Dear Reader,

I recently revisited and revised a Regency romance short story I wrote many years ago. As a small token of my gratitude to you, my fans and followers, I am delighted to share the complete piece (of approx. 1200 words) with you below. I hope you enjoy this tale of love, loss, and long-awaited reunion.

When Ship Bells Ring

A Regency Romance Short Story of Love and Reunion

by Donna Hatch

Ship bells rang across the harbor, heralding the ship’s arrival. His ship. Lily hugged her basket. Dare she go? He had written less and less frequently, and had finally stopped. They had been scarcely more than children when they made those adult promises. Perhaps his love for her had faded. Shading her eyes, she watched the ship glide into port, stately and proud.

“Are you going?” Aunt Ruthie asked.

Lily turned from temptation. “He knows where I may be found.”

Aunt Ruthie pushed back a wayward strand of grey hair. “He’ll find you faster if you meet him at the dock.”

Lily brushed past Aunt Ruthie and stepped into the inn’s dim interior. As she set the basket on the kitchen table, she caught sight of her hands—work-worn, with calluses and broken nails. She frowned at her faded, patched gown, a poignant reminder of her reduced fortune. At least she had her beloved aunt.

“Lily.” Aunt Ruthie put her hands on her hips.

“He may not wish to see me, certainly not as I am….” Quietly, Lily added, “Perhaps not at all.”

“Hmmph! He may have thought of little but you.”

Lily’s darkest fear slipped out. “He may find himself obliged rather than inclined. I could not bear that.”

“Then you’ll know at once and no more worrying about it. Even if he does wed you out of obligation, you’ll still have a home of your own and a husband.”

A home of her own with an obligated husband bound by a seven-year-old promise? Or worse—pity? No. She preferred rejection.

“You wouldn’t have to work for your living,” her aunt said.

Lily snatched a hapless turnip and began peeling it as if it offended her. “’Tis a poor reason to marry.”

“Better than toiling here from morning till night.”

The regret in Aunt Ruthie’s voice pulled Lily from her vegetable abuse. “I want to help you, Aunt, and you know it. I wish to earn my keep. Besides, I shall receive my dowry when I turn twenty-five and need not rely upon marriage. I will have the means to purchase a new oven for you.”

“No, you’ll buy that cottage by the cliff and live like the lady you were born to be.” Aunt Ruthie emptied the basket. “The vegetables look better today than at last market day.”

Lily breathed a sigh of relief at the change in topic and threw herself into meal preparation. Hungry customers would soon crowd the inn.

Her gaze strayed out the window to the ship at the dock. Perhaps he stopped writing because he never received her last few letters. He may not know she now lived with her aunt.

More likely, his sentiments had altered, and he had not found the words to tell her. The ship’s sails sagged, as though the wind had abandoned them.

Grinding her teeth, Lily pounded bread dough on the floured board. She would not run to the dock like a lovesick schoolgirl and force him to either fulfill his promise or to declare that they would no longer suit.

Besides, a lady never approached a man; she waited for him. Not that this was a ballroom. She hadn’t worn a ball gown or dancing slippers in two years.

The first loaf of bread came out of the oven, filling the inn with a welcoming aroma just as two men entered wearing faded striped shirts and carrying sea bags.

“Don’t let your pride get in the way, child.” Aunt Ruthie’s voice cut into Lily’s thoughts. “Go to him.”

Lily gestured to the dining room. “I can’t leave you. You’ll soon have a room full of customers.”

“People come for my cooking; they’ll wait a few minutes longer. Go.”

Go. Did she dare?

Lily pictured him completing his duties as an officer and disembarking. Would he look for her? Notice her absence? Be relieved not to find reminders of promises he might wish undone?

Disappointed that she had not welcomed him home?

She pictured him standing alone on the dock, searching for her while around him, fellow officers and sailors ran to the arms of mothers or sweethearts. Her heart squeezed.

Yes. She dared.

Practically tearing off her apron, she dashed to the dock. A lively crowd waited as sailors disembarked. Some ran into welcoming embraces with tears and laughter. Other sailors strode down the dock alone. The stream of men slowed, and the crowd thinned.

Then, a solitary form appeared. The uniform of an officer graced his lean, broad-shouldered build. With one hand balancing the bag on his shoulder, he took a step forward. He turned his head slowly as if searching. For her?

Lily moved nearer, shading her eyes. Before her change in circumstances, she would have worn a stylish bonnet, gloves, a pelisse and would have come with a chaperone. On second thought, she would have waited in the parlor like a lady. Today, she was an impoverished orphan who worked at an inn and greeted sailors at the dock. Her courage faltered. She could slip away now before he noticed her.

Sunlight danced in his dark, closely cropped hair and illuminated his face. His features had grown more angular, his shoulders broader. A scar bisected his chin, and another crossed his jaw. But his face, that handsome face that had first drawn her notice long ago, belonged to him. He was home!

A quiet anticipation stirred within her.

His gaze traveled over her. It passed on without recognition.

Cold spread through her. She stood frozen, though every instinct urged her to flee.

His gaze returned and fixed on her. He stared. He moistened his lips, those lips that had touched hers so long ago.

“Lily?” He dropped his seabag with a thud.

Lily clasped together trembling hands and smiled cautiously. “I am here.”

The color drained from his face. “You came.” His mouth worked, and expressions that defied description crossed his face.

Her stomach dropped, and her hope with it. “You…aren’t happy to see me.”

Wearing a look of…sorrow? apology?… he took a halting step forward. His Adam’s apple bobbed against his neckcloth. “You are even more beautiful than I remember.”

Of course. He sought a graceful means of release.

“Pray forgive me; I fear I have placed you in a most uncomfortable situation,” she managed, barely above a whisper. “It appears I presumed too much.” She tried to keep her tears in check, but his face, the ship, and the sky ran together in a soft, indistinct haze.

“Lily.” His agonized groan cut the air. “My regard for you has not diminished, and your loss of family status and fortune changes nothing.”

She hugged herself, hardly daring to believe. Cautiously, she said, “My regard for you is unchanged, as well.”

“Thoughts of you sustained me.” He moved forward with that same halting step, one arm hanging limply at his side. “But I am not the man you knew.”

In a rush of clarity, it came to her. The scars, the limp, the arm. “You were injured.”

He looked down a moment before he raised a tortured gaze. “I do not blame you if you no longer wish to marry me.”

“You must know I could never wish otherwise!” She launched herself at him.

He caught her and held her tightly with one arm. She sank against him, nuzzling his neck. He smelled of sea breeze and something achingly, wonderfully familiar. His shoulders shook as he buried his face into her hair.

“Welcome home.”

Beyond them, ship bells rang.

THE END

I hope you enjoyed this Regency romance short story. If you love historical romance, reunion stories, and tales of enduring love, I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.

If you enjoy Regency-era romance and historical details, you may also enjoy exploring the collections at Jane Austen’s House or the maritime history resources from the National Maritime Museum.