Marrying Christopher by Michele Paige Holmes

you had best hurry and answer my question, or I shall be left curious in the event Miss Cosgrove returns. Do you leave family behind?”
    “No one,” Marsali said, letting out a happy breath. Her aunt and uncle didn’t qualify. She held her arms open wide. “This ship is my passage to freedom.”
    “I thought… are you not making the voyage under indenture?” The concern in Mr. Thatcher’s voice touched her.
    As if I might have already forgotten I will owe four years for these four weeks of freedom. “I am,” Marsali said. “My sister, Charlotte, arranged the indenture for me. She and her husband traveled to America four years ago. I have been waiting to join them ever since, and finally I am going. A Mr. Joshua Thomas has paid for my voyage, and in return I am to be his daughter’s lady’s maid for a period of four years.”
    “That seems a rather hefty price for one crossing.”
    Marsali shrugged. “It was the best Charlotte could find. Oft it is five to seven years that are required. Do not feel pity for me,” she said, noting Mr. Thatcher’s solemn look. “I am quite happy with the arrangement. Being a lady’s maid will be far better than serving at my aunt and uncle’s home.”
    “Your own relatives treated you as a servant?” His brows drew together, and his lips turned down even more.
    “ Servant is perhaps a generosity when describing how they treated me, but let’s not speak of that.” She forced a smile. “It is behind me, and my sister will be waiting at the end of my journey. The plantation I am to serve at in Virginia is not so very far from her, and I have hope that we shall be able to visit fairly often. As Miss Cosgrove so perfectly expressed at breakfast, I am very fortunate.”
    “As am I,” Mr. Thatcher agreed, and Marsali felt relief that the subject of her background was— hopefully— safely behind them.
    “But you are leaving your sisters behind, not going to them,” she said, feeling far more concern over his situation than her own. She finally dared ask what she’d wished to earlier, hoping that if he did not wish to speak of it he would simply tell her. “Were you displeased with their choices, with the men they married?”
    “Heavens, no,” Mr. Thatcher exclaimed. “I spent a great deal of the previous year working to see them wed to such fine men. It was a love match for both, and I couldn’t be more pleased.”
    “Yet you are leaving them,” Marsali said. “And feeling sad for it.”
    He turned back to the rail, leaning his elbows upon it, and glanced at her sideways. “You are too astute, I see. I shall have to be wary of you.”
    “I am sorry,” Marsali rushed to apologize. “I did not mean to pry.”
    “And I did not mean to sound so harsh.” He placed a hand over hers on the rail for a brief second, then pulled away. “No harm done,” he assured. “I have been rather surprised by my own melancholy. I have wanted to go to America for so many years now, have dreamed of it and planned for this day. But it seems I did not consider how difficult it would be to part with my family.”
    “Your parents remain in England as well?” Marsali asked, then bit her lip as she realized she’d pried yet again.
    “My parents are both dead,” Mr. Thatcher said. “My mother died when I was quite young— I do not remember her, truth be told. And my father died last year— at no loss to my sisters and myself. He was not a good man. It is perhaps because of him that I feel compelled to leave England. I want to begin anew in a place where Thatcher is not a name that precedes itself in a poor light.”
    “You have begun well, then,” Marsali said, glancing at the hand he had touched. “For when I think of the name Thatcher, forevermore it will bring to mind a kind, generous man.”

After her pleasant visit with Mr. Thatcher, Marsali strolled about the deck, careful to stay out of the way of the men readying the ship to leave port. Captain Gower seemed to be