The Bride of Blackbeard

by Brynn Chapman

  They wanted to ride horses and swing from the rope in the barn into the hay, much more than learn French or writing. She understood this and tried to keep the lessons interesting for them, but today even her best efforts failed.

  “All right, boys, I think we will end a little early today.”

  Before she’d finished the sentence they were out the door, probably afraid she would reconsider. Smiling to herself, she shook her head.

  ~ * ~

  A post rider handed Lucian a package as he stood on the front pizzer of their cottage. She lifted up her skirts, showing her boots. Running toward him, he laughed out loud at her and shook his head. She was happy he found her unconventional behavior comical, and she believed him when he told her it was one of the reasons he loved her.

  “What is it?” she said breathlessly.

  “I don’t know. It is addressed to you, Miss Smythe.”

  “That is Mrs. Blackwell to you, sir.”

  She took the package and shook it. “Maybe my Uncle Ellwood forwarded me one of my books. Oh! I do hope as I miss them all so much.”

  She tore it open and froze.

  Lucian, rocking in one of the many chairs littering the porch, stopped. “What?”

  She didn’t reply. She extracted a necklace from the box and held it up for him to see. A diamond gemstone dangled at the end of it. As she held it, it swayed back and forth in the breeze.

  Inside, they sat facing one another at the table. Each one as cross as the other with the content of the letter, which now lay between them like a line drawn in the sand.

  “Miss Smythe,

  “I know you have told me you have married that farmer, but I refuse to accept this. Here is a token of my deep and abiding wish for you to consent to be my wife. I told ye before that I could attend to your financial needs in no uncertain terms. It is no feat to have more money than a sharecropper, one step above an indentured servant.

  “I beg you to reconsider. If you do not, please keep the necklace to remind you of me. When I see you wear it, I will know you are thinking of me when you look at him.

  “Yours,

  “Edward Teache”

  After reading it again, Lucian dropped it on the table. “Stanzy, darling, you cannot be serious.”

  “Do you know how much I could buy for Megan with this? I will sell it and use the money to help her.”

  “No. I do not feel right about it. Everything about him, including this trinket is…vile. No good will come from it.”

  She stared at him for a while. Stanzy didn’t believe it was jealousy on which he based this decision, but that he truly believed Teache wicked.

  “All right, I will find the address of his beloved Hammock House and send it back to him.”

  ~ * ~

  Katrina sat waiting on the window seat, staring out into the darkness. Edward was late, which she was accepting as the norm for him. The man more than made up for it with his gifts and exciting places he whisked her off to, removing her far away from the demands of being a governess.

  If she married him, she just knew a life of adventure awaited her...after all, he was forever traveling and surely he would take her occasionally on his merchant trips, so she could see the world he spoke to her about. Her image reflected back to her from the window and she admired her long curls. Her long-lashed eyes fell to the locket Edward had given her. It shone and glimmered whenever she was in the sunlight.

  Katrina contemplated the idea of giving herself to him, even though they were not yet wed. She smiled slightly, thinking of her sister's mortification, but she wanted to assure Edward's love, and so what if she did become pregnant? Well, then he would certainly have to stay with her, wouldn’t he? And she was sure he could afford a governess for the child, and then she would be free—free from the job she despised, and into a life of excitement!

  Yes. With his next advance, she wouldn’t protest as she had previously. The act would be her insurance policy. And deep down, the fact that Edward chose her over Stanzy, made the match all the more sweet.

  The clippety-clop of horses' hooves as the carriage passed through Hawthorne House gates awoke her from her reverie as Dear Edward approached. It was true, he wasn’t as young or as handsome as some of her other suitors, but in him she imagined security.

  ~ * ~

  The priest made his way into the apartment with a flourish, followed by two altar boys dragging incense tins on chains, swinging menacingly about behind them. Muttering incantations in Latin, he walked toward Megan who trembled uncontrollably at the sight of him. The tiny girl clung to Bess with all of her might.

  “Please, the smell of that will drive her wild, and the bell...please do not hit that bell...she cannot stand loud noises.”

  ~ * ~

  At her teacher’s desk, Stanzy examined the boys’ most recent writings and smiled. Their studies progressed well, and her chest filled with pride for each one of their accomplishments. Looking out the window, the sun was low in the sky. A lump formed in her throat as she realized Lucian hadn’t returned for her. He was never late.

  After a lifetime of hardship, her mind was suspicious of happiness. As if to say ‘you do not deserve it,’ or ‘it will not last.’

  You know you will never be truly happy. You are cursed. You do not need Edward Teache for that. Everything and everyone you touch will be doomed.

  She forced the thoughts back into her mind-box, and swallowed the bile rising to the back of her throat. “You are being ridiculous,” she chastised herself aloud.

  Walking to the window to view the main house, she saw shadows dancing violently in the window. It was Megan’s room.

  “Oh, no. What now? Can’t they just leave the child alone?” she said to the wind as she sprinted toward the mansion.

  Opening the servant’s door to Megan’s apartment, she was just in time to see Lucian’s fist connect with Hopkins’ chin. His thin body fell to the floor with a whump, and didn’t stir.

  The priest's expression was grim as he stooped and quickly started gathering his belongings.

  “I told you she is sick!” Lucian bellowed, an uncharacteristic savageness in his eyes and voice. His hands shook as if with palsy, as he strode over to Hopkins who was rousing on the floor. Hands pumping, he stood glaring down at Ian's stirring frame.

  “I will have you thrown in jail! You impetuous glorified farm hand!” shrieked Mrs. Hopkins, launching her tiny frame at Lucian. “I do not know why my ridiculous father favored you so!”

  Ian Hopkins gained his footing, balled his fist and blindsided Lucian who was holding Mrs. Hopkins at arm’s length. Lucian toppled backward, feet kicking out and upending a pot by the fire.

  Fists, blood and spit and every cuss ever uttered filled the air of the child’s apartment.

  “Stop it! Both of you! You are upsetting her even more!” yelled Stanzy from the floor, where she crawled her way around the fight to cradle the bawling girl in her arms.

  “Stop!” an unfamiliar voice called.

  Everyone in the room froze as all heads turned toward the fireplace hearth.

  “Stop, please,” said Megan in a voice no louder than a murmur this time. A tear cut its track down her dirty cheek.

  Stanzy burst into tears, and saw Bess was hiccupping sobs. Even Sarah's eyes shone with unshed tears. Ian Hopkins fell to his knees and cradled his head, but Lucian... Lucian just smiled. Even as the blood trickled from the side of his mouth, he made no move to wipe it. His face gleamed with the expression of a proud father.

  “There’s my girl. Don't you go away again,” he whispered.

  ~ Chapter Eight ~

  The baby wouldn’t stop crying. Stanzy lifted Will from his pram and held his tiny body close to her chest when she realized the child burned with fever.

  “Oh no, oh no,” she said, performing a balancing act of holding him on her shoulder and stoking the fire at the same time.

  He wailed in protest at the adjustment in her arms.

  “
Shh! Shh!” she consoled as teardrops dribbled to her cheeks. Cradling Will again, she pelted down the hall to her father's room, the familiar smell of stale spirits made her quiver with anger.

  “Father! Father, please wake up. It’s Will, he is sick. He is burning up.” She tried to rouse him with one hand. He didn’t stir.

  Her chest heaved and hiccupped out of control. Laying the baby at the foot of the bed, she shook her father with both hands. “Daddy! You good for nothing drunkard! The son you have always wanted is sick and he is going to die just like Mama if you do not help me!”

  Katrina entered the room and attached herself to Stanzy's leg, her bawling adding to the orchestra of pain.

  “Daddy, please,” Stanzy said without much hope now.

  Leaving the room, dragging her sister on her leg behind her, she tried to keep Will as covered as possible. All three cried in unison as they descended the steps to the kitchen.

  ~ * ~

  Constanza shakily sat up in bed, drenched in sweat.

  Lucian quickly wrapped his arms around her. He whispered sleepily, “It was another nightmare. You are safe with me now.”

  “No, I am not safe! I cannot rest any longer ‘til I see Katrina. I know she is in trouble. I have been fooling myself. That girl was born for trouble.”

  “All right, we will go to Beaufort on our way to Nags Head if you like, but we cannot go anywhere now, it is three in the morning and we can’t leave the boys.”

  Wordlessly, she got up and padded through the kitchen into the boys’ bedroom, where the gentle sound of snoring filled the air. Will was getting too old for her to sleep with, but she didn’t care. She had to feel they were safe in order to sleep at all. Crawling into his bed, she held him tight, as she’d done since his violent entrance to this world. Benjamin would be ribbing him for days over her coming into their room, but she didn’t give a whit.

  ~ * ~

  “Megan, look at me, not outside!” Stanzy turned the girl’s face with her hand, attempting to hold her attention.

  “Watch. M, O, T...” Stanzy’s fingers made the letters as she spoke. “You do.”

  The little girl sat stubbornly, arms folded across her chest.

  Megan signed, “Play.”

  “No...no play, until we do five letters.”

  Megan responded by squeezing her eyes tightly shut, shaking her head back and forth so rapidly Stanzy felt dizzy.

  Ropes were no longer required to restrain Megan. She sat during her lessons of her own volition. She did, however, rebel daily with the length of her lessons. The little trickster was as obstinate as her teacher.

  They had sat at odds, at times for two hours, while Stanzy insisted Megan finish two letters.

  Megan smiled at her for a moment, and then pointed to her ears and put her hand over her mouth—the sign for deaf and mute.

  “Oh, no, you are not deaf, and hardly mute as I endured your wailings when I first arrived at StoneWater—you tricky little sprite. We have to finish Megan. Please try.”

  Megan finally placed her fingers into the shape of an M, followed by the other two letters Stanzy had requested.

  Some days it seemed Megan had no control of her own body, and though she might wish to comply with a task asked of her, the girl simply couldn’t get her limbs to obey. This often led to full-blown temper tantrums, at other times to crying jags. Stanzy would hold her, and take Megan’s hands in her own to assist the child in making her own body move.

  Picking up a quill, she extended it out for Megan to take from her outstretched hand. Her face screwed up in a scrunch, her chest started heaving. Stanzy prepared for the howl. Megan detested writing of any kind as well as drawing.

  Constanza continued to offer the quill. Finally, Megan reached out, grabbed it, snapping it in half, again shaking her head wildly back and forth. Stanzy put her head on the tiny table and rocked it back and forth in imitation of Megan. Laughing out loud, Megan began to rock her head in time with Stanzy’s.

  Conceding defeat for the moment, Stanzy grabbed the girl under her armpits, and swung her around in circles in the center of the room. Megan squealed with delight. Stanzy had discovered that if she gave Megan some physical movement prior to trying a school task, her performance and attention increased threefold.

  “Now sit!”

  The girl laughed and signed, “Eat.”

  “No! Stop it! You are as bad as the boys!”

  She held up drawings Lucas and Ben had sketched one evening for her to use while teaching Megan. Both boys were beautiful artists, whereas Stanzy couldn’t even draw a circle properly.

  Holding up the picture, she said, “What is it?”

  Meg hid her face in her hands, one eye peeking out between her fingers.

  Stanzy waited quietly, refusing to move an inch.

  “Tree.”

  “Yes! It is a tree!”

  She held up another card.

  “Dog.”

  “Yea!” Stanzy said, smiling in approval.

  Bess came into the room from the stairwell. Megan shot up from the table, sprinted to the center and twirled in circles around the room. Then she proceeded to run circles around Bess.

  “Bess!” Megan shouted.

  “Ahh! You little—”

  “Now, Bess,” said Stanzy. “You do not want Meg to hear any words that you would not want her to repeat!”

  ~ * ~

  “Don’t you think it odd, I am being summoned for this birth?”

  Lucian sat beside her, stoic and silent as usual, but somehow his warmth always shone through the quiet. He could convey more meaning in one silent look than many of the charmers she’d met in her day, with all of their flowery sonnets and lofty promises.

  “Yes, but I am sure they are reputable if Ian requests it.”

  Acquaintances of Hopkins were set to deliver their first child. Their regular surgeon was out of town, and he requested Stanzy attend the birth. Despite the late hour, Constanza offered her assistance. Lucian was now complaining about this unnecessary detour on their journey to Nags Head, but she assured him the birth would only detain them, at most, one day.

  The wagon rumbled to a stop in front of the designated address. Lucian turned to her. “If you do not mind, I will wait for you here. Should you need anything, just send for me and I will come in straightaway. I have only been witness to one birth, and have to admit it is not an easy thing for me to watch...”

  “You know full well most gentlemen are not welcome in the birthing room. Not even the husband! So I am proud of you that you saw Benjamin’s birth.”

  Lucian swallowed hard. “Yes, well, as I said, I felt completely helpless. There is no worse situation for me, where I must bear witness to an act of pain, and I am rendered useless.”

  ~ * ~

  The air was so still it felt thick.

  It is so quiet. Too quiet.

  Either the child or the mother has died. It feels like a tomb.

  A crooked man stepped into the vestibule. His lips split into a toothless grin. Ominous looking in his tattered shirt and filthy breeches, she debated calling for Lucian, but quickly set the thought aside when a cry of obvious pain sounded from the adjoining room.

  “She is in here, Miss.”

  Constanza nodded and followed the man into the room. Almost spent, the woman winced in pain, despite being unconscious. Splayed out on the bed, the woman's spread legs revealed the gravity of the situation. The baby’s head, crowning out the canal, threatened to suffocate the child, as the poor soul was fully dilated. A black tuft of hair was visible.

  “How long has she been like this?”

  “I reckon about a quarter hour. About a day in since her water broke.”

  “Are you a...relative?” she stammered.

  “Um...no. A friend of the family.”

  “Where is the father?”

  “There is no father. This child is illegitimate.”

  “Illegitimate or no, she did not impregnate herself! Where and
whom is the father?”

  “I would not be knowin’ that, mum. Perhaps you can ask Delia...if she makes it that is.” Toothless grinned maliciously.

  She turned to call for Lucian when the woman revived, eyes wide, screaming out in pain.

  “Oh please, please, mum. Help me. Help me save the baby, it will not come out!”

  To her relief, the decrepit toothless wonder clicked the door shut. Stanzy placed her hands on either side of the infant’s head, and with each undulating contraction gently inched the child along the birth canal. The woman’s pelvis was inordinately small, and if she survived the birth of this child, Stanzy would advise her against trying to have any more children. She wasn’t anatomically built for bearing children.

  The baby reluctantly slid into the world in a rush of fluid and blood, drenching Stanzy’s dress and boots. The infant lay still and quiet in her hands. Constanza turned him onto his stomach and smacked him square between the shoulder blades. Reaching inside his mouth, she swiped away the mucous. His tiny frame sputtered and coughed, finally renting the air with a loud wail.

  She looked up to congratulate the mother, but the poor wretch was unconscious once again. Constanza turned the child over to examine him more fully, and what she saw made her blood run cold. The child’s fingers, very long and pointed looked eerily familiar. Its fingernails were longer than normal as well. She shook the befuddlement away.

  “It is a minor birth defect, nothing more,” she said to what she thought was an empty room, “No worse than what is on my own hand.”

  “It is a changeling baby, I am sure of it,” said the sans tooth harbinger. “We have been waiting for him to arrive!”

  “Lucian!”

  ~ * ~

  As they continued on to Nags Head in silence, Stanzy jumped when Lucian spoke loudly. “I am going to murder Hopkins for putting you in that dangerous situation. There is no way that woman was a business acquaintance of his. I am so sorry I did not go in with you!”

  “It is all right, Lucian. I am alive, the baby is alive, and so is the mother. Although I am quite sure I do not wish to exchange places with her. No father, a disfigured child, and some sort of superstitious sailor as your chambermaid.”