Tender Fortune

by Judith E. French

  "Yes, yes. Captain Halifax, wasn't it? Of the Lancashire Halifaxes?" Jamie's voice took on a condescending tone, causing the older man to flush. "You had just then arrived from the islands." Jamie turned to Charity. "My apologies, mistress. May I present Captain Halifax, in the service of His Majesty. Captain Halifax is some sort of a pirate: chaser." Jamie smirked. "It was pirates, wasn't it, old boy?"

  "Smugglers." The officer gave a stiff bow. "Captain Daniel Halifax, mistress. May I have the honor of your name?"

  Charity forced a smile. "Caroline Smythe-Tarylton."

  "Mistress Smythe-Tarylton is the guest of Lady Deale. Surely you don't suspect her of being a smuggler, do you?"

  The captain's thick brows twitched angrily. "We had reports of a smuggler operating in this area. We've captured an accomplice and expect to make further arrests within the week. I've also been instructed to inquire about a body which may have washed up along the bay several weeks ago—that of an escaped bondwoman."

  "By God, man! Where's your manners? There's a lady present!" Jamie protested. "I find your conversation quite... quite ungentlemanly, Captain Halifax. If you'll be so kind..." He put an arm about Charity and escorted her to the blanket, then draped his coat over her shoulders. "Stay here, smile, and keep your mouth shut," he murmured from between clenched teeth.

  Charity nodded, too frightened to protest. Why was he goading the captain? The man was dangerous. Even without the soldiers, he was capable of subduing them both. Jamie would never fight to protect her, and even if he would, he'd have no chance against this professional killer whose muscles bulged beneath his tailored uniform. His eyes were almost inhuman, cold as a snake's. The square face, the close-cropped black hair, made her think of an executioner. Captain Halifax was a man without mercy, and a man of short temper. She shuddered and tried to look casual.

  Jamie sauntered back to the waiting officer. "You'll frighten her to death with all your chatter about pirates and bloated bodies. You military types are all so insensitive," he chided with just the hint of a lisp. "We've had a dreadful day as it is. I was teaching Caroline to fish and she slipped into the river. She might have drowned."

  Halifax regarded him suspiciously. "And why is it, Drummond, that you're not wet? Surely you went to the lady's rescue?"

  "Well, I could hardly go in after her. I can't swim a stroke. What good would it have done for both of us to be swept away?" Jamie brushed at the mud on his breeches. "I've heard of no runaway bondwomen, dead or alive. And I've certainly seen no smugglers! What I'm going to say to Lady Deale is beyond me. My horse threw me earlier. My nose is probably broken, and there's not a qualified physician for days. If it wasn't for Father, I'd be at home where these sorts of things simply don't happen." Jamie sniffed loudly. "I say, old man." He fumbled in his pockets. "You don't have a clean handkerchief, do you? I seem to have lost mine."

  "No, I don't." Halifax put a boot into the stirrup and swung up on his horse. "I'd advise you to escort the young lady home. If the smugglers do show up, it's hardly the place to have a helpless woman." He gathered his reins in one hand and nodded to the other men. "Oh, one additional thing. Do you know an Irish priest by the name of Brady?"

  "Father Brady? I've heard of him. I'm not a Catholic myself. Is this papist priest a pirate too?"

  "He was seen talking to the boy we've arrested in a tavern in Annapolis. He may have information. Do you know of his whereabouts?"

  "Me? Hardly. He isn't exactly in my social circle. You might inquire of some of the papist families. There are quite a few on the Tidewater. These priests come and go as I understand it."

  "I will expect any intelligence to be forwarded to my headquarters in Annapolis. I need not remind you that aiding smugglers or withholding information is a felony, punishable by hanging. Social status irregardless."

  "Quite." Jamie gulped. "I've no liking for the scoundrels myself, to be sure. If this priest sets foot on Bold Venture, I'll have him seized and send word. I pay my taxes on every bale that touches my landing, and I damned well expect others to do the same!" He looked about nervously. "Might I ask for the loan of one of your stout fellows." Jamie inclined his head toward Charity. "The lady, you know. If there really are smugglers, we... ah... she might be in danger."

  Slightly mollified by what he believed to be cowardly behavior on Jamie's part, the captain allowed himself a disgusted chuckle. "Corporal!" he roared.

  "Sir!" The whip-thin soldier snapped to attention.

  "Accompany the lady and gentleman to their destination, then meet us at the crossroads at dusk." The captain yanked his mount around, already dismissing Jamie. "Remember, I expect to hear if you learn of any strangers about."

  "Yes, sir!"

  "Obliged, I'm sure," Jamie lisped. "Good hunting, Captain."

  The captain dug his heels into the bay's side and galloped away, followed closely by the remaining soldiers. The corporal waited patiently while Jamie gathered up the picnic things and helped Charity onto her mare.

  The ride back to Widow's Endeavor was made nearly in silence. Jamie was strangely quiet, giving no reason for the military escort. Remembering his advice, Charity said nothing. The soldier was too shy to speak. He'd been ordered to protect the civilians, nothing more. Conversation with gentlefolk was beyond his experience.

  Charity guided the mare as best she could and tried to look dignified in her wet riding habit. Fortunately, the day was warm and it was not unpleasant. The sun was hot on her face and she felt her cheeks beginning to redden. She had never expected the Colonies to be warmer than home. In all the stories she had heard, no one had ever mentioned the heat.

  Eventually they came to a dirt path and Jamie turned onto it. "We came cross-country this morning," he explained. "This route is safer."

  The corporal grunted agreement. Smugglers were found near the water. There was no danger to the lady and gent here. Still, the duty was a break in routine and he welcomed it. There might even be a bite at the plantation kitchen before he rode to join up with his superior.

  A neatly dressed black woman came toward them on a spotted pony. "Afternoon, Master Drummond," she called.

  "Afternoon, Abigail." Jamie motioned to the pair of saddlebags behind her. "You delivering another baby today?"

  "Just come from Lady Deale's. One o' her girls had twin boys, fat as you please! Don't matter to babies whether they got fathers or not." She smiled at Charity, revealing even white teeth, a rarity for a woman her age. "How are you today, miss?" The smile turned to a grin. "Looks like you fergot to take off yer duds when ye went aswimmin'."

  "I... I fell in," Charity lied. "And I'm fine now, thank you."

  The corporal, remembering his mission, cleared his throat loudly. "Woman! Have you seen a man named Brady, a Catholic priest?"

  The dark eyes narrowed and the smile vanished. "What you be wantin' with Father Brady, soldier? He ain't broke no laws."

  "We'll be the judge of that. Have you seen him?"

  "Course I seen him! Everybody in these parts has seen him!" Abigail shrugged at Jamie. "Seen him last summer in Annapolis, and then up t' the weddin' at Snow Hill."

  "When was that?"

  "Christmas." She tapped the pony's fat rump with a switch. "You got a black girl 'spectin' next month, Master Drummond. I'll see you then fer sure."

  "Now wait a moment," the corporal protested. "I'm not done with you, wench!"

  Jamie reined the stallion between the soldier and the midwife. "Mind your tongue, soldier. Mistress Williams is a free woman. She's told you she knows nothing. You're here to protect civilians and to uphold His Majesty's laws, not to harass the citizenry."

  "But she hasn't answered my questions!"

  "She has indeed," Charity soothed. "Do you know the whereabouts of this Brady now, Mistress Williams?"

  "No indeedy! Don't know—don't care!" Her dark eyes met Jamie's. "But if I hear of him, I'll let you know, Master Drummond. Will that be all right?"

  "Capital! Good day to you,
Abigail." Jamie set his heels into the black's sides and the animal leaped ahead, followed by Charity's mare. Charity scrambled to hold her seat.

  "What's all this talk about smugglers?" she demanded when the midwife was out of sight behind them. "I haven't seen any people! What's there to smuggle?"

  Jamie reined his animal to a walk beside her, ignoring the corporal. "You must understand, Miss Caroline, that these are the Colonies. We must import everything needed to sustain civilization. Cloth, dishes, cookware, shoes, farm implements, tools of every kind, almost everything you can imagine, all come to us from Mother England. Naturally, the Colonies are expected to pay a tariff on all such goods. And naturally, the Colonies may only sell to and buy from England. We owe this as gratitude to our King and country.

  "The smugglers, on the other hand, are common criminals who find ways to avoid the tax. They go out in small boats and bring goods into the Colonies from foreign ships. They also purchase goods from England and sell them to unscrupulous people here. It's a nasty business, and a very profitable one—so I've been told."

  "But the people who buy from the smugglers—they must be dishonest too. They're breaking the law by purchasing untaxed goods," Charity observed.

  "Exactly. And, sad to say, there are many of them. The Chesapeake Bay stretches for hundreds of miles. It's impossible for His Majesty's authorities to guard all the inlets and rivers, all the shoreline and open water." Jamie turned toward the corporal. "Although I'm certain Captain Halifax has made great inroads on the scum."

  "Not as much as he'd like, sir, and that's fer certain," the man admitted. "They's hard to catch. Oh, we hang one now and then, but fer every one we bring to justice, three more take his place. It's a bad business, all right."

  Ahead, the path was lined with split-rail fencing. "We're fine now, Corporal," Jamie said. "You can return to your duty. The house is just ahead."

  Disappointed, the man touched his forelock and reined in his horse. "If yer sure, sir."

  "Those were your orders, I believe." Jamie waited until the corporal turned back and then grinned at Charity. "It's impossible for you to keep that little trap shut long, isn't it?"

  "Never mind that. Why didn't you turn me in when you had the chance? And what has Father Brady to do with the smugglers?"

  "Brady? He's a harmless old sod. He's more concerned with saving souls than dodging redcoats. They want to question him about some boy they captured in Annapolis. I suppose they're on another Catholic hunt. It's easy to blame them for whatever is going wrong at the moment. You'd be wise to change your own religion and become a good Protestant. You'll find a husband easier."

  "I will not! And what business is it of yours?" Charity shook the reins and the mare broke into a jerky trot. "Father Brady saved my life! He's a saint! I'd do anything for him, anything at all!"

  Several barking dogs ran out of the farmyard to greet them; Jamie's laughter was nearly lost in the commotion. Chickens scattered before the horses' hooves, and a boy ran out to take their animals. His blue eyes took in the condition of Charity's clothing and he grinned widely.

  Jamie dismounted and took Charity about the waist, swinging her down. "Thank you for the day, Mistress Caroline. I enjoyed it immensely. I can see that time spent with you won't ever be boring!" His lips brushed hers in a quick kiss and he set her lightly on her feet, stepping back out of her reach.

  Charity rubbed at her mouth in anger. "Thank you for nothing!" she stormed. "Next time, perhaps I can teach you to swim!" She turned on her heel and went into the house, trying to ignore the pointed stares of the servants.

  "So there'll be a next time!" he called after her.

  Charity bit down on an oath and hurried up the steps to change her ruined clothing. Why hadn't Jamie betrayed her? And why had he acted so strangely in front of Captain Halifax? Lady Deale had been right. She'd put Jamie out of her mind!

  Stripping off her skirt and underthings, she dropped them to the polished floor of her room and rummaged in the chest for something else to put on. Jamie's behavior continued to haunt her. Had he been putting on an act to protect her? Or was he a lisping coward? Neither seemed to ring true. What was it then? What?

  She buttoned up a fresh gown and set the ruined boots on the bricks on the fireplace. She had to stop thinking about Jamie Drummond and concentrate on her own future! Somehow, she didn't think it would be easy.

  * * *

  At the evening meal, Charity asked Elizabeth about the priest. "I was afraid the soldiers were looking for me, but they never looked twice. They were asking about Father Brady. Why would they think a priest could lead them to the smugglers?"

  Lady Deale glanced up from her plate. Although the table was heavily laden, she was a sparse eater. She laid down the heavy silver fork and sighed. "It would be better, Caroline, if you did not trouble yourself with such problems." She waved to a servant, and the girl came forward with a black velvet box. Lady Deale indicated Caroline, and the maid handed it to her. "It's a gift. Open it, child."

  With a cry of delight, Charity raised the lid of the beautiful box. Inside, on a bed of damask silk, laid a string of glowing pearls. "Oh!" Puzzled, she looked at Elizabeth. "Why...?" The child's heart within her leaped. "For me?"

  "Of course they're for you. A young lady needs lovely things. Pearls should never be worn by an old woman. Enjoy them, my dear. They'll glow against your skin." Lady Deale blinked away a tear. She refused to become maudlin, like some old fool.

  Clutching the box, Charity flew around the table and embraced Elizabeth. "Oh, thank you! Thank you!" she exclaimed. "They're the most wonderful things I've ever seen!"

  "Poppycock," Elizabeth scoffed, but the annoying weakness in her eyes persisted. "And I'll send James the bill for today's ruined outfit. He can better afford it than I." She presented her cheek for Charity's kiss. "Stop fussing, child. They're only pearls, and secondhand ones at that. My second husband gave them to me thirty years ago."

  Charity's fingers trembled as she tried to fasten the pearls about her neck. "Oh... I can't. Will you do it for me, please?"

  Grumbling, Elizabeth secured the silver clasp. "There. I knew it. See for yourself. They were made for you."

  Charity ran to the mirror over the hunt table and stared at the image in the flickering candlelight. A stranger looked back, a stranger with her features, wearing beautiful pearls and a gown out of a fairy tale. Charity held her breath, afraid that the bubble would break, and it would all disappear.

  The image seemed to waver; from far away came the sound of children's laughter. Charity's eyes dilated; her fingertips touched the glowing pearls. The past rushed over her.

  The room receded until it seemed she stood again on a narrow cobblestone lane. Stagnant water lay in the ditch beneath the overhanging houses; the body of a dead cat added to the foul smell of the fetid street. The shrieks and jeers of children rang in her ears.

  She'd fought with all her might against them but they'd taken her treasure from her just the same. Knocked to the cobblestones, she curled into a tight ball and clenched her teeth to keep from crying.

  Drops of cold rain soaked her thin dress; the awful damp of the stones chilled her flesh to the bone. Cautiously she uncurled her limbs, rubbed her eyes. On hands and knees she began to search frantically... and then saw it. A ruby bead lay between the muddy stones, a single paste fragment of her beautiful necklace.

  "Caroline! Caroline, what ails you? Are you ill?" Elizabeth shook her. "Caroline!"

  Charity took a deep breath and the shadow faded. The warmth of the Tidewater house drove back the old demons of cold and fear. "Oh... I'm all right... really." She blinked and turned to Lady Deale. "I'm just tired. Is it all right if I go up to bed?"

  "Of course. You'll feel fine in the morning. The squire is riding over tomorrow. You'll want to look your best for him. Wear the pink. And remember, don't talk too much. It's not your mind he's interested in." She motioned to a serving girl. "See Miss Caroline up to her room."
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br />   Charity allowed herself to be fussed over and tucked into bed. The memories were very close. Stubbornly she pushed them back into the darkest corners of her mind. They'd not haunt her. She'd not let them. All that was gone. As her mother was gone... killed in the fire that swept the tavern while she was in prison.

  Tomorrow the squire would come. And she'd do her best to enchant him. She must stick to her plan. She must. Nothing would drag her back to what she'd left behind. Not her own weakness, and not Jamie Drummond with his sweet lying mouth and searching hands. She'd found a way up and nothing on earth would keep her from it.

  She stroked the pearls at her throat. Let them laugh. She'd sleep with them on if she liked. They were real, not paste like the ruby necklace that actor had given her mother so long ago. Real pearls were better than a child's fancy. But deep inside, an old ache twisted. Paste or not, she had loved them. A single tear slipped down her cheek, a last payment for a child's ruined dream.

  Chapter 5

  Life on Widow's Endeavor was so different from life in her stepfather's tavern, it was as if she had suddenly been transported to the moon, instead of the Maryland Colony. Her first weeks had been so full of lessons that Charity had little time to explore the plantation, or the activities conducted there. With the ripening of the Tidewater summer, all that changed.

  It was impossible not to become involved in the day-to-day routine of Widow's Endeavor. Just beyond the house stretched the gardens. There, flowers and fruit trees and vegetables grew in glorious abundance. Beyond that, and through a line of stately cedars, lay a rolling meadow with sheep and cattle.

  Charity liked to walk there and lean against the split-rail fence, watching the young lambs frolic in the deep grass. The air was heavy with the scent of honeysuckle; it smelled like heaven.

  Sometimes curious lambs would come near the fence and stare at her, cocking their heads and bleating. It never failed to make her laugh and to bleat back at them.

  This afternoon, she was particularly glad to enjoy the peace of her secret place. The squire had come calling. They had had tea, as usual, and he had questioned her closely about her home in England and her family. Lady Deale had answered most of his inquiries in her matter-of-fact way, and he seemed to be satisfied. He had been on the brink of proposing when she had excused herself with an imaginary headache. As soon as his carriage rolled down the lane, she had run here. She needed to think, to be absolutely certain, before she made an irrevocable commitment.