19. The Doldrums
The days rolled on.
The Try Your Luck did not reappear - and I made no further progress in deciding how to proceed regarding my wedding.
I also did not leave my rooms.
“Lady Isabelle?” Josefa-Maria’s voice was gentle. “I have brought food. Do you have any appetite?” I shook my head, and she set the tray down on my bedside table. “The lieutenant commander is downstairs. Will you see him?”
“I have not dressed,” I replied, turning the page of my book. I hadn’t gotten out of bed in days, and I had no intention of doing so today.
Even the visitors I missed terribly.
“Nichte and Lili and hoping you will taste their latest work,” Josefa-Maria tried again.
I nodded in acknowledgement; I knew they were hard at work on the recipes I’d given them. Recipes meant to be served at our reception.
“Give this to the lieutenant commander, please.” I handed over the latest note I’d written and the young maid took it. Her respectful disappointment over my continued refusal to see Ian was palpable. She was also concerned about my disinclination to cook, dress, eat, or even rise from bed.
Though people were familiar with the symptoms, Depression wasn’t yet a word, and this world was far off from any sort of mental health awareness.
Either way, I needed time to think, away from the expectations and pressures of everyone around me. Ian had apologized again and again for his exuberant reaction to Anne’s escape and departure, stating that he should have realized that my relationship with my sister was a sensitive and complicated topic. As though that was the reason for my distance. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how complicated it truly was. The loss of our nightly custom weighed upon him heavily, despite my written assurances that my feelings for him had not changed.
I was sincere about those words. But Ian was increasingly frantic over my withdrawal, despite the unending messages we exchanged, and I simply couldn’t handle the in person weight of his feelings on top of everything else.
At least now he understood the depth of my objection regarding the location of the wedding. It had taken brutal wording: having our wedding at Andrews’ estate would be like having dinner in a brothel while there are children being violated upstairs. Ian had been horrified, of course, but I’d gotten my point across. He hadn’t brought up the topic again.
I had to admit that I’d gotten caught up in life here. Home had been in the back of my mind as a steadfast eventuality, but not one I had wanted to spend much time thinking about.
After all, I loved Ian, and Ian lived here. I was not so naive as to think he could simply bid farewell to the world he knew and ease into life in ‘California’.
Of course, it was beginning to look as though the seventeenth century was going to a permanent home for both of us anyway. So that was stressing me the fuck out. Combined with my revulsion over Andrews’ estate, I really hadn’t managed to pull myself together enough to do things.
Anne was gone, and I was scheduled to get married on a plantation. I groaned and pulled the pillow back over my head.
Josefa-Maria had included Helene’s latest missive on my breakfast tray. I idly munched on some strawberries while staring at her letter, hoping to absorb its contents via osmosis.
Helene’s previous messages had expressed concern over my distress, and I could hardly imagine anything more inappropriate. She was enslaved, for fucks sake, and she was worrying about how I was handling the news of her reality?
Of course, the woman was also still emphasizing the merits of The Hundred Acre Wood like a seventeenth century wedding planner. Yes, I knew all about the size of the ballroom and kitchen facilities and the number of horses. Ian, and Lady Catherine, and Lady Wallington, and Lady Alice and others had pointed out all of these and other virtues repeatedly. So repeatedly, in fact, that I had stopped responding.
None of those things mattered to me; I would have been perfectly happy to marry Ian on the beach or in a small chapel or even at the docks. But of course there were Expectations Of How Things Were Done, a social pressure I was well accustomed to. New, and old.
Deciding I’d put it off as long as I could, I finally opened Helene’s letter.
Lady Isabelle,
After communicating with your intended, I believe I can allay some of your fears. I will make my way to your establishment for afternoon tea. I do not lightly leave my land and pray you will admit me.
Hoping this letter reaches you before myself.
Yours,
Helene
P.S- Yvonne and Andrews will be traveling with me to town but shall not be permitted entry to our discussions.
Crap. I was going to have to get dressed.
Josefa-Maria was beside herself when I informed her that I would be accepting a visitor, bringing bath water so quickly I was certain it had been stolen from a waiting guest. Or maybe the staff had been that anxious about my state.
Judging from the speed at which Josefa-Maria ripped the linens from my bed to change them, it could have been either. She then moved to buzzing around in the background, chattering excitedly over my clothing options while I ‘bathed’ behind my screen. I mean, I was bathing, but I was mostly smoking a joint and staring off into space.
“My lady?”
Right. She was waiting for an answer. “I don’t have the energy for much. One of the dressing gowns. You pick?”
I was getting ready when my guest arrived, and I wasn’t sure which of the two facts made Anika happier. “I will need some time still. Please let her know, and give her some refreshments.”
I prissed about over my hair for longer than I should have, but Helene was one of the few people I socialized with whose opinions about my hair would actually matter. Suddenly I was concerned about how I looked to people, and my reflection was not entirely promising. At least my twists - pinned into an updo - looked good. I’d even added a gem-studded barrette. Maybe it would take enough of the focus off of my face.
Helene was escorted up to my parlor by Josefa-Maria and Lili, the latter delivering a tray of freshly prepared spring rolls and tea sandwiches.
“Mistress Helene was kind enough to try these,” Lili informed me.
“Yes,” Helene nodded, giving me a shrewd, assessing look. “I am unfamiliar with the food but found it pleasant.”
“It would be most helpful for Nichte if you would try just a taste,” Josefa-Maria wheedled, and I looked between the three of them. Lili was standing there, holding her breath for my approval, and I knew the other two would have already called the white coats for me if that had been an option.
“Alright.” I took a roll, taking a careful bite. Vegetarian. Flavorful. Wrapper...needs work.
“If you could also try the sauce, Lady Isabelle,” Lili ventured, her dark eyes wide, and the others looked at me expectantly.
Le sigh. “It’s good,” I said thoughtfully. Citrusy, but balanced. Just a little bite.
“And yet,” Josefa-Maria prodded.
“The crispiness is right. But the batter. It wasn’t--”
“Strained!” Lili exclaimed. “I told Nichte you would notice, and that it was important.”
“Yes.” It was still far better than the last rendition I’d tasted. I wondered who had been helping them. “The sauce is nearly perfect though. Good balance with the vinegar and orange.”
Lili beamed at me. “I made the sauce, Lady Isabelle.”
“Have you been able to procure the spiny lobster? That will change the flavor of these considerably,” I told her. Helene cleared her throat, giving me a pointed look, and I wondered if I might have been stalling. “I will taste some more things later, once my meeting has concluded,” I told Lili, and Josefa-Maria quickly stepped out, Lili in tow. Helene was here to talk about my Wedding, and that was The Most Important Thing.
After exchanging the normal pleasantries, the woman dove straight into business.
“I suspect you know why I’m here,” she said, setting down her tea and looking at me directly. I held on to mine, using the cup of fragrant jasmine-green tea as a porcelain shield.
“I hope Lieutenant Commander Coventry hasn’t been pestering you?” I asked politely.
“Not anymore than I have been pestering him,” Helene replied. “I am not here because of anything he may have requested I say or do. I am here because I have words you ought to hear, words that cannot leave this room. The safety of many depends on your silence.”
Well, that was certainly intriguing. In fact, I was certain that this was the true reason for her visit here. I sat up straighter. “Alright. I promise to keep your secret.”
She nodded, then took a minute to gather her words before speaking again. “You appear to be a woman familiar with the…shall we say ‘circumstances’ for which I – and so many others on this island, suddenly found ourselves.” I nodded, grimacing. My knowledge, gleaned from history books and movies, felt insulting and incomplete here and now. “However, when I negotiated to partner with Andrews, those bonds were released. And so I release all those who find their way onto The Hundred--”
“I’m sorry -- what do you mean, ‘negotiated to partner’?”
Helene took a long sip of tea. “Andrews and his,” here she paused, frowned and sighed. “–His wife were looking to expand their holdings.” Wife? “This was before she left him,” Helene clarified, responding to my questioning look. “They weren’t going to accept the man’s offer. Neither were interested in purchasing myself or the other two men along with the land. She – and Andrews – only wanted the land. I would have been sold again and I was tired of not having control over my own life. I spoke to her, told her what I wanted, she spoke to Andrews. Eventually I took over management of the estate.” She gazed at me expectantly.
“Uh, wow,” I managed intelligently. The story sounded remarkably modern for this time. “That’s...wow.”
Helene nodded with a wry grin. “This is not information made widely known. There are those who wouldn’t honor a contract made between myself and those who work for me.” She leaned forward, her voice low and intense. “My people would find themselves captured and shipped far from home. Again. Those violent fools who would try such won’t cross Andrews,” Helene said confidently. “Our remoteness, our wealth, his stature, it is our shield. It’s why I do not often leave. On my land I am me. Here, anywhere else, I no longer belong to myself.” She met my eyes. “You deserve a place to be yourself as well.”
I sipped my tea while I considered her words. While I knew that she had personal reasons for ensuring that my wedding proceeded as planned, I was struck by the magnitude of what Helene had decided to share with me.
“It does not matter to me where you get married. Or how you get married. Marry that man on a raft out at sea. Marry him on our estate. The where doesn’t matter. I see how much he loves you and how much you love him. When you love someone…it’s hard to wake up without them every morning.” The honesty and hurt in her voice was piercing.
“Do you really want to marry him?” I blurted out. Andrews sounded like a textbook womanizer to me.
She laughed. “He’s not so bad, my lady. Good looking. Wonderful father. Attentive…talented,” Helene finished with a meaningful look.
Oh. I hid my blushes behind my tea cup, suddenly feeling like one of the local maidens. “Still. You are more forgiving than I am. The three of you have five of his children between you,” I added at her look.
I’d done some research via my letter writing. Yvonne and Angelica had a daughter each, Sofia and Beri; Helene had a pair of twins, Amelia and Josephine, plus Magnus, who was the youngest and the only boy. The girls were also all fifteen - and all born within weeks of each other.
I thought that made for some very interesting math, and adding in Anne’s recent history with the man only made the equation more confusing.
Helene nodded. “Yes, well.” She shifted. “When his...wife left him there was a summer,” she chuckled slightly. “We were all much younger. Lots more energy. Too old for such parties now,” Helene gestured, waving this off. “He and I discovered there were deeper feelings there.”
“I see,” I said finally. But I totally didn’t see. I was just trying to be polite.
Helene gave me a patient smile. “My life took unexpected turns. I am not unhappy with my choices. For better or worse he is one of those choices.”
I gazed at her thoughtfully. It was all well and good to discuss theories, but I wanted to know the practical facts. What would happen? Would the master of the estate choose to pursue his legal rights? “Has anyone ever tried to leave?”
She shot me a knowing look. “Some do not wish to stay. Some are removed if they refuse to contribute,” Helene shrugged. “Most make the best of it. It’s a small island and attempting to leave means facing leagues of uncompromising ocean and unwelcoming foreign lands and people. There are not many who choose to sail for leisure as you do. Even most of your friends, should they survive the journey, wouldn’t be welcomed back in London.” It took me a moment to realize she was talking about the local nobility. Ian’s friends. “We all make the best of it here.”
Once Helene was gone, I paced the room, smoking like a chimney. I would have to make the best of it too, it seemed. Anne was gone, and the idea of being here in the seventeenth century permanently was forcing me to give things a good, hard look.
Helene had made some other interesting points before she left. Namely, to remind me of how powerless a single woman was.
It was really lucky then, that I was madly in love with Ian. Married to Lieutenant Commander Coventry and already land wealthy in my own right, I would become one of the most formidable women on the island. Even without Anne’s caches of gold and gems, I should be able to parlay that into sustainable wealth--
I was getting ahead of myself.
Breathe.
I found myself thinking about moments again. Dr. Chabliss was a big fan of living in the moment, embracing the present, and all of that jazz. I could hardly think of a more opportune time to truly embrace that philosophy than now.
Breathe.
Feeling like the weirdest of hippies, I stripped down to my shift and started stretching. It felt good to move after my days of wallowing and inactivity.
Breathe.
Take in the world around you. Center yourself.
My friend Helene was not enslaved, and did not live on a plantation. In a hundred years or so, it likely would be; now it was just a working farm, with paid employees. Practically a commune to hear Helene tell it. But - they were still technically supporting the slave trade. So not entirely ethical consumption...but more ethical than many.
Breathe.
It was still very, very messy. I did not like messy. I liked clean hands and no shades of grey. This whole damn place was messy as fuck. For example, I never would have thought I’d have been involved in having my sister shackled in a dungeon, but here we were. It seemed impossible to be an idealist and survive here--
I was getting ahead of myself again.
Breathe in. What did I want?
Breathe out. I wanted to marry Ian.
And he wanted to marry me.
Could it really be so simple?
Stretching turned into yoga and pilates poses, and then my stomach was growling. I finished off the tea sandwiches and rang for Josefa-Maria.
“Will you take this away?” I asked, gesturing towards the leftover spring rolls through the cloud of pot smoke. Her face fell upon seeing me in my underclothing. “And...I think I might be hungry,” I added to her delight.
One day at a time.
Dear Ian -
I find myself with an excess of wine and hope you might be available this evening to help me drink it. Also, I believe we have several days of a certain California custom that we should perhaps make up for - provided you are tractable.
Love,
Your bride to be
“This is for the lieutenant commander,” I told Josefa-Maria, handing over the note. “I’m hoping he’ll see me,” I murmured, twisting my ring.
She smiled back at me. “I am certain he will, my lady,” she said with unusual assertiveness, and took the note away. I was working my way through an onion and herb tart with goat cheese - Nichte and Lili had done very well with this recipe - when Josefa-Maria returned to check in on me.
“Do you think I ought to get dressed, just in case?” I asked her. “I don’t want to go through the effort if he’s not available.” I’d gone days without being corseted up and I wasn’t eager to be restrained again.
“You should get dressed right away, Lady Isabelle.”
I sighed. “You pick,” I told her. “Something simple and comfortable, please.”
“Very good, my lady,” Josefa-Maria whisked into the armoire. “Something quick will be best.”
Her tone was curious. “Why?”
“The lieutenant commander is downstairs.” She smiled at me tentatively. “He’s been down there for days, my lady.”
“Days?” I stared at her. “Are you joking?”
“I am not, my lady,” she said sincerely, and you could tell she thought it was the most romantic thing. “He has been concerned and eager for you to admit him.”
Days. “Oh my goodness. Do you think I could get away with just a shawl?” She’d put me in one of the sturdier dressing gowns, the sort that passed for a simple dress except for the richness of the fabric and trim.
Josefa-Maria nodded. “I think you will be modest enough, Lady Isabelle,” she said kindly, but set a shawl out for me anyway.
“My lady,” Ian greeted me, giving me a formal bow that for once did not match his appearance.
He was unusually rumpled, with days of stubble on his jaw. It was rare to see him anything less than polished, and I’d never seen him look sloppy.
Oh my god, he really had been sleeping in the tavern. No wonder Josefa-Maria thought my housecoat was perfectly fine for the occasion. I’d have felt overdressed in my normal clothing.
“I feel terrible,” I said in a low voice. “I didn’t know you were downstairs.”
He crossed to me in a few quick steps, taking my hands and giving them a series of anxious kisses. “You weren’t to know,” Ian said quietly. “I did not wish for you to be bothered; only to be readily available when you would see me.” He looked into my eyes. “You did not respond with such sorrow and withdrawal even after that distasteful incident on your lands. I was deeply worried, my lady.” I felt awful. “Are you quite well, beloved?” His eyes searched mine.
“My lady,” Josefa-Maria inclined her head, “I will go and bring you more drinking water.” I was pretty sure it was an excuse to give us a few minutes alone together. Not that I was complaining.
“I am feeling much better,” I told him. “And-- I’ve had some news. Helene came to speak with me,” I said, and Ian merely nodded. But of course he knew that, since he’d been downstairs. “You were right. I didn’t understand. Things are different there,” I explained simply, repeating the words he’d used.
“I wish to be entirely certain that I am understanding you correctly.” His eyes bored into mine. “What are you saying, Isabelle?”
“I am saying that I withdraw my objection,” I said once I could finally get my voice to work again. “And the wedding can proceed. Unless you’ve changed your mind--”
Ian leaned down and embraced me. He was delicate, cautious - like he didn’t want to push me. “I am most relieved to hear that,” he confessed, suddenly looking wan.
“Here, come and sit,” I drew him down on the couch beside me. Ian sank back into the cushion with a deep sigh. “Do you want to close your eyes for a bit?”
He blinked a few times, then looked between me and the soft looking pillow at the end of the couch. “Perhaps. Just for a short while,” Ian said with a yawn, slowly leaning over towards the pillow.
“I’ll get you some water.” But by the time I returned with a glass, Ian was fast asleep. I set the glass down on the table and pulled the coverlet-like throw over him, then turned to my desk. I had a pile of correspondence from vendors and other wedding related matters that I needed to respond to.
It was easier than I expected, especially the ones about the location. I didn’t care about the size of the ballroom or the color of the carpets or how the sunlight fell across the pond or any of it. This location was about accommodating the large number of guests that our social standing required us to; since the ladies of St. George’s had been planning for me to get married there since I’d shown up at the Wallington’s dinner wearing The Coventry Opal, I wasn’t overly concerned about the place passing muster.
I decided that short and sweet was best.
Dear Helene,
I’ll do it.
Best,
Isabelle
I looked out the window again, wondering if I would see the familiar silhouette of Anne’s ship in the distance. I didn’t.
Tomorrow was a new day. One day at a time.
Soon, I would be Lady Isabelle Coventry, happily married, running a restaurant, building a shipyard - and with room to grow.
Six days to go.
I found myself looking towards the docks constantly. Anne wouldn’t really abandon me for good and miss my wedding. Would she?
Helene’s reply arrived that afternoon, one of our quicker exchanges.
My Lady,
We will be with you every step of the way.
Yours,
H.
