Blackhearts

by Nicole Castroman

  Teach clucked his tongue. “I never claimed it was. Now hand over the purse, and I will release you unharmed. If you don’t, I will take you back to the tavern to explain the cards in your pocket.”

  Henry stared at Teach, peering in the darkness up at his face. “I know you,” he mumbled, his speech slurred.

  “Hand over the coins,” Teach said, undeterred. The chances of Henry remembering this encounter were slim.

  After a moment Henry reached into his pocket and tossed the drawstring bag several feet away.

  Teach slid to the side and bent down, his eyes never leaving his victim. Once he secured the pouch in his hands, he hefted it, testing its weight.

  In that instant Henry lunged forward, diving toward Teach’s feet. Expecting just such a move, Teach sidestepped the tackle, but Henry still managed to hook an arm around one leg. Teach landed on his back, the breath knocked out of him. Momentarily stunned, he lay there until he saw the large rock in Henry’s hand.

  Teach scrambled out of the way and jumped to his feet. With a deft movement he grabbed Henry by the hair and slammed his fist into his face. Henry splayed in the dirt, like a pig on a spit, and didn’t move again.

  “You should have listened to me,” Teach muttered, getting to his feet. He picked up his hat and dusted it off before retrieving the drawstring bag. He took out one coin and flicked it, and it landed near Henry Barrett’s face. With one last disgusted look in Henry’s direction, Teach turned and disappeared into the dark.

  CHAPTER 12

  Anne

  When Anne got up the next morning, the sky was a light gray, the sun hidden just below the horizon. She discovered a note addressed to Margery on the small sideboard in the hallway near the kitchen. She would have read it if it hadn’t been sealed. The handwriting was bold and strong, and Anne wondered when Teach had returned, for there was no question it was from him.

  Was it a reprimand for Margery’s behavior the previous night? A part of Anne hoped it was, even though she knew that would create more problems than it would solve.

  Anne had not heard Teach return last night. Or perhaps it had been in the morning. She couldn’t help wondering where he’d been.

  When Margery saw the note, she ripped it open, clearly uneasy, and scanned the contents. With a sigh of relief she stuffed it into her pocket and turned to the three girls, who stood nearby awaiting their assignments for the day. “It appears the young master has an errand for me in the city. You will continue with your chores until I return.”

  Anne exchanged looks with Sara and Mary, but the three remained silent. Margery turned on her heel and started up the stairs.

  In a matter of minutes the sound of the carriage could be heard as it drove away, taking Margery with it.

  The girls collected their cleaning supplies, and Mary and Sara started whispering. “She forgot to tell us what to do,” Sara said.

  “Aye, she was off in quite a rush.”

  “What do you suppose the note said?”

  “Don’t know. Just be glad to have her out of the house,” Mary muttered, her plump face flushed from the exertion of washing the hall floor.

  Anne shook her head and left the two girls to their duties. She usually polished the furniture in Master Drummond’s room but hadn’t been able to get to it that week because of the time she’d spent tending Teach. She hoped to finish before he awakened.

  The upstairs was silent as Anne began her labor. Starting at one end of the room, she worked as quickly and efficiently as possible. She’d been at it for some time when the sound of footsteps approached, but they were too light to belong to Teach.

  Sara poked her head in the doorway as Anne knelt beside Master Drummond’s armchair.

  “Have ye seen Mary?” Sara asked.

  Anne shook her head. “No, I thought she was with you.”

  “Aye, she was, but she said she left a candle burning in her room and ran to put it out. That was a while ago, and I haven’t seen her since.”

  Anne was not surprised. With Margery gone, Mary would take any opportunity to shirk her responsibilities. “Have you checked in the pantry? Or perhaps the stable?”

  Sara made a face. “Of course. I suppose I’ll have to go and get her away from Tom again.”

  Shaking her head, Anne listened to the footsteps fade down the hallway. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if Master Drummond ever found out about Mary and Tom. Somehow Mary had managed to keep her liaisons a secret even from Margery.

  As Anne bent over to smooth one corner of the rug, her foot connected with the bottom of the bedside table, and something dropped with a solid clank. Turning, she discovered a ­turtle-shell spyglass, inlaid with silver and gold, wedged between the table leg and the wall. It was covered in dust. Picking it up, Anne felt her pulse accelerate at the find. From the looks of it, it was quite old, and the metal was tarnished, but Anne still recognized a valuable item when she saw one.

  It appeared to have been there for quite some time. When she bumped the table, it must have dislodged it. She hesitated, weighing the object in her hands. It obviously meant something to Master Drummond. Otherwise it would not have been beside his bed. He kept only his most valued treasures closest to him, which was why the room was practically barren.

  But the condition of the spyglass showed that the master hadn’t thought about it for quite a while. It could have been hidden there for years without his knowledge.

  For Anne, it could very well be the final piece she needed in order to afford a new life somewhere else. With a quick look behind her, she slid it into the pocket of her dress, her fingers slick with perspiration as she told herself he wouldn’t miss it.

  Wiping her hands on her apron, she stood, prepared to resume her work. Instead she froze when she noticed the large portrait hanging above the fireplace. It was of the lady of the house, Teach’s mother, Mrs. Catherine Drummond. Anne had dusted it countless times before, admiring the burgundy dress and serene face, but she’d never felt those eyes staring back at her, accusing, as they appeared to be now.

  Anne had heard stories from the gardener about Catherine Drummond. He was the only servant left who had known her, and he’d said that Mrs. Drummond had always gone out of her way to help someone in need, showing kindness even when there’d been no benefit for herself.

  If Mrs. Drummond could see Anne now, what would she say? Would she encourage Anne, and give her money to help her escape?

  Fingering the spyglass in her pocket, Anne pulled it out once more.

  Or would Mrs. Drummond—

  “What are you doing?”

  Startled, Anne whirled, automatically hiding her hands behind her back. Mary stood in the doorway, glaring at her.

  “I’m working. Which is what you should be doing,” Anne said, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest.

  Mary’s eyes narrowed. “What are you hiding?”

  Anne cursed the guilty flush that rose in her cheeks. “Nothing.”

  Mary raised an eyebrow at her. “Nothing? I don’t believe you. Show me what you have behind your back.”

  “It’s nothing. I was simply cleaning. You startled me.”

  “I cleaned this room yesterday,” Mary said, looking unconvinced.

  “I didn’t know. No one told me it had been done.” Anne glanced nervously toward the door, unsure how long the girl had been standing there.

  Mary folded her arms over her ample chest. “What would Margery say if she knew you were polishing things when they didn’t need it? There’s enough work to go around without doing everything twice, don’t you think?”

  “What would Master Drummond say if he knew you were dallying with the groom?” Anne shot back, feeling more than a little defensive. “That is where Sara just found you, wasn’t it?”

  Mary’s face flushed a deep red. “No, I was in the
pantry.”

  “Alone? Or was Tom with you?”

  “That’s none of your business, now, is it?”

  “No, but it is Master Drummond’s business.”

  There was fear in Mary’s eyes. “You have no proof.”

  Anne could not bring herself to feel any pity for the girl. “Mr. Edward said he caught you with Tom. I believe that’s proof enough.”

  “Did he tell you that? Well, you better watch yourself,” Mary sneered. “I don’t think Master Drummond would take too kindly to you spending so much time with his son.”

  “Mr. Edward was ill, and both Margery and Master Drummond know it. I was simply doing my job.”

  “What makes you think I wasn’t doing my job?”

  “Because I’ve never heard of a maid working side by side with a groom before. And I’m quite sure Master Drummond hasn’t either,” Anne said.

  With a toss of her head, Mary stomped off, muttering under her breath.

  Exhaling, Anne slipped the spyglass once more into her pocket, her knees shaking. She would have to watch herself where Mary was concerned. The girl was trouble.

  Until now Anne had done her best to choose less obvious objects, of lesser value, and she’d always made sure she was quite alone before she took anything.

  The incident just now had been close.

  Too close.

  But Anne wasn’t willing to give up the spyglass. Not if she wanted to reach her goal.

  Drummond was notorious for his stinginess, and Anne was actually surprised that more people hadn’t stolen from him. Or perhaps others had taken from him, but they’d been too smart to get caught.

  With less than three weeks left to plan her escape on the Deliverance, Anne would have to be extra careful. If anyone was to be caught, it would definitely not be her.

  CHAPTER 13

  Teach

  Teach had just slipped into a fresh shirt and breeches when an incessant pounding sounded at the front door. Closing his eyes, he was tempted to climb back into bed. His tongue was still thick and dry from the ale the previous night, and his efforts to erase Anne’s image from his head had been futile.

  He’d visited two different taverns on his way home, trying to figure out how he could talk his father into letting him command the Deliverance before he married Patience. But the more he drank, the less control he had, and it hadn’t taken long before a pair of blue eyes had occupied his mind completely.

  The pounding continued. Margery had gone into town. He’d sent her away to check several shops in search of his father’s missing silverware. Although Drummond had told Teach not to say anything, Teach seriously doubted the elderly housekeeper was the thief. If anyone was stealing from the household, they would have to get rid of the evidence somehow and the shops were a good place to start.

  What he’d really like to have done was dismiss Margery for hitting Anne. But any serious action would have to wait until his father returned.

  There was no sign of anyone in the hallway, but he heard footsteps approaching in the entryway below. He had just turned the corner at the top of the landing, when he saw the color drain from Anne’s face as she opened the front door.

  In the light of day, it was clear the night had not been kind to Henry Barrett. His thick, pale skin resembled a loaf of bread before it was properly baked.

  “They’ve got you answering the door now, have they?” Henry sneered.

  Blocking his entrance, Anne scowled at him. “Maids are required to do a variety of jobs. I’m certain you remember my status in this house.”

  “You better watch yourself. I could make your life very uncomfortable if you’re not careful.”

  Teach moved silently toward the stairs, his hands clenched at his sides, his vision momentarily clouded by rage at Henry’s threat. It was clear he and Anne knew each other from somewhere. Had Anne worked in Henry’s household before? No wonder she was so sharp-tongued.

  “What do you want?” she asked, not bothering with any pretense of civility.

  “I want to see that dirty bounder, Edward.”

  “He isn’t here. I will let him know you called.”

  Henry shook his head and pushed his way past her into the large hall. He looked up at the rich tapestries and paintings adorning the walls, no doubt trying to determine their worth. “I saw him last night. I’d recognize him anywhere.”

  “And I you,” Teach said with deadly calm, reaching the bottom step.

  Henry and Anne both turned at his approach. Teach’s mood didn’t improve when he saw the slight coloration near Anne’s eye. Margery would definitely answer for that.

  “Should I get you some refreshment, sir?” she asked Teach.

  “No, that won’t be necessary. This won’t take long,” Teach said, barely managing to control his fury.

  Taking her cue, Anne walked in the direction of the kitchen.

  “What do you want?” Teach asked, turning to Henry.

  “What you took.”

  Teach raised his eyebrows. “And what would that be?”

  “My money. I know it was you near the tavern last night. You might have fooled the others, but not me.”

  “Really?” Teach drawled. “What if I told you I’ve been sick these past few days and haven’t been out of the house? What would you say then?”

  “I’d call you a liar! That was you, and I’m here to collect what’s mine.”

  “Be careful what you say, Henry. I’m a fairly good shot, and I won’t have my integrity questioned by someone like you.”

  “And I won’t be robbed by the likes of you. If you don’t return my money, I’ll report you to the constable—”

  “And tell them what? I stole the money you stole from those men? Somehow, I doubt the constable would be very sympathetic.”

  “You have no proof.”

  “Oh, but I do. I returned the coins to their rightful owners. The men you cheated were quite interested to know about your deck of cards. You might want to avoid the docks for a time. I believe some of your friends might be looking for you.”

  While Henry sputtered to find the right words, Teach strode toward the door and pulled it open. If Henry didn’t leave, Teach could not guarantee his safety. “Good-bye, Henry.”

  Henry sniffed, puffing out his chest like a peacock. He crossed the floor with less assured steps, and then paused on the step outside the door. “I want my money. I’ll make you pay—”

  The only response was the slamming of the door and Teach’s colorful expletive. It was a good thing he didn’t have his cutlass with him. He wouldn’t have hesitated in cutting the oaf down.

  Teach strode toward the back of the house to find Anne. For some reason, seeing Henry Barrett had clearly unnerved her, and he meant to get to the bottom of it. He found her leaning against the wall around the corner from the entryway, her eyes closed. She’d listened to the entire conversation.

  “Anne. Are you all right?”

  She took a steadying breath. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine, sir. Just tired, that’s all.”

  “Liar,” he said, searching her expression. “He upset you, didn’t he?”

  “He is rather unpleasant,” she replied, straightening from the wall and heading toward the kitchen.

  Teach walked alongside her. “I’ve known him for several years now. ‘Repulsive’ would be a more apt description.” Tilting his head, he gave her a hard look. “What did he mean when he said he could make your life difficult? Did you work for him before?” The thought turned his stomach.

  “What did he mean he saw you last night? When you left, did you go to the tavern as he claimed?”

  Teach’s lips twitched, and he leaned against the kitchen table. “I thought I heard you following me.” He watched as she sliced into a loaf of fresh bread. Her posture let him know she wished he would leave. “
All right, Anne, don’t answer my question, but we both know the truth. At some point you must have worked in Barrett’s household.”

  “It’s a story I’m not ready to tell,” she said.

  “Did he hurt you?” I’ll kill him.

  “The past no longer matters.”

  “It does if he caused you harm.”

  Anne put the knife down and looked him in the eyes. “I do not wish to discuss Henry Barrett with you.”

  “Well, whether you wish to discuss him or not, this was not the first time you’ve seen him. And unfortunately, knowing him as I do, it might not be the last.” Anne’s face showed her dismay. Teach was quick to reassure her. “Don’t worry. If I give him his money, he won’t have any reason to come back.”

  “I thought you said you’d returned it.”

  “I lied.”

  A slight smile played on Anne’s lips as she resumed cutting the bread, and warmth spread throughout Teach’s limbs, knowing he was responsible for it.

  “You’re impossible,” Anne muttered.

  “I’m a Drummond.”

  “Oh yes, I’m quite aware of that fact.”

  “You do realize this is just one more thing you and I have in common.”

  Anne shot him a curious look. “What is?”

  “Our dislike of Henry Barrett.”

  “I don’t think many people like him.”

  “True,” Teach said. “Which is a shame. His father, Andrew Barrett, was a good man and one of my father’s closest friends. Before my mother died, they did quite a bit of business together. They kept in touch off and on in the years since. When I left England a year ago, it was on one of Barrett’s merchant ships.”

  The knife stopped moving. “You sailed on one of Andrew Barrett’s ships?”

  “Yes, although not many people knew about it.”

  “Why didn’t you sail on one of your father’s ships?”

  Teach looked down at his boots. “Because I didn’t want to be treated differently. If they’d known I was the owner’s son, the experience wouldn’t have been the same. I wanted to make my own path. On Barrett’s ship I went by the name of Edward Teach. I arranged it with him, shortly before he died. Only my good friend John knew who I was.” On board the Deliverance, Teach might continue with that tradition. It was why he was so comfortable here in the back of the house, talking to a member of his kitchen staff as if it were nothing.