Page 54 of All is Fair in Love
Jonathan sighed. “I don’t deserve your hospitality or your good favor. I am sorry, Poppy. The lads got drinking and the next thing I knew, I was lying in a laneway just off Threadneedle Street.”
He glanced down at his clothes. “I should get these washed. I stink like the Fleet Prison.”
Poppy wasn’t going to offer to do his washing. Nor was she about to give him first use of her beloved copper tub. If Jonathan wanted to be clean, he could avail himself of a washcloth and a dip in the river.
If she won the new spice contract, it would mean Poppy would be staying in London for the foreseeable future. Success would bring further complications to the already unsteady relationship between her and Jonathan. She was at breaking point.
When George Basden had bid them farewell from Trincomalee Harbor, it had been with the express understanding that Poppy would make things official with Jonathan once they reached England. When he arrived in the new year, he would fully expect to be greeted by his daughter and his son-in-law.
But her father hadn’t been on board the boat; nor was he here in London to witness Jonathan’s behavior.
Taking a deep breath, Poppy steeled her nerves for the conversation that had to be had. The one she had sat up late last night and rehearsed.
“I have been thinking about us,” she said.
“I am leaving.”
Her head whipped ’round so fast, it cricked her neck. “What?”
Jonathan slowly shook his head. “I can’t stay here, Poppy. I hate London. The idea of living in this god-awful city for the rest of my days makes me feel ill.”
Poppy fiddled with the pearl and sapphire ring on her right hand all the while doing her best to dampen the spark of hope which had suddenly flared in her heart. Jonathan was leaving. She couldn’t believe her luck.
“I am not meant to live in one place, Poppy. You must know that already. I thought I could do it—follow through on the agreement I made with your father—but I can’t. I would rather die than stay in this city. I am sorry. I cannot marry you.”
Tears filled Poppy’s eyes and she let out a loud sob. “Oh, thank heavens. You have no idea how much of a relief it is to hear you say that. I’ve been trying to find the right words to tell you that marriage between us would be an utter disaster. We would both be miserable.”
For the first time since they had left Ceylon, Jonathan actually smiled. For a time, they sat staring at one another, sharing both tears and laughter. When Jonathan reached out and put an arm around her shoulder, Poppy rested her head against his chest. Her head was so light, she feared she might faint.
“You are a wonderful woman, Poppy Basden, and you deserve better than to be bound to a man who will drink himself drunk every day in order to hide his misery. The sea has always been my mistress. I can never love another.”
To some, his words may have sounded cliched, but as a sailor, Poppy understood his sentiment only too well. Some men were not destined to remain on land. They found no joy in feeling solid ground underfoot. Jonathan was one of those men.
A few days in port was enough for him. He could stand it as long as he knew a ship was leaving soon and that he would be on board when it sailed. She could just imagine how he must have felt when the Empress Catherine drew up to the dock for the last time.
Poppy sat up, wiping away her tears. “When do you leave?”
Jonathan nodded. She knew he could understand the truth behind Poppy’s question. Her words weren’t meant to be cruel; she simply wanted confirmation.
“When I was at the pub last night, I signed up for a ship which is sailing for Cape Town later today. I came back this morning in order to collect my things from the Empress Catherine and to say goodbye to you.”
“Where will you go after Africa?” she asked.
Cape Town was a good three months away by ship. Longer if they stopped on ports along the west coast of Africa.
“The contract is for a round trip. So, I will be back here in London by June. After that, who knows? I might even sign up to a ship sailing west to the Americas. I’ve never seen the Caribbean,” he replied.
“It’s a beautiful place. Hot, but not like the subcontinent. The heat in the West Indies is a dry one, so they don’t get the blessed monsoon rains. They do, however, get huge storms. Hurricanes. I pray you never get caught up in one.” Poppy had lived through one during a brief stopover in Port Royal, Jamaica, when she was young. The winds and howling rain had been terrifying. George Basden had been on a run to Belize at the time and Poppy had been left in the care of a madam in a local tavern. She had made her father swear to never leave her alone in such a place ever again.
And now I am to be alone once more.
She was older now. Capable of taking care of herself. The warehouse had locks and she had a pistol.
Jonathan got to his feet. “George will of course be disappointed; I have only fulfilled half the bargain we struck. But I am hoping that you and I can at least part as friends. Your father is not a man I wish to make my enemy.”
Poppy caught the underlying message in his words. Jonathan had seen the cargo of cinnamon to London, and while he wasn’t going to marry her, he would of course expect to receive payment for having completed some of the contract.
If it meant he went quietly, it would be worth every penny.
