Petals on the River

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  The twins had hair as black as the mane of the younger man, and it was he, rather than her twin, to whom Garland bore a striking resemblance. The pair had eyes as golden and translucent as polished amber.

  “My younger brother, Ruark,” Nathanial announced, clapping a large hand upon that one’s shoulder.

  “Your servant, Madam Thornton.” Ruark flashed a dazzling display of white teeth in a wide grin before he swept a gallant bow before Shemaine. “Your beauty bears more than a wee trace of the Irish colleens I’ve seen on that verdant isle, madam.”

  The green eyes sparkled back at him. “And you, sir, must have been blessed with the Irish way for your tongue to be so glib.”

  Ruark threw back his head and laughed in pure delight. “I do have a fondness for the Irish, to be sure.”

  “Then I’ll warrant you have excellent taste, sir,” Shemaine rejoined, drawing amused chuckles from the men.

  Gabrielle came forward with a teasing gleam in her eyes. “I think I’d better warn you about my brother, Mrs. Thornton. He seems resolved to remain unfettered despite his advancing years. Yet he treats every winsome maid that comes within proximity as if she were the only one who could steal his heart away. In truth, he’ll steal your heart if he can.”

  “For shame, you little gosling,” Ruark chided his sister with a chuckle. “You judge me freely enough, but may I point out that you’ve now reached a score of years and have not yet found a mate whom you deem suitable.”

  “No need for your warning, Mistress Beauchamp,” Shemaine responded, slipping an arm around her husband’s narrow waist as he pulled her close. “My heart has already been taken.”

  “You’re safe then. That’s good!” Gabrielle tossed a teasingly triumphant smirk toward her handsome brother, who, in good humor, lifted a finger of warning toward her as if silently threatening her with dire consequences. She tossed her head with coquettish disregard of his silent admonition and then gave a sudden squeal and danced away as he stepped forward menacingly. “I’ll tell Mama if you hurt me again!”

  Shaking her head as she observed her gamboling kin, Garland approached Shemaine. “As you’ve probably noticed, madam, I’m the only sane one in the family,” she claimed, drawing dissenting hoots from her grinning brothers. Snubbing them, she lifted her fine, straight nose to a lofty angle, but her golden eyes were aglow with merriment as she turned back to Shemaine. “Please call me Garland, Mrs. Thornton, and I shall also give you leave to address my sister by her given name”—she tossed a teasing glance toward Gabrielle as if to shame her—“since she lacked the manners to do so herself.”

  “And I shall be honored if you’d call me Shemaine.”

  Strolling forward, Gabrielle shrugged her slender shoulders, totally unrepentant. “Garland thinks she’s far more dignified and mentally astute than the rest of her family. True, she was more attentive to the lectures of our tutors than I was ever wont to be. But I have other names that suit her better . . . Boring, Conceited, Priggish. . . .”

  A muted groan came from the one being defamed, and like her brother, Garland advanced upon her twin as if to take her revenge, drawing a soft cackle of glee from Gabrielle. Wagging her head like a child who took great delight in taunting her playmates, the impish sister danced lightly away.

  “Girls, behave yourselves,” Charlotte implored, throwing up her hands in disbelief. “What will these good people think of us? No good, I trow.”

  Gage chuckled, thoroughly entranced with the family. “On the contrary, madam. They make me realize what I’ve missed by being an only child.”

  “We’re a rather undisciplined brood,” Nathanial admitted drolly. “We also have another brother who hasn’t reached a full score years yet. He had a friend visiting and preferred to stay at home and do all the things with him that lads his age are wont to do. When last I saw them, they were flirting with the neighbor’s girls.” Nathanial’s eyes gleamed with enthusiasm as he allowed his gaze to flit around the deck. “I’m growing anxious to see this beauty of a ship you’ve built, sir.”

  Accepting his statement as her cue, Shemaine faced the three women. “Shall we go to the cabin, ladies? My husband and I have other guests I’d like you to meet.”

  They all heartily agreed.

  Maurice du Mercer had earlier retreated to that particular haven, but when Shemaine entered, leading the other three ladies into the parlor, he rose from the chair where he had been watching the foursome play whist. He was certainly thankful to have a more enchanting diversion than the card game, but he had not expected it in multiple numbers. He was first introduced to Charlotte and then to Gabrielle, who asked him so many questions in a flurry of breathless haste that he found it difficult to answer her and stare at her sister at the same time. Garland had paused to admire the furnishings, but when Shemaine brought her forward to make them acquainted, he found himself staring into darkly lashed amber eyes.

  “Garland, this is a family friend, the Marquess du Mercer,” Shemaine said. “Your lordship, this is Mistress Garland Beauchamp—”

  “Maurice will be sufficient,” he said, sweeping Garland a courtly bow.

  The young woman dipped into a shallow curtsy. “And if you would, my lord, my name is Garland.” A smile flitted across her lips. “Mistress makes me sound so . . . so unbelievably spinsterish.”

  “A very young and beautiful spinster, to be sure,” Maurice murmured warmly.

  Gabrielle mentally sighed, realizing it would do her little good to monopolize the Marquess with witty conversation. A blind woman could see that he was taken with her twin. Long ago it had become evident to her that when the right people came together, it usually took something akin to an ax to drive them apart. It certainly seemed to be the case in this instance, although Garland graciously maintained a nice favorable reserve that bordered interestingly upon aloofness. Gabrielle promptly decided she needed to take close note of the lessons her sister was presently demonstrating, for she had never yet enchanted a suitor with her own gift for incessant gab.

  A valiant loser, Gabrielle made one more inquiry for the benefit of her sibling. “And is there a Marchioness, your lordship?”

  “Beyond a grandmother, I’m without wife, kith or kin,” Maurice answered, glancing meaningfully toward Shemaine, whose resulting blush lent him a small measure of satisfaction.

  Gabrielle set a finger aside her mouth and pondered his reply. “I wonder how I might fare as an only child. There’s five siblings in the Beauchamp family, and with Garland as my twin, we’ve had to share everything . . . or else. . . .”

  Maurice was careful to remain silent, for he wasn’t at all sure but what Gabrielle was suggesting that they would have to share him, too.

  “Dear, we’ll need more chairs,” Camille informed her daughter. “Do you have others available?”

  “Of course, Mama,” Shemaine replied, and would have bade Nola to fetch a pair from upstairs, but the sight of Bess trying to catch her eye from the kitchen made her excuse herself immediately and go to solve the cook’s dilemma over the kind of sauce that she should make for the venison.

  “I’ll get the chairs,” the Marquess offered in gentlemanly manner, having seen several on the front porch.

  The cards had been put aside earlier, and the ladies’ hats were doffed as the chairs were brought in. As he placed a chair behind Garland, Maurice failed to notice that it was rather wobbly, for he seemed incapable of taking his eyes off the nape of her neck, where the black hair was coiled in an intricate knot. Beneath the mass, her skin was fair and lustrous.

  Garland was just settling into the chair when the seat came free of the back and the whole of it collapsed, throwing her backward. Astonished gasps equaled gaping stares, but Maurice’s reflexes had been fine-tuned to react spontaneously to whatever crisis demanded his attention. Dipping forward with arms extended, he caught the falling maiden and was instantly rewarded with a tantalizingly delicate essence, a sweet blend of lilac and soap that wafted upward throu
gh his head like spring wine. As her head hit his chest, he caught a glimpse of softly rounded breasts swathed in mauve fabric and cascading tiers of an ecru lace jabot tumbling from the collar of her fitted bodice before his arms encircled her narrow waist.

  “Gracious!” Garland gasped, amazed by how wonderfully secure his arms felt around her.

  Maurice lifted her to her feet again and leaned over her shoulder to solicitously inquire, “Are you all right?”

  Garland glanced around to meet those shining black eyes and felt a sudden gush of excitement sweep through her. She had always considered her brother too handsome to have a serious challenger in the area of good looks, but she would now have to revise her thinking. “Oh, certainly, your lordship,” she hastened to assure the Marquess nervously. “I was just startled, that’s all.”

  “Maurice,” he reminded her in a whisper.

  The couple finally became cognizant of the fact that the other occupants of the room had fallen silent and were watching them. A vivid hue darkened Garland’s cheeks, but Maurice was well acquainted with being closely observed and took their close attention in stride as he bent to pick up the chair.

  “I say, Shemaine, for a cabinetmaker, your husband leaves much to be desired.” It was a sharp prod he used, but Maurice wanted to make it vividly clear to his former betrothed that the man to whom she had given herself was not without flaws.

  Shemaine bristled in swift defense of her husband. “The fault lies with me, your lordship,” she replied stiltedly. “I should have paid more heed to the fact that the chair you brought in from the porch was one that had been left here for him to repair. It was not one Gage made, by any means.” She swept her hand about to indicate the furnishings filling the rooms and proudly boasted, “This is the kind of furniture he makes.”

  Suddenly a frightened wail came from outside, startling Shemaine, who readily recognized Andrew’s cry. Anxiously she brushed past Garland and Maurice and rushed out onto the porch. Andrew was running full tilt toward the cabin, having left Gillian some distance behind. Shemaine hastened down the steps and ran across the yard toward the boy, who threw himself up into her open arms as if a pack of vicious hounds were nipping at his heels. Sobbing as she lifted him up, he hid his face against her shoulder and refused to look elsewhere. Gillian finally reached them, clearly out of breath.

  “What happened?” Shemaine demanded. “What frightened him?”

  “Cain,” Gillian gasped, panting. “The hunchback was hunkered down in a rotten tree trunk, an’ so well hidden I ne’er saw him, but Andy did.”

  Shemaine remembered the pitiful creature whom she had befriended. She had considered Cain harmless and was alert to the fact that she might have been wrong. “Did Cain hurt him?”

  “Nay, ‘twas only fright what sent Andy flyin’ back here.”

  Relieved, Shemaine clasped the shivering boy close to her. When she saw Gage racing toward them, she called out with a laugh, “It’s all right. Andy was just frightened.”

  When Gage joined them, Gillian was forced to recount everything that he had said to Shemaine, but his employer made further inquiries. “Did you ask Cain what he was doing in the woods?”

  Gillian nodded. “That’s what delayed me. He’s hard ta understand, ta be sure, Cap’n, but as far as I was able ta make out, he was watchin’ over yer missus.”

  “Watching over Shemaine?” Gage frowned in bewilderment and exchanged a bemused glance with his wife before he looked back at the younger man. “Did Cain say why?”

  “Aye, he said somethin’ ’bout Potts an’ others . . . wantin’ ta do her harm.”

  “Others? Did you question him about them . . . who they might be?”

  “I tried, Cap’n, but he refused ta answer. He just wiggled out o’ his cubby, dragged his mule from hidin’ an’ left.” Gillian paused, shaking his head in amazement. “Cap’n, ye should’ve seen what he’d gone an’ built. I’ve no ken when he might’ve done it, but he made a paddock with stout sticks for his mule an’ then piled some brush ’round the barrier so’s the animal wouldn’t be seen. It looked so natural, I ne’er gave it heed though I was standin’ just a few paces away. The way it looked ta me, he meant ta stay out there for some time an’ wasn’t wantin’ anybody who might’ve come inta the woods ta see him . . . includin’ the lot o’ us.”

  “I wonder if he’s been the one we’ve been searching for all this time,” Gage muttered half to himself.

  “Don’t know, Cap’n,” Gillian answered. “But it were plain ta me that he had ta have been out there for some time ta do ev’erythin’ he’d done.”

  Gage frowned in confusion. “But how would Cain have stopped Potts if he had shown up?”

  Gillian readily supplied the answer. “I was fifty or so paces off when Andy started screamin’, an’ I ran back ta see what had scared him so. That’s when I noticed Cain hunkered down in a hollowed-out ol’ tree trunk. He’d pulled a green branch in front o’ it an’ was hidin’ there as still as a mouse until he realized I’d seen him. When he pushed the branch aside, I noticed right off he had a rusty flintlock across his lap. It gave me a start, ’cause I didn’t know whether or not he’d be o’ a mind ta use it on us. Ta be sure, Cap’n, the pistol looked so old, it might’ve blown up in his face if he’d fired it. I’m thinkin’ he was plannin’ on usin’ it on Potts.”

  Gage took his sniffling son from his wife. Shemaine had dried Andrew’s eyes and wiped his nose, but Gage could still feel the boy quaking against him. The tiny arms crept around his neck and held on resolutely, at least until Shemaine rubbed a hand soothingly over the boy’s back. Then Andrew lifted his head and peered at her with a quivering grin.

  “You little rascal,” she teased, ruffling his hair as she tried to ease his trauma. “You nearly frightened the wits out of me.”

  “I’ll take him back to the ship with me,” Gage murmured.

  “Gil’an,” Andy called, looking around for the young man.

  Gillian stepped to where the boy could see him. “Right here, Andy.”

  “We goin’ ta Daddee’s ship now. You comin’?”

  Gillian chuckled. “I guess I’d better. Pa’ll be wonderin’ where I lit ta.”

  Shemaine watched them until they began ascending the building slip, then she turned and, espying everybody who had been in the cabin now watching from the porch, she went to join them.

  William was the most concerned, and questioned her as she drew near. “What happened; Shemaine?”

  “Nothing serious, my lord. Andrew was just frightened, that’s all. There’s a badly deformed man living somewhere between here and Newportes Newes. Andy saw him in the woods, and you know how afraid he is of strangers. Well, he’s absolutely terrified of Cain—”

  “Cain?” her mother repeated. “What a strange name.”

  “I agree, Mama, but if you were to see the poor man, you’d be able to understand how appropriate the name is.”

  “Has he made himself a nuisance?” Maurice inquired.

  “Nay, not at all,” Shemaine replied, noticing that her former betrothed had elected to stand beside Garland at the edge of the porch. The two truly made a handsome couple, and she hoped that more would come from this, their first meeting, and that Edith du Mercer might come to consider the girl a fit mate for her grandson. “In fact, if Gillian understood him correctly, he was watching over me.”

  Camille was immediately apprehensive and clasped a shaking hand to her throat. “Why would he be doing such a thing? Does he suspect that you’ll be harmed by someone?”

  Shemaine knew whom her mother immediately considered the culprit and tried to seem unconcerned as she shrugged. “There was a sailor aboard the London Pride who threatened to kill me—”

  “Is he still here?” Shemus interrupted, sharing his wife’s disquiet.

  “Yes, Papa. Jacob Potts seems rather adamant about keeping his vow.”

  “But why should Cain set himself up as your guardian?” Camille could only wonder
what had transpired to compel the poor man to play paladin. What was her daughter not telling them?

  Shemaine was reluctant to explain, for she knew her, mother would be greatly distressed if she knew the whole of it. “I just helped Cain one day—”

  “In what way?” her father pressed.

  She lifted her shoulders in another lame-hearted gesture. “Potts was beating the man and I interfered. . . .”

  “How?” Shemus was becoming increasingly alert. He knew his daughter well enough to sense when she was trying to hide something from them. “What did you do exactly?”

  “I hit Potts,” Shemaine answered in a fretful rush.

  “Ye what?” Shemus barked loudly.

  Camille was nearly swooning from shock. “I dare not hear anymore!”

  Her husband was insistent. “Tell us everything!”

  Shemaine heaved a sigh, fully expecting an explosion to be forthcoming from her parents. It was obvious her father would be content with nothing less than the whole tangled tale. “ ‘Tis simple really. Potts was giving Cain a thrashing, and I grabbed a stick and whacked the tar across the head a couple of times. That’s all.”

  Camille groaned in abject misery. “Oh, she wouldn’t! Shemus, tell me she wouldn’t!”

  “Oh, she did, ta be sure!” Mary Margaret informed them gleefully, thoroughly amused by their interrogation. “I saw it all meself!”

  Maurice nearly choked as he tried to subdue his laughter, but he failed badly in his attempt, for he began to guffaw in amusement, much to the delight of the twins and the distress of Camille. Finally, he managed to calm himself somewhat, but not before he winked at Shemaine and cheered her on. “That’s my girl.”

  “How daring you are!” Gabrielle exclaimed with obvious enthusiasm. “I should like to be so brave.”

  “You squeal at first sight of a little mouse,” her twin accused lightheartedly, effectively squelching the other’s dreamy sigh.

  Gabrielle tossed her fine head, dismissing her sister’s chiding. “Well, that’s better than trying to feed every little animal you see.”

  Shemus posed a wary conjecture. “I must assume this Potts is smaller than the average man.”