Blackhearts

by Nicole Castroman

  Lord Hervey gave a start, a loud snort escaping his mouth as he sat up and looked around, trying to gain his bearings. “Ah. Edward. Glad to see you here.”

  Teach smiled. “Thank you for having me, Lord Hervey.”

  Miss Patience took her father’s arm. “Come along now. Let’s get you upstairs.” She turned once more to Teach and William. “I will see you both in the morning.” Not waiting for a response, she swept out of the room, her mouth a thin line of displeasure.

  Once the door had closed behind her, William whistled softly. “You’re going to have to make it up to her, Teach. You shall have to pay extra attention to her, or I fear she will not forgive you. She requires a finer hand than yours,” he said, as if the two were discussing a horse.

  Teach sighed, unbuttoning his collar. “I know, but I just didn’t have the strength for it tonight.” He gave his friend an appraising glance. “You look well. Have you enjoyed yourself?”

  William grinned. “Who wouldn’t? While you’ve been lying in bed convalescing, I’ve been quite entertained by your lovely fiancée.”

  Teach frowned. “Entertained? How?”

  “In your absence I have decided to begin Miss Patience’s study of Paradise Lost. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Teach wasn’t quite sure how he felt. William was harmless, and always had been when it came to matters of the heart. As far as Teach knew, he’d had no serious relationships with anyone. “On the contrary. I’m delighted to hear you’ve finally taken your studies seriously. Your parents will be happy to know that their money did not go to waste.”

  “If I’d known how enjoyable it could be to describe the difference between good and evil, I would have tried it long ago.”

  William’s words reminded Teach of Anne. He wished she’d agreed to accompany him. “I’m sure Miss Patience appreciates your time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to see my father.”

  William’s eyes widened in surprise. “Are you quite sure you’ve recovered?” He reached forward, as if to gauge Teach’s temperature. “When did you ever willingly seek out your father’s company?”

  Teach smacked his hand away. “I have to ask him a few questions.”

  “About what?” William asked.

  “Nothing that concerns you. Not directly, that is. But I might need your help with something later.”

  William rubbed his hands together, a gleeful look on his face. “Oh, what do you propose we do? Are we going to break into someone’s vault? Or do you prefer something less dramatic, like stealing their sheep? I’ve missed you this past year, Teach. My life has been deadly boring without you.”

  “I highly doubt that. You are quite capable of creating your own entertainment,” Teach said, turning his back on his friend and heading for the door.

  “I’m here when you need me,” William called after him. “Just say the word.”

  “I’ll remember that.” Teach appreciated his friend’s loyalty, even though he didn’t know what their actions would entail. Teach himself was unsure. It all depended on his conversation with his father. If he found out Henry Barrett was indeed responsible for Anne’s position in his father’s household, he would make sure Barrett never stepped foot in his house again.

  Upstairs the hallway was dim as Teach walked in the direction of the guest wing. He knew exactly in which room his father slept, for the man was a creature of habit. In fact, Drummond didn’t like anything over which he had no control. Teach would have to proceed with caution if he wanted to find out as much as he could about Henry Barrett and Anne.

  After knocking on the third door on his left, he waited, looking down the dark-paneled walls stretching away in the gloom. His father’s voice called for him to enter.

  “There you are,” Drummond said from the large armchair positioned near one of the windows. Still dressed in his shirt and breeches, he held a book in his hands. A tall candelabra stood sentinel beside him, giving the room a warm glow. “I heard you arrive.”

  Teach closed the door behind him. “Yes, sir. Miss Patience wished to see me first—”

  “As she should. I was beginning to wonder if we would be planning your funeral instead of your wedding. I was most ­concerned.”

  Teach nearly laughed out loud. If his father had been so concerned, why had he left with the Herveys instead of staying behind to help him? “Never fear. I have fully recovered.” He took a few tentative steps forward, disliking how his father always managed to make him feel like a disobedient schoolboy. “You had a visitor while you were gone.”

  “Oh?”

  Teach nodded. “Yes. Henry Barrett.”

  Drummond’s eyebrows drew together. “What did he want?”

  “He said he had some business with you,” Teach said, unsure if this was the best way to introduce the topic. Should he ask his father outright if he knew Anne was Andrew Barrett’s daughter?

  If Teach did, his father wouldn’t take kindly to having his actions questioned by his son. On the other hand, if Drummond didn’t know, he would be upset to think that someone had deceived him. Either way, Teach had to tread carefully.

  “Did he?” his father asked, his frown deepening.

  “Yes. He made it sound as though the two of you were in the habit of discussing business matters. Does he have anything to do with the Deliverance?”

  Drummond snapped his book shut. “Hardly. I haven’t had or wanted anything to do with him since he showed up five months ago with that girl.”

  Teach’s nerves prickled with awareness. “What girl?” he asked.

  His father stood and walked toward the night table. “One of the kitchen maids.”

  It wasn’t a surprise that his father didn’t know Anne’s name. He never showed any interest in his hired help. Even Margery, who’d worked for him for years, was still a relative stranger.

  “You mean Anne?” Teach asked, his stomach clenching.

  Drummond stretched, rolling his neck from side to side. “Hmm? Yes, yes, I believe that’s her name. Several months after his father’s death, he came and said she had worked in his house, but he had enough kitchen staff and wondered if she couldn’t come and work for me.”

  “Did he give a reason why?”

  His father’s face was thoughtful. “Andrew had had a cook, a woman by the name of Jacqueline. Your mother and I were quite fond of her cooking. When your mother was ill, ­Jacqueline sent soups and salves to help ease her discomfort. Normally I would never hire an islander, but Henry obviously knew I would take in anyone who had learned at the hands of that woman.”

  Teach struggled to keep his expression neutral, shamed and angered by his father’s obvious prejudice. “Did he mention anything else about Anne? Her surname, perhaps?”

  “Good heavens, no. Why would I need to know that? I don’t make it a habit to learn everything about the help. I suggest you don’t either.”

  “How long had it been since you’d last had contact with Andrew Barrett?”

  Drummond was silent, fingering a small frame on the night table with the painted likeness of his wife. He’d had it commissioned when Teach had been a boy, and Drummond never left the house without it. It matched the large portrait hanging over the fireplace in Drummond’s bedchamber back at the estate.

  “A year or two before his death, Andrew sent me a letter asking me to look after Jacqueline and her daughter should anything happen to him. We hadn’t had much contact for some time, but I told him I would.”

  Teach knew Andrew Barrett was one of the few men his father had called a friend. The two had been close, or as close as Drummond would allow.

  “After his death I received a letter informing me I was the executor of an account under Jacqueline’s name. I replied to the solicitor, who said he would send word once he learned more.”

  “But you didn’t hear anything else?”

 
“No. When Henry came to the house with that girl, I asked after Jacqueline. Barrett told me she had decided to return to the West Indies for a time and had taken her daughter with her. I remembered Andrew once telling me the name of the town when Jacqueline had been born, and I sent a letter there, hoping to learn of their fate, but all to no avail. They’re quite primitive, I believe.”

  “So you never heard from Henry Barrett again?” Teach asked.

  “No. Perhaps that’s why he came by.”

  “No, that’s not the reason. He was looking for something.”

  Drummond’s eyebrows drew together. “What was he looking for?”

  “Nothing of significance. So Barrett told you that Anne had worked for him?”

  “Yes, which was why I hired her to help Margery in the kitchen. Since I’d failed to fulfill Andrew’s other wishes, I felt it couldn’t hurt to employ one of his servants. I had just fired my own cook and was on the lookout for a new one.”

  “Did Henry say anything else? Anything about Anne’s background or where she came from?”

  Drummond looked up. “Heavens, no. Nor did I ask. The girl is a servant. All I care about is that she performs her duties satisfactorily. Why the devil are you asking all of these questions?”

  “Because Henry lied to you, Father. Anne isn’t a servant. She happens to be Andrew Barrett’s daughter.”

  His father’s face turned red, and his eyes widened with shock. “Good Lord! That girl is Andrew Barrett’s daughter?” he asked, clearly stunned.

  Teach should have known better. He could accuse his father of many things, but Drummond would never have employed the daughter of one of his closest friends. Especially not when he’d been asked to look out for her.

  “Why didn’t she say anything?” Drummond asked. Teach was fairly certain his father had barely spoken a word to many of his servants, including Anne, and he could not imagine a sixteen-year-old maid asking to speak with the master of the house. It simply wasn’t done.

  “She doesn’t trust easily. When her father died, Henry ­Barrett kicked them out onto the street. I believe they had a hard time of it, and no one came to their aid. Anne didn’t think it would make a difference if you knew her true identity.”

  “They?”

  “Yes, Anne and her mother, Jacqueline.”

  Visibly shaken, Drummond sat on the edge of the bed. “Where is her mother now?” he asked, his voice subdued, as if he already knew the answer.

  “Anne said she passed away. I don’t know how or when, but it must have been before Henry brought Anne to you.”

  Closing his eyes, Drummond leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees. “Oh no. Oh no. I see it now. Good Lord, why didn’t I see it before? She has his eyes. His eyes,” he whispered, almost to himself.

  Teach was surprised at the depth of emotion on his father’s face. “You couldn’t have known. If Barrett didn’t say ­anything—” Teach began, but his father wasn’t listening.

  “I’ve failed him. He asked me to look after her, after them, and I failed him.”

  Teach stepped forward, a surge of sympathy washing over him. “It’s not your fault. You had no idea. Barrett never said she was his daughter—”

  “No, but I should have seen the resemblance. The minute she entered my house, I should have noticed the similarities. The cooking, the attention to detail.” His eyes had a distant look in them. “Anne is just like her mother and is as proud as her father. And I have failed them all.”

  The room was eerily silent. Teach’s mind filled with visions of what he would do to Henry when he found him. Not just on Anne’s behalf but also on his father’s. And his own.

  Drummond stood abruptly and paced the floor. “I must go back. I must return and make this right.”

  Teach nodded in agreement. “Excellent idea. Tomorrow, we shall both—”

  His father’s head whipped around, and he fixed his son with a penetrating glare. “No. Tomorrow I will return. You will stay here.”

  “But I want to go with you,” Teach insisted.

  “No. You need to make things right with Miss Patience. I’ve spent enough time under this roof and must return to Bristol at once. In less than three weeks’ time, the Deliverance will set sail, and there is still much to prepare. You will leave the matter of Anne to me.”

  Teach glowered at his father, wondering how he could have ever felt sorry for him. Teach also wondered how he could ever convince the man to let him captain a ship, if Teach couldn’t even talk his father into letting him return home. “If it hadn’t been for me, you would not be aware of the situation,” he pointed out icily.

  Drummond’s voice was just as cold. “And do you care to explain why you were conversing with the kitchen staff about their status in my household?”

  “I’ve noticed Margery dealing rather harshly with Anne and was curious as to why. I believe you should get rid of Margery.”

  “Could it be you have other reasons for being concerned for Anne’s welfare?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m engaged to be married,” Teach snapped.

  “Good. And don’t you forget that. Drummonds are honor bound to keep their promises.”

  “It is hardly a crime to speak with subordinates, Father. You could learn a lesson from Andrew Barrett in that regard. He took an active interest in his staff.”

  “Yes. I’ve seen how active an interest it was,” Drummond said. “Andrew was a good man, but there is no denying his questionable judgment at times. Nevertheless, I will do as he asked and care for the girl.”

  “But you still need my help watching the servants because of the thefts. If you’re too busy, I can—”

  “I haven’t noticed anything else missing. Perhaps I was mistaken. Anyone would be a fool to steal from me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I wish to retire. I’ll return home first thing in the morning.”

  Teach reached the door in swift, angry strides. “Good night, Father. Have a safe journey back,” he snapped, closing the door solidly behind him.

  CHAPTER 17

  Anne

  Anne clutched the pocket watch in her hand as she entered the drawing room. Master Drummond rarely asked to have a word with one of his staff. When he did, the person was typically dismissed. Anne’s insides flipped uncomfortably as she closed the door behind her. She wasn’t sure if she was still an employee, which made her even more anxious.

  “You wished to see me, sir?” she asked, attempting to keep her voice level, pressing the pocket watch into her palm.

  Master Drummond turned from the window. His sharp green eyes, so similar to Teach’s, studied her. “Yes, I did. Please, won’t you have a seat?”

  Anne’s heart pounded in her chest, but she did as he requested.

  He sat down across from her. “I don’t know exactly where to begin, as I have apparently made quite a mess of things. But I shall attempt to rectify the situation.” Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and looked Anne squarely in the eyes. “I believe I owe you an apology.”

  If Anne hadn’t been sitting, her legs would have given out beneath her at his words.

  Master Drummond continued. “A long time ago your father asked me to look after his cook and her daughter in the event that something happened to him. When you came to this house, I had no idea who you really were. Henry Barrett merely mentioned that you’d been employed in his father’s household. If I’d known you were Andrew’s daughter, I would never have agreed to let you work for me.”

  The pocket watch slipped from Anne’s hand and fell to the floor. Too stunned to move, she watched as Master Drummond picked it up and examined it, turning it over in his palm.

  “I know this watch. I was with your father in London when he bought it,” he said softly. Popping it open, he read the inscription inside, which said For my Jacqueline, before handing it back to her.
r />   “Thank you.”

  Master Drummond sighed. “No. You have nothing to thank me for. At least not yet.”

  Anne remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

  “Looking at you, I can’t believe I didn’t see it earlier. Andrew never told me he had a daughter with Jacqueline, but I should have guessed as much. He was lonely after his wife died.”

  Anne did not like the insinuation that loneliness was the only reason her father had turned to her mother. “They cared for each other.”

  Master Drummond’s gaze did not quite meet hers. It was clear he was uncomfortable speaking about the relationship between Anne’s parents.

  “Your father sent me a letter, asking me to make sure Jacqueline and her daughter were looked after. He said he’d leave the money in a trust and I was to oversee it.”

  Anne’s eyes widened in surprise, for this was the first she’d heard of such arrangements.

  “When Henry brought you here, I asked after Jacqueline and her daughter. He said you’d returned to the West Indies. Clearly, that was not the case,” he said.

  She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t. My mother and I were removed from the house hours after my father passed away.”

  “If only I’d known,” Master Drummond said, sitting back in his chair, the wrinkles in his distinguished face more pronounced than ever, “I would have taken you in. I would have done everything for you that your father had asked of me. You have to believe me when I say that.”

  Anne was shocked that the repentant man before her was the same person who hadn’t said more than ten words to her since she’d entered his household. At the moment she wasn’t sure what to believe.

  “When Henry first brought you here, he asked if I wouldn’t mind giving you a job because he had enough servants. Since I hadn’t been able to fulfill your father’s request concerning Jacqueline, it was the least I could do.”