“Take her to her cabin,” Louisa told Kit. “I will be right there.”
Louisa stopped by the galley for some fresh water and broth, and got some clean rags from Agnes. By the time she got to Anne’s cabin, Kit had laid her out on her berth, having unwrapped the colorful blanket. Louisa stifled a scream as she pushed aside the strips of torn fabric. Anne’s chest was covered with livid blue welts. “Her back is worse,” Kit said. “She has been beaten, more than once.”
“How do you know that?” Louisa put her hand to the girl’s face. It was hot and sweaty.
“Some of the bruises are turning yellow, while others are still purple,” Kit answered matter-of-factly as he held up her wrists. “She’d been fettered too.”
Louisa took Anne’s wrist, searching for a pulse. She could feel it under her fingers; faint, but definitely there. She would be all right. She just needed care. “Kit, where did you find her?”
“I was just about to leave the market when they brought her up on the platform. I had to engage in a bidding war to get her. I have very little money left.”
“How did she come to be here?” Louisa thought that Anne had been taken to Africa and here she was in Jamaica. “Did you see her mother?”
“No, I didn’t see Mrs. Collins anywhere. The man who sold Anne to me was Dutch. He must have either bought her from the pirates, or traded her for someone else. I can’t really say. He had a few others for sale. She didn’t even recognize me, poor thing. She collapsed halfway through the auction, which was actually fortunate, since it kept the others from bidding. They want healthy slaves, although she would have fetched a considerably higher price had she been with child.”
“Why don’t you leave us? I need to get these rags off and try to get some food into her. Hopefully, she’ll come around soon.”
Kit just nodded and left the cabin, closing the door behind him. Louisa turned her attention to Anne. Her breathing was shallow, her eyes still closed. Louisa dipped a rag into the water and began sponging Anne’s face. She kept a cup of water aside for drinking and put it to Anne’s dry lips. Anne’s eyes fluttered open in panic. She stared at Louisa, unseeing, full of fear.
“Anne, it’s me, Louisa Jamison. You are aboard the Gloriana. Do you remember me?” The girl just stared, her lips moving silently. Louisa gave her more water and continued to apply a wet rag to her face.
“Anne, you’ll be all right now. Captain Sheridan will keep you safe.” The girl closed her eyes again, a tear sliding down into the hair at her temple. Louisa gently wiped the tear and smoothed the filthy hair away from Anne’s face. Anne turned away, silent tears sliding down face. She looked emaciated and broken. Where was her mother? Louisa thought it best not to ask.
Anne tried to push Louisa’s hands away as she began to peel off what was left of her gown. Anne’s body was covered with bruises, but the skin hadn’t been broken, which was fortunate. Less chance of infection. Louisa pulled off the torn and soiled petticoat and looked at Anne’s thighs. They were much bruised on the inside, and smeared with dried blood. So, she must have been raped, poor girl, and brutally. Anne whimpered as Louisa began to wash the blood away, trying to be as gentle as possible.
“Anne, are you badly hurt?” The girl didn’t answer. She seemed to be in shock. Louisa finished washing her and took a clean shift out of her trunk. She pulled it carefully over Anne’s head, helping her to lie back down.
“Go to sleep, Anne. I’ll get Agnes to come and sit with you for a while.”
“Father,” Anne whispered through her cracked lips. “Father.”
“He’s not here right now. Just try to sleep. I’ll come back later.” Louisa let herself out of the cabin, her eyes swimming with tears. The poor girl had been through absolute hell, and now she would have to tell her that her father had committed suicide. Anne would be left alone in the world with no one to take care of her or protect her. Louisa went to get Agnes. She didn’t want to leave Anne alone for any length of time. God only knew what she might do.
Chapter 50
Valerie put on a wide-brimmed hat to shield her face from the sun and picked up a basket. She’d go pick some wild strawberries at the edge of the forest and make jam for Finn. She had discovered the strawberry patch shortly after coming to Rosewood Manor, and picked the fruit every year, making pots of jam. She didn’t have real sugar for sweetening, but a little honey or molasses usually did the trick, and eventually everyone overcame their suspicion of the little red berries.
It had been several weeks since Finn’s ordeal, but he was still sulking, hardly eating anything and refusing to leave his room. His leg was on the mend, but he was bed-bound for at least another two months. Alec offered every day to take him outside, but Finn refused. He stubbornly remained in his room, sullen and alone, reading and rereading his favorite book on astronomy. Valerie knew exactly what was troubling him, but had no idea how to get through to her son. She would keep trying. Maybe a little jam would sweeten his temper.
“Going strawberry picking, Mrs. Whitfield?” Bridget asked as she came out of the sitting room, her sewing basket slung over her arm. “I’ve just finished all my mending. Would ye care for some company?”
“Of course, Bridget. I’d love it.”
The two women strolled companionably toward the strawberry patch, their baskets swinging as they walked. After so many years, Bridget was more friend than servant, but Valerie never asked her about her daughters in Ireland, since it was a sore subject for the woman. She missed her girls terribly, but at this stage saw no reason to return home. Both girls had married within the past few years, and now had lives of their own. Bridget got the occasional letter delivered from England by Captain Smith. The girls would send the letters to an inn at Plymouth where the captain would collect them when in port.
“Is Mr. Finn still fretting?”
“I’m afraid he is. He feels guilty about the baby, and blames himself for bringing on the early labor,” Valerie answered with a sigh. “I keep telling him that it wasn’t his fault, but he doesn’t believe me.”
“I told him much the same thing, but he just shook his head and went back to his book,” Bridget replied. “He will come around in time. He just needs to be up and about again. It will take his mind off his troubles.”
“Speaking of troubles, Bridget, I can’t get Cora’s death off my mind. I keep trying to figure out who killed her.”
“Why do ye think someone killed her, Mrs. Whitfield?” Bridget set her basket down and began to pick the fruit with both hands.
“It’s the way she was positioned. If she was in the spring house alone and simply slipped and hit her head, she wouldn’t have been behind all those cans. It’s as if someone was trying to hide her, but didn’t do a very good job. I can’t imagine that it was a planned attack, but maybe she argued with someone, and the argument got out of hand. She also had a little piece of fabric clutched in her hand, as if she tore it while fighting off her attacker, or trying to grab the other person to retain her balance. Alec didn’t think anything of it, but I think it might be significant.” Valerie popped a strawberry into her mouth, enjoying the sweetness of the little berry.
“Hmm. I reckon it could have happened that way, but who would do that?”
“I have three suspects so far: Mr. Whitfield, Mr. Charles, and Richard Squires.” Valerie turned to look at Bridget to see her reaction.
“Ye suspect yer own husband?!” Bridget exclaimed.
“No, but Charles accused him of dallying with Cora and of killing her, and although I don’t believe he did it; I have to keep him on the list. I suspect Charles only did that to divert suspicion from himself. It seems they were lovers.”
Bridget nodded thoughtfully. “I can believe that. Cora was not the kind of girl to remain a maid for long. It wasn’t in her nature. Now, Amelia, she is a different sort altogether. They fought more often than not, those two.” Bridget continued to pick the berries, her basket filling much faster than Valerie’s who kept
putting the berries in her mouth.
“Did they? I thought they were fond of each other.”
“Oh, they were, but they fought something fierce. I heard them through the wall of my room. Couldn’t hear what they were fighting about.”
“Hmm, I didn’t know that,” Valerie said. “Was Amelia carrying on with anyone?”
“Not that I know of. Ye should consider the women too, aye? Maybe someone was jealous.” Bridget straightened out and rubbed her back for a moment before bending down for more fruit.
“Who would be jealous of Cora? We only have me, you, Amelia, and Mrs. Dolly in the house, and I don’t believe any one of us bashed her head in.”
“What about the field workers? There are four women. Mr. Charles could have been dallying with more than one lass, did ye think of that?”
“No, I haven’t. I can’t see Charles being even remotely interested in any of those women, but I supposed they can’t be ruled out completely. Bridget I never knew you had such powers of deduction,” Valerie laughed. “You can be my sidekick.”
“Yer what?”
“My assistant. I will share everything that I find out with you from now on,” Valerie promised.
“Sounds fine to me, Mrs. Whitfield, so long as ye don’t think I killed her.” Bridget sat down on a patch of grass and took a handful of strawberries, popping them into her mouth one by one, smiling sheepishly at her mistress.
Chapter 51
Valerie buttered two pieces of bread and impaled them on a stick, holding them out over the hearth. The jam was ready and cooled, filling the kitchen with a sweet, fruity aroma. She would bring Finn jam on toast. Even he couldn’t resist that. Finn had a sweet tooth just like his father. He wouldn’t say no to jam. Valerie slid the bread off, spread it with more butter and jam and put it on a tray with a glass of cold milk. She hoped this would work.
Finn was studying a map when she came in, his face pale and sad. Valerie noted that he was wearing a clean shirt, and managed to pull on his breeches over the makeshift cast on his leg. His hair was brushed and pulled back into a neat ponytail. Definite improvement from a few days ago, when he was sitting around in his nightshirt, hair messy, and face unwashed.
“What are you looking at, Finn?”
“All the places I’d like to visit once I get older. I want to be an explorer, like Columbus.” He put down the map and glanced at the laden tray, his eyes brightening. “Is that strawberry jam? Did you just make it?”
“I made it especially for you. Bridget and I picked the strawberries only this morning. Would you like some?”
“Yes, please. Thank you, Mama. That was good of you, considering…” Valerie set the tray down in his lap and sat on the side of the bed.
“Finn, I know you blame yourself for what happened, but I keep telling you, it wasn’t your fault. It takes more than worrying for a woman to go into labor.”
Finn took a bite of toast, his gaze sliding guiltily away from his mother. “You don’t have to say that to make me feel better. I know what I’ve done.”
“Finn, listen to me. While I was carrying you, terrible things happened. First, I was very ill. I didn’t even know you existed then, and later on, your father was arrested and taken to the Tower. You know what happened. I saw him in in his cell before he died of being tortured to death. He was barely recognizable. I could have lost you then, but I didn’t. You hung on and lived, and were born healthy and strong when the time was right. Baby Alex wasn’t strong. Babies born at seven months often survive, but he didn’t. He just wasn’t strong enough. You can’t blame yourself for that. No one can.”
Finn stopped chewing and gave her a pleading look. “Really? Is that really true? I didn’t kill him?”
“No, my love. You didn’t kill him. No one did.”
Finn suddenly looked relieved, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders. “Thank you, Mama. Do you think Father can help me go outside later? I’d like to sit in the garden.”
“Of course, but before that, you can help me with something. Have you ever seen Cora with anyone?” If anyone saw anything, it would be Finn. He was always coming and going, and his powers of observation were keen.
Finn looked thoughtful for a moment. “I saw her kissing Charles in the woods. She told me it was a secret and not to tell anyone. I didn’t tell.”
“Of course, you didn’t. Have you ever seen her with anyone else?”
“No, but I saw Amelia with Charles too. They weren’t kissing though.” Finn drained his cup of milk and put it back down on the tray, not bothering to wipe his milk moustache.
“What were they doing?”
“They were quarrelling, but they stopped as soon as they saw me and pretended to be civil.”
“Are you sure it was Amelia and not Cora?” Valerie was perplexed.
“Of course, I am sure. They don’t even look alike, do they?”
“No, I suppose they don’t.” Valerie removed the tray and made for the door. “Father will come and help you soon.” Finn was already looking at his map again, a small smile on his face.
Chapter 52
Louisa gently pulled the brush through Anne’s hair. The girl seemed to like having her hair brushed, and Louisa was only too happy to do something, anything, to help her feel better. She still hadn’t spoken, but managed to take some food and stroll around the deck on the arm of the reverend. Louisa plaited the hair and twisted it onto a chignon at the nape of Anne’s neck, securing it with several pins.
“Would you like to take a walk with me, Anne?” The girl didn’t answer, but got up slowly and went to the door. Her bruises were beginning to heal and fade, but the emotional damage would not be so easily dealt with. Reverend Blackley spent hours reading to Anne from the Bible in an effort to comfort her, but she remained silent and detached. Louisa was relieved to hear from Agnes that Anne had begun to bleed. Thank God she wasn’t pregnant.
Louisa led Anne toward the prow of the ship. She seemed to like that spot, and stood looking out over the horizon, her eyes wistful and moist. North America was already visible in the distance, as they drew closer to the shores of Florida. They would be sailing up the coast until they docked in Virginia in a week’s time.
“They slit her throat,” Anne whispered suddenly. She sounded detached and matter-of-fact, but Louisa knew this was a breakthrough. She didn’t ask any questions, just took Anne’s hand in her own and squeezed it reassuringly.
“She kept screaming, demanding to be released. I begged her to be quiet, but she wouldn’t stop. She just screamed and screamed.”
“Are you speaking of your mother, Anne?” She nodded sadly. “Yes. My mother. My poor mother.” She continued to stare out over the water for such a long time that Louisa thought she wouldn’t say any more, but Anne suddenly spoke again.
“They beat her and then they gave her to the sailors. Many of them were Mussulmen and wouldn’t touch her, but some did. They took turns with her and made me watch. They cut her throat and threw her overboard once they were done. I begged them to kill me too, but they said I would fetch a much higher price than my old, fat mother and shackled me below.”
“What happened after that?” Louisa thought she shouldn’t ask, but she needed to know. It would help her help Anne if she knew what happened.
“One of the other captives told me they were sailing to Algiers, but they met another ship on the way. It was Dutch. The captains seemed to know each other from before. The Dutch captain came aboard to look over the slaves. He chose me and a few men, and we were dragged aboard his ship. The men were taken down below, but I was taken to his cabin. I went willingly, thinking he might be a civilized man and help me, but I was so wrong.” A sob escaped Anne as she continued to stare straight ahead, shaking slightly.
“He wanted me to do things, horrible things, but I refused. He beat me, then raped me, again and again. I would have thrown myself into the sea if I was able to get free long enough to reach the deck, but he kept me
locked in his cabin. He took me to the slave market once we reached Jamaica. He said that I gave him no pleasure, and he could still get good money from me.” Anne was crying hard now, her face contorted with grief. “Captain Sheridan saved my life, but he shouldn’t have bothered. My life is worthless now. I wish I was dead, like my parents. There is nothing left for me in this world.”
“Oh, Anne. Don’t say that. We will take care of you. We won’t let anyone harm you again.” Louisa put her arms around the girl, knowing that she gave her no comfort. Anne no longer cared what happened to her. She would have to watch her carefully to make sure she didn’t do anything foolish.
***
Louisa slid off Kit’s lap as she heard the persistent knock on the door.
“Enter,” he called out, putting on his “Captain” face. The reverend entered the cabin, not bothering to hide his disapproval when he saw Louisa seated demurely by Kit’s side.
“Captain Sheridan, a word if you please.” The reverend took a seat offered by Kit, his hands folded in his lap. “I understand that you intend to look after Miss Collins once we dock, and I think I might be able to help.”
“I am listening,” Kit replied, leaning forward. He felt it his duty to look after Miss Collins, but at this time, he had no idea what form that care would take. Kit would be sailing back to England in due time, and taking Anne along was out of the question. He hoped to find a suitable home for her in Virginia.
“I wish to marry her. Would you be so kind as to perform the ceremony? I am afraid I can’t marry myself.” The reverend looked anxious and Louisa felt some sympathy for the man.
“Reverend, do you think that Miss Collins is in any condition to marry at the moment?” Kit asked. “Have you even discussed this with her?” He seemed genuinely shocked at the suggestion, especially since Louisa had just told him of her conversation with Anne. Kit poured a cup of wine for himself and offered one to the reverend.
A Leap of Faith (The Hands of Time: Book 2) Page 16