A Fair Pretender

by Janet Woods

  Pale-faced, she held out her palm, where a sharp piece of triangular metal nestled. Her eyes were troubled when he took it from her. In a trembling voice, she said. ‘Somebody has stabbed my sister. She is badly shaken but should recover without ill effect after a few days rest. Luckily, the knife tip broke off before it could penetrate deeper, otherwise the placement of the wound would have penetrated her vitals.’

  ‘Who would do such a thing?’

  ‘Evelyn has lost her purse and brooch, so I can only think that she was accidentally stabbed when the felon stole her pocket. She said the man had pale grey eyes––but she’s puzzled, for he appeared to be too well dressed to be a felon.’

  ‘Dips come in all shapes and sizes. From now on you will not venture abroad without a manservant in attendance.’

  ‘I’m sure there is no need––’

  ‘Allow me to be the judge of that.’

  She dipped him a curtsy, her face a tumult of rebellion. ‘As you will, My Lord.’

  His eyes softened. ‘You must not take offence, my Eve. There’s good reason for me wanting you both guarded.’

  ‘What good reason is that?’

  After a momentary hesitation, he said. ‘I believe the attack could have been deliberate.’

  The remaining color fled from Graine’s cheeks. ‘You mean, someone wanted to kill her. But why? Evelyn is well liked and has no enemies.’ She searched her mind for the reason, but could find none, except … She stared at him, horror dawning in her eyes. ‘There’s only one person who would benefit from her death, isn’t there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So, you think I’m capable of arranging such a despicable act.’

  He chuckled. ‘You are certainly capable, as you have displayed by your earlier conduct. The question is, would you?’

  Crushed, she gazed at him, her stomach churning, the horror she felt clearly displayed in her eyes. ‘I see nothing to laugh about. If it would help confirm what you suspect I’m capable of, I would gladly squeeze the very life from you at this moment. Go from my sight,’ she whispered, ‘I cannot bear the suspicion with which you regard me. Send for a doctor to tend Evelyn. I will not go near her until she recovers, lest she be infected by some unworthy thought I may have.’

  ‘Graine,’ He extended a hand towards her. ‘I did not mean––’

  ‘Good-bye, My Lord, you have wounded me beyond redemption, this time.’ And in case he didn’t understand how much she despised him at that moment, she struck him in the chest with her fist, then turned and fled upstairs to her chamber.

  Locking the door, she threw herself on the bed and, ignoring Jessie’s entreaties to be allowed in, sobbed herself to sleep.

  * * * *

  Cursing his stupidity, Saville dropped the knife tip into his pocket and helped himself to a stiff brandy. Hearing a rustle of paper, he drew out the letter Graine had written to him, always kept close to his heart.

  My dearest love … one who loves you truly for all eternity … nothing can ever dislodge you from my heart.

  He groaned. No wonder he’d thought she’d sounded young. She was young––and sensitive to her past. As a result of her parents’ folly, she’d suffered. He could not tell her the reason for the precautions, that William Younger’s ship had recently docked, and the message he’d received from the blackbirder before they’d left Rushford had boded her no good at all. Younger had judged her guilty by association because the dog had sought to guard her.

  And he had not been near them by chance today. He’d been following Graine, to ensure her safety. Only, his eyes had been on her dainty figure, not on Evelyn, who’d been targeted instead. Though for what reason, he hadn’t yet figured out, for William Younger could have no grudge against her.

  ‘Who, but Graine, would benefit if Evelyn died?’ he wondered. Then his way of thinking shifted horrifyingly sideways, for she still had blood ties through her mother’s family residing in Antigua. Francis Seaton! Did his need for revenge extend to the innocent child of that ill-fated liaison between Seth and Blanche.

  Poor Graine. How he’d wronged her. Since Charlotte had forcibly fed him her home truths, he knew that Graine could imagine no future for herself with the stigma of her parentage attached to her. No wonder she’d tried to conceal it from him. He’d have done the same under the circumstances, for when all was said and done, his own father was little more than a common felon who’d brought disgrace upon the estate and title. He understood now, and although he still wished she’d confided in him, he was totally ashamed of his treatment of her.

  * * * *

  Graine was already up and quite composed when Jessie came to rouse her later in the afternoon.

  ‘There’s a gentleman waiting to see you in the drawing room.’

  ‘If it’s the earl, tell him I do not wish to see him.’

  ‘Is isn’t the earl, but his lordship did leave a message. He said to tell you he has some urgent business to attend to. He begs you not to abandon Miss Evelyn, and to attend him in the drawing room this very evening. He has something of the utmost importance he wishes to convey to you.’

  With an ear-to-ear grin on her face, Jessie handed her a red rose. ‘This here is his token. He picked it especially from the garden himself. Now, don’t that be romantic?’

  ‘The earl begs for nothing,’ she said, and hurled the rose out of the open window. ‘He knows I have nowhere else to take refuge, and turns it to his own advantage.’

  ‘He sounded right sorry for himself. Jessie, says he, whisper my words gently against Miss Seaton’s ear.’

  Graine recovered a little of her former self. ‘If the earl is genuinely sorry–– and if he isn’t too proud––then I’ll allow him to whisper his sweet nothings into my ear, himself. Make sure he hears of it when he arrives. And you’d better send someone to retrieve the rose. It would be a pity to allow it to wilt.’

  Jessie picked up a brush. ‘I’ll retrieve it myself, Miss. Now, let Jessie do your hair before you see the gentleman visitor. Perkins has showed me how to arrange a pretty hairstyle for you.’

  Graine began to relax under the gentle touch of the slow brushstrokes against her scalp. ‘Who is this gentleman? Not Gerald Phelps, I hope.’

  ‘His name is Francis Seaton. He said he is your uncle.’

  Graine’s eyes shot open. Sitting bolt upright, she squeaked. ‘My uncle?’

  ‘That’s what he said. All the way from the West Indies, he came. He said you’d be surprised.’

  Her eyes narrowed. That was an understatement if ever she’d heard one. Evelyn had told her that Francis Seaton had disowned her. It was rumored that he’d murdered their father. So why was he here? A chill ran through her. Perhaps he’s come to kill her too. She quickly squashed the chilling thought. He wouldn’t give his name and kill her in broad daylight. Perhaps he’d had a change of heart, and was curious to what had become of her.

  Her curiosity overcame her reluctance. He was her family, her mother’s brother. She must see him. And she must make a favorable impression, if possible. Remembering Saville was calling on her later, and liked her in blue, she said casually to Jessie. ‘I’ll change into my blue taffeta gown with the laced bodice, and I’ll wear my pearls, since they were a gift from the earl.’

  She didn’t see the broad smile Jessie gave as the woman turned away.

  Francis Seaton stood when she entered the drawing room. His eyes swept over her and his voice was choked with emotion when he said, ‘How like Blanche you are, my dear.’

  ‘People who knew him say I resemble my father.’

  Francis Seaton pulled in a deep breath, but chose not to acknowledge the mention of her father’s name. ‘Blanch was about your age when she died.’ He pulled a painted miniature from his pocket, dangling it on a chain from his finger. It twisted this way and that. This is in her likeness. I thought you’d like it.’

  Overcome by curiosity she stepped forward, her hand outstretched. The silver locket dropped into her
palm. Painted on it was the face of a young woman. She was beautiful, but she had a spoiled and wilful look. Her hair was dark, her mouth was drawn into a fashionable pout.

  The likeness disappointed Graine. Her mother was nothing like she’d imagined. ‘Thank you, but you are mistaken. We do not look much alike.’

  ‘My dearest neice. I’m glad you are not alike, for it pains me to remember her. I have been looking for you a long time. At last I have found you.’

  ‘You did not look very far, for I was left in the orphanage on Antigua and lived there for sixteen years.’

  Her uncle frowned. ‘I thought you’d died as a baby. I have business interests elsewhere, and spend very little time on the plantation in Antigua. However, I am not here to discuss your childhood. I have heard that your sister has died from injuries received in a street riot. As your nearest male relative, I’m here to assume guardianship of you. Will you not greet me, my own beautiful Graine?’

  Smiling, he took her into an embrace. The cloying perfume of him made her want to sneeze. The kiss he gave her was too long and too close to her mouth for comfort. She turned her head away in disgust, her skin crawling. Inside her head, she heard the song of the myla woman, warning her to beware.

  ‘I need no guardian, sir.’ She was about to mention her sister was still alive and well, when she saw his eyes, pale grey and predatory. Evelyn had described her attacker as having such eyes. She began to tremble. ‘I’m a guest in the house of the Earl of Sedgley. As he advises me on all business affairs to do with my estate, you will kindly wait whilst he’s sent for. I’ll order some refreshment for you.’

  Her trembling must have alerted him, for her attempt to get to the bell pull was thwarted when he pinioned her wrists in his hands. The miniature flew from her hand and slid across the floor. A knife was held at her back. ‘Unless you want to suffer the same fate as your sister, you will do as you’re told and proceed without struggle to the carriage waiting outside. I will negotiate with this earl of yours, without your presence.’

  She had no recourse but to obey. Jessie bobbed her a curtsy as they passed on the stairs. Graine sent her a glance of entreaty and she frowned. ‘Is everything all right, Miss Seaton?’

  ‘Get about your business, woman,’ Francis snapped, a well-aimed foot sending the maid scurrying.

  Terrified that Jessie would be hurt, Graine said sharply, ‘Do as he says, Jessie. I’m just seeing my guest out.’

  Jessie’s eyes sharpened when she saw her mistress hustled out of the door. It closed noisily behind he pair. The next moment she heard the carriage horse clop off down the street. ‘Where be all the fancy footmen when you need one,’ she grumbled, heading for the back stairs.

  Running into Mollie with an armful of linen, she told her what had happened, then was out of the door and running as fast as her legs could carry her towards Miss Charlotte’s house.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was not a great distance to travel, but they’d been conveyed to the docks at a fast pace. Wrapped in a voluminous cloak, a cowl drooping over her face, Graine could only see rough cobble. There was a stretch of grey, stinking mud with a sodden, striped cat curled up on it, dead, but it looked as if it slept comfortably on a cushion of mud. Seagulls screeched overhead and rough voices rang out. Her uncle’s grip tightened on her arm as her body tensed to run. Then came a narrow gangplank and a wooden deck under her feet. She was propelled down a narrow ladder, then down another and another, until finally she found herself in a small, airless space.

  Francis Seaton had not said a word to her, which made him all the more terrifying. For a moment he held up the lantern he carried. His eyes glittered in the flickering candlelight as he backed through the door, leaving her in darkness. There came the click of a lock.

  She threw herself at it, pummeling at the rough surface with her fists. ‘Let me out you blood-sucking bat. Why are you doing this? My mother will curse you from heaven.’

  A chilling laugh came from the other side of the panel. ‘Your mother wouldn’t spare you a passing thought, and far from being in heaven, she’s probably supping with the devil himself right at this very moment. The poor fool, Adams, thought he was in love with her––until he caught her trying to smother you with a pillow.’

  Graine gasped.

  ‘It was your father who put you in the orphanage, not me. I would have finished the job Blanche had started.’

  ‘Did you kill Seth Adams?’

  There was a moment of stretched-out silence, then he said. ‘He ruined Blanche. He gave her opium and it drove her insane, set her of a life of licentiousness. She didn’t know me in the end.’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘She offered me, her own brother, the use of her body for money. I was forced to put her out of her misery.’

  Tears came to Graine’s eyes. ‘Why did you attack … kill my sister?’

  ‘Now she’s out of the way you’ll inherit the Adams’ fortune. I intend to have control of it until you come of age.’

  Graine bit down on her lip. This man had the madness in him. She must be careful not to inflame him, or reveal that Evelyn was still alive. At least, he didn’t intend to kill her. But an insane man said one thing and often did another. He would only keep her alive until he had control of her fortune.

  She lowered her voice. ‘What is it you intend to do with me, uncle?’

  ‘Look after you most carefully, until I obtain control of your fortune. You will write a letter, which will be witnessed by an attorney-at-law.’

  ‘And if I refuse to write it?’

  ‘I will whip you within an inch of your life,’ he hissed. ‘It’s something I’m very good at, as any of my slaves will testify. I once flayed the skin from a slave inch by inch. It took me five days, and I enjoyed every moment.’

  She sucked in a deep breath as the horror of such an act hit her. This ship was used for the transportation of slaves. Behind them, they had left the smell of their fear and sickness. With each movement of the ship she could hear the clank of chains. Suddenly, it pressed in on her, suffocatingly real. There came the cries of those in torment, and the voices singing of a homeland left behind them. She heard the crack of the whips of the slave masters as they drove them forward, and cried of anguish as they were penned up in this stifling darkness, like animals.

  Nausea rose to her throat and she gagged. Clearly, she heard a voice incessant above the din. It was the myla woman. The song entered her heart and her mind, filled her with hope. Finally, her voice rose in unison with it.

  She was brought back to reason when someone grasped her hair and dragged her forth. A hand whipped back and forth across her face as Francis screamed, ‘Shut that cursed din, you heathen bitch.’

  In the darkness, she felt Sheba’s presence. Graine smiled, despite the blood trickling from her mouth, knowing that she was protected. But she had to get out of this rat hole if she was to survive.

  ‘I’ll write the letter,’ she said, for it didn’t really matter. It wouldn’t be worth the scrap of paper it was written on. Evelyn was alive and there was no fortune to inherit. Saville would know the note was a fake. And even though he might despise her now, he would forgive her enough to rescue her.

  When all was resolved, she would return to Antigua and join the order. She would work on behalf of the poor and the dispossessed. That would relieve her of the sins of her parents, and perhaps secure her a place in heaven.

  She jumped when a pistol was shoved into her back. ‘My dear uncle Francis,’ she pleaded, her holy thoughts fleeing in the face of this threat, for she didn’t want her place in heaven secured quite so soon. ‘Must you be so extreme? I’m only a girl. What harm can I possibly do to you?’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it past you to try and escape.’

  She summoned up some sarcasm. ‘You must be a crack shot from this distance?’

  ‘From any distance,’ he boasted, and taking aim, discharged the weapon at a shadow lurking in a corner. A rat exploded into bloody shreds.
It didn’t even have time to squeak.’

  Impulsively snatching at the opportunity, she dashed the lantern from his hand. He cursed when the candle fell out of the holder and rolled across the floor. It disappeared through a crack in the timber before he could reach it.

  She headed for the ladder with Francis in pursuit. A faint, grey light above gave her hope. At the next deck Francis tripped up, giving her the opportunity to gain ground. The light grew stronger, the air cleaner. Just one deck to go. She scrambled upwards, and had just crawled through the hatch into the open air when a pair of boots came into her vision.

  Gazing upwards she saw William Younger staring down at her. ‘Help me!’ she gasped out.’

  ‘Certainly, my dear.’ He smiled and drew back his foot. It connected with her stomach and she sailed backwards through the hatch. For a moment she was flying though the air, then she crashed down on to something unforgivably hard.

  Her breath left her body in one deflating swoop, and the square of light above dimmed into a sudden and painful darkness.

  * * * *

  Dislodged from the lantern Francis Seaton had dropped, the candle had rolled a little way into the space between the double hull. The space, sometimes used for cargoes such as coal or slate, was empty now, except for an accumulation of dust, and nests made by enterprising rats, who had dragged torn pieces of sacking and papers into this place of relative safety.

  The candle was still alight. As the tide ebbed the ship canted slightly. The candle rolled and its flame touched against a ball of fluff mixed with coal dust.

  There was a series of tiny, sparking explosions as the gas trapped in the dust ignited. The ball of fluff began to burn, the blue flaming tongues licked delicately at the caulking between the wooden planks. The threads of oakum began to untwist. The tar holding them together began to soften and melt.