My Sister's Prayer (39 page)

“Did the clouds part? Can you see the moon?” she asked.

“No to the moon, but I can see some stars.”

“Can you see the North Star?” Perhaps they were destined to never see the stars at the same time. They had never been on the deck of the
Royal Mary
at night together. And the night in Constable Wharton's field, she'd been too tired to crawl out from under the canopy of the tree to look at the stars. If only she had.

“No, the North Star isn't visible. All of the Big Dipper is covered with clouds.”

They talked about the stars and then more about their families throughout the night. Spenser asked about Emmanuel. Celeste explained his position in the family as oldest son. Their parents hoped he could start a business that would employ the younger brothers. “They were working toward a paper mill,” Celeste said. “Our uncle from France had some ideas.” Now all of that had been put on hold thanks to her foolishness.

“And what about George?”

Her face burned as she spoke. “His father is a weaver, but he's not fond of the work. He'd much rather be involved in running an inn.” George's family was poorer than hers, and not as educated, but they were good people.

“He seems quite fond of you.”

“Seemed,” Celeste corrected.

“Why do you say that?”

“It-it was assumed we would soon be betrothed.”

“Oh.”

Before daybreak, Spenser stood and began pacing back and forth until the sun rose. As the light transformed the world, Celeste heard the rattling of keys and then Jones asking, “How was your night?”

Celeste didn't answer him.

“Are you freeing her, then?” Spenser asked.

“Yes,” Jones answered. “Horn left this morning. He was satisfied with one night in the pillory as punishment. He has no lasting wounds. He's not pressing charges.”

“How is Sary?” Celeste asked.

“Probably worthless as a cook.” Jones sighed. “Edwards bought her outright from Horn, which undoubtedly he'll regret.”

Tears stung Celeste's eyes again. She was relieved that Mr. Horn no longer owned Sary, but she feared for the woman's future nonetheless. Could Mr. Edwards afford to keep her and take on another cook as well?

Jones jangled his keys. “Captain Bancroft scolded Horn last night for being so selfish to insist the kitchen maid be punished at the expense of feeding him and his sailors. He threatened not to return if such antics continued, and he said other captains will become leery of making the voyage up the James if we don't treat them well.” The keys dangled from Jones's hand.

“That's true,” Spenser answered. “And we wouldn't want that. We'd have even less food and goods.”

Jones patted his stomach, the keys jangling again as he did.

“Did my brother speak with you?” Celeste asked, trying to turn her head.

“He did. Now he's with Edwards, negotiating your contract. He's concerned about how far his money will go.” With that, Jones opened the lock and lifted away the heavy piece from her hands and head.

Celeste gasped. But as she tried to straighten, her relief evaporated into a dizzy haze. Immediately, Spenser jumped forward and caught her before she could fall. Her legs had long ago gone numb, and she
couldn't manage to stand on her own. She leaned heavily against him as Jones left without even saying goodbye. If Spenser hadn't been with her, she would be crawling back home.

Home?
The thought startled her. Home was in London, not Virginia. And certainly not above the kitchen of an inn.

Yet she longed to get back to Sary to see how she was doing, nearly as much as she wanted Emmanuel and George to begin their journey to free Berta. Sary had become important to her. Celeste couldn't imagine, come what may, leaving her behind.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-F
IVE

Celeste

N
o one was in the kitchen when Spenser helped Celeste inside. A pot of corn porridge bubbled over the fire, and Spenser quickly dished up a bowl for her. At least the numbness was gone from her legs, though pain and exhaustion still radiated throughout her body as she sat down to eat.

Once she was finished with the porridge, Spenser asked, “Can you manage the ladder?”

“I think so.”

“I'll wait until you're in the loft. Then I'll go find Mr. Edwards and tell him you're back but need to rest.”

She nodded, too tired to thank him. He helped her up the first several rungs and then she continued on by herself. Once she reached the top, she stared at a sleeping Sary, wanting to check her friend's hand but not wanting to wake her. Instead, Celeste stripped out of her wet clothes and collapsed on her pallet, wrapping herself in her single blanket. The next thing she knew, the light in the room had shifted and it was afternoon. Sary knelt beside her with a glass of water, which Celeste
quickly drained, and then Sary unwrapped a piece of bread from a clean cloth, which Celeste hungrily devoured.

“How is your hand?” Celeste asked.

Sary held it up. It was wrapped in strips of fabric.

“May I look?”

Sary nodded.

Celeste carefully unwrapped the rags. The burn was red, deeply blistered, and oozing puss. She had to tug on the strips of fabric, though she did that as gently as possible. She knew the pain had to be horrible.

“Did the doctor give you anything to put on it?”

Sary shook her head.

“I'll get some salve for you.” Celeste wondered why the physician hadn't given Sary anything. The thumb and finger seemed to have fused together regardless of Celeste's efforts, and she didn't want to try to force them apart. She would talk to the physician to see what he recommended. Now that she was rested and feeling a bit better, it would take only a few minutes to go to his shop.

First, though, she needed to find Emmanuel and George. She hoped they had made plans to go to Norfolk for Berta.

Sore but steady, she washed, put on her other set of clothes, and took her dirty things down to the laundry. Linens were piled high. Obviously, Aline had been overwhelmed with the extra work from the sailors being in port, not to mention the extra work created by her absence and Sary's injury. She dropped her small pile on top of the sheets.

As she left the laundry, she caught sight of Mr. Edwards in the chicken coop, gathering eggs. He was probably considering making some sort of light dinner. Thankfully, they wouldn't have many patrons tonight with the ship leaving.

Celeste hurried toward the inn. Aline held a tray of empty mugs as she came out the door. “Oh, good! You're back.”

“Give me just a minute,” Celeste said. “I need to speak with my brother.”

“Your brother?”

“Emmanuel.”

Aline's eyes lit up. “He's your brother?”

Celeste nodded.

“How about the other lad?”

“A friend,” Celeste answered. “From London.”

“I see,” she said. “Ten minutes. Then you take over the serving. I have laundry to do—and I'm running out of daylight.”

“I saw. And added to it. Sorry.” Celeste slipped through the door and into the inn and then called over her shoulder, “Oh, and I need to go to the physician's too. So maybe fifteen minutes.”

Aline groaned. “Hurry!”

Celeste found Emmanuel and George in the dining room surrounded by men—soldiers, townspeople, and a few sailors. Perhaps she still would have a chance to thank the first mate of the
Royal Mary
for delivering her letter.

Emmanuel was talking about the recent elections in London and how fiercely they were fought. “There was mob violence in several areas.”

“Excuse me,” Celeste said.

George stood to greet her. Emmanuel kept on talking. “But the balance between the Tories and Whigs ended up being fairly even.” He had always taken after their father in keeping up with what was going on in the world.

She cleared her throat.

Her brother noticed her then and stood too. Smiling, he said, “I see you survived.”

“Yes.”

“I can't finalize the amount I'm able to pay Edwards for your contract until I find out what the situation with Berta is. That means George and I will be staying in Virginia longer than we thought. We'll have to return home on a later ship, something other than the
Royal Mary
.”

Celeste nodded, swallowing hard, pleased she wouldn't have to say a final goodbye to him yet. “When do you plan to leave for Norfolk?”

“Spenser is thinking he can go with us. He's making the arrangements.”

“Oh,” she said. Of course he'd want to go.

“He has a delivery to make,” George added. “He'll combine the trips.”

“Oh,” Celeste said again. She contemplated apologizing to George for how she'd treated him but decided to do it later. She grabbed a piece of bread and a hunk of cheese from the plate on the table and hurried out of the dining room. She needed to stop by the physician's and then get back to the kitchen as soon as possible.

A few minutes later, swallowing the last of the food, Celeste ducked into the apothecary. The physician stood at the counter, pulling dried leaves off a stem. She quickly explained who she was and her concern for Sary's hand. “Will she have the use of it?”

The man shook his head. “The thumb and finger already fused. I'd have to cut them apart.”

Celeste tried to control her emotions. “They were separated right after the accident.”

He shrugged. “The dressing had to be changed.”

“Then will you cut them?”

“No. She would barely let me touch her.”

“She let me.”

“Well, you should have stuck around to help,” he said, a smirk on his face.

If Benjamin had been allowed to fetch him before going for the constable, she would have been there to help him instead of being in the pillory. “Do you have a salve I could use on her hand?”

“Lard will do.”

“Do you have anything for her pain?”

The man shook his head. “She can handle it.”

Tears stung Celeste's eyes. She was horrified by his treatment of Sary. “Good day,” she said, quickly leaving before he could see her tears. She had no patience for his lack of empathy. She walked as quickly as she could toward the woods. Before she reached the creek, she could hear the hum of the mill. Matthew and the other man were feeding logs through the saw. She headed up the trail to the shop.

Spenser was arranging chairs in the back of the wagon as she approached.

“Celeste!” He jumped down. “How are you? I see your legs are working again.”

She nodded, although they ached now from walking. “I heard you're going to Norfolk.” Her voice wavered a little as she spoke. Perhaps she was still weak from her ordeal. And emotional.

“I thought I could help Emmanuel and George.”

“And Berta.”

“Of course. But you didn't come all this way for that. What do you need?”

“I know you probably don't have much of it, but the burn salve. Could you spare some for Sary?” She held out her hands to show him. “It helped me, and I'm hoping it will help her.”

“Of course.” He smiled. “I'll go get it.”

She waited while he ran into the shop. When he returned, he handed her the little pot.

“What's in it?” she asked, grateful for his generosity but feeling guilty for using up even more of his limited supply.

“Mostly seaberries, from back home. It's what my father used for burns.”

“Oh, dear,” Celeste said. “Do those grow around here? Can you make more?”

He shook his head. “But I'll learn what's used here. Put more on your burns too. And tell Emmanuel and George I'll meet them at the dock.”

Celeste nodded. “I will. Have a good trip.” She turned and hurried away.

“Celeste!” Spenser called out.

She stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Yes?”

He hesitated. Then he said, “I'll see you when I get back.”

She waved and continued on, walking into the wind. Berta would be with him when he returned. She felt pangs of something uncomfortable, something she didn't recognize. But as she continued walking, it struck her: jealousy. And not jealous in the sense that Berta had
what she wanted, which was a good man like Spenser. She didn't want a good man like Spenser.

She wanted Spenser.

Was it possible she loved him? Her knees grew weak at the thought.

Why had he protected her through the night when he loved Berta? Why had he been so good to her? She sighed. He was only being kind. He had no idea how he'd endeared himself to her. How he'd nurtured her love.