“Do you know where we can find the purser?” I asked the group.
“Do not engage with them,” Harriet murmured.
One of the men pointed to a uniformed man with a notepad conferring with a young couple farther down the deck.
I nodded a thank-you and we moved towards the purser just as a flurry of activity caught everyone’s attention. A group of young women were making their way along the main deck towards the stairs that led to the lower decks. Like a gaggle of geese, they were led by a stout woman in front and an even stouter man took up the rear. There must have been almost sixty of them, I thought. As they shuffled dutifully along, some dabbed handkerchiefs to their tearful faces while others giggled with excitement.
They must be the unmarried women who were spoken of at the Columbia Emigration Society meeting, I realized. Orphans, unemployed workers from the cotton mills in Lancashire and London factories, the dispossessed, and a few gentlewomen unable to cover the cost of their passage. Their keepers shooed the women towards the stairs. One woman stumbled in the confusion, and I moved to help her, but Harriet held me back.
“It’s not your place, Charlotte.”
The woman managed to get up on her own, moving slowly and carefully, as if protecting herself from a previous injury. She was striking. With her golden-brown skin and thick, silky black hair, she stood out from the other emigrant women. I couldn’t help but wonder what her story was, but Harriet was pulling me away, towards the purser.
In short order, he directed us to our cabin, one of twelve that opened directly off the top deck. From what I could see, one row was occupied by men, the other, by women and couples.
I followed Harriet into our quarters. In his characteristic concern for saving money, Charles had purchased one first-class room for Hari, with an adjoining maid’s room for me, which proved to be a tiny, windowless chamber with just enough space for a bunk. I noticed it had a hinged board that could be pulled into place to prevent one from falling out of bed. No doubt a precaution for children. I couldn’t imagine adults needing such a contraption.
But there were a few simple delights in the main room. Two comfortable-looking chairs, a white porcelain washbasin with its blue stencil depicting the Tynemouth and a matching water pitcher, a light blue velveteen coverlet on the bed, hooks along one wall for hanging clothes, and a sculpted mirror bolted to the opposite wall. I allowed myself a small smile.
“It doesn’t take much to please you, does it?” Hari said as she felt the bed before sitting gingerly on the edge. “How soon you forget the luxuries we once had. I had hoped for something much grander. Thank God it’s only temporary. Governor and Mrs. Douglas’s residence will be a welcome respite after this.”
The governor, I knew, was a high-ranking man in the Hudson’s Bay fur trading company. Charles had sent letters of introduction for us until we could find suitable lodgings elsewhere, but what was next? Hari would starve before she would consider a paid position, and I had no employable skills. Harriet saw the concerned look on my face.
“Don’t worry. Charles will call us home. He needs me far more than he realizes. I did everything for him, even wrote some of his speeches. And if you marry respectably, I’m convinced all will be forgiven and forgotten.”
Her optimism weighed me down. I had to tell her now. I sat next to her and took one of her hands in mine. “There’s something I need to tell you. I overheard a conversation Charles had with Lord Ainsley.” I had kept the awful story bottled up inside me for so long it poured out of me now. I told her everything, how Charles had suggested the adoption of Mary’s boys and his uncle’s tacit agreement, the one concern being the need to get permission to pass the title to an adopted child. I didn’t add that Charles was fairly confident about his petition to the Committee of Privileges. As I spoke, Hari’s eyes widened, then a heavy sadness fell around the corners, but she kept up a defiant chin.
“Well, there you are, my perfect opportunity,” she said once I was done.
“I’m sorry?”
“If permission is not granted, then Charles will have no choice other than to try to have a child with me and he’ll have to forget about Mary Sledge and her boys.” She reached into her handbag and withdrew a green vial and pulled the stopper. “This is great news,” she said weakly.
“Wait a minute.” I pulled the vial from her hand. In the weeks leading up to our voyage, she’d been taking the medication with more and more regularity, but she only seemed to be getting sicker.
“What exactly is this, Harriet?”
“Something Dr. Randolph gave me to settle my nerves. Give it back.”
She reached for it, and I noticed her dry, yellowing nails. She had a hungry, feral look in her eye, and I let her take it. I watched with a sinking heart as she took a long swallow.
“Are you sure it’s wise to take so much?” I asked.
But the medicine was already taking effect. Her dark-shadowed eyes glassed over and she lay down on the bed. I picked up the tiny glass container and sniffed. There was an acidic smell, like vinegar. I didn’t recognize what it was, nor could I make a guess based on its amber colour. Something in the pit of my stomach told me that it wasn’t good for my sister.
A sharp rap at the cabin door made me leap to my feet.
