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

Chapter Nine

Emerald

When Emerald woke in the morning, it was as if she had slept the sleep of three nights in one she had been so deeply asleep. She felt as though she was swimming her way up from the bottom of the sea. Dr Steel had prescribed something to help her sleep and it had worked.

He’d spoken to her on the deck in the afternoon to reassure her he would do all he could for her mother and then persuaded Emerald a goodnight’s sleep would make her feel less anxious.

Last night she’d dined with her mother and helped her eat a little, then she had undressed and taken the concoction Dr Steel had sent to the cabin. She’d fallen asleep listening to the masculine voices talking in low hushed tones next door and picturing Richard’s face, when he had looked at her with kindness and concern. His eyes had hovered through her dreams, his words whispering into her sleep, ‘Whatever happens, Emma, just remember you are not alone’.

She yawned and  sat upright, stretching. It was full daylight.

Rita was kneeling in the corner before a chest, praying to a small figure of one of her Hindu Gods, which she had placed on the chest.

Emerald got up as she looked at her mother. She was lying still and silent, looking even paler than yesterday. One of her arms rested on top of the covers.

Emerald leant to hold her mother’s hand. It was really cold, and limp.

“Mama.” Emerald said softly. Her mother’s hand did not move at all and nor did her eyes open. “Mama.” Emerald squeezed her mother’s hand and shook it a little. There was still no response.  “Mama!” Fear swept the lingering cloak of sleep aside, and Emerald grasped her mother’s shoulder and shook her hard. “Mama!” She did not wake but she was breathing, her chest was lifting and lowering slightly.

“Mama!” Emerald cried again, shaking her harder, but there was no response.

The air clogged in Emerald’s throat and her breaths became a choking sound as she turned away, opened the door and left the cabin, panic roared at her as she ran across the quarterdeck. She tripped on the hem of her nightgown and stumbled, falling to her knees, then scrambled up and carried on.

Richard

Richard sat among his senior crew, eating breakfast, as they scanned the charts and planned for the day ahead. Then the cabin suddenly burst open. He turned to look, as they all did. Emma stood there, holding the door wide, wearing her nightgown and nothing else, and her hair was loose hanging to her waist in a fluid gold veil.

Richard rose, as the chairs scraped on the wooden floor as they all stood hurriedly.

Emerald’s breathing was unsteady and her gaze darted about them. “My mother!” She yelled at Richard. “She will not wake! Where is Dr Steel.”

Richard moved in an instant. “Fetch Duncan.” The order was cast across his shoulder as he took Emerald’s arm. “Is she breathing?”

“She is, but she will not open her eyes and she does not move,” Emma’s words were rushed out in a panicked voice.

He lead her back across the deck, his strides long and his teeth gritting. He had not expected this to come so soon. Hours, Duncan had said only the day before yesterday, or months. Richard had hoped for months.

When he reached their cabin, he let go of Emma’s arm and sat on the edge of Catherine’s bunk. She was whiter than the sheet and her chest barely lifted when she breathed. he held her hand, then lifted one eyelid to look into her eye. The dark pupil at the centre of her eye did not even move. It was as though she had slipped into the afterlife already but had not yet finished breathing.

Violent curses shouted through his head. At the far end of Catherine’s bunk her maid prayed for Catherine’s soul.

Still gripping Catherine’s hand, he laid his other hand on her forehead. She was intensely cold, she had very little life left in her body.

“I am here.”

Richard looked up as Duncan shut the door behind him. “Her vision has gone. She is unconscious and cold as ice.” He stood up as he spoke, getting out of Duncan’s way.

When Duncan sat on the bunk, Richard held Emma in his arms. She’d been standing motionless, solidified by fear. His mind sought words that might ease her pain. But there were none.

She’d been crying yesterday and desperate for comfort, now she was stiff and unreceptive as he sought to offer it. “Emma.” he whispered, his hand running over her loose hair. Behind him Duncan called Catherine’s name, attempting to stir her. “It will be all right?”

“No.” Emma drew away, pulling free from Richard’s hold. “No! It is not right! ”

She pushed past Richard and pushed Duncan aside, then dropped to her knees and gripped her mother’s hand, her shock turning to anger. Then her weeping became shouting. “Mama! Mama! You cannot leave me! You cannot!”

Richard gripped Emma’s shoulders, and tried to draw her back, her shoulders rocked from side to side and her arm swung out to push him away. But there was no benefit to her kneeling at Catherine’s bed and yelling at her.

His grip firmed and he pulled her up from floor and on to his lap as he sat down on Emerald’s bunk while she wrestled to be free, screaming and crying. Her body was slender and her skin warm beneath the thin cotton nightgown.

“Miss Martin!” Duncan barked at her, to make her hear some sense. “Your mother may yet hear you! This fuss will distress her, not help her!”

Immediately Emma’s battle against Richard stopped, and her cries died to a stilted sob.

He let her go. She span away to return to her mother’s side, kneeling on the floor again. Duncan grasped her hands. “She will not recover, Miss Martin. It is a only matter of time before she goes now. Will you make her last hours painful or allow her to pass peacefully?”

It was harsh, telling this young woman she must be strong when she was miles away from home, in the middle of nowhere, on a ship with men she barely knew, watching her mother die. But there was no other choice, Emma had to endure this, she could not choose to get up and walk away.

A sharp pain twisted in Richard’s gut, with the turn of a blade, as he watched Emma pull herself together, drawing on the strength which he’d known was within her. She pulled her hands from Duncan’s, then held one of Catherine’s hands in both of hers, and leaned closer to Catherine’s ear.

“I love you. I will miss you.” He heard her whisper. “I don’t want you to go.” She took a deep breath then said, “I will tell Papa you say goodbye and tell him you love him. And you know we love you, we always will, whether you are here or not.”

The emotion of empathy gritted as a pain in his gut, and he thought he could take no more, but then she turned away from Catherine, suddenly, still on her knees, and gripped Richard about the waist as he still sat on her bunk. Her forehead pressed on to his thigh.

Lord. God help them both.

His palm fell on top of her hair as he met Duncan’s gaze.

Richard had fallen in love with this young woman for her vibrancy, her beauty and intelligence, and now he must face her tragedy. His hand ran over her hair then rested on her shoulder. He could feel the quietened sobs jolting her body.

“Emma,” he whispered out of affection alone. Then he gripped her arms and drew her up so she knelt upright between his legs, and he held her against his chest, ignoring the presence of both Duncan and Rita, as her arms reached about his neck and she wept quietly.

He held Emma thus for half-an-hour as Duncan sat with Catherine’s hand in his, continually attempting to stir some response. There was none.

To be continued…

 The Marlow Intrigues

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

Richard

Duncan smiled, in a consoling way. “Do not fret, Miss Martin, it will do you no good to worry.”

It was Duncan’s standard answer when the subject of Catherine’s health was raised, he was avoiding lying, but every man at the table knew the truth.

Emerald was not to be fobbed off tonight, however.

Her eyebrows lifted, her direct gaze challenging Duncan, as she whispered harshly, “I am going to fret, Dr Steel.” Her voice lowering so it would not pass through the cabin wall. “She is my mother. What I wish to know is what is wrong with her, and what can be done to help her?” The strain of her mother’s illness was cracking her ladylike veneer. Leaning a little forward and lifting her knife she pointed its tip at Duncan. “She hardly eats. You have seen how weak she is and she is getting weaker by the day. There is something wrong, Dr Steel, and she will never get well if she cannot eat. Please stop treating me like a child and find out what it is, and help her to eat.”

So that had been the argument they’d heard through the wall last night, Emma insisting her mother ate, and, Richard presumed, the reason for Catherine’s appearance at the dining table tonight.

“Miss Martin,” he interjected. Her gaze spun from Duncan to him. “I trust Duncan’s judgment. If there is anything he can do to help, he will.” It was another platitude. He was no better than Duncan, trying to distract her fears without speaking either the truth or a lie. Tomorrow he would try and persuade Catherine to tell Emma. Emma should know. Not knowing was hurting her as much as the truth would.

Her gaze condemned him with anger and frustration. She did not appreciate him siding with Duncan.

“Eat, Miss Martin,” Richard said, more kindly, urging her to let this pass. “Your dinner is becoming cold.”

Sorrow suddenly flooded her eyes, in place of the anger. There was no more she could do, there was no more any of them could do.

She looked down at her plate and did eat.

She was silent then, eating her food and ignoring their attempts to make her talk, apparently lost in thought.

As soon as the meal was finished she excused herself. None of them pressed her to stay. The atmosphere was affected even as she rose to leave and Richard heard her ask Mark, just as the cabin door shut behind them. “Please tell me you agree that something is very wrong? She is seriously ill, isn’t she? Why does Dr Steel not see it?”

Richard looked at Duncan and Duncan looked at him, as Joseph and Philip shared glances too.

There was no easy end to this.

“I will try to persuade Mrs Martin to tell her daughter tomorrow,” Duncan said.

“I will come with you,” Richard answered. “This cannot continue.”

“No, it cannot,” Duncan agreed.

None of them stayed at table then, no one was in the mood for merriment after that torturous meal. But when Duncan rose with the others to leave, Richard caught his arm and held him back. “Tell me, how long she is likely to live?”

Duncan frowned, “I cannot say, Richard, days, weeks, hours, who knows? I have to say that Miss Martin is right, though, if her mother ate she is likely to live longer. Mrs Martin needs energy to maintain her fight against this illness, as the days pass I am more and more convinced she has ceased trying to live.”

Richard had no idea what to say. He let Duncan leave and turned to the decanters to pour a drink. His old self––the man who’d boarded this ship––who didn’t know how to feel empathy––would have felt concern, nothing more, he would not have been moved by this in the least. The man standing here, now, a brandy in his hand, could not determine why he felt the emotion of empathy so deeply. It seemed that falling in love with someone meant you felt what they felt. To watch Emma in pain was intolerable, her pain echoed through him.

But that pain convinced him. He had tumbled for the woman. I am in love. Callous, cold hearted Richard Farrow––sour faced business man––debonair adventurer–wastrel son… He had been called so many names over the years, and not one of those that had called him names would have believed him capable of love.

He sighed out. But this pain, screamed the truth, and he was in no position to comfort the woman to take away her suffering, he could only suffer alongside her.

He shut his eyes and sipped the liquid in the glass. It burned down his throat. The words in his throat wanted to be spoken, I love you, you have become dear to me. I want you... But he could not speak of such selfish things now. She was promised to a cousin in England, and worried about her mother, the declaration of his feelings and desire would have to be managed with judgement.

When he docked he’d only intended staying a week or two in England, the thought of enduring the reunion with his family a burden he did not seek to prolong. But now he’d stay. He’d spend the season there and watch over her. With her mother so ill, Emma would need someone and he would make his offer before any final agreement could be made with her cousin.

He had hope of being accepted and her cousin being cast aside because he knew of her love for India, if she married him she could return there and  he could show her the world. No other man in England would offer her that. He could give her ‘the something different’ she craved and let her fulfil her parents’ wish to see her married to an English Peer.

He also hoped that she had feelings for him. The way she looked at him at times had implied it.

*     *     *

Emerald

In the dark cabin, Emerald wept quietly, sitting on the edge of her bunk, her feet on the floor and her palms covering her face. What was there to do? She had become powerless. There was nothing she could do to help her mother.

In the morning, as Rita helped her sit up in the bed, Emerald’s mother apologised for leaving Emerald alone at the table.

Emerald dismissed it. The time for berating had passed. Distressing her mother would not help. Instead she held her mother’s hand and apologised for her anger the night before last, then she said, ‘I love you.’

Her mother’s thin fingers closed tighter about Emerald’s. “I know dear. I love you too. But you must promise me, when we reach England, you will go to your cousin, the Earl’s. It is all arranged, I want you to be happy. This is your legacy, this life, you should have this opportunity. Swear to me you will do as we have agreed, dear?”

Emotion clasped at the back of Emerald’s throat, a clump of tears. She nodded rose and turned away, but her mother held her hand still and pulled to make her turn back. “Promise me.” She spoke as though Emerald would be going alone.

“Of course, Mama, it is what you wish. It is why we are here.” Her mother’s family had turned their backs on the daughter who had eloped with a clerk in the East India Company. The marriage she had managed to arrange for Emerald was an acceptance her mother had craved for years.

To be continued…

 The Marlow Intrigues