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Authors: MaryLu Tyndall
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Magnolia. She felt the same way about the Southern belle—as if she’d seen her before. But where?
“I don’t see why we have to go to silly old Brazil anyway,” Magnolia said, drawing her lips in a pout. “The South will eventually rise again, and all my friends are still in Roswell.” Her eyes moistened as she glanced over the dinner guests, searching for an ally.
A growl emanated from Mr. Scott’s direction.
Mrs. Scott bit her lip and laid a hand on her daughter’s. “Now, dear, you know your father spoke to you about this.”
“Brazil is the new Eden!” Mr. Dodd exclaimed. “A paradise waiting to be harvested.” He leaned forward, a sly look in his eyes. “With plenty of gold, I hear.”
“Gold, humph.” James smirked, causing Dodd to go on rather forcefully. “Pirate gold, my good doctor, pirate gold. You’ll see.”
“Gold or not,” the colonel interjected, “it is a land of freedom and new opportunities, and Lord knows, after what we have all endured, we need both.”
“Here, here!” Captain Barclay slouched back in his chair and sipped his wine, assessing his guests. His gaze landed on Angeline who was still toying with her food. “Where are you from, Miss Moore?”
“Norfolk, Captain. My father was the owner of several shipyards there.”
“Norfolk?” Mr. Dodd exclaimed. “Then that’s where I’ve seen you. I was born in that fair city.”
At his statement, some of the tightness seemed to leave Angeline’s body.
“But you said was , Miss Moore,” the captain pressed.
“Yes. He’s deceased.” She paused to collect herself.
The table grew silent for a moment. Not even the clink of a fork or the slosh of drink. Nothing but the rustle of the sea against the hull and the gentle creak of wood.
Eliza laid a hand on Angeline’s arm. “I’m sorry for your loss.” She wanted to ask her if his death was due to the war but thought it best not to dig any deeper into the lady’s sorrow, especially in front of the others.
“The dear man is in heaven now.” Parson Bailey offered the expected platitude.
The colonel finished his last bite of stew and set down his spoon. “I’m sure there is not a person at this table who has not lost someone close to them in this horrendous war.”
Nods of affirmation and vacant eyes attested to the truth of his statement. All except Dodd, who cleared his throat and poured himself another glass of Madeira.
“Ah, Mr. Dodd,” Captain Barclay said, “perhaps you knew Miss Moore’s father?”
“No, I do not seem to recall a shipwright named Moore. However, I left town when I was but eighteen to pursue my profession.”
“Which was?” Mrs. Scott asked.
“I was a sheriff in Richmond for several years.” His shoulders rose.
Angeline broke into a fit of coughing. Her face turned red, and Eliza grabbed her arm and patted her back. “Hurry, something to drink,” she said.
The carafe of wine was passed, and Eliza poured some into her friend’s glass and held it to her lips. “Here, take a sip.”
Magnolia licked her own lips and grabbed the carafe, filling her cup.
“What are you doing?” Mr. Scott snatched the glass from his daughter’s hand. “Ladies do not drink. It is most unbecoming. And, for God’s sake, sit up straight.”
The poor girl straightened her spine immediately, placed both hands in her lap, and stared straight ahead as if she were a soldier.
Their eyes met, and Eliza saw an emptiness in them before they flashed in recognition. So the young woman remembered Eliza as well. A lump formed in her throat, and she prayed silently that her association with Magnolia had only been in passing. Otherwise, if the lady knew who Eliza had married, this trip would be over before it started.
At least for Eliza.
C HAPTER 6
E liza was beyond exhausted. Many of the passengers had become seasick as the ship moved farther out to sea, and she’d done nothing but run back and forth from passenger to passenger, trying to ease
“I don’t see why we have to go to silly old Brazil anyway,” Magnolia said, drawing her lips in a pout. “The South will eventually rise again, and all my friends are still in Roswell.” Her eyes moistened as she glanced over the dinner guests, searching for an ally.
A growl emanated from Mr. Scott’s direction.
Mrs. Scott bit her lip and laid a hand on her daughter’s. “Now, dear, you know your father spoke to you about this.”
“Brazil is the new Eden!” Mr. Dodd exclaimed. “A paradise waiting to be harvested.” He leaned forward, a sly look in his eyes. “With plenty of gold, I hear.”
“Gold, humph.” James smirked, causing Dodd to go on rather forcefully. “Pirate gold, my good doctor, pirate gold. You’ll see.”
“Gold or not,” the colonel interjected, “it is a land of freedom and new opportunities, and Lord knows, after what we have all endured, we need both.”
“Here, here!” Captain Barclay slouched back in his chair and sipped his wine, assessing his guests. His gaze landed on Angeline who was still toying with her food. “Where are you from, Miss Moore?”
“Norfolk, Captain. My father was the owner of several shipyards there.”
“Norfolk?” Mr. Dodd exclaimed. “Then that’s where I’ve seen you. I was born in that fair city.”
At his statement, some of the tightness seemed to leave Angeline’s body.
“But you said was , Miss Moore,” the captain pressed.
“Yes. He’s deceased.” She paused to collect herself.
The table grew silent for a moment. Not even the clink of a fork or the slosh of drink. Nothing but the rustle of the sea against the hull and the gentle creak of wood.
Eliza laid a hand on Angeline’s arm. “I’m sorry for your loss.” She wanted to ask her if his death was due to the war but thought it best not to dig any deeper into the lady’s sorrow, especially in front of the others.
“The dear man is in heaven now.” Parson Bailey offered the expected platitude.
The colonel finished his last bite of stew and set down his spoon. “I’m sure there is not a person at this table who has not lost someone close to them in this horrendous war.”
Nods of affirmation and vacant eyes attested to the truth of his statement. All except Dodd, who cleared his throat and poured himself another glass of Madeira.
“Ah, Mr. Dodd,” Captain Barclay said, “perhaps you knew Miss Moore’s father?”
“No, I do not seem to recall a shipwright named Moore. However, I left town when I was but eighteen to pursue my profession.”
“Which was?” Mrs. Scott asked.
“I was a sheriff in Richmond for several years.” His shoulders rose.
Angeline broke into a fit of coughing. Her face turned red, and Eliza grabbed her arm and patted her back. “Hurry, something to drink,” she said.
The carafe of wine was passed, and Eliza poured some into her friend’s glass and held it to her lips. “Here, take a sip.”
Magnolia licked her own lips and grabbed the carafe, filling her cup.
“What are you doing?” Mr. Scott snatched the glass from his daughter’s hand. “Ladies do not drink. It is most unbecoming. And, for God’s sake, sit up straight.”
The poor girl straightened her spine immediately, placed both hands in her lap, and stared straight ahead as if she were a soldier.
Their eyes met, and Eliza saw an emptiness in them before they flashed in recognition. So the young woman remembered Eliza as well. A lump formed in her throat, and she prayed silently that her association with Magnolia had only been in passing. Otherwise, if the lady knew who Eliza had married, this trip would be over before it started.
At least for Eliza.
C HAPTER 6
E liza was beyond exhausted. Many of the passengers had become seasick as the ship moved farther out to sea, and she’d done nothing but run back and forth from passenger to passenger, trying to ease
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