The Bride of Blackbeard

by Brynn Chapman

  “All right. I will need to be close to her to assess how deep the damage runs within her. And I swear I will try and do my best to improve her life. The first thing we need to do is get her out of that room.”

  “I do take her sometimes, but I have to be careful. She tries to run away, and she is very strong as you saw. She has no comprehension of danger. Her parents do not know that I take her out of her prison, so I am trusting you not to divulge my secret. When I saw you out in the sea being almost mommicked to death, I somehow knew you were a different type of woman.”

  “Many men find me too boyish,” she said flatly.

  Her hands were sitting on the table in plain sight. Without a second glance, he chose to take her left hand, the one with the deformity.

  “I like a woman who thinks for herself.” His gaze was unblinking. “Thank you. I could really use some help with the child. Her name is Megan.”

  ~ * ~

  Constanza stared down at the servants’ table that evening, lost in thought. It had been a long day, since they’d been up before dawn. She couldn’t understand the happy disposition of all those gathered. Vaguely, she heard talk of rumrunners in the area and pirates sabotaging merchant ships on their way into the outer banks of the state. She smiled as Kitty and Will sat, unmoving, entranced at Alfonse’s news of the pirates from his visit to Bath. Pirates had infiltrated the peace-loving villages and smuggled rum into the area. But all these rumors seemed mindless and silly tonight. All she could think of was the scene she’d witnessed earlier.

  Megan.

  In all my years of assisting with amputees, plague and influenza, I never saw anything that resembles what afflicts her. What is it? A brain fever? I always know, but I do not know this.

  From down the table, Lucian sat also uninvolved in the conversation. He merely stared, his deep brown eyes fixated on her, his fingers interlaced before his mouth. If she didn’t know his kind disposition, the intensity of his stare might frighten her. She fidgeted in her chair.

  I have never had a man look at me like he does. His eyes follow my every move. And yet he does not speak. I long to know what is in his head.

  Lucian’s eyes never left her until the servants began to depart from the table.

  Constanza walked out to the pizzer, as these people called their porch, and sat on the swing.

  The clomp of Lucian's approaching bootfalls sent chills rippling up her back. He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Mebbe we should move your quarters. I sincerely doubt you will get any rest below Meg’s room.”

  She guessed many would see the touches he bestowed on her as inappropriate, but she didn’t care.

  All I can hear is my heart beating in my ears when he touches me.

  Indeed, she found herself longing for him to touch her more. It seemed he took every opportunity he could to graze her hand, or the small of her back. Many times she thought she felt his hand trembling. Like her own legs.

  Dropping her head back to look up at him, she said, “I would need to discuss that with Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins. It has been two weeks and they have not mentioned Megan to me as yet. They have only spoken of their expectations for Lucas.”

  As he laced his fingers into her hair, she licked her dry lips and felt as if she might swoon. She swallowed hard before she continued. “I intend on dealing with it tomorrow. Why were you smiling in the kitchen this morning?”

  His lips turned up and he hung his head. She was certain, if there were more light, she would have been able to see red on his cheeks again.

  “There is a tale that says when two people see a ladybug at the same time, they are destined to be together.”

  “Really?”

  “Really...”

  She felt remorse as his fingers disengaged from her hair. The interlude was lost in the noise of the gaggle of boys that had made their way onto the porch.

  ~ * ~

  “I have heard rumors, Constanza, that you have already made Megan’s acquaintance.”

  Ian Hopkins' slight frame and billowy white shirt usually made his appearance quite harmless. But today, pale blue eyes beneath his furrowed brow were barely perceptible from where he stood behind his massive desk.

  “Yes, sir. I have only seen her one time so far. I apologize for not telling you. It was purely by accident. As I am certain you know, my room is directly below hers, and she is up most nights ‘til sunrise, so I couldn’t help, but—”

  “Yes, she is quite mad, I am afraid. A hopeless case. We are still trying to determine whether she is possessed or insane. I assure you that she has the very best physician and clergyman available. What I expect of you, is to try to make her more civilized, if possible. I would expect you to conduct private sessions in her room. She requires lessons in proper behavior, which come naturally to a normal child, such as learning to sit at a table to eat, how to use utensils. By the last report, I heard she still uses her hands to feed herself, and throws her fork and spoon with deadly accuracy.”

  You pompous dandy!

  Stanzy's insides quivered with rage and she swallowed the bile in her mouth. Pain shot through her hands as her fingernails dug into her palms. She struggled to master her rage and the chastisement that threatened to spill from her lips.

  “I do not believe she is insane or possessed, sir. I believe she is ill. I have been trained as a healer and a physician’s helper, as you know from my Uncle Delvin’s letters. I will do my best to do all for Megan that I can.”

  Hopkins winced at the sound of her name, which Stanzy had never heard him utter. He referred to her only as my daughter. “Yes, very well. You are to meet with me monthly and discuss how my son’s lessons are progressing as we have discussed—math, French, writing and reading.”

  After their meeting, Constanza walked outside and inhaled deeply of the morning air in an attempt to calm herself. She stomped down to the area she’d begun to clear for her herb garden. Kneeling, she began mentally planning the rows for each plant. Lost in thought, she startled when she heard a low, male voice.

  “Constanza, darlin’, I never figured you for a farmer. You seemed much more at home on me sloop than with your hands buried in the dirt.”

  Her head shot upright, knocking her off balance. She bit her lip as her bottom hit the ground.

  Edward Teache towered over her, his massive frame completely blotting out the sun. She shivered in his shadow. Power seemed to emanate from his person.

  “Good day, Mr. Teache. Here for business again?” She struggled to keep her voice from cracking.

  Look him in the eye. Do not let him know he frightens you.

  “Aye, call me Edward, Miss. Hadn’t we already spent an entire voyage across the seas together? Surely for a man and a woman, that means somethin’?”

  There is something odd about his eyes. Something...dead.

  “All right, Edward it is, then.” Her mind replayed the sounds of musket fire ringing in her ears. Women’s muffled cries from up on deck flitted in and out of her consciousness. This wasn’t a man to be trifled with, and she was no fool.

  “Would you care to take a turn with me then? Or better yet, how about a ride to Beaufort, to me new home? ‘Tis called Hammock House, and is along a beautiful creek—Taylor Creek. I have been thinking it is time I settle down. Been out to sea all me life. So what do you say? Is a ride to Beaufort in order then?” He extended his huge hand to help her up out of the mud.

  “I am sorry, but that will not be possible, sir. You see, Miss Smythe is expected to begin the children’s lessons in less than an hour.” From out of nowhere Lucian appeared, his face pinched in an expression she hadn’t seen in him before—anger.

  Teache, at six four, was taller than Lucian’s six foot frame. Lucian’s face muscles were taut with determination.

  “Blackwell.” Teache spoke his name as a curse word. "I was not aware you are Constanza’s employer. Perhaps I will go and see if Hopkins might part with his governess for a few days?”

  “You do that.�
�� Lucian abruptly grabbed Stanzy’s hand, yanked her to a standing position, and half dragged her in the direction of the schoolhouse.

  Once they were out of Teache’s sight, he jerked her roughly to him and spoke with some urgency. “Stanzy, he is a very dangerous man. Do not be fooled by his charms, he—”

  She touched her finger to his lips to quiet him, then placed her mouth to his, silencing him completely. Never in her life had she pushed herself on a man, but she couldn’t seem to help doing so with this one. His quiet and sincere ways were foreign and too incredibly appealing to her. He kissed her back with such passion, he frightened her.

  When their lips parted, his forehead rested against hers for a moment. He didn’t speak.

  “I am not fooled by Edward Teache, Lucian. Nor am I interested in any sort of a man such as he. I prefer a true character to one of bravado and show.” She smiled, her eyes focusing on something beyond him.

  “What?” he said quietly.

  “I beg you, look there.”

  He followed her pointing finger. Behind him, a wall teemed with movement. Thousands of ladybugs crawled and flew on and around the window sill.

  “I will go ‘round up the lads for you,” he said and turned to walk away from her. Then he glanced at her over his shoulder and awarded her with a smile that permeated his entire face. The brittle enclosure surrounding her heart shattered in a million pieces.

  I am sure I have never met a man like him in all of my days. ‘Tis over for me. I will never be satisfied with anyone but him.

  ~ * ~

  After the daily lessons were finished, she ambled into the manor’s entryway in time to catch the tail end of a spirited conversation.

  “Oh yes, Ian. It would be marvelous to have another woman along on our trip to Beaufort and Bath.”

  Katrina was standing next to Mrs. Hopkins, positively shaking with delight. “Oh, Stanzy!” her sister called when she caught sight of her. “Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins have asked me to go on their trip into the towns? You will not mind if I go, will you?”

  The man of the manor stood, rocking back and forth with self-importance on his high-heeled boots. He turned to fix his collar in the mirror. Constanza was reminded of a peacock pruning its feathers.

  “Mr. Hopkins, are you sure Katrina will not be any trouble?”

  “No, no. I daresay she will keep Mrs. Hopkins well occupied. When she travels with me on business, she finds it very dull indeed.”

  With their common interests in the latest fashion trends from abroad, Katrina and Mrs. Hopkins had become fast friends. Neither had the slightest interest in plantation life. Even Ian Hopkins seemed to take every possible opportunity to travel to the larger towns. Stanzy wondered if he had any idea what was occurring in his fields, at any time. Or even what crops he grew.

  “If you are certain, it will be all right, then,” she said, still unconvinced this trip would end well. Her high-strung greyhound of a sister wasn’t easily leashed.

  “I have to go gather my bags!” Katrina flew up the stairs, petticoats and frills trailing behind her.

  Oh my word. She is so impetuous. At least that is a constant.

  “Please watch her carefully, Mr. Hopkins. Katrina is a bit...careless.”

  ~ * ~

  Megan sat cross-legged in the corner of her room, her eyes closed. Her room was elegantly furnished with a four-poster canopy bed and polished hardwood floors. Dolls were strewn about everywhere.

  “A perfect prison,” whispered Constanza.

  Signs of mental instability were evident everywhere. Most dolls’ faces had been chewed off or broken; chairs with ropes on them accompanied each table. A single tiny chair with ropes sat facing the window. Stanzy swallowed hard, staring at the solitary chair, as if it personified this solitary little girl.

  Several items she’d never seen before were strewn about. Large pins and many sharp metal objects were housed on a shelf far above Megan’s reach. But for all the room’s elegance, noticeably absent was a lack of decoration, presumably because Bess realized Megan would break objects or use them as weapons on herself or other unsuspecting persons.

  On her hands and knees, Stanzy crawled toward Megan who sat hunched in the corner. The girl put her hands over her eyes and tried to bury her face into her legs.

  When she got to within five feet of her, Megan began to growl. Deep guttural vibrations echoed in the quiet room. But Stanzy wasn’t frightened; in fact, the noises sounded so forlorn to her that she was motivated to keep crawling.

  From the other room, she heard Bess whisper, “She not too smart is she?”

  She picked a doll up from the floor and said, “Hello, Meg. I am Stanzy.”

  Without warning, Megan vaulted onto Stanzy's chest, knocking her to the floor. Her tiny fingers ripped at Stanzy’s face like talons. The girl’s fingernails were so long, they curled over the tips of her fingers.

  Bess opened the door, but Stanzy screamed, “I am fine. Leave us.”

  Stanzy flipped Meg off and rolled, pinning her little arms. She whispered into her ear, “I know you understand me. You are just a little girl—a scared, angry little girl.”

  Megan’s little body slumped, her struggling faded to whimpers.

  “I am going to let you go, but you cannot scratch me again, do you understand?”

  Releasing her, the child curled into an unmoving ball, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Constanza stood and went around the room closing all the drapes. She began to light candles, high up, so Megan couldn’t reach them.

  After a time, Meg finally opened her eyes and really looked at her for the first time.

  Stanzy stood by the drapes, and she split them slightly to let a sliver of light into the dark bed chamber. Meg howled in pain and covered her eyes.

  “She is photophobic!” Stanzy cried triumphantly.

  “What are you talking about?” came the muffled reply from behind the adjacent door.

  Stanzy stuck her head in and said to Bess, “From now on, ‘til I tell you otherwise, the only light in Meg’s room is to be candlelight. Keep her curtains closed at all times, understand?”

  “All right,” Bess said. “If you think it will help her, I will run outside nekked if you say so.”

  They both burst out laughing.

  Stanzy walked through the room and her eyes froze on a small glass bottle on the mantel.

  “Bess, is this belladonna?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Her mother instructed us to give it to her each night so’s she would finally get some sleep.”

  “Yes, well, in excess, it causes photophobia.” She was met with a blank stare. “It makes light painful to her eyes,” she explained to Bess.

  “Oohh. My poor baby.”

  Stanzy was relieved to see Lucian wasn’t the only person at the manor who cared for this child.

  “It is probably the reason Megan cannot tolerate going outside as well. Do not give it to her again.”

  Bess nodded her understanding.

  Constanza sat in front of the little girl, who was now looking up at her from her prone position on the carpet. The girl was dressed in just a shift, no socks or boots of any sort.

  “What about her clothes? Surely they have given her clothes, with the opulence of this place?”

  Bess strode over to the closet and flung it open to reveal an overwhelming array of dresses, in all shapes and colors. “Oh she has lots of dresses. But she won’t keep anything on ‘cept that little undergarment. We have to keep washing it over and over. She tears the dresses to shreds if you put them on her.”

  “Hmm.” Stanzy continued to sit in front of Meg and laid on the floor two blocks Lucian had carved and painted in vibrant colors.

  She pointed to each block. “Red. Blue.” All the while, Meg kept eye contact with her.

  “Red.” Stanzy repeated as she pointed to the block, and this time brought her hand up and added a sign language motion of her hand while she said it. She followed the same pointing and a slightly diffe
rent hand motion for the blue block.

  “What you doin’, Miss Stanzy?”

  “It is called sign language. We use it to speak to the deaf. Surely you have met at least one deaf person?”

  “No.”

  “The hand movements take the place of words.”

  While she explained this to Bess, Meg reached up, grabbed Stanzy’s hand and shook it back and forth.

  Bess gasped. “She never touches no one. We have to hold her down to bath her and brush that mane of hair. And sometimes her fingernails get so long, they cut into her palm.”

  Constanza nodded to Bess, then turned back to Megan and repeated the signs and words together. Megan stared at her, but made no attempt to sign. Reaching down, Stanzy placed her hand over the girls when— Whack!

  How did she fool me into that?

  Pain like she’d seldom felt blazed above her eye and blackness threatened to suck her into it. From a distance she heard Bess yell. “Go get Lucian! Meg done her favorite trick on Miss Stanzy.”

  A lifting sensation came over her. Next, her hands and feet felt softness all about her—a swaddling feeling. Opening her eyes, she realized she was on Megan's bed. Dear Lucian stood watching her and she gave him a gentle smile. He sank down on the bed beside her, his dark eyes filled with concern. He held out his hand to touch her bruised forehead and winced as if he himself felt the pain.

  “What happened?”

  “Meg. She hit you with her head, square above your eye. I know this will sound crazy, but I do not think that Meg feels pain. She has bitten herself to bleeding before and never sheds a tear. Your eye looks awful.”

  Stanzy laughed. “Thank you!”

  His face appeared thoughtful for a moment, then smiled. “Constanza, you could never look awful to me. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met.”

  “Surely you are vexing me, Lucian.” She knew she wasn’t plain, but she was far from the beauty her sister was and she knew it. She’d learned her role in her family early—she was the smart one. Her eyes inadvertently dropped to her left hand, where her index finger was missing.