Prologue Prologue September 16, 1862 The solitude of the upper deck was perfect for me. I suspected that many people on board the ship were having trouble sleeping this night, but unlike me, they sought comfort from their fellow travellers. I didn''t want to trouble the others with my fears; they had their own to come to terms with. From the time the captain had sounded the horn to signal our entry into British-held territory, excitement and anxiety had run high. Some chose to toast the news with glasses of champagne, while others huddled in small groups, their heads bent close together in murmured conversation. Tomorrow we would dock in Victoria on the northwest coast of North America, about as far away from my home as I could imagine. Like pebbles tossed upon the beach, we would scatter, trying to make our way as best we could. Most of us would marry; some would not.
All of us hoped for a better life than we could ever have found in England. As Charles Dickens once described us, we were the deserving unmarried--unemployed factory workers, Lancashire cotton mill labourers, orphans, the destitute. And a few, like me, were impoverished gentlewomen, unable to prevail upon our male relatives to support us for the rest of our days. To the best of my knowledge though, I was the only one who had been forced to flee England as a social outcast. At the age of twenty-one I was about to start my life over. It is said that we are born alone and we die alone. And that certainly described me now. When I set foot on the foreign shore, I would have no loved ones to support me and no money to help me find my way.
But I also would not have the same strict rules dictated by Victorian society, the rules that had been my downfall. I had been told that the colonies offer women more opportunity. Despite the staggering uncertainty now before me, I couldn''t wait to taste freedom. Chapter One Chapter One "One look at you tonight and George won''t stand a chance. Not that he ever did, once it was decided that he was the one for you. But this evening, you''ll dazzle him, seduce him, make him beg for your hand." It was an order, not a compliment. My sister, Harriet, leaned closer to me as we sat side by side at her dressing table.
I could smell her sweet breath and a hint of lilac water coming from her long, elegant neck. "And what a relief you''ve put on a proper corset for a change," she half whispered in my ear. I tugged absentmindedly at the wretched garment, looking forward to the end of the evening when I would gleefully fling it into my bureau, where I expected it would remain for some time. It had been agreed that I needed to wear a full whalebone corset only when I was in proper society, which was thankfully not a daily event for me. "Tonight you''ll get George alone, allow him to steal a kiss or two, light a bit of fire in him. Give him a taste of what he can expect in married life." "I think I would stir more passion if I talked about duck hunting," I said. "Maybe I should rub rendered duck fat behind my ears.
That might stoke the flame a little." Harriet flushed. "This is serious, Charlotte! George Chalmers is a brilliant match for you. He''s your third suitor, and there''s not exactly a line forming behind him." "Not fair," I said, holding up an index finger to make my point. "Alfred doesn''t count. He must be fifty if he''s a day and he''s more interested in a nurse than a wife. Surely I have the right to pick a man who offers me a little romance, some excitement even.
And we both agreed Reginald isn''t a real contender--he rarely leaves his mother''s side. Thirty years old and he still makes faces at children during church service." "You can''t afford to be choosy," she said. "If it weren''t for Papa''s troubles, you would have had a decent dowry and plenty of prospects. But now we have to be realistic." Hari''s abigail drifted silently into the room carrying the black-lacquered jewellery box that housed Hari''s newly polished earrings and brooches. Setting it on the dressing table, she bobbed a curtsey before busying herself with the white cambric day dress that had been tossed on the four-poster bed. I flipped open the box lid and began rummaging through, looking for the perfect jewelled pin for the bodice of my gown.
Picking up the box, I wandered over to the window for better light. In a low voice Harriet muttered, "Time is running out." I looked up to see Hari twisting her string of pearls into a ball around her neck. "Time?" I echoed. Hari turned from the mirror and peered at me, the bright light from the window making her eyes water. "It''s just that, after I pushed him to find someone, Charles went to great lengths. If this doesn''t work out, I can''t keep asking him to help you. George is the best of the lot.
" But that''s not saying much , I thought. It was a pretty narrow field, and Charles didn''t dig very deeply. I wasn''t really surprised. Harriet''s husband, the Honourable Charles Baldwin, MP, was much more interested in politics than finding a good marriage match for me. "That will do, Jane." Hari waved dismissively at her abigail, then waited until she left the room to speak again. "There are more complications." "What?" "It''s his uncle Lord Ainsley.
He told Charles that he''s ready to declare him his heir and to pass on his seat in the House of Lords to him. So Charles wants to be very careful not to attract gossip of any kind. Nothing that could affect Lord Ainsley''s decision." "What does that have to do with me?" I wanted to ask why everything had to revolve around Charles and his ambition, but I didn''t. Hari let out a sigh. "Women of a certain age need to be properly married with children or settled in a suitable position for a spinster--a governess, for example." I shivered at the thought of being a governess and the exhausting boredom it entailed. I wanted something more exciting.
Someday I would marry, of course, but I was just twenty-one. Surely I had time to make a match. Harriet was twenty-five and had only wedded three years ago. She and Charles hadn''t even started their own family yet. I knew that unmarried women attracted gossip--that while seldom true was always malicious--but I doubted people had much of anything to say about me, certainly nothing that would influence Charles''s aspirations negatively. "But George?" I wondered aloud. "You should be pleased," Hari said. "Many women would consider George a prime catch.
He''s just been appointed chief whip, an enormously powerful position. Everyone in Charles''s circle fawns over him. He can make or destroy a parliamentarian''s career with just a word to the prime minister." I flopped back on the bed. "I grant you that George seems an attractive-enough fellow in a balding, middle-aged sort of way. Just the sort of very respectable husband women yearn for. But I don''t know if we would be happy together. I''m not even sure I''m ready to marry.
" "I''ve just said you have no other option!" Harriet cried. The sudden sharpness in her voice startled me, and I sat up. "What do you mean? What''s wrong, Harriet?" "I''m sorry." She came towards me and took one of my hands in her own. "But I do worry about you sometimes, Charlotte. One hears such dreadful tales. You remember Mildred Winthrope? Really quite a lovely little thing, wellborn but certainly poor. By her third season she still hadn''t found a husband and was forced to beg from relatives.
She died last winter. Caught a cold, and in her weakened state she was gone in a fortnight." Hari dropped my hand. "They had to bury her in a pauper''s grave!" I couldn''t help but laugh. "Do I look like I''m about to fade away from lack of nutrition? If George doesn''t make me an offer, I have another thought." It was hardly formed, if I was being honest, but Harriet seemed to think that this marriage was my last chance for a good life, and I wanted to reassure her. The intense setting sun emerged from behind a tall tree, sending an unforgiving light through the three west-facing windows. Was it a sign? Harriet leaned towards me, brows raised.
"Don''t tell me someone else is dangling after you. Someone wealthy? Connected? You are full of surprises. Do tell." "No, nothing like that. It''s something else entirely." I''d seen an advertisement posted in the broadsheets for a new veterinary program just yesterday and it had piqued my interest. I had always loved animals, whether it was barn cats, hunting dogs, or the majestic racehorses my father bred. As a girl, I spent my daylight hours tramping around our estate.
Mama was always so preoccupied with making social connections, going to parties, and working to find the right match for Harriet, I don''t think she noticed, or if she did, she let it go. When our estate was in arrears and we''d had to let most of the help go, I tried to keep the animals and livestock in good condition until they were sold, but we''d had to get in Dr. Boyd, a veterinary surgeon, to tend to the racehorses, one of whom was pregnant. Harriet had seen the work as beneath me, but in truth, I''d enjoyed it. I gave Harriet''s hand a gentle squeeze. "I had a thought about applying to the inaugural veterinary apprenticeship course." Harriet dropped my hand as the vein in her temple began to throb. People often assumed that a beautiful woman would have a sweet temperament to match her angelic looks, but that was rarely true.
"Do not for one moment thin.