The Seafaring Lady’s Guide to Love by Fenna Edgewood

Epilogue

November 1827, London

“John!” Philip waveda hand in the air and stepped forward.

The air on the London docks was damp and cool. Snow had been falling all morning. At first a sprinkling, now the flakes were becoming larger and wetter and the wooden boardwalk was fast turning slick with icy slush.

A tall lean man was coming off the gangplank, his seabag swung high up over his shoulder. “Over here!”

“Philip!” John Merriweather beamed as he spotted his friend. “And where is your lovely wife?”

“She went to buy gingerbread at a stall over there,” Philip answered, gesturing with his chin. He clasped his friend by the arm briefly. “It is good to see you. I take it all is well on the Witch?”

“All is well, but it is good to be home. I believe I’ll stay put until spring. If it’s all the same to you?” He grinned at his friend.

“You may stay put only after you first come home with me,” Philip amended. “Or else Rosalind will be most upset. All of her sisters are coming. Well, except for Gracie.” He frowned.

“How is that little scamp?” John asked, grinning. “I suppose the scamp has become a grown-up young lady now. What is she? Seventeen?”

“Eighteen, I believe,” Philip replied.

“Eighteen already.” John shook his head in disbelief. “The crew still recall their ship’s boy Grayson with fondness. Duffels claims she was the finest cabin boy he ever had. Now, I am not sure how accurate a claim that is, but certainly it does wonders to motivate the new boys—to be told that a girl disguised as a boy was fully up to snuff.”

“I can imagine,” Philip said, laughing.

“But you say she will not be joining her family for Christmas?” John inquired. “Visiting some other friends or relations, I suppose?”

“Yes, well,” Philip began. “That is something I wished to discuss with you. You see, she was supposed...”

“John!” A merry voice rang out through the throng and a red-cloaked petite lady stepped forward with outstretched arms and a beaming face. “It is so wonderful to see you!”

Rosalind Calvert was looking even prettier and happier than she had the last time he saw her, John thought, with admiration. He would not mind having a little lady like Philip’s, he decided. No, he would not mind at all. Someone sweet and cheerful to share the darkest days with. Philip was a lucky man—and still a very happy-looking one, five years into his marriage.

Philip’s wife was turning back to a woman behind her. “John, I would like you to meet my mother, Caroline Gardner. Mother, this is Captain John Merriweather of the Witch of the Waves.” She grinned.

“Captain Merriweather.” The woman was dark-haired with the same beautiful smile as her daughter. There was some grey in her hair, mixed in with the dark, but her face was shapely and unlined. She could not have been but a few years older than himself, John thought. “I have heard so much about you. And your fine lady!”

“My lady?” He looked back at Rosalind’s mother blankly. Her eyes were a vivid sparkling blue. Bright and captivating. He felt himself coloring as he realized he was staring.

But Mrs. Gardner merely gave him another easy smile. “Of course, I mean your wooden lady.” She gestured towards the ship. “She is quite something isn’t she?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” he muttered, turning to look with her at the bare-breasted mermaid who rode the front of the galleon. “She has gotten us through many a squall.”

“And many an adventure,” Rosalind added, taking her mother’s arm affectionately. “I will never forget our time spent aboard her in Italy last winter. Such a breathtaking country. You must take a voyage on the Witch one day, Mama.”

“Perhaps,” the older lady mused. “Gracie would probably say I ought to see some pirates before I died.”

“You do not seem anywhere close to death to me,” Captain Merriweather assured her, rolling his eyes. “But yes, I can see your youngest saying that. How is she?”

“Gracie?” Caroline exchanged a glance with her daughter. “We are not quite sure, in fact. She was traveling to visit some friends in the north, but we have not yet received word that she arrived.” She forced a smile. “But I am sure she is merely tardy in informing us. It would hardly be the first time.”

“At least she left you a letter when she went off gallivanting as a boy,” Rosalind grumbled.

“You will meet my other daughters, however, Captain Merriweather,” Caroline went on. “Claire and her husband Thomas, and Thomas’ daughter, Isabel, who is just a little older than our Gracie. As well as Gwendolen and Angel and their brood.” She laughed. “I have been blessed with six grandchildren, captain, though I must say, I did not expect them all to come from one daughter.”

“You hardly look old enough to be a grandmother,” John said, honestly.

“Why captain,” Rosalind said, with a grin. “Are you complimenting my mother? How very sweet.”

“Hush,” her mother murmured, blushing, and patting her daughter’s arm. “You are embarrassing me.”

John pretended not to have heard and instead met Philip’s eye. He quickly wished he had not for his friend gave him a knowing wink which made his cheeks go hot.

“Well,” he said, quickly. “Shall we go? I have everything I need, I believe.”

“Everything he needs but a wife,” he heard Rosalind whisper to her mother from behind as he stepped up next to her husband began to walk towards where their carriage waited.

Philip elbowed him in the stomach playfully. “Rosalind’s mother is a delightful woman.”

“Yes, I can see that,” John replied. “But enough about your wife’s family. I have been remiss. How is your sister? How are Cherry and little Philippa?”

“They are well, thank you,” Philip answered.

“Will they be joining us for Christmas at... What did you say the name of this place is?”

“Orchard Hill,” Philip said, smiling. “Rosalind’s family’s home. And yes, they shall. Philippa loves it there. Rosalind’s mother is like a grandmother to her. However, Orchard Hill is rather small, so you may wind up being accommodated nearby at Northwood or Stoneybrook, which is just down the road.”

“Orchard Hill,” John repeated. “Stoneybrook. It sounds like it will be a very rustic Christmas.”

“Well, yes, it is rather remote compared to London,” Philip agreed. “But you do not like the city anyway, if I recall correctly.”

“No, I do not,” John said, looking upwards at the tall wooden buildings with their brick chimneys spewing dark black smoke into the air. “Compared to being out on the sea, London... Well.” He wrinkled his nose.

“Yes, I quite understand,” Philip said, laughing. “Well, Orchard Hill smells much better. I promise you that. There is nothing like fresh country air in the winter. Crisp snow and wood smoke. Not to mention all of the scents of Christmas baking.” He clapped his hands together, as excitedly as a boy, and John noticed with a smile that marriage agreed with his friend in more ways than one.

Philip was still a muscular man, but he had the makings of a little softness in front. Probably from all of the excellent treats he was so looking forward to. He wondered if the Gardners employed a proficient cook or whether the women indulged in the kitchen work themselves.

“Oh yes, speaking of baking,” Rosalind said, coming up beside them. “Would you like a piece of gingerbread, John?” She held out a paper bag and he gladly took a piece.

“What a peculiar shape,” he observed, looking at the biscuit.

“I think it is supposed to be a heart,” Rosalind said, giggling. “Perhaps the stall owner’s children helped to shape it. That would explain its rather lopsided appearance.”

“Ah, yes.” He took a bite. The bread was spicy, warm, and delicious. He swallowed, then said, “Speaking of children.”

“Yes?” Rosalind looked up at him with interest.

“Well, it seems I have... inherited one.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “In fact, one of the reasons I will be remaining in England this winter is to see about the child. Well, not so much a child as a baby, really, from what I understand,” he added. “I don’t suppose you and Philip would like to come along with me when I go to visit the child?”

“A baby!” Rosalind’s eyes had widened. She glanced at her husband, who looked similarly curious. “But... where are you getting a baby from, John?”

He colored. “It is not mine, if that is what you are asking. In fact, the child is no relation.” He shook his head. “The baby belonged to one of our sailors. Philip, perhaps you’ll recall the man—Lucas Bennet. He contracted a fever a few years ago when he was at home, and he never recovered. His wife lived just outside of London, and myself and the crew—” He looked down at the dock. “Well, we’ve always tried to support the family. His daughter must be about two years old now. The mother has just died as well, you see,” he said, soberly. “She had remarried and was brought to bed. Well, to make the story much shorter than I am doing—the new husband does not want the girl. And it seems there is no other relative to take her in.”

“Oh, no,” Rosalind said, sounding distressed. “The poor little thing. Of course, we will come along to help when you go to meet her.”

“Perhaps you might consider doing even more than helping,” he said, in a rush. “I had thought that you and Philip might wish to consider keeping the little girl. Not that I would not do my duty by her. But... as I have no wife. Well, I simply thought that perhaps...”

“Yes,” Philip interrupted, looking at his wife and exchanging a small smile with her. “We will discuss it, John. Thank you.” He met his friend’s eye and nodded. “We will certainly give consideration to the matter.”

“How exciting,” Rosalind breathed. “Not that it is exciting the little one has lost her poor mother. But still, at Christmas. To perhaps find a new family for a child.” She shook her head. “Well, we will talk more of it later. Here is the carriage.”

John helped Mrs. Gardner step into the conveyance as Philip lent his wife a hand.

Inside, Rosalind sat beside her husband and gave a wide yawn before leaning her head on his shoulder.

John smiled a little to himself. It was a small but tender gesture and he envied it.

He had never longed for children or a wife, but the older he got the more he began to see the value in having a companion. Someone besides his crew, to share his thoughts with. Not to mention his bed.

Mrs. Gardner shifted a little beside him and he jumped.

She was a comely woman, in spite of being a grandmother of six. He would certainly never have guessed it by looking at her.

Of course, at fifty years of age, he might have been a grandfather by this time as well had he chosen a different path.

Rosalind yawned again. “Pardon me, John,” she said, sleepily. “But I cannot promise to be awake for much longer.”

“Of course,” he said, politely. “You must have had a long journey to London, if you came all the way from your village.”

“Oh, no, it is not that,” she said, smiling at him. “We stayed overnight with my sister, Gwen. But her children were so excited to see us that we did not get much sleep. I feel as if we must have been up half the night playing games with them.”

He raised his eyebrows. “It sounds as if Christmas with your family will be quite the hullaballoo.”

“It is certain to be exciting,” Mrs. Gardner said quietly, from beside him.

He looked down to see her gazing up at him, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

“I will greatly look forward to it, then,” he said, softly, smiling down at her and felt warmed all over as she smiled back.

THE END