The English Lily (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll)

by Wheeler, Kae Elle

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “Do numbers appear backwards?”

  “Y-yes,” she whispered.

  “Headaches? Dizziness?”

  “Y-yes…only when I attempt t-to read.”

  “And…what of instruction, Lady Kate?” His voice was so gentle she feared she would break down into a muddled mess as his feet. “How long are you out of the schoolroom?”

  “A…a l-long t-time, sir. I h-had to h-hide from my governess. My f-father finally g-gave up on h-having me instructed.” She was stuttering in her humiliation. Self-loathing had her stomach roiling, threatening to empty its contents.

  “I believe I can help you, Lady Kate. While I cannot promise you will feel like reading Bernard de la Harpe’s Explorations in the Great Plains of the New World, I can assure you I’m able to offer you ideas to make it easier for you to understand what you are seeing.”

  Kendra blinked quickly. “Do you really think so?”

  “I do,” he smiled.

  ****

  For the third day in a row, Kendra had her head in a book with Charles Thomas at her side. Joseph was ready to chew up the rope holding the anchor. He’d yet to have a single word with his future bride since she’d chased him from her cabin after that miraculous recovery.

  He could not fathom what she saw in the studious schoolmaster. Joseph scowled. But she smiled at Thomas like he hung the moon. Her every waking moment was spent in the man’s company, to the point other passengers were beginning to talk.

  Some comfort was found in the fact that even Niccòlo was put off by her constant association with the schoolmaster. But after his initial irritation, Niccòlo seemed to find refuge in Juliette Chylton’s attentions. That part didn’t bother Joseph.

  Joseph thought to invite Kendra’s natural tendency toward envy by engaging Rebecca Selwyn in frequent conversation, but to no avail. Not only did Kendra take no notice of his actions, she never seemed to consider there to be anything out of the ordinary.

  And talk about an imbécile. Rebecca was sly and vindictive in her renditions of everyone on board. If he had to listen to one more petty observation on how plain Winifred Digby was, he would likely toss Miss Selwyn overboard—or himself.

  Joseph rose from his seat, desperate for air. He made his pardons to the offending Miss Selwyn. But in that moment he caught the particularly menacing scowl Bute bore toward Kendra.

  Joseph bit his tongue and eased himself back down. “So, Bute. Any headway on that search for a new…” How he longed to say “broodmare.” “…bride?”

  Bute took a long draw on his cheroot before answering. “The moment escaped, I fear, but I shall prevail soon enough,” he murmured. His gaze, glowering with malevolence, never strayed from Kendra.

  Mon Dieu! She certainly knew how to pick her foes. Joseph hid a grin.

  Kendra and Thomas stood, ready to escape the confines of the dining hall. Joseph envied their obvious camaraderie. He would follow. Lady Kendra didn’t know it yet, but she had a protector. The two slipped out, and Joseph rose, as well, but Miss Selwyn stayed him with a hand on his arm.

  “Are you leaving so soon, my lord?” She fluttered her eyes in a manner he assumed she meant as flirtatious. Unfortunately, it looked more like she was attempting to flail an insect.

  “Oui, mademoiselle. I’ve urgent business.” He paused. “Is something wrong with your eye?”

  Two high spots of red appeared on her cheeks. Her hand dropped away. “No. Thank you, sir.”

  Joseph bowed his head in retreat and backed from the room.

  ****

  With an exasperated sigh, Kendra lifted her chin and reveled in the cool breeze on her face. Each instruction Mr. Thomas added made her head throb. “Have you family in Sunderland still, Mr. Thomas?”

  “My mother is still there. You are changing the subject,” he chastised, but he patted her gloved hand and chuckled. “I know ’tis overwhelming, Lady Kate, but time and practice will serve you well. Mark my words.”

  “Do you think I’ll ever be…normal?”

  He stopped abruptly and faced her, his expression grave. “Let us be clear on one point, my lady. ’Tis nothing to do with ‘normal.’ Your auditory skills are exceptional. You answer questions precisely and accurately.” He paused as if trying to soften difficult news. “You…process information differently than others. I’ve no idea why. Mayhap no one ever shall.” He turned and resumed their stroll. “But I believe it’s survivable. I believe repetition may be key.”

  “Repetition,” she repeated.

  “Hmm. I wonder…” he said, his demeanor contemplative. “When you look at words, what do you see?”

  “See? I don’t understand. I see letters that make my eyes feel crossed,” she huffed, irritated. But of course, Mr. Thomas was the epitome of good-natured, unending patience. That should not make her feel sullen.

  “What if you try looking at words like a picture? Consider the shape. Something you could memorize on sight. Latin root words could prove extremely beneficial in that regard.”

  “Latin root words,” she repeated.

  “So, let us review,” Mr. Thomas said.

  Kendra inhaled deeply and recited, “Draw letter and number patterns with my fingers. On any surface. If no surface is available, use my knee. And practice every day.”

  “Very good, Lady Kate. Since most words are derived through Latin, and we already know Latin helps with vocabulary development, I believe it may help in making things not so overwhelming. Eventually. I happen to have an excellent Latin text. We shall start first thing tomorrow.”

  Kendra swallowed a groan at the supreme efforts she’d decided to undertake. Obvious enthusiasm underscored Mr. Thomas’s matter-of-fact solutions to her dilemma. She was happy to be his guinea pig, so to speak, although referring to herself as a pig of any sort seemed a bit extreme. She blew out a steady breath. At least she was finally taking action, rather than reacting and beating her head against a stone wall.

  “Yes.” She nodded slowly. “Yes. ’Tis an excellent stratagem, sir. I shall look forward to it, immense—”

  A strange whistle hissed passed Kendra, ending in a thud that felled her hard to her knees.

  From somewhere above, the first mate yelled incoherently, and the ship pitched in a violent lurch.

  “What on earth?” She blinked through the pain. A flash of heat touched her face. She darted a glance about, and gasped. She counted two—no, three—small fires. In the rigging, on the sails, and one in a pile of ropes.

  “Lady Kate—”

  Fear, stark and vivid, pulsed through her veins. “Mr. Thomas, I fear something is very wrong, sir.” Her voice shook with her effort to speak, she was so startled.

  “Lady—”

  She looked down and saw that he’d landed flat on his back. “You’ve fallen, sir.” In fact, he’d pulled her down when he fell.

  “Not—fallen—” He was struggling for air. “Shot,” he whispered. “Take cover, milady.”

  But all Kendra heard was “shot.” She didn’t even know what that meant. “I-I don’t understand, sir.”

  “Go!” His fingers squeezed her arm. She could barely comprehend him for all the commotion. Men were screaming orders, running in all directions. “Go,” he said again in a strangled tone. His grip relaxed, his eyes went blank.

  “Mr. Thomas?” Her eyes, then her fingers, strayed to a large dark stain spreading across his waistcoat; warm moisture, thicker than water, saturated her white glove. Blood. “Mr. Thomas, please...” Unbearable pain squeezed her chest. She couldn’t breathe.

  He was dead. There would be no studying of Latin texts in the morning. No reading lessons. No bantering about the “b” and the “d” looking so similar yet different.

  Suddenly she was jerked to her feet. “Hide, missy! There’s pirates climbin’ aboard.” The boatswain shoved her toward the companionway.

  She ran, tripped on the stairs, tumbled to the bottom, crawled to her feet, and kept
running.

  ****

  The first blast had Joseph crouching down into a most ungainly position. “What the hell!” he bit out, confused. The ship heaved, precariously. It was a man’s frantic scream that had the terror surging though his blood, firing him into action.

  He rushed through the passage and up the companionway.

  In a matter of moments, he heard the captain bellowing, “Pirates!” Men scrambled about, haphazardly in all directions, no rhyme, no order.

  “All hands on deck!”

  “To arms!”

  Sickening dread surged through him. A second explosion rocked the boat, throwing him hard against the bulkhead. Immobilized by fear, Joseph froze, but only for an instant. He hustled back the way he’d come and noted the faces of his fellow companions: Confusion, anxiety, trepidation.

  He spoke softly. “I realize this may be impossible, but you need to remain calm.” It was their only hope, if they had any at all. “Might I suggest you retreat to your cabins as quickly and quietly as possible.”

  The horror in Niccòlo’s young face would haunt him forever. But, like his older brother Alessandro, the man did not give in to his fear. Niccòlo nodded once, and began organizing the group firmly, his efforts keeping them relatively composed.

  Dear God, Kendra!

  He had to find Kendra.

  Joseph darted up on deck near the stern. A lit clay pot rolled nearby. Powder flasks. Joseph dove for cover. Bits of iron and glass exploded above his head. Fires lighted the sky on both the fore and main topsails. Keeping low and in what shadows he could find, Joseph searched.

  A futile endeavor amid the chaos.

  A sickening lurch punched his gut at the first clash of metals.

  He scanned the faces of the fighters. No one held her in their grasp. That meant one of two things. She was lying dead somewhere or had somehow escaped the deck and hidden below. He prayed for the latter.

  Joseph would do her no good if he got himself gutted. He edged his way to the passage, stepping over carnage. The crew was putting up a good fight. Joseph was able to scavenge a cutlass and a flintlock pistol along the way. His body screamed to run, but that would draw attention. He had to find Kendra. Thomas would be no match against the raiders—he tripped.

  Terror halted any remaining coherence. The contents of Joseph’s stomach threatened rebellion, but he swallowed back the bile. Thomas would indeed be helping no one. He lay flat on his back, blood pooled at his belly, eyes wide. Joseph leaned down, offered a short prayer, and passed his hand over Charles Thomas’s eyes to close them.

  Desperate now, he darted for the companionway.

  Joseph reached Kendra’s cabin and tried the door. Locked. “Kendra! Open the door.”

  Nothing.

  He kicked it in. Panic filled him when he didn’t see her, but then—relief.

  Joseph slammed the door. He shoved her trunk before it to keep it from swinging open. She hovered in a corner, clutching that damned doll.

  He rushed over. “Thank God,” he whispered. He crouched down next to her. “Thank God,” he said again, touching his forehead to hers.

  “Joseph? Lord Lawrie?” Her voice cracked. Her white glove was no longer white. He wished he could have protected her from that.

  Leaning back, he peeled the stained fabric away.

  Her hand clenched. “My hands—”

  He brushed his lips over the tiny scars. “Your hands are perfect,” he said. “We’ll have to marry, you know.”

  “Married. I’ve dreamed of marrying,” she whispered, smiling. Her eyes were dry, but in them he read the shock and fear.

  Something tight squeezed Joseph’s chest, and he found he could hardly breathe. Death hovered over them. While he might fail in creating bliss for Kendra’s last moments on this earth, he could offer her the whimsical fairytale.

  Joseph dropped her hand and cupped her head with both hands. “Lady Kendra Frazier, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife, mademoiselle, s’il vous plaît?”

  With a stately incline of her head, she replied with a trembling smile. “I shall be honored, Viscount Lawrie, Chevalier Joseph Pinetti Gray. Lord Hardwick’s Marriage Act was put in force in Scotland in fifty-four, so we’ve no need to post the banns.” A small hysterical laugh erupted. “Shall we escape to Gretna Green, my lord?”

  Her spirit touched him as nothing else could. Even in the throes of shock and danger, she managed to recall his full proper name and title. He pulled her to him as heavy steps echoed on the wooden planks just beyond the door. But for a moment he could pretend they would live a long and fruitful life together. “Oui, Gretna Green suits my purposes, perfectly, love,” he whispered against her lips, before crushing them beneath his own.

  Her trunk was shoved harshly aside as the door crashed open.

  Chapter Six

  She cowered in her cabin, but all was useless against the pirates smashing in the door. Her trunk slid across the room from the violence of their intrusion. Their stink, vile; their manners, coarse. Splintered wood flew in all directions, the door broken beyond repair. But when Joseph touched her lips in a tender kiss, he quashed her every fear. She couldn’t have dreamed such a romantic proposal. A tarnished knight shining through an agony of…

  Kendra woke, startled, heart pounding.

  Warm moist air stirred against her neck, and an unfamiliar weight rendered her legs immobile. Straw scratched her backside. She rubbed matted eyes with a bare fist before she mustered them open. Clutched in the other hand, absurdly gloved, was the gypsy doll. She’d thought it a dream, but its black hair tickled her nose.

  Sunlight streamed through slatted wood, adding more confusion to her befuddled mind. And why couldn’t she move? Bits and pieces filtered through her fogged brain. ’Twas odd, but it seemed the ship had quit rocking. No water slapped port and starboard. No crude language reached her ears from the boatswain or the first mate. No waft of salty sea air tantalized her nostrils, just dust and the smell of horses. Horses?

  She tried again to dislodge her legs, jingling the doll’s bangles and jewels. At the sound of a deep masculine groan, she froze, throat constricted.

  “My head feels as if an anchor is holding it under water.”

  Joseph!

  Had they been imprisoned? Still she couldn’t move her legs.

  He nuzzled his nose in the crook of her neck and tugged her closer to his body. Every word came rushing back. Marriage. Kendra struggled to move and realized his arm braced her about the waist like an iron band. His breath teased her hair, his lips spreading unexpected desire to prickle her skin.

  “Lord Lawrie? Joseph?”

  “What is it?” He actually growled.

  “I’m very frightened, sir. I don’t hear water,” she said softly. “I fear we’ve been captured and thrown in the hold. Where are the pirates, do you suppose?”

  His lashes whispered across her skin as he seemed to digest her words. He shifted his body from hers, rose slowly, and squinted at the light. It left her curiously bereft. Kendra sat up.

  “Pirates,” he repeated. “There were pirates.” He glanced about. “I don’t believe we’re in the hold. There wouldn’t be sunlight.”

  She blew out a held breath. “Yes, yes,” she nodded quickly, relieved. Her eyes found the large dark stain on her skirt. Mr. Thomas’s blood. She glanced up to see his gaze locked on the same spot. Revulsion filled her, and she choked back a cry. “Mr. Thomas...”

  He pulled her to her feet and against his chest. His heart pounded against her ear. “There was nothing you could do, my lady.” His voice rumbled through her.

  “But he—”

  He tightened his embrace. “Nothing,” he repeated. “Let us not speak of it again.”

  Kendra nodded against him, unable to stem the tears. After a moment, he set her away from him and moved about.

  Joseph Pinetti Gray was a very attractive man, even with his hair disheveled and bits of hay stuck throughout. She had the strangest u
rge to run her fingers through those dark locks and smooth them into some order.

  “Mayhap we’ve moved into the afterlife.” She lifted a hand to push her hair back. The hideousness of seeing the scars in broad daylight had her shoving that hand into the folds of her skirt.

  A horse whinnied.

  “I-I don’t understand.”

  He flashed a wolfish grin. It was lewd enough to flare heat in her cheeks. “I doubt you or these horses would land us at the gates of purgatory, my lady.” He shrugged. “If it were I alone, I’m certain there would be no question.”

  “Most assuredly, horses do not belong.”

  His expression turned serious, and his gaze moved to the doll on the ground beside her. “I have the oddest notion we’re no longer aboard ship.”

  Her eyes followed his, but she saw nothing out of the ordinary. The doll seemed no worse for wear.

  Joseph raked fingers through his hair. “I’ll scout about, find out where we are.”

  “You’re leaving me?” A cold knot formed in her stomach. She’d felt…safe…protected, but if he deserted her…

  Joseph pulled her to him once more. His heart beat strong and steady against hers. “I won’t go far.” His voice vibrated in waves over her, his breath stirring her hair. “We need to find out where we are, see what we are up against.” Firm lips pressed against her forehead before he stood back.

  He was right, of course. But, left alone? What if something should happen to him? “We have no coin, just the clothes on our backs. Covered in…in Mr. Thomas’s b-blood.”

  The grimace on his face indicated he’d already considered that, but then a small smile tipped his lips. “Ah, but we do have coin.” He reached for the doll and fingered the necklace she wore. “A couple of these should work.” With deft sure movements he dislodged two. “Twenty minutes,” he promised. “I’ll be back.”

  ****

  Joseph stole through the door. The barn door. He was almost positive there’d been no barn aboard the ship. Something very strange was going on, and it had something to do with that doll. The note Kendra had stuffed in the doll’s pocket indicated something about protecting the owner.