Coward, he shook his head. "I will not. The paper-pusher's not for suicide."
Precious pivoted and saw Lord Welling's lantern go dark, and her heart nearly exploded. Suddenly, she was running to him. Just like she was a rabbit in Charleston, she bounced down the gangplank with no care for losing her balance or falling into the treacherous ocean below. She had to get to him. She had to warn him of what she sensed awaiting in the trees.
He couldn't die. He was too good a man for that.
A spear flew past her side, but she ducked and tripped flat on her stomach, the air leached out of her.
Guns belched. The air filled with the perfume of killing powder.
Lifting her head, she could see a man on horse bearing down on the baron. He was in a leathered robe. Nothing the English wore. And he was as black as ebony. His thick forearm glistened in the moonbeams. What manner of enemy was this?
Why didn't the baron move? What distracted him from the danger closing in?
She leapt to her feet and ran at full force. She saw a spear launch, and jumped, arms flailing as she pushed through the air toward the baron's neck.
Wham! She hit him hard, sending him backward, but he'd grabbed her, taking her with him. As they hit beach, sand flew everywhere. The wind of the spear sailed over her and lodged in the plank with a thud. He or she would have been sliced through if either stayed on the gangplank.
Lord Welling drew her fully into his arms, tucking her deep within his jacket. The scent of gunpowder and his musk swallowed her as he rolled with her until they were partially hidden underneath the plank.
Gunshots sounded, a bullet hitting close to their spot.
He drew her tighter in his arms. His low accent licked her ear. "What do you think you’re doing? You could've been killed!"
She held him tighter, counting the hitching of his gasps. "Savin' your life. You're welcome."
"Thank you. Now we'll both be killed." He tugged her underneath him, as if to shelter her from their enemy, but his weight made it difficult to breathe.
Feet pounded overhead. More guns roared.
Fury overtook her. She kicked with her legs, beat on his chest. "I wouldn't have had to if you'd have moved. Why didn't you? I told you I saw people in the hills."
"I couldn't move. The spear hit my lieutenant. I had to tell him of his wife and the child soon to come. Narvel had to know before he died."
Precious stilled as his words crept past her anger and struck her heart. "No, not Clara's husband, not Mr. Narvel." Her poor friend. Precious's throat clogged, a sob filling the spaces between words. "I have to tell her."
He rolled to his side, but his heavy body blocked the way they'd come, and water was on the other side of the plank. She was trapped with Lord Welling under the gangplank until some side won. "I have to help her."
He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Not until my men sound an all clear. Then we can tend to our friends."
Port Elizabeth was to be a place of joy. With her palm, she beat the sandy floor beneath her. "Where have you brought me and Jonas?" She hit it again but he captured her hand and pulled her to him. The weight of his embrace pressing her against his chest stilled her motion.
She felt helpless and weak underneath him and the burden of her grief for her friend. "Why?"
Pistols popped, flintlocks moaned, and shouts drowned out everything but the rapid beating of his heart. The light of the moon slipping through the haze of bullets and smoke showed the anguish in his eyes. "It wasn't like this before I left. I'd never..." He lifted her chin, his strong gaze searing her flesh. "I'm greedy. I wanted you and the boy here with me. I needed you here."
She shouldn't have let him kiss her, but she didn't have the desire not to taste his strength. How could she not give into the feel of his rough hands caressing her face, his finger tips stroking her neck, drawing her closer, wrapping her in his power?
A horn blew. He stopped the siege of lips, her very willpower. With strong arms, he nudged her behind him. "Please, stay here until I know all is well." He stroked her chin. "And, Precious, you're not a mouse. No, you're full lion."
He scooted out of their hiding position and disappeared in the gloom.
She'd stay put, not because he asked, because she had to get all of her tears out of her, so she could tell her friend the worst. And that this crime was done by someone who Clara had come to be a missionary for, someone who very well could be a cousin to Precious. How was that news to be shared?
Extras
Sneak Peak The Bargain III
Episode III of The Bargain
Length: 8 Chapters (25,000 words)
Summary: Precious Jewell: A Leader’s Secret Weapon
Status: Coming August 2015.
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Author's Note
Dear Friend,
I enjoyed writing The Bargain because I dream of Port Elizabeth, a burgeoning colony where all men and women had the opportunity to make their claim and determine their own fates. These stories will showcase a world of intrigue and romance, somewhere everyone can hopefully find a character to identify with as the colonists and Xhosa battle for their ideas and the love which renews and gives life.
Stay in touch. Sign up at www.vanessariley.com for my newsletter. You’ll be the first to know about upcoming releases, and maybe even win a sneak peek.
Thank so much for giving this book a read.
Vanessa Riley
Here are my notes:
Slavery in England
The emancipation of slaves in England preceded America by thirty years and freedom was won by legal court cases not bullets.
Somerset v Stewart (1772) is a famous case which established the precedence for the rights of slaves in England. The English Court of King's Bench, led by Lord Mansfield, decided that slavery was unsupported by the common law of England and Wales. His ruling:
“The state of slavery is of such a nature that it is incapable of being introduced on any reasons, moral or political, but only by positive law, which preserves its force long after the reasons, occasions, and time itself from whence it was created, is erased from memory. It is so odious, that nothing can be suffered to support it, but positive law. Whatever inconveniences, therefore, may follow from the decision, I cannot say this case is allowed or approved by the law of England; and therefore the black must be discharged.”
E. Neville William, The Eighteenth-Century Constitution: 1688-1815, pp: 387-388.
The Slavery Abolition Act 1833 was an act of Parliament which abolished slavery throughout the British Empire. A fund of $20 Million Pound Sterling was set up to compensate slave owners. Many of the highest society families were compensated for losing their slaves.
This act did exempt the territories in the possession of the East India Company, the Island of Ceylon, and the Island of Saint Helena. In 1843, the exceptions were eliminated.
Wowski
Wowski was a mocking name given to a young black or mulatto girl that Prince William, brother to Prince George (the future Regent of England) brought back with him in 1788 while on Naval tour with Admiral Nelson. She was kept out of sight of British society. A Gilroy cartoon, depicting the couple embracing lovingly in a hammock, ran in the society newspaper The World. The name Wowski is derived from the name of a black servant in the play Inkle and Yarico, in which Inkle falls in love with an Indian maiden who saves his life but then sells her into slavery for profit.
Glossary
The Regency – The Regency is a period of history from 1811-1825 (sometimes expanded to 1795-1837) in England. It takes its name from the Prince Regent who ruled in his father's stead when the king suffered mental illness. The Regency is known for manners, architecture, and elegance. Jane Austen wrote her famous novel, Pride and Prejudice (1813), about characters living during the Regency.
England is a country in Europe. London is the capital city of England.
Image of England fr
om a copper engraved map created by William Darton in 1810.
Port Elizabeth was a town founded in 1820 at the tip of South Africa. The British settlement was an attempt to strengthen England's hold on the Cape Colony and to be buffer from the Xhosa.
Xhosa - A proud warrior people driven to defend their land and cattle-herding way of life from settlers expanding the boundaries of the Cape Colony.
Image of South Africa from a copper engraved map created by John Dower in 1835.
Abigail – A lady's maid.
Soiree – An evening party.
Bacon-brained – A term meaning foolish or stupid.
Black – A description of a black person or an African.
Black Harriot – A famous prostitute stolen from Africa, then brought to England by a Jamaican planter who died, leaving her without means. She turned to harlotry to earn a living. Many members of the House of Lords became her clients. She is described as tall, genteel, and alluring, with a degree of politeness.
Blackamoor – A dark-skinned person.
Bombazine – Fabric of twilled or corded cloth made of silk and wool or cotton and wool. Usually the material was dyed black and used to create mourning clothes.
Breeched – The custom of a young boy no longer wearing pinafores and now donning breeches. This occurs about age six.
Breeches – Short, close-fitting pants for men, which fastened just below the knees and were worn with stockings.
Caning – A beating typically on the buttocks for naughty behavior.
Compromise – To compromise a reputation is to ruin or cast aspersions on someone's character by catching them with the wrong people, being alone with someone who wasn't a relative at night, or being caught doing something wrong. During the Regency, gentlemen were often forced to marry women they had compromised.
Dray – Wagon.
Footpads – Thieves or muggers in the streets of London.
Greatcoat – A big outdoor overcoat for men.
Mews – A row of stables in London for keeping horses.
Pelisse - An outdoor coat for women that is worn over a dress.
Quizzing Glass – An optical device, similar to a monocle, typically worn on a chain. The wearer might use the quizzing glass to look down upon people.
Reticule – A cloth purse made like a bag that had a drawstring closure.
Season – One of the largest social periods for high society in London. During this time, a lady attended a variety of balls and soirees to meet potential mates.
Sideboard – A low piece of furniture the height of a writing desk which housed spirits.
Ton – Pronounced tone, the ton was a high class in society during the Regency era.
Ton – Pronounced tone, the ton was a high class in society during the Regency era.
Sneak Peak: Unmasked Heart
Shy, nearsighted caregiver, Gaia Telfair always wondered why her father treated her a little differently than her siblings, but she never guessed she couldn't claim his love because of a family secret, her illicit birth. With everything she knows to be true evaporating before her spectacles, can the mulatto passing for white survive being exposed and shunned by the powerful duke who has taken an interest in her?
Ex-warrior, William St. Landon, the Duke of Cheshire, will do anything to protect his mute daughter from his late wife's scandals. With a blackmailer at large, hiding in a small village near the cliffs of Devonshire seems the best option, particularly since he can gain help from the talented Miss Telfair, who has the ability to help children learn to speak. If only he could do a better job at shielding his heart from the young lady, whose honest hazel eyes see through his jests as her tender lips challenge his desire to remain a single man.
Unmasked Heart is the first Challenge of the Soul Regency novel.
Mud seeped into Gaia Telfair's slippers as she slogged to the old church. Out of breath, she clutched the rough-hewn rail of the cemetery's fence. A heavy shake of her foot didn't keep the wetness from leaching through the kid leather or the peeling satin lining. If there had been more time, she'd have grabbed her sister's sturdy boots or begged for the cook's stilt-like pattens.
Yet there wasn't time. Her heart beat hard as she tried to imagine her brother's sweet smile. Two miles of fruitless searching between here and home had worn her to a thread. How could he vanish?
Something must've upset him and made him run. Unlike her younger sisters, the incorrigible twins, Timothy wouldn't grieve her like this.
A heavy sigh fell from her lips. If Gaia hadn't been glorying over Elliot's broken engagement, she'd have paid more attention to the six-year-old.
Balling her fist, she rapped the top of the fence, stinging her knuckles. This wasn't Elliot Whimple's fault. It was hers. If Elliot knew of this trouble, the gallant scholar would lead a search party. Such a dear man.
She cleaned her fogged spectacles against the edge of her short spencer, her best jacket, and then shoved the lenses onto the bridge of her nose. Straining, she scanned the graveyard. Everywhere were puddles and soggy earth, thick like cold porridge. Anyone lost in these woods would be soaked to the bone. Poor Timothy.
She swiped at her eyes and leaned her full weight against the crossed timbers. The tang of rainwater perfumed the air. Lil' Timothy loved spring showers.
Something small and dark fluttered the bushes edging the corner. Was it her imagination, or did a blur knock against the lone elm? Timothy?
Fingering the oak rail for a splinter-free patch, she swung her legs over the fence. Lord, let him be well.
Pulse pounding, she cupped a hand to her mouth. "Timothy!"
Her voice echoed then disappeared in the breeze. No response, no crowds or foolish talk or repetition of the silly teases from her friends. The tweaks of how the afternoon sun would further darken her skin stung something deep in her chest. The sunshine could do no more damage to her olive-like complexion; well, no more than the blood in her veins or the luck of her birth. Her father called it a pagan inheritance. Why did she have to be the one to show their Spanish heritage and none of her sisters?
Gaia uncurled her tight fingers. She'd accepted she'd never be as pretty as any of the other fair Telfair girls, but it didn't lessen the pain arising from unthinking words, even those made in jests. With a breath, she swallowed the ache and moved forward.
Toes clenching, she trudged past her older brother's marker. The memory of mopping his brow as he succumbed to his war injuries piled more sadness upon her heart. The pressure increased as she stared at his stone and the one shared one of the stillborn twins of her late mother. Shivering, she glanced away to the flattened grass path. How could she tell Father his last son was missing? Would the man's poor health sustain the news?
Slipping to the elm, Gaia hung her head. No Timothy; just a fleeing rabbit and the lone marker for the old vicar. High blades of grass nearly covered the etched limestone. Set apart from the other graves, the caretaker must've missed this it.
The afternoon sun filtered through the high stained-glass window of the chapel, casting a scarlet glow upon her snug sleeves and thinning knit gloves. If only the light could wrap about her and somehow spin time in reverse. Then, she would pay more attention to her dear brother, not her dearest friend's gossip and wild encouragement of chasing Elliot Whimple's love.
Gaia whipped her head to the road and spied the approach of her running confidant, Serendip Hallow.
The lovely girl, inside and out, waved. "Have you found Timothy?"
"Not yet." The words caught in her throat, almost bringing forth a sob. She edged in Seren's direction. "Crowds scare him. He's so easily disoriented."
"I've put a footman and a groom out to search; and to do so quietly. My brother's going to look on the moors. He'll do anything for pin money," Seren shook her head and tilted her bisque bonnet. A raven pin curl fell and skirted her vibrant green eyes. "Timothy might have wandered there, like before when Elliot found him."
A stamp of Gaia's foot produced
a splash of mud, further saturating her skirt and damp petticoat. Her shoulders sagged as she seized the rail. "No, more talk of that man. If I hadn't been so engaged with my own foolishness, I'd have kept Timothy. Our father will be so disappointed in me."
"He's always so stern with you."
True. Father was hard to please. If she were prettier, more like her beautiful elder sister, he might be easier. Stomach twisting, Gaia nodded. "But this lecture will be so deserved."
"It's not. You have too many responsibilities. You deserve happiness." A bright smile spread across Seren's small oval face as she waggled her trademark charm, a four-leaf clover. "Listen to me; your brother will be found. Fortune is headed your way."
The Bargain: A Port Elizabeth Regency Tale: Episode 2 Page 9