The Reverend's Daughter (Book 2 after The Duke's Daughter)

Eighteen Part Three

Betsy luxuriated in the tub in the Captain's cabin. It was the first freshwater bath she had the pleasure of indulging in since leaving the Isle. The salt baths had sufficed while out on the open sea, but the lavender scented freshwater felt sublime.

That Violet thought of it, having encouraged her to relax and have some time of peace and quiet in their cabin, made it even more sweet to enjoy.

The widow McFarlane had gifted her with the lavender soap she now used to create suds through her hair, the scent relaxing her, as she lowered herself into the water to rinse.

She heard Violet enter the outer cabin and smiled, knowing he would soon come to find her, she missed him even though he had left only a short while before.

She closed her eyes and listened to him move about the outer room, he started humming a waltz, which made her open her eyes and smile slightly. The curtain was drawn open, as she had the privacy of the inner chamber, candles were lit on the table next to the bed.

He entered and brought with him a warm bucket of water, smiling at her as he set it next to the tub. He sat on the bed as she reached a hand out to him, him taking her hand gently into his own.

"All preparations have been made, we only await Marcus and my mother to come aboard and we can depart early in the morning."

"I am glad the pastor offered Chauncey a place to stay, was it not sweet how he and Anna visited all afternoon?" Betsy's eyes twinkled in amusement, thinking of how once Chauncey could see, he had turned his charms upon the elderly widows. He had shared stories of foreign ports, the different ways he remembered people had dressed and spoken. He had been surprisingly animated and charming, his eyes aglow, taking in all their responses and interest. It had been wonderful to watch him come alive, knowing that his future would be that much brighter, now that he could see the world around him. He had escorted Anna to her home, bowing gallantly before leaving her door, whistling as he had made his way to Sissy's yard to watch the men finish a pen for the lambs.

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Pastor Andrew Fielding had made his way across the field, from his own cottage, to join the working men.
"Marcus, if I may have a moment of your time, I believe this may help the men when they ask for their pardon."

Marcus, of course, would take any help that could be had. "What have you there, Pastor?"

"These are the children's records, each and every child is accounted for, the ones returned to their families, and the orphans we have placed in homes."

Timothy and Jonah would be accompanying the men to London, as Violet hoped to locate their grandfather while they were there.

Timothy kept working alongside Pete on the pen, but he heard the pastor, and he lent an ear to the conversation.

"That should be helpful, Andrew," Marcus nodded at the good man, "It may go far in Violet's favor, I thank you very much for thinking of it."

"I thought of it long ago, Marcus, I always thought this day may come." The pastor handed Marcus a parchment, but held another in his hand also. "This is the record of the goods pirated and the funds distributed. I would have the King know where the profits went. Violet and the crew would only take a very small percentage. Some to pay their taxes, and keep the operation afloat, the rest all went to the widows and orphans. I would have the King know this too." Pastor Fielding handed Marcus these records also.

"I am obliged for the help and will see that the King knows." Marcus put a hand on the pastor's shoulder, "I am hoping there are no reprisals, or at the very least they be minimal, and will be counting on your prayers to this effect."