members below in the boiler room. “I figured it out. We’re going to Boston,” she told Mr. Cushman as she reclined on one of the cushioned deck chairs in the shade.
He leaned against the rail watching the paddle wheel rhythmically spraying water and didn’t reply except to turn his attention upon her.
“Shall I call you by your given name now that you’re my husband?” She batted her eyelashes at him in an attempt to lighten the mood.
He didn’t blink an eye.
“Since you’re so enthusiastic about it,” she said, “then I shall take that as my sign to do as I please.”
“I think you would do as you please whether I’m enthusiastic or not.”
She smiled.
His hand was stuffed into his trouser pocket and from the movement, she could tell he was twisting something around and around. She’d never seen him nervous before and the thought that he might be even slightly worried about their travels today made her sit up.
“We’ll be safe, won’t we?” She hated that her voice caught.
He nodded. “Your father paid the pilot and crew handsomely to stay silent.” His features were more somber than she’d ever seen them.
“Then what’s bothering you?” she asked.
He removed his hand from his pocket, crossed to her, and held something out. As she took it, she realized it was a simple gold ring with a tiny engraving of roses at the front. “You’ll need a wedding band,” he said. Without waiting for her to slip it on, he returned to stand at the rail once again, his back and shoulders stiff as he peered out over the water.
She knew she shouldn’t be hurt by his abruptness, that their marriage was in-name only and would be over in a month. Even so, she couldn’t hold at bay the doubts that came creeping back in. What if God didn’t want them to play at an institution meant to be revered? Was Tom having doubts too?
When they docked in Bourne, they boarded a stagecoach. She’d expected the coach to take them north along the coastal road to Boston and was surprised when, after only an hour or so, they stopped in the small town of Sandwich.
They purchased tickets and headed up the gangplank of another steamer, this one a far cry from the private luxurious boat they’d ridden on that morning. Not only was it small, but the white paint that hadn’t yet peeled away was a dirty, smoky gray. The deck was warped in places and some of the rail slats had fallen away. She was taken aback further when Tom led her down the steps to the boiler deck filled with children running around, babies fussing, and parents attempting to manage the unruliness. She started to protest and insist that Tom take her upstairs to nicer accommodations, but he ushered her to an empty spot, claiming that the crowded area was the best place to hide.
Before she could argue with him further, an older couple took the bench across from where she sat. The man unrolled a newspaper from under his arm and began reading. not seeming to notice her and Tom in the least. However, his dour wife, attired in all black, apparently decided that she and Tom were to be her entertainment for the afternoon. The woman stared openly as Victoria instructed Tom to fetch her shawl from her bag. When Victoria proceeded to ask him to close one of the windows because of the draft, the older woman pursed her lips as if she didn’t believe in men doting on women.
“He’s such a good husband, isn’t he?” Victoria held up the wedding ring Tom had given her on the Lady Caroline . “We just got married.”
The woman’s brow quirked skeptically. “Is that so? I would have guessed he was your manservant.”
“Oh no,” Victoria said quickly. She obviously wasn’t playing her role believably enough. Although Tom had doted on her, he’d been much too silent and aloof, always on duty, noticing everyone and every detail. Even now, he was standing next to their bags, his feet braced and his arms crossed. Indeed, he looked more like her hired help than her
He leaned against the rail watching the paddle wheel rhythmically spraying water and didn’t reply except to turn his attention upon her.
“Shall I call you by your given name now that you’re my husband?” She batted her eyelashes at him in an attempt to lighten the mood.
He didn’t blink an eye.
“Since you’re so enthusiastic about it,” she said, “then I shall take that as my sign to do as I please.”
“I think you would do as you please whether I’m enthusiastic or not.”
She smiled.
His hand was stuffed into his trouser pocket and from the movement, she could tell he was twisting something around and around. She’d never seen him nervous before and the thought that he might be even slightly worried about their travels today made her sit up.
“We’ll be safe, won’t we?” She hated that her voice caught.
He nodded. “Your father paid the pilot and crew handsomely to stay silent.” His features were more somber than she’d ever seen them.
“Then what’s bothering you?” she asked.
He removed his hand from his pocket, crossed to her, and held something out. As she took it, she realized it was a simple gold ring with a tiny engraving of roses at the front. “You’ll need a wedding band,” he said. Without waiting for her to slip it on, he returned to stand at the rail once again, his back and shoulders stiff as he peered out over the water.
She knew she shouldn’t be hurt by his abruptness, that their marriage was in-name only and would be over in a month. Even so, she couldn’t hold at bay the doubts that came creeping back in. What if God didn’t want them to play at an institution meant to be revered? Was Tom having doubts too?
When they docked in Bourne, they boarded a stagecoach. She’d expected the coach to take them north along the coastal road to Boston and was surprised when, after only an hour or so, they stopped in the small town of Sandwich.
They purchased tickets and headed up the gangplank of another steamer, this one a far cry from the private luxurious boat they’d ridden on that morning. Not only was it small, but the white paint that hadn’t yet peeled away was a dirty, smoky gray. The deck was warped in places and some of the rail slats had fallen away. She was taken aback further when Tom led her down the steps to the boiler deck filled with children running around, babies fussing, and parents attempting to manage the unruliness. She started to protest and insist that Tom take her upstairs to nicer accommodations, but he ushered her to an empty spot, claiming that the crowded area was the best place to hide.
Before she could argue with him further, an older couple took the bench across from where she sat. The man unrolled a newspaper from under his arm and began reading. not seeming to notice her and Tom in the least. However, his dour wife, attired in all black, apparently decided that she and Tom were to be her entertainment for the afternoon. The woman stared openly as Victoria instructed Tom to fetch her shawl from her bag. When Victoria proceeded to ask him to close one of the windows because of the draft, the older woman pursed her lips as if she didn’t believe in men doting on women.
“He’s such a good husband, isn’t he?” Victoria held up the wedding ring Tom had given her on the Lady Caroline . “We just got married.”
The woman’s brow quirked skeptically. “Is that so? I would have guessed he was your manservant.”
“Oh no,” Victoria said quickly. She obviously wasn’t playing her role believably enough. Although Tom had doted on her, he’d been much too silent and aloof, always on duty, noticing everyone and every detail. Even now, he was standing next to their bags, his feet braced and his arms crossed. Indeed, he looked more like her hired help than her
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