Sea Mistress (2 page)

“See that he's put ashore,” Seth Garret commanded. “I won't tolerate drunkards on my ship.”

Bess couldn't make out the other officer's reply. The conversation became unintelligible as they entered the cabin across the passageway.

Assailed by bittersweet memories, Bess released a pent-up breath. The years fell away and she could see Seth's teasing smile again, hear his tense and adoring voice as he solemnly declared his love for her.

A cabin door clicked shut. The images faded, as did Bess's nostalgia. Reality hit her hard, like a bucket of cold water. Her expression hardened. Seth Garret had used and then abandoned her. He would pay for his sins!

She lay back on the bed, staring at the bunk above her. She could hear Reeves snoring. Her lips curved into a gentle smile. Her faithful protector had slept through the noise; he would probably sleep through a hurricane!

She shuddered, thinking of the inevitable confrontation between her and Seth, his anger when he learned that she—and not her cousin—was the major stockholder in the
Sea Mistress. He'll be furious when he finds out that he'll have to deal with me to purchase the ship. I'll be the only one standing in his way of owning the vessel, and I have no intention of selling out to him!

She grinned into the dark. And when he learned that she was his benefactor and not her cousin, that, in fact, George Metcalfe didn't even exist . . .

If it weren't for her, Seth's ship would still be damaged and rotting in some god-forsaken shipyard. Seth Garret owed her—his “benefactor”— much more than he'd ever dreamed.

Bess closed her eyes and immediately saw his face. Not the face of Captain Seth Garret, but the features of a young man . . . a sailor. She fought back tears as she recalled the past—the way he courted her . . . the love that had come quickly . . . and the fiery passion of two young and intense lovers. How wonderful it would have been if things had happened the way they'd planned . . .

She stared into the dark. She felt a lancing pain within her breast as the memories returned—the bittersweet memories . . . her initial hostility toward him . . . her fascination with someone who was so different from the rest of the young men she'd known. And the joy! When they'd finally realized how they'd felt for each other, she felt such joy and happiness it had almost been frightening.

And then Seth left her, and she'd suffered the agony of heartbreak.

Bess fought the memories, but she couldn't hold them at bay . . .

 

The first time she saw the young man was in the parlor of her uncle's home. Seth Garret was a sailor, a quiet fellow with dark, wavy hair and bright blue eyes. He had come with Captain Johnson of the clipper ship,
Sea Mistress,
to meet with Bess's uncle. Joel Johnson was the man in charge of transporting the E. Metcalfe Co. goods.

Bess bounded into the house after an outing with her friends. She had removed her bonnet, and her golden hair was slightly mussed. Her long tresses had been pinned up, but a silky curl bobbed at each side of her face, making her hair style seem less severe. She wore a fitted royal blue jacket with skirt of striped blue and black. Her dark eyes glistened with excitement as she burst into the room to greet Captain Johnson, a long-time family friend.

“Uncle Joeson!” she cried. “It's so good to see you.”

The older man grinned. “Lisabeth! How is my favorite da-nice?”

She laughed with delight. “Fine, uncle, just fine.” Just as she had her own pet name for him, the captain had a special term for her,
da-nice
, which was an abbreviated form of daughter-niece. “How long will you be in Wilmington?”

“That depends on your Uncle Edward,” Uncle Joeson said. He transferred his attention to his first officer, who sat nearby.

Bess's gaze slid to the young man on the sofa. “Hello,” she said, studying the stranger. She pretended to have just noticed him, but she had become aware of the handsome seaman immediately on entering the room. “A friend of yours, Uncle Joeson?” She glanced toward Joel Johnson for confirmation.

Uncle Joeson nodded. “Elisabeth, this is Seth Garret,” he said. “My first officer. Seth, this is Edward's ward—his niece, Elisabeth. Mary Metcalfe.”

She met his regard boldly. “How do you do?”

Seth's stare seemed to take her measure with an intensity that gave Bess gooseflesh and made her heart thump wildly. “I'm honored to make your acquaintance,” he said without standing.

Bess stiffened, insulted by his lack of manners. Didn't the man know that it was proper for a gentleman to rise when introduced to a lady? She was used to having the local young men fawn over her; they were most eager to please her, often bringing her flowers and fancy treats in order to win favor with her.

Offended by such rude behavior, she turned away, abruptly dismissing Seth Garret as if he weren't in the room. “Uncle,” she said, addressing Edward, “Amelia has been given the most outrageous thing! A dog! An ugly one! In fact, it's so ugly, I think it's beautiful! You must see it. Is it all right if she brings it one day next week?”

“Only you would find beauty in an ugly creature, Bess,” Edward said with an indulgent smile. “As for this dog, go ahead and have her bring— him, is it?” he asked. Bess nodded. “Well, bring him over so we can get a look at him.”

Edward Metcalfe couldn't deny his niece anything, for he had loved her dearly from the first moment she'd been given into his care at the tender age of nine years. Elisabeth's father was Edward's brother, who, along with his wife Gwendolyn, had died in a tragic accident while on a pleasant Sunday afternoon ride in their carriage. During the outing, their horse had been frightened by a snake and had taken off hell-bent over the rough countryside. The Metcalfes had been unable to control the animal, and the vehicle had barreled off the road and down into a ravine. Gwendolyn had broken her neck when she was thrown from the carriage. Matthew, Bess's father, had been killed seconds later when the carriage crashed into the bottom of the ravine.

Grief-stricken by the loss of his brother and sister-in-law, Edward had been awarded the care of his niece Bess. A bachelor of advanced years, Edward had been instantly charmed by the nine-year-old child, welcoming her not only into his household but into his affections as well. His job, at first, hadn't been an easy one; little Bess had mourned her loss deeply. It was only after months of attention during which Edward kept her with him for hours on end, even taking the youngster with him down to the docks, that she began to recover. As she grew, so did her interest in her uncle's business. Edward was more than willing to share not only his home, but his passion for the E. Metcalfe Mercantile Co.

“You said ‘we', uncle.” Bess turned with delight to her “Uncle Joeson”. “Are you staying awhile, Uncle Joeson?”

The man nodded. A fellow with bronzed, weather-lined features, he had the most kind eyes, Bess thought. And a warm smile. She'd heard stories of cruelty on board the
Sea Mistress,
but Bess had never, for one moment, believed any of them. She knew her Uncle Joeson; he might be a strict man, but he was a fair one, too. He would never be harsh without good cause.

Her pleasure with Uncle Joeson's visit dimmed as it occurred to her that the young, rude sailor might be staying also. “Mr. Garret, will you be visiting relatives while you're in Delaware?” Her tone was clipped and cold.

“Seth will be staying with us,” Uncle Edward said with a frown. “You will see that a nice room is prepared for him, won't you, Elisabeth Mary?”

His uncle's use of her full name, along with his look of warning, told her that he was annoyed with her.

“I have no family in Delaware, Miss Metcalfe,” Seth said quietly, and she flushed with guilt.

Later, in her bedchamber, Bess found that she couldn't put Seth out of her mind. Something about his expression haunted her, but she couldn't pinpoint what it was. He was attractive, but she was acquainted with a lot of good-looking men. And she never judged a person on the basis of his looks alone.

“We have guests—did you see them?” she asked her maid Mary later when the servant was helping her dress for the evening meal.

“Yes, Miss.” Mary encountered her mistress's gaze in the vanity mirror. “The captain is here, and a young man . . . a sailor, cook says. A right handsome one, too.”

Bess looked away. “I suppose some would think him handsome,” she murmured, pretending indifference. “But then sailors are all the same—crude, common, and extremely rude.”

“That's not what Mrs. Cookson says,” Mary said as she pinned up Bess's hair. “Says he offered to carry some flour into the kitchen for her, and anything else she might want brung in from the stores.”

Bess was surprised. She didn't really believe that all seamen were common louts, for Uncle Joeson was a sailor and he was a sweetheart.

Why would Mr. Garret help a servant?

“There,” Mary murmured as she finished fastening tiny lavender flowers onto Bess's pinned-up curls. She smiled. “You look lovely, Miss Metcalfe. Mr. Garret will think so, too.”

“Mr. Garret?” Bess said. “Why should I care what Mr. Garret thinks?”

Why, indeed,
she thought. Yet, she did for some unknown reason, although she'd never openly admit it to anyone.

The men were seated at the dining room table when Bess put in an appearance. Captain Johnson and her uncle rose upon seeing her. Seth Garret, she noted, was slower in following their lead.

Irritated, she greeted the other two men warmly and then addressed Seth as if she could barely tolerate his presence.

“I trust you've found your room comfortable,” she said, her dark eyes glacial.

Seth seemed amused, which annoyed her more. “The room is adequate. Thank you.”

Bess's lips firmed. The man could at least show a little more appreciation, she thought. She had given him the manor's nicest guest room, a well-lighted bedchamber with blue wallpaper, rich mahogany furniture and a magnificent view over the back flower gardens and lawn. Yet Seth Garret seemed to care little about his surroundings.

Captain Johnson pulled out Bess's chair, and she thanked him and sat down, conscious of Seth Garret's stare. Dinner conversation was gracious and lively between the two older gentlemen and Bess, who made it a point to entertain her two “uncles”. Seth Garret said little, answering only when directly spoken to, and then answering only in monosyllables.

As the evening lengthened, Bess's irritation became anger. Edward Metcalfe was seated at the head of the table with Seth Garret in the place of honor at the other end. Bess and Joel Johnson were positioned on the sides opposite one another with Bess to her uncle's left and the captain to Edward's right.

When Edward and Joel began to reminisce about the days of their youth, Bess studied Seth, who was eating his dessert. His continued silence grated on her nerves.

“So, tell me, Mr. Garret, why do you like the life of a sailor?” she asked, hoping to provoke a reaction from him. “Don't you like people?” Anger, she thought, was better than this polite indifference.

Seth set down his fork and fixed her with his blue gaze. “I like people well enough, Miss Metcalfe. It's the silly social games that people play that I find difficult to tolerate.” With a great show of movement, he picked up the eating utensil again and resumed eating.

Bess's face brightened with outrage. The man was deliberately trying to annoy her! She wouldn't let him get off lightly! “How old were you when you first went to sea?” she demanded.

He stopped and stared at her with his fork inches away from his mouth. “Old enough to make my own decisions and leave home, Miss Metcalfe.” He opened his lips and ate his pie. Fascinated, Bess watched the movement of his jaw as he chewed and then the bob of his throat as he swallowed. Within seconds he had eaten his slice of apple pie.

“Were you ever a cabin boy?” she asked as he pushed away his empty plate.

He arched one eyebrow as he gave her a thorough lookover. “Do I look like a boy to you?”

Bess blushed. There was something sexual about his expression, his low tone. She flashed the other two occupants of the room a glance, but they were too deep in their conversation to notice her and Seth.

“What? No comment, Miss Metcalfe?” Seth arched his eyebrows. “You've had plenty to say until now.”

Bess bristled. “I was trying to be polite,
Mr.
Garret.”

There was a tense silence as he studied her. Ignoring him, she made a display of eating pie, much as he'd done only moments before.

“Like hell,” he said softly, and she choked on her food.

He stood and came to her, slapping her on the back as she gasped for air.

“Bess, are you all right?” Edward asked with concern.

Eyes watering, she nodded. Seth had gone back to his seat, and she glared at him, her back smarting from his palm. After sending him a silent message of anger, she ignored him and finished her pie in silence.

Bess was indignant. Seth Garret had insulted her, made her choke, and then to compound his offenses, he'd slapped her on the back—three times!

When she was done with her dinner, Bess rose from her seat. She'd had enough of Seth Garret for an evening . . . for a lifetime!

After excusing herself to the older gentlemen, she went to Uncle Edward and kissed his cheek. “Good night, Uncle Edward.” She offered Uncle Joeson a radiant smile. “Good to have you here, Uncle Joeson.”

But she said nothing at all to Seth Garret.

Bess escaped to her room, where she hoped to conceive excuses to be absent from the house during the next few days. A week or more with Seth Garret in the house, she thought, is going to seem like an eternity. Tomorrow she would see her friend Marjorie. The day after there was Anne to visit, and Priscilla the next day after that.

When she came downstairs to breakfast the next morning, Bess found that Uncle Joeson and his first officer had gone for the day to conduct ship business at the docks—business, Uncle Edward told her, that would absent their guests from the house for several hours during each day of their stay. Bess was grateful that her fears of having to entertain the sailor had proved groundless.

Their guests, however, did return in time for supper, and the evening began much as the previous one. But it was Uncle Edward who pulled out Bess's chair for her.

“Be gracious to Seth, Elisabeth,” he warned softly.

She answered him with an annoyed look, and then she nodded.

They were nearly finished with their meal when Edward suggested that they retire to the parlor.

“Bess, perhaps Mr. Garret plays cards . . . ?” He glanced toward the young man for confirmation.

Bess tensed. She'd been searching for an excuse to part company for the night. “Oh, but Uncle Edward, I don't—”

“I do,” Seth interrupted, much to Bess's surprise. “But I enjoy chess more.” He glanced at her with a knowing look. “Do you play chess, Miss Metcalfe?” His tone suggested that he knew she wanted to escape, but he wasn't about to let her go so easily.

The challenge was there; she couldn't ignore it. The man was attractive, but his arrogance was appalling.

“I play chess, Mr. Garret.” Her smile was tight. “In fact, I can beat Uncle Edward, and he's the one who taught me.”

Looking skeptical, Seth transferred his attention to Edward Metcalfe.

“She's telling the truth, Seth,” Edward grumbled good-naturedly. “We haven't played in a while, because the minx beats me every time.”

“Are you a betting woman, Miss Metcalfe?” Seth asked.

“Her name is Elisabeth,” her uncle said. “I'm sure she'd be delighted if you'd call her Bess.” Bess wanted to hit her guardian.

“No, Mr. Garret, I do not gamble.” She was angered further by the amusement shimmering in Seth's blue eyes.

“Too bad,” he murmured for her ears alone.