CHAPTER 6 - A Tragic Farewell

You wake up from a restless sleep and dread having to get up. It has been two weeks since Jack told you he was leaving for the Caribbean, and the horrific day has finally arrived. You had hoped that the sun would be kind to you and not rise so this morning would never come, but it must not have heard your plea, because you can see its bright rays shining through your windows. “At least someone is bloody happy today,” you grumble to yourself as you glare at the sunrise. Quickly, you put on your dress – blue to match your mood – and slip on your favorite boots. You sit down at your vanity and try to make yourself look decent. Once you are satisfied that you don’t look too bad, you pick up a folded piece of paper and slide it into your pocket. It’s your present for Jack: the drawing of yourself. You had decided to give it to him today, before he… left.

You try your hardest not to start crying, reasoning with yourself that he hadn’t even left yet. You also didn’t want him to remember you with swollen eyes and a scrunched up face. After you gain a hold of yourself, you get up and leave your room, making sure you still have the drawing. You walk down the staircase and go to your father’s study. He is going to the docks to meet one of his ships that is arriving this morning, and he said he would take you up there with him to say goodbye to Jack. He knows you two have a strong friendship and that you would want to see him off.

The door is already open, and you walk in. Your father looks up from his work and says, “You’re up. And I see you’re all ready to leave.” You just nod at him, not in the mood to talk that much. “Have you had anything to eat?” he asks as he gets up and walks over to you. You shake your head. “Well, the carriage shall be here in a couple of minutes, so why don’t we stop by the kitchen for something to eat?” Although you don’t feel hungry, you nod anyway, and the two of you walk towards the kitchen.

Once you open the door, you can smell meat already being cooked for the meal later. Mrs. Spiller is bustling about, getting ready to go down to the market. She turns around and smiles at you and your father. “Good morning Mr. Taylor and Miss Ella. You two are up early. Can I get you anything?”

“Some fruit for now will be fine,” your father answers for both of you, and you’re grateful since you’re not in the mood to chat. “We’re in a hurry, because a carriage will be here for us soon.”

Mrs. Spiller quickly reaches in a cupboard and brings out a couple of apples and bananas. You grab a red apple and take a small bite out of it. You’re not that hungry, but refusing the food would be rude, and your father wants you to eat something or else he wouldn’t have suggested it. Your father copies you and takes an apple as well. After your father says a short farewell to your cook, the two of you walk back to the front door, both of you eating your apples quietly. A butler comes up to your father and tells him the carriage has arrived. You get a sinking feeling in your stomach, and realize that the time has finally come to say goodbye. You contemplate whether you should stay or go, but decide that you can’t turn back now. Besides, you want to see Jack one last time before he leaves.

The carriage ride down to the docks doesn’t take that long, but it seems like an eternity to you. You want it to go faster so you won’t miss him leaving, and yet you want it to be as slow as possible, as if you are being led to your execution. Which it is in a way, because it feels like they’re tearing out your heart as well as taking Jack away.

“We’re here,” your father announces as the carriage rolls to a stop. You can smell and hear the ocean that you know is right in front of you. You used to love the ocean when you were younger, and now it was taking away your love. The footman opens the door for you, and you step out. Your father soon follows, and the two of you make your way over to the docks. “Now, the ship you want is over there,” your father says, pointing out a ship farther down the dock. “You know which ones mine are; you can find me there.” He kisses you on the head and walks away.

You make your way over to Jack’s ship, hoping that you’ll be able to find him once you get there. You check your pocket once again, and are relieved when you find Jack’s present is still in there. You finally make it over to the anchored ship your father pointed out to you, and spot Jack immediately. He is talking with his father a little ways away, but you can’t hear what is being said. They hug, and his father walks away from Jack and towards you. He doesn’t seem to notice you, but Jack immediately spots you and gives you a smile. Your heart lurches, and already you can feel the tears threatening to erupt. You walk over to him and try to think of something to say, but nothing comes. Jack, however, doesn’t seem to care, and he envelops you in a hug. You feel a tear roll down your cheek, but try to hold the other ones in. You close your eyes and rest your head on his chest. The beating of his heart calms you down as you listen to its steady rhythm.

“I’m so glad you made it,” Jack says, still keeping his arms around you. “I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t seen you before I left.”

“Stayed and waited for me?” you supply, your voice slightly muffled. He hears your answer, however, and chuckles to himself. You feel his chest vibrate as he does, and for some reason it makes you smile despite your sadness. Jack always found a way to make you smile, intentional or not.

“You know I would love to stay here with you, but I have to do this,” Jack replies, and you can tell he is serious. He puts his hand under your chin and lifts your face up so you look at him. “I know this is hard for you. It’s hard for me too. But you just have to think about how much better it will be if I go.” He leans down and places a light kiss on your lips, and in just that small gesture, you get the feeling that everything will be okay. You and Jack love each other, and he was right. Not seeing each other for five years or however long he will be gone is a small price to pay in comparison to not being together for the rest of your lives.

“I understand,” you reply, and give him another quick kiss. “So when do you get your uniform?” you ask, noticing that he’s wearing a regular shirt and breeches.

“I don’t get it until I reach the fort. I think it’ll look rather dashing on me, don’t you?” You can detect the smugness in his voice, and can’t help but laugh.

“Of course. Just promise me that while you’re in the Caribbean having all sorts of adventures, you won’t forget about me here in England.”

“Ella, I could never forget you, even if I tried,” he says, and you wonder what the meaning of that comment was supposed to be.

“Well, just to make sure,” you say, purposefully avoiding discussing his previous statement, “I have a gift for you.” You reach into your pocket and hand him the folded piece of paper. “Just a little something to remember me by.”

He looks at you quizzically before unfolding the paper. When he opens it up, he laughs when he sees that it’s your self-portrait. “Ella, this is brilliant!” he cries. “It looks exactly like you.” He gives you another kiss, but this one is longer than the previous two. Your heart starts fluttering madly, and when you two break apart, you can’t help but blush. Jack always made you feel special, and you couldn’t help but wonder how he could turn you in to a lovesick girl with just a touch. “I’ll always keep this safe,” he says, carefully folding the paper back up and putting it in his pocket.

“’Ey Miller!” a man calls, and Jack turns around to look at him. “We’ll be setting off in a couple of minutes. Hurry it up.”

Jack responds to him, but you’re not paying attention. In the past couple of minutes, you had forgotten the reason that you were here, and that was to wish Jack goodbye on his long voyage to the Caribbean. You look up and see that he’s looking down on you, the smile gone from his face as he too is reminded of the reason you both are there.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” you sob as you fling your arms around his neck and embrace him tightly, hoping that if you hold on to him long enough he won’t go.

“I’m going to miss you too.” His mouth is right near to your ear, and you can feel his warm breath on your cheek. “And I promise I won’t forget you. I’ll come back for you no matter what.” You feel a tear caress your face, but you don’t know if it came from Jack or you.

“Miller! Time’s a wastin’!” the man yells from behind Jack.

“I’m coming!” he replies impatiently. He looks back down at you and gives you one more kiss, but this one is filled with more love, compassion, and sadness than you have ever experienced. You’re glad you’re holding on to him, because all your energy and feeling was sucked from you and placed in that kiss. The emotion was so strong that you couldn’t hold your tears in any longer, and they flowed slowly out of the corners of your closed eyes. And just when you felt you were going to die from the intensity, Jack slowly pulls away. You look in to his deep brown eyes and see tears threatening to come out, but Jack is trying hard to keep them in and be strong. His eyes also tell you that he will miss you as much as you will miss him, and that he will keep his promise and come back. You both are sure of it.

“I love you,” Jack whispers, as if everything would shatter in to pieces if he spoke any louder. He lifts his hand and gently wipes the tears off your cheek.

You grab his hand and try to work your vocal chords in to saying what your heart was feeling at the moment. You finally reply, “I love you too,” softly. He brings you in to another hug and whispers, “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” you repeat, your tears coming out more freely. The two of you pull apart, but he reaches for your hand and brings it up to his lips, kissing it lightly. He starts to walk away towards his ship, but the two of you don’t let go your hands until the distance is too far apart. You stand there silently crying as he walks on board the ship and looks back at you. You give him a sad smile and wave. He returns the gesture before being summoned to prepare for the ship to embark. The sails are unfurled and the anchor brought up. Wind catches in the sails, and the boat groans as it starts to move forward. Jack looks back at you one last time before putting his full attention on the tasks being shouted at him.

By now you’re bawling, your body trembling with each breath you take. You don’t care who sees you in this state, for the only thing that exists to you is that fleeting ship. You stand there watching it go out to sea until you can barely make out its form. By then your tears have been all used up, but you can still feel the empty hole where your heart used to be. You knew you wouldn’t have it back until you saw Jack again. “Goodbye,” you speak softly again before turning around and making your way back to your father. The moment you had been dreading, the departure of Jack Miller, was over.

* * * *

You sigh as you stand on a balcony overlooking a picturesque view of the manor’s sloping lawn, the bustling town, and the restless ocean below. However, you are looking upon this scene at night, and the only thing you can see is dancing light through the windows of the town below and the moon and stars in the cloudless sky. A breeze drifts up from the ocean and causes your silk skirt to rustle and a slight shiver to chase itself down your spine. You glance once more over the landscape before walking back into the ballroom. A friend of your father’s is having a grand party, and all of the town’s upper class had come to make an appearance. Servers walk around the crowded room carrying glasses of wine while men twirl women around in time to music. The party is amazing, and you wish you could be having a wonderful time like everyone else, but you hadn’t been able to stop worrying for the past eight months.

That’s how long it has been since Jack left you to go to the Caribbean. You knew that he never learned how to write, so there was no way for him to contact you and tell you he was all right. But just because you haven’t heard if he was okay doesn’t mean he wasn’t. You can picture him right now, sailing on a ship with the wind blowing through his hair and smile on his face. It would be exactly like the two of you dreamed it would be when you were little and had an imaginary ship of your own. You smile fondly at the memory, but it just reminds you even more of the fact that Jack is not here with you.

A young man about your age with sandy hair suddenly appears in front of you, and you slightly jump, wondering how he had snuck up on you like that. “Care to dance with me, Miss Taylor?” he asks you while offering his arm.

“Why, I’d love to,” you reply, trying not to gag at the formality of it all. Since you recently turned sixteen, you were deemed mature enough to be forced to these types of events. And while you did enjoy the dressing up and looking beautiful part, it was the actual party that you hated. All the adults talked about boring matters while you sat there or danced with whoever asked. You were just thankful for all those lessons you had to endure for years, because if you hadn’t practiced the art of pretending to be interested while actually being bored silly, you would have committed suicide a long time ago.

You rest your hand in his, and he leads you on to the dance floor as a new number starts up. You are a pretty good dancer, Miss Caroline had made sure of that, but sadly your partner was on the opposite end of the scale. He seems to want to crush your feet with his own, but you successfully maneuver them out of harms way without making yourself look like an incompetent dancer. You also notice that he is off tempo, and it takes all your will power to stop yourself from leading. When the song finally ends, you quickly thank him for the dance before rushing away. You didn’t want him to ask for another.

After you meander through the crowd a bit, you finally find a chair near the back of the room to sit in. Not only is it far away from the dancing, but it is also close to the exit, so if you notice anybody coming your way you can quickly make an escape. So you sit back and pass the time by listening to the music while admiring, and sometimes laughing at, the various dresses the women have on.

About fifteen minutes after you had found your hiding spot, a maid comes in and starts looking around the room. She spots whom she’s looking for and walks over to two men: one is your host for the evening, Mr. Roderick, and the other is your father. Mr. Roderick is a very nice, portly man with a long moustache. He does a lot of trading down in the Caribbean, and he owns the boat that Jack went on to start his new career. The maid says something to him, and he quickly excuses himself and exits the room. Your curiosity is instantly sparked. What could be so important that he leaves his own party?

After a couple of minutes he comes back looking a lot less cheerful than he did before. He walks back over to your father and exchanges some words with him. Your father also looks grim at the news, which only fuels your interest. After some more talking, Mr. Roderick leaves, allowing you to swoop down on your father for some information. You reach him quickly and give him a hug. “Hello Father. Why do you look so sad?” you ask, not bringing up that you were spying on him.

“Oh it’s just something that Richard told me,” he tells you vaguely. Well, that doesn’t do you much good, so you decide to prod a little more.

“What’s wrong? I hope it’s nothing too serious.”

Your father looks away from you and at some distant point before saying, “He just found out that one of his ships was destroyed by pirates. They found the remains, but sadly only one of the men on board survived. The rest are missing.”

“Oh, that’s horrible.” And you truly feel sad for him. He is a good friend of your father’s, and you know how hard a blow it is to lose a ship. Your dad’s gaze turns back to you, and they show a sadness far deeper than one would be expected of showing. “Father, what else is there?” you ask, worried.

“Oh Ella, I’m so sorry. I wanted to wait until we got home to tell you.” He pauses, and you suddenly wish you hadn’t been so curious and stayed over in your seat. “The ship that was destroyed was the one Jack was on. He’s one of the men presumed dead.”

The room suddenly gets cold, and your stomach seems to have fallen unpleasantly. Your father brings you in to a hug and keeps murmuring, “I’m sorry,” into your ear. However, you don’t notice it, and only hear your increased breathing and the word “dead” over and over. The room seems to be spinning around you, and you quickly get out of your father’s grasp and shakily make your way over to the balcony that you were at before, throwing up over the edge.

Once you finish being sick, you lean against the rail of the balcony and try to somewhat gain your composure. But now that the initial shock has worn off, you can feel your eyes start to sting. Thankfully, your father walks up to you and says, “The carriage is waiting out front for us. It would be best if you were at home.” He leads you off the balcony and out of the ballroom without you really aware of what is going on. You just know that the tears are about to come. The two of you go into the carriage and it promptly heads for home. You stare blankly out the window the whole ride, only a couple tears breaking free and sliding down your cheeks.

When you finally reach home, you run up the stairs and into your room, slamming the door behind you. You collapse on to your bed and finally begin to cry. Your body is shaking uncontrollably from the sobbing and the sharp intakes of breath. You cry out in anguish, wondering why this happened Jack, to the man that you loved. Why was he taken from you, when you had just started to believe that everything would be okay? You continue to cry until you have no more tears or energy left. Feeling extremely exhausted, you fall into a sleep plagued by images of your beloved.

* * * *

The next morning you wake up early feeling very worn out. You get up and quickly put on a plain black dress and your boots, not caring that your hair was a mess and your eyes were still red and swollen from crying. You walk downstairs without hearing anyone; your brothers and father are most likely still sleeping. Carefully you open the front door and sneak out of the house. You begin to walk, but to where you don’t know.

Your destination ends up being a small beach. You make your way to the water’s edge and just stare at the ocean before you. The waves come up to the shore and get your boots wet, but you don’t move. Suddenly you fall down on to your knees, embedding them into the wet sand. You lift your fists and begin to slam them in to the water, trying to hurt it as it had hurt you. “Why did you have to take him?” you yell out to the ocean, the tears from last night coming out again. “Why?” You beat the water harder, splashing you all over. By the time you stop you’re wet from head to toe. This doesn’t bother you, and you continue to sit in the sand. Your father’s words keep playing in your head. “They found the remains, but sadly only one of the men on board survived. The rest are missing.”

You gasp suddenly as a crazy idea enters your mind. “The rest are missing,” you whisper to yourself. Of course! Just because Jack is missing doesn’t mean that he’s dead. They didn’t find his body, so that could mean that he survived the attack. With this little bit of hope, you get up and try to wipe the sand off your dress. You give up and begin the journey back home. The chances are very small that he did survive, but you don’t think about that. The only thought on your mind is that Jack could still be alive and would come back for you. And you truly believe it’s possible.

* * * * *

A/N: I’m so sorry that it’s taken me forever to update, but I promise to update more frequently. This story is going at the top of my priority list. And the childhood parts are finally over, so in the next chapter you’ll be older. Expect that update in two weeks at the most. Till then!

* * * * *

CHAPTER 7 - Penelope’s Suitors

You stand outside the door of your father’s study, tapping the toe of your shoe impatiently. He had asked to see you, so why is he making you wait? And what does he want to talk to you about? You guess it has to do with yesterday’s supper. You had gone with your father, brothers, and George’s wife to Adam Lovell’s house, a successful man in his mid-thirties who your brother George knew well. He had seen you at your brother’s house during one of your trips there and had taken a liking to you. So, the dinner arrangements were made. Your father most likely wants to discuss him with you.

You don’t know why your father is bothering. Almost every time he has tried to set you up with a man, it has gone poorly. You always find some fault in each one of them; they are either too old, don’t have a high enough social status, would become a wife abuser, and many other reasons your mind could make up. But when it came down to it, there was only one reason for your denial: they weren’t Jack. Your stubborn mind had decided eleven years ago that you would be Mrs. Jack Miller, and nothing has changed that, not even the fact that he is still missing. But you know – or hope – that he is out there somewhere, making his way to you.

Finally, you hear your father’s voice from inside, allowing you to enter. You open the door and see him sitting at his desk, which is covered with the usual papers and logbooks for his business. After closing the door, you walk over to him and kiss his cheek. “Good morning, Father,” you say in greeting, and sit down sideways in the seat across from his, your legs thrown over one armrest.

“Good morning to you too, Ella,” he replies. “And could you please sit in the seat the correct way?”

You grumble and twist your body around so your back is straight up against the chair and your legs in front of you. The movement completely wrinkles your pale blue dress, but you don’t feel like smoothing it out. “Better?”

“Yes, much.” He leans slightly forward and rests his elbows on the desktop. “I trust you had a good time at Mr. Lovell’s house last night?”

Aha, so you are right. This meeting is about another possible suitor. “Well, as grand of a time as one can have while some strange man is breathing down one’s neck the whole time. He asked me if the fish was to my liking so many times that I felt like regurgitating it back on to my plate. And I caught him a couple of times having a good look at what was certainly not my face. So, it turned out to be quite an enjoyable night.” You hoped your father caught the sarcasm in your voice.

“Come now, you’re overreacting. He was acting just like a proper gentleman should.”

You can’t resist rolling your eyes, a habit that your father is not too fond of.

“If that’s how a proper gentleman should act, then I could find many of them by just stopping at the local bar. Maybe I should have supper with them.”

“Ella,” your father says in a harsh tone, “I see that you’re not too fond of Mr. Lovell, but please refrain from talking like that. It’s not very ladylike or polite.”

You inwardly sigh and change the tone of your voice. “I’m sorry Father. I just didn’t like him, that’s all.”

“Well why not?” He leans back in his chair and rubs his temples. “Don’t tell me; there’s something wrong with this one too.”

“Of course there is!” You feign surprise, as if it was completely obvious. “Did you not see the state of his spaniels? They were so skinny that I could see their individual rib bones! And you know what they say: ‘Look how a man treats his dogs to see how he would treat his wife.’”

“Really? I’ve never heard that expression before.”

Of course he hadn’t. You had just made it up on the spot. “Father, everyone says it.”

Luckily, your father doesn’t see through this lie, and just says, “I see.” Now that he thinks about it, Adam’s dogs did seem a little too thin. Not to the extent that you described them, of course, but it was still notable. He sighs heavily and runs his hands over his face. “Ella, you know I love you, and I only want what’s best for you. I would never ask you to marry anyone you didn’t like, but I just want to see you taken care of.”

You look in to your father’s eyes, and are surprised to see a deep emotion in them. Is it weariness? Sadness? Or maybe failure? You hope that your father didn’t think he had failed you. He raised you the best a man without a wife could, and you wouldn’t change it for anything. You feel a twinge of guilt as you look at your father. His hair now has some gray mixed in with the brown, but you always thought it made him look more dignified and wise. But right now, you finally see that he isn’t as young as he used to be, and he just wants to see you happy and provided for.

“I know Father, and I really appreciate it. I’ll try to be more open minded from now on.” And you make a silent vow to yourself you will be. You want your father to be happy.

“That’s my girl,” he says with a smile on his face. You get up and give him a quick kiss on the cheek and leave. Once you close the door, you can’t help but notice that you still feel guilty, but you don’t know why. Is it because you don’t know if you will keep your promise, or because you feel like you’re betraying someone else?

It’s not like you haven’t been open-minded. Five years ago, you were engaged to a very handsome and successful man named Philip Young. He was absolutely dreamy with his dirty blonde hair, honey eyes, and tall build. He had a growing overseas trading business that was flourishing. And with all that money, he would dote on you and take you on surprise trips, all in the name of love. You thought you were in love with him, and that the two of you would be together for the rest of your lives.

Your dream future was shattered, however, when he was arrested for illegal smuggling and jailed two months before your wedding. The interesting thing was, when you found out he was a traitor and you two wouldn’t have your perfect life, you weren’t heartbroken. Of course you were sad and even cried, but it wasn’t anything compared to when Jack left you, and then when he went missing. This puzzled you, and you tried to figure out why the loss of Jack caused more grief than the loss of Philip, when you loved them both. During your musings, you started going through your jewelry box and found what you were looking for: a folded up piece of paper at the bottom. When you opened it up, your eyes stared down at the picture of Jack, which you hadn’t looked at since you met Philip, about two years. At the sight of it, you felt a pain inside your chest, like an iron hand clenching your very soul. In that instant, you realized that you had given your heart to Jack years ago, and he had taken it to the Caribbean. You could never love anyone unless your heart was returned to you first, but looking back on the fond memories, you realized you didn’t want it back.

It was after realizing that you still loved Jack that you started to make excuses as to why you couldn’t marry some of the men that courted you. At first it was all right, since your fiancé had just been arrested and everyone thought you were still mourning over the incident. But it was after a year that all the men thought you were ready to move on and tried to sweep you off your feet. You were very popular with the gentlemen; you came from a wealthy and respected family and had very striking features, but you expressed your lack of interest to every one of them. The ladies who had nothing to do but gossip started calling you “Katherine the Curst” behind your back at the many parties. Your brother found it highly amusing and started calling you by that name too. And while you loved the play The Taming of the Shrew, you couldn’t help but curse William Shakespeare at these times.

And so here you are, standing in front of your father’s study, still in love after eleven years of separation, even though you don’t know if Jack’s still alive. There’s something in you that continues to believe he will still come back for you, but it seems more like a fantasy than reality. The only thing you’re sure of is that you’ll never love anyone else, since you aren’t in possession of your heart and can’t give it to anyone. But this won’t stop you from being married, and you have a feeling that this day is approaching quickly.

* * * *

You’re lying down on your stomach in bed reading when your brother Peter barges into your room. He walks over to you and leans against one of your bedposts. “Hey Ella,” he greets you.

“Can you leave? I’m trying to read,” you grumble without looking up.

He continues on like he didn’t hear you. “Do you remember my friend Henry Robinson?”

You try to think. “I believe so. Is he the bloke who moved to the Caribbean?” The conversation is taking your concentration away from your book, and after reading the same sentence three times, you give up and close the book. Now your attention is fully on Peter.

“Yes. He owns a very successful sugar plantation on Jamaica.”

You give your brother a blank look. “Well, that’s great for him, but is that all you wanted to say? I really do want to continue my reading.”

“Well,” he says while studying his fingernails, “he’s back in England for a while. I met him down in town and invited him over for dinner.”

“Okay,” you reply, slightly confused and irritated. What did this have to do with you? It took so much effort to get any information out of your brother.

“We caught up a bit. You know, business and the family. He seemed very interested in you.”

You start to understand where this is leading. “Peter,” you say in a warning tone, “are you trying to set me and Henry up?”

“Why would you think that?” he asks, looking a little too innocent. “I mean, it’s not like the thought hasn’t crossed my mind, but intentionally playing matchmaker for you two? That’s absurd.” A smile crossed his face. “Although, I think you should give him a try. He’s probably the only man who doesn’t know about your status as town shrew.”

You throw a pillow at your brother’s head, but he expertly dodges it. “Will you stop calling me that? I am not froward. I’m just opinionated.”

“As you say, Katherine the Curst.” He gives you a little bow and walks toward the door. “And one more thing,” he calls over his shoulder. “He’s a good man. Give him a chance.”

“Yeah, I’ll give him a chance,” you mutter to yourself. You love your brother, but sometimes he couldn’t keep his big head out of where it doesn’t belong. Marrying the man your brother chose for you would be so embarrassing. Besides, you know what his friends are like, and if Henry is like the others, you don’t want anything to do with him. “That will never happen.”

You pick your book back up and start to read again, but a thought occurs to you. A couple of days ago, you had promised your father that you would be nicer towards your suitors, and here you are rejecting a man you haven’t even met yet. You didn’t even know if he had any romantic intentions. You take a deep breath through your nose and exhale out your mouth. No, you said you would try harder, and you are not going to break your word. You set your book down once more and call for your maid. Henry should be arriving soon, and you want to make a good first impression.

* * * *

You are sitting in the parlor wearing a beautiful red dress when Henry Robinson arrives. When the butler brings him in to the room, your brother immediately gets up and shakes his hand. You quickly look him up and down as your father and you walk over to greet him. He’s over a head taller than you, and you’re wearing high heels. His hair is light brown and makes his dark blue eyes stand out. His nose is a little big, but it suits him, while it would seem like a flaw on anyone else. After sharing a few words with your father, he turns to you and gives you a large smile. “Good evening, Miss Taylor,” he greets you.

You offer him your hand, and he grazes the top of it with his lips, his eyes never leaving yours. “Now Mr. Robinson, I insist you call me Katherine. A friend of my brother is a friend of mine.” You give him what you hope is a dazzling yet shy smile, which is not very easy. However, it seems to work, for he doesn’t look repulsed.

“Well then, Katherine, you must call me Henry, since we are among friends.” He doesn’t let go of your hand, but instead leads you to the chair you had just been sitting at, and then sits in the one next to it. Your father and brother follow suit, and soon everyone begins chatting. Henry starts talking about his home in the Caribbean, and you can hardly imagine that such a place exists. The pure white sand beaches, crystal clear water, and exotic plants he describes all seem too wonderful to be real. He insists that all of you should visit for a couple of months, and you find yourself seriously considering it. It sounds delightful.

A maid comes in and announces that supper is ready. Henry offers you his arm and escorts you to the dining room. He pulls out the chair for you and makes sure you’re situated before sitting down himself. You find yourself liking this special attention. If he were anyone else, you’d think this show of chivalry was an act and hate him for it, but Henry seems like a genuine gentleman.

Halfway through the main course, you realize that you are going to marry Henry. It’s not a question of if you wanting to; you just know. You can tell from the look in your father’s eyes and the tone of his voice that he already likes Henry. He’s handsome, nice, polite, and successful. He even talks you into the conversation and seems interested in what you have to say. It looks like your father’s wish to see you happily settled down will be occurring faster than you thought.

After everyone finished eating and Henry personally thanked the chef for an excellent meal, you all make your way to the foyer to see Henry off. He shakes hands with the two men and says to your father, “Thank you for having me over, Mr. Taylor. It was delicious.”

“Well thank you for coming over,” your father replies. “It was most enjoyable. You are more than welcome to come back again.”

He smiles, but instead of looking at your father, you see him looking at you. “I’d really like that.” He takes your hand and kisses the top of it. “Goodbye, Katherine.”

“Goodbye, Henry. I hope to see you again soon.”

He responds with a smile that tells you that you definitely will be seeing more of each other.

* * * *

The next morning, you find yourself once again in front of your father’s study, waiting for him to grant you entrance. You already know what he will be talking about; you two have had many of these conversations before. But this time, you would be answering differently.

You hear him call your name, and you quickly enter the room. He is sitting at his desk as usual, with his many ship logs open around him. You sit down in front of him like you have done numerous times. “Good morning, Father.”

“Good morning, Ella.” He leans back in his large leather chair and places his arms on the armrest. “So, did you have a nice time last night?”

This question is usually answered with sarcastic remarks, or sometimes a firm “no”, but today is different. “Yes, I did.”

Your father looks somewhat surprised by this. “Really? And what do you think of Mr. Robinson?”

“I think he is a very nice gentleman,” you reply truthfully. “A lot nicer than some of the other men I’ve had supper with,” you add.

“Well, I’m very pleased to hear this. But you know,” your father says, turning serious, “I want you to be happy. You shouldn’t pretend to like him just because of our conversation the other day. What matters is what you want.”

Well, you know that you can’t truly have who you want, but making your father happy is just as important to you. Besides, you know that Henry is a good man and will treat you well. “It is what I want,” you assure him, and even add in a small smile. He smiles back and reaches across the table to squeeze your hand comfortingly.

“I’ll have to ask him to come back, then.” He lets go of your hand and sits back in his chair again. You know that the conversation is over, and you quickly give up and kiss him goodbye on the cheek. As you’re leaving the study, you tell yourself that you’re doing the right thing, but you can’t shake this feeling of guilt. But why should you feel bad? Jack isn’t there, and your life is still happening. You can’t be expected to sit around and wait forever.

* * * * *

A/N: Okay, I know it’s been a month, and I’m really sorry about that, but I have had no time to write because of school, driver’s ed, and many other things that you probably don’t want to read about. I’m just really sorry and will try harder to make time for this story.

TBC...

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