The Pirate's Daughter

by Helen Dickson

  ‘Leave?’ Cassandra asked stiffly. ‘And just where do you want to take me?’

  ‘You’re coming with me to my home in Bloomsbury,’ he told her with firm authority, almost dragging her towards a waiting carriage.

  For some strange reason Cassandra found the prospect of going with him to his home most unwelcome. More than anything else she wanted to go somewhere that was familiar to her, somewhere quiet where she could lick her wounds until she was completely healed. A coldness stole over her heart. Lost in the complexities of the trial, she had temporarily put out of her mind what loomed ahead of her if she was given a reprieve.

  ‘And—your mother? Are you telling me that she will allow me to live under her roof?’

  ‘My mother is a woman of good sense and immense understanding—as you will discover for yourself when you become better acquainted.’ When they stood beside the carriage he turned and fixed her with a hard stare. ‘Why did you not tell me she had visited you in Newgate?’

  ‘Because I thought she would prefer to do that herself. However, I—I am surprised she told you.’

  ‘Why? What my mother does is her own affair. Far be it from me to tell her what she can and cannot do. But with you it is different. You are my wife and it is my wish that you come with me to my home. There I promise you will be given every possible care and consideration.’

  Cassandra felt the anger that possessed him, and in the depths of her weakness and misery she might have let him persuade her, but then she saw Meredith coming towards her. With Meredith she would find the same warm, loving haven and affection that had protected her from Aunt Miriam and comforted her throughout her childhood and would help heal the wounds of these past months. With that, like the time when she had left Stuart on board the Sea Hawk and gone with Drum, the same strength that had helped her then came to the fore.

  She twisted her arm from his grasp. ‘Let go of me, Stuart. I am not going with you.’ A hard gleam entered her husband’s eyes and his features tightened remorselessly. In his arrogance he had been certain she would obey him.

  ‘No? Then where will you go?’

  ‘Home. To Chelsea.’

  His lips twisted with irony. ‘I was under the impression that when two people married their home was together.’

  ‘The circumstances that exist between ordinary married couples hardly apply to us.’

  ‘Maybe not, but enough of this. Don’t forget, Cassandra, that I am not your cousin John.’

  ‘You are right,’ she mocked, infuriated by his imperious tone. ‘Anyone listening to you now would believe you are my owner.’

  Stuart drew back sharply, his dark eyes hard between narrowed lids and he spoke with chill precision. ‘Does the thought of living with me in my house cause you such misery?’

  His face was set implacably, and when she met his gaze Cassandra’s heart was anguished. Unable to summon the fortitude to argue with him further, she lowered her head. ‘No, of course it doesn’t. But please allow me this.’

  ‘Very well,’ Stuart conceded on a gentler note. ‘I have enough compassion for your wishes to agree to that. I will give you no cause to reproach me for playing the heavy-handed husband.’

  Suddenly everything seemed too much for Cassandra. The excruciating terror of the trial seemed to have eaten into the deepest parts of her being and she stood beside him, almost too weak to speak. She wanted to cry, but the tears would not come.

  ‘I am grateful, Stuart,’ she whispered, ‘to you and to your mother. But you must give me time to recover from this. I must have breathing space, somewhere to repose. The fact is that at this moment I can think of nothing but the simple matter of having a bath to wash away the stench and the filth of the past weeks. The memory of them may not be so easy,’ she said quietly, unable to stem the involuntary shudder that swept over her. ‘Anything else will have to wait. My mind is going round and round in worn-out circles so that I can no longer think or feel. I would be grateful if you would allow me to leave with my cousins quickly and without any bitterness.’

  Stuart saw that her eyes were filled with a great weariness, the translucent skin beneath them smudged with shadows. He was deeply shaken and reproached himself severely for his anger at a time when she needed his support so desperately. He was ashamed. Hadn’t she been tortured enough without him making it worse by wallowing in his own misery and inability to respond as a prospective father should when told that his wife is to bear his child?

  A wave of tenderness and deep compassion overwhelmed him, and he was unable to resist doing the thing that came most natural to him. Reaching out, he gathered her into his arms, holding her tightly and stroking her head, trying to communicate to her his strength and his love, feeling her trembling against him like a crippled bird.

  ‘Forgive me, my love,’ he murmured against her wet cheek. ‘I’m so sorry. I was angry—with myself mostly—with my inability to deal with a situation thrust upon me at a time when the only thing I could think of was obtaining your freedom. Throughout this terrible ordeal you have shown a strength and courage no one seeing you could help but admire. Not for one moment did I intend to cause you pain after all you have been through. But I have been driven almost out of my mind with worry.’

  ‘I know,’ she said, standing back in his arms and smiling up at him through the tears she could no longer withhold. ‘I understand. These past weeks have not been easy for either of us.’

  Despite the warmth of the day she began to shiver and, seeing this, Stuart removed his cloak and draped it around her. Taking her hand, he assisted her into the carriage where Meredith joined her, John climbing in and sitting opposite. Stuart looked at his wife steadily, with eyes heavy with fatigue, and when he spoke his voice was quiet and perfectly level.

  ‘It may be for the best that you go with your cousins. They will take care of you. Perhaps when the events of the past weeks have been eased from your heart we can think about the future—to merrier times and the birth of the child.’ Gently, he caressed her cheek with the tips of his fingers, his expression very tender as he gazed into her eyes. ‘I’m truly sorry for what I said. It’s just that I can’t bear the thought of losing you again. I am delighted about the baby—’ his lips quirked in a smile ‘—and so you don’t doubt my loyalty or my love, we’re going to have the most handsome child, with the biggest, brightest blue eyes you’ve ever seen.’

  Blinking at the moisture that blurred her vision, Cassandra turned her face and brushed the palm of his hand with her lips. Her voice was hoarse with emotion when she spoke. ‘I have a fancy for a boy who has his father’s eyes and nose—but, providing it is sound in wind and limb, I shall be content.’

  ‘Will you not come with us, Captain Marston, and see Cassandra settled in?’ John asked.

  Stuart stepped back from the carriage. ‘No. No. Another time, perhaps. If I am needed, you know where I am.’

  Deeply conscious of Cassandra’s wretchedness, as the coach drew away Meredith took her hand and squeezed it affectionately. Cassandra’s behaviour and casual disregard for Meredith’s feelings following Nathaniel’s execution had hurt Meredith, but that had not stopped her worrying about Cassandra and praying for her with all her loving heart.

  ‘Everything is going to be all right now,’ she said softly. ‘You will get over this. I was most surprised when John told me of your marriage to Captain Marston—and I have to say that I like him. It is clear he cares for you a great deal.’

  ‘Poor Stuart. Little did he know when he married me that he would come to grief. Oh, Meredith! Why does so much pain have to come from loving?’ Cassandra murmured miserably.

  ‘You must try and put all that has happened behind you now. You have the child to think of.’

  Cassandra’s lips trembled into a weak smile. ‘Yes—yes, you are right, of course. I’m sorry, Meredith. I must look dreadful. Shockingly so.’

  ‘Nothing a tub of hot water and some soap won’t put right,’ she laughed, as practical as eve
r.

  Back in the large Elizabethan manor house in Chelsea, Cassandra’s strength gradually returned. The awful spectres of terror and the stench of Newgate Gaol began to leave her, but no matter how an anxious Meredith fussed over her constantly, giving her accounts of their neighbours and everyday life in Chelsea in an effort to revive her interests and spirits, she failed to smooth the lines of worry wholly from her face.

  Cassandra lived for the day when Stuart would come, and she clung to his parting words like a starving child clings to a crust of bread—that he would come to her and they would discuss the future, a future that was theirs to shape as they would—but deep inside her innermost self she was not convinced that he had meant what he said, that they were only words uttered to placate her in her distress. She was more than a little afraid that he would reject both her and the child completely.

  Knowing very little of the unfortunate spate of events that had befallen her since her wedding in Barbados, or the part Stuart had played in bringing her father to justice, John and Meredith listened as she told them everything that had happened to her since they had parted. Naturally John was astonished, unable to believe the coincidences that had brought two people together who, unbeknown to either of them, were linked by tragedy, and he deeply regretted that he had unwittingly told Stuart that Nathaniel Wylde had perished at the Battle of Worcester, and in so doing heralding consequences he could not have foreseen.

  The day was sultry and warm as Cassandra and Meredith walked along a narrow lane. The sleepy meadows on either side were strewn with daisies, the land shimmering in a haze of heat and evaporating on the horizon.

  As a result of Meredith’s generous compassion and care, and the peace and tranquillity she had found at Chelsea, the marks of Cassandra’s imprisonment had been erased. Gradually she had begun to return to the land of the living, to look around her and appreciate everything there was to see with the kind of thankfulness and gratitude that can only be felt by someone who has been on the brink of losing everything.

  They were heading in the direction of the house when they saw John strolling towards them accompanied by a gentleman. Cassandra’s eyes opened wide, disbelieving, everything around her vanishing in a haze when she recognised Stuart. His long muscular frame was well turned out in a slim-fitting scarlet coat and breeches, the coat curving away from his chest to reveal a matching waistcoat. Scorning the wearing of a wig, Stuart had his black hair tied neatly back with a black ribbon. White lace frothed at his throat and wrists and white silk stockings encased his muscular calves. Never had she seen him dressed like this, or look more handsome, and the transformation from a ship’s captain to a gentleman was immense—and yet the change was more substance than attire, for he still had the look of a sea captain and appeared most worldly.

  Her senses were heightened sharply by her growing awareness of him, and there was a quickening in her veins, which brought a sparkle to her eyes. She stopped and waited for him to come closer, conscious of only him, of the slight smile curving his handsome lips. His bronzed features still held that haughty arrogance she knew so well.

  The child chose that moment to divert her attention when it stirred inside her, invading her consciousness and making her wonder if Stuart had come to Chelsea out of duty rather than willingness. Drawing herself up proudly, she created an impression of cool reserve, her eyes as calm as the sea on a quiet day, telling herself resolutely that she would not succumb to the small voice at the back of her mind that urged her to throw herself at his head—not until she knew his intent.

  ‘She is looking a good deal better, is she not, Captain Marston?’ Meredith, the first to speak, smiled.

  ‘She is indeed. She looks glorious,’ Stuart replied, his voice rich and deep. He devoured Cassandra with his brooding eyes, dark and formidable. ‘Chelsea clearly suits her.’

  There was a moment of awkward silence, but quick-thinking Meredith took her brother’s arm.

  ‘Come, John. Walk with me back to the house. I’m sure these two have much to talk about. I must also inform Cook there will be a guest for dinner. You will dine with us, I hope, Sir Stuart?’

  ‘Yes—thank you.’

  Smiling timidly from one to the other, Meredith tactfully fell into step beside John, the two of them walking on ahead and leaving them alone.

  Chapter Sixteen

  His brow raised as he took in Cassandra’s detail, Stuart saw she was in the full bloom of her pregnancy, that its radiance reached right to the centre of her being. Her hair shone with a dazzling brilliance, pale and silver in the sunlight, and he was sure that her eyes, wide and clear, were bluer than he remembered. A deep contentment swam in their velvety depths. She had lost the tragic air that had been present when he’d parted from her, and the gaunt look and unhealthy pallor had been dispelled from her face. Her cheeks were rounded and a warm shade of pink, and there was a vulnerability that had been absent before. And yet the calm detachment in her eyes as she regarded him made him wary of her—wary of approaching too close too quickly.

  With the sun shining on her proud head, her face upturned to his, she looked radiant and sensuous in her pregnancy. He looked at her appreciatively, thinking what a gorgeous, exotic woman she was as he let his eyes dwell languidly on the full creamy mounds of her breasts, showing delectably above the heart-shaped neckline of her lavender-coloured dress, the extra folds of material about the waist comfortably accommodating the child growing steadily inside her.

  The silence that stretched between them seemed to last for an eternity. Cassandra was utterly composed, her eyes steadily looking into his with what he thought was total impartiality, and Stuart felt the first stirrings of alarm, for he couldn’t tell what she was thinking or feeling. Three weeks ago he would have known, but now he didn’t and he was both puzzled and perturbed by it. She had always been open and approachable, but now she was looking at him as if he were just a mere acquaintance.

  ‘How are you really, Cassandra?’

  Her delicate eyebrows rose. ‘I am well, as you see, thank you, Stuart,’ she replied lightly, somewhat bewildered by his own reserved manner, and his seeming reluctance to venture too close. His eyes lingered on hers, a yearning quality in their depths, but, regrettably, there was also a tension in his manner that suggested the struggle was unrelieved by the brief time they had spent apart.

  As she had watched him approach she had almost become two people. One was governed by the hurt and pain that spanned the time since Stuart had discovered Nathaniel Wylde was her father, and the other consumed by love and her need to have him hold her. Unaware that his aloofness had been brought about by the change he saw in her, it was the former that greeted him, which was coupled with doubt as to the sincerity of his visit, causing her to receive him with calm detachment, terrified of inviting new conflicts between them.

  ‘And what of you, Stuart?’ she enquired softly. ‘Would I be correct in assuming that by your grand attire you have not ridden from Bloomsbury?’

  ‘Quite correct. It’s such a lovely day I decided to come by river.’

  ‘Forever the sailor,’ she murmured. ‘And are you finding life on dry land agreeable?’

  ‘I must confess to finding it somewhat tedious. It always takes time to settle down after being at sea for so long—but no doubt I’ll soon adjust—as you have, I’m happy to see,’ he said softly, his gaze holding hers, ‘to being exonerated of any crime, and to being free of Newgate.’

  ‘Nevertheless, the time I spent in Newgate and my trial are still raw in my mind. It is not easy to erase something like that. I do not believe I could live through such torment again. My cousins have been good to me, and so very patient and understanding.’

  Stuart nodded slowly, a chill beginning to settle on his heart. She certainly wasn’t making it easy for him. Something was lost and he didn’t know how to deal with it or this new Cassandra. How was it possible that she could have changed so much in just three short weeks? He thought he knew her, her emot
ions and how her mind worked, but this new Cassandra, a Cassandra who seemed perfectly at home in serene, rural domesticity, evoked his surprise and puzzlement, prompting his mind to cry out for the adventuress in her to return.

  His mind flew back to the lovely young woman he had met and fallen in love with in Barbados, when she had been far removed from the restrictions that govern the lives of young English ladies. He remembered the time as if it were yesterday, of how she had dazzled him with her vivid beauty, how they had both been instantly and violently attracted to each other, and how he had acted as any warm-blooded male would have done and pursued her unashamedly.

  He remembered the thrill of excitement he had experienced when they had made love in the cave, and afterwards when he had made her his wife. Even when he had been made aware of her identity, which had driven a wedge between them, not once had he failed to admire the vibrancy and liveliness of her spirit.

  They walked a little way, Stuart being the first to break the uncomfortable silence that had settled between them.

  ‘I wouldn’t blame you if you are angry with me, Cassandra. I feel quite wretched about the way I behaved towards you on the day of the trial. My conduct and absolute disregard for your feelings after all you had been through were inexcusable.’

  Cassandra half turned towards him and smiled slightly. ‘Yes, they were. But what did you say that I did not deserve? I should have told you about the child, I know that now. But I wanted to wait until after the trial, should I be acquitted, not to use my condition as a means to an end—which is how it must have seemed to you.’

  Stuart looked at her, determined not to fail her this time. Staring down into her wide eyes that met his steadily, he saw that they did not soften under his long gaze but continued to hold a detachment, a calm watchfulness, which he was beginning to find infuriating.

  ‘I’ve thought of you constantly, Cassandra.’