True to the seaman’s words, however, Nevara found the hammock much more comfortable than the cot, though her seasickness did confine her to the cabin all the rest of that day. By the next evening, the wind had calmed enough to allow her to venture on deck only to be enchanted by a serene sunset.
The Terrances, seated on chairs on the main deck, gazed at the multicolored sky. Hardly a cloud hid the sun as it disappeared into the horizon in glorious multicolor. On the opposite horizon, a gibbous moon rose, almost full. Nevara took a seat beside them.
It was a breathtaking night. The water rippled gently and the breeze teased out tendrils from her neatly combed hair. Above, the sails spread out, wide and high. She wished she could share this moment with Mark.
The breeze stayed so steady that the canvas remained completely stretched and the sails appeared motionless. She had read tales of the sea’s beauty, those stories were nothing compared to the real experience.
Belle invited Nevara to their cabin for a glass of sherry before bed. With a sigh, Nevara gave up hope of seeing Mark and accepted.
Once in the cabin, Lord Terrance procured the drinks.
“Nevara, you seem quiet this evening,” Belle said. “Did you not enjoy the sunset and stars? Or was the company not all you hoped for?” The twinkle in her eyes made it clear the lady was aware whose company was missed.
“Mark has kept much to himself of late,” Nevara said. “Could he be unwell?”
Lord Terrance set the drinks before the ladies. Holding onto his glass, he rested his tall sturdy form against the cabin wall and shared his attention between the ladies and the view through the porthole. “I spoke to Alvaro earlier this morning. He seemed well enough, if distracted. Odd, however, that he has declined every card game I have proposed lately.”
“Could he be angry because someone called him a witch?” The thought had bothered Nevara ever since the crow incident. If he was that offended by the suggestion he was not normal, it explained his reaction to her aunt telling him Nevara was odd. It made her wish to be normal that much more urgent. She twirled her glass, watching the red liquid slosh.
“What we need,” Belle said, “is a way to lure Mark’s attention back to us. And I have the very idea.”
“My dearest,” Lord Terrance said in a patient voice, “would it not be better to allow him to socialize on his terms?”
Belle gave him a startled glance and then shook her head. “We have waited long enough for him to do so.”
“Two days.” Her husband wore an indulgent smile.
“Two is ample. Now we take matters into our hands.”
“What do you suggest?” he asked, with a crooked smile. “Another billiards game? I take leave to inform you that we lack a suitable table.”
Nevara was surprised to see the comment elicit a vivid blush on the countess’s cheeks.
Belle gave her husband a cross look and turned to Nevara. “He teases me, for that was how I distracted his mother’s worry about a persistent ghost. Rufus has yet to forgive me for not including him in our games.”
Lord Terrance came up behind his wife and whispered something in her ear. Belle’s blush flared even deeper, and she avoided Nevara’s glance while Lord Terrance chuckled and sat beside his wife.
Nevara observed their intimate communication with longing. Would she, one day, share secrets with Mark? Two mornings ago, before that crow crashed into the ship’s sails, she thought she had caught a glimpse of this type of tenderness in his gaze. Or had that simply been wishful thinking?
“I will not allow you to divert me from my idea.” Belle gave her husband a stern look. “For it is a tremendous notion.”
Nevara found Belle’s enthusiasm contagious. She was ready to agree to whatever the countess planned, if it could bring Mark out of his doldrums.
“With the weather so calm and consistent, we should hold a musicale. For both the passengers and crew?”
“Can we do such a thing?” Nevara asked in surprise. “Is there enough room on deck?”
“We can make room on the main deck. Rufus, will you speak to the captain?”
“I can ask. Though I feel no surety that he will agree. It might prove too entertaining for his crew. I have learned he likes to keep his men on task while at sea.”
“But that is the best part of my plan,” Belle said. “Are we not due to arrive in Cape Finisterre on the morrow?”
Her husband cautiously nodded.
Belle’s voice rose with her growing excitement. “And did the captain not say that he intended to anchor for the day while he brought in fresh stores?”
Again a nod, now with an understanding smile.
Belle turned to Nevara and spoke conspiratorially. “I noticed that the captain has the utmost loathing for sending his crew ashore whenever we lie in any harbor. I questioned him on this and he said it was easier to send his men to shore than to recall them.” She sat back with a cheerful expression. “Well, there you have it then. What better way to keep his crew ship bound, or at least to keep the ones he wishes to stay onboard from plaguing him with requests to go ashore, than to offer them another form of entertainment?”
Lord Terrance laughed. “You are a mastermind at deviousness. How did I withstand your charms?”
“You did for long enough.”
Once again seeing the intimate light in the couple’s gazes, Nevara stood and bid them goodnight. As she made her way to her cabin, she paused by Mark’s room and could not resist leaning against the door to listen. He was mumbling low and regularly under his breath, but she could not catch any distinct words though she sensed a tempo. What was he doing? Would their entertainment entice him out? She hoped so.
In her cabin, Mendal was reading the Bible. She was tempted to tell the maid about Belle’s plans, but then reconsidered. Tonight, she was not in a mood for a lecture on comportment from the straitlaced maid. Mendal might disapprove of Nevara socializing with her betters.
Belle, on the other hand, seemed to make no distinction between their stations. Nevara wondered if she acted the same way while in society. If so, she must face some opposition from members of the Ton. But then, she was a countess, married to a wealthy peer, so her peculiarities might be excused.
Nevara knelt to open her sea chest. Inside, neatly folded, was the beautiful cream-colored china crepe evening gown that Lady Roselyn had bought for her. With heartfelt gratitude, she carefully placed the gown aside and dug deeper into the box.
“What do you have there, miss?” Mendal asked.
“This was given to me by my mother.” Gently, she took out the lace stays tucked inside and held them up. The garment was of an ancient design that tied in the front.
“Oh, miss, ‘tis beautiful.”
Nevara smiled, but her head had begun to throb. Why did her megrims have to plague her now? She hoped she would be well enough for the musicale tomorrow. She put the stays over the gown, and noticed again the material’s black lining along its seams.
“Is that not odd?” she said, rubbing at her temples. “Why use black edging along white lace?”
“Black edging?” Mendal sounded surprised, then, hugged her Bible tighter. “What black edging?”
A chill crept along the back of Nevara’s neck. Why did her vision have to spoil this moment? She put the gown and stays away and shut the trunk. “Never mind. My eyes are tired and I feel a headache coming on. I want to be rested for tomorrow so I shall turn in now.”
The throbbing in her head had increased, encompassing her entire body, and sweat beaded on her forehead. She lay on the hammock with her eyes closed and listened to Mendal pray for their salvation.
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”
The steady dr
one of the maid’s voice acted like a balm, and for the first time, she was thankful for Mendal’s presence in her cabin. Nevara drifted off to sleep imagining Mark kissing her.
CONVINCING THE captain to hold the evening entertainment proved easier than persuading Mark to come out of his cabin long enough to enjoy it. Lord Terrance reported that Mark had conceded to come out for one half hour if Nevara sang.
She took the news as both good and bad. Though she was disappointed he would not be there for most of the evening, she was inordinately thrilled that he wanted to hear her sing. She had a tolerable voice and was more than willing to use it to entice him into her company.
The next day, Belle and Nevara spent the morning on deck, arranging chairs and hanging torches along the rails with the enthusiastic help of the seamen who were not on watch and other female passengers onboard. Stores began to arrive for the festivities from the town of Cape Finisterre and they set out scores of flowers, and platters of fresh vegetables, fruit and baked goods on the deck.
News spread of the planned festivity and as the afternoon progressed, men, women and children gathered along the shoreline in anticipation of the entertainment onboard.
Belle had assigned Nevara to arrange the musical part of the evening. Talking to the sailors, she gained three men who possessed a drum, a flute, and a tin whistle, and were reasonably proficient at playing them. As orchestras went, the trio left much to be desired. She hoped the countess would not be too disappointed. Still, it was something. Then she learned that they were only familiar with sea shanties.
John, the second mate, offered to sing one. At her nod, he obligingly sang a little ditty called, “Spanish Ladies.”
“Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish ladies,” he began in a strong baritone. “Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Spain, for we have received orders for to sail to old England; But we hope in a short time to see you again. We’ll rant and we’ll roar like true British sailors.”
Nevara held up her hand. “Do you know any others?”
“How ‘bout this, miss?” he asked. “Now Jack was a sailor who roamed on the town.”
And so the selection of music continued. In the end, she settled on three that seemed innocuous enough and hoped Lord and Lady Terrance would not be too offended. Then she surveyed the passengers’ musical talents.
Everyone’s excitement grew as the day progressed. By early evening, men and women hurried from one part of the ship to the other in a rush to be ready for the entertainment. Nevara returned below deck and found Mendal about to leave to help Lady Terrance dress. The maid asked if she would like any help afterwards.
Nevara shook her head. The lace was delicate and ancient. If the maid pulled too hard, the material and stitching might fall apart. “I can manage, Mendal, thank you.”
“Then I shall see you on deck,” the maid said. She hesitated before leaving, giving Nevara a concerned look. “Would you . . .” she started to say and then stopped.
“What is it, Mendal?”
“If you do not care for those stays, do not wear them.”
“Mendal,” Nevara said with a laugh, “has this voyage made you as superstitious as the captain? There is nothing wrong with that garment. My eyes, well, they sometimes play tricks on me.”
Again Mendal paused and then her words poured out nineteen to a dozen. “As a child, my lady used to mistrust her visions. I have seen, over the years though, despite my aversion to them, ‘tis best when she follows where they lead her. I have come to believe they are a gift from God. So you should listen to yours, miss, not ignore them.”
It astonished Nevara that Mendal, who seemed as God-fearing as her aunt, was suggesting that her talent came not from the devil, but God. How could two women with similar beliefs see her visions from such disparate views?
She promised to keep Mendal’s advice in mind. Once the maid left, she turned the key to lock the door, not wishing to be disturbed while she changed. She sat on the cot to comb her hair, watching the stays from across the room. Mendal was right on one count. Something about them did feel wrong. Every time she looked at them, black lines circled and swirled, affecting her sight. Her aunt said she should ignore the devil’s call, which is what she had labeled Nevara’s visions.
“Do not give them your attention, and they will pass.”
Nevara looked away and pulled her hair up as she had seen Mendal do with Belle’s hair. Tonight, she wanted to look especially beautiful. She wanted to feel pretty, and those lace stays would help her do it. They looked as if they were designed for a princess. She would ignore her vision as her aunt instructed and wear the garment proudly. After all, they had been a wedding gift to her great-great grandmother. What could possibly be wrong with such a loving bequest?
FOR THE PAST two days, Mark had used everything that his grandmother taught him to weave his protection spell. This was the task he had been saving his energy to perform. No matter what struck at them in the coming days, he intended to ensure the Magdalena would sail safely toward Cadiz. With the bulk of his work completed, Mark stepped out of his cabin.
He shut his door and noticed that his hand shook with exhaustion. With a sigh, he headed for the galley, inhaling its warm, fresh baked scents. To his relief, now fresh stores had been procured, fresh fruit, bread, sharp cheese and a well-cooked roast awaited him, though it was served by a surly cook. After his meal, feeling much stronger, he went on deck in search of Nevara, his staff in hand.
The air brimmed with singing and laughter. Torches lit the ship, and overhead, stars twinkled, bright and intense. On shore, too, people were celebrating this peaceful night. He wished he could join them, but in the stillness he sensed danger though he could not pinpoint the source.
He located the Terrances but was disappointed that Nevara was absent.
“Alvaro,” Terrance greeted him. “I am glad you have finally abandoned your cabin in exchange for our lowly company.”
“Good evening, my lord.” Mark bowed. “Lady Terrance. Is Nevara not joining us?” He glanced around the crowded deck looking for her dark curls and soft round face.
“Mendal tells me she should be here shortly,” Lady Terrance said. “I believe Nevara has sorely missed your company, Mark, and wishes to look her best for you tonight.”
“She does?” The thought of Nevara wishing to please him was as welcome as being wrapped in a hearth-warmed blanket on a cold wet day.
Lady Terrance laughed. “I see you, too, yearn for her. So, why the withdrawal? Have we displeased you?”
“Not at all. I merely had some matters to take care of.”
“At sea?” She studied him, her head tilted.
“My dear,” her husband said in a gentle tone, “he would have enlightened us if the matter were not private.”
She indicated with her hand for Mendal to move out of earshot then turned back and spoke softly. “I noticed your seclusion began shortly after the crow incident. Is there something you wish to share with us about the unusual event?”
“That is my wife,” Terrance remarked. “Direct to her core. One of the many traits I adore about her.”
Though his lordship’s words were spoken in jest, Mark could tell he was as serious as his wife. Mark was forbidden to speak of the spell that connected him to Nevara or about his magic. However, other matters were not so firmly bound. As they would all be in the midst of the fray soon, it might be best to have this astute couple aware of the danger they sailed into.
“The crow belongs to my grandmother.”
He could see his implication sink in slowly. The Terrances glanced at each other then back at Mark.
“His name is Guapo, and he brought a warning. I have since been preparing for the battle to come.”
“Alvaro,” Terrance said, “you have much to explain.”
“How long do we have?�
� Lady Terrance asked.
Mark shrugged. “The lull is our enemy gathering strength.”
“Is there anything we can do?” Terrance asked.
Mark shook his head. “You have kept Nevara company. That is all that can be done for now.”
A slender female passenger stepped forward to entertain them with a strident version of The Grenadier and the Lady.
Mark gestured for the earl and his wife to accompany him to the stern. Once they acquired relative privacy, he whispered, “My abilities will be limited once I step foot on Spanish soil.” He felt a dangerous stirring in the air as he approached the border of what he was allowed to say.
“Explain,” Terrance said.
“I cannot, my lord.”
“But are you seriously claiming to be a witch?” Terrance’s tone was skeptical.
“Wizard,” his wife said, startling Mark.
The lady was indeed extraordinarily perceptive.
“You cannot be serious?” her husband said to her.
“You once doubted the existence of ghosts, too, my love,” his wife reminded him gently before her attention swung back to Mark. “Your brother experienced a similar effect when he reached Spain, did he not?” Lady Terrance’s eyes widened as her talent led her along the correct path. “He died on the Peninsula.”
Mark’s chest tightened with a familiar ache. “Miguel should never have gone to Spain.”
Lady Terrance appeared stricken. “The moment his feet touched Spanish soil, his powers dissipated. He died in battle, shocked at his inability to perform even the simplest spell.”
Terrance gave Mark a startled glance. “If the same is likely to happen to you, why are you here?”
“I love her.” Mark spoke the words quietly, savoring them like little gems of truth.
“She does not know,” Lady Terrance said.
Mark looked toward the stairs, wondering why Nevara was delayed. “May I see what keeps her?”
“I shall send Mendal.” Lady Terrance raised her hand to call for her maid but her husband forestalled her.
A Perfect Curse Page 15