“Will you come sit by me, Katherine?” he said, sounding very young.
“I must finish my wine. We have plenty of time, Ambrose. Have little more, while you wait.”
He had that faraway look that Kate recognized. It came often during the last few times they had met. She poured him more brandy-wine, and he took another long pull from the glass. Kate smiled as she pretended to sip at her own.
In a moment, his blinking got longer and deeper.
“Finish your wine, Ambrose, so we might be together.”
She tried to add a French endearment, but it only came out in a whisper. Kate couldn’t force herself to do anymore. She could not use her mother’s tender words to do this sad work. How could she still miss her so much?
Kate swallowed hard and blinked back tears.
He drank the rest in one sloppy gulp, burped, and then blushed. In another moment, he slowly fell back like he was melting into a drug-induced sleep.
Kate took a moment to savor her relief; she sighed as she glanced around, trying to reinforce what she must do. If this was to be a sick room, she must make changes.
The linens were already dirty and odious smells came from the chamber pot. The cabin didn’t have far to go to be convincing, she decided. But she couldn’t stay here like this.
I will come back in the early morning for the rest of the plan, she thought.
Slipping her boots off, she silently ran back to the surgery. She tore the pins from her hair, not looking in the mirror until she was sure she would not see her mother there. But she took more care with the dress. Kate held it up at arm’s length. It was still beautiful. She didn’t like it anymore.
Her first thought was to tear it to shreds and throw it overboard, but Ambrose Standish had done something like that to the others. He tore at her mother’s gowns in frustration, anger, guilt, and . . . hate?
Kate took deep breaths to calm down her own anger. She folded the gown, then put it down on the bed. She gazed at it, her hand poised to touch it, but she could not at first. Then her hand fell away, for she felt so weary, and just couldn’t keep it up anymore.
Finally, she put the gown back into the barrel.
Someday, she decided, I might want to wear it again.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 50 - Discovered
In the morning, he was still in a fitful sleep and could not fight his way free. Kate knew she should hate him for killing her mother, but that had been so long ago. And she had blamed herself even then for doing nothing to help. When she finally remembered, when she spoke of it all with Fiya, the malice had all drained away.
Like lancing a fetid wound, she thought.
He had sold her into slavery, true, but that was all over now. She felt pity at his weakness, and she despised him well enough. But why waste more emotion on someone so vile? But she reveled in what control she had over him now.
Now he was helpless and useless.
“How does it feel, Ambrose?”
She intended to keep him that way until Corsica perhaps, until Sir Edward could confirm her story. Or maybe the authorities in every British port were looking for Ambrose also. She wasn’t sure what would come next; she hadn’t gotten that far in the plan.
Kate knew the rest would be unpleasant: She would have to keep forcing the stuff down his throat to keep him under. And worse, she would have to keep a pan under him for body waste. And he already smelled terrible. She wasn’t about to wash him, nor his things. Besides, the smell helped prove her point and kept people from probing too deep.
Then there were the officers and Lady Catherine—Kate wasn’t sure what she would do about them. But it turned out as well as she had hoped, for no officers seemed to notice or care much if Ambrose was ill and confined.
Lady Catherine sent a maid to inquire, but Kate told her story as planned: He was taken with a recurring bout of something most vile. Better not to mention the cause or the cure.
“Not in polite society,” she explained in a whisper. It wasn’t really a lie, his recurring bout of something vile was himself and the things that he did. The cure, she was certain, was probably hanging.
But after that, nothing was said, and they reached Corsica within a few days. It took some time for Lady Catherine to gather her things and debark. Then the first officer found Kate.
“He is disembarking as well?” Mr. Seeley asked her. “You will be wanting to go yourself, I suppose.”
“He’s still out of sorts,” Kate said. “He can’t walk on his own.”
“What a gentile way of putting it, Miss. Out of sorts,” Mr. Seeley said. “Just what, pray tell, is this affliction of his?”
She glanced down and at least had the grace to blush. She said very quietly, “I would rather not say. Only that he should not be left on his own and he really must not be moved. It’s not contagious.”
The man’s face was frozen from practiced discipline, but the disgust was still plain in his voice. “I trust our good Lady gave you leave to stay and . . . to attend to the man?”
Kate wasn’t quite sure what to say, but then the bosun strolled up.
Mr. Gordon said, “Sounds like the pox to me. Wonder if she gave it to him or the other way round?”
The first officer flamed red. “That is enough of that, Mr. Gordon. You will show the proper respect, if you please.” Then Mr. Seeley said to Kate, “You say he is unable to leave?”
“At the moment, he’s quite indisposed. He’d have to be carried, and I could not move him alone, and wouldn’t wish the task on anyone else.”
The man thought for a moment, but there was no answer on his face.
The bosun said, “What will you do, sir?”
“Can not wait forever for his blasted comfort, Mr. Gordon. And his Lady is gone, she will not make a squawk if we ship him ashore.”
Kate opened her mouth to protest, but he put up a placating hand. “We will wait to take on supplies, then we sail back to where we were intended to wait before we started this cursed diversion.”
“Aye, sir,” the bosun said and got on about his own business.
Mr. Seeley added, “If he is not better by the time we must leave, I might help carry him off myself, Miss.”
This would not do. With Sir Edward not here in Corsica, Ambrose must remain on board. And me too, she thought. She said, “I would think you would want to wait, just in case he’s contagious. You don’t want the reputation for being a plague ship. Confined as he is, the sickness would be confined as well.”
She held her breath, for if Ambrose was contagious, the same might be said of her. She hoped the man wouldn’t make that connection.
Mr. Seeley looked surprised. “Oh, I had not . . . Do you . . . Very well, what would you suggest?”
“Leave him to me, if you will. If you must sail, you must. I understand about duty, sir. I am sure the same is true of Lady Catherine.”
That seemed to please him well enough. He rocked on his feet as he made the decision, and then flinched at the pain in his heels and his toes.
“If we sail with him aboard, you must stay to tend him,” he warned. “I want to make sure that is understood.”
“I understand, Mr. Seeley,” she said. “That is more than fair.”
“So our fine Lady Catherine was taken with the man, and you are left to pay the price. I wonder what the Lady has to say about losing one of her maids for so long.”
She shrugged. “One maid is much like another to ladies of her station, it seems.”
He rubbed his nose, adding under his breath, ”Or what our new captain would say about the whole affair.”
Kate’s eyebrow rose up as she said, “Do you now?”
He grinned. “No, you are right. I do not care at that, which is well, as it is none of my business.”
“Just as well,” she said. “Come see me in the surgery, I’ll have some onion juice for your boots.”
“Miss?”
She recited:
“For shoes too
tight, onion is right.
Juice heel and toes, avoid eyes and nose.”
He grunted, then tipped his hat, and he too got on with his business. Kate felt like such a coward just then and thought to tell them the truth. But she had other problems. Like what to feed Ambrose Standish. He hadn’t eaten in days. And his odor was quite infamous now. At first, she had set out dried flowers and burned dried herbs in his room, but now it only added to the pall.
“It’s my mess, I should have to clean it up.”
“What was that, Miss?” Mr. Seeley said.
She didn’t realize the first officer had come back again and was so close behind. He had a cigar now and seemed to be savoring it more than trying to catch her in deceit.
“Nothing, just complaining about the woes of a healer,” she said.
“Right, well, see to it then. You have three or four days to cure him. Then you must sail with us, or he is over the side.”
She grinned and said, “I think you mean see him ashore, sir?”
Mr. Seeley saluted.
Three or four days, she thought. She was running out of her magic elixir. Kate decided that she would have to make yet another batch. Did she have enough goodies left? Probably not enough—perhaps she would have to use the opium in Mrs. Pinkley’s tonic straight. If Ambrose woke up addicted, it would be a problem for him of her making.
“I can live with that. A bit of suffering on his part might be well deserved.”
In the end, it didn’t matter, for in two days time, a dispatch vessel came in. This one, it was said, brought their captain and a few of his chosen crew from the Stalwart.
The timbre of the scuttlebutt among the crew was excited, for this captain was known to have made himself a rich man with his share of the spoils. And it was said he was a good seaman, and fair enough with his crew, if stern with their duty.
The more Kate listened, the bigger the legend of Sir Edward Lindsay grew. It made her feel unworthy, and she hoped he hadn’t regretted his decision when it came to their union.
She hid in her usual spot as the jolly boat came over. But she could not make out the faces. She didn’t have much time to primp, but Kate suddenly wondered if she should go change her dress. Or comb her hair. Or take a bath with more water than just a bucketful and maybe put in some dried blossoms to smell nice and . . .
Then a head came over the rail. It was Dr. Llewellyn. She waved in greeting, but knew he couldn’t see her. Still, she was glad to see him.
The next to come up was Mr. Murray. It was beginning to feel like home.
Kate got out of her perch and slowly made her way to stand near the officers watching down from the quarterdeck. She could feel their tension, or maybe it was her own bouncing back.
The officers had only known of this captain by the sea-worthy tales and by the woman they thought was his wife. Kate knew it would all have to be faced with patience, for she must wait her turn. But right now, she could not keep still. She started to pace just a bit as the officers started climbing down to the main deck below.
The first officer turned at her motion, but said nothing. She knew he was relieved that the matter of Standish would soon be out of his hands. He nodded once to her, and then went down to stand with the other officers waiting to greet their new captain.
Sir Edward came up and over as they piped him aboard. It was his due as captain.
Kate grinned down at him, though he saw nothing of her, she knew. The officers assembled for inspection. He exchanged the pleasantries with the chain of command, glancing around in appreciation.
Kate edged to the rail, still on the deck above. She knew his eyes were seeing his new ship, and wondered if she was in his mind at all.
“You there! What’s taking so long?” she yelled down.
She could hear the hiss of the intake of breath from the sailors and officers alike. He glanced up with a look that broached no nonsense.
The sassy Irish wench called out, “Sure and you’ll be looking up here when you should be getting down to your business. You know who you are, and you know what you’re supposed to be doing. You’ll find no sympathy here at all for slapdash ways. Or is it slipshod? Never mind, you best be on about your business, my lad, for there are things here that need your attention.”
He smiled at that.
“I see that all is well on my ship,” he said and tipped his hat to the first officer. Then Mr. Seeley was quickly forgotten as the captain looked up again and called out, “So tell me, how fares my lady wife? I see the long voyage alone has not dampened your temperament.”
One of the officers opened his mouth to tell him that Lady Catherine had gone ashore, but Kate beat him to it with: “The Lady is ill-tempered, it seems, and terribly mean, but I expect that my mood is about to improve.”
The captain saluted. “Then I will attend to that business shortly.”
See that you do, she thought, and couldn’t stop her smile.
The first officer and the bosun turned to stare up at Kate. She held out her hands in idle offering, the closest she could do to an apology for now. She said, “I suppose that will all be soon enough.” Then she left them there to stare after.
* * * * *
After a thorough inspection, the officers gathered together on the quarterdeck.
"This is your wife, sir?" Mr. Seeley said, looking at Kate with great doubt.
The bosun was looming behind with not a word to say. Sir Edward looked at the men with no smile on his face.
Kate quickly spoke up. "Your cabin was taken over by our honored guest, sir. These fine officers have been kind enough to indulge my cowardice and let me avoid the woman at all cost."
"Guest?" he said with obvious distaste.
"The esteemed Lady Catherine, late of a voyage to the exotic shores of Corsica by way of Gibraltar. She’s going to attend to her brother who has military standing and the gout, it seems."
Mr. Gordon said, “Captain, I assure you that we thought— We had every intention—“
Mr. Seeley butted in, ”Sir, we did not realize that—“
The captain waved them both to silence. "You should have attended our guest, Kate. It was your duty as my wife."
She took a step back and included them all with a sweep of her hand. "These gentlemen did better than I could have done, and if I were you, I’d be glad of it, sir.”
“And how should I be that?” Sir Edward said, crossing his arms on his chest.
Kate noticed that his jaw was quite tight.
The bosun and first officer exchanged dreadful glances. She spoke like Mr. Whayles, with a quick rhythm and a Scottish barb: “The woman was demanding as ever she could be, and she complained with a constancy that the west wind would envy. If it was up to me, she’d a been towed below in a surly boat, and the louder her whining above the wail of the wind, the longer the tow rope would be, sir."
Sir Edward wiped at his face wearily, trying to hide his smile. Mr. Gordon, another Scot, turned away with a grunting, choking noise.
“Surly boat?” Mr. Seeley said.
“Probably her own creation,” Sir Edward said absently. “She’s American, you see.”
Kate added, “It’s a boat that you pull behind for the people who seem too surly to blend in with the rest. It’s better than setting them adrift when marooning just won’t do for the lack of an island or two. I thought being British, you would understand the concept better than most. Still, there it is.”
Someone cleared his throat, but no one said anything for a moment.
"I have quarters below, sir, I expect you will find some as well,” she said. “Now I must let you be on about your business. When you are done, you might want to see something I found on my own.”
“What might that be?” Sir Edward said.
Suddenly, someone staggered onto the deck. He looked liked he’d been hit on the head, and perhaps left for dead. He certainly smelled so.
“Ah, there it is now,” said Kate, pointing. She looked at S
ir Edward as she added, “I’ve heard it said that you’re a clever man, sir. I expect you will know what to do.”
He didn’t do anything at first. They all watched in fascination, for Standish was not moving about like a sober man. Or a man at all, but more like a lumbering bear, fresh out of a long-stale hibernation.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 51 - Captured
Standish staggered back from the overwhelming brightness of the daylight. His head felt as big and thumping as a pumpkin floating a foot above his shoulders. When he tried to swallow, it hurt. But he felt another pain, a most desperate sensation.
His bladder burned with urgency. He stepped toward the rail to relieve himself. Then he saw her standing in the small crowd of officers, singled out strangely by a single sunray breaking through the clouds. The golden light seemed to soak into her hair and shoulders until she seemed to glow.
Was she real?
The vision made him halt. “Katherine?” he whispered.
He blinked to be sure.
“Arrest that man,” Sir Edward snapped.
Standish’s eyes grew wide. “My God, Kate! And Lindsay.”
Standish swore some more and turned to run. Anywhere would do; he only knew to escape. He made a few awkward steps before he tripped on a bucket of swill water. He went sprawling to the deck on top of the spill, and slid a bit more on his side.
To his own great horror, he was caught. And worse, to his great humiliation, he lost all control of his bladder. He watched in fascination as the dark stain grew on the front of his trousers.
The sailors who were reaching to grab him shied back.
Kate turned away. The sun was again behind the clouds.
Sir Edward immediately gave the order to throw Standish in chains as far down below as a man could go.
“Toss some water over him first, he stinks.” Then he turned to his wife. “We will talk about this later, Kate,” he said, but she was all ready heading to greet the others.
The Wilde Flower Saga: A Contrary Wind (Historical Adventure Series) Page 50