The Shadow of Albion Read Online Free PDF Page A

chilly brine, and Sarah was jerked rudely
    back to reality. The pain of past and present tragedy blended into one miserable
    ache, and she scrubbed ruthlessly at her eyes with the mangled handkerchief.
     
    „Miss Cunningham?“ The voice at her elbow was low, in deference to her loss.
    „The Captain sends his respects, and says they are ready to read out the service
    now.“
     
    „The Lord have mercy on this His servant, Missus Alecto Kennet of London,
    who sleeps now in expectation of the Glorious Resurrection to come – “ Captain
     

 
    Challoner’s deep voice intoned the rote words of comfort and promise.
     
    Sarah Cunningham stood in the forefront of the small company of mourners
    gathered around the slender, sailcloth-wrapped bundle awaiting its final disposition
    and tried not to feel terror at the thought of her future. At last the brief service was
    over and the chain-weighted bundle was tipped over the side, to vanish in the Lady
    Brights wake. Mrs. Kennet had been the agency by whose aid Sarah had come this
    far; to lose her to a sudden fatal fever only days before reaching her goal was a cruel
    blow. Now Sarah was alone once more, this time thousands of miles from the only
    home she had ever known.
     
    „Miss Cunningham? Are you all right?“ Once again Sarah was summoned back to
    the present, this time by Captain Challoner.
     
    She smiled sadly, hoping her face showed the appropriate emotion for the
    occasion. Among the Cree, it was considered the height of rudeness to wear your
    feelings plainly upon your face, forcing everyone you passed to share them. Joy and
    sorrow alike were private things.
     
    But the Cree and her freedom were both long-lost to her, and she must make the
    best of her fate.
     
    „The loss of your companion grieves us all deeply,“ Captain Challoner told Sarah
    dutifully. „Mrs. Kennet was a gallant lady and her passing is a sad thing.“
     
    „You have been very kind, Captain Challoner,“ Sarah said, wondering where this
    conversation might be leading.
     
    „I should not like to think you any more bereft than you must now be, and so I
    hope you will forgive my inquisitiveness, Miss Cunningham, if I ask you what
    provision has been made for you once we dock?“
     
    „Provision?“ Sarah echoed blankly, while a carefully tutored part of her reminded
    her that she sailed to England, the Old World, where even what circumspect mobility
    she had been permitted in the last few months of her residence in Baltimore was
    considered wanton freedom. In England no young lady of gentle breeding went
    anywhere alone; constantly accompanied by maid, chaperone, or family member,
    she was watched every moment until the time came to award her in marriage to some
    privileged scion of entitlement and perquisite, when matronhood would confer upon
    her very little more freedom than she had enjoyed as an unmarried girl.
     
    „You were traveling with Mrs. Kennet, were you not? Who will accompany you
    now?“ the Captain pursued, a note of worried concern in his voice.
     
    „I shall – I am being met; pray excuse me,“ Sarah said quickly. Before Captain
    Challoner could stop her, she pulled her cloak tightly around her and fled to the
    solitude of her tiny cabin.
     
    * * *
     
     
    Fool – lackwit – cloudhead – Sarah berated herself in the strongest language she
    knew, standing trembling in the center of the tiny accommodation she had shared
     

 
    with her benefactress. Captain Challoner was honesdy concerned for her welfare –
    there was no cause to flee him as if he were an entire English press-gang in himself!
     
    Only his concern would mew her up with companions and chaperones, and in
    providing so much help he would certainly be entithed to the whole of her story –
    and Sarah, who now faced the sickening certainty that she had crossed the ocean
    with no more incentive than a bag of moonshine, could not bear the thought of
    making the Captain a present of her