“Oh, stop being such a ninny,” she said sternly to herself under her breath. “There’s absolutely no reason to be frightened.”
But the brave words did nothing to dispel her sense of foreboding. She’d seen the young man come and leave this morning, had heard the thunder of hooves on frozen earth, and knew that something of significance had occurred. She just couldn’t imagine what. Elise refused to entertain the notion that it was bad news. They’d had more than enough of that lately. The anxiety of not knowing made her hand shake as she finally raised it and knocked on the solid oak door.
“Come,” her father called out. He stood with his back to the room, gazing out the window. The diamond-shaped panes glittered in the morning light, bright winter sunshine filling the room, which was freezing cold, the fire having been laid but not lit per her father’s instructions. Hugh de Lesseps conserved firewood whenever possible; his own comfort was of little importance to him these days.
Elise stood just inside the room, waiting for her father to speak. He finally turned around, his expression unreadable. Elise couldn’t help noticing the stooped shoulders or the stern set of his lips. Her father had aged drastically during the past year. His once-dark hair and beard were now streaked with gray, and his powerful frame had shrunk, making him appear older than his forty-seven years. Hugh de Lesseps’s deep-set eyes studied his daughter, his head cocked to the side, as if he were listening to some inner voice.
“What is it, Father?” Elise asked, now even more worried than before. “Are you ill?”
“Sit down, child,” Hugh said. “I would speak with you.”
Hugh lowered himself into the carved hardback chair behind the massive desk and clasped his hands, his fingers intertwined. Normally, her father leaned back, but today he was hunched forward, his shoulders stiff with strain. His eyes slid away from Elise toward the cold fireplace, as if he was reluctant to speak, and he remained silent for a few moments before finally facing her again.
“Elise, I’ve had a messenger this morning,” he began.
“Yes, I saw him leave,” Elise replied. “What news?”
Her father took a deep breath as his eyes met hers over the breadth of the desk. “I won’t beat about the bush. You’re old enough to know the truth, and since your mother died, you have been the lady of this house and a mother to your sisters.”
Her father sighed, as he did every time he mentioned his late wife, who’d left them only last February. Nothing had been the same since. The house seemed cold and empty, even on the warmest and sunniest of days. The laughter had died, as had the music. Hugh often called his wife frivolous while she was alive, but he always said it with a smile, glad to see his wife laughing and dancing with her daughters. Their two sons were grown men now, one living in Massachusetts Bay Colony and one in Port Royal, Jamaica, where he was most useful to his father.
Caroline de Lesseps had been a child bride, a girl of fifteen when Hugh married her, and she’d retained something of that innocence and joy, a quality he loved above all else in a woman who never aged in his eyes. She’d been only thirty-six when she died, but to him she was still the young, beautiful girl who took his breath away the first time he saw her. It had been a marriage of convenience arranged by the families of the couple, but the relationship had blossomed into one of love and respect and became a true partnership. Many men married again once the period of mourning was over, but Elise was certain that her father wouldn’t look at another woman for a long time to come, if ever. No one could replace his beautiful Caroline, and secretly she was glad.
Hugh de Lesseps pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he had a terrible headache, then looked up at his daughter, his expression one of utter misery.
“The messenger was from Lord Asher. I owe him a great deal of money since the cargo he’d paid for is now at the bottom of the sea. I am not in a position to repay him, at least not at this time. Since the sinking of the Celeste, our financial situation is dire, Elise.”
The Celeste went down in a storm just off the coast of Jamaica in September, taking with it all her father’s precious cargo and its crew. Hugh de Lesseps owned one more ship, the Sea Nymph, but no ships crossed the Atlantic during the winter, and it would be nearly a year before Hugh saw any profit from the sale of the cargo the crew would bring back from the West Indies.
“Is Lord Asher demanding payment?” Elise asked carefully. She had more of an education than most girls of her station and understood only too well the ramifications of losing the cargo and the vessel. Her father would need ready capital to purchase goods, which would be shipped to Jamaica and sold, the profit used to purchase Jamaican goods that would then be transported to the American colonies. A third cargo would then be loaded on the ship for the voyage back to England, the hold loaded with tobacco, furs traded from the savages, and wooden spars, which would be sold to the Navy for the building of masts. Only once the cargo was sold in England would a profit
