Page 84 of Miss Dauntless
Utter tripe.
He turned some pages and let his mind wander over the entire situation with Matilda. She was married to Harry Merridew. No getting ’round that. She’d married of her own free will to ensure her child had legitimacy, and her vicar father had been present and unobjecting at the ceremony. No hint of coercion, nobody committing bigamy, nobody operating under a mental deficit such that consent was in question.
Logic, reason, and common sense all united to dash hope, not for the first time. The sonnets were no greater comfort.This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long…
Only the thought that Matilda would chide him for disrespecting great literature stopped Tremont from tossing the book onto the flames. Rather than yield to that impulse, hestretched out on the sofa and woke several hours later, cold and stiff. His mind was cobwebbed with images of Matilda on the balcony of the coaching inn, her arms full of roses.
Not until he’d shaved and dressed did Tremont realize what Shakespeare’s doomed lovers had been trying to tell him.
“Send the coach around,” he said to his first footman. “I’m off to Southwark, and time is of the essence.”
“Mama, you said we weren’t getting on the boat until this afternoon.” Tommie eyed the river with distaste beyond his years. Even Copenhagen, peeking out of Tommie’s coat beneath his chin, seemed to regard the water with contempt.
“I misspoke,” Matilda said. “We are actually taking two ships, one to Dover and then another that departs from Dover.”
Tommie’s brows knit. “I thought we were going to Ports… Ports-something and to America.”
“America is very, very far away. Sailing there can take weeks and costs a lot of money. Do you recall my telling you that England and France are only twenty miles apart?” Matilda injected the question with a brightness at odds with her mood.
“We are going to France? The French are our enemies. The Corsican Monster fought for France.”
I am not arguing international politics with a five-year-old.“We are at peace now, and the French are our friends. Let’s explore the ship, shall we?”
Tommie wrinkled his nose. “It’s not a longboat. I don’t see any dragons.”
Matilda took his hand, picked up her traveling valise, and gave their names to the steward several yards down the pierfrom the gangplank. Exhaustion dragged at her, because she’d slept barely two winks.
“We will have to imagine the dragon on the prow and a square sail on the mainmast. The inn packed us a nooning, and we’ll be at Dover before nightfall. Do you know, I’ve never set foot on a sailboat before.”
“Tremont said we’re having an adventure. I don’t want to go to France, and I don’t like this adventure very much so far.”
I perishing hate it.“Adventures can be like that. A bit tedious when you’re in the middle of them, but fondly recalled. Shall I teach you how to say something in French?”
“Teach me how to say‘I miss Tremont, and Arthur, and Tidbit, and the goats, and Charlie, and MacIvey.’”
Matilda paused at the foot of the gangplank and summoned every ounce of courage and determination she possessed. This journey was for the best. The only way to preserve dignity and honor. A remove to Paris was…
Awful.
She started up the incline, keeping a very firm grip on Tommie’s hand. “In French, you would say, ‘Mes amis me manquent.’ I miss my friends.”My friends are lacking to me, literally and more poignantly.
The ship rose and fell at its mooring, and a bitter wind whipped along the river. Tommie clambered onto the deck, where another steward greeted them and took Matilda’s valise.
“This ship stinks worse than our house did.” Tommie had spoken too clearly for the steward not to have heard him.
“The river has an odor,” Matilda said. “The sea is far more fresh. Let’s get out of this wind, shall we?”
They were shown to a tiny stateroom, with two bunks folded up against the wall and two chairs set on either side of a table no larger than a chessboard.
“We cast off in a quarter hour,” the steward said. “Should make good time to Dover, though the wind can be fickle this time of year if you’re bound for Calais. The Dover inns are cozy, though, and they are used to waiting on the weather.”
He bowed and withdrew as Tommie dragged a chair over to the porthole and stood on the seat.
“I can’t see anything, Mama. The glass is too dirty.”
“The sea air leaves brine on everything,” Matilda said, “but the ship isn’t going anywhere for another fifteen minutes. We’ll go back up on deck then. Shall we play some cards?”
“Tell me again how to say ‘I miss everybody.’”
