Treasure

by W. A. Hoffman

  The Marquis stepped forward, Dupree at his shoulder to translate. “And we will pay no dowry: not for a girl who runs about in men’s clothing, despite her uncle, the Duke of Verlain, being an old friend.”

  Modyford tweaked his pursed lips thoughtfully, and nodded. “Well, then, that is settled, Sir Christopher. Your daughter will be properly married.”

  “But nay,” Christopher sputtered and turned beseeching eyes upon his daughter. “I do not wish for you to marry someone you do not favor. I did this for you. You wished to marry Lord Marsdale.”

  Christine shook her head with a mix of confusion and anger. “I no longer wish to marry Lord Marsdale. And you have gone mad. And you have ruined my name. I will marry anyone to leave your house. Lord Montren has made me a very fine offer, and I will marry him. If I am the harlot you have made me out to be, you have nothing to gain or lose, no matter who I marry.”

  Gaston was regarding me with anxious eyes. I smiled weakly and nodded, and he seemed greatly relieved.

  Modyford was walking toward the door.

  “Governor!” I called.

  He stopped, and turned to me with a curious look.

  “Is my sister safe?” I asked.

  Everyone became very still, and Modyford frowned.

  “I know of no one who intends to harm her,” Modyford said carefully after some thought.

  “That is good to hear,” I said. “I am pleased you are so well apprised of the situation: as the last we spoke of such things, I only had poor news to give you, and could only implore you to aid in her protection while we sailed.”

  This caught him off guard; and I saw the mask of diplomacy shift a little, first with fear he had been caught, and then angriness at it. “Due to your concern I made inquiries,” he said quickly. “I have come to believe your concern was unfounded.”

  I smirked. “Give your regards to my father, would you? Tell him we wish to hear from him, and not merely feel his presence in our lives.”

  He took a deep breath and his pleasantly amicable mask settled into its accustomed position. “If I should ever have the honor of corresponding with your father, I shall relay that.”

  He looked to Sir Christopher, who appeared quite confused over our exchange. “We should be going. You should perhaps have your daughter’s things boxed and sent here so that she might have a dress to be married in.”

  Sir Christopher gave his daughter one last beseeching look, but she kept her eyes steadfastly on the tiles of the floor. He left with his head hanging low between his corpulent shoulders.

  Everyone descended on me as the door closed in their wake. I sat heavily under the onslaught of their questions and my own dismay. Gaston came to sit beside me and take my hand, and pull it beneath the table to hold it tightly with both of his. I did not wish to meet his eyes: I wished to think.

  There was a livid purple bruise about my left wrist. I imagined there was a matching one on my right, which Gaston now held in his lap. I was scared to view my ankles, and as I now sat, could think of no way of doing so without drawing attention to the matter.

  Sarah was before me, and she pounded the table with both hands. “What is happening, Will?”

  I met her angry and scared gaze. “It is possible Father wishes for me to abandon the current Lady Marsdale in favor of another, and he made arrangements with the Governor to insure it.”

  I looked to Theodore.

  His expression was grave. “That is possible. I did not make mention of it before, because the governor is prone to gossip and finds delight in it, but he has often asked me of your intentions toward your wife. This morning it was his first question as they came to fetch me here. I said I felt you had made a decision, and that it was to keep her. Modyford was not pleased with that answer, and I thought it very odd until I heard that Vines knew his daughter was here. He had her followed when she left his home. I was quite surprised the governor would wish to become involved in the matter, and the only explanation I could muster was because you are a lord. But, in viewing the matter from this new supposition, I think it offers their behavior far sounder reason.”

  Sarah slumped into a chair across from me, her face a mask of horror. “If it is true, then aye, I have no protection when Striker roves. I should have expected such… but…”

  “The governor seems as prone to curry favor with lords as he does to gossip,” I said. “We should have expected it, but… would he have contacted our father, or did his inquiries alert our father?”

  “Nay and perhaps,” Theodore said quickly. “I do not think he would have contacted your father directly.”

  “My father had me followed?” Christine demanded.

  “Aye,” Theodore said with a shrug. “He was quite proud of it. He thought it likely you would attempt to run away again after this matter of the possible marriage to Lord Montren, and so he apparently arranged things so that you would have the opportunity to escape, and he had someone in place to see where you would go.”

  “He would not have,” she said with a perplexed frown. “He could not have,” she added arrogantly. “I saw none of his men and I was quite careful.”

  “Miss Vines,” Theodore asked with a pleasant smile, “could you recognize all the men the governor might employ?”

  “Nay, of course not,” she said quickly. “But my father is not the governor’s man. The one time the governor asked my father to intervene in a matter of the council, my father considered it at length and only decided to do as the governor bid because it was truly the course of action he himself would take.”

  “Your father wished for you to marry me,” I said. “Because that is what he thought you wished. You called him mad this day. Was he acting as he normally does?”

  “Nay, nay,” she said quietly.

  “So,” Sarah said, “our father quite possibly contacted Modyford and asked him to… discover whether you planned to put her out? Or was it to insure that you put her out? I can see why he might not wish to write and ask for such a thing. Committing such a request to writing with his seal might not have been in his best interests, and he is ever so careful about putting ink to paper if he cannot control that paper. So much so…” She frowned. “That it makes me wonder what means he might have used to convey the information to Modyford.”

  Theodore shook his head. “Many people in England and here employ couriers or men trusted to relay things best not committed to paper. Any ship traveling to England usually contains several such men. Many of the captains and officers make a handsome sum of money providing that service. Your father likely has employed someone to bring messages here.” He sighed heavily. “That I was not involved in the arrangement of such services, and have not received letters or directives from such a person, indicates that your father does not feel I am his man.”

  “Now that you know of the possibility of it, can you make discreet inquiries?” I asked.

  Theodore nodded. “Oh aye, now that I know if it.” There was anger in his eyes.

  “Why would he want her out?” Christine asked. “Your father, not mine.”

  I sighed. “From what we have been able to suppose, the marriage was arranged so that my father could pay some, if not all, of her father’s debts in exchange for her father’s compliance in the House of Lords or elsewhere with some matter. Perhaps that relationship is no longer necessary. Or, perhaps, my father truly wishes for me to produce an heir that is actually of my blood – as damn near any grandfather would -- and feels that her reputation will always cast doubt upon that: but because of the arrangement with her father, and his lack of trust of me – in that I might divulge his request to others – he did not wish to ask me to put her out directly. I have been waiting for some order from him concerning the matter, but he has not chosen to correspond – that we have received – with Sarah or me since her arrival here. Of course, if I put my wife out without his agreement to it – in writing – he can use the matter against me to weaken my claim to my inheritance.”

 
; “I remember you mentioning that things were complicated with your father in that regard, but I did not realize…” Christine said. She appeared embarrassed.

  “As always,” Sarah said bitterly, “we cannot know what our father thinks.”

  “Well, we can no longer rely on the governor or militia to protect you should your damn cousin arrive,” Striker said. He appeared as grave as Theodore. “I should not sail.”

  “We were fooling ourselves to think they would offer protection,” I said sadly. “Gaston and I needed to sail, and Pete and you needed to sail, and thus none of us were going to stay with her, so I concocted that arrangement with the governor in order to protect her. But truly, there is no protection from an earl unless it is from a duke or king. My father could sail here and snatch her up and return her home at any time. Though I do feel that Shane sailing in, even bearing my father’s name, might meet with more difficulty. The aspect of the matter I was truly relying on last spring was that, with Shane being wounded, they would not travel. And that Shane is the type of man who wishes to harm another in person and not send an assassin.”

  “Wait,” the Marquis said to me as Dupree was halfway through translating.

  Though I could see that Striker and Sarah had much to say, I could see the confusion in Christine and the Marquis’ eyes.

  So I started speaking, in French, before the Marquis could ask his question. “My father wishes for my second cousin, Jacob Shane, to inherit. Shane stayed and became a part of my father’s dealings when I fled my father’s estate at sixteen – primarily because of Shane. But that is another tale I do not feel like telling. Suffice it to say that both were dismayed to realize I still lived when I returned to the family estate three years ago. Without me, my father could have adopted Shane. As it was, Shane had decided to marry into the family, and when our sister Elizabeth was betrothed, he set his eye on Sarah. My return disrupted his plans in several ways, and he became quite angry with her. When he found I was involved in the aborting of his plan, he attacked her, and she defended herself by shooting him. In the resulting chaos, he dropped a wine bottle and lamp and severely burned himself. My father was quite distraught, more so that his beloved Shane should be so injured and marred, than that his daughter had been attacked. It was suggested that Sarah leave for a time. So she came here with my uncle – who was also quite disturbed at his brother’s behavior, and thought she should be married off in order to protect her – and thus she met and married Striker. We have heard no word from my damn father as to whether he approves or accepts their marriage.” I shrugged. “We have heard no word from our father.”

  The Marquis nodded sagely. “How long ago did this occur?”

  “The incident in England was just over a year ago, I suppose,” I said. “Sarah – and my bride – arrived in January of this year.”

  He spoke to Sarah and me, and motioned for Dupree to translate for the others. “I feel he could not have traveled this year. I know how long it took to arrange my voyage here. Does he know you are with child?”

  Sarah shrugged. “If he has spies on this island, he has surely heard. For that matter, I am sure our uncle told him.”

  He smiled grimly, and his gaze went to Striker. “Prior to the last few years, when I have had much reason to examine my conscience and view matters differently than I had before, if one of my daughters had hastily married a man I did not approve of, and she was with child such that it could not be annulled, I would have…” He shrugged eloquently. “Seen that she was widowed.”

  Sarah pressed her fingers to her lips and looked away.

  Striker smiled affably. “Aye, I have often thought that, and we have discussed it.”

  I was not surprised or appalled; I had thought such a thing myself. I grinned. “On two occasions my life was threatened for my relationship with some man’s son. And we will not count the times concerning daughters.”

  The Marquis shrugged and regarded Gaston and me. “There was a time…” Then he grinned. “But as things stand, I am still amazed you have not shot me.”

  “Your realizing that has done much to increase your longevity.” I said lightly.

  He chuckled.

  “Well,” Striker said, “there haven’t been any attempts on my life, yet. If he wants me dead, perhaps he thinks roving’ll save him the trouble.”

  “Perhaps that is how he will attain it, if it is a thing he wishes,” the Marquis said after hearing the translation. “Men are easy enough to place in harm’s way when military endeavors are involved.”

  Striker frowned at that, but he at last shook his head. “I was asked to do dangerous things in Porto Bello – after I married her, but… among the Brethren, a captain is expected to lead from the front, and we gain extra shares for acts of valor. I took Morgan asking me to do as I did as a sign of his respect. And if I don’t rove…”

  “It is a matter of prestige,” Sarah said sadly.

  “If Modyford has recruited Morgan to the cause, it would be very easy to throw you to the fates again and again,” I told Striker, “but I do not feel Morgan would be easily enlisted unless he dislikes you for some other reason – just as Vines had to have his reason. But as for our father seeing you dead by other means, if that is his desire, you may well be safest roving. Here, even with Pete ever at your side and weapons about, you would be a very easy target for an accomplished assassin. But roving, I cannot see where his agent might find a member of the Brethren easy to buy on such a matter; and placing a man in our ranks to fire carelessly in battle or some such thing, that will take him time – not that he has not possibly had such time. Sadly, if they truly wish us dead, the only way to prevent it is to kill them first and hope they have not left funds to pay for the deed with someone else.”

  “So we wait,” Sarah said with sudden resolve. “And do what we will.” She brushed the tears from her eyes and smoothed her skirt over her belly as she stood.

  Striker went to embrace his wife, his mien one of forced cheer.

  Pete stood still, a resolute statue of bronze with crossed arms. He met my gaze. “Iffn’AThing HappensICanna’Stop. I’llBeTheLastLivin’ ThingYarFatherSees. TellMeHowTaFind’Im.”

  I nodded. “Should I write it down for you to keep, or should we work on your memorizing it over the coming days?”

  He shrugged. “Both.”

  “If I am not dead, I would accompany you on that errand,” I said.

  Pete grinned. “Aye, I’dLookFurYa.”

  Gaston, who had been notably silent through all the discussion, squeezed my hand and said, “Jamaica must be baptized.”

  “Oui,” I said. “I must lay public claim to her.”

  Sarah was regarding us. She shook her head and spoke English for all, even though she had overheard our French. “To thwart him? You will make yourself miserable to anger our father? You would have been happier to do what he wished. And though I would never play his advocate, his actions, however contrived, were in your favor this time.”

  “We had decided the matter before today,” I said with some irritation. “I will claim the child as mine. And the woman I marry, or remain married to, has little to do with my happiness.”

  She frowned and quickly shook her head irritably. “That is not what I meant. I am sorry if you perceived it that way. I am saying that the one you are married to will cause you – and likely the rest of us – trouble until she dies. I did not realize you intended to keep her.”

  “We will not keep her here,” I sighed.

  Sarah glanced at Christine, who was studying the tiles thoughtfully.

  “Gaston’s wife will not live here, either,” I added.

  This brought a frown to Christine’s forehead, but Sarah sighed.

  Then she cursed in a manner that would have done her husbands proud. “I am sorry, I do not mean… I should relish the company.”

  “It is your house,” I said. “I learned long ago that houses only have one mistress, if they are happy houses.”

 
; But this brought to mind the fact that we could not deposit Vivian and Christine in the same dwelling, either.

  I looked to Theodore. “We will need to rebuild the other house. Until my father says otherwise, it is still to be used by the Lady Marsdale.”

  He nodded glumly. “I was beginning to sense that.” He stood and smiled. “If you will excuse me. I have much to think on and do.”

  I stood and embraced him. “We will sort it all through.”

  “Aye,” he sighed. He gazed at me earnestly when I released him. “I am sorry I have given you such poor advice.”

  “I am sorry you feel you have ever done such a thing,” I said. “I surely do not feel that you have.”

  He snorted. “You are too kind.” He sighed and regarded Gaston. “Should I return the baby?”

  Gaston shook his head. “Nay, I will return her.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Jamaica is visiting her mother,” Gaston said.

  I recalled he had been standing in the parlor doorway when I had been summoned into the fray. That door still stood open now: along with the shuttered window opening into the atrium. Vivian had surely heard everything.

  I would need to speak with her. I was damn glad Gaston had seen to her this morning – but then he had been responsible for my not being in a state to do so. It was with effort I kept myself from examining my wrists and ankles. I was relieved the others had either been so distracted by events to not notice, or polite enough not to make remark of it.

  What was I going to wear to disguise them for going to the church to arrange a baptism? What was Vivian going to wear? What was Christine going to wear? How fast did we truly need to react? Were messages even now being written and a ship readied to sail to carry them? How much time did we have?

  “Then I will speak with you later,” Theodore was saying and bowing.

  I returned the gesture and remembered to smile.

  Gaston’s arm was tight about my shoulder and he was dragging me to the stable. I did not protest.

  “Did I do wrong?” he whispered urgently once we were alone. “I did not perceive the matter as my father or you did.”