“Well, this is a fine mess,” he said when I finished.
I was reminded of my talk with Gaston this evening. “We bring little else to this world but fine tragedy,” I said sadly.
“Nay, nay,” Theodore said with a friendly smile. “As I have ever told my wife, you merely make life interesting.”
The anger gripping Gaston had departed, and he had slumped down to sit with his back to the couch on which Agnes sat and drape one arm across her knee. He looked up, and his Horse smiled at me.
I smiled back. There was a time when his Horse being so evident might have scared me, but we had come so very far. It was a pleasant thought: we had come so very far, and we would endure and conquer whatever this brought, as we had everything else the Gods had flung at us.
“There you are!” came from the doorway, and I turned to find Vivian hurrying in the door, a drowsy little baby in her arms.
At the sight of the child, my matelot’s more animal self fled, and he stood and peered at the girl who regarded him with sleepy interest.
“Um,” Vivian said as she regarded him. She glanced at her daughter who was, of course, too young to understand any of it. “This is your… papa.” That solution in naming seemed to please Vivian, and she promptly thrust the now-frowning infant into my matelot’s arms.
She turned to me, and surprised me with an embrace. “I am so glad you are alive.”
I smiled in spite of all else I had been thinking. It was amusing to hear those words from someone who had wished me dead on many occasions—and I her.
“Aye, we lived, and you look well, as does the little one.”
My wife did indeed look well. She appeared to have lost most of the weight she had gained while pregnant. Sobriety had made her beautiful. Her creamy complexion was clear and bright, her hazel eyes shone, and her long honey-colored hair glistened in the lamplight. She smiled winsomely at me, and I could well see how Nickel had become enthralled.
“We need to speak,” she said.
“Nickel,” I said and grinned. “You have my blessing if it is a thing you want. We will have to sort through…”
She cut my words short with a squeal of delight and embraced me anew. “I knew you would not be angry! I told him. But he is so… proper.”
“Quite a change from the noble boys you were raised around,” I teased.
She laughed. “Aye. Or married.”
She looked to my matelot, who was cooing over her child, and her happiness dimmed.
“He is not so… enamored with our little Jamaica, though, as he is with me.” She sighed.
“Good,” I said. “Go and have other children with him; we will raise her.”
She frowned at that. “Aye, but… Well, we will all live together, won’t we: in some fashion?”
“I suppose,” I said, contemplating how or where we would all live in light of the Marquis’ letter and… everyone, and… I felt very tired and old. I thought of the allegory Gaston and I shared of our being two centaurs hitched to a wagon into which we heaped all that we owned. When we roved, it was a chariot filled with our love. Here, it was a great dray filled with women and babies and titles and all manner of heavy things. And the road ahead of us was long and seemingly steeper by the moment.
“We will find some way through the thickets,” I said as much for my benefit as for anyone else’s.
“You will have to speak with Nickel,” Vivian said and pulled me deeper into the room, away from the others. “I love him, truly, as I have never thought I would; but his sense of propriety is quite entrenched. It is the only thing we have fought over. It is as if… Well, he will not take my word on the matter: that you will set me free. I have felt quite insulted. It is…” She sighed and searched my face.
“He does not trust you?” I asked kindly.
“Aye,” she sighed. “I feel… It is complicated. All here do not trust me when it comes to a bottle. I have become inured to it. I have told myself that it is for my own good. And there are times when Rachel is quite… annoying, about worrying that my behavior will be improper when about a man. They all decided that Nickel should sleep here and Julio and Davey should guard the Theodores’. I wish to… be beyond all that, but I suppose my misdeeds will always haunt me, will they not?”
I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Our past sins have a way of haunting us, aye. I thank the… I feel I am quite fortunate that I am not surrounded by those who knew me before I journeyed here.” Alonso had been the only one, and that had ended in tragedy. “It must be trying for you.”
She nodded.
“You look quite lovely, and I am very proud of you,” I added.
She smiled. “Thank you. You were very wise in much of what you said before. I am learning… How did you put it? Who the girl was beneath all the rum.”
“Good for you,” I said.
Jamaica let out a plaintive squawk and her mother glanced to her with a small smile.
“She has woken enough to discover she does not know the man holding her,” Vivian said with amusement.
“They will have time to become better acquainted,” I said with surety. “We will sort this through, I promise. But first, there are other worries.”
“Aye,” she said brusquely, “We must leave this damn island.”
I was surprised. “Aye, that is the conclusion we reached. What has occurred here?’
She shook her head. “I will let your sister tell you of it, and Mister Theodore.”
“All right, then,” I said.
Jamaica burst into a full-throated wail; and with a quick peck on my cheek, Vivian went to rescue her. Gaston seemed both relieved and reluctant to relinquish the squalling girl.
Vivian swept out of the room with the same aplomb with which she had entered, and Gaston and I were left alone again with Theodore and Agnes. Theodore closed the door this time.
“I suppose you wish to divorce her now,” Theodore said with some amusement.
“Aye, is that possible?” I asked.
“She can cite sufficient cause to divorce you, but that would cause other complications. And it would require that she remain on English soil.”
“We were planning to tell you that we think we should all relocate to Tortuga. I take it that you have all had similar thoughts.” I said with concern.
Agnes nodded gravely.
“Aye, we have been awaiting your arrival,” Theodore said. “But we will all discuss that in a moment, I believe.”
“Well, as we will be changing countries, and France and the Catholic church give not a whit about a Church of England marriage unless it involves royalty, can we not merely say that I am divorced, or the marriage was annulled, and allow Nickel and her to marry on Tortuga?”
“Spoken like a good heretic,” Theodore said with a smile. “Nay, Young Nickel is a devout member of the Church of England, and believes in the sanctity of the marriage between you and Mistress Williams, even if the two of you do not. He came to see me about this matter.”
“Oh Bloody…” I sighed.
“Agnes and I will need to be married at once in the Catholic Church,” Gaston said thoughtfully.
“Aye,” Theodore said with concern. “If you wish to… ignore your father’s wishes.”
“I do not wish to, but I will not be married to that bitch,” Gaston said. “I chose Agnes, and I will stand by that decision.”
“So be it, then,” Theodore said with a shrug. “I hope the two of you are prepared to deal with priests.”
We sighed in unison.
I imagined they would be the same priests I had threatened over dinner at Doucette’s—and told I was an atheist. We were doomed.
“Have either of you heard from my father concerning matters of my legal competence?” Gaston asked.
“Aye,” Theodore said. “Your father wrote me that the matter would best be addressed on French soil. Someone, either a member of the Catholic Church, or a representative of the French government, needs to observe and in
terview you, and write a report concerning the matter to be delivered to the courts in France.”
We sighed in unison again.
Theodore held up his hand. “Until the matter of your competence has been resolved, however, I am in possession of documents naming Will as your guardian.”
We sighed with relief.
“Thank the Gods,” I said.
“And you will have to stop saying things of that nature once we are on Tortuga,” Theodore chided.
I smiled grimly. “Aye.”
“You’ll get yourself burned at the stake,” he muttered and turned to the door. “Now, let us all go and exchange the rest of our news. I assume you do not wish any others to know of this.”
“Nay,” Gaston and I said.
Agnes’ slim shoulders sagged in relief.
“All will be well,” Gaston assured her as he helped her stand.
As she followed Theodore from the room, I put a hand on Gaston’s shoulder. He nodded for Agnes to go on without him, and turned to me.
“How are we?” I breathed.
“Well enough for the moment,” he sighed tiredly. “If I dwell upon it, it will consume me.”
“Then I am sorry to distract you,” I said lightly.
He smiled sadly, and hooked an arm around my neck to pull my mouth to his and kiss me with desperate fervor. I returned it, and held him a brief time after our lips parted, wishing I could embrace and soothe his racing heart.
“We will endure,” I whispered.
“And conquer,” he sighed and released me.
We joined the others in the atrium. Mistress Rachel Theodore came to embrace us warmly. The Theodores’ negress, Hannah, was climbing the stairs with their daughter Elizabeth. Henrietta swooped in and offered to take Jamaica from Vivian and up to join the other children in the nursery. I spied the ever-incongruous couple of calm, educated, maroon Julio, and his argumentative and stupid English matelot, Davey. I shared an embrace with the former and a handshake with the latter. Then we all gathered around the tables, where Sarah was seated and wine had been set out. Gaston sat next to Vivian, and I went to stand behind Agnes and wrap my arms about her slim form. She stiffened at first with surprise, and then quickly sighed and relaxed against me.
“Well, it appears we have all survived. Shall we exchange tales of woe?” I said lightly to all.
“I have been hearing the tales already,” Sarah said with a smile and sad glance at her husband’s missing arm. “But other than wounds, there is little we here have not learned on our own.”
“How did you lose your arm?” Theodore asked Striker.
“Aye,” Liam added.
“Spanish ambush on Hispaniola,” Striker said quickly with a dismissing wave. “I will tell you all of it once we sail.”
“We’re all ready ta leave,” Liam said. “Where be the Queen?”
“Out beyond the Passage, so that she can run if there is trouble,” Striker said. “Were you expecting us?” he asked with surprise.
“Aye and nay,” Sarah said. “We have been arranging passage on the Belle Mer.”
“The Belle Mer? Savant?” Striker asked. “Why is he here?”
I sighed as I remembered Captain Savant, the square-headed man who had hated Gaston so when last we sailed with the French. We had won him over somewhat, but I still did not like him.
“They took an ugly ship off Cuba and came to sell her quickly,” Julio said. His matelot chuckled, and Striker eyed them curiously until Julio added, “A truly ugly and un-seaworthy vessel: if she had not been filled with dye wood she would have sunk.”
“Savant has agreed to take us to Tortuga,” Theodore said. “We were going to leave a note.”
“Oh, thank you,” I teased.
“Aye, we were goin’ ta leave it with Belfrey or Massey, an’ then write another note on the walls in paint ta let ya know where the real one be,” Liam said. “We were goin’ ta be clever an’ all and not say their names, but let ya know in some other way. What with bastards burnin’ our warehouse and Theodore havin’ ta take down ’is shingle, we didna’ want ta bring trouble down upon them, but it’s likely these houses would be sacked as soon as there weren’t a loaded piece behind the doors. The damn bastards would na’ leave a note ’ere even iffn they couldna’ read it. Probably ’ave orders to take it all ta the gov’na’.”
I was surprised, and I looked to Theodore and Sarah for confirmation and found sad and resigned nods.
“It has been made clear that we are no longer welcome in Port Royal, or allowed to conduct business here,” Sarah said.
“We heard as much from Morgan,” I said.
“It be a damn good thing ya asked us lot ta stay,” Liam said.
“Aye,” Theodore said bitterly. “I do not cut a figure so imposing that I can prevent my wife from being harassed in the market.”
Striker sighed and took his wife’s hand. “We should not have left you.”
Pete grimaced and scratched his head before releasing a lengthy sigh of his own. “AyeAn’Nay. AllThatBeBehind UsNow. WhenCanYa’BeReady?”
“On which ship?” Sarah asked with a teasing smile. “We were almost prepared to sail a week ago, but then Morgan and another ship arrived, and Julio learned that if you survived the storm you should be along soon. So we agreed to wait another week, and paid Savant good coin to do so. He has already been approached by several captains and told not to take on any passengers. Thankfully, he gives not a damn for what our fellow Englishmen think. He is quite impressed with Gaston’s title, and Agnes has done much to charm him as Lady Montren—even convincing him to take the dogs.”
“I’m not leaving without the dogs,” Agnes said.
Gaston smiled at her with great regard, and I chuckled.
“Aye, we could o’ all left on the flyboat we got stashed up the Palisadoes a month ago if na’ fer the dawgs,” Liam said with a teasing smile.
“Nay!” Rachel said quickly. “Even without those beasts, we could not all fit upon that little boat.”
“You have a boat hidden away?” Striker asked Liam and Sarah.
“Aye,” Sarah said, “we developed battle and escape plans for every scenario. Pete should be proud.”
“We drilled,” Rucker said. “And practiced with arms.”
Pete was grinning. “IBeRightProud O’AllO’YaThen.”
“I have even trained the dogs to behave and follow me instead of running amuck,” Agnes said.
“Aye my lady, but they’ll still be shittin’ on Savant’s decks,” Davey said.
“Nay, now they will be shitting on the Bard’s decks,” I said.
“Maybe you all should sail with Savant,” Striker said as if giving the matter serious thought until Sarah smacked him playfully.
“OneO’UsShould GoAn’Tell TheBardSomethin’,” Pete said seriously. “ShouldGoTonight Iffn’ItBeAsBadAsYaSay. PeopleBeKnowin’ WeBeAbout ByMornin’.”
“Aye,” I agreed. “If they have approached Savant and told him not to take you on, then they do not wish for you to leave.” I was chilled anew with our reason for wishing to sneak ashore. “We have thought it likely they could be waiting on our return.”
“They most assuredly have been,” Theodore said. “They could have done whatever they wished to do months ago; but instead, they ruined our businesses and then prevented us from leaving, but took no further action against us.”
“Then let us slip away in the night,” I said.
As if the Gods mocked us, the dogs began to bark viciously in the back yard, until a shot rang out and one of the animals yelped piteously.
Eighty-Four
Wherein We Are Cast Into Hell
“Women an’ babes to the boat!” Liam hissed as all erupted into motion.
Agnes twisted from me and began to whistle shrilly.
I did not have a pistol; nor did Gaston, Pete, or Striker. I wanted to ask for a piece, but everyone was already racing about in pursuit of his or her assigned task. We four new a
rrivals, who had not been given a role in their well-conceived and -drilled battle plans, began to scramble about looking for weapons.
There was pounding at the front door: not the knock of someone demanding entry, but the widely spaced booms of a battering ram. Pete went upstairs, and passed Henrietta and Hannah scurrying down with the children. Gaston slapped my shoulder, and I turned in time to see him running for the stairs leading up to what had once been our room. I followed, only to dive back as men fired upon him from the yard. Gaston threw himself flat. Davey and Julio were using the stable and cookhouse for cover in order to fire on these attackers. Sarah and Striker emerged from her office with braces of pistols, just as the bar to the front door cracked, spraying splinters and then men into the foyer. I snatched two pistols from Sarah and tossed them to my matelot. Then I snatched two more from Striker and began firing at the men pouring into the atrium.
Striker and Sarah retreated toward the room next to her office. Gaston and I stood back to back and began to hack about with blades. There had been no time to reload, and no ammunition. I could see no one else we knew in the press of men, and they were not buccaneers: not an earring among them. They were dressed like good common Englishmen, in boots, coats, and hats. My father had sent an army to take us. I was not sure if I was pleased they were not attempting to kill us. Dozens surrounded Gaston and me.
It is actually easier to fight men who wish you dead under such circumstances. Then, each man will assume he can strike the killing blow and attack as he feels able: making himself an easy target and thus removing him from the battle. When capture is the objective, they ring around and fight as a unit. We were like baited bulls.
I finally stood with three men bleeding at my feet, the reassuring presence of Gaston’s back behind mine, and ten leering and barking faces before me.
“Lord Marsdale,” a voice boomed from my right. “It is done. Drop your weapons and surrender.”
I felt Gaston move behind me and heard the gack of a weapon hitting home. I turned my head and saw the speaker begin to topple from the table he had stood upon, with Gaston’s blade in his chest. Then the wall of men surged forward and we went down.
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