“I shall write often.” He squeezed her plump hand. His father’s only sister had never married. In her younger years, she’d devoted her life to caring for her father—Joseph’s grandfather—after he’d been injured in a hunting accident. At the time of his death, Aunt Pen had been considered a spinster, too old to find a suitable husband. Years later, after the death of her brother, she’d found a new cause in caring for Joseph.

In front of the wide veranda with its towering portico and the sprawling stone spreading out like an ancient palace, Aunt Pen appeared somewhat small, even dainty, although she was a stout woman.

“I thought for sure this time you’d be home for good,” Aunt Pen said again as she already had multiple times since he’d told her he’d accepted another ship’s surgeon position.

Joseph hadn’t known how to explain to the dear woman why he couldn’t stay. He couldn’t explain it to her any more than he’d been able to do so to Bates. At hearing the news, his friend’s eyes had been sad but not surprised.

Thankfully, Bates hadn’t asked him any more questions about what God wanted from him. And he hadn’t pressured Joseph any further about joining him as a partner at the dispensary. Instead, he’d clamped his shoulder and wished him the best.

If only his exchange with Aunt Pen had been as easy. She’d already reminded him that his father would have wanted him to stay, find a wife, and produce a Colville heir. She then went on to lecture him on the dangers of travel and the pernicious temptations awaiting him in foreign lands.

Now as he bent to kiss her cheek one last time, she gave a half sob. “I was hoping to spare you the rumors, but it cannot be helped.”

Joseph had half a mind to bound down the last few steps and jump into the coach before his aunt could say anything more. It was his training as a gentleman that held him firmly in place.

“At church yesterday, Lady Carlyle informed me that your ship, the Tynemouth, is being called a ‘bride ship.’” Aunt Pen dabbed at her eyes again.

A bride ship? Like the ships carrying young women that had been sent to Australia to help populate the colony? He’d heard tales about such women, that many had come from overcrowded prisons. Surely the Tynemouth was more civilized. “That’s nonsense,” Joseph said.