, ’e is, so don’t ’xpect ’im to be in good ’umor.”
Elise thanked the girl and went in. She found herself in the taproom of the inn.
It smelled of spilled ale and stale sweat.
The polished bar gleamed in the dull sun streaming through the window, and rows upon rows of pewter tankards were lined on shelves behind the bar.
The tables and chairs were all empty, save two.
Two gentlemen sat in the corner drinking ale and partaking of a late breakfast of bread and cheese.
They talked quietly but grew silent when they spotted Elise, their eyes drinking her in.
One of the men gave her a welcoming smile, but she refused to meet his gaze and turned toward the other table.
A burly man sat alone, a ledger open in front of him and a quill suspended in his hand as he stared out the window thoughtfully.
He wasn’t wearing a wig, and his bald pate shone in the light, the skin as pink as that of a newborn babe.
His belly protruded against his coat, and his calves looked like melons in a pair of mustard-colored hose.
“Are ye looking for employment?” he asked when he saw her standing there.
“Can ye cook? I’ve enough serving wenches already.
” He opened his mouth to continue but seemed to realize that Elise was too finely dressed to be someone searching for a job in a tavern.
The landlord leaned back in his chair, studying Elise with undisguised curiosity as he waited to hear the purpose of her visit.
“No, sir. I’m looking for Gavin Talbot. He works here,” she replied timidly.
The man peered at her more closely. “Gavin, ye say? I hope ye’re not in the family way, ducks,” he added with a greasy smile. Elise balked. Why would he ask her that? Did Gavin have a reputation for getting girls with child?
The landlord pointed to a chair with his quill, inviting her to sit. Elise perched on the edge, her insides suddenly shaky. “Is Gavin here? I wish to speak to him.”
“Gavin left a week ago. Sailed for Virginia,” the man replied, watching her for a reaction.
“That can’t be right,” Elise protested. “He wasn’t due to sail until the beginning of April. That’s nearly two weeks away.”
The landlord shook his large head. “Aye, that was his original intention, but he met a lady, our Gavin.” The man looked at Elise with pity. “Had he promised ye something, ducky?”
“No, we are friends. I simply wanted to say goodbye and wish him a safe journey,” Elise lied. She had no desire to tell this man the truth.
“Oh, well, that’s all right, then. There was a wealthy tobacco plantation owner staying here with his daughter, awaiting passage to Virginia.
Master Ambrose and his daughter wintered in England, visiting family in Kent.
She is a comely thing but getting on in years, if ye take my meaning.
Master Ambrose professed her to be twenty-two, but I think she were closer to twenty-five.
That’s quite an age for a woman,” he added with an air of disapproval.
“Another year or two and she’d be too old to bear children.
The lass needed a husband, and the father needed an educated man to help him run his estate.
Gavin fit the bill, so to speak. Once the old man dies, the girl’s husband will inherit the lot. ”
“Did Gavin marry her?” Elise asked, shocked.
This couldn’t be right. What the landlord was suggesting was preposterous.
Gavin made her a promise, had asked her to walk out on her marriage and sail to the Virginia with him.
He wouldn’t just leave her, having met a more attractive prospect.
Not Gavin. He was an honorable man, a decent man.
“Master Ambrose was in a hurry to get back home and had no wish to wait three weeks for the banns to be called, so Gavin and Mistress Ambrose became betrothed with the intention of getting wed in Virginia. The proud papa even paid for Gavin’s passage to the New World.
And best of luck to them, I say. Seemed everyone got what they wanted. ”
“Did they?” Elise asked. Her voice shook with distress, but the landlord hardly noticed.
“Oh, aye. Gavin, he is a clever lad. Thought he’d marry the de Lesseps girl and be set for life, but wise Ol’ Hugh sold the lass from under Gavin’s nose.
Married to some high-and-mighty lord, she is, and the other two are too young for marriage, so of no use to Gavin.
No more than children, they are. I’ve no doubt Ol’ Hugh will find them good matches in time.
Why waste daughters on paupers when ye can marry them off to lords? ”