Sibylla and the Privateer

by Marina Oliver

  Sibylla And The Privateer

  By

  Marina Oliver

  Eternal Press

  A division of Damnation Books, LLC.

  P.O. Box 3931

  Santa Rosa, CA 95402-9998

  www.eternalpress.biz

  Sibylla And The Privateer

  by Marina Oliver

  Digital ISBN: 978-1-61572-312-6

  Print ISBN: 978-1-61572-313-3

  Cover art by: Amanda Kelsey

  Edited by: Gwynn Morgan

  Copyedited by: Barbara Legge

  Copyright 2011 Marina Oliver

  Printed in the United States of America

  Worldwide Electronic & Digital Rights

  1st North American and UK Print Rights

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any form, including digital and electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For my husband Chris and children,

  all of whom are wonderfully supportive of my passion for writing.

  Chapter One

  As the gentle spring shower gave way to the pale sun, the couple who took shelter under the thick hedge of thorn looked up despondently.

  “I must go, Randolph,” the girl said. “I have dallied overlong, and my mother will scold if I am late.”

  “Surely you are not afeared for that, my brave Sibylla?” Laughing, her companion caught her hand and raised it to his lips, looking across at her as she laughed back at him.

  “Nay, I do not fear her. Why, she has always been most indulgent to me, how could I fear her? I have been late so often this last month though, since I have been meeting you, and I do not wish to draw my parents’ attention to it! They might keep closer watch on me, and then it would be more difficult for us to steal these hours together.”

  “My beloved, you will not allow them to prevent our meeting?”

  She shook her head vehemently. “Nought shall prevent that! Oh, my dear, it is so strange, I have known you for ten years, and only this last month have I felt this for you. When we are so clearly meant for each other, why have I but now realized it?”

  Swiftly he bent over her and kissed her cheek. “You are only sixteen, my love, and I have been away a great deal. We have not known each other except as children until now.”

  “I still should have realized it! I cannot understand that I did not.”

  “You used to think I was arrogant and unbearable,” he reminded her, laughing again.

  “That was when you came to visit Gerard, and would not allow me to join in your pursuits! I thought the same of Gerard. Yes, there were times when I detested you! How incredible! I must have been blind!”

  “You can see clearly now? Have I now no faults in your eyes?”

  She looked up at him, adoration in her eyes, but then she slowly shook her head. “There is one thing that disturbs me. Why do you insist our meetings be secret? I would be so proud to tell my parents, and you know I do not mind we will have to wait for years, until you have made your fortune.”

  He released her hand and sat staring in front of him, while she looked anxiously at his lean face admiring the handsome profile with the aquiline nose and firm chin at the same time as she wondered whether she had offended him. His dark hair fell forward over his shoulders. Sibylla longed to smooth it back and rub away the lines that creased his forehead. However, she was still a little shy of such demonstrations of affection, and sat quietly, her hand resting in her lap. Then he turned and smiled at her, his brown eyes looking into hers intently.

  “I am sorry, my dear. I had not realized it made you unhappy.”

  “No, no,” she protested, anxious now to take away the hurt she had dealt him by her criticism. “I wondered, but I am content to let it be as you wish.”

  “When the time is right, my lovely Sibylla, I will come to your parents. Will you be content with that?”

  “Of course. Anything as long as I can continue to meet you.”

  He pulled her to him, and kissed her passionately. Sibylla was breathless when he finally released her. She looked again at the sun, which was now shining brightly.

  “I really must go,” she said, regret sharpening her tone. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

  “I shall be if you will be.”

  At last she tore herself away, and ran as speedily as she could along the lane that wound between steep banks, dropping gradually towards the sea which Sibylla could see gleaming in the distance. After a while she turned aside and scrambled up the bank and through the hedge, and continued across a couple of fields until she came to her home, Greenways. It was a large but shabby looking half-timbered house, rambling around three sides of a square and merging into farm buildings dotted about at the back.

  Sibylla made for the kitchen door, and looked hungrily at the spit as she passed through. Annie, the maid who sat turning it, smiled at her.

  “It’s almost done, Mistress Sibylla. Your sisters were searching for you a few moments back.”

  “Thank you, Annie. It smells delicious.”

  She made her way through to the front of the house, thankful she was not late for dinner, and thus an object of her younger sisters’ curiosity, or her mother’s gentle rebukes. The family now ate in a small room away from the old hall which had been the main room of the house in her father’s youth. Sibylla crossed the huge, mostly empty space towards the dining parlor. She had almost reached the door when she heard her name called. She turned to see her father descending the stairs.

  “Ah, my dear, I have been looking for you. Where have you been?”

  Feeling guilty, Sibylla blushed. She hung her head to disguise her confusion. “I am sorry, sir, I did not know you wished for me. I was out walking, and the sun was so lovely after the rain that I dawdled.”

  She was angry with herself and a little of that anger spilled over towards Randolph. Why, oh why, did he insist on secrecy? He was poor, it was true, but of better birth than she, and on that account a most eligible match. He was handsome enough to have most of the girls in the district casting languishing glances at him. She was proud he loved her, and only too anxious to display it to the world. Occasionally a sneaking thought that he, perhaps, was not so proud of her, crept into her mind. She hastily dismissed it, remembering he had himself explained he wanted to make his fortune, and be worthy of her before claiming her as his own.

  While these thoughts flashed through her mind, her father descended the stairs and crossed the hall towards her. As he reached her he put his arm affectionately around her shoulders and they turned together to enter the dining parlor.

  “Your mother and I have been talking, and we consider it is time to show you to the world. Would you like to pay a visit to London?”

  Sibylla looked up, a gleam of delight in her eyes. A visit to that enchanting city was a dream of hers. Then she frowned, as she realized that if she left Devon, she would also have to leave Randolph. Her new found love for him was so intense and absorbing she could not contemplate this with any complacency. I must ask him whether he could contrive to be in London, she thought. Then she smiled at her father, who was looking
puzzled at this delay in her response.

  “I thought you would be delighted with the idea.”

  “Oh, I am, but I am surprised. When did you intend on going?”

  “It must be soon, and this time for a short visit only. I propose going at the end of the month, while I can still leave the farm, but we will look at the town and make arrangements to hire a house for a longer time later in the year. We can also purchase materials, and you and your mother can bring these home and make some new gowns during the summer.”

  Sibylla then felt more enthusiastic. Mayhap she could bear such a short parting, and it would undeniably be exciting to visit London. At that moment her sisters entered the room and were told of the plan. They were to be included in the hope, their mother laughingly told them following them into the room, that contact with such society would turn their minds away from the hoydenish pranks they enjoyed.

  Alison, a blonde fourteen-year-old, pouted and complained she supposed that meant they would have to pay attention the whole time to being presentable.

  “I do not see it matters how we look to visitors. They are not interested in us,” she said indignantly.

  “For my part, I would rather not see most of them,” the youngest, Cecilia, put in.

  “You will soon learn its importance,” Sibylla remarked, conscious of the immense gap that had opened between her and her sisters in the last few weeks.

  “Well, I trust I shall not become like you, forever preening and mooning before the glass,” Alison retorted. “You are not nearly so much fun as you used to be. I cannot imagine what has come over you.”

  “She must be in love,” Cecilia said thoughtfully. “Though who would want to be her sweetheart I cannot imagine. She has too sharp a temper.”

  “How dare you Cecilia, you little beast!” Sibylla blazed at her, taking refuge for her blushes in the temper she knew was one of her greatest faults.

  “Hush, my dear, do not take heed of her. Cecilia, you must not provoke your sister so,” their mother chided gently.

  “I will have to consider seriously which of you are fit to be taken into society,” Mr. Hurst said, attempted severity in his voice. A clamor of dismay assailed him, for whatever their protests, all of the girls were anxious to visit London.

  Their parents smiled fondly at them. They were unusually doting parents, thanking God continually for the blessing of these children. They had been married for almost fifteen years before Gerard, their only son, had been born when Elinor Hurst was nearing thirty. Then almost another ten years had elapsed before Sibylla had made her appearance, followed, when all had thought such events near impossible, by Alison and Cecilia.

  The rest of dinnertime was taken up with discussion of what they should do in London, and where they should stay. Sibylla was thankful Cecilia’s remark, true as it was, had been forgotten, though she determined to administer some punishment for the comments about her temper. Meanwhile she hugged to herself the thought of how surprised Cecilia and Alison would be that so handsome and admired a man as Randolph Stern was in fact her sweetheart.

  * * * *

  That evening the household was thrown into confusion by the unexpected arrival of Gerard, Sibylla’s brother, and two friends who, like him, were officers in the navy. Many of the Hursts had been seamen, and some had sailed with Hawkins and Drake. Gerard had resolved to follow in their footsteps, promising his father, who had himself left the navy at the time of the great rebellion, that he would become a country squire when his father felt the management of the estate had become too burdensome for him.

  Now Gerard appeared on one of his infrequent visits, telling them he was bound for Plymouth and had invited his friends to stay at Greenways. Mistress Hurst made them welcome, and supper that night was a happy affair. The two young men, Charles Cartwright and Thomas Pendawn, paid flattering attention to Sibylla and Alison, and the latter was abashed to be discovered at bedtime preening in front of the glass in Sibylla’s room in one of her sister’s new gowns.

  “So, you do not wish to care what people think of you?” Sibylla inquired amusement in her voice. “Fie, Alison! You are far too young for such fripperies. Go back to your schoolroom and your hoydenish pranks. They become one of your tender years better than dressing up in borrowed plumage and making believe you are a desirable young lady!”

  “Oh!” Alison was speechless with mortification. She dragged off the gown, heedless of Sibylla’s admonishment not to tear it, and ran from the room. Sibylla laughed softly, and picked the garment up to replace it in the press.

  She went about preparations for bed humming softly to herself. She was pleased to see her brother, for she had always worshipped Gerard, and despite the difference in their ages, had accompanied him frequently on his pursuits about the countryside until he had joined the navy. An added reason for her happiness was the thought Randolph would be visiting the house, for he and Gerard had been friends in their boyhood, and had attended the nearby grammar school together.

  Now, visiting Gerard, he could visit the house, and mayhap, she thought with pleasurable anticipation, her parents would invite him to continue his visits after Gerard had gone away. Then, surely, their secret love for one another would be revealed to her parents, a development she was most anxious for, since she hated the deception she was forced to practice.

  * * * *

  The very next morning her expectations proved correct. Randolph appeared, explaining he had heard in the village that Gerard was at home. He was invited to stay for dinner and concentrated attentions on his host and hostess in between discussing naval and political events with Gerard and his friends. He paid Sibylla some compliments, and was gratifyingly attentive to the two younger girls, who were excited and a trifle bewildered at this unusual amount of masculine attention they were receiving, both from Randolph and Gerard’s friends.

  Still, Randolph was careful not to pay Sibylla too much notice, though he contrived to whisper to her that he would be at their usual rendezvous in an hour’s time. She nodded, smiling, and promised to be there. When they met, they laughed together at the difficulty they had had not to keep gazing at one another during dinner. Sibylla suggested her hopes that he could become an accepted visitor at the house which would enable them to meet easily.

  “Not so delightfully as now though, my little love,” he said, holding her close.

  “No,” she agreed, “but I would like to feel that my parents knew of our attachment. Why have you never visited us? Most of the other families round about visit regularly.”

  He sighed. “My father was an early supporter of Parliament, while all the other landowners nearby were for the King. They ostracized the family, and all visiting stopped for us during the wars. Oh, I went to school with their sons, and I sometimes went to the homes of my school friends, but I was never made very welcome. After my parents died, I did not care to continue the grudging acquaintance they offered.”

  “That is all over now, though Charles Stuart is still hoping to regain the throne. Why, even Gerard is employed in the navy! It is pointless to retain old enmities.”

  “I agree, and I would now resume acquaintances, but I have been away from Devon so much I am considered a stranger when I do appear. You must encourage Gerard to renew our friendship while he is here.”

  * * * *

  Sibylla promised to do all in her power to encourage this. Accordingly, at supper that night she spoke of Randolph, recalling the times she had accompanied him and Gerard on some exploit in the past when she had been little more than a baby.

  “I am sure you both resented my presence,” she laughed, “but in general you were kind, and allowed me to join you.”

  “Randolph was often reluctant,” Gerard said, amused. “I was myself, but preferred to take you rather than suffer the consequences of giving you a refusal!”

  Cecilia la
ughed. “Did she scream if you refused her?” she asked maliciously.

  Gerard looked affectionately at Sibylla, smiling to take away the sting of his words. “She lay on the floor and kicked, after she discovered she was unable to kick me. Once she held her breath and went blue in the face. I was terrified, for her nurse was not there and I did not know what to do.”

  “What happened?” asked Cecilia, clearly amused.

  “One of my dogs came in and licked her face, and she said he tickled her! She forgot her anger with me.”

  There was general laughter, even Sibylla joining in.

  “You have other methods of persuading young men to do your bidding now, Mistress Sibylla,” Mr. Cartwright said with meaning in his voice, and Sibylla looked gratefully at him.

  “I promise I do not scream or kick now,” she said. “Why did you not maintain your friendship with Randolph?” she went on, turning back to Gerard.

  He shrugged. “We were not really close even at school. Now we have different tastes, and our ways have parted. I thought he was looking more prosperous than last time we met a year or so ago, in London,” he commented, turning to his father. “At least, this time, he did not try to borrow money, which he has invariably before whenever we met.”

  “He is like his father then,” Mr. Hurst said thoughtfully. “John Stern was always feckless, and could never keep any money he had. I wonder where Randolph has obtained his? That ring he wore must have cost a small fortune.”

  “I expect he is borrowing on his expectations,” Gerard mused. “I heard he is betrothed to an heiress. No doubt he is capitalizing on that.”

  Sibylla clutched her napkin between tense fingers, and closed her eyes. It could not be true! It was not true! Randolph loved her! He could not be betrothed to another.

  Faintly, as if in a dream, she heard her mother anxiously enquiring if she felt ill. She opened her eyes and gazed vacantly around, and then grasped at the excuse so offered.