Island of the Swans (14 page)

Jane raised her tearstained face toward her aunt. Elizabeth Maxwell represented her only hope of seeing Thomas one last time.

“I didn’t have an opportunity to wish Uncle farewell or Godspeed,” Jane said softly.

Elizabeth Maxwell looked sharply at her red-eyed niece sitting across from her at the breakfast table. She took Jane’s hand gently in her own as a sign of sympathy. She could plainly see that Jane was in love with that fine young lieutenant, and, after all, not everyone could marry a title. Look at Magdalene Maxwell herself, thought Elizabeth. She hooked a baronet and what did it profit her? A life of cares and misery. Elizabeth felt blessed every day that she was happily married to the second son in the Maxwell dynasty, title or no title.

Two whole years without James!
Elizabeth felt her own wave of misery well within her. Her husband’s reassignment to North America had come about without warning. The sudden decision to replace regimental captains at Fort Pitt in Pennsylvania had thrown her into a whirlwind of activity. And what of the new baby she sensed was forming inside her, a short six months after the birth of her last child? To face the dangers of childbirth alone, without the calm, loving support of her husband. Her own unhappiness at the thought of their long separation was matched in her niece’s devastated expression.

“Oh, Aunt Elizabeth,” Jane sighed, her lip quivering, thanks to her aunt’s display of affection and understanding. “They’re both
so near…
couldn’t we just…”

“Jane… I am so sorry…” Elizabeth began, reaching across the table to smooth back a few wayward strands of Jane’s dark tresses, “really I am—but you cannot imagine how rude the waterfront of Leith is… how unsuitable a place the docks are for ladies.”

“I don’t
care
!” Jane responded hotly, a blazing gleam beginning to glow in her eye. “If you won’t help me, I’ll ride Thomas’s horse there myself, or take the hourly coach!”

“And ruin your reputation in the bargain? Not to mention what could happen to your
person
with such folly!” Elizabeth replied with alarm.

“I
will
go! I will see Thomas before he leaves!” Jane cried. Her willful tone alarmed Elizabeth more than her words. “Please,
please
, Aunt… come with me,” Jane pleaded. “It will be your last chance to see Uncle James… to
surprise
him… and my last chance, too.
Please
, Aunt Elizabeth!”

Elizabeth gripped the dining table with both hands and remained perfectly still. She thought she had felt a flutter in her low abdomen. She waited for it again: the first sign of life in the babe that would be born while James was away.

The previous night, Elizabeth had revealed to James her growing concern that she had not felt any movement, despite her conviction she had conceived the child four months earlier. The tiny flutter of butterfly wings in her womb filled her with sudden pleasure and relief. But what would she be able to tell this bairn of its father? That he had been drowned at sea? Shot by a French colonist? Scalped by a savage? Would James ever return to see this child who was little more than a prayer the day he departed?

Her niece began to stare at her, puzzled, as Elizabeth sucked in her breath sharply.
She did feel flutters… a definite brush of butterfly wings!
Elizabeth looked at Jane and smiled absently.

Oh, James
—she thought joyfully, ’
tis alive!

He would be so happy to know all was well, even if he’d be angry at her for subjecting herself to the bumpy coach ride and her niece to the turmoil at dockside.

“All right, Jane,” Elizabeth said quietly. “Hector Chisholm can drive us and I’ll escort you to Leith to make your farewells. There’s no need to bother your mother about this,” she added pointedly. “’Twill be just an outing to visit old friends, which isn’t really a lie. But you
must
promise me, Jane, you’ll do just as I say and not create any nuisance.”

The shrill curses of the coachman and the crack of his whip roused Jane from a fitful slumber. Her neck was stiff from the nine-mile ride jammed into a corner of the hired livery Aunt Elizabeth had engaged for the hour-long journey.
Oh, please let him be there
, she prayed silently, as Hector flicked the whip once more over the sloping backs of the nags pulling their rented coach.

By the time she and Elizabeth Maxwell reached the docks by the bay, the area was bustling with afternoon activity. Jane craned her neck to try to determine which ship was the
Providence.
She grew increasingly frustrated at the sight of the forest of masts stretching like a thicket of tall reeds across the harbor. She sat up abruptly to stare at the porters laboring under twice their weight, bearing boxes of coal, barrels of rum, and baskets of glistening salmon. The laborers trudged from dockside to a low-roofed warehouse where they disappeared with their back-breaking loads.

“The
Providence
is a brig,” Aunt Elizabeth said, “which means that if she hasn’t sailed yet, she’ll be anchored quite far out, because of her size.”

Attempting to keep Jane occupied, Aunt Elizabeth pointed to a man in a worn navy frock coat who was walking along the crescent of the quay.

“That’s the Bellman of Leith,” she declared wryly. “The locals give him a few pence to deliver messages just to keep him from spending all his working hours in the pubs.”

Jane surveyed this bleary-eyed, red-nosed figment of humanity as he rang a large brass bell, and, in a nonstop singsong, slurred the names of people for whom he apparently carried important information.

The two women began to smooth their hair and adjust their clothes in anticipation of their arrival at the waterfront hotel. Jane pulled nervously on the jacket of Catherine’s dark green wool traveling costume. She had borrowed it in haste soon after her mother had retired to do the morning accounts.

The road along the waterfront was jammed with foot traffic of every description, forcing the coach to slow to a snail’s pace.

“Will you
hurry
, Hector,” Jane cried through the window.

Hector scowled and began once again to swear to the Almighty while shouting at the pedestrians from atop the coach.

“Make way… make way!” he yelled at the milling throng.

Soon the carriage pulled up to a stone building labeled Number 28, which faced the harbor. Its weathered facade and fanned windows seemed to Jane to have a reassuring look about them, as did the carved wooden sign, which swung from a wrought-iron elbow.

“Welcome… welcome, ladies, to the Old Ship Hotel,” declared a jovial man who had rushed out of the entranceway to greet them. He executed a courtly bow and quickly offered an arm to both Elizabeth and Jane, steering them around the jumble of sea captain’s trunks stacked near the entrance awaiting transfer to the fleet.

As the rotund proprietor ushered them inside, Jane stared in wonder at the huge staircase and the shiny black panels and wainscoting of the main public room.

“We are here to see my husband, Captain James Maxwell, who is setting sail aboard the
Providence
on the evening tide,” Aunt Elizabeth told their host primly.

“Captain Maxwell… Captain Maxwell…” mused the hotel owner, rubbing his chin. “Why, I believe he and a young lieutenant arrived early this morning and have let rooms for the day!”

Jane’s heart began to race as the innkeeper reached for a large ledger covered with lines of elegant script.

“With more than a thousand vessels comin’ in and out of the port each year, dear ladies, we have numerous captains with us at the Old Ship Hotel.”

“My husband is not a sea captain, sir,” Elizabeth said, bending over his shoulder to take a look at the list herself. “He’s a captain in the Black Watch regiment.” Pointing midway down the ledger, she said, “That’s him, I believe,” indicating a notation that read: Capt. Ja. Maxwell & Lt. Tho. Fraser—#23.

“Ah… certainly, m’lady… that’s the very one I was thinking of… the middle-aged gentleman accompanied by the copper-haired lad. He and Lieutenant Fraser wished to catch forty winks before boarding their vessel.”

“Would you be so kind as to send up someone to inform Captain Maxwell that his wife and niece are here?” Elizabeth asked.

“I fear that ’twill be impossible, mum,” the hotelier said, shaking his head. Gesturing to the dimly lit public room they’d passed as they entered the foyer of the inn, he declared, “The two gentlemen had a wee dram in there an hour or so ago, and then they left.”

Aunt Elizabeth paled visibly. Jane sensed her aunt was already having second thoughts about the wisdom of their afternoon’s journey to Leith. The woman’s shoulders sagged and she turned to leave.

“Wait, Aunt!” Jane exclaimed excitedly. “What about the Bellman of Leith? Perhaps he could find them!”

“If they’ve left the inn,” Elizabeth replied, shaking her head, “’tis probably because they’re setting sail.”

“But the note from Thomas said, ‘We sail on the
evening
tide,’ and there’s at least a good three hours before sunset, Aunt Elizabeth! Let’s engage the Bellman!”

An intermittent clanging could be heard just outside the door of the inn. Jane, without waiting for her aunt’s permission, whirled around from the desk and ran for the door.

“Sir! Sir!” she cried, at the man they’d seen on their arrival in Leith. He was lackadaisically clanging his brass handbell as he ambled down the street calling, “Captain Jennens! Message for you… Captain Jennens!”

Jane dashed across the threshold of the Old Ship Hotel and caught his sleeve. The Bellman of Leith stopped midsentence, apparently startled at being accosted by a lady of quality.

“Please, sir,” Jane pleaded breathlessly, “My aunt and I are trying to locate my uncle Captain James Maxwell. He’s due to sail on the
Providence
tonight, but he may still be somewhere along the quay. Can you help us find him and direct him to this hotel?”

Without waiting for his answer, Jane dug into her reticule for a few pence. The leather-skinned old man took her few coins eagerly, licking his lips as if he already tasted the ale they would purchase and flashing her a smile that revealed the gaps from his missing teeth.

“Captain Maxwell, is it now?” he said, tucking the money into his tattered coat pocket. “I’ll do me best, lass, that’s all I ken promise. I’ll do me best.”

And without another word to her, he tipped his battered tricornered hat and wove unsteadily down the road, clanging his bell and continuing his chant: “Captain Jennens o’ the
Glory
! Captain Maxwell o’ the
Providence
! Captain Jennens! Captain Maxwell!”

The old man was about to turn the corner, heading, Jane feared, for the nearest local tavern. She called after him.

“There might be a tall, redheaded lad with Captain Maxwell! His name is Thomas Fraser!” she shouted as he disappeared from view.

“Jane! Really!” her aunt chided as she emerged from the hotel’s entrance. “Mr. Hyde here says they took their traveling trunks with them.”

“Yes Miss,” the innkeeper agreed, “and I fear our Bellman takes any assignment, whether or not he makes full rounds of the docks before nipping into the pub. Mayhap you’ve paid good silver for naught.”

“Please, Aunt,” Jane pleaded, nearly in tears. “Can’t we wait a while to see if they answer the summons?”

Elizabeth sighed, her face etched with fatigue from the journey as well as her own disappointment.

“At least Mr. Hyde could provide us with a bit of refreshment before our return journey,” Jane added quickly.

“All right,” Elizabeth concurred wanly. “’Twas probably folly to have come at all, but now that we’re here, I could do with a bit o’ barley broth.”

Mr. Hyde led Jane and her aunt to the ladies lounge whose deep-set windows provided a sweeping view of the entire harbor.

The minutes ticked by. After their meal, the plates were cleared by a young servant who stared at them when he thought they weren’t looking. A strange sensation passed through Jane’s chest, fluttering down to her abdomen. It had been so long since she had felt Thomas’s arms around her. For her part, Aunt Elizabeth, her hands calmly resting in her lap, appeared to be absorbed by her own thoughts, as Jane tried to quiet her racing pulse.

“
Elizabeth
! What the Devil!”

Uncle James’s loud exclamation took them both by surprise and the two women bolted simultaneously as the tall soldier strode into the room.

“What are you
doing
here, wife!” he demanded. Then, with a glance at his spouse’s pale cheeks, he added in a softer tone, “Elizabeth… is anything amiss?”

“I will explain everything, James… but, please bid hello to Jane who also made this very uncomfortable journey. She was desperately sorry to have missed you last evening.”

Dumbfounded, Uncle James took his wife’s outstretched hands in his own in an unconscious gesture and looked over at his niece.

“You brought
Jane
down to this bedlam!” he cried in exasperation. “Really, Elizabeth, surely you—of all people—have more good sense! When I heard my name called out by the Bellman, I already had one foot in the launch. I was sure someone had died.”