A Pansy for Eleanor, Part 2

Liverpool, England

November 1876

The docks were alive with movement, the salty air thick with the mingling scents of damp wood, tar, and the promise of open sea. The ships, their masts cutting against the storm-colored sky, rocked gently in the harbor as sailors loaded cargo and passengers hurried to board before departure. Among them, Henry guided Eleanor through the bustling crowd, his grip on her gloved hand firm.

"Keep your head down," he murmured, glancing over his shoulder. "We cannot afford to be seen."

Eleanor’s heart pounded against the stiff bodice of her traveling gown. She had packed her finer clothes for a coarser cloak, hoping to conceal her identity, but it could not hide the tension in her posture, the urgency in her steps.

They had to board the Aurora before it was too late.

"You are certain the captain will honor your bribe?" she whispered, her breath visible in the cold air.

Henry’s jaw tightened. "He will. I got his brother out of a scrape.” He didn’t say more and Eleanor, too nervous, didn’t press. She felt everyone was looking at her although that wasn’t true.

He had paid a hefty sum to secure passage to New York aboard the Aurora, a steamship bound for the Americas that would leave within the hour. It was their only chance. If they missed this vessel, there would be no escaping Lord Rutledge’s grasp. To say the last two weeks had been tense was an understatement.

A sharp gust of wind blew in from the sea, sending Eleanor’s hood slipping from her dark curls. She shivered, but not from the cold. Somewhere behind them, amidst the shouts of merchants and the creak of rigging, she imagined she could hear the rhythmic clatter of hooves against cobblestone—the sound of pursuit.

Henry tugged her closer, lowering his voice. "We’re nearly there."

A row of dockworkers moved aside, revealing the looming shape of the Aurora. Smoke curled from its great black smokestacks, and a ramp led passengers onto the deck, where a steward checked tickets. Henry reached into his coat pocket, fingers brushing over the small but weighty envelope that contained their forged travel documents.

"Steady now," he murmured.

Eleanor forced a breath into her lungs and lifted her chin. She had defied an entire life of expectation to stand here, on the edge of an uncertain future. Fear had no place now.

They ascended the ramp, the wooden planks creaking beneath their hurried steps. The steward, an older man with a trimmed beard and sharp eyes, took Henry’s ticket first.

"Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan Hale?" he asked, scrutinizing the documents.

"Yes," Henry said smoothly. "Newly wed. Off to seek our fortune in America."

The steward’s eyes flickered between them, his gaze lingering on Eleanor’s delicate features. A breathless moment passed.

Then, he nodded. "Welcome aboard."

Relief flooded Eleanor’s limbs as they stepped onto the ship’s deck. But the moment was fleeting. A sudden commotion behind them sent a chill through her bones.

"Stop them!"

The voice was unmistakable.

Lord Rutledge.

Eleanor turned in horror to see him at the docks, his dark coat billowing behind him, his face twisted in fury. Several dockworkers stepped aside as he shoved past, flanked by two men who looked ready to drag her away by force.

"There!" Rutledge pointed an accusing finger at Henry. "That man has kidnapped Lady Eleanor Ashcombe! Detain them at once!"

The steward stiffened but let them pass. Eleanor knew he must be in on the bribe, and she gave him a look of thanks. Other passengers turned to watch as Henry’s fingers tightened around Eleanor’s wrist.

"Walk as if nothing is wrong," he commanded.

That was harder than Eleanor imagined, but Henry led her down the narrow deck. A ship’s officer, startled by the sudden commotion, reached for them, but Henry dodged him easily, and Eleanor saw the steward shake his head. The officer stopped his pursuit. But behind them, Eleanor could hear Rutledge’s men trying to force their way up the ramp.

A horn blasted. The Aurora was preparing to depart.

"We won’t make it to the cabins," Henry said breathlessly. "Stay close and hold on."

He veered sharply, pulling her toward the ship’s railing. Eleanor barely had time to catch herself before the ship lurched, groaning to life, sending tremors through the deck.

"They’re closing the ramp!" someone shouted.

Henry turned, his face grim as he watched two of Rutledge’s men attempt to leap onto the deck—only for the ship’s crew to shove them back.

One of them nearly made it, his boot catching the edge of the ship. For a breathless second, Eleanor thought they would be seized and dragged back to England.

Then the man lost his grip with the help of the steward, tumbling back onto the deck below. The gangway was pulled away, and the Aurora drifted into the harbor.

The last thing Eleanor saw was Lord Rutledge, stranded on the dock, his face pale with rage as he watched the ship—and his betrothed—slip beyond his grasp.

She clutched Henry’s arm, her breath ragged, her chest rising and falling with the force of their escape.

"We did it," she whispered.

Henry exhaled, his own pulse still racing.

"Yes," he murmured, pulling her close. "We’re free."

And as the wind carried them toward the horizon, Eleanor knew there was no turning back.

Remember to come back next Thursday for Part 3!