Heart of the Ocean (21 page)

As soon as my first son is born, I will burn this journal,
and my second son will be forgotten.

The next entries were spaced weeks apart, with less and less
mention of Helena. One entry documented the birth of his daughter, Mary.

The light was fading outside, so Jon lit a candle and
continued leafing through the journal. Pressed between two pages, he found a
letter. He opened the brittle, yellowed paper carefully. It was a letter from
his mother. The writing was faded, but familiar. It told of his birth and her
hopeful waiting for his return to Maybrook. His father had kept the letter
through the years and hadn’t been fearful enough to burn it. Why? Nevertheless,
the secret had been well-kept until his death.

Jon leaned back in the chair, gazing through the windows at
the descending darkness.

Had Shannon Worth ever known of her husband’s divided heart?

Jon entered the dining room at eight and found Mary seated
at the table with her husband and two children. They were somber and formal
when introduced.

Throughout dinner, Mr. Reine made an attempt at light
conversation, but Jon found it superficial and pointless. Jon answered
politely, but finally the man fell silent. With the formalities of their first
meal over, Mary requested Jon join them in the library.

The children were shuffled off by a maid, and Jon followed
his hosts to the library. Once seated, Mary began. “We’re ready to vacate the
home upon your request.”

Of course matters had to come to this. “I haven’t finalized
my decision, but will do so tomorrow, after meeting with the solicitors.”

“Of course,” she said. “My husband and I have overseen the
care of the estate for several years as Father’s health declined and he continually
put more and more responsibility upon us. It was our assumption that we would
be the permanent caretakers of the place. That is, until the will was read.”

Jon winced at the familiar territory. “No doubt I was left
the property out of guilt.”

Mary’s face grew pale, and her husband’s face reddened. “We
don’t envy your inheritance, Mr. Porter,” Mr. Reine said.

“Of course you don’t,” Jon said in a careful voice.  “The
old man must have left you something.”

Mr. and Mrs. Reine glanced at each other.

“Well?” Jon prompted.          

“He did leave some property which provides a modest income,”
Mary said quietly.

“But not what you feel you deserved, I assume?” Jon asked.

Mary shifted in her seat and looked at her tightly clenched
hands.

“Let’s meet tomorrow evening after dinner,” Jon said.

Mr. and Mrs. Reine stared at Jon, apprehension in their
eyes.

***

Jon rose early the next morning and walked the misty grounds.
Delicate dew clung to the leaves as the sun began to warm the earth. He kept
his pace brisk to fend off the morning chill and to prepare his mind for the
decisions ahead. Whatever bounty he bestowed on his half-sister and her husband
must be a single, final act. He didn’t want this to drag on.

When he entered the massive front doors, Mr. March was
waiting for him. “A letter has arrived for you, sir.”

Jon took the letter and saw Apryl’s familiar handwriting. He
walked into the library and settled next to the cold hearth. It would be good
to hear news from home.

Jonathan,

Although it’s only been two weeks since you left, it
seems ages ago that I waved goodbye to you at the New York harbor. Since I
don’t know when to expect your return, I thought I’d write this letter
explaining recent events. The day after you left, Thomas Beesley visited our
home. He explained what had really happened between the two of you. I don’t
blame you, Jon, for I know that you only had the best interest of the Robinson
family in mind, but I had to agree with Thomas. He laid the details out, and I
realized that you had been far too critical of him.

Thomas confessed that he has loved me since our first
encounter. In our first encounters, I thought he was teasing, but he began to tell
me things that only the most ardent suitor could notice. At first, I was
overwhelmed with a man expressing such sincere devotion and undying love, but
soon I began to believe him. I couldn’t help but compare him to you. Perhaps it
was wrong of me to compare the two of you, but I couldn’t help see what was
lacking in our relationship when I compared you to Thomas.

My parents and I had quite a row about my change of mind,
but eventually they began to see what I saw in Thomas. It breaks my heart to
have to write this to you, but I’ve accepted a proposal of marriage from him.

You might wonder how that is possible, as I am yet
engaged to you. But Thomas says you viewed our engagement as a business
opportunity, as your inheritance amounts to so little. That knowledge helped me
make my decision. I love Thomas, and now I know that what I felt for you was
but deep affection and regard.

We have set the date for the first of June, and you will,
of course, be an honored guest. I hope we can remain civil and on friendly
terms. Perhaps, Jon, one day you’ll find someone you’ll truly love.

Sincerest regards,

Apryl Maughan

Jon let the letter drop onto his lap. Disbelief shot through
him—disbelief and disgust for Thomas Beesley. Disgust for the entire Maughan
family, who had allowed themselves to be tricked by a greedy man. Thomas didn’t
love Apryl any more than . . . well . . . any more than Jon himself did. That’s
what hurt the most—the fact that Thomas had told Apryl that her engagement to
Jon was only a business arrangement, when Thomas was the one obsessed with
money.

He opened the letter again and stared at the words until
they jumbled together illegibly. Jon stood and began to pace the room. “I’ll be
damned,” he muttered under his breath, “if I let Thomas Beesley have Apryl.”

He sank onto a chair. He was thousands of miles away. What
could he do? Take the next ship back and arrive in two weeks’ time—after the
ring had been chosen and the cake ordered? Pledge his love to Apryl then? Would
she change her mind if he did?

A knock sounded at the door. “The solicitors have arrived,
sir,” Mr. March said.

“I’ll be down shortly,” Jon replied. He placed the letter in
his waistcoat pocket and straightened his collar. It was time to sign the final
documents.

Two gentlemen were waiting in the library. They both stood
when Jon entered. Extending his hand, Jon greeted them.

“I’m Mr. Rush, and this is Mr. Penchant,” said the taller
man.

Jon sat opposite them at the head of the credenza and nodded
for them to begin.

Mr. Rush opened his satchel and withdrew a stack of papers.
“There are several documents that need to be signed. At the end of today,
everything will be transferred to your name.” He proceeded to issue one
document at a time, explaining the fundamentals of each.

Jon leaned forward, feeling the sharp corner of the folded
letter in his pocket. It made him realize that his fortune would be his alone
now, with no bride to share it with. After signing his name on the first
document, he blotted the ink dry. His signature was added to the official
papers, making him a multi-millionaire in a single morning.

With the paperwork done, Jon poured his guests a drink. They
toasted to the successful transaction, and then Mr. Rush and Mr. Penchant were
on their way. When Jon bid the men goodbye, he saw Mary hovering at the top of
the stairs. He didn’t call her down yet. After the letter from Apryl, his
decision about the Reines would be changing.

***

At nine that evening, Mary and her husband were seated in
the library where Jon had stoked the fire into a roaring blaze. The place was
entirely his now, and he wanted it warm.

Jon turned to his expectant audience. “I’ve made a decision
on the house.”

Mary and her husband both watched him warily.

“For the time being, I do not plan to reside in England. And
I do not plan to sell the estate. Thus, I need to hire an estate manager,
someone who can be trusted to look after all of the details.”

Mr. Reine glanced surreptitiously at his wife.

“Perhaps the two of you wish to take on the task.” Jon looked
back and forth between them.

Mr. Reine raised his eyebrows. Clearly, he hadn’t expected
this development. “Wonderful! What would it entail?”

Jon smiled and folded his hands behind his back. “The offer
will be more generous than if I were hiring a stranger. I think even the old man
himself would be pleased.” He glanced upward. “You’ll live in the house and
care for it as your own. A regular salary will be paid and all estate expenses
covered. We’ll go over those details tomorrow. Your children’s educations will
also be paid for.”

Mary’s eyes were shining.

“I expect a quarterly report on all the happenings,
expenditures and events surrounding the estate,” Jon continued.

Mr. Reine nodded his head vigorously.

“If I decide to relocate to England, then you’ll be asked to
move. So there is some risk involved. But for now, you’ll have a comfortable
income and your childhood home in which to raise your children,” he said,
looking at Mary.

Tears formed in her eyes. “We’re so grateful for your
generosity.”

“I’m not as generous as you think. I expect a well-run
estate in return. Also, I will be selling the other property.”

“Of course,” Mr. Reine said.

Mr. and Mrs. Reine stood and came forward to thank him. Jon
received Mary’s kiss and her husband’s enthusiastic handshake.

Jon spent the next few weeks riding about the property with
Mr. Reine, meeting the surrounding neighbors, and learning about how the estate
functioned. With each day that passed, Apryl grew further from his mind. At
night he slept fitfully, only to be awakened early in the morning with
disturbing dreams about his parents and visions of things that had never
happened. He saw his mother traveling on the ship to England, arriving and finding
her love married to another woman. In a way, he was repeating his mother’s
history—although this time, he was the one who had been rejected.      

Mr. Reine offered to take him to visit some of the
surrounding towns, then finally to London, where he’d take the ship back to New
York. The night before leaving Norwich, Jon fell asleep easily, but his dreams
took a different turn.

She stood before him, dressed in a white nightgown. The
same one she’d worn the night he found her struggling through the mud. The gown
was clean now, falling in soft folds about her body. He reached out to touch
her, but she smiled and turned away, her hair cascading down her back, gently
swaying in the breeze. She started to run, looking back at him, laughing. He
ran after her as she zigzagged through the fields. Where was she heading? He
tried to call out, but he had no voice.

The lighthouse loomed ahead. She ran into it and shut the
door. He hurried to the door and tried to push it open, but it was stuck.
Kicking with all his might, he finally forced the lock. She was lying on the
floor, her nightgown spread out from her body, her hair a halo about her face.
But something was wrong—she was writhing in pain and clutching her throat—eyes
wide and staring.

He ran to her and lifted her head, cradling it.

“Eliza! Eliza!” He tried to yell her name, but no sound
came.

Sitting up in bed, Jon wiped the dampness on his forehead.
Even after the letter from Apryl, he hadn’t allowed himself to think of Eliza
again. She was somewhere in Europe, only a ghost of his past now.

He knew he couldn’t change what had happened to her or what
had happened between them, but he could try to forget. Pressing his temples
against the throbbing pain, he sighed. Why was Eliza entering his dreams now?
It was as if he had really seen her, had really chased her laughing figure, and
had really cradled her head in his arms.

Jon crossed his arms over his chest, trying to squeeze away
the aching sensation that had formed inside him. He lay back in bed, placing
his hands behind his head. The sky outside was still black, and he knew there were
many hours until dawn. He would stay awake all night, if only to not fall prey
to such dreams again.

Eliza was in his room, standing over him. He wanted to
ask why she’d come to Norwich. He couldn’t form the words. She smiled at him
and reached for him, saying nothing. He didn’t intend to let her come into his
heart, but Apryl wasn’t in the way anymore. Why was he holding back?

He felt her lips on his, and soon she was nestled next to
him. It was as if they’d been together their whole lives
.

Jon opened his eyes. He had allowed himself to fall asleep
again. Pulling the covers to his chin, he concentrated on the coolness of the
fabric. Eventually, the warmth of his dream faded, and he began to laugh at
himself.

He made a sorry, rich bachelor.

“I’m in the lighthouse.”

Jon bolted straight up. “Who’s there?” He looked around.

The room was quiet. No one was in his room. Letting out a
sigh, he settled beneath the covers again. Not only was he dreaming about
someone he’d probably never see again, he was hearing voices . . . like Eliza
did.

 “We’re leaving for London tomorrow,” Gina said, entering
the room with a bright smile. She carried the paper in her hand. “Father has a
bit of business there. I’ve always wanted to see London. We’ll be staying at
his cousin’s townhouse, right in the city.

Eliza smiled absently and browsed through the paper for any
news that might be of New York.

One item in particular stood out—an announcement for the
wedding of Mr. Jonathan Porter to his fiancée Miss Apryl Maughan. The wedding
date had been set.

The following day, Eliza stepped out of the carriage at a
London townhouse. “It’s not much, but it’s cheerful,” Mrs. Graydon announced.

Eliza and Gina started up the stairs, leaving the driver to
bring their baggage. They entered the front hallway together. The wooden floor
shone in the sunlight, and the place smelled of lemon. “It’s beautiful,” Eliza said.

“Follow me.” Gina led Eliza up a set of narrow stairs. They
entered one of the bedrooms. “It looks like this one’s ours. Two beds and a
dresser.”

Eliza crossed the room and peered out the window. Below the
bustle of the city street reminded her of New York. With the official wedding announcement
of Jonathan Porter to Apryl, Eliza realized that she’d been waiting to hear
about it. Now that she had, it brought finality to her thoughts of Jon. It was time
to put him completely and utterly in the past.

“What do you think?” Gina asked.

She turned and smiled. “Perfect. I’ll take it.”

“Like we have a choice.” Gina laughed. “Let’s go have some
tea.”

They descended the stairs together and the housekeeper,
Rochelle, brought in tea.

Mr. and Mrs. Graydon only stayed a few moments before going
off to meet friends. Gina pled a headache, so Eliza stayed behind with her. A
cozy fire glimmered in the fireplace, and Eliza was content to sit and watch it
while sipping her hot drink.

“I feel so grown-up traveling Europe,” Gina said.

“Somehow you look older.”

“I hope that is a compliment.”

Eliza laughed. “So, what are you going to do with all of
your freedom tonight?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps freedom is overrated. I’ll just do
what you do.” She let out a sigh. “Cambridge is quite close, and surely there
are plenty of eligible bachelors there. Maybe we can visit.”

Eliza took another sip of her tea. “I already know one of
those eager bachelors at Cambridge.”

“Oh?” Gina asked, leaning forward. “Do tell.”

“Nathaniel Prann.”

“The one from Maybrook who proposed to you?” Gina asked.

“One and the same.”

“You know, love isn’t everything in a marriage,” Gina
teased. “But since you’re obviously not in love with Nathaniel . . . who comes
to mind when you think of love?”

Immediately the image of Jon’s dark eyes and unruly hair
appeared in Eliza’s mind.

“Why, you’re blushing. Tell me his name. Is it another
mysterious Puritan?”

“I—It’s no one,” she stammered. “Just an ideal every woman
carries, I suppose.”

“Very well, keep your mystery man to yourself,” Gina said. “As
for me, I’m going to scour the bookcases and find the most scandalous novel to
read.”

***

The following morning, the sun was high in the sky by the
time Eliza awoke. Stretching, she realized that it had been months since she’d
slept so well, and without dreaming. She looked over at the other bed and saw that
Gina had already risen.

After wrapping her robe about her, Eliza went into the
adjoining bathroom to brush her teeth. She gazed at her image in the mirror and
fancied that she seemed older as well—perhaps twenty or twenty-one. She
certainly felt wiser. After washing her face, she went downstairs in search of
breakfast. Mr. and Mrs. Graydon were already gone, and Gina was reading in the
parlor. Apparently she’d found quite a good gothic novel.

“Oh, there you are,” Gina said. “Eggs and toast are in the
kitchen. When you’ve finished come sit with me.”

Eliza found the breakfast covered with a lid and still warm.
She ate then joined Gina, who asked, “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a dream.” Eliza stifled a yawn.

Gina closed her book. “I have some good news. The funniest
thing happened last night when my parents went to dinner.” A small smile crept
to Gina’s lips. “They told me all about it this morning over breakfast. Last
night, they were eating at the new restaurant down the street and couldn’t help
but overhear what was being said at the table next to them.” She paused.

“And . . .?” Eliza prompted.

“It was a group of college students from Cambridge,” Gina
continued. “My parents heard someone speaking like a Puritan.”

“No,” Eliza said.

“Yes. My parents were curious and got to talking to them. A
young man at the table was none other than Nathaniel Prann.’”

“You’re teasing.”

“No.” Gina’s eyes danced with amusement. “My parents asked
if he knew your family, and he pulled his chair over to their table and joined
them for dinner. My mother said she thinks his
thee’s
and
thou’s
are simply charming.”

Eliza was speechless. But there was no mistaking that it was
Nathaniel whom Gina’s parents had spoken about. Her friend continued to talk;
all Eliza heard was a faint murmur. What were the odds of this encounter? What
did Nathaniel think when learning that she was in town? Had he received her
letter?

“. . . and he said he’d stop by this afternoon.”

Eliza’s mouth fell open. “Here?”

“Don’t look so surprised. Of course he wants to see you. I’m
sure only as a friend, though,” Gina said, her voice teasing.

Eliza began to feel lightheaded. Maybe Nathaniel hadn’t
received her letter. “Did he say something about me?”

Gina laughed. “He didn’t need to. My mother said it was
written all over his face.”

By afternoon, Eliza was pacing the floor of the bedroom,
ignoring the fact Gina watched from the bed with amusement. Eliza wore a pale
green dress, and her hair was piled on top of her head. What could she possibly
say to Nathaniel?

“Let me put a few ribbons in your hair,” Gina said.

“No. I don’t want to look like I primped too much.”

“Men don’t notice those things,” Gina said.

“Then why do it?” Eliza faced her friend. “Look, there’s
something you don’t know.”

Gina clasped her hands together in eagerness. “Do tell.”

“Nathaniel has proposed to me twice.” Eliza sighed and sank
on the bed. “I’ve told him over and over that we are not meant for each other,
but he won’t give up. Meeting him will encourage him further.” She groaned and
covered her face with her hands.

“Simply be honest with him,” Gina suggested, patting Eliza’s
shoulder.

“I have been, but he won’t take no for an answer,” Eliza
said.

“You must admit,” Gina said, “this all seems so romantic.”

Eliza moaned.

“Was that the doorbell? I think he’s here.”

Eliza dropped her hands and reached for Gina’s arm. “What am
I to say?” 

“Talk about the weather; that always works for me.” She
flashed a smile.

“This is the last time I’m ever going to see him.” Eliza
left the room and descended the stairs.
Take deep breaths.

In the entryway stood Nathaniel, handing his overcoat and
hat to Rochelle.

He was just as she remembered—a little taller perhaps. His regular
clothing made him look older than the young man who had wooed her on the countryside
of Maybrook.

“Eliza,” he said simply.

She crossed the hallway, and he took her hands and kissed
her cheek.

“Thou are beautiful.”

“I see you haven’t changed your opinion of me,” she said.

Nathaniel laughed. “Never.”

Eliza offered a nervous smile and led the way into the
parlor, where they sat across from each other. “What a coincidence that you met
the Graydons last night.”

For a moment, Nathaniel didn’t say anything—so intent he was
on studying her. “’Tis a miracle.”

Eliza flushed. “Nonsense. Just a . . . coincidence.”

“The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

Her neck grew hot. “You’re very presumptuous.”

He grinned. “I’ve made some changes that I know thou wilt be
pleased with.”

“Oh?” Eliza shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She didn’t
want him making any changes with her in mind.

“I’ve decided not to return to Maybrook as a farmer.”

“I know. I received your letter while we were in France.”

Nathaniel continued, his eyes bright. “And I received your
reply.” If he had, he certainly didn’t seem upset over her answer.

“I plan to repay Reverend Clement the money for the first
year of school, then procure a scholarship to help pay for the rest.” He leaned
forward. “I’m going to start my own religious branch—a more modern form of
Puritanism.”

“Is there such a thing? I thought that Puritanism was a
reformation in itself.”

“Don’t you see, Eliza?” he said. “Thou wilt not have to
settle for being a farmer’s wife. I’ll have my own congregation, and I’ve
already started writing a book about my ideas. Once people become converted to
my true doctrines, I’ll make a living on the proceeds on my book.”

Eliza shrank back in her chair, glancing desperately at the
door, wishing that Gina would come in.

“I’ll build thee a beautiful home, and our daughters will
wear dresses with petticoats and ruffles—”

“Please stop, Nathaniel Prann.” Eliza’s throat constricted,
and her cheeks flamed. She stood abruptly. “I’m so very sorry. I spoke the
absolute truth in my last letter—I still feel the same. You must stop hoping
that it will change.”

Nathaniel’s  smile faded. “But I thought that was what thou
wanted, and if I provided, thou wouldst change thy mind.”

Eliza crossed her arms. “No, I won’t change my mind.” The
look on his face made her want to cry. She moved to the door, holding it open
for his exit.

She avoided his gaze as he walked out of the door. She shut
it firmly and leaned against it, realizing that she was shaking. She heard
Nathaniel’s quiet thanks to Rochelle as he gathered his coat and hat. Despite
her words to him, he was still the gentleman to the maid. Finally the outside
door shut.

Moments later, Gina burst into the parlor. Taking one look
at Eliza’s pale features, she asked, “What happened?”

Eliza sank into a chair. “I think he finally received the
message.”

Gina’s eyes strayed to the window. “I wouldn’t be too sure
about that. He’s coming back.”

Eliza turned her head and saw Nathaniel ascending the porch
steps. “Tell him I’m busy.” She ran out of the room and up the stairs. There she
hovered, listening to the voices coming from below.

Soon the door shut, and Gina came upstairs. She entered the
room, holding an envelope. “He gave this to me and asked me to assure you that he’s
only inviting you as a friend.”

Eliza took the envelope and opened it—inside was an
invitation to a formal ball sponsored by the university. She looked at Gina.
“Odd. He’s inviting me to a ball—he doesn’t dance.”

“Puritan restrictions?” Gina took the invitation from Eliza
and read the details.

“This man has a lot of nerve,” Eliza mused. She lay back on
her bed and stared at the ceiling. “This doesn’t sound innocent.”

“It’s harmless. After all, there will be plenty of
interesting men there. I’ll go with you.”

“Just what I need . . . you coming so that you can pick out
my future husband,” Eliza said and threw a pillow at Gina.

Gina ducked and started laughing.

***     

The next two weeks the weather was blustery. Gina and Eliza
got out when they could, but mostly they stayed inside by the fire, visiting
with whatever distant relation of the Graydons happened to stop in. Letters
kept coming from Nathaniel.

“A letter for you, Miss Eliza,” Rochelle announced one
morning.

“Thank you,” she said and glanced at the address. She placed
the envelope on the side table, upon a growing stack of unopened letters.

Gina watched with amusement. “Are you ever going to read
them?”

“Not unless I grow desperate.” Eliza stood before the fire
to warm her hands.

“What about the ball?” Gina asked.

Eliza shrugged. “I’m not going.”

“Poor Nathaniel.”

“Don’t pity him. Pity
me
,” Eliza said.

“I would never pity you, Eliza Robinson.” Gina sat on a
chair. “Men fall at your feet wherever you go, and you don’t appreciate any of
them.”

Eliza remained silent.

Rising, Gina joined Eliza at the hearth. “Are you going to
tell me his name?” she asked quietly.

“Whose?”

“The man you think about when your thoughts are far away.”

“I don’t have the slightest notion what you are talking
about,” Eliza said. “Don’t you have a scandalous novel to read?”

“That I do,” Gina said with a smile. She touched Eliza’s
arm. “Don’t worry. I’m sure he feels the same way about you.”

Eliza opened her mouth to protest, but Gina flounced out of
the room and up the stairs.

Taking a deep breath, Eliza knew she could never tell her
friend that the man who occupied her dreams was about to marry another woman.
She pulled a chair close to the fire and sat down, wrapping her arms about her.
Clouds crowded the sky outside, making the light from the window dim.

“I’m in the lighthouse.”

Eliza froze at the sound of the voice. She’d thought Helena
had left her alone for good. “What do you mean?” she asked the empty room. The
fire sputtered, and a log crackled as if to answer. Eliza shivered despite the
warmth. The journal had been found and Maeve’s murder solved. She’d even
written to Jon about her dream.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please tell me what you want me to
do.”