Buccaneers Series

by Linda Lee Chaikin

  “We’ll be discussing that later with the council members and planters,” said Modyford.

  Earl Nigel walked past Felix without a glance and came up to Cunningham and Baret. “To fight for England, Winston. What else? I always did say Baret was the best man to command the royal naval vessel. This proves it. Three Dutch ships sunk! Barbados saved from England’s enemies, and all British ships in Antigua spared capture by Admiral de Ruyter! Wait till Charles hears of this! He’ll be calling Baret home to Whitehall at once.”

  Emerald, dazed, stole a victorious glance at Felix, but the expression on his white face sobered her at once. Anger and hatred gleamed in his eyes.

  “You, at least, do not appear won over, Felix,” Modyford said. “You’re not still determined to place the label of pirate about your nephew’s neck?”

  “Naturally, this esteemed victory for His Majesty has come as a shock to me. Nevertheless, it’s a pleasant one if the turn about is true. You can be sure that as a member of the Admiralty court this brings me relief. My father and Baret both know how hard I’ve worked to steer Baret away from his father’s exploits on the Main.”

  Emerald half expected a sharp comeback by Baret, and it appeared that Felix too expected him to open a debate about Royce. When he did not, Felix gave him a measured glance.

  How could Felix get by with such a bold-faced lie? she wondered, remembering the anguish he and Jasper had put her through. She marveled at Baret’s restraint in the face of his uncle’s aggression. Evidently there was much more that Baret wanted, and intended to gain, by refusing to confront him now.

  Felix turned toward Baret. “My congratulations, Baret. Grayford, too, will be pleased and quick to offer his gratitude for your victory for the king. He’s here tonight with Lavender.”

  “Your favor, Felix, is accepted gratefully,” said Baret. “Am I to assume you no longer wish to pursue the issue of Maracaibo?”

  “The matter of Lucca remains troublesome to the Spanish viceroy. But after Barbados, the king will find a way to soothe the Spanish ire. Lucca is dead. The matter of your father ends with him, since there are no witnesses to attest to Royce’s innocence in the unfortunate matter of the Prince Philip.”

  Emerald’s thoughts went to her own father. He had been a witness. Had Felix known this and moved to silence him even as he had Lucca and the pirate Maynerd? A glance at Baret told her nothing.

  “Let the past die that the future might live,” Felix was commenting. “If this means you’ve decided at long last to throw your privilege as the heir of your father behind His Majesty, I can only rejoice you’ve at last come home.” He walked over to Earl Nigel and laid a hand on his shoulder. “My father has longed for this moment. As his son and your uncle, I can enter into that joy.”

  Emerald looked at Baret. He seemed grave, but she knew him too well not to notice the flicker in the depths of his eyes.

  “I’m glad you see it this way, Felix,” he said. “It’s a pity it took a war with the Dutch to bring the family together. You might as well know I met with Lucca in Maracaibo before his death.”

  “Oh?”

  “He assured me my father is dead. And now, as you say, the past must die that the future may live.”

  Emerald stirred uneasily. He didn’t believe this! Lucca had assured him Royce was alive!

  Felix studied him, growing more relaxed with the passing moments. “As I have often told you, the sooner you accepted this and proceeded with your own life, the wiser and happier we would all be.”

  “Yes,” said Earl Nigel quietly to both son and grandson as the three Buckingtons stood in public camaraderie. “What’s important is the Buckington name and our service to the king. You have that foolish document, Felix?”

  As if to end any question of his willingness to cover his tracks and build on what could not be changed—Baret’s new role and place in the family—Felix took the document and held it up to a torch until it burst into flame, dancing in the evening breeze.

  Emerald watched, relieved, as it burned away her signature that Felix had so cleverly obtained.

  The document fell to the courtyard, turning to ashes.

  Governor Modyford joined them. “Well, gentlemen, with that settled, the council members wait impatiently to discuss the perceived danger to Jamaica.”

  Emerald held back, keeping to the courtyard shadows. If Baret was aware of her, he did not let on. The men had all evidently forgotten her and the part she’d played in Felix’s ruse. And she now believed that Baret had known all along what the outcome would be, or he’d never have permitted himself to be in this precarious situation. His grandfather, perhaps even the governor as well, had known what to expect. The only oblivious ones had been Felix, Earl Winston Cunningham, and herself. No wonder Baret hadn’t seemed worried about her appearance before the governor.

  They walked past her toward the lighted salon, talking among themselves of the war.

  She took pleasure in watching Earl Nigel throw an arm about his grandson’s shoulder. He had waited long to win Baret back to the respectable role of viscount.

  It dawned on her that the earl and Baret were fully reconciled. That would mean that his grandfather no longer saw Baret as a scamp who couldn’t be trusted with the family title, inheritance, and lands. It would also mean that he no longer viewed Baret’s wish to marry the future duchess Lavender Thaxton as a menace to his plans for the family.

  Emerald felt pride in his interception of the Dutch attack on Barbados, but she still wondered what could have motivated him, since he was sympathetic to the cause of Holland. It wasn’t lost on her that his decision had been made after learning that Lavender’s marriage to Grayford had not been consummated—and after thinking the very worst about herself. Had he decided to please Earl Nigel to win Lavender?

  Emerald picked up the hem of her burgundy flounces and walked from the courtyard toward the lighted salon. Her business here was over now. She might as well find her way on foot back to the lookout house and wait for Zeddie to return.

  Would Baret still insist that she leave with him to begin a new life in the Carolinas? He had said he wished to help her. Maybe she should accept his help. Between him and Sir Cecil, she might at least get Minette back. However, the more she thought of running from the smug faces and knowing eyes, the more she was determined to stay to prove them all wrong about her. No matter that she cringed at the idea of returning to Foxe-moore. Why should she slink away in shame when God knew her to be innocent?

  I have many sins the Savior must forgive, she thought. But immoral conduct isn’t one of them. And I’m going to stay and prove it.

  After all, what would her beloved father have thought of her slinking away? She could hear his voice now: You listen to me. I’ll not have you hiding yourself like some frightened kitten, too afraid to show her face to important people. I expect my daughter to conduct herself with pride.

  Her eyes moistened. I’ll do it for him, if not for myself. He had loved Foxemoore, and he worked as hard as any man could to keep their shares in the sugar. The bungalow was hers, even if she never set foot again in the Great House. And I’ll fight for my shares of Foxemoore just the way my father would have me do.

  Peace settled over her heart as now she stood alone in the courtyard. The gentry with their wives and daughters would be gathering in the salon and on the front lawn. She believed she had found the path marked out for her by the Lord and that He had answered her prayers for guidance and help. He wanted her to stay in Jamaica and seek her father’s inheritance on Foxemoore. What would become of her, what else He might have for her as time moved forward, she did not know. Faith told her it was enough that He knew and that He would make the daily provision she needed.

  One day at a time was sufficient. One answered prayer at a time for help and sustenance, followed mercifully by another, would be her portion. The future would unfold day by day. Because her heavenly Father was trustworthy, she would believe that when she reached the end of
the hot and dusty road, a well of spiritual water would be there waiting. Like Hagar, “Thou God seest me.”

  23

  PIRATE OR KING’S AGENT?

  Emerald left the courtyard with a rustle of skirts, anxious to be gone before any of the catty women noticed her presence and began their whispering. She was not just the offspring of a pirate’s daughter who had run away with Jamie and slept in Captain Buckington’s cabin, but now she had since spent weeks in Brideswell for attempted murder. And Baret and Jasper had fought over her at the hacienda!

  There’s no use in even trying anymore, she thought dully. All I want is to avoid people and live quietly at the bungalow. If I can have Minette back safe, we’ll be able to endure their buzzing tongues.

  Her dark brows puckered as she stood on the yellow tile floor, glancing about the salon, wondering which door would lead her out to the front lawn.

  Insects fluttered and buzzed about the saffron light radiating from sconces that looped like honey pots about the wall. Ahead, the double doors leading into the parlor stood wide open for the assembly of Jamaica’s ruling class to catch the evening breeze from the bay.

  Members of the council and at least a dozen sugar and cacao planters had gathered with Governor Modyford to discuss the safety of the island. An attack by the Dutch or French was on everyone’s mind, and an unending rumble of arguing voices cut through the warm evening, punctuated now and then by an impatient outburst.

  “Forget the Dutch! It’s an attack by Spain we best keep in mind.”

  A chorus of voices joined in agreement, but the mocking voice of Lord Felix rose above the others. “An unwise excuse to appease the pirates on Tortuga. If His Majesty hears of it, the governor will be called into question.”

  “Maybe not,” came Governor Modyford’s voice, and the air of confidence in his tone brought a lull in the discussion.

  Emerald’s attention was caught away when new guests arrived in the salon. Lavender entered, appearing angelic in shimmering white silk. Her golden hair was arranged in a cascade with tiny pale blue stones catching the light. Walking beside her was Lord Grayford and the staunch Puritan Cambridge scholar, Sir Cecil Chaderton.

  A wave of relief enveloped Emerald as though her father had suddenly returned to draw sword against her enemies.

  Sir Cecil was conservatively dressed in dark clothing with a wide-brimmed scholar hat absent the plume of the king’s dashing Cavaliers. His jaw-length silver hair was neatly paged against a lean, hawklike face, toughened and browned by the Jamaican sun, and he wore a well-groomed, short, pointed Sir Walter Raleigh beard.

  At this moment he seemed like a messenger of the Lord, and she hurried toward him, a hind with a wolf at her heels.

  “Sir Cecil,” she said jubilantly, “you came!”

  She had a fleeting glimpse of Cousin Lavender turning her back and giving Grayford no opportunity to acknowledge Emerald. The couple left toward the parlor.

  Cecil threw a fatherly arm about her shoulders and walked her toward the other end of the salon, where they could speak in private while guests continued to arrive for the governor’s grand dinner.

  “My dear child, I came as soon as I received your correspondence. My condolences, where Sir Karlton is concerned. Baret assures me he is searching into the vile matter and won’t rest until he knows the truth.”

  This was encouraging. Baret might hold no serious interest in her, but he had been fond of her father.

  “He was murdered,” she told him. “I’m sure of it.”

  “So Baret has said.” He shook his head. “Smugglers and piracy. Karlton must have known and perhaps saw more that night than his enemies were willing to allow.”

  She told him of Zeddie and the Dutch slave ship. “He vows Lord Felix was on Fisher’s Row waiting near a carriage.”

  “Have you mentioned any of this to Baret?”

  She looked away, her eyes turning cool. “No. He’s been too busy accusing me of surrendering to that vile Sir Jasper.”

  “Ah, that.” His mouth turned wryly. “Don’t let that disturb you a moment more. Rare is the case when mindless jealousy does a man good. You’ll need to forgive the scoundrel for making matters more bitter for you. I’m sure he has an apt apology at hand, and you’ll yet be satisfied.”

  She looked at him, masking her doubt. She couldn’t understand why Cecil would nurture such confidence. She supposed he knew about Baret’s call at the lookout house the day before. The viscount’s suave dismissal of the matter was as close to an apology as she was likely to receive from him, but Emerald’s wounded spirit was far from satisfied. There had remained that burning flicker of anger in his dark eyes. Sir Cecil had called it jealousy. Was it? But how could that be? A man didn’t become jealous unless he loved a woman.

  Cecil’s piercing eyes glinted. “Instead of in a pirate’s lair like Port Royal, you should be living safely in England, but, alas, this absurd war with Holland has interrupted all our fair plans. Still, it has accommodated at least one answered prayer where Baret is concerned. You’ve heard of his victory at Barbados?”

  She saw the sudden sparkle of pleasure in his eyes. Lavender and Lord Grayford came to mind. “Yes. The king will knight him.”

  “And Erik Farrow too. It was a wise move on Baret’s part. He saw an opportunity to assist England and made a difficult decision. His loyalty has long been divided between his mother’s ancestry and Royce’s.”

  He sacrificed for Lavender, she could have told him but kept silent. She knew why he had fought for the king, even if Cecil did not. She also wondered if Baret hadn’t just wanted to excel over Lord Grayford, commander of the H.M.S. Royale. Well, he had certainly appeared the better commander this time. Lavender must be exceedingly proud of him.

  Cecil must have mistaken her expression, for he frowned. “Poor child, you’ve been through more than your share of muck and mire recently, but we’re optimistic that matters will soon turn for your best interest.”

  We? she wondered. Was he referring to Geneva?

  “Baret, too, wrote me about Brideswell and the house in Spanish Town,” he continued. “He won’t rest until these matters are resolved and your reputation is defended and those responsible pay dearly for their abuse. When it comes to protecting those he loves, he has a wretched temper. I pity the overseer when the time comes.” He sighed. “I suppose I will need to try to restrain him a little.”

  So Baret wished to handle Mr. Pitt. What had he told Sir Cecil? She looked at him, alert now and intensely interested in anything Baret would write about her to the one man he respected above all others.

  “I wasn’t aware the viscount wrote you,” she said, hoping for information.

  “We are both in agreement where your watchful care is concerned. Baret has asked me to look into the extent of your father’s debts to the family and see they’re paid in full. There’s also the curious concern that Lord Felix has seen to bring up again recently to Earl Nigel and Lady Sophie.”

  Now it was coming, she thought uneasily—her father’s share in Foxemoore was in dispute.

  “What might you know of his relationship with Baret’s greatgrandfather?”

  She sighed. “Earl Esmond?”

  “Um … yes. He died at Buckington House, I believe, soon after he’d changed his will, leaving Karlton a certain share of West Indies land that Felix seems to think should have been his.”

  “My father told me that before, but he always disputed Lord Felix’s claims. I know very little about the legal document.” Her voice confessed her own doubt. “He brought me to his office once at the bungalow and showed it to me as proof, but as a child it meant nothing more to me than an official-looking paper with a shiny seal. He always claimed Felix was trying to have it annulled.”

  “So Baret said. We would both like to see that document, to safeguard it for your inheritance.”

  “Unfortunately my father didn’t keep it at the house on Fishers Row but locked away in the bungalow at Foxemoore.�
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  “I wouldn’t wish to add to your alarm, but the groom informed me before I left this afternoon that Lady Sophie’s overseer has moved into the bungalow. Why he’d presume to do so, or whether he had your great-aunt’s permission, I wouldn’t know.”

  Her hands clenched. Of all the gall! Mr. Pitt in her father’s house, sleeping in her beloved father’s bed, and rummaging through his personal belongings! She must get him out at once. How could he even dare? After all the sorrow he had caused her. This was the last assault he could make on all that she held dear.

  “I see by your expression this causes you bitter grief.” He patted her hand soothingly. “I’m sorry to have told you. I’ll speak to Baret about it, or you may mention it tonight when you meet with him. Have you any notion why he’d move in?”

  “Mr. Pitt has the vain hope of becoming a great planter one day,” she said wearily, struggling against bitterness when she thought of him. “Since Jasper has managed to become an important man in the West Indies, then he can as well—so he believes. His time as indentured servant to Lady Sophie ends shortly, and he expects to receive a grant of land from Governor Modyford through Sir Jasper. I’m afraid Mr. Pitt would do most anything to accomplish his goals. He even entertains the notion of finding information about the treasure of the Prince Philip.”

  “Ah. So he expects to search Karlton’s trunk.”

  “The night he broke into the lookout house, he’d come about the jewels he insisted I had.”

  “Yes, I recall that sordid incident aboard the Regale.” His expression turned displeased. “Captain Levasseur claimed you had taken them from his ship.”

  “It wasn’t I that took them, but Minette. The viscount retrieved them from my cabin later. As far as I know, he still has them.”

  A brow shot up. “Indeed? A matter to inquire about at the appropriate time.”

  “Mr. Pitt must have decided my father had them at the bungalow.”

  “I doubt the viscount knows this. He’s meeting with Governor Modyford now, but I think you should speak with him later tonight.” His expression lightened. “He’ll want to discuss another matter as well.”