by Robyn Carr
“They all bear women’s names,” Charles pointed out with a smile. “Fitting. Never is there anything so skilled in fighting, so pleasurable to ride, nor so eager for wealth as a woman.”
The men chuckled in agreement, while silently each thought no man knew women so well as Charles. He took them very seriously and then not seriously at all. Charles loved them, pursued them, pampered and ignored them, gave them expensive gifts, listened to their complaints, and bought them off. He could not live without beautiful women, but he never allowed them to become so important that they might interfere with the business of running a country.
“How many more ships are being rebuilt?” Charles asked Seavers.
“Six more, Sire, and the Patrina. She’s ready enough to sail, but I claim that as my ship and she won’t go without me.
“And which of these are to be a part of the royal navy?” James asked.
“All, in event of war.”
“The event of war, my lord, is upon us daily,” James retorted.
Charles clamped a hand on James’s shoulder and laughed. “I own fifty percent of the booty on these vessels, James. Let’s not tie them up permanently. Seavers sails in occupied waters. He’ll take a few Dutchmen—and bring us valuables as well.”
“There will be ships anchored off the coast and ready to sail at the first call, my lord,” Seavers told James, prepared to answer to his own commitments. “You need never fear that I am first a merchant and privateer; I pledged my fleet to His Majesty a long while ago, and so it is first for England.”
Charles cleared his throat. “Just the same, my lord, let them never be idle creatures. I wish to see them busy, riding the sea and doing their work.”
And Seavers nodded then to his king, straddling the fence perfectly, serving James, the naval commander, and the king, whose need was definitely for money and victory.
Charles had been in England now five years and his financial situation was not good. He called himself the poorest king in all Christendom and was no doubt accurate. His flamboyant way of life and the many encounters with the Dutch and Spanish that he had to endure had been costly. He needed several constant sources of revenue and he was pleased with the sum Seavers would supply when he was actively sailing.
“I have not seen Lady Seavers, my lord,” Charles began, walking away from the dock and expecting the others to follow, as they did. “Is she well?”
“Quite well, Your Majesty.”
“You don’t bring her around, which I suppose is wise, considering the attention she would get.”
“On the contrary, Sire, I don’t keep her away from the court. My obligation is first to these ships, and my lady is content to be at home. She was not bred for the court and I fear she worries with her appearance.”
“She needn’t. She’s beautiful and well-mannered. I think you are a lucky man.”
“Aye, Sire.”
“And I am a lucky man, I realize that.”
Geoffrey stopped and looked at the king in confusion. “Lady Charlotte is an investment, Seavers. Certainly you realize that.”
“Certainly,” he said, though he hadn’t.
“Well, good work, my lord,” the king said, reaching his coach. “And good luck.”
“Thank you, Sire.”
Charles looked around before entering his coach. He loved the business of sailing and shipping, but at the moment, with talk of plague and no one quite certain how rampant the disease was, he did not tarry about the wharves. Sailors were known to carry the disease from port to port. “Guard your health,” he said, ducking in and allowing York and Buckingham to get in behind him.
Seavers stood, looking out over the water and catching a final glimpse of his lovely ladies, their sails full as his heart. New York, he thought, Africa, the West Indies, Virginia...He loved the thought of what his men and his vessels would procure for him.
He had fought in New Amsterdam, now New York. He had fought off the coast of Africa. He had not lost his taste for fighting, and he’d captained ships before, but they had not been his. And now he employed captains who sailed for him, rode his ships. His legs ached to be on the deck of the Patrina, his flagship, with several others keeping pace, but for what he wanted for his future, this place was better for now; watching them go off to trade and fight.
And later, when there was sufficient money, he would take advantage of the land offered him by the king and build in the Americas. He could import indentured servants from England and Africa and begin a farming and trading industry. He would perhaps be a neighbor to Preston and they would rekindle their friendship and sail and trade together.
The Letty was not in port, but anchored not far from sight. Preston’s brothers did not return to London often, but ships belonging to the Tildens put into port regularly. England was not home now, but it was their port and first allegiance. Yet their family did not have to live, eat, and breathe courtly politics and schemes. He would be glad to remove himself from the English court and seek out adventure in a new land. Indeed, a new life, once he could bring luxuries so hard-earned to a new place.
Before he could stop the fantasies of his future, his own coach entered the shipping area and Rodney climbed down from his seat next to the driver to hand Geoffrey a sealed message. It was Perry’s seal and Seavers frowned as he ripped the parchment to see the scrawl.
A meeting, Lord Seavers, might serve to establish the credibility of your marriage to Charlotte Bellamy.
A flourishing P ended the note. Geoffrey’s eyes blazed. “How did you come by this?” he asked Rodney.
“Delivered by a page, my lord, from Lord Perry. I thought you should see it at once.”
“Do you know what this is about?”
“Aye, sir. Lord Perry visited Lady Seavers not long ago and threatened to expose her as an impostor. He instructed her to ask you to put a ship in his name—for now.”
“A ship?” he blustered. “For now?”
“Aye, sir.”
“And Lady Seavers thought it unimportant enough to keep silent on the matter?”
“Indeed, sir. And I agreed. She informed me of his visit immediately and I have hired a man to watch his moves.”
“I should have been told at once. What evidence does he have to hold against me?”
“None, as I can see. I think it fair to say that Lady Charlotte handled him beautifully. She encouraged him to take his tale to the king and showed not an ounce of fear of exposure. He left your house in a very angry mood.”
“She encouraged him? Where is her brain?”
“In quite the right place. Perry said that he found Charlotte Bellamy on her aunt’s farm before your betrothal to her was granted. At that time Perry was himself betrothed, to our fair Andrea. I think you’ll agree, sir, Perry cannot speak out against you—it would implicate him in a conspiracy a good deal more serious than yours.”
“I should see him...”
“Beg pardon, sir, but I disagree. There seems no point, not so long as he’s being watched. I feel certain he will try to blackmail you, but he will not show his cards. Ignore him. For now.”
Seavers’s face was red with rage. Perry was the kind of man who would use any means to intimidate and blackmail him. He would take the profits of one ship! “Does he think I will not fight him for this fleet? Does he think I’ll answer to his blackmail?”
“Undoubtedly, sir,” Rodney replied.
“Is it time for Charlotte Bellamy to die?” Seavers asked.
“It indeed is time for her to live, sir. And thank fate that a woman capable of not wilting in the face of trouble is at your side. I think Perry would attempt these manipulations even if you were wed to the genuine article, and no doubt the real Charlotte could not maintain her composure as well as our Alicia does.”
“I’ll be mighty glad when this is done.”
“Aye, sir. Go to work and consider it done now. I perceive no danger in Lord Perry.”
“I only wish I were as confident as
you, Rodney. I am never surprised by Perry’s mischief. He may yet find a way to get his hands on a fortune.”
“I’ve stepped up protection for Lady Seavers, sir. I’ve employed another steward and am keeping myself mostly at the house.”
Geoffrey nodded, trying to hide his embarrassment. He had been concerned with the profits of his ships and had not thought that Alicia might be in a compromising position. “Keep her safe, Rodney,” he said as an afterthought.
“Of a certain. And at the risk of being too bold, sir, may I suggest you look in on her from time to time?”
“Ah, yes, of course.”
The king’s coach rattled on its way to Whitehall, and within, the men laughed over the escapades of the king’s previous evening, when he’d taken an outrageous actress from the Duke’s Theatre to supper with him. The actress entertained a group with her obscenities and flirtations, and then rumor had it that she’d visited the king’s bedchamber for yet another entertaining job. Charles would not admit or deny the fact, much to his friends’ frustration.
“I think it a dangerous game to upset Barbara so close to her lying in, and Madame Stewart so close to her deflowering,” Buckingham taunted.
“Madame Stewart is no closer to losing her maidenhead than ever she was,” Charles assured them.
“It was kind of you to ask after Lady Seavers, Sire, but it would please me more if you’d insist on her presence. Some of us could use something new to look at.”
“Odd’s fish, haven’t we enough trouble over women? Let Seavers keep her to himself for a while.”
“If she is your investment, why not profit more by her presence?” George asked him.
“She’s nervous with the court. Barbara fawns over her and it seems to make her quiver beyond anything I’m able to bear,” Charles answered. “Let her be. She won’t be around long.”
“Where the devil do you think she’ll go?” James asked.
“Can’t be sure, but likely Seavers will move his industry out of London and take her along. He’s selling Bellerose when it’s refurbished, which is what I expected him to do.”
“How sits your shipping if he leaves?”
“Quite well, I imagine. He cannot do without England, but he need not play parties and gamble when he could be working.” Charles peered at his friends with that dark-eyed wisdom that no one quite understood and dared not question. “I’d been looking for a way to stuff Seavers’s pockets with money for a long while, since there’s no one at court more eager to lose himself in work than that one. Lucky for us all that Charlotte Bellamy and her inheritance happened along. Now Seavers builds a fortune for us both.”
“There’s talk about Lady Seavers, Sire. No one can quite believe the good fortune and untimely death of Sir Fergus. Truth to tell,” George said, “I don’t either.”
“Fergus was a good man, though not worth all that much. As for his daughter, sweet and lovely as she is, I would not have taken up her cause had it not put money directly into the pocket of a privateer seeking the greatness Seavers expects.”
“Aha,” James laughed. “Had there not been a good sailor with far-reaching dreams available, poor Charlotte would be selling oranges for her bread.”
“No doubt.”
“And the fortune?” George asked.
“With as many bastards to support as have I?” The king chuckled. “I imagine I could have easily found a place to drop the inheritance Fergus left. But sad to say, none of my children would work half so hard to make money for me as Seavers will.”
“Why didn’t you finance him long ago if you were so sure of him?”
“There had to be money first, George. And I had at least to grant myself the amusement of watching him go after it.” Charles laughed. “I love his lust for gold. It’s marvelous!”
“I wonder if his lust for his wife equals it,” George said.
“If it doesn’t, he is an idiot. I have seen her,” Charles said.
Alicia spent an unusually great amount of time out of doors, but she did not go abroad at all. Since the day her purse was torn from her wrist, followed not too long after by the visit from Culver Perry, she had begun to fear being out in the teeming London streets, regardless of the protection Rodney offered.
Alicia had been informed that Geoffrey had been confronted, via message, by Culver Perry, but thankfully he had chosen not to respond. “He must be wild with fury,” she told Rodney, speaking of Culver. “No one will give attention to his tale.”
“We will not, madam, but tales are plentiful here and no one seems to grow tired of them.”
“I have not left the house and already this week I’ve heard the king is a confirmed Catholic, that he was married to Monmouth’s mother, and that Barbara Palmer is paying an acrobat to sleep with her. Rumors, it seems, are the best-loved things in London.”
“You are not concerned?” Rodney asked her, marveling at her composure.
“I’m deeply concerned, but I am not foolish. At this moment, I think Perry would have as much success in saying the king is not who he pretends to be. There is only one thing I fear: that Perry has some evidence that we know nothing of, some property or paper that could only belong to Charlotte Bellamy that I do not have.”
“There’s no way to prepare for that, madam, other than what we are already doing.”
“I’m quite sure that Lord Perry is holding the woman whose right it is to be in this home, wed to Lord Seavers. If he has her, we should know it. It is easier to deal with the trouble if we know where the trouble lives.”
“And if we find her, madam, I assure you Lord Seavers will throw himself in the sea in pure panic.”
“If Charlotte has trusted Lord Perry, Rodney, she needs our sympathy. Let’s carry on the watch and pray that Culver grows tired of this method of making money.”
It was less than a week later that Rodney informed her that Perry had been seen on New Street, visiting an apartment there, where a heavyset, copper-haired wench was living. There was the distinct possibility in Rodney’s mind that it was indeed Charlotte.
Without giving the matter much thought, Alicia asked him to find a hell cart to replace the family coach and take her for a tour of the place. “I suppose you’ll be angry that I had not mentioned this to you, but the woman who tore away my purse accused me of being an impostor. I’m quite certain she is Charlotte. If we should happen to see her, I could tell you for sure.”
“Why did you say nothing?” Rodney asked her.
“And borrow trouble for your troubled lord? He is so frightened now that he can barely stand to look at me.”
Rodney helped her on with her cloak and lifted her chin to look into her soft eyes. “And you, lass. Are you not a little frightened of Newgate for yourself?”
“Kind sir, you brought me away from a prison yourself. How can you think Newgate would frighten me more than anything else has?” She shrugged and pulled on her gloves and picked up her vizard. “I have an advantage that Lord Seavers does not have; I have never known where I would live next and even now do not know. Whether prison or palace, I will manage somehow.”
“His lordship fails to thank you properly,” Rodney told her.
“Not so, sir. He does not thank me at all.”
The hell cart bounced along the London streets past the ‘Change and through the Jewish quarter. As they pulled closer to New Street, Alicia pulled back the dark drape and, with the vizard over her face, she peered out. She hoped to catch a glimpse of a woman who could be Charlotte, but another sight caught her eye. Crosses on three doors on the street caused her blood to run cold and made it difficult for her to breathe.
The church bells had tolled three more deaths this morning, and the crosses were moving across town with frightening speed. The first registered plague death had been taken lightly; the second, third, and fourth were generally ignored. But now there could be no doubt that plague was in the city and it was creeping closer and closer to the rich. Many nobles were already leavi
ng London for their country estates to escape the illness.
“We won’t stay here and wait,” she said abruptly. “Show me which apartment it was and let’s be away.”
Rodney pointed to the building, a shop below and four stories of living quarters above, its sides flush with the building beside it, many shops and houses stacked together like logs. “If that is where she lives, she may not be here long.” Alicia gulped. “I don’t like feeling responsible for her nearness to disease.”
“You are in no way responsible, madam,” Rodney argued. “Had she not fled her betrothal to Lord Seavers she would not be residing in a plague neighborhood. It is her doing.”
“No, good sir, I think not. I think if I am not to be blamed, then Lord Perry should be. I am sure if she is here it is because he brought her.”
“Still, madam, she had a choice.”
Alicia thought for a moment, and at a lift of her hand, Rodney called out to the driver to take them out of the streets and home.
There was no stopping the flood of memories Alicia had of Culver Perry, his smooth tongue and his incredible sincerity. There were things that Culver was expert at: lies and the ability to seduce a woman. Wicked and hateful as he was, he was handsome, articulate, and a consummate actor. He could charm the hide off a wild boar.
Alicia did not blame Charlotte, even though she thoroughly blamed herself for having once fallen prey to his charms.
“Who is the man you’ve hired to watch Lord Perry?” she asked Rodney.
“Mr. Scanland, a retired sea captain I’ve known for some years. He is not young, but he is capable.”
“Ask him to take special care of his health; but if it is possible, he should speak to the woman on New Street. She may be inclined to tell a friendly old gentleman her story.”
“Aye, madam.” Rodney smiled and patted her hand. He had guessed she would be a fitting woman to help young Geoffrey, but daily she amazed him with her wit and intelligence.