On Desperate Seas
It all started with Penelope. Or perhaps really it was Jane, for it was Jane’s letter that sent me on the first leg of my improbable journey:
“Dearest Edgar,
Please come at once. Our beloved Penelope has fallen deathly ill.”
The letter went on, of course. In typical Jane fashion, she filled a page and a half with the various inadequacies of Dr. Mansley. Only Jane would argue the science at length without ever once considering I might not wish to abandon my own medical practice to return to Newfoundland for the sake of the woman who had broken our betrothal without warning to marry another.
And yet here I was, at their very door.
Jacob answered my knock. His look of shocked surprise told me that Jane had written to me without his knowledge. But the shock quickly melt
