The Truth by Jane Lark ~ a free book exclusive to my blog ~ part thirty-two

The Truth

© Jane Lark Publishing rights belong to Jane Lark,

this should not be recreated in any form without prior consent from Jane Lark

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17,18 ,19,20,21,22,23,24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31

Emerald

As she slid between the sheets, Emerald’s heart thumped hard within her chest. ‘I love you. I have done so for weeks. I shall give you space and time. I will not speak yet. But I will do so when the time is right… Will you listen to me then?’

He’d said he loved her. He’d kissed her. Richard Farrow. Richard Farrow! Her friends in India would be suffering hysteria if they knew. No one succeeded in becoming close to him. No one really knew him. And he had declared his love for her .

A thousand butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she rolled over and turned her back on her mother’s empty bunk. He’d promised to speak! He was going to offer marriage! She could go home to Calcutta!

Her friends would be green with envy.

‘We can travel. I can show you places, give you the enlightenment and knowledge you long for.’

Her heart beat echoed in her ears. She could have everything she wished for. She need not marry her distant cousin, the stranger, in England. She would be married to a man who loved her. She would be envied in Calcutta. Richard had treated her with respect, and he admired her intellect. In her mind she imaged her marriage. She would learn his business and make herself his equal. She need not submit to him as she would have been forced to submit to her unknown cousin in her English marriage.

A smile parted her lips as sleep claimed her.

***

Once Emerald had dressed in the morning, Mr Bishop knocked on the cabin door and invited her to join the men to break her fast. “…The consensus of opinion, Miss, is that you should not be left alone.”

She accepted and wrapped one of her mother’s shawls about her shoulders. She’d found it out this morning, seeking the comfort of her mother’s smell.

Her hand lay on Mr Bishop’s arm to walk across the deck, while Rita walked behind them.

When Mr Bishop opened the door of the day cabin, she was greeted by the sight of Mr Swallow and Richard leaning over the charts that were spread out on the table.

She walked across the room, to look at the charts, as Richard straightened and turned. He smiled at her and the look in his eyes was endearing. I love you, he’d said last night.

She glanced at the door where they’d sat together. It was still unlocked, she had hidden the key again but left it open.

Her gaze turned back to him, and she smiled too, then looked at Mr Swallow who’d also straightened. She and Richard had a secret to hide from him – from everyone.

“Good morning, Mr Swallow,” she said as Richard came forward. Then she turned and offered her hand to Richard.

“Miss Martin.” He held her hand and bowed over it.

Tremors skimmed up her arm. Last night he had kissed her mouth and her tongue had danced with his.

When he let go of her hand, she could sense her blush. Her gaze focused on Mr Swallow. “Where are we currently?”

Mr Swallow pointed at their position on the map as Richard walked away. She was intensely aware of Richard, her body hummed in recognition of his proximity as the maps were rolled up and put aside. Then all through breakfast she kept glancing at him, but he showed not one single sign of any deeper attachment. She could have dreamt last night. But she had not.

The men rallied about her for the rest of the day, watching over her, speaking to her constantly, taking it in turns to entertain her on the deck, or in the day cabin, playing cards or chess, conversing or perambulating about the rails with her. Though, she refused to speak to Dr Steel, she had not forgiven him for his lies. But Richard, in everyone else’s presence, he kept his distance, showing no sign of attachment and treating her as the others did. She longed for the night to come. To discover what would happen next.

When she slipped through door into the day cabin after dark, Richard was there, looking at the charts, his evening coat and waistcoat removed, his hands leaning on the table as an oil lamp swung from a hook above him.

“You were waiting for me…”

“No. I am looking at the charts.” But despite his denial he opened his arms to receive her as she ran across the room to him.

He kissed her for a long time, and then his head bowed and his breath was hot and heavy against her neck as his hands gripped her waist with the strength of iron bars, holding her away.

When his head lifted, his eyes shone with a strange brightness. “You should go to bed, Emma. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

She went to him again the next night.

The following day after they’d eaten breakfast, Mr Swallow walked ahead of them with Rita, out on to the deck. Emerald stopped and grasped Richard’s coat sleeve, to stop him, then pulled him behind the door and rose on to her toes and pressed her lips against his. She was tired of his stone like denial in the daytime, it had become annoying. Insulting.

His fingers had clasped her nape and he kissed her hard for an instant, brushing his tongue into her mouth before pulling away with a smile. Then he straightened his coat and turned away holding out his hand, bidding her exit first.

Pride swelled in her chest, denying all her grief as she walked past him, letting her skirt brush his legs. But then she caught Rita’s gaze, there was judgement in Rita’s eyes. But Emerald need not explain herself to her maid.

She went Richard in the day cabin again that night, and during the next day he found two opportunities to pull her about corners out of sight and kiss her briefly.

But on the sixth day of their trysting, she admitted a truth to herself – she was in love. With Richard Farrow! The silent, dark, secretive man she’d often watched from a distance in Calcutta and called cold, and hated. He was not cold but kind, and caring. Respectful. Dependable. He was two men. The business man who walked among his crew in the day and the one who kissed her and whispered words of love to her.

But she was his secret now, and he was hers. She knew the second man, the fire and warmth within him that he never showed to others.

To be continued…

The Marlow Intrigues: Perfect for lovers of period drama, like Victoria and Poldark.

The Lost Love of Soldier ~ The Prequel #1 ~ A Christmas Elopement began it all

The Illicit Love of a Courtesan #2

Capturing The Love of an Earl ~ A Free Novella #2.5

The Passionate Love of a Rake #3

The Desperate Love of a Lord ~ A second Free Novella #3.5

The Scandalous Love of a Duke #4

The Dangerous Love of a Rogue #5

The Jealous Love of a Scoundrel #5.5

The Persuasive Love of a Libertine #5.75 now included in Jealous Love, (or free if you can persuade Amazon to price match with Kobo ebooks) 😉

The Secret Love of a Gentleman #6

The Reckless Love of an Heir #7

Jane’s books can be ordered from most booksellers in paperback and, yes, there are more to come

Go to the index

For

the story of the real courtesan who inspired The Illicit Love of a Courtesan,
another free short story, about characters from book #2, A Lord’s Scandalous Love,
the prequel excerpts for book #3 The Scandalous Love of a Duke

Jane Lark is a writer of authentic, passionate and emotional Historical and New Adult Romance stories, and the author of a No.1 bestselling Historical Romance novel in America, ‘The Illicit Love of a Courtesan’.Click here to find out more about Jane’s books, and see Jane’s website www.janelark.co.uk to learn more about Jane. Or click ‘like’ on Jane’s Facebook page to see photo’s and learn historical facts from the Georgian, Regency and Victorian eras, which Jane publishes there. You can also follow Jane on twitter at @janelark

The Truth by Jane Lark ~ a free book exclusive to my blog ~ part thirty

The Truth

© Jane Lark Publishing rights belong to Jane Lark,

this should not be recreated in any form without prior consent from Jane Lark

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18 , 19,20,21,22,23,24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29

Chapter Ten

Emerald

As Rita undid the buttons at the back of Emerald’s dress, Emerald stared at the letter lying on her bed, at her name written in her mother’s hand. She had let them push her mother’s body over the side of the ship today. She would never see her again and already the memory of her mother’s face was fading, the details were not there and behind her, her mother’s bunk was empty, shouting it should not be vacant.

It felt as though the cabin walls were crushing her.

Emma fought to keep her breathing steady, and fought not to slip into insanity.

She had to be strong. There was no one else but herself to rely upon. Yet she wanted to scream, to throw things about the room, to upend the trunks and strew the contents across the floor. Why had Dr Steel not told her!? Why had her mother not told her!? Why? Why? Why?

Emerald kept breathing as she stepped out of her dress. Then Rita began unlacing her corset. In. Out. She would not go mad. She would not fall to pieces. She would be strong. In.Out. She was the Governor of Calcutta’s daughter, the great-granddaughter of a duke. She could not let her father down. She only had to reach England. Once she reached England she could plan how to get home.

But… I just want to go home. The words whispered through her thoughts repeatedly as Rita removed her corset. Then the tapes of her petticoats loosened. In. Out. In. Out. She stepped out of the pool of her petticoats.

So much for adventure. So much for something more to be found in life. She wanted nothing more than what she’d always known.

Rita lifted Emerald’s chemise and pulled it over Emerald’s head and then Emerald took over, untying her drawers, feeling like a fraying rope. She slipped them off and took her nightgown from Rita’s hands. The cotton was cool and it smelt fresh as it tumbled over her head and slithered down her body. “Thank you, Rita, you may retire.”

Rita was now Emerald’s maid, her responsibility. “Can you change by the moonlight? If so would you turn down the oil lamp?”

“Yes, Miss.” Rita was distressed too, she had been crying half the day. She had been with Emerald’s family all her life. She turned her back to Emerald as she started to undress.

Emerald sat on the edge of her bunk, facing her mother’s empty bunk, and picked up the letter, then broke the seal. For a moment Emerald just looked at the writing illuminated only by the silver moonlight now that Rita had turned down the oil lamp. Such familiar writing that would never be formed again. Emerald looked at the empty bunk with sadness flowing through her heart as her eyes adjusted to the dark.

She could see to read the words her mother had written when she looked back down. They explained what Dr Steel had said, that she was ill, she’d been ill for months and that was partly the reason for this journey to England; she had wanted to see Emerald married before her passing. But since boarding the ship her illness had worsened. She’d spoken to Dr Steel but asked him not to speak of it because she hoped to reach England.

The letter said, if Emerald was reading it, her mother had not succeeded in reaching England. She wished Emerald to know how much she was loved, and how sorry she was for making this foolish journey and leaving Emerald alone. But Emerald was to trust Mr Farrow, he would take her to her family in England.

Rita lay down on her mattress on the floor to sleep.

Tomorrow Emerald would tell Rita to use the other bunk. But not tonight. Tonight she could not bear her mother’s place to be taken by someone else. Emerald read the letter over again, absorbing every word.

Rita’s breathing changed, implying that she’d drifted into sleep.

Emerald read her letter again. She read it a dozen times, her fingers shaking with the pain of holding in tears. But she could not let the tears escape, it would wake Rita. A part of her wished to go outside and walk about the deck in the darkness, to be alone with the sky and the stars, but she was in her nightdress and she would not be alone there would be sailors on the deck. Yet… Pain and grief screamed within her. She wanted to do what Rita had done this morning, to fall on the floor and wail out her misery, and this small cabin was trapping her in.

The day cabin.

The day cabin would be empty. She’d heard the men retire, saying goodnight to one another. No one would be in there and there was a key among her mother’s things that would open the door from her cabin into there.

She set aside the letter, then slipped quietly off the bunk and knelt before her mother’s bunk. She slowly pulled open the drawer beneath it. Rita did n0t stir. Emerald’s fingers shook as she turned over her mother’s clothes searching for the feel of a key.

There. The cold awkwardly shaped steel caught on her finger, she grasped the key in her fist, then pushed the drawer shut.

When she stood, her legs felt as wobbly as aspic, and so she stepped carefully over the corner of Rita’s mattress. The key fitted in the lock and turned easily. Emerald pushed the door open, then stepped into the day cabin that was full of the shadows of night which the moon threw about the room as the ship swayed on the waves.

The only sign that the cabin had been occupied an hour previously was the white tablecloth that still covered the table.

Emerald shut the door and gave in to her grief; leaning back against the wood and sliding down. She needed a moment, just a moment, to allow this to overwhelm her, then she would hide it away again and pretend it was not there.

Her knees bent up before her and her hands pressed over her face covering it as she cried, letting the knot of pain which had been tied about her throat for hours loosen…