Chapter 6

The night proved to be long and tortuous.

Sally took on a persona that Elizabeth hardly recognized. She grew more and more abrasive and bold with every return from the ravishing of their detestable captors.

When they were first placed in the tiny, smelly room, it went without saying that Elizabeth would be the occupant of the single lumpy cot in their tiny box-like environment. Other than a worn looking wooden table and two dangerously rickety chairs, it was all the furnishings provided.  Sally made a bed on the pile of rags and hay tossed on the floor in the corner. Since Sally never experienced sleeping arrangements even remotely as comfortable while in the service of the Jameson estate, she was content with the arrangement.

That night Sally laid claim to the cot, suggesting Elizabeth start getting accustomed to living in the style of a slave and be thankful that there was at least some softness beneath her. Elizabeth recognized the truth in Sally’ words. Her thoughts went to the young girl curled up in the cupboard beneath the stairs when she arrived at the Jameson estate on the morning that altered her fate forever.

Since Sally was much taller and stronger than Elizabeth, there was nothing for Elizabeth to do but submit herself to the degradation of being tossed from bed to floor.

It was actually the least of her worries. The news of Captain Kline’s vile lie and plans for the sale of her person at a slave auction weighed heavy on her mind.

She could not fathom how Dr. Jameson could abandon her like this. It made no sense to her. Was it not she who funded his trip to the emancipated colonies? Was it not she who signed a significant portion of her trust over to him for their care while traveling and settling down? How could he repay her for her kindness and generosity in such a manner? Where was he now? Was he off enjoying her money as a free man while she was being sold into slavery? She simply could not believe the friend of her father to be a coward and a thief, but it appeared he was.

Elizabeth wiped a tear that was trickling slowly down her cheek. How foolish she was to have run away from Stephen. How silly of her to fantasize about marrying for love. More than once Stephen proclaimed his love for her while in her bed, but she refused to listen.  She chose to believe his words a product of the alcohol he enjoyed imbibing his mind with instead of the truth of his heart. So convinced was she that her love was one sided, she never gave him a chance to prove his love outside of the bedroom. She left far too soon to give their marriage a chance. Maybe he did really love her as she loved him. If so, she would never know. He was lost to her by her own foolish actions.

She shuddered as she remembered bits and pieces of the horrors of Captain Kline’s sweaty, smelly body crushing hers while he violated her. The clean scent of Stephen and his tender, overwhelmingly arousing ministries were stark in comparison.

Although her husband was zealous in his desire to possess her fully, he was never vile or cruel, not even on their wedding night. Her initial viewpoint of their nights together was the viewpoint of a naïve virgin who lacked the female guidance afforded most ladies of her station. Had she known then what she knew now, she would have realized that her new husband was stating truth about doing his best not to hurt her while he struggled to keep bridled his lust for the beautiful young wife who made him wild with desire. After all, the nights following were certainly pleasurable. or would have been had she not been tortured by her duty to be silent and still.

Elizabeth was furious with herself. A husband desiring his wife was a rarity among the socially elite. How foolish she was to have treated it so lightly. If she could do things over, she would have stayed and gotten to know her virile and handsome husband. From her conversations with Sally, she discovered the feelings she felt for him were truly those of love. She was not mistaken in this. She never discussed her feelings with another woman before. She had no validation that what she felt was real until now. If she had it to do all over again she would have stayed and nurtured her relationship with Stephen in hopes that he would grow to love her as she loved him. She would have never run away.

She slid her hand over her stomach. Their voyage kept them at sea for two and a half months, the majority of which her head was hanging over the side of the ship’s rails or over a chamber pot wrenching up the contents of her stomach. She and Sally were imprisoned in this locked, box-like room for several weeks now and yet she continued to wretch and vomit, particularly upon rising. Sally was worldlier in the ways of the female body.  She examined Elizabeth’s breasts and still flat stomach closely before proclaiming that her mistress was with child.

Since the captain’s violation of her person was only a few weeks ago and Sally stabbed him before he satisfied his lust, there was no guessing who the father was. She was carrying the heir that her father-in-law, the Duke of Eastwick, so badly desired. She was carrying Stephen’s child.

Her trunks never found their way to her. Needless to say, she assumed her belongings were sold or given to some of the sordid women whose hawking their wares permeated the night as a trinket of appreciation for some sexual favor or the like. She was without clean clothes or toiletries and there was no mirror to be found. It was probably for the best. She was certain she made a frightful sight. Even so, she would have liked to inspect herself. Was she showing signs of wear and fatigue from all she endured? Was she looking worn and haggard? Did her eyes still have that brilliant glow that consistently won over the hearts of so many or were they hollow and lackluster like her companions? They say that a woman with child radiated a special glow. Was she radiating? She just did not know.

Elizabeth longed for the opportunity to clean up. Her teeth were coated with a foul tasting film and her body odor offended her at times to the point of nausea. The itching that tormented her was a strong indication she was bit sleeping in the lumpy cot. Soon she would be covered with sores and some type of disease would more than likely consume her. She heaved an enormous sigh. It was probably the lesser of the evils that was about to occur.

The women spent their days wearing only their shifts and light linen skirts in an attempt to avoid being overcome by the heat. Elizabeth stood in the light that poured through the small window by complements of the full moon. She looked down and sighed at the filth and stains that coated her once pristine attire. Its lace trim fell away in several places and would soon be off completely.

The coolness of the night was slowly replacing the incessant stifling heat from the impact of the afternoon sun, making it a little easier for Elizabeth to relax and fall asleep. She stole a glance at the silhouette of her cell mate’s body as she sprawled comfortably on the cot Elizabeth once claimed and emitted an indignant humph. After pounding at the hay in an attempt to make it just a little fluffier, Elizabeth arranged the rags as best she could and sunk down onto them. Sally was right. She was grateful to at least have some type of padding beneath her. The truth be known, the hay was actually more comfortable than the cot and probably housed fewer critters.

She closed her eyes and allowed herself to remember her younger days at their country estate. Her mother and father had taken them on a picnic. Her scamp of a younger brother, Herald, was trying to coax her into the icy cold lake, knowing full well she would freeze, but he was too young to realize the possible repercussions of such freezing. It was all in good fun and there was plenty of laughter.

Elizabeth’s bond with her brother was so strong she never even thought to be jealous over how he commanded and received the love from her uncle that she so desperately longed for. She missed Herald. She missed his rich sense of humor and zest for life. She never considered the fact that her escape from her imagined bondage with Stephen would also separate her from Herald. That fact never even entered her mind. The fact that she did not have a chance to tell him she was leaving and say good-bye filled her with sorrowful remorse.

It seemed like Elizabeth only just fell asleep when the thud of the door being thrown open and slamming into the thick, salt-weathered wooden wall roused her.

“Wake up, me beauties,” chortled an old sailor as he pulled a dented tin wash tub that saw better days into the room. “’Tis time ta wash up!”

Elizabeth had grown so accustomed to the appearance of her motley looking captors that she barely noticed the old sailor’s decayed and partially toothless grin and matted bristly whiskers. Even the accentuated stench of his unwashed body, as a sudden breeze found its way through the door, did not assault her like it used to. Her focus was on something that represented a reprieve from the horrendous existence she was forced to endure these past weeks. This grizzly old sailor brought in a bath! It did not matter what he looked or smelled like right now. To her he was the most wonderful person in the world.

The old sailor finished placing the severely dented and slightly misshapen tub in the center of the room and shot a look toward the cot where Sally sat, indignantly watching him.  His eyes found Elizabeth kneeling in the corner of the room on the pile of hay.

“Ya are ta ‘elp the lady wash up. D’ya ‘ere?” he growled at Sally. “You’ll do it right, girl, if ya know what be good fer ya.”

Two skinny, scraggly men, who Elizabeth noted could surely benefit from a bath themselves, followed the gruff sailor into the room. Their hands were laden with buckets of steaming water. Shortly afterward a third sailor arrived with a small trunk containing Elizabeth’s toiletries. This was just too good to be true.

Sally waited for the men to close the door behind them before leaping off the cot.

“Wow. A bath! I never...” she squealed as she stripped her night shift off and eased her naked body down into the steaming tub.

Elizabeth, who was not accustomed to seeing another person totally naked -least of all a servant-  reddened and turned her head. Unfortunately, it was not before she witnessed the clear water cloud from the caked blood and soil that quickly washed off Sally’ scarred and battered body.

“That bath was intended for me. He told you that,” Elizabeth grumbled.

“I did not hear him tell me that’,” Sally replied saucily. “I heard him tell me that I needed to help you clean up. And I shall just as soon as I have finished with me own wash up,” she chuckled from deep within her throat.

Elizabeth was livid. The water was a light brown from the filth of her former maid’s body. Even though she was well aware of the circumstances that caused their current filthy conditions, she was certain the woman had not experienced a true bath in at least a year; if ever.

 A gasp of horror escaped the forlorn aristocrat’s pursed lips at the sight of tiny dead bugs floating in the surface scum. There was absolutely no way she would allow one drop of that water to touch her body. If her captors wanted her clean, then they would just have to provide a fresh bath.

Had Sally not become such a belligerent shrew, Elizabeth might have felt compassion for the woman’s present state and condition. As it was, she felt only revulsion and contempt.

Although the faint knock at the door alerted Elizabeth to back into the corner, it went unnoticed by her bath engrossed companion. Sally’s surprise at being caught in the act of stealing her former mistress’s fresh, steaming bath water was apparent when she found herself looking into Captain Kline’s angry, beady eyes.

“Wha’ the bloody ‘ell is going on ‘ere?” the captain roared. “Who the ‘ell told you to filthy up the tub with your bugs an’ scum, wench?”

The captain’s face was almost purple with rage as he glowered at Sally while she struggled to shrink as best she could from his sight. He stood in an openly indignant stance with his hands placed firmly on his hips while he waited for the frightened young woman’s response. When she did nothing more than whimper, he emitted a roar that resembled that of a wild animal and kicked his heavy boot against the tub with such a force he caused the tub to topple onto its side. Thus adding another dent to its well cratered walls.

The loud thud of Sally’ body as she hit the roughhewn planked flooring mixed with the gushing of the filthy water that quickly spread across the room. Sally’ cry of indignation blended with Elizabeth’s screech of dismay while she watched the filthy, bug infested water flood her makeshift bedding. Her dream of a new life in the United States became a living nightmare.

“I ‘ave a right to clean me own body more than that of a darky” Sally wailed.

“Ya ‘ave only the right ta spread your legs until we ar’ through with ya, wench. Nothin’ more!” the captain spat with disgust. His eyes slowly searched the room until they settled on Elizabeth’s small frame. She shriveled under his lustful drool, wishing herself invisible. “An’,” he chuckled, “we both know she ain’t no darky.”

“She ain’t?” Sally bolted upward in surprise, negligent of the fact that she was standing naked in the presence of a man.

The captain twisted his head back in Sally’ direction as if he forgot she was in the room. Seemingly unmoved by the sight of her nakedness, he roared, “I’ll be orderin’ fresh water fer the lady an’ I ‘ad better not ‘ear tha’ ya did not take care of your mistress proper. Do ya ‘ear me, wench?”

“Yes, sir,” Sally moaned from the safety of the corner of the room where she retreated to almost immediately after feeling the wrath of the captain’s foot.

It did not go unnoticed by the two women that the captain realigned their stations in life.

As the captain started out the door, Elizabeth found the courage and strength to step forward and speak, even if it was only above a whisper.

“Captain Kline, please wait,” she said.

Startled by her request, the grizzly sea dog stopped in his tracks and waited for her to find her voice again. Struggling with her emotions, it took Elizabeth a little longer than she would have liked to manipulate the question past her lips. The captain seemed only too happy to wait, since it provided him time to devour her slowly with his eyes.

“If you know that I am not a darky, then pray tell why are you telling people that I am?” Elizabeth was finally able to ask.

“’Tis business, milady, just business,” the captain replied in a light hearted manner as he flashed a wicked grin and continued out the door.

“Then ‘tis true,” Elizabeth mumbled, more to herself than anyone else, “I am to be sold at auction as a darky”

“Aye milady,” the captain’s muffled voice floated through the closed door, “’Tis indeed true.”

The shock of the reality of what was about to occur was so intense, Elizabeth’s body shook until her legs were no longer sturdy enough to hold her and she crumbled to the floor.