THE GOLDEN ROSE

Chapter 18 - All The Love Inside

Saint-Domingue, Hispaniola – 1771

"Senhor and Senhora Cabello, welcome aboard. I'm sorry, the accommodations are rather limited, but we have little call for taking passengers."

Captain Luigi Marcantonio was a handsome man who hadn't let losing one arm below the elbow deduct from with his imposing personality.

"I'm sure it will be just fine," Sebastaio said with a smile. "Your first mate said you will be calling in at Marseilles. That is where we would prefer to disembark."

"Of course, si, si." He smiled, showing his gold tooth. "Come, I will take you to your cabin myself."

The Salacia was a newer ship than the Maria Terese, and fitted out luxuriously. The captain continually apologised on their way to the cabin they had booked, for it's small size and simple appointments.

"It was the one made to be used by the owner when he travels with us, and he doesn't like anything too ostentatious."

Clara stood with her mouth agape in the centre of the cabin. It was more than double the size of their one on the Maria Terese, with a huge four poster bed piled high with cushions, a plush settee and dressing table, and a hip bath.

"I hope it will do," Captain Marcantonio said obsequiously.

"Yes, thank you," Sebastaio said faintly. When the door closed behind them Clara spun around with her mouth open.

"Is that GOLD trim?" she asked in awe.

"I think so," Sebastaio chuckled. It was going to be a comfortable trip after all.

***

Clara stood on the dock in Marseille, glad to finally be on terra firma. She was watching Sebastaio supervise the unloading of their trunks, especially the one that contained the rose, off the ship and onto the carriage. They were heading to Lisbon via Barcelona and Madrid, disguised as visitors from New Spain. Spain and Portugal was still technically at war and it was best not to draw any attention.

The carriage he had hired with driver and footman completed the first leg of the trip, arriving into Barcelona late in the evening. They found an acceptable inn almost immediately and after eating they retired to the room to sleep.

Clara felt like her body had been shaken from top to bottom. Who would have thought she would be longing for the gentle rocking of the sea and their luxurious cabin on board the Salacia. Sebastaio had her lock the door while he went to fetch hot water and soap, returning soon so she could wash. As she did so, he undressed, bringing her up to date at the same time.

"I sent a message ahead to let my family know we are on our way."

"Oh. What did you say about me?"

"I explained I was bringing home my bride," he smiled. Well, they would have time to get used to the idea, she thought, that had to be a good thing."

They made leisurely love before they slept, but in the night she woke up feeling ill and crampy. It was time for her monthlies, so she slid from the bed to fetch a rag to use to keep herself clean. Sebastaio stirred and she told him she was fine but she went and sat at the window and looked out at the city, dark in the cloudy moonless night. The streets were empty but as the moon drifted out from behind the clouds for just a moment she took in a deep breath and pulled away. It had been so fleeting but she was sure that the man standing down there looking up at the inn was the Maria Terese's surgeon, Baudelaire. Why would he be in Barcelona?

She slid back into bed, her heart racing. Perhaps she was still sleepy and had imagined it? She hoped that was the case but she could not get the picture out of her mind, and deep down she knew it was real.