The Pirate's Daughter

by Helen Dickson

  ‘You haven’t,’ Lady Marston replied firmly. ‘Besides, it was so long ago now that it’s passed into the annals of history—and there I prefer it to remain. And now I will leave you. I wanted to see you and, now I have done so, I can quite see why Stuart fell in love with you. Whether or not we meet again will be for the court to decide. But please believe me when I say I wish you well.’

  ‘Does Stuart know you have come here today, Lady Marston?’

  ‘No. He would have been against it and tried to prevent me. Goodbye, Cassandra. I shall pray that the judge shows leniency towards you and you are exonerated from whatever charges are laid against you.’

  Cassandra already knew that the date of her trial had been set for the following week when Stuart came again to Newgate. He approached her with energetic strides and she watched him with desperate eyes, searching his darkly handsome features for some sign that would give her hope, but there was none.

  Seeing him again caused a painful ache to wrench at her heart. She loved him, wholly and completely, inside out for every hour, every second of every day. He was her reason for living, the one thing in her life that helped her to get through each miserable day in Newgate. She noted with alarm the lines of worry on his forehead and his tense expression.

  ‘How are you, Cassandra?’ he asked, devouring her features with hungry eyes. A shaft of light cut through the grime of a small window high up in the prison wall, highlighting the perfect beauty of her face. Looking down, he searched her eyes, seeing there all the misery she was being forced to endure. The blue depths were still and sad, but her mouth trembled into a little smile that almost broke his heart. He felt anger and protectiveness begin to simmer inside him—emotions that had been leaping into a steady flame with each new day.

  ‘As you can see, my condition could not be much worse. But it’s surprising how one adjusts to life in Newgate when one has no choice. But, what is it, Stuart, that causes you to look so worried? Do not spare me, I beg of you. Is the news you bring me very bad?’ The grim look he gave her was enough to send a chill through her heart.

  ‘It is not good. That is why I’ve delayed in coming. My time has been taken up with going from one Admiralty department to another. Come, sit by me,’ he said, taking hold of her hands and pulling her down on to a bench in a quiet corner. Seated side by side he looked at her, his eyes holding deep compassion.

  ‘Before we discuss the trial, tell me first how you are. I left a generous purse with the turnkey on my previous visit to ensure your shackles were removed and that you get decent food. Does he abide by that?’

  ‘It was an immense relief to get rid of the irons and I am fed well enough,’ she replied, which was hardly true, for the food she got to eat was only slightly better than the unappetising prison food. ‘I think it’s the lack of water to wash in that I miss the most. But is there anything new I ought to know about the trial? You know it has been set for next week?’

  ‘So I believe. As you are already aware, the charges against you are based on eyewitness accounts of those who saw you on board the Dolphin on the night she was taken from her moorings. That evidence alone could not condemn you, but it would seem it has been reinforced by one of the seamen captured with you—one Jeremiah Price. Price is willing to testify that not only were you on board that night, but that the crimes committed were on your orders.’

  ‘Which, to my regret, I cannot deny,’ she whispered. ‘I confess that I inspired Drum to do it, but I did not physically take part in it.’ Suddenly her face became a mirror of confusion. ‘But—I don’t understand. I told you that the only seamen captured with me were the four Drum took on at Tenerife. This man Price cannot possibly know anything about that night.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. He also claims that during the time you sailed on the Dolphin with O’Leary you assisted in the attack and raid of a British merchant vessel off the north coast of Trinidad.’

  All the colour drained out of Cassandra’s face and she swallowed hard, staring at his shadowy face in disbelief, unable to believe she was hearing correctly. ‘But—he couldn’t say that,’ she protested. ‘No vessels were attacked while I was on board. Drum would never put Rosa’s life at risk, or mine. Jeremiah Price is lying. But why would he lie?’

  ‘To save his own skin. By Price giving evidence against you, his sentence will be changed from that of hanging to one of transportation.’

  ‘And he is believed?’

  ‘Unfortunately, yes.’

  ‘But—what do the seamen who were captured with him have to say? Have they not been questioned? It can be proved that he is lying.’

  ‘No, Cassandra,’ Stuart said quietly, his face set in grave lines. ‘It is too late. His comrades have already been hanged.’

  Cassandra’s features froze. ‘Then there is no hope,’ she whispered wretchedly.

  ‘It is the only positive evidence they have against you.’

  ‘And the most damning. With this I imagine there will be a charge of piracy against me.’ As the words tripped angrily off her tongue she had no idea how close she came to the truth. Only when Stuart did not reply did she stare at him as one struck dumb. ‘Oh, dear God! I’m right, aren’t I? I have already been charged with piracy?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘And have any witnesses come forward from this vessel I’m supposed to have raided—if it exists at all?’ she retorted bitterly.

  ‘It does, but as yet no one has come forward.’ Seeing the hopeless look of despair in her eyes, Stuart gripped her hands. ‘All is not yet lost. I shall demand an audience with the Lord High Admiral himself if need be. It must be made known that this man is prepared to perjure himself under oath in order to get his sentence reduced.’

  ‘Stuart, do they know I am your wife?’

  ‘Not yet—which surprises me. I really did think that by this time the crew of the Sea Hawk would have been quick to divulge such a fascinating piece of information about their captain, and that the gossip would have flown faster than rats leaving a sinking ship.’

  That made her smile. ‘Perhaps the men are more loyal to you than you realise. Because of the part you played in capturing my father, it is bound to cause some confusion at the Admiralty for you to show so much interest in me, his daughter, and will surely arouse suspicion—if it has not done so already.’

  Stuart shrugged. ‘I know—and I have to confess that my persistent enquiries have already given rise to a good deal of curiosity. But it’s of little matter now. And who knows, the fact that you are my wife could vastly further your cause. I shall endeavour to have you freed at all costs,’ he said in a tone of such utter determination that Cassandra’s heart warmed and almost burst with love.

  ‘Tell me more about the raid on this mysterious ship, Stuart. None of this makes sense. Where and when did it take place?’

  ‘The vessel was the Triumph and she was attacked by the Dolphin three leagues from Trinidad on the first day of April last year. The assault was vicious, the captain and most of the crew killed. Unfortunately for the prosecution, no one can be found to testify who was on board the Triumph at the time. No doubt the few survivors have since become scattered and joined the crews of other ships. The sole evidence depends on the testimony of Jeremiah Price, and he is prepared to give a detailed account of everything that happened.’

  Cassandra stared at him in disbelief, a dawning of hope beginning to flow through her. Suddenly all her nerve centres that had been numb by hopelessness and despair for so long were sharply reawakened.

  ‘But—on the first day of April last year I was on the Spirit of Enterprise on my way to Barbados. I left the Dolphin when she put in at Trinidad in March. Drum’s attack on the Triumph must have taken place after that—although how the Dolphin could have attacked any vessel in the state she was in confounds me. So don’t you see?’ she cried ardently. ‘I couldn’t possibly have taken part in the raid.’

  Realising what this meant a hard, determined light of b
attle gleamed in Stuart’s eyes. ‘Cassandra—are you sure of this?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said, her eyes large and luminous in the candlelight. ‘Captain Tillotson will testify to it.’

  The lines of gravity on Stuart’s face began to relax as he was fired with renewed hope. ‘Samuel! But of course.’

  ‘Oh, Stuart, please don’t tell me he’s somewhere on the high seas and cannot be reached.’

  ‘No. He is still in England at his home in the north. I’ll leave directly and ask him to accompany me back to London. He will come, Cassandra—for you.’

  There was so much tenderness in his last words that Cassandra felt a stab of elation.

  Stuart folded her cold hands in his strong warm ones. ‘Despite your background he always thought highly of you. With his testimony, I can see a strong possibility of you going free. As long as I have breath in my body, no power on earth will prevent me from saving you from the gallows.’

  Cassandra’s eyes were enormous with a sapphire blaze of tears, her soft lips trembling as she looked at him in wonder. ‘Why, Stuart?’ she asked softly. ‘Why are you doing this? Why should my fate matter so much to you? Feeling as you do, would it not be better to be rid of me now?’ She expected a harsh retort, but all he did was shake his head.

  ‘You little fool,’ he said, her two hands remaining locked in his. ‘The last thing I want is to be rid of you. You are my wife. That is why I must save you. If you are found guilty, there will be no justice on earth or in heaven.’

  ‘And afterwards?’ she ventured to ask, hopefully, desperately, wishing he had said he was doing all this because he loved her and absurdly disappointed that he hadn’t. ‘Is there hope for anything between us? There is a bond—we both feel it—but will you be able to live with me as your wife when all this is over?’

  There was a catch in her voice and a note of pleading, for the only thing that mattered to her now and always was this man, her husband, who she felt still rejected her. If he continued to cast her away from him when this was done, better that she be found guilty and hanged, for her life would be of no interest to her then.

  Immediately a cloud descended over Stuart’s dark eyes and his face became grim. He released her hands quickly, frowning as he rose and stepped back, hesitating as he gave her question some thought. His eyes held hers, but the look in them was inscrutable. At length he spoke, his voice sounding hard. ‘At this moment the only thing I can focus on is obtaining your freedom—nothing else.’

  ‘But what use is my freedom if I don’t have you?’ Cassandra cried wildly, anguish tearing through her voice, her lovely eyes, naked and defenceless, locked on his. She stood up, reaching out and gripping his arm in a futile attempt to stop him leaving her.

  ‘For the love of God, Cassandra,’ Stuart whispered savagely, his eyes beseeching her not to continue in this vein. ‘Please stop it. Don’t do this. Don’t torture either of us in this manner. You know how I feel—how things stand between us. You are close to my heart—and, yes, rightly or wrongly I do care for you, deeply. I want you more than I ever thought it possible to want anything in my life. But don’t ask anything more of me than this just now.’

  ‘Then I will wait—and hope that one day—’

  ‘No,’ he interrupted fiercely. ‘I cannot ask you to do that.’

  ‘That is something you cannot decide for me.’

  Gently he released himself from her clasp and turned away, intending to leave her, but, hearing a low, strangled sob tear from her lips, he again looked at her lovely, anguished face. ‘Take courage, Cassandra, and try not to be alarmed,’ he said, gripping her hands once more between his strong fingers.

  ‘I—I cannot help it,’ she whispered.

  Even as she spoke, unable to stop himself—unable to look on her wretchedness—Stuart’s hands cupped her face and drew it close to his, kissing her lips tenderly in an attempt to reassure her, to comfort her—a kiss so very gentle and without passion.

  His expression was oddly touching and Cassandra felt her spirits lighten. With his arms wrapped around her she melted against him, closing her eyes, wanting to savour the moment, feeling that she had found a safe harbour. But his embrace was brought to a swift conclusion when the turnkey returned, forcing them to part.

  Stuart released her and stepped back. ‘Goodbye, Cassandra.’

  ‘You—you will come back before the trial, won’t you, Stuart?’

  ‘Just as soon as I return to London.’

  When he had left, cast down once more into the gloom of her surroundings, Cassandra was engulfed in a sudden, frightened loneliness. Alone in the corner where Stuart had left her, she turned to the wall and made no effort to hide her tears, which were no longer droplets and flowed in abundance. Was it just a dream to hope Stuart would want her to be with him if she was exonerated? And what would his reaction be when he found out about her condition? Would he reject their child also?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Stuart left Newgate knowing there was need for haste if he was to ride to Nottingham and return to London with Captain Tillotson in time for the trial. All his bodily senses were concentrated on getting Cassandra pardoned. He must not allow himself to weaken by letting his thoughts dwell on her wretchedness or her parting words and the throbbing plea in her voice when she had asked him if they would have a future together should she be reprieved.

  It was a question he had asked himself many times, a question he could fight no longer. From the moment he had become aware of who she was, he had not allowed himself to think of a future for them together, but now, realising that he was on the brink of losing her forever had reawakened him from his mental stupor. It was like being resurrected—as if a light had been turned on in his soul.

  He already knew what it was like to be without her and the misery it created. When she had left him to go with O’Leary, he had told her he would not rest until he found her again, that he would never give her up, and, looking back, he realised that that was the moment when the truth had dawned on him—that while ever they both lived he was powerless to leave her. She was his wife. They would not be parted—except by death itself.

  ‘So,’ Lady Marston said, when Stuart told her of his visit to Newgate and his intention to ride to Nottingham, ‘you intend to claim Cassandra openly as your wife?’

  ‘It is what I want and the right and proper thing to do.’

  Lady Marston rose from the chair by the window where she sat do to her embroidery, and crossed to where her son stood by the fireplace, staring absently into the flames. His face had a bleak, forbidding cast to it. ‘Once it is made public, your marriage will be certain to cause a great deal of speculation and scandal. People will talk.’

  ‘Let them. It will not bother me overmuch. It’s too late anyway. Cassandra is my wife and I have no intention of divorcing her—or living apart from her, for that matter—should she be reprieved.’

  Lady Marston smiled affectionately. ‘You always were obstinate, Stuart. So like your father. But—tell me, if she is reprieved, have you given any thought to where she will go? Where you will live?’

  ‘I’ve thought no further than the trial. But I suppose I must.’

  ‘Then I think she should come here—or perhaps to Charnwood—until the gossip that will be sure to surround the trial dies down, and she ceases to be looked on as something of a curiosity,’ Lady Marston suggested, having reached a decision, knowing she must put her son’s happiness before all else. ‘I find it quite nauseating how people gather to witness a potentially scandalous spectacle and leave when the promise of bloodletting has disappeared.’ When Stuart stared at her in incredulity and amazement, she smiled softly. ‘Where else would you have your wife go? What would happen to her if she didn’t come here?’

  ‘I expect she would return to Chelsea to live with her cousins. But would you mind her coming here, Mother? I am not insensitive to your feelings and will only allow her to do so if you permit it. Would it not be too much of a strai
n for you living under the same roof?’

  ‘I was shocked when you told me you had married her—because of who she is. But neither of us can make her the instrument for our revenge because of the crimes committed by her father. The impulse to hate will eventually erode our minds if we are not careful.’

  ‘But old hatreds die hard.’

  ‘Only if we let them. It is time to lay Nathaniel Wylde’s ghost to rest, for no matter what misery he has caused us it was not of Cassandra’s making. I do not make harsh judgements, Stuart—especially when I know how deeply you feel for each other. I do try to understand and make allowances.’

  Stuart turned his dark, introspective eyes on her, sensing there was something she was not telling him. ‘You always have. On that you cannot be faulted. But how can you know how Cassandra feels when you have never met her?’

  ‘Because I went to see her. Forgive me, Stuart,’ she said quickly when she saw him start, ‘but it was something I had to do for myself.’

  He was astounded. ‘You went to Newgate?’

  Her expression was grim. ‘Yes—why not? Life has taught me to make swift judgements and I liked what I saw in Cassandra—despite her ancestry. She is everything you said of her—lovely and quite charming, with courage I cannot help but admire. She is well mannered and seems to have been well brought up by her mother’s family. Of course, there is bound to be surprise among our friends by your choice of wife—and my acceptance of it.’

  ‘And have you accepted it, Mother? In your heart, I mean?’

  She looked at him levelly, hiding her own secret grief that Stephen’s death had caused her to suffer and the cruel manner of it, for she knew that life must go on. ‘As well as I am able to do just now. In time, I would like to think that Cassandra and I can become friends.’

  Stuart stared at her. His mother never ceased to amaze him. The gratitude he felt towards her for her good sense and understanding was quite overwhelming, but he did wonder how he would have taken it had her wishes run contrary to his own. ‘Thank you. I cannot ask you to be fairer than that.’