by Regina Darcy
Table of Content
PROLOGUE
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
EPILOGUE
BONUS CHAPTER 1:THE CAPTAIN’S REDEMPTION
BONUS CHAPTER 2:THE BUESTOCKING & THE VISCOUNT (also part of 15 story boxset)
KEEP IN TOUCH!
Copyright © Regina Darcy 2017
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher and writer except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a contemporary work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
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PROLOGUE
From her spot on the edge of the worn sea-coloured sofa, Miss Lucy Madison blinked at the man she was to marry the next day.
Richard Armistead was handsome, that was certain. If you liked that cold Nordic sort. His brute strength was legendary around Newhart. But his slender, delicate features and light-blond hair seemed to clash with his powerful figure and towering height. Some of the more silly, superstitious townspeople were known to whisper that giants’ blood ran through his veins. More like Viking blood.
Lucy swallowed. Unfortunately, this was not the only rumour swirling through town about the tall, taciturn thirty-year-old merchant.
Unnerved by the direction of her thoughts, Lucy took a sip of her lukewarm tea. When she had dressed for the ball this morning she had not been expecting to end it with some Earl Grey, well at least not until she was back home. But this meeting left her bereft and tea always fortified one in ones time of need.
Currently, Armistead paced around his bride-to-be like a shark circling a drowning sailor. Lucy did feel a bit as if she had sunk to the bottom of the ocean. Armistead’s entire house seemed to be awash in an azure palette. It was odd. Armistead spent so much time away at sea. Lucy would have guessed that he would prefer to come home to an earthy green or warm red space. Lucy loved the colour, but the unbroken blue theme gave off an unmistakable sense of coldness.
On the opposite end of the sofa, Mrs Annabelle Madison, Lucy’s mother, quietly coughed into her handkerchief. This was surely a signal for someone to stoke the embers of the dying conversation.
Sir Henry Madison, Lucy’s father, coughed in return from his spot in the parlour’s spacious teal armchair. “So, Mr Armistead…you have been an eligible bachelor for some time now.” Sir Madison raised his thick eyebrows and wrinkled his large forehead. “Are you looking forward to married life?”
Lucy heard her mother give a little, almost involuntary, squeak of warning. Sir Madison did not seem to pay any heed.
Armistead marched over to the hearth, where a merry fire blazed. He stared into the flames.
“Why, yes, Sir Madison. I certainly prefer being in a married state to living as a bachelor, however eligible. I have been married prior, as you know.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” Sir Madison sputtered, realising his mistake. “My apologies…I did not mean to bring up…”
“Do not worry.” Armistead turned. He parted his lips. Lucy supposed the expression was meant to be a smile, but it lacked any sort of warmth. It looked more as if Armistead were showing the Madison family his sharp teeth. She took another sip of her lukewarm tea.
“I have not had much luck in the realm of marriage before. But I think this time will be different, Sir Madison.” He nodded at Lucy. “I think this arrangement will be beneficial and successful for all involved.”
“I certainly hope so, Mr Armistead,” Mrs Madison said, with a frightened giggle. Sir Madison and Armistead echoed her laughter.
Lucy struggled to keep her face a mask of good humour. It was all she could do to keep from losing her composure altogether. Armistead’s two previous wives had both perished under rather mysterious circumstances.
And, from the way his blue eyes bore into her from across the room, she had a feeling that she was next.
ONE
Sir Henry Madison gripped the reins tightly as the carriage rumbled away from Armistead’s vast estate. He was not accustomed to driving. Up until the past year, the Madisons had been able to afford a groomsman — which at least had given the struggling aristocratic family the semblance of being well off. Now, they could barely even scrape together enough funds to keep their elderly butler and young, inexperienced housekeeper. As a result, for the most part, the Madisons only rode in the carriage at night, to prevent anyone from witnessing the depth of their change in fortune.
Lucy watched Armistead’s manor house grow smaller and smaller in the distance. The estate was popularly known as Mariner’s Estate. It sat atop a craggy cliff, overlooking the North Sea. Pressing her ear against the window, she could hear the rumble of the waves. Mariner’s Peak was like a wilderness unto itself. There was not a soul around for several miles — no one to hear you if you were to scream.
“I cannot marry him,” Lucy whispered, feeling her stomach tighten with dread. She already knew how her parents would respond.
“What was that?” Sir Madison barked from the front of the carriage.
“I will not marry Mr Armistead.”
“Spinsters cannot be choosers, my dear,” Mrs Madison responded with a sigh.
“I am not a spinster, Mother. I am only twenty years old.”
“You will be twenty-one in a month,” Annabelle Madison said in an accusatory tone. “Now, stop being unreasonable.”
Lucy clutched her mother’s arm.
“Have I ever been unreasonable before? Have I ever exhibited a behaviour that was cause for concern? I know how important it is for me to wed. I want to change the fortune of our family. I would marry anyone else. Anyone.”
“Well, no one else has asked for your hand, my child,” Mrs Madison snapped.
“Very well, then.” Lucy buried her face in her hands. “I am to be a modern Iphigenia.”
“What in heaven’s name is she talking about, Sir Madison?” her mother asked.
Sir Madison turned back to face his wife and daughter, a tired expression on his face. “She’s saying that she is to be a human sacrifice, dear.”
“It’s from the Iliad,” Lucy murmured into her palms.
Mrs Madison shook her head. “This is the thanks we get for all those years of tutors? Moping and silly classical references! Think of your three younger siblings for a moment! If you do not marry Mr Armistead tomorrow, what will become of them? What will become of our family?”
Lucy sighed. Lionel, Lila, and Leonora were all beneath the age of sixteen. If she did not marry well, their prospects would be dashed, and the Madisons would continue to sink into a quagmire of financial ruin. Lucy had no response to her mother regarding this very valid, but scarcely comforting point.
“And, dearest, no one is going to sacrifice you,” Sir Madison interjected dryly. “This is Newhart, not ancient Greece.”
“Both of Mr Armistead’s two previous wives died under suspicious circumstances,” Lucy replied. “In town, they say that he once threw a butcher’s apprentice through a wall because he didn’t like the way the lad looked at him.” Her blue eyes widened. “And…whenever he rides around Newhart, don’t you see how horribly he whips his poor horse?”
She closed he
r eyes, imagining the towering, straight-backed figure, riding crop raised and clutched in his gloved hand, striking the poor creature’s flank.
“But, dear, you are not a horse.” Sir Madison had the triumphant tone of a man who believes he has clinched an argument.
“And you must not believe everything that you hear!” Mrs Madison interjected. “He seems like a perfectly respectable gentleman, not some sort of murderer or ruffian!”
“Mother, I would hardly say that we know the character of the man well enough to deem him a murderer or not,” Lucy said. From what she could gather, the whole transaction had been arranged in a rather slipshod manner just last week.
Lucy had seen Armistead from afar at many a social function, but they had scarcely interacted before he approached her father for her hand in marriage. No one in town could imagine why the reclusive, wealthy merchant had set his sights on the skinny, penniless Madison girl, other than her aristocratic heritage.
Lucy had her own suspicions. A family in less dire financial straits might not be as desperate to see their daughter married off, regardless of the mysterious suitor’s wealth.
“We scarcely know him at all,” she repeated quietly.
“Exactly! So you must rid yourself of such gloomy assumptions.”
There was no sense in arguing more. Lucy pressed her throbbing temple against the carriage’s cool windowpane.
***
Crumbling, stony Mariner’s Peak loomed against the cloudy night sky. Lucy shivered as the wind whipped her light hair loose of its bun. Below her, the stormy North Sea thrashed and frothed against the rocks. As she stared at the water, she could feel a dark presence forming behind her. She was too frightened to turn around and face it. All she knew was that it was coming for her.
Lucy took a deep breath and jumped into the raging waters below.
The instant before her feet hit the swelling surface of the sea, Lucy sat up abruptly in bed. She clasped a hand over her clammy forehead and glanced over at the other side of the bed, where her two younger sisters slept. Lila and Leonora were a tangle of messy hair and blankets. They had not been disturbed by her nightmare.
Without even thinking, Lucy slipped out of bed and coiled her long, pale hair into a knot. Then, she dressed herself. As she slipped into her practical, dark navy dress, she tried to keep from staring at her best gown — the periwinkle muslin she was to wear to the wedding ceremony in only a few hours.
Then, with a final glance at her two sleeping sisters, Lucy wrapped herself in a thick, woollen shawl and strode out the door.
The hallway was frigid. As the family’s financial situation had deteriorated, the Madison’s manor had fallen into disrepair. The house, once considered the jewel of Newhart, had been reduced to a draughty, dilapidated wreck of faded furniture and peeling wallpaper.
Lucy bit her lip as she crept down the stairs. She had to get far away from this, the embodiment of her misfortune. This wreck of a house was the reason she would be forced to marry the town’s own Blue Beard. Her fate was to be sealed just after dawn, like that of a condemned man.
The front door opened with a loud creak. Lucy froze. Surely, the whole family would awake at such a racket and come down and catch her in the act.
What act was this, though? Was she truly running away? Lucy considered this for a moment, turning the idea over in her mind.
She blinked out at the cloudy night sky. Yes. Running away was her only option now. As she stepped outside and made her way down the trampled path toward town, she began ticking off justifications.
Her parents would be furious at her betrayal, but she was relying on them becoming concerned enough for her safety that they would reconsider their stance and (at least partially) forgive her… eventually.
Fleeing would ruin her marriage prospects forever—proper ladies simply did not disappear and go running about the countryside without a chaperone. But there where worse things in life than becoming an old maid. Like death!
At least if she ran away, she would live to see spinsterhood.
There was no risk that her parents would marry Lila or Leonora off to Armistead in her place — the family was desperate, but the girls were far too young.
But how will they support themselves?
At the stray thought, Lucy bit her lower lip and almost turned back. Besides the call of duty, she was the oldest and it was her responsibility to ensure the future of her sisters. Then she remembered Armistead’s cold eyes. Somehow, she just knew he would be the death of her.
As she strode into the darkness, Lucy began to smell salt and hear the slap of the waves. She approached the local riverside dock. In the daytime, it was bustling with sailors, merchants, and longshoremen, all swirling around the crates of commodities.
Tonight, there seemed to be only one ship with any activity around it. Lucy hid behind a large box and observed men loading cargo onto the ship, which bore the name the Golden Griffin (which, in her opinion, sounded rather ridiculous). She positioned herself behind a jumble of empty barrels lined up and waiting for transport onto the ship.
She knew that most of the ships made domestic runs to other parts of England. (What little she knew about the business she had learned when Sir Madison had stooped to attempting to enter the merchant game a couple of years prior.)
Lucy raised her eyebrows. An ingenious scheme had just struck her. She could stow away aboard the ship. Surely, a journey to Edinburgh or Plymouth would not take too long.
And a quick jaunt around the British Isles might be just the thing to keep her safe from the Blue Beard her parents wanted her to wed.
Peering about to make certain that none of the sailors could see her, she heaved open the top of one of the empty barrels and slipped inside.
TWO
Lucy took a deep breath, inhaling the stuffy air. She had been sitting in darkness, concealed within the barrel, for about an hour. With each second that passed, her resolve crumbled a little bit more.
She listened to the sailors work diligently around her, picking up and hauling off the rest of the cargo. Lucy pressed her eye to the tiny crack in the barrel. She could see that the sailors were nearly finished with their work. Soon, they would come for her barrel.
A grim sense of calm washed over her. She began to see her plan more clearly. What on Earth did she think she was doing? Her idea was mad. There was no way she could undertake a sea voyage. What if she was discovered and marooned somewhere or thrown off the ship entirely? What if the vessel sank in a storm? What if she became stuck in the hold of the ship and starved to death? There were so many disastrous potential outcomes to sailing away from her troubles.
She was far better off just hiding around town for a few days, until the wedding was called off and Armistead went off on one of his voyages.
Lucy pressed her palms against the lid of the barrel, preparing to push it away and break out of her cylindrical, wooden confinement.
Then, something heavy smacked against her hiding place. Lucy’s forehead thumped against the opposite side of the barrel; she clutched her mouth to keep from crying out in pain.
“Are you certain you want to back out of our deal now, Captain Preston?”
Lucy flinched. She recognised the deep voice immediately. The speaker was Richard Armistead. His voice was calm, but held a taut, subtle note of anger.
“Mr Armistead, I do not sail for liars and cheats.” The second speaker was a man with a somewhat slurred lilt to his voice.
Something thumped into Lucy’s barrel once more. She held her breath, terrified that it would tip over and break open.
“You dishonour me, Captain Preston.”
Lucy peered out the hole in the barrel. In the moonlight, she could just make out Armistead’s massive figure. He was holding an equally tall, leaner man by his collar. “You will get the rest of your payment when you return.”
“That’s not what we agreed to,” Preston said. His back was to Lucy, but she could hear from his listless ma
nner of speech that he was rather drunk. Armistead shoved Preston to the ground and laughed. Lucy was not terribly surprised to see her supposed fiancé behave in such a manner. It was known throughout town that Armistead had not clawed his way to the top of the local merchant class based on his kindness and compassion.
“You are not in a position to be dictating the terms of this bargain,” Lucy’s betrothed cackled. “I have heard quite a lot about you from my friends in London, Captain Preston, none of it good. Be thankful that I am willing to give you any down payment at all.”
Lucy watched as Preston, whose features were obscured in the dim light, struggled to stand up. He failed utterly and ended up sprawled on the planks.
“That is nonsense. We had an agreement.”
“That was before I learned of your last disastrous voyage.” Armistead’s tone took on a hint of relish. “Notwithstanding the time you lost your entire cargo — your whole crew. You could not even save your brother, could you?”
The Captain’s hands curled into fists. “What did you say?”
“I said…you let your own brother die, you bloody, drunken fool.” Lucy watched Armistead stride over to her hiding space. He rested his arm on the lid of her barrel. She quaked with terror as he drummed his fingers on the lid. Could he hear her breathing?
“Why should I give you the benefit of the doubt when it comes to my shipment? If you fulfil your end of the bargain, you will receive the rest of your payment. And that’s that.”
With that, the drumming stopped. Lucy took a deep breath. Armistead must have stalked away. Now it was time for her to break out of her hiding spot and find shelter before…
The barrel lurched. Lucy’s stomach twisted.
She was too late. If she made a scene now, it would likely prompt Armistead to come rushing back and demand an explanation. She watched through the cracks in the barrel as the coils of rope and rough planks and pieces of cargo rushed by. The last glimpse she saw of land was the fallen figure of Captain Preston, still sitting on the docks, looking at Armistead walking away.