Heart of the Ocean (23 page)

“It still is.”

“You’re still dreaming about her?”

Eliza hesitated. “Among other things.” She felt Jon’s hand
on hers, and her pulse quickened.

“Like what?” he asked.

His touch was warm and comforting somehow, but Eliza
wondered whether she should tell him any more. This might be her only chance. “Your
mother speaks to me, and she told me that she’s in the lighthouse. But I don’t
know why she tells me that or what she wants me to do.”

Jon’s eyes flickered, but his face remained grave. “I’m
sorry,” he said finally. “I suppose it’s her way of letting us know what
happened to her.”

Her tears began to fall, and Eliza wiped them away. “What
happened to her was awful. I only wish she was able to board that ship to
England.”

Jon dropped his hand and looked past her. “She might not
have liked what she found.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I’ve been in England to settle my father’s estate, among
other things,” he said. “Apparently, my father married soon after I was born.
If my mother had arrived in England, she would have found him with a wife and
child.”

“But she knew about his marriage.” A sigh escaped Eliza’s
lips. She’d read it in the journal.

“Seeing it would have been hard.”

“Perhaps it was better that she never came over to England.”

“Perhaps.” Jon brought his gaze back to focus on her.

Eliza tried to think of something else to say that wouldn’t
be unpleasant. But the only topics the two of them had in common seemed melancholy—Apryl
and Thomas Beesley, Nathaniel Prann, or Helena. Feeling deflated, she said, “I
should get back to—”

“To your future,” Jon finished.

“No, I don’t—”

Suddenly, Jon took both of her hands and held them to his
chest.

Eliza’s breath hitched at his touch.

“It was a great surprise to see you again, Eliza,” he said.
“And . . . finding you in good health, enjoying the social scene, was more than
I expected. I hope you’ll be able to put the nightmare of my family tragedy
behind you.”

She nodded blindly, her eyes stinging. “But meeting you was
a blessing, not a nightmare.”

Jon held her hands tightly for another moment before he
reached out and stroked her cheek. “Perhaps dreams do come true.”

Eliza searched for the words to say—words to keep him from
going away. But he turned and left, disappearing into the night.   

She stood there for several moments, staring after him, oblivious
of the twinkling stars above. Finally the cold air made her to return to the
dance hall, where she found a chair to sit on. She was relieved that no one
asked her to dance, for she was trembling and sure her eyes were bloodshot.
Closing her eyes, she tried to calm her breathing.

Perhaps dreams do come true. Just not mine.

            The rest of the evening
was a blur. When Eliza saw Gina, she hurried to her side.

“I’m not feeling well,” she said, hoping she wouldn’t have
to explain.

Gina took one look at her and said, “I’ll fetch Nathaniel.
Meet us at the entrance.”

The ride home was quiet after Eliza assured both Gina and
Nathaniel that she was only tired and needed rest. Once they arrived at the
townhouse, Nathaniel escorted both women inside.

After Gina disappeared upstairs, Eliza endured a clumsy
goodbye in the form of a stiff hug with Nathaniel. Tonight had been nothing
like she expected. She walked slowly up the stairs to her room, where she changed
into her nightgown. Gina stayed downstairs, talking to her parents. Eliza fell
into bed, clutching her pillow close, still feeling Jon’s warm touch on her
cheek. Her tears could finally come, and she let them flow.

Eliza lay awake into the morning hours, afraid to sleep and
dream. It wasn’t until after the sun had risen that she fell asleep, exhausted.

Soon after midday, Eliza woke with a start. When the events
from the night before came into focus, she touched her cheek. Would she ever see
Jon again? She rose and peered out the curtains. The normal business of the day
seemed to be going on below, without her.  

By the time the afternoon post arrived, the Graydons had
left on errands. Eliza was dressed and sitting in the parlor, writing a letter
home. Rochelle brought in the post on a tray and placed the letters next to
her.

There was one from her parents, and another from . . . Eliza’s
eyes widened at seeing Jon’s handwriting. She tore open the envelope and
scanned to the end of the page. Nervously she began to read from the beginning.

Dear Eliza,

This letter may come at an inopportune time, but I have
spent the whole of the night since leaving you, awake. Your connection with my
mother is more remarkable than anything that I can express at this time. I tell
myself over and over that I should be grateful for meeting you and Nathaniel in
London. I offer my sincerest congratulations and know that you will be a strong
and devoted couple.

I confess that seeing the two of you together made me
anything but happy. I wasn’t prepared to feel this way upon seeing you again.
Having said that, you probably don’t have the slightest idea what I am talking
about.

When I received the letter from Apryl telling me that
she’d fallen in love with Thomas Beesley, I was, in fact, envious. Not because
she loved another, but because she knew what she wanted and had the courage to
partake of it.

I did not think that I could look upon another woman and
think of marriage—until I saw you at the dance.

Forgive me for my intrusion.

Sincerely,

Jonathan Porter

Eliza read the letter again and then a third time. Was Jon
saying what she thought he was? That he truly cared for her? She dropped the
letter onto the sofa and ran out of the parlor. “Rochelle, bring me my cloak.”

The maid appeared, a worried look on her face. “Where are
you going?”

“To the harbor.”

“But a storm is approaching,” Rochelle protested.

“Call the carriage.”

“The Graydons took the carriage.”

“Then the wagon.”

Once the wagon was prepared, Eliza climbed in. She leaned
forward, watching the passing scenery impatiently. She’d told the driver to
make all haste, but he seemed to be driving unusually slow. Eliza retied the
scarf about her head against the increasing wind. With luck, the weather would
be too turbulent for Jon’s ship to depart today, and it would still be docked.

Even before they rounded the last bend, Eliza knew it was
gone. Although she argued against the sinking feeling she had, when the harbor
came into view, she couldn’t deny the fact that there was no ship in the
harbor. Jon was gone.

Vendors were cleaning up their wares amidst howling gusts.
She signaled for the carriage to stop and climbed out. Wrapping her arms about
her, a fruitless effort to stave off the biting wind, she walked to the edge of
the dock. Two ships were on the horizon, although it was difficult to tell
whether they were departing or arriving. They might as well have been a
thousand miles away, for all the good it would do her. Jon had left.

Head down, Eliza returned to the waiting wagon. The ride
back to the townhouse was swift and cold. The single blanket did little to protect
her from the icy draft.

Once inside the house, she went straight to the parlor and
found the letter, unmoved, and took it to the hearth. Rochelle had lit a fire,
and Eliza sat next to it, reading the letter over and over. Finally, she folded
the pages and tucked them into her bodice.

Eliza had to tell Nathaniel the truth. He’d have to know she
was in love with another man or Nathaniel would never give up. Even if she
lived out her days as a spinster, she’d be more content on her own than
marrying Nathaniel out of pity.

***

In the early evening, someone knocked at the door. Eliza
sensed Nathaniel’s presence before she heard Rochelle greet him.

The Graydons were sitting in the parlor as well, and they
all decided to go upstairs at once. By the time Nathaniel entered, Eliza was
the only one in the room.

“Thou—I mean—
you
look tired,” Nathaniel said, taking
her hands and gazing at her face.

Eliza lowered her eyes. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”
Or
at all.
She gently removed her hands from his and directed him to sit down.

Nathaniel smiled brightly. “Well, I have good news that
might help. I received a letter from home, and my parents have reconciled themselves
to my change of plans.”

“That’s wonderful for you,” Eliza said in a polite tone.

“I thought it would be wonderful for us.”

“Oh, Nathaniel. Please don’t do this.” Eliza rose and
crossed to the darkened window.

Nathaniel came up behind her and placed his hands on her
shoulders. “I awoke this morning with a feeling of dread. Please, tell me
you’ve changed your mind and that you’ll marry me.”

She turned and faced him. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

His face paled. “Then it’s true. How I envy Jonathan Porter.”
His shoulders sagged, and his composure began to crumble.

“What are you talking about?”

“The man who has your love will be blessed for life.” He
turned and paced the room. “I should have seen it in Maybrook, from that first
moment I saw the both of you at the lighthouse.”

“I hardly know him—” Eliza began.

“Love isn’t knowledge.” He stopped and looked at her, his
eyes flaming. “It comes from here,” he said, bringing his fist to his chest.
“Thou wilt never know, Eliza, how thy rejection has wounded me.”

“It hurts me, too, Nathaniel—”

“I’ve been a fool.” His voice rose. “A fool to fall in love
with a woman who makes rejecting suitors a daily habit.”

She stared at him, his hurtful words burrowing deep. “I’ve
always been honest with you. How dare you think I’ve been heartless.”

Nathaniel’s countenance fell. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I
meant.” He sank into a chair. “All of my plans have been dashed.”

Seeing him crestfallen, Eliza’s throat swelled. She crossed
to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve no doubt you’ll find someone
who will return your love. Give yourself the freedom to search for it.”

He raised his head and looked at her, his eyes bloodshot.
“Perhaps thou are right. I gave up everything for thee. Love shouldn’t have to
be that way, should it?”

She shook her head.

“I’ve seen reason and will no longer fall prey to foolish
dreams.” He stood.

     Eliza watched as Nathaniel
picked up his coat and hat and strode out of the room, out of the house, and
out of her life.      

***

It had been weeks since Eliza’s return to New York, but she remained
restless. The nightmares continued, although the voice had been silent. The
daily tasks of shopping with her mother and writing thank-you notes for the
welcome home visits she had received seemed pointless. And furthermore, she had
no desire to attend social gatherings or parties—especially if it meant
encountering Jonathan Porter without any privacy.

But she was afraid to go to his home and confess her
feelings. So she waited and wondered if he’d contact her. He must know she was
back in New York and wasn’t engaged to Nathaniel . . . Jon had probably taken
precautions to avoid her, and she didn’t blame him. After all, he didn’t know how
she felt. She kept his last letter hidden in her jewelry box. No one would ever
see his words, though she doubted he meant them anymore.

Yet the words of his letter had given her the courage to
return to New York and help her family face the business problems. There had
been a complete split between Beesley and her father, but her father had
secured a large investor making the rebuilding of the business possible.

She knew Nathaniel would have no trouble finding a young woman
who would find happiness in his sun-kissed hair and bright blue eyes—a
happiness she could never envision for herself.

During the daylight hours she listened to her mother prattle
about who was doing what. But it was during the darkest moments of the night
when her nightmares returned.

Each night she dreamt about Helena, and each morning she
woke to her voice repeating, “
I’m in the lighthouse
.”

Soon, Eliza’s mother noticed the circles under her eyes.

“Are you ill?” Her mother placed a cool hand on Eliza’s
forehead. “Maybe you should rest today.”

Eliza found herself agreeing, and as days passed, she spent
more and more time secluded in her room. Even Gina had stopped visiting very
often.

***

Spring arrived, and Eliza confined herself to her room, pleading
a persistent headache. As brilliant greens emerged outside her window, a dark
curtain had fallen over her heart. 

One mid-April night, Eliza awoke from her sleep. She stared
into the darkness—trying to remember her dream—then realized there hadn’t been
one.

“Are you finally gone?” she whispered.

“
Go to the lighthouse
.”

A jolt passed through Eliza’s body. The voice was not giving
up.

She knew that she had to go look in the lighthouse—if not
for Helena’s sake, then for her own. She lit the candle by her bedside and
rose. Packing took very little time, and writing a note to her parents even
less. She hoped that they would not come after her, at least before she had a
chance to discover the truth about the lighthouse. She needed to do whatever it
took to get rid of the voice once and for all.

***     

Stepping off the train at the Maybrook station, Eliza
squinted into the bright sun. Nothing had changed about the sleepy town, and
few people gave her a second glance. She hired a buckboard and horse, and loaded
her single bag into the back. As she drove along the familiar rutted road, memories
of Maeve flooded through her, and she found herself smiling.

Shortly after turning onto Main Street, she arrived at the
constable’s office. She knocked at the door, and after a moment, it opened.

“Good morrow, Miss,” the constable said, surprise
registering on his face. “Come in.”

Eliza followed him into the inner office and helped herself
to a chair. “I’ve come to speak with Gus.”

The constable blanched. “Whatever for?”

She hesitated, eyeing the constable carefully. “I believe he
knows where Helena Talbot’s body is buried.”

The constable’s face was a mask of stone. “Gus is not here.”

“Has he been moved to a different jail? Where can I find
him?”

Averting his eyes, the constable spoke quietly. “He was
released last month. Haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

Eliza gripped the edge of her seat, half-rising. “How could
you release a murderer?”

The constable held up his hand, his eyes hard. “It’s cruel
to imprison a slow wit, and he never confessed to the crime.”

Sinking back into her chair, Eliza let out a small cry. “He
confessed his father’s murder of Helena to me. Gus wanted to avenge his father,
and he tried to kill me. Isn’t that enough to hold him?” Her head began to
spin, or was it the room? Before she knew it, she had pitched forward, and all
went dark.

***

When she awoke, the first thing she saw was the constable’s
ruddy face staring at her. “Canst thou stand, Miss?”

Eliza grimaced and rose to her elbows.

“Easy,” the constable said.

She let the constable help her to her feet.

 “I’ll bring thee some water,” he offered.

Eliza nodded, her head aching from the fall. She ran her
fingers along her forehead and discovered a growing bump. The constable brought
a cup, and she gingerly took a couple of sips.

 “Where art thou staying?”

Eliza looked at him in surprise. She hadn’t expected such a
consideration from the constable. “I don’t know.”

“Ruth has been ill and hasn’t been seen in town much, but Goodwife
Temple has a room she lets out,” he said.

“That sounds fine,” Eliza said.

“She lives above the bakery. Wouldst thou like me to walk
with thee?”

Eliza shook her head and handed back the cup. “I think I’ll
be all right. I’ve hired a buckboard.” She rose to go. “Thank you all the same.”

As she rode along Main Street, Eliza marveled at how everything
looked as it had the year before—yet different, too. The people hurried along
the boardwalk, their clothing ever conservative, their gazes respectfully
lowered. She stopped in front of the bakery and entered the warm shop. Shelves
were lined with freshly baked goods. The smell reminded her of Aunt Maeve’s
home.