Ford, Jessie

by Remember Me Love

  Vanguard's activity in these same waters was heavy enough to make the line a frequent, if not a favored victim, and the plundering was sweet. One night Marbella parried with the Emma H., a ship which Aaron longed to take. The Emma H. was one of the bestdesigned clipper ships and would never have been compromised on the open sea where her kind ruled supreme in speed and grace. But along the coast, where the breezes were lighter and more capricious, the schooner, with less tonnage and less sail, could maneuver to advantage. In the open ocean Marbella would not have considered Emma H. a possible target, and, as luck would have it, she slipped into the black of night.

  By this time, Aaron was chief mate, a post his skills warranted. Jennings welcomed him to the position, trusting him fully, grateful to have a comrade he knew so well as second-in-command.

  The kings of commerce railed against the sudden increase in their losses along the coast. A veritable fleet of pirates had sprung up. Or so it seemed to one after another ship limping into port, sometimes with only secret cargo looted, but always the most lucrative ferreted out. The outlaw fleet was small, but seemed to have incredibly accurate information. In fact, the contacts Jennings maintained were a major source of his success.

  "Think we must lay low, Aaron. I hear the Crown has a fleet preparing for us. The coffers are full. We ought to quit before we're sunk, or worse, hung for entertainment of the mobs."

  "You're sounding like an old man, Mason. The action's just getting interesting and you want to quit! I want to see them bleed a little. We've only made them squirm."

  "I like my head resting comfortably on my neck. You don't seem to give a damn for yours. Yours is already in a noose, as I recall."

  "If they catch me. And they won't."

  "What a braggart!" Mason scoffed.

  "What's got into you, man?" Aaron said with some impatience.

  Jennings moaned, "Guess I've been aboard this bucket counting my gold too long. I want to spend a little of it before they dangle me from a mizzenmast."

  "Let's get into Dover. A few nights with Angela and you'll be good as new."

  "And soon limping gratefully back, you think."

  "You heard me right."

  "Let's go."

  This time at the Sow's Inn Aaron unburdened himself in an unfeeling, mechanical way. He chose this form of gratification, never asking for or wanting more than physical release, and the girls greeted him as eagerly as they did his companion.

  There were other harbors they moored in, now watching the horizon with greater care, slipping off to the Continent more often than normal to keep their hand in legitimate trade and thereby lessen the pressure on themselves.

  Aaron found this duty very much to his liking, his position, the accommodations, the wealth he was accumulating far surpassing his ambitions the day he waited half-dead for Jennings. It was by far a more bearable existence than he had ever known at sea, save for the first months after he left home. And as long as Juliet's memory lay untapped beneath his conscious life, it was the most satisfying experience of his adult life. He knew power and independence. He answered to himself only, worried about nothing, sought only to gratify himself.

  He had no deep allegiance to anyone or anything. His life was his own, the only thing of any value to him, and, on the right occasion, it might be offered up if the stakes or the exhilaration were high enough. He was willing to take risks his less-than-cautious friend considered nothing short of insane. The more suicidal, the greater the risk, the more likely Aaron was to press the issue, and Jennings began to have serious misgivings about the future. He retained absolute power as captain, which Aaron never questioned, but Aaron counseled and prodded the ship into ventures that, at times, caused Mason to hold his breath.

  One night ashore, Mason rushed unannounced into Aaron's room, interrupting him at a inopportune moment. "The Consuela's captured!" he announced excitedly, seemingly unaware of Aaron's preoccupation. "We'll have to get out of sight. Someone's bound to inform on us to save their necks," he continued without hesitation, ignoring Aaron's obvious disinclination to converse. "I've ordered up provisions to get us a good distance away. We'll catch the tide. Think we're safe for now, but―"

  "Mason," Aaron shouted finally, "get the hell out of here! It'll keep."

  "Damn it, hurry up!" Jennings grumbled and stomped out of the room, to pace impatiently until Aaron appeared in the hallway in something of a foul humor.

  "Don't ever do that again, unless the goddamned house is on fire!" he snarled as he finished dressing.

  Mason didn't hear him. All he had on his mind was a safe escape and he worried over Aaron's lack of concern. They immediately left the tavern while Mason outlined his plans. "We've taken far too many risks lately: I've been listening to you too much, been caught up in your enterprising schemes."

  "They've worked handsomely, haven't they? You knew the day had to come when one of us would get caught. You're sounding like an old woman. Get hold of yourself," he said roughly.

  "Anytime you want, you're free to go," challenged Mason.

  "My work unsatisfactory, Captain?"

  "Not as long as you know who's captain!"

  "Aye, aye, sir," Aaron laughed.

  "Then go get Hastings and Jensen. We'll head for Calais as soon as we get everyone aboard."

  "Mason." Aaron stopped abruptly in his tracks to make sure he had the man's full attention. "Have you thought of going home?"

  "Home? My God!―Home's any brothel." He hesitated. "What do you mean, the States?" he asked incredulously. "Why? You're not going to tell me you're homesick."

  Aaron laughed humorlessly. "It just occurs to me, it'd be a fresh start. This part of the ocean is getting too crowded, especially if our name comes up."

  Jennings pondered a few minutes, taken immediately by the logic and simplicity of Aaron's idea. "Won't a few people be surprised to see us?"

  "No one's even missed us, you fool!" he laughed.

  "I left behind quite a stableful."

  Aaron roared. "Don't expect them to be pining for you."

  "They'll be glad enough to see me." Then he was serious again. "Never thought I'd go back."

  "It's not for sentimental reasons I suggest it."

  "We could sail before the end of the month, and no later or it'll be too rough a crossing." He paused, raising his eyes to the night sky, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "I hear there's war afoot at home. And plenty to make profit on. I'm all for that. Glad to have you aboard, Aaron Sumner." And their future was set―but charted on a course they could not envision.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  SOME months later, Jennings would revise his appraisal of the wisdom of ever taking Aaron under his wing. They crossed the Atlantic, established the Marbella legitimately along the Southern and Gulf coasts, and enjoyed a prosperous existence. But Aaron missed the precipitous danger of their former profession and acquired another ship for use in more lawless ventures. Soon their base of operation centered around the Louisiana coast and into the mouth of the Mississippi. Aaron began to reacquaint himself with the area he at one time called home. Having severed all ties with home years ago, he rarely considered seeing his mother; more often he thought fleetingly of Louisa or Marshall.

  He spent his free time along the waterfronts and sought his pleasures in the highest-priced houses. At La Petite Maison, Madame Lilly welcomed him warmly whenever he entered and Aaron reflected on the things money could buy as he lay back in one of her comfortable beds in a dimly lit, but lavishly garish room. Aaron watched Katherine in mirrors over the bed and on the walls. The red-velvet and silk-draped room glowed pink in the soft light, and no detail was overlooked. There were even vases of enormous red roses to fill the air with their heady fragrance. Aaron had paid for a night without sleep, but he was ready to welcome a few hours rest. He lay back watching Katherine satisfy herself again, envying her insatiable needs and her seeming ability to go on forever. To his surprise they were interrupted by a soft but pers
istent rapping on the door. Katherine disturbed herself to answer, and Lilly intruded apologetically. "My pet, I am so sorry to disturb your rest," she smiled, patting Aaron's face, speaking soothingly with genuine affection. "Another patron has insisted he speak with you. He is a very frequent and welcome guest. But, of late, he's seemed very unsettled and I'd prefer not to offend him, you understand, my love." She motioned to the "glassed slit in the wall, where for a suitably high fee, certain customers took their pleasure by watching others take theirs.

  "Who is it?"

  "Oh, I couldn't reveal his name, you know. But I'd not interrupt your pleasure for just anyone, you can be assured."

  "I take it he's not asking for any favors." Aaron grinned at her.

  "Oh, no!" she laughed.

  "All right, send him in." Aaron reclined in the bed, as if receiving visitors there was customary.

  Katherine sought to arouse Aaron while they waited.

  "Perhaps his eyes are failing and he wants a closer look," she giggled, urging him with her tongue. "Perhaps," he said, declining the temptation she offered, and he covered the both of them with the coverlet.

  He had no idea nor even speculated who the intruder might be, but he was totally unprepared to see Justin Boyd walk through the door. Aaron recognized him after all these years in spite of what age and dissipation had done to him, for Justin's particular hauteur outlived even the ravages of time. "You recognize me, don't you," Justin began with unquestioned authority in his tone.

  "If I do?" Aaron shrugged noncommittally.

  "I want to know who you are for certain," Justin demanded.

  "My name would mean nothing to you."

  "But your face does."

  "What can my face mean to you?" Aaron asked calmly.

  "You resemble someone of great interest to me, and the resemblance could mean a great deal to both of us."

  "I'm not wanting for anything," Aaron replied easily.

  "Few of us ever have enough, true?"

  "Perhaps."

  Justin seated himself in a chair which he pulled to the bedside. He looked at Katherine coolly, and then at Aaron with a hard, calculating expression. Aaron noticed the man shook almost imperceptibly, and close up, he was frail-looking. His eyes had a glassy appearance, their color faded from the intensely blue piercing gaze Aaron recalled from childhood, when the eyes betrayed the man as cold, if not cruel. Now the man appeared as cold-blooded, perhaps, but more distracted, more distant. "You won't deny you know who I am."

  "I know you," replied Aaron.

  "Then, you could only be Andrew Sutton." Justin smiled, seeming very satisfied.

  Aaron hesitated, drinking deeply from a glass of champagne Katherine offered him. "Some years ago, that was my name . . . what could it matter to you? Surely, the reward for my jumping ship is of no consequence, and you've long since recovered your other losses?"

  "You do remember Louisa?"

  Aaron's eyes narrowed. "Very well," he answered quietly.

  "She's grown into a remarkably beautiful woman," Justin said, extending his glass to Katherine for a refill. "She and Marshall are very fond of one another, it seems." He paused to drink again, a hard look covering his face. "Their union has been kept secret, as secret as such a pastime can be," he smiled, lingering over his thoughts.

  "So, they've climbed out of the swamps into each other's beds―what has that got to do with me?" His voice was edged with growing boredom.

  "I want your signature ..."

  "What can that possibly do for you?"

  "Your signature and your appearance at Marshall's bank at the appropriate moment." Aaron's blank look annoyed Justin, but he went on. "Marshall will soon reach his twenty-third birthday. At that time, he will receive a sizable gift from Simon―a fortune, in fact."

  "For God's sake, Justin, you broke?" He roared with laughter, annoyed by the peculiar plan the man advanced and by his nervous behavior. Justin suddenly seemed barely able to control a hostility that seethed beneath a thin veneer of respectability.

  "I'm not at all insolvent," he stiffened. "Marshall and Louisa have not exposed their affair because a marriage would never be agreed on by the family. But Marshall will seek no one's consent once he is independent."

  "You're saying you don't approve of Marshall for a son-in-law?"

  "Oh, no, it's not that I don't approve of Marshall. I just want Louisa back." He stared into the distance as if he saw something that transfixed him.

  Katherine rolled her eyes at Aaron when he frowned in her direction.

  "What are you saying, Justin? I don't get your drift. What is it you want?" Aaron demanded.

  "Why, I love Louisa and I want her again. I've missed her. If Marshall cannot support her tastes, she will have to come to me."

  "My God, Justin. You sound as if she were your lover!" Aaron exclaimed.

  "She was. Before Marshall took her away from me."

  "Christ!" Aaron cried in disbelief.

  Justin continued, oblivious to Aaron's response. "It's very simple. If you impersonate Marshall, take his fortune, Louisa will have no other recourse." He smiled with an odd innocence, as if believing his own logic.

  "You son-of-a-bitch." Aaron growled, his body stiff with fury. "Get out!"

  Justin appeared to be genuinely shocked at Aaron's response. "Why I thought you'd understand," he said, gesturing to the room and to Katherine.

  "I understand. Now get out!" He rose from the bed, moving angrily toward the man.

  Justin sighed, and retreated with obvious reluctance.

  Aaron was stunned. "The man's crazy," he shouted at Katherine when they were alone.

  "Oh, you'd be surprised," Katherine said almost casually, beginning to pet him again. "Plenty of girls have known their fathers."

  For a few minutes Aaron only stared at Katherine. Justin's visit had ruined the night for him. All his mind could see was Louisa, the face of the young woman he thought he'd seen last in London, or the tragic child who clung so desperately to him years ago. No wonder she was crazy, he thought. She only seemed sane when Justin was away from home. Why was everyone so blind?

  "More wine, or would you like something else?"

  "My heart isn't in it."

  "I don't want your heart, chéri."

  He smiled at her, relaxing again. But even in his pleasure thoughts of Louisa filled him and he was obsessed with the idea of seeing her once more.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  AARON didn't seem able to stop thinking of Louisa. He had been "home" a long time, and now the need to reopen the past was overpowering. He found his activities bringing him in closer and closer contact with the Boyd and Hudson properties and investments. Along the Gulf Coast, hardly a cargo of any value was transported without Justin and Simon having an interest in it. Anything he pirated affected them somehow. And nights ashore found Aaron disguising his appearance, moving closer to home, little by little getting information he wanted. He actually saw Marshall one evening. He was shocked by the face of his friend and brother. Few would have told them apart had they been groomed and dressed alike.

  And when he saw Louisa, he knew he had seen her that morning in London. She did not see him this time, and he watched her longingly from the shadows of a small street crowd while she danced with Marshall in the garden at a gala waterfront party. Aaron brooded over her beauty and her joyfulness as she danced and flirted so close but so far from him. She seemed to be something from out of a dream, certainly only a dream for him. For surely she would shrink from his touch, as she would from Justin, he thought. Who would not want her? he wondered. To anyone with even half an eye, the couple who danced together radiated love for each other, yet, as much as he desired Louisa, Aaron was both glad for his friends and greatly surprised by his own charity.

  He was somehow satisfied at seeing Louisa and Marshall again, and by knowing they had so much pleasure with one another. He no longer felt any need to go home again, and what regrets he had about his friends, a
nd especially Louisa, seemed to be settled. He thought he was done with her at last.

  But he hadn't given up his game before he was observed by Jason Russell. The resemblance between Aaron and Marshall was not lost on the man who, over the years, had spent a good portion of his time noting the comings and goings, the griefs and the joys, the profits and losses of both the Boyd and Hudson families. Russell was well known to both Justin and Simon, and they were even better known to him. He knew them as well as they knew each other, and perhaps better than each man knew himself. At first, he had been employed by Northern competitors to spy on the men for business reasons. But with the nation's future in balance, his information became a serious political interest. Russell's loyalties were strongly for the Union, though his sentiments were unknown to his Southern friends. When approached for information about Southern intrigue, he rather naturally extended his efforts to furthering the Union cause, providing any enlightenment he could.

  Russell moved comfortably in the Hudson household since he and his wife Kathleen were special favorites of Emma Hudson. Russell was a quiet man, and he saw and heard more than most. He knew an incredible amount about the affairs, business and otherwise, of the Boyd and Hudson households. He was certainly the first to recognize the bond between Marshall and Louisa, the first to suspect the extent of their relationship. And he knew whose face he had seen in the shadows from time to time recently.

  He followed Aaron, and made discreet inquiries until he learned his present occupation, and then he meticulously pieced Aaron's past together. He saw to it that Aaron's future whereabouts would be known to him, not knowing until after the fire, when Louisa's plans for California were made, just where Marshall's look-alike might fit in. He learned about Aaron's bitter and violent life and suspected his motives and his hatreds. He also suspected who it was that drew Aaron close to home, and caused him to take the risks he did.

  He knew Aaron had the temperament if not the loyalty to participate in the yet amorphous plan to stop Southern influence in the West. All that needed to be done, as Russell saw it, was to coerce Aaron to cooperate. "Jennings!" Russell concluded, as he pondered over the problem. "Jennings, of course. The man saved his life and their friendship goes a long way back. You'll have to arrest them both and hostage Jennings."