Cassandra expected no visitors and wanted none. She had no wish for anyone to see her in such wretched circumstances, so she was surprised to hear the warder call her name one day. Looking in his direction, she saw him being followed by a tall gentleman shrouded in a black cloak.
The gentleman spoke her name, and his familiar voice struck straight at her heart as she watched him come towards her adoringly, feeling her heart fill and almost burst with the joy of seeing him. He was just as she remembered, tall and broad shouldered, with lustrous, unruly black hair, and when she looked up at the lean, bronzed, formidable face, the instant she met his dark eyes she felt a shaking begin in her limbs.
Stuart’s presence swept away the ugly prison walls and once again she could see the blue sky and smell the sea and almost feel the wind on her face and taste the salt on her lips. In an ecstasy of love she wanted to cast herself into his arms, yet her heart had already made its choice between distancing herself from him and the happiness that could be hers for a moment in his embrace.
There was something inside her that refused to weaken, for the depth of her love was too great to allow him to ruin himself on her account. She had to be strong—cruel, even—to send him away from her, no matter how it would kill her to do so. Pulling her shawl around her to hide her condition—which was not yet so noticeable, but she had no wish to give him any reason to suspect she might be carrying his child at this time—she drew herself up straight and, with as much pride as she could muster, looked at him squarely.
‘Forgive me if I do not welcome you, Stuart, but as you can see I am not dressed for company—and nor am I in the mood for it either. What are you doing here? I thought never to see you again—and, indeed, I had no wish for you to see me in such wretched circumstances. Have you come to say farewell? Is that it—to gloat at my wretchedness and to see how well I am coping with life in Newgate? Well, as you see,’ she goaded with a trembling little smile, indicating her surroundings with am exaggerated flourish of her arm, ‘I am surviving well enough.’
Stuart’s face darkened with anger, but he was not deceived. Looking down into her eyes, he read what was behind this show of bravado.
‘You little fool. You know perfectly well why I am here. What did you expect me to do when I heard what had befallen you?’ he said fiercely, appalled by her miserable state. He was sickened by what he saw, but his pity overrode his reaction to her surroundings. In his anger he wanted to tear the shackles from her wrists and feet. Although, despite this and the rough and tumble of her life, she was cloaked with an innate air of dignity. ‘You are my wife, for God’s sake. I have every right to be here.’
‘No,’ she replied, with a fierceness that surprised him. ‘I am your wife no longer. If you feel anything for me at all, then you will go from here and forget me. Forget I ever existed. I can bring you nothing but shame.’
‘I will be the judge of that.’
He cast an angry look at the other prisoners who, in their ghoulish curiosity, were closing in on them, leering and laughing with amusement, hoping to discover who this fine gentleman could be. Muttering a curse beneath his breath, taking her arm, Stuart drew her to a corner where they could converse with more privacy. The stench inside the prison was indescribable, but he was unaware of it or his surroundings. Nothing mattered to him at that moment but seeing his wife.
Looking down at her, he saw that, apart from her wrists rubbed sore by the manacles, she showed no after effects of the terror that must have gripped her on her capture, but, looking more closely, he realised that was not quite correct. In her wonderful eyes he detected a terrible anguish and despair, and it was this that struck him the most.
He was unable to believe that the filthy creature with her mass of greasy hair falling about her pale and strained face was his lovely young wife, and yet, beneath the dirt and grime, her pure and perfect beauty shone through and her manner and bearing distinguished her from the rest. A knot formed in the base of his throat, for she was still lovelier than any man could bear to look at.
‘You have no idea how I loathe the thought of you being here—alone and defenceless.’
‘Not so defenceless. My exploits have made me something of a celebrity among these criminals, and because of it there are those who treat me with something akin to reverence. No doubt they will shift their allegiance when someone more notorious than myself arrives.’
‘Nevertheless, on my departure I shall leave sufficient means to ensure that your time in here is made easier. I cannot tell you how shocked I was to learn of your capture on my return to London. But be assured that no matter what the outcome, Cassandra—or this foolish charade you are playing in an attempt to shut me out of your life—I will not let you face it alone.’
‘But you must,’ she cried, her voice trembling and sounding like that of a lost child as she struggled to retain her self-control. ‘Don’t you see, there is nothing you can do? I will not be vindicated—I would be a fool if I thought that. For your own sake you must not divulge that I am your wife. It would be folly to do so and you know it. You must protect your family from scandal and disgrace.’
Stuart looked at her hard, but he did not contradict her.
‘Go away, Stuart. Leave me to my fate. I don’t want you to stay—and God knows you have excellent reasons for staying away. I am trying to resign myself to dying—and your coming here will only exploit my weakness and seduce me to breaking point. Don’t you see that I have to remain strong to withstand this? You must understand that my feelings must be suppressed—that I must forget everything, for it is the only way I can survive these remaining days left to me.’
As Stuart studied her, his eyes clouded and his expression was transformed to one of impotent rage that she had been brought to this. Unable to look at the tragedy in her eyes, he reached out and took her hands, holding them so tightly that he hurt her.
‘Listen to me, Cassandra. You are right. You must remain strong, but do not expect me to leave you here and forget you. That I cannot do. I want you to be safe—to be free of this place and the threat of death hanging over you. Whether we are together or apart, I desire only your peace and happiness. You must never forget that.’
‘Happiness? With you?’ She gave a sad flicker of a smile, her determination to stand firm against him beginning to falter in her eyes in which tears were beginning to form. She found his presence and the warm pressure of his strong hands holding hers both welcome and reassuring. ‘That’s just a dream. Even if the men who will judge me show mercy, because of who I am we could never know happiness together. But I shall remember to the end that brief time God granted—when we met…the cave, and our wedding…and the night that followed. I shall never forget how you loved me then. No one can take that away from me.’
Hearing the anguish in her voice, Stuart felt a wave of pity and tenderness sweep over him. ‘I am hardly likely to forget that time, either,’ he uttered hoarsely, deeply moved by her words, for they made him remember how wonderful it had been between them, also. Placing a finger gently beneath her chin, he tilted her face to his. ‘You were beautiful as a bride, Cassandra—in a shimmering gown of creamy white silk embroidered with tiny pearls. You still are. But tell me—how are you really? Are you afraid?’
Pain clouded her clear blue eyes. ‘Yes,’ she admitted quietly. ‘I am afraid. I’m not afraid of death—but I am afraid of dying. Who is not? Will you tell me what will happen? I need to know the procedure so that I will be prepared.’
‘Yes, of course. But understand that I do not intend sitting back and waiting for sentence to be passed on you without doing everything in my power to have you vindicated.’
‘That would be most unwise.’
A slow, lazy smile swept across his face, lightening the moment. ‘Nothing I have ever done has been wise, so why change the pattern of a lifetime? Tell me first about your capture. When the Dolphin was overpowered by the naval vessels, were you harmed at all?’
She shook her hea
d. ‘No, I was not harmed, but there is little to tell. We were sailing to the Cape Verde Islands when we were attacked. The naval vessel was powerful—we stood little chance of escaping. The Dolphin’s crew put up a fierce fight, but most were killed—Drum, also. He went down with the ship.’
Stuart’s eyes searched her face for some sign of remorse over the loss of her father’s friend. ‘And how did that affect you, Cassandra? Were you saddened to witness the death of such an old friend.’
‘He was not my friend, Stuart—not after what he did to the Sea Hawk, what he threatened to do to you. But, despite the cruel life he led, I felt no sense of relief when he was killed—merely remorse and, extraordinarily, sadness, for the man who had been my father’s friend for many years, and had once shown me as much kindness and concern as if I had been his own daughter. I cannot forget that.’
Stuart nodded. Regrettably it could not be ignored that both the ship and the man had been a part of her life. Like Nathaniel Wylde, O’Leary had come to care for her—as much as it was possible for a man of his ilk to care for anybody. In her ignorance and childish innocence Cassandra had given her father her love and O’Leary her trust, but when she had become fully aware of the evils of their profession they had whipped the rug of childishness from beneath her feet, turning her trust and confidence to disillusionment and disgust.
‘Have you been questioned by anyone from the Admiralty—or anyone else, come to that?’
‘No.’
‘And you have no idea when the trial has been set for?’
‘No. What will happen?’
‘As you will remember from your father’s trial, the legal procedure for dealing with captured searovers will be heard by the Admiralty and three or four common law judges. Any crime committed on the sea or in any harbour or river is not subject to the rules of civil law. I believe you will be tried by a Court of Admiralty at the Old Bailey.’
Cassandra smiled wryly. ‘You are well informed, Stuart.’
‘As owner and captain of a merchantman, with years of experience behind me and dealings with searovers and the like, it was my business to know such things. I shall make enquiries at the Admiralty, but James tells me there is a shortage of evidence against you. The merchants who were attacked by Wylde and O’Leary cannot testify to your being on board on any of their raids.’
‘That’s because I never was. How could I be when I was at home in Chelsea? Both John and Meredith will testify to that.’
‘So the only charge against you will be the stealing of the Dolphin from her moorings and removing your father’s corpse from Execution Dock.’
‘Yes—and I know the serious nature of those charges alone are enough to condemn me,’ she whispered. ‘How long will the trial last, do you think?’
‘I believe you can be assured the proceedings will last no longer than a day. However, in accordance with the usual practice, you will not have any legal representation, so you will have to conduct your own defence. Fortunately, unlike the majority of seamen brought to trial who have little or no education and are ill equipped to defend their case, you are well schooled and capable of doing that. Is there anyone you can think of who can be called on to testify to your character?’
‘No. Only my cousin John—Meredith would be too terrified. But as far as I am aware he is still on Barbados. Perhaps the trial can be deferred until he returns.’
‘I doubt the Lords of the Admiralty will be prepared to hold up the proceedings. What happened caused them severe embarrassment and they are anxious to make an example of you and get the trial out of the way with as little publicity as they can.’
‘Then there is not even the faintest flicker of hope that I will be reprieved.’
‘While you are alive never lose hope, Cassandra,’ Stuart said fiercely, still gripping her hands, trying to infuse some of his strength into her. ‘Unfortunately there will be witnesses to testify that they saw you on board the Dolphin on the night she was taken. But unless statements can be obtained from the seamen captured with you, it is unlikely there will be any member of a pirate crew to speak against you. Can you remember who they were?’
She nodded. ‘There were four men who were captured along with myself. Drum took them on board when he stopped to careen the ship at Tenerife.’
A flicker of hope shone in Stuart’s eyes. ‘Are you certain of that? Think, Cassandra,’ he urged. ‘It could be important. Were they on board before that?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t believe so.’
‘Then that will be in your favour. O’Leary was a vicious character. Who is to say that he did not engineer the whole affair? You cannot deny being on the Dolphin that night, but anyone with eyes in their head will see you could not possibly have committed the crimes you are accused of.’ He uttered a low curse on seeing the gaoler who had admitted him beckoning to him, indicating that he’d had enough time with the prisoner. ‘I have to go, Cassandra. I promise I shall come again very soon, but in the meantime keep your wits about you at all times, and say nothing to incriminate yourself. I shall pay a visit to the Admiralty office and glean what information I can about your case.’
‘But—they will want to know why you are showing an interest. You must not let them know I am your wife, Stuart.’
He shrugged casually. ‘They will know soon enough. Don’t forget the entire crew of the Sea Hawk know you are my wife. It will not be long before the whole of London knows it.’
‘And your mother? Will—will you tell her?’ she asked hesitantly, observing how his expression became tense.
‘Yes. I must. I intend telling her immediately—before she learns of it from someone else.’ Hearing the gaoler rattling his keys impatiently, he sighed, tenderly touching her cheek with his hand in one final caress. ‘Goodbye, Cassandra. It seems I must go. Be strong—be brave. Your survival will depend on that.’
With tears on her lashes Cassandra watched him go. Automatically her arms wrapped themselves around her abdomen, wondering what Stuart would say if she were to tell him about their unborn child. Dear, sweet, merciful Lord, she prayed fervently, don’t let them hang me until after my child has been born.
Chapter Thirteen
Stuart rode his horse hard back to Bloomsbury. The stark horror of the conditions Cassandra was forced to endure inside Newgate Gaol tore at his heart, and the fact that she was being hounded by the Admiralty because she had made them look foolish caused a surge of sickness and disgust to engulf him like a tidal wave of emotion.
As he entered the house, the luxury and elegance of the stately residence struck a stark contrast to the filth and squalor of the establishment he had just left. After scrubbing the stench of the prison from his flesh and changing his clothes, he went in search of his mother. She was in her apartment, sitting at her desk writing some letters.
Subjecting Stuart to a close scrutiny when he entered, she rose, full of concern. Anxiously studying the deeply etched lines of strain and fatigue at his eyes and mouth, she moved towards him, looking deep into his troubled eyes.
‘What is it, Stuart? You look terrible. I’m not one to pry into your affairs, you know that, but ever since you came home you’ve been on edge. Is there something you want to discuss with me?’
‘I must speak to you on a matter of great importance,’ he replied grimly, walking over to a side table and pouring himself a liberal glass of brandy.
Lady Marston’s dark eyes narrowed into a slight frown, a pensive expression which heightened the similarity of features between mother and son. Of medium height, she was a woman with strongly marked features. Her skin was flawless and she had lustrous dark hair and eyes. Seating herself on the nearest chair, she watched as Stuart took a long swallow of his drink and calmly waited for him to begin.
Lady Marston listened quietly and with imperturbable calm as he began to speak. Stuart was aware of her still figure and close scrutiny, sensing how hard she was trying to quell the anxiety building up inside her as she struggled to
take in the extraordinary tale and the enormity of it. The telling of his marriage to Cassandra in Barbados, her identity and association with Drum O’Leary, and the circumstances of her arrest and imprisonment, was long and difficult, because Stuart knew it would revive and force his mother to relive that painful time when Stephen, his elder brother, had died at the hands of Nathaniel Wylde. It would be like re-opening a still raw wound.
Usually Lady Marston’s reaction to most things was one of calm and dignity, but what Stuart told her now affected her deeply. When he told her he had married Nathaniel Wylde’s daughter—the villain who they had been told had been responsible for the death of her beloved son—her fine nostrils flared and she gave an angry exclamation, but that was the only sound she uttered as she continued to listen tight lipped.
When he had finished speaking, the echo of Stuart’s words still reverberated in the room, and without saying anything she rose and moved away from him towards the window, turning her back and looking out in quiet contemplation as she tried to recover from the shock of what he had just told her.
Stuart respected her silence. After a while she turned and looked at him. There was no reproach or blame in her eyes, only pain and a deep unhappiness. It was clear to her now that ever since he had discovered who Cassandra was, he had been tearing himself apart with remorse.
‘There is no one who could wish you happiness in your marriage more than I, Stuart, but I do have my objections,’ she told him quietly. ‘Nathaniel Wylde killed my son and almost wrecked my life—and yet, still he has the power to reach out and inflict further pain on me from his watery grave. To have you married to the daughter of the man who was responsible for Stephen’s death I shall find extremely difficult to come to terms with.’
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