Victorian Dream Read Online Free PDF Page A

months. Captain Garrison was even more handsome than she had envisioned. Broad shouldered and oh so tall, he eclipsed her expectations and transcended all musings, the effect kindling unexpected physical sensations.
    “It’s a pleasure to meet the both of you,” he said, with a fleeting smile.
    His teeth flashed white in marked contrast to his tanned skin, and the crow’s feet deepened at the corners of his eyes—heavenly blue eyes, tinted with enough gray to save them from childlike innocence.
    “Are Phillip and Ophelia with you?” Aunt Abigail asked, glancing around him toward the door to the room.”
    “No, I’ve come on ahead without them,” he answered, with seeming reluctance.
    When the man remained hesitant to move or speak, a spark of alarm flared inside of Trelayne. Something was amiss. Scenes from her nightmare roared through her mind, blocking out all other thought. Reaching for the arm of the settee, she eased down onto the seat, fighting to remain calm, forcing herself to breath slowly and deeply.
    Without seeking permission, Captain Garrison folded himself into a nearby chair.
    “Why aren’t they with you?” she asked, dreading the answer.
    “There’s been an accident on the wharf in New Bedford,” he began.
    Then he told all, and Trelayne was lost to a world of disbelief.
    Sympathy and sadness shown in his eyes, but nothing stemmed the heartfelt pain and fear rushing at her from all sides. Her hideous dream had come true after all. As the horror of his words clawed their way through the initial shock, the distinct possibility of fainting dead away seemed imminent. Overpowering darkness engulfed her, and even the sunlight streaming in offered no comfort. Rather than gaining warmth from the light, she felt as if she were melting into oblivion. Aunt Abigail slipped an arm across her shoulders, and they leaned against one another.
    She swallowed hard, wanting only to run screaming to her room. But this was no time for panic or female swooning. She recalled the day her brother had fallen off the postern gate. Branwell had broken his leg in the worst way. Mother had paled for a moment, staunched the bleeding, tied pillows around his leg, and rode with him in the back of the supply wagon all the way to the town surgeon. That was the kind of courage needed now.
    She gained her feet. “I must go to them,” she announced, hands clenched in determination, “immediately.”
    Captain Garrison leapt from his chair, his taller stature especially apparent as he stood before her. “You most certainly will not,” he ordered
    “But they are alone in a strange country. They need me. Don’t you see?”
    “They are under the care of an extremely worthy physician, one I would trust with my own life. And what they need most, Miss Trelayne, is to know you are safe.”
    He grasped her upper arms, and gently urged her back down upon the settee.
    “During your father’s one lucid moment, he bade me promise to do whatever it took to keep you safe. I’ll not break that promise, which means I’ll not allow you to go running off to America. I have left instructions to establish ongoing communications. Every seven days, one of my crew will book passage to London carrying written information from the doctor, and hopefully from your parents. Soon we shall have weekly updates regarding their condition and anything discovered regarding the incident. By return ship, we can send them your personal notes and the confirmation of your safety.”
    She supposed that sounded logical, but knowing they were suffering and so far away was pure torture. Good Lord, what if they grew worse, what if they died? And how could she take this man at his word, or trust the arrangements he’d made when he’d allow her parents to be in injured in the first place?
    “Dr. Robson assures me they will recover,” he prompted, “but it will be a lengthy process. He’s a good man, well educated and forward thinking. I’ve also hired