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  “Oh please, I would prefer to stay on deck and I’m certain Molly would prefer it as well,” Elisabeth begged.

  “Then sit here in the stern to the starboard of the helm and we shall get under way.”

  Elisabeth sat where Shelley indicated, not far from where the poet stood at the helm. She then watched with interest as Earlywine and Sherbourne obeyed Shelley’s terse stream of orders. Once the jib was hoisted the sloop began to move slowly out toward the bay and after the mainsail was hoisted the little sloop began to gather speed. Elisabeth’s heart beat fast with anticipation as the sloop picked up even more speed and she lifted her face to the increasing breeze. But a short time later, as they gained even more speed, Elisabeth suddenly found that her arm, instead of resting on the side of the boat well above the water, was within inches of the water. Realizing that the wind in the sails was tipping the sloop to the point that the water was rushing by just below the rail Elisabeth looked up in some alarm, wondering if the sloop was about to tip over. Molly clung to the rail with white knuckles and gazed at her mistress in mute terror.

  “Do not fear, we shall not capsize,” Sherbourne reassured Elisabeth, noticing her alarm. “This is how a sailboat moves with the wind. “

  “Yes, and with this arrangement of the sails, for us to reach a point over there,” Shelley said, pointing to a spot across the bay, “we cannot go in a straight line but must zigzag. That is called tacking.” He looked up at the sails. “We will tack now and then you may move about the sloop until we tack again.

  “Ready about!” Shelley called a moment later.

  “Ready,” Earlywine and Sherbourne answered in unison, moving to the sheets on their respective sides of the sloop.

  “Hard alee!” Shelley shouted.

  Earlywine released his sheets and the sail shifted to the other side of the sloop as Sherbourne pulled the sheets taut on his side and cleated them in place as the sloop swung slowly in the other direction as the sails filled.

  “Trim those sails,” Shelley ordered and Sherbourne and Earlywine immediately made adjustments to the sheets of both sails.

  Impressed with Shelley’s new air of command, Elisabeth looked back at the poet as he stood at the helm. Showing his usual disdain for convention, Shelley had removed his coat and his frilled white shirt flapped loosely in the wind. With his long dark locks also blowing in the breeze, Elisabeth thought the poet looked rather piratical, and she marveled at the change from his usually soft-spoken though intense manner to one that was firm and supremely confident. Truly Shelley seemed in his natural element here upon the sea.

  “We shall keep this course for a while,” Shelley said, “and you may stand up and move about if you wish to do so, Miss Ashwood. Earlywine, would you like to take the helm?”

  “Aye-aye, Captain,” Earlywine agreed, going to the stern to take Shelley’s place at the tiller.

  “I think I shall go below for a short time,” Sherbourne said, suiting his action to his words at Shelley’s nod of agreement.

  “Miss Ashwood, would you care to come forward to the mainmast to see the view from there?” Shelley asked Elisabeth. “I promise you that you will be safe and it is time you moved about and tried your sea legs,” the poet coaxed, holding out his hand.

  “If you please, miss, I should prefer to stay seated,” Molly said in a small voice.

  “Of course, Molly,” Elisabeth replied, realizing the maid was frightened. “Perhaps you would feel better if you were to recline on the seat.”

  “Thank you, miss.” Molly took the hard cushion Earlywine held out to her and leaned back against it, closing her eyes.

  Elisabeth gamely stood up and took Shelley’s hand, feeling it was acceptable for her to do so under the circumstances since she did not wish to fall and was not accustomed to walking upon a pitching deck. Her initial steps upon the oaken deck were unsure as the yacht rolled first one way and then another, throwing her off balance, but as Shelley led her forward to the mainmast Elisabeth’s sense of balance accustomed itself to the rhythmical movement of the waves and she loosened her grip upon his fingers and ceased to stumble.

  “Only the view from the bow is better than the view from here, I believe,” Shelley said as he showed Elisabeth where to hold on to the mast. Elisabeth looked dubiously at the large mainsail billowing to port and started as the heavy boom creaked.

  “You are safe here at this time,” Shelley assured Elisabeth. “The boom will not swing this way. I often come to stand at the mainmast or bow and allow my mind to empty of all but the wind and sky and sea. Only do not come without my permission,” he added with his characteristic sweet smile, “for at times it can indeed be dangerous.”

  He pulled a chunk of his ever-present bread from his trouser pocket and tore off a piece, holding it out to Elisabeth. “It is good to eat some plain bread while you are at sea, Miss Ashwood, it will help keep you from becoming seasick.”

  Elisabeth took the bread, her fingers brushing his in the process. She felt her hand tingle at the touch and looked away over the bowsprit of the sloop, conscious of the power of the large wind-filled sails to her port. She munched on the dry bread as she stood in silence with Shelley, gazing out at the vast reaches of water that stretched beyond the cliffs edging the bay. Elisabeth turned slightly to starboard so she could not see the cliffs but only the sea. In an instant she seemed to be in another world, one composed only of the sight, sound, smell and taste of water, wind and sky. On impulse she untied and removed her bonnet, the better to feel the salt breeze, dangling it at her side as her soft brown curls teased loose from her pins and whipped about her face. She felt Shelley’s presence beside her and tuned to smile her pleasure.

  “You feel it too,” Shelley said softly, his intense gaze meeting hers. “You understand. I knew you were a kindred soul. You feel one with the sky and sea and long to sail out and soar across the vast oceans forever and never return.”

  “Yes,” Elisabeth agreed, for truly under the enchantment of the moment she desired nothing more. Suddenly Shelley bent forward and his lips were upon hers. It seemed utterly natural and somehow inevitable and Elisabeth melted into the embrace, her soft lips parting at the touch of the poet’s. For endless seconds the kiss seemed to join her soul with Shelley’s in an eternal spiritual yet physical union.

  Suddenly sloop’s bow plunged into a trough between waves and Shelley’s lips were separated from hers as he shifted to keep his balance. It was enough to allow common sense to dispel the mists of desire and Elisabeth pulled back, dropping her gaze to the deck as she felt the color mount to her cheeks. Shelley raised one long-fingered hand to brush a blowing curl from Elisabeth’s face and at the touch she looked up and their gazes locked. Joined in their mutual love of the sea, Elisabeth longed to lean against his tall form and feel the strength of his arms around her. She knew she would do whatever Shelley wished and in a flash of understanding realized how a woman could lose her reputation in one unguarded moment. Elisabeth drew back a step in involuntary alarm, glancing uneasily behind to the stern of the sloop. Molly still rested, eyes closed. Earlywine stood at the helm, although his attention was in another direction where ships were visible on the skyline. Sherbourne was not in sight and Elisabeth felt a wave of relief that he was still below.

  The spell broken, Elisabeth was shocked by her behavior, wondering how she could have allowed the poet to take such liberties. Yet at the same time she knew how easily one could succumb to the free spirit that was Shelley. Nor was she the only one, Elisabeth thought ruefully, remembering the words of Lord Sherbourne, Lady Parker and Mrs. Shelley herself. The rumors about the poet’s many conquests must be true. She must regain control of her senses and remain impervious to Shelley’s appeal. Her heart was Sherbourne’s and Shelley belonged to Mary, her friend. What a narrow escape she had had, and how fortunate it was that Sherbourne had not seen her as he came up from the cabin below.

  “I must have seafaring blood,” Elisabeth said lightly in an effor
t to return the mood to normalcy, “for the sea calls to me in a way I will not forget.”

  Shelley smiled and in his eyes Elisabeth read his knowledge of his both his effect upon her and her susceptibility to him. But he said only, “We must tack again before long, so please allow me to escort you back to your seat.”

  As Shelley helped Elisabeth back into the stern of the sloop Sherbourne came back on deck. “Have you any orders, Captain?” Sherbourne asked Shelley.

  “It is time to relieve Mr. Earlywine,” Shelley stated. “Would you like to take a turn at the tiller, Miss Ashwood?”

  “Oh, might I?” Elisabeth asked, all that had just passed between the poet and herself retreating to the back of her mind.

  “I think you might. Sherbourne, come and instruct Miss Ashwood on how to steer a sloop,” Shelley ordered.

  Agreeably, Sherbourne stood at Elisabeth’s side at the helm and explained how one pushed the tiller in the opposite direction one wished to go and that small adjustments made large corrections. But, although Lord Sherbourne was courteous to Elisabeth, she felt he seemed a bit more distant than he had been. Surely he could not have seen Shelley kiss her? Elisabeth asked herself fearfully, flushing in remembrance of her lapse. No, she decided, it must be her guilty conscience at what had passed between herself and the poet.

  That evening an exhausted but happy Elisabeth returned to the inn and was pleased to find Mary Shelley sitting with Lady Parker, quite recovered and the color back in cheeks.

  “I am happy to see you looking so well,” Elisabeth said, going to kiss her friend’s cheek. “I do hope you shall be able to go with us tomorrow.”

  “Yes, I hope I shall,” Mary agreed. “Did you enjoy your first experience of the sea and sailing?”

  “Excessively,” Elisabeth replied, willing herself not to blush as memories of a few minutes of that experience passed through her mind. “Although I do not think Molly enjoyed it very much. She appeared to suffer from the motion.”

  “I am sorry your maid felt ill. Perhaps it will not be necessary for her to go again tomorrow. But now we had best dress for our evening meal,” Lady Parker commented as the gentlemen entered the room. “Dinner has already been ordered.”

  Elisabeth and Lady Parker walked together upstairs to their chambers.

  “I am so sorry you missed going sailing today,” Elisabeth said to Lady Parker as they paused at the door of Elisabeth’s chamber. “It was truly a wonderful experience.”

  “We shall hope we may go with you tomorrow,” Lady Parker agreed, “although we also had a pleasant day. Mrs. Shelley recovered by noon and we spent the afternoon visiting shops and walking upon the sands.”

  “How do you find Mrs. Shelley?” Elisabeth asked tentatively.

  “I find her very interesting,” Lady Parker admitted. “Mrs. Shelley has a sweet nature combined with a sharp intelligence, and she is quite beautiful, of course. I quite understand her charm and appeal. But I still cannot fully approve the connection, for both she and Mr. Shelley have chosen to live outside polite society. Once you are married it is your husband’s place to guide your friendships but I am responsible for your reputation until the marriage has taken place. You are yet too young to be forgiven fast connections should they become known.”

  “No one will discover our friendship,” Elisabeth promised. “Lord Sherbourne has always been careful of our meeting places and our times in their company.”

  “I hope you have the right of it,” Lady Parker responded. “Now we had best hasten and dress or we will keep the others waiting for their dinner.”

  Chapter Nine

  “I must confess that sailing in such a small craft is most invigorating,” Lady Parker observed to Elisabeth as the Swallow moved swiftly through the waves their second day in Lyme. “It is quite different than taking passage upon an East Indiaman. One feels so very close to the elements.”

  “Yes, there is nothing to compare to it,” Mary Shelley concurred.

  Brisk breezes had greeted the sailing party on their second day out. To Elisabeth’s great relief, although Mrs. Shelley was again disturbed by a slight illness that morning, it was not great enough that it prevented her joining the others on the sloop. Elisabeth wished to avoid any occasions alone with Shelley and the presence of six persons on the small thirty-five-foot yacht ensured her wish would be granted. Molly, who did not wish to experience another day of seasickness, had chosen to remain behind.

  As she gazed out over the bay, Elisabeth could not credit how she had come to allow the poet to take such liberties the previous day. Yet at the time it had not felt so much a dalliance as a spiritual meeting of two like souls united in their love of the sea. How could she have so easily forgotten both Mary Shelley and Lord Sherbourne, she wondered? Truly the poet had an uncommon effect upon women. Even Lady Parker was not entirely immune, Elisabeth realized, noting abstractedly that Lord Sherbourne’s sister was watching Shelley with close attention as the poet stood at the helm. Once again the captaincy of the sloop had transformed the dreamy poet into an adventurer and a forceful figure of command.

  This second day Shelley steered the yacht farther out in the bay, allowing both Elisabeth and Lady Parker an opportunity to stand at the helm and issue commands, prompted by the poet. By the time they returned to their mooring at the Cobb everyone was quite tired out and they gladly retired to their respective rooms for a rest.

  After an hour’s slumber in their chamber Lady Parker and Elisabeth ventured downstairs to the main room of the inn, where they found Lord Sherbourne and Mr. Earlywine sharing a bottle of claret.

  “Since we find you gentlemen at your leisure,” Lady Parker said after greeting her brother and his friend, “we shall press you for your company for a walk about the town while Miss Ashwood and I explore the shops. Unless you have other arrangements with Mr. Shelley,” she added.

  “Mrs. Shelley is still recovering from the exertions of the day and Shelley is with her,” Lord Sherbourne elucidated. “But Earlywine and I shall accompany you and Miss Ashwood with great pleasure.”

  The shops along the narrow cobbled street displayed many interesting items and the two women were often tempted inside as they made their way down the main thoroughfare. Elisabeth had a delightful time purchasing several interesting fossils and other items as gifts for her family and her friend, Jane Fairacre. She was debating whether to purchase a particularly fine but dear ammonite for her brother in one shop when a well-dressed woman who had entered the shop a few minutes previously looked their direction.

  “Lady Parker, what a pleasure to see you here,” the woman said, walking up to Sherbourne’s sister. “Miss Ashwood, good day. I see you are inspecting the fossils. This shop has the finest specimens. I highly recommend it.”

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Fortescue, and thank you for your advice,” Elisabeth replied politely.

  “It is indeed a pleasure to encounter you, Mrs. Fortescue,” Lady Parker added, although Elisabeth saw a flash of apprehension cross the older woman’s face and knew the encounter was not a welcome one. “Do you holiday here in Lyme with your daughters?”

  “Yes, they are quite set upon searching the cliffs for ‘tests’ although why they are interested in what I am told are fossilized sea creatures I am do not fully understand,” Mrs. Fortescue replied, breaking off as Lord Sherbourne and Mr. Earlywine, who had tarried outside to speak to a fisherman for a moment, entered the shop.

  “Mrs. Fortescue,” Lord Sherbourne said with a bow, “what a pleasure to meet you here in Lyme.”

  “Lord Sherbourne, Mr. Earlywine,” Mrs. Fortescue acknowledged with a speculative gleam in her eye. “Perhaps our parties might join for an excursion to the cliffs on the morrow? I know Susan and Judith would be delighted to have Miss Ashwood’s company,” she finished, although her glance went to the gentlemen and not Elisabeth as she proffered the invitation.

  “It would indeed be delightful but I am afraid we are to leave in the morning,” Lady Parker respon
ded. “We are only searching for a few last gifts to take home. I wish Miss Fortescue and Miss Judith Fortescue much success in their fossil search.”

  After a few more polite exchanges Mrs. Fortescue departed. Elisabeth paid for her selections and the four companions walked slowly up the street toward their inn. Lady Parker, who had been unusually silent since the meeting with Mrs. Fortescue, suddenly gave vent to her feelings in tones of suppressed agitation.

  “I knew it was not well-considered to come here to Lyme for this excursion, Richard! What a narrow escape we had—suppose the Shelleys had been with us! It would have been Miss Ashwood’s ruin!”

  “But they were not and Miss Ashwood’s reputation is intact, Charlotte,” her brother assured her. “We shall be leaving in the morning and we shall not be traveling with the Shelleys. You need not fear our being discovered.”

  “Suppose Mrs. Fortescue and her family should come to our inn for dinner while we are dining with the Shelleys tonight?” Lady Parker fretted. “We are not as safe as you imply. I shall not rest again until we are on the road back to London.”

  “I am certain the Fortescues would stay at an inn closer to the cliffs, Lady Parker,” James said reassuringly. “That is what my sisters and I did we came to fossil hunt.”

  “Perhaps that is the most likely,” Lady Parker agreed but her worried expression did not leave her countenance until long after their dinner was over and she and Elisabeth had retired safely to their chamber without the Fortescues entering the inn.

  The journey back to London passed uneventfully. The five travelers, worn out from the unaccustomed exertions of their expedition, spoke little. Elisabeth covertly watched Lord Sherbourne during the journey home, trying to divine by his facial expressions and rare words whether he had seen the kiss between Shelley and herself. But try as she might she could tell nothing. The viscount spoke less than he had their trip down but no one else spoke much either and Lord Sherbourne’s quieter demeanor might have been as much from the rigors of their excursion as displeasure with her. Certainly he was unfailingly courteous to her the few times they did speak. Overall, Elisabeth decided as the miles passed, she was rather more reassured than not, for surely if the viscount had seen her embrace with the poet he could not have been so unruffled in manner, given his anger toward her after the visit to Hampstead, where Shelley had only touched a lock of her hair. Had he seen the kiss no doubt he would have been even more angered.