The Indebted Earl by Erica Vetsch (love letters to the dead TXT) 📕

will take us. Find a seat. Miles, let’s shove off.” The lines on Charles’s face had smoothed out, and he looked eager and happy and younger somehow.

She tried to get her stomach muscles to relax.

“Are you sure you won’t join us, Reverend?” Charles asked.

“Thank you, no. I have some visitations to make before it gets dark. Enjoy your voyage. Miles, perhaps you’d like to head up toward Lyme Regis? Show them the cliffs there?”

“I thought we’d head west, this first time aboard.” Charles reached across the gap to shake the vicar’s hand. “Anyway, the majority of Gateshead’s coastline is to the west, and I’d like to see it from the water.”

Mamie took a seat near the back of the boat and tucked her arm through Penny’s.

“Can I sit right up front?” Thea asked. “There’s a little bench there.”

Sophie wanted to tell her no, that she needed to stay close to an adult at all times, but Charles got in first. “As long as you don’t mind a bit of spray in your face.”

The vicar helped Miles loosen the mooring lines, and using his boot, pushed the Shearwater away from the pier. With the tide going out, the boat was soon bobbing away from shore.

“Sir,” Miles said, “the wind’s running east. The sailing will be easier that way. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to take the ladies to see Lyme Regis? The cliffs will look nice in the afternoon sunshine.”

“I’m sure. It might require some tacking to head west, but the return trip will be quicker. Look lively now.”

Sophie dropped onto the bench beside Mamie, and Betsy climbed into her lap.

“Enys, raise the mainsail.” Charles wended toward the stern and took hold of the tiller.

Miles untied the lines holding the sail along a spar, then hauled on a rope. With each tug, the large triangle of canvas inched toward the top of the mast. With a few luffs of breeze, the sail filled and bellied out.

“Raise the jib,” Charles called.

Miles headed forward and unfurled another sail.

“What’s that called?” Betsy asked, pointing to the long spar along the bottom edge of the sail.

“That’s the boom,” Charles answered. “It controls the angle of the sail. The tiller and the angle of the boom direct the ship.”

They sailed west, and once they were out of the shelter of the cove, the waves increased in size. Sophie half stood to check on Thea. The girl knelt in the bow, hands braced on the gunwales, her hair streaming out behind her, loose from its braids. She looked like a figurehead from mythology.

A splash of uneasiness washed over Sophie, and she swallowed. Nerves. It had been an emotional day, serious at the wedding service, cheerful at the picnic, and now apprehensive. With all the upheaval, she would surely sleep well tonight.

“Is it difficult to sail a ship?” Penny asked Miles as he coiled a rope over his forearm.

“Not if you know what you’re doing. I’ve sailed the Shearwater by myself before, but it’s better with two or three men.” He stowed the rope in a locker. “I’ll teach you, if you like.”

Those two would bear watching, but Sophie wasn’t much worried. Penny seemed to be more in love with love than serious about Miles or any young man. In the coming days, there would be time for Sophie to talk with Penny about appropriate behavior and the importance of guarding her heart until the right person came along.

Mamie looked from the shore to the sky to the waves to the horizon, taking everything in and seemingly content. But then again, she’d been raised by the sea and had sailed often. Sophie loved the pure enjoyment on the older woman’s face.

A bit of dizziness swirled behind Sophie’s eyes, and she lurched, grabbing the edge of the bench with one hand and tightening her hold on Betsy with the other. Mercy!

Cold clamminess sprang out on her brow, and she gulped fresh air.

Charles had his spyglass out, surveying the coast, his knee hooked over the tiller to hold it still. He lowered the telescope, frowned, and raised the glass again.

“Enys, what’s that?” he called, pointing to a discolored gash in the cliff face.

“Oh, that’s an old sea cave that collapsed some time ago. Rumor had it that it used to be a smuggling den, but that’s a silly old tale. The tide floods the base of the cave. No smuggler worth his salt would store goods in a place where they could get swept out to sea.” He shrugged.

“It looks like someone built something in the gash.” Charles looked again through the spyglass.

“I think Grayson tried to stabilize the cliff there. He said there was a barn at the top, and he didn’t want to lose the building if he could help it. He put some stairs along there, and he lets the crofters use that part of the beach to fish. He said it would keep them from using the earl’s stairs.”

“I see. I haven’t had a chance yet to look over the entire estate.” Charles studied the crack in the rock. He looked sober, and Sophie wondered if he would have time to survey all the property before he was called up by the navy.

“Look, white-beaked dolphins.” Miles pointed to the south.

Everyone swiveled around, and Mamie inhaled sharply. “I haven’t seen a dolphin since I was a girl.”

It took Sophie a moment to spot them. Sunlight reflecting off the water made them difficult to see, but once spotted, she could follow them. As the dolphins cavorted, another wave of nausea slopped through her.

Perhaps something from lunch didn’t agree with her. She closed her eyes, but the dizziness got worse.

“Are you well?” Mamie asked, resting her hand on Sophie’s arm.

Swallowing hard, Sophie nodded. “Fine.” The word came out a whisper. Her head spun, and her stomach lurched.

“Sophie?” Charles waved to Miles to take over the tiller and squatted beside her. “What’s wrong?”

Bile rose, and with an effort she held it back, but weakness radiated through her limbs. What