Eliza managed a short, tearstained laugh. “You do have a bold bone after all, Sister, if a tad belated, running off with the captain this way.”
Esmée sighed. “We are not—”
“What of the almshouse and your charitable endeavors?” Quinn interrupted gently, still smiling. “You will be missed.”
“The almshouse has had a windfall of late.” Esmée still longed to unravel that mystery. “An anonymous benefactor has given so generously, ’twill carry them through the winter and far beyond.”
“And the chocolate shop?” Quinn queried.
Father cleared his throat. “I’ve just purchased a hand-operated machine from Boston. ’Tis time Esmée was relieved of her duties there.”
Esmée warmed at her father’s words, for she’d been unsure of his reaction. Eliza still looked sullen, her usual high spirits dampened by sleepless nights and indigestion. Even now she winced, moving a hand as if to counter an uncomfortable kick.
She continued to pout. “When does your island sojourn begin?”
Four more days. Each stroke of the clock brought Henri nearer. “Captain Lennox is coming this Saturday to collect me and my things.”
Eliza persisted. “Why don’t you two just elope? ’Tis what it amounts to, does it not?”
“Employment is not the same as elopement.” Father sent a stern look Eliza’s way. “Some felicitations are due your sister, are they not? She has served all of us well, even caring for your mother till she passed, and is late to living a life of her own.”
“I gather this is a resounding nay to Nathaniel Autrey’s pursuit.” Quinn’s voice was absent of any censure. “I’ve just learned that lately he has been in the company of my cousin Elinor from Norfolk.”
“Elinor?” Eliza’s vexation vanished as surprise rushed in. “Why, she’s homely enough to stop a clock. What on earth does he see in her?”
“Pretty is as pretty does, as Mama oft said,” Esmée reminded her. “I’ve met Elinor, and she’s lovely.”
“Pish! Nor does she have any dowry I know of.”
“Chaplain Autrey has little need of it, given he might inherit Mount Autrey one day.” Quinn gave a small, knowing smile, which left Eliza eyeing him curiously.
“I wish Chaplain Autrey all my best.” Esmée felt relief just saying it. “And his bride-to-be, whomever she is.”
Quinn took a cup of punch the maid brought round while Eliza turned up her nose at a cup of chamomile tea before accepting it. “Will Captain Lennox replace him, do you think?” she asked.
“Likely, if he can find a man willing to serve on a ship of the line in dangerous waters.” Father downed the last of his punch. “Not many would.”
Weary of any ominous talk, Esmée steered the conversation in a safer direction. “You should see the cottage I’m to occupy. ’Tis like something from a fairy tale. There’s even room for a small garden come spring.”
Father held out his cup as the punch was replenished. “I’ll visit you as often as I can. I’ve seen the lighthouse plans but not the finished structure.”
“What of a maidservant?” Eliza asked between sips of tea.
“’Tis one of the captain’s conditions.” Esmée pondered the miss she had in mind. “I’ve already sought permission from the almshouse and the girl in question. Lucy Barlow is willing to accompany me. She’s skilled in needlework and housework, including cookery. There’s even a cozy room for her off the kitchen.”
“I’m relieved,” Eliza exclaimed. “’Twould not do to be the only woman on an island of men, even if they are under Captain Lennox’s command.”
“The island will soon be absent of all but a trusted guard.” Father moved closer to the fire since the room’s corners were cold, chilling Esmée with his words as well. “And Mistress Saltonstall shall return in spring.”
“I do wonder,” Quinn remarked, looking to Esmée, “if you won’t tire of the isolation in time, having become used to town, with an ability to roam at will. The island is not unlike being shipbound, one would think.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Esmée told him. “But time will tell.”
“Promise you’ll visit me once you return to shore.” Eliza set her unfinished tea aside. “I simply must be the first to hear all about it.”
“Of course I shall,” Esmée reassured her. Eliza was not usually so cross. “Perhaps you’ll even set foot on the island one day.”
Eliza rolled her eyes, though a wry smile played at the corners of her mouth. “Another one of your fancies, Sister. I give you a fortnight before you’re missing us and wanting to forsake your island duties.”
CHAPTER
thirty-five
Esmée turned the spyglass on York’s harbor from the anonymity of her father’s study, where she’d been waiting for the last quarter of an hour. A small crowd gathered at the landing just below Shaw’s Chocolate. The Relentless’s pinnace had just docked amid the many frigates and merchantmen and sloops already at anchor—a cardinal among crows, from the attention it garnered. With its ornately decorated sterncastle and three masts, not to mention half a dozen crew, it looked dashing and fit for anything, if only to carry a chocolatier turned lightkeeper to a near island.
Her heart skipped as she watched Henri step onto the pier, his cape furling and unfurling like a sail in the November wind. A few jacks remained on the boat save two lads who accompanied him onto Water Street and up the hill to the Shaw residence. Breathless, she rushed to her bedchamber—her soon-to-be-former bedchamber—and readied to leave as Mrs. Mabrey greeted the captain in the hall below.
Soon three trunks, a chair and tea table, and several other items were loaded onto a waiting wagon. Esmée walked behind as the conveyance rumbled back down to the waterfront, glad to stretch her legs after two days of packing. Kitty was on hand, the two of them giddy as schoolgirls, for the day was clement and spirits were high. As the captain bowed from the waist when he greeted her again, Kitty blushed to the roots of her fair hair.
“So gallant,” Kitty whispered to Esmée when his back was turned. “For a widow of one and thirty, even I feel a bit smitten.”
Smiling, Esmée linked arms with her. “I shall miss you and your tea garden. But when I come ashore, we shall celebrate.”
“And I shall come to the island in turn, spend the night at your cozy cottage, climb to the top of the light, and take in the princely view.”
They chattered so exuberantly Henri turned around and smiled at them as they neared the water. Father was on hand, coming out of the coffeehouse to bid them farewell. His appearance caught the attention of one too many wags about town. Soon the papers would buzz with the news of Esmée Shaw leaving York.
Lucy arrived, brought from the almshouse by Jago Wherry in a pony cart. Her few belongings were in a small bag, a kitten included. For every new home needed a cat, did it not?
Esmée greeted Lucy, praying the both of them wouldn’t be seasick, as the wind was brisk. Dressed in a plain striped cotton gown with a darker petticoat, a clean apron about her waist, and a bonnet framing her face, Lucy looked expectant and a tad fearful. Scuffed shoes and white-thread stockings were on her small feet. The humiliating mark of the almshouse was missing from her garments. But had she no cloak? Before Esmée could reach for the clasp of her own cape to give her, the captain removed his and draped it about the maid’s shivering shoulders. Esmée smiled her thanks, touched by the small courtesy.