Charity's Cross

by Marylu Tyndall

  “Pirates!” Edmund dashed toward them, grabbed a spoon from the tray, and thrust it before him.

  Rose and Elias both chuckled. “Guess it runs in the family,” she said.

  “But is he here?” Elias glanced out the doorway.

  “Nay. He had business in town, something to do with his ship. But he’ll be here tonight.”

  “Good. I look forward to catching up. In the meantime, I should gather the men and make my presence known as soon as possible.”

  “Not today, Elias. You must rest. Tonight we shall celebrate your safe arrival. There’s plenty of time tomorrow to save the world.”

  Elias smiled. “You know me too well, sister dear.”

  Rose winced and pressed a hand on her stomach.

  “What is it?” Rising, he knelt by her side. “The babe?”

  “’Tis nothing. I get these pains now and then.”

  “You’ve endured far too much stress, Rose.” He kissed her hand. “But you have naught to fear now. You are not alone anymore.”

  “God has always been with me, Elias.”

  “Indeed. And now He has brought me to you as well.”

  “Yes, he has.” Smiling, she tugged on a strand of his hair. “Just look at you. Hair a mess, shirt wrinkled. No wonder the lady ran upstairs.”

  “I beg your pardon, milady, but I have been at sea.” He stood and raised a brow.

  “Indeed, you look the part of a pirate.”

  Edmund dashed through the room, spoon waving before him. “Papa Pirate! Papa Pirate!”

  Rose laughed. “Your son gives you away. Now, go rest, bathe, and afterward, when you fetch Miss Westcott for the party, explain things to her. From the way she looked at you, she deserves the truth.”

  He nodded. “But first, I must take this lad on my horse.”

  “Yay! Yay! Papa!” Abandoning piracy, Edmund dashed into Elias’ arms.

  He welcomed the boy in a tight embrace. Oh, how he’d missed him.

  Now, if only Charity would grow to love him too.

  ♥♥♥

  A hot bath never felt so marvelous. Charity couldn’t even remember the last bath she’d had. Months ago, back at Hemsley House in Portsmouth. She’d been spoiled living in the luxury Lord Villemont provided, a prison of gowns, jewels, and delicacies. He’d denied her nothing, save love, happiness, and safety. Funny how no amount of luxury made up for the lack of those three things.

  Yet, now as the layers of salt and grime washed from her skin and hair, her thoughts were consumed with Elias. And his son! A plethora of battling emotions stormed through her—betrayal that he’d withheld such vital information, shock, of course, and, if she admitted it, pain at the deception. Yet stronger than all of those was the way her heart swelled at the look on the child’s face as he ran to his father and the way Elias absorbed him in his arms as if the boy were all that mattered in the world.

  Now she found herself more than curious as to the identity of his mother, and what had caused the pious preacher to defy his God and produce a child out of wedlock. Indeed, just when she thought she had this man figured out, he never failed to surprise her.

  “Miss…Miss…” The maid’s voice burst into her musings, bringing Charity’s gaze up to the young lady standing beside the tub with a towel in hand. “You best get dressed, Miss. They’ll be expectin’ you downstairs soon.”

  Charity smiled. She hadn’t heard the girl enter. And though she’d been the same maid who helped her undress and who’d organized filling her tub with warm water, she’d rushed off so quickly Charity hadn’t had time to thank her.

  “I took yer things down to be washed, Miss, but…but there’s blood on…” The girl bit her lip.

  “My chemise, yes. Nothing to worry about. I doubt I’ll need them back, Miss…forgive me, what was your name?”

  “Mable. Miss Mable.” She curtsied.

  Gripping the sides of the porcelain tub, Charity rose and stepped out into the waiting towel, careful to keep her back to the maid, as she had when Mable had helped her undress. The girl scrambled to the bed where she’d laid out a fresh chemise, petticoats, stockings, and a lavender silk skirt with brocaded multicolor flowers, double-ruffled sleeves, and a matching bodice, all trimmed in metallic lace. So thoughtful of Rose to send up such a lovely gown. And to put Charity in such an elegant bedchamber. Rich mahogany furniture filled the large space, including a desk, chest of drawers, bed, and dressing table. Books lined shelves against the wall, while a door opened to a balcony on the other side of the bed where waves of maroon, lemon, and peach drifted inside from the setting sun.

  Mable held up the chemise, and Charity finished drying and dropped the towel. When she’d married Lord Villemont and he’d presented her with her very own lady’s maid, she’d relished having someone help her dress, style her hair, and rush to satisfy her every need. It seemed a luxury only the wealthy could afford and a sign she had finally made it. Yet, the past few months, she’d grown accustomed to fending for herself on the various ships she’d sailed upon. And she rather enjoyed the independence, save for being forced to abandon her stays.

  Mable flung the chemise over Charity’s neck, chattering on about how the gown belonged to her mistress and how she knew it would fit Charity because they had the same figure before Rose had blossomed with child and…

  The woman stopped in mid-sentence, her eyes locked on Charity’s belly. Vapors! Charity had been far too concerned about the scars on her back to realize that, unclad, her condition was all too obvious.

  Red blossomed up the poor girl’s face as she attempted to continue her conversation—this time stuttering. Still, she managed to assist Charity in donning her petticoats, stays, bodice, and finally, skirt, all the while never ceasing to talk, even when she worked on Charity’s hair, pinning it up in a bouquet of curls.

  “If tha’ll be all, Miss, I must be going.” Mable started for the door, refusing to look at Charity.

  “Thank you, Mable. I trust in your discretion as a lady’s maid.”

  “Yes, Miss. None of my business, Miss.” And off she ran, closing the door behind her.

  Charity should leave. Right now before they discovered her secret and threw her out. She could find Josiah and ask him to drive her into town. ’Twas obvious he didn’t trust her and wanted her far away from Elias.

  She didn’t have time to ponder her predicament when a knock sounded on the door. Perhaps ’twas Mable forgetting something, but it wasn’t Mable. It was Elias…

  Not the Elias who captained The Restoration, with his leather breeches, loose white shirt, baldric, and boots, but Elias looking as if he were an earl himself. Black velvet breeches tightened over muscular legs, a gray silk embroidered waistcoat peeked at her from beneath a dark coat with gold metallic trim. A silk cravat bubbled from his neck, above which glistened a smooth jaw and hair neatly combed and tied behind him. But it was his smile that melted her heart, along with the look of utter delight sparkling in his eyes when he saw her.

  And if Charity weren’t so distraught at the moment, she’d fall into his arms.

  “I expect you have some questions for me,” he said, looking rather sheepish for a hero.

  Charity stepped back. “’Tis none of my business.”

  He scanned her and shook his head. “I didn’t think it was possible you could be more beautiful.”

  Oddly, Charity felt a blush rising.

  “The lad is Rachel’s.” He leaned on the door frame and released a sigh.

  “Not yours?”

  “Nay, he’s mine. At least that’s what she said when a year after she left me, she sailed back into my life with a babe in her arms.”

  “So he could be yours.”

  He swallowed. “Yes. ’Twas an indiscretion, a moment of weakness, a foolish mistake from a young man in love who intended to marry the lady.”

  She could only stare at him, at the sorrow lining his face, the shame filling his eyes.

  “What you must think of me.�
�� He lowered his chin.

  “She gave up her child?” Charity could not conceive of such a thing. “What kind of woman gives up her baby?”

  “I imagine the boy would have interfered with her plans to marry fortune and title.”

  “And she’s not seen him since?”

  He stared at her as if confused by her line of questioning. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I should have.”

  “You owe me nothing, Elias.”

  “Ah, but I do.” He took a step toward her. “I had hoped we had an understanding.”

  She, too, had hoped. But in another life, another time, another world, perhaps. Not this one. She fought back tears and gripped the bedpost for support. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was afraid to lose you.” He reached for her hand, caressing it gently, tentatively. She didn’t want him to stop. She longed to tell him that she had no right to judge him when she’d done far worse. In fact, his human frailty only endeared him to her more. But saying that would encourage the feelings between them, mayhap even embolden Elias to ask for that understanding—a courtship she could not accept. This was her chance to dissuade him, the perfect reason to reject his advances and demand he take her back to town.

  He stepped even closer. Looming above her by at least a foot, the strength of his presence undoing her, his natural scent, unfettered by cologne, tingling her senses. “Tell me I have not lost you, Charity.” He reached up to caress her cheek just as the pitter-patter of little feet drummed down the hallway, and Elias’ son darted toward him, grinning. “Papa!”

  Elias scooped him into his arms. A woman, who surely must be the lad’s nanny, came barreling after him, her rotund figure preventing any further speed. “Sorry, Sir, he got away from me again.”

  “Not to worry, Mrs. Norsen,” Elias said. “I know what a handful this little pirate can be.” He tickled the boy, eliciting giggles and squirms.

  “I’m a pirate, Papa?” the boy asked.

  “You’ll always be my little pirate.” Elias kissed him on the cheek.

  The boy pointed toward Charity. “Is she my mama?”

  Chapter 24

  “This is Miss Charity Westcott, Edmund. Charity, Master Edmund Dutton.”

  Charity smiled. “Pleased to meet you Master Dutton.”

  The lad giggled and squirmed in Elias’ arms, then much to his surprise, held out both hands toward Charity. Elias started to force the boy back, when Charity reached and took the boy in her arms, snuggling him against her chest.

  “You’re such a big boy, Edmund. How old are you now, nearly ten?” She winked at Elias.

  Edmund smiled proudly and held up three fingers. “Papa says I’m a man, not a boy.”

  “Indeed you are.” She drew him close and kissed his forehead. “And just as handsome as your father.”

  Elias blinked and stared at the exchange in wonder. Edmund had never taken to any woman so quickly. Especially not a stranger. It had taken Mrs. Norsen a full month before the boy would allow her to embrace him. Yet here he was nestled against Charity’s bosom, fingering one of those delicious chocolate curls dangling about her neck.

  “Are you coming to the party?” the boy asked. “I like your name.”

  “Only if you are coming as well.” She set him down and brushed a lock of hair from his face.

  Elias turned to the waiting nanny, her face still red with exertion. “We’ll take him down, Mrs. Norsen. I’ll bring him up in an hour for his bedtime.”

  “Very well, Sir.” She leaned toward Edmund. “You be a good boy.” Her scolding tone belied the grin on her lips before she scurried off.

  Edmund straightened his shoulders, slid one of his little hands into Elias’ and the other into Charity’s, and proceeded to lead them down the hall to the top of the stairwell, where sounds of an orchestra rose. Charity cast a smile toward Elias that melted everything within him as they walked, like a family, down the stairs and into a ballroom where a few guests had arrived early.

  A small orchestra consisting of two violins, a harpsichord, flute, cello, and trumpet tuned in the far corner while servants in crisp liveries passed around trays with drinks in crystal glasses.

  Mr. and Mrs. Dodd, who owned the plantation across the island, ran up to him, exclaiming their excitement at seeing him again. Mr. Dodd, tall and lanky, made some snide remark as was his way, while Mrs. Dodd, ever the cheerful saint, expressed her utter joy at seeing such a lovely lady at Elias’ side. Several others joined them with happy greetings and well wishes.

  Each time Elias introduced Charity, he couldn’t help but admire the polite and mannerly way in which she addressed them and answered their questions, all the while including Edmund in the conversation.

  What a treasure! If ’twas possible for Elias to love this lady more, his heart would burst. She had accepted his indiscretion with incredible grace, forgiving him, it would seem, even for his deception. Then, as if that weren’t charitable enough, she’d embraced Edmund, displaying such love and affection he’d not thought possible from a stranger. Would she never cease to amaze him…this mermaid he’d swept from the sea?

  Rose entered into the room, looking rather flushed and uncomfortable, but still a beauty in her green satin gown trimmed in Mechlin lace. Her face lit up upon seeing Elias, and she headed toward him.

  “Brother dear, I thought I only dreamt of your arrival. ’Tis so good to see you. And looking quite dashing, I might add.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she glanced at Charity.

  “I am here till you toss me out, sister.” Elias took her arm and led her to a row of chairs pushed against the wall. “Pray do not tax yourself. I wish you hadn’t thrown such an affair on my behalf.”

  “’Tis nothing. Merely thirty or so close friends, all anxious to see you. Besides, I’ve been so bored without Duncan. Oh, my. Why is it so hot in here?” Withdrawing a handkerchief, she dabbed her neck and glanced at the open doors leading to the veranda. “Mayhap the evening will soon usher in a breeze.”

  “I’m sure it will.” Elias smiled, though it didn’t feel overly warm to him.

  Charity took Edmund’s hand in hers. “Come, Edmund, let’s find your aunt something cool to drink.” And off they went to the refreshment table at the other end of the room as if they’d known each other forever.

  Rose’s gaze followed them before she turned and smiled at Elias. “The boy has taken to her.”

  “Indeed. Quite amazing.” Elias rubbed the back of his neck, then glanced over the large ballroom. Polished parquet floors led to carved wainscoting rising up the walls below floral wallpaper. Tapestries and paintings—some of them, his mother’s—decorated the walls, while bas-relief cherubs and garlands embellished the ceiling from which hung three chandeliers. Chairs and tables had been pushed to the sides to allow room for dancing. “You’ve kept the estate well in Duncan’s absence, Rose. ’Tis a lovely party.”

  Gage and Ballard emerged from the growing crowd and stopped before him, extending their greetings to his sister.

  “What a lovely party, Mrs. Bennett.” Ballard adjusted his cravat and glanced over the room. “’Tis been quite a while since I’ve had the pleasure of such an affair.”

  “You are welcome here anytime, Mr. Ballard. And you as well, Mr. Gage.”

  Gage, distracted by a group of young ladies standing in the corner, finally faced Rose, a blush on his face. “You are most kind.”

  Ballard adjusted his cravat yet again and eyed the front doors as if expecting someone.

  “Relax, Ballard,” Elias said. “Take the night off. Dance with a comely lady. Dance with a bevy of them. In fact, there’s one looking at you now.” He nodded toward the same group Gage had noticed before—four ladies giggling and peeking at the gentlemen from behind fluttering fans.

  “Yes, Captain.” Ballard’s smile seemed forced, and the twitch at his right eye gave Elias pause. “But first the refreshments.” Ballard pointed toward the table lined with all manner of drinks and
food. “Shall we, Gage?”

  Gage licked his lips, his eyes holding a hesitancy, as he followed Ballard into the crowd.

  Elias sat beside his sister. “Where is Josiah?”

  She cleared her throat and tilted her head to the left where Elias found his first mate, donned in his finest, talking with Ruth, one of the women who assisted in the orphanage. He grinned at the way the woman lowered her lashes and smiled at something Josiah had said.

  “When did this happen?”

  “Last time you were here. But you were too busy to notice, I suppose.” Plucking out her fan, Rose swept it over her heated skin. “She’s a Godly woman, Elias. She’ll make Josiah a good wife.”

  “I’m happy for him.” Now if he could only get his own love life settled.

  Charity returned, a glass in one hand and Edmund holding the other.

  “I hope melon punch is acceptable, Mrs. Bennet.” She handed it to Rose.

  “Please call me Rose, and yes, ’tis my favorite. Thank you.”

  Edmund slid onto Elias’ lap. “Papa, can you teach me how to dance?”

  “What’s this?” Elias wiped crumbs from atop his son’s lips.

  Charity shrugged. “Somehow a piece of cake leapt off the table into Edmund’s mouth.”

  Edmund giggled.

  Elias squeezed the boy and shared a smile with Charity. “I must speak to that cake at once and tell it to stop jumping at our guests!”

  “I’m not a guest. I live here, Papa!”

  “Indeed you do, young man.”

  Various couples streamed toward them to greet him and his sister and thank them for the invitation: the Mackens, Franks, Paulsons…all good people and friends. But as soon as the band began to play a gavotte, they excused themselves to line the floor.

  Charity must have noticed the forlorn look on Rose’s face because she said, “You must miss your husband so. Is he often away?”

  “Nay. Not often. And yes, I do miss him terribly.” She sipped her drink, smiled, and tipped her head to something behind Charity.

  Charity followed her gaze to a group of ladies across the room staring at Elias. “Seems you have admirers, Captain,” she teased him.