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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, 67, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18 , 19, 20, 21, 22,23, 24

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Emerald

When the cabin boy came to collect their breakfast things, Mr Bishop was with him, and he told Emerald that Dr Steel would be there directly and offered to stroll about the deck with Emerald so that Dr Steel could speak with her mother privately. She accepted, glad she had no need to press Dr Steel again and knowing her mother would wish to speak with him alone.

Emerald put on her bonnet and shawl, her heart beating hard as she left her mother with Rita and stepped out into the sunshine. On the deck, she gripped the crook of Mr Bishop’s arm and let him lead her along the port side, by the rail.

“Do you feel better this morning, Miss Martin, I am aware you were upset last night?”

She looked about the rim of her bonnet, at him. “I am less emotional, Mr Bishop, but we are speaking of my mother––of course I am upset. Would you not be upset if it was your mother at table last night?”

He did not reply. Instead he looked ahead and changed the subject.

She longed to knock the men’s heads together. None of them would speak of her mother’s illness. None of them were taking it seriously. She was fighting a losing battle, and fighting it alone. All they did was change the subject.

Then she saw Dr Steel exit the lower deck with Mr Farrow following, striding briskly they headed for her cabin, looking determined. Emerald watched them as she and Mr Bishop reached the corner of the quarterdeck and turned toward starboard.

When Dr Steel knocked, the cabin door opened and then Mr Farrow walked into the cabin with him.

She looked at Mr Bishop. “Why is Mr Farrow accompanying Dr Steel?”

He looked nonchalantly down at her with the air of a man who was lying through his teeth, “I don’t know, Miss Martin, but I should think Mr Farrow would wish to see how Mrs Martin is fairing after last evening.”

He knew, she would swear he knew. She let go of his arm and turned back. Something was going on.

 

Richard

“Catherine, I shan’t stay. But I have come to beg you to tell Miss Martin the truth. Not knowing it is tearing her apart. At least if she knew she could begin to come to terms––.”

The door was thrust open when Richard had barely begun the speech he had been crafting all night as he’d lain in his bunk unable to sleep.

It was Emma.

Her eyes looked to her mother then to Duncan and then to him as she stood with the door handle still in her hand. “Why are you here, Mr Farrow?” There was suspicion in her pitch.

Mark, whom Richard could see standing behind her, mouthed, “Sorry.”

Richard rose and smiled at her. He’d sat on Emma’s bunk to avoid towering over Catherine. “I am merely expressing my concern for your mother’s health, Miss Martin. Would you like me to keep you company while Duncan speaks with Catherine?” Catherine knew Richard’s opinion now anyway.

Emma’s skin turned a vivid scarlet, as she nodded. The poor woman was uncertain of everything due to her mother’s worsening health.

A deep breath left his lungs as Richard turned back to Catherine. “Catherine, pray listen to Duncan, he is a wise man. He’ll have you well again.”

She met his gaze. They both knew she would never be well again. Richard turned back to her daughter. “Miss Martin,” he stated, walking forward and lifting his forearm for her to hold, forgetting caution, or rather casting it a drift. She needed him.

Her slender fingers curled tightly about his arm as they passed through the cabin door. It reminded him of the hours he’d sat beside her in the darkness when her bare hand had grasped his.

He sent Mark off to do his work with a nod and then began their promenade along the side of the deck.

“Well tell me what you think?” she said looking up at him with her intent challenging gaze. No one else was close enough to hear.

“Miss Martin, what do you expect me to say to you? She is ill. I can say no more.”

Sighing, she looked away, frustrated and looking careworn. The gloved fingers of his free hand covered hers on his arm. “Emma,” she looked back, “forgive me, I mean, Miss Martin. I do understand, believe me. I know you are afraid for her. I am here if you need me, as are the others. You need not bear this by yourself.”

“You may call me, Emma, if you wish,” she whispered, her soul reaching out to him through her eyes. She was in need of comfort.

He pressed his hand harder over her fingers, walking slowly on. “Then I’d be honoured if you would call me, Richard.”

She smiled, but it did not touch the sadness in her eyes. He’d lay odds on the fact she’d not slept again last night, there were dark shadows beneath those beautiful eyes.

“Emma,” he said, then, “Let me repeat. You are not alone. Do you understand? I have watched you carrying this concern for your mother  and I know it is difficult. You must share it with me, I will help willingly.”

“I don’t know what to do,” she said then, as they turned at the corner of the quarterdeck. “I just wish I knew what was wrong? What to do? What can I do?”

Forgetting the crewmen scattered about the deck and Philip at the wheel, and Mark who was currently sending a man up the rigging, Richard curved his fingers about those gripping his arm and held them. “You are doing what you can, Emma. You are being a comfort to her, encouraging her to eat and ensuring Dr Steel is watching over her, you can do no more than that.”

Her bright blue eyes glittered, with gratitude in their depths. He could see she felt out of her depth. He squeezed her hand again. “Whatever happens, Emma, just remember you are not alone.”

She nodded then, clearly too emotional to speak. He felt a lump catch in his throat then realised they’d stopped walking and noted some of the crew staring. With determination he looked away from her and walked on, relaxing his fingers over hers and letting his hand fall away.

“What will you do when you reach London?” he asked to change the subject, noting the women’s cabin door open and Duncan signal the cabin boy. He turned his shoulder, facing Emma a little more, in the hope that Emma would not notice the activity from her cabin, and kept her talking and walking. A few moments later the boy returned to the women’s cabin with the writing desk from the day cabin.

“Why would Dr Steel need the writing desk,” Emma asked as she saw that.

“To make a note of your mother’s symptoms, I should think, so he may consider the details.” Lies tripped too easily from Richard’s tongue he was sure, but most of the morals of western society had deserted him long ago.

They’d walked about the deck ten times, talking all the while, before Duncan reappeared from the cabin.

Immediately Emma chose to desert Richard––proving he had not distracted her mind at all.

It suited him though. He wanted to speak to Duncan.

Emma let go of Richard’s arm outside the cabin door and bobbed a slight curtsy. Before she could turn away though, he caught hold of her hand then bowed over it, just as slightly as she had curtsied, but he then lifted her fingers to his lips to kiss the back of them. Her cotton glove was warm from the heat of her skin.

There was another blush tinting her skin when she turned away and disappeared into the cabin.

He smiled, a closed lipped, heart-sore smile. Now he knew why poets often classed love as tragic, it felt tragic to him, to be forced to watch her suffering and be unable to help.

When he reached his surgeon’s cabin he tapped the door then pushed it open without waiting for an answer. “What did she say?” he asked as he walked in.

Duncan looked up, he was sitting at his desk and in the middle of making a balm. “She said, she will think about tell Miss Martin.” He pushed the bottles he’d been using aside. “She is worse though. Her pulse is weaker and her breathing shallower, the disease is in her lungs. She has written a letter to her husband today and one to her relatives in England. She has asked you to send them should she die. She has also written a letter for her daughter. She said you have promised to take Miss Martin to her family and her future husband. She has given the letters to me.”

“She thinks she is near death then?”

“You need not be a doctor to know that.”

Richard stepped farther into the room and pushed the door shut behind him. Then his hand lifted and run over his face, as he took the seat Duncan’s patients usually occupied.

Duncan’s hand fell on to Richard’s shoulder. “What did you say to Miss Martin?”

“I simply told her she is doing all she can and she should not carry her fears alone.”

“So you wish to carry them for her?”

There was understanding in Duncan’s eyes when Richard looked up. He smiled. He’d told no one yet, he might as well tell someone. “I am going to offer her marriage.”

Duncan’s hand lifted from Richard’s shoulder and one eyebrow lifted too. “The noose, Richard? I never thought to see the day you’d let yourself be caught.”

Richard laughed. He’d never thought to want a wife. He did not need one. He never cared about siring sons. He’d had no value for a wife. He did want Emma. She had cast the noose about his neck. “I’m sorry to say, the day has come, Duncan.”

“Well  I am glad for you. I suppose she will accept.”

“I hope she will accept. I am not so arrogant as to be certain of it. There is this cousin she is promised to in London. I shall give her time in London and court her, then make my position known. I cannot do so now, with things as they are. But I hope she and her mother, God-willing she is still here, will forget about the cousin and come home with us. ”

When Richard stood on the poop-deck later, the decision inside him was questioned a hundred times. Was he mad? He was three-and-thirty, she was just approaching twenty. Was he being realistic or dreaming? She’d smiled at him often, shared looks of understanding, gripped his hand––did that imply his affection was returned? Or had he simply fallen for the charm of her youth, beauty and intelligence, and she felt nothing in return?

He sighed, leaning onto the rail as he looked out at the waves sweeping outward in the wake of the ship. He could make a damned fool of himself over the woman. But regardless, he knew he would not return to June. Emma Martin had captured him in her siren’s call, if he drowned, he drowned. He no longer cared.

The image of her face this morning as they’d walked about the deck, came to his mind, helpless––needing him. She was all. She was the only thing important to him now. He no longer craved fortune or success, his wealth and his status were meaningless.

I crave her.

To be continued…

To read the Marlow Intrigues series, you can start anywhere, but the actual order is listed below ~ and click like to follow my Facebook Page not to miss anything…

 The Marlow Intrigues

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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  :-) 

CompleteCollecvtion_Facebook_Advertv5

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

© 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, 67, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18 , 19, 20, 21, 22, 23

shutterstock_70716487_rendered

 

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…

To read the Marlow Intrigues series, you can start anywhere, but the actual order is listed below ~ and click like to follow my Facebook Page not to miss anything…

 The Marlow Intrigues

IMG_6159[1]

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  :-) 

CompleteCollecvtion_Facebook_Advertv5

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

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