The Maiden's Voyage

William was silent for some time. He went to the French doors that led to the room's balcony. He opened them and stood, looking out into the pale, dry sunshine. The noise of the busy streets below drifted into the dark, cool room. "I was coming to bring you your passage," he said finally, his back to her. "But somehow I fear you won't need it."

Miranda stood up and went over to him. She put her hand on his arm. "Of course I'll need it, Will. Did you think I'd changed my mind?"

William turned and looked at her. His features looked dark and heavy, and there was hurt in his eyes. "I want you to be certain, Miranda," he said. "Before I become so attached to you there's no going back, ever." He grasped her shoulders. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you," he said. "I know that we have something rare and beautiful. But I can't force you to know it." He dropped his hands and turned back to the open doors. "I won't force you to go with me," he said. "You've had enough force in your life."

William stood there for a few moments before he turned and began putting his belongings together, stuffing them into his satchel.

Miranda grew frantic when she realized he was about to leave. "Where are you going?" she asked, flying over to him and grasping his arm. "Are you leaving me?"

William stopped and took her hand. He squeezed it gently. "No," he answered softly. "I'm not leaving you. I'm going to stay on the Guinevere tonight. She leaves at midday tomorrow."

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the tickets he had been waving in the courtyard. He handed one of them to Miranda. "This is yours," he said. "You need to take some time and think. I'll know what you want by the time the gangplank is drawn up."

"William, please," Miranda said. She tried to hold William's arm so he wouldn't leave. But he gently pulled away. He stopped and leaned over to kiss her head. "Let love win, Miranda," he said. Then he was gone.

Miranda sank down on the bed, feeling all her strength drain from her. She felt ashamed and horrible that she had not been able to stand up to Mrs. Ellsworth and tell her the truth. "This is the man I love, Madam," she should have said. "Not your cousin!" She began to sob. Her guilt toward her parents and toward Sir Edward gnawed at her. But also inside her was the love in her heart for William. The joy she felt in his presence. The passion they shared that came out in their delicious, sweet lovemaking.

For hours, Miranda sat on the bed, staring out the open French doors, feeling the potent mixture of emotions inside her, searching deep in her heart for the ability to cut the knot that bound her to her parents. She was their daughter on one hand. But, she realized, she was also a woman in her own right. A grown woman, with a woman's heart and body. Her mother and father would not be in her marriage bed with her and Sir Edward. They would not be feeling her emotions or sharing her body with that man for her.

As dusk fell, Miranda rose from the bed and began to pace back and forth in front of the open doors. The sky darkened into many shades of rose and purple, and she stopped to admire the beauty of the creation. Sadly, she wished William were standing next to her, his arm around her shoulders as they watched the sunset together.

Suddenly, unbidden, an image of a young girl hovered in Miranda's imagination. The girl was beautiful, with flowing hair the color of William's hair, and sweet blue eyes full of trust and hope. Miranda felt her heart beat warmly in her chest at the vision of this pretty young woman who, she imagined, could be the daughter she'd have one day. As she watched, however, the girl's expression changed to one of deep sadness. Her blue eyes looked saturated with hurt and sorrow. Miranda recognized her expression as having been caused by betrayal and cruelty at the hands of another, of someone who'd used her for their own gain without any care for her own well-being. "Oh no!" she cried out softly when she realized the precious girl was an image of herself and that she had looked on that image as her own daughter. The horror she felt over seeing her daughter's soul destroyed was the same horror she felt at the way her own parents would see her destroyed. Miranda felt her heart break open, and she covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

Miranda did not know how long she had cried. But when her sobbing had eased, she wiped her eyes, feeling cleansed and renewed. Her path became clear. She ran to her trunks and pulled out the few dresses and pairs of stockings she had planned in her mind to bring with her to Scotland, and stuffed them into her new satchel. She wished she had room for Charlotte's books, thinking how much fun it would be for her and William to read them together. But there simply wasn't enough space in the satchel. She sighed while she looked at them, but then smiled as she was swept up in her purpose.

She went to the writing desk and penned her letter to Sir Edward, explaining her feelings to him then closed the French doors, picked up her satchel and cloak and slipped from the room. She went to Mrs. Ellsworth's room and told the astonished woman what she was doing. She apologized for having disturbed her so late in the evening and left, dropping her letter for Sir Edward at the front desk for delivery to Ceylon. The only thing left to do was to order a carriage to take her to the shipyard.

In the shipyard, the driver left Miranda off in front of where the Guinevere was docked. She paid him and went swiftly to the gangplank, which stood open until the ship set sail the next day. With her heart fluttering in her chest, Miranda looked for someone who could tell her where William was. She had missed him in the few hours they were apart, and never wanted such a separation again. She did not want to spend a single night away from him. She never wanted him to have reason again to doubt her love.

She didn't need to look far, for when she reached the top of the gangway, William was there, waiting for her, his hand outstretched to her. Tears came into her eyes as she took his hand, squeezing it firmly and possessively.

"I was standing on the deck," he said, his voice full of joy. "I saw you pull up in the carriage."

Miranda brought his hand to her lips and held it there, ecstatic to be touching him again. She shuddered inwardly at the thought that she might have lost him forever. Finally, she looked up at him. "Please forgive me, Will. I was being foolish."

William squeezed her hand. "There's nothing to forgive, love," he said. "Come now. I think only of having you in my bed."

They smiled at each other as Miranda put her arm through William's, pressing her body to his, more closely with each step they made. William took the satchel from Miranda's other hand, leaning over for a brief but sweet kiss as he led her to their cabin.