The Bride of Blackbeard

by Brynn Chapman

  They would come for her.

  They loved her.

  They would fight for her.

  They would never forget about her.

  ~ * ~

  Unable to help herself, Stanzy continued to cry. The tears poured from her eyes as if they would never cease. This was just too much to bear. The thought of what they might be doing to Megan, her wonderful, silent, little girl.

  Lucian remained quiet and stared ahead, knowing no words of comfort would calm her. Thankfully, she appreciated that he didn’t offer empty platitudes. He was as distraught as she. His knuckles blanched with the force he exerted in holding the reins as the carriage bumped along the windy road. A muscle jutted in his jaw as he gritted his teeth, his lips pressed into a firm straight line.

  “We should have just ridden the horses, it would have been faster. This is taking too long!”

  “What about when we get her back? You know she won’t be able to ride in back of one of us the whole way to StoneWater. The carriage is the only way. Keep your wits. I need you to convince those doctors to release her to us.” His hand found hers and squeezed gently.

  Calm had settled over his face as she considered him. It quelled her own fears, and she sucked in deep breaths, wrestling to regain her sense of reasoning.

  “What if I can’t talk them into anything?”

  Lucian said nothing, but his hand involuntarily slipped to the pistol strapped to his side.

  Constanza shifted in her seat, attempting to alleviate the pain in her bottom. They urged the horses nonstop through the night. Lucian's head bobbed for the third time in an hour and she elbowed his ribs to rouse him.

  “Lucian, rest in the back of the carriage for a while. I have the map and can follow where we are going.”

  “All right. You are going to have to do the same, or your wits will be as dull as mine by the time we arrive at ‘The Blackhouse.’” He handed Stanzy the reins and climbed into the rear.

  “The Blackhouse?”

  “That is what Megan calls it. I never knew what she was talking about until a few weeks ago. When we were outside she was having a particularly good day and said, ‘No Blackhouse, Pa.’ This place was what she meant.”

  His head dropped to the wagon floor and he closed his eyes.

  Stanzy gazed at the gun on his hip and wished fervently for one.

  ~ * ~

  The high-pitched sounds flying from Megan’s throat weren’t human. Her yowling resembled the eerie scream of baby rabbits, anticipating their death.

  “Can't you inject her with something? That voice is splitting my ears. Maybe doctor is correct, she sounds like an animal.”

  Two men grabbed her arms and two women her feet as they pinned her, spread-out to the bed. Fingers clamped her nose shut. She held her breath as long as she could. Feeling the blackness approaching, she opened her mouth and the rancid taste of the tartar mixture overwhelmed her. She sputtered and gagged, half of the vile drink rising up her throat, the rest bubbling out her nose.

  The nasty stuff worked almost immediately. Violently gagging and retching, she dowsed her shift with the remainder of her lunch. Between the gagging and vomiting, the hateful tears came, besetting her chest with painful hiccups. The teardrops spilled over and down her cheeks; she willed her eyes to dry. To end it all, forever—so that this pain called living would stop.

  The nurse standing by made eye contact with her. “This is the first time she has ever looked me in the eye.”

  Megan sat up on the bed, knotting the sheets in her balled fists. She knew her face was twisted and she raged, “I want to go home!”

  The staff stood, struck dumb. The four adults gaped at her first with curiosity then amazement. One by one, joining the chorus of sound, they all applauded.

  ~ * ~

  Abernathy followed Teache to the edge of town, to a home the rogue had never visited since he’d had him under observation.

  This was disconcerting. Of late, he felt Teache was concocting a plan, the intention of which Abe had been unable to decipher. Each time he felt he had figured out his subject’s dealings, the man would add a new person or situation to perplex him. If he didn’t know better, he would think Teache was doing it intentionally.

  The female who opened the door was of the second set of Teache's women friends. The first set consisted of the unrefined and poor, in whom he would have only specific interests. The second was seemingly well-to-do ladies, whom he had somehow convinced he was a charming merchant seaman.

  This woman was beautiful with dark, thick hair piled high atop her head, and her clothing the latest style and trend. Her home, too, was on the good side of town.

  Abernathy decided to sit in the pub across the street to wait this one out. He had the feeling it was going to be a long one.

  ~ * ~

  “Stanzy. Wake up.”

  Nightfall approached as the carriage rattled its way up the lane to the asylum.

  Orderlies standing at the entrance eyed them warily as they made their way through the entrance hall. “May we help you?”

  “I am here on behalf of StoneWater Estate to collect one Megan Hopkins from your facility to escort her home. Here is the corresponding paperwork.” Lucian handed the document to the fellow whose skin was impersonating a ghost, suggesting he hadn’t seen daylight in many a fortnight.

  “Well, there is nothing we can do for you tonight. The doctors have all retired, so you will have to return in the morning.”

  “We will not wait another night!” Stanzy spat out, emphasizing each word. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Lucian’s hand stray to rake over his face, but she just could not stop. “Megan will not spend another night here! You tell whatever doctor necessary that he needs to see us now.”

  “Mum, be reasonable...” But he was cut short by the sound of screaming from a nearby treatment room.

  “That is her. I would know her voice anywhere.” She darted in the direction of the noise coming down the hallway.

  One orderly snatched at her sleeve, thinking her an eloping patient. Stanzy ducked out of his reach and fell to her knees, crawling past him like a scuttling crab. She pushed open the door as soon as she reached it and shuddered at the sight in front of her.

  Megan was blue. In a submersion bath filled with bobbing ice cubes. On her tiny arms were the dreaded leeches Stanzy had already removed from her one time this month.

  The child’s eyes stared vacantly.

  “Megan!” she shrieked. “Look at me, poppet!”

  “Mama! Please—home—now—no more!” she wailed piteously. Her hands feebly attempted to sign the words she spoke, but plopped into the cold bath.

  Lucian pushed into the room just as Constanza stomped over to the bath, plunged her arms in shoulder high and lifted the shaking child from the water.

  The staff stood half stunned and gape mouthed. Looks of fear covered their faces.

  Clutching Megan's dripping form to her chest, she challenged the stares of each person. “Yes, you better be scared. Your kind will not touch her again. Never again! This is not treatment, this is madness.” She strode out the door.

  Lucian fell in beside her, matching her stride. She noticed his hand on his holstered pistol, and hoped he wouldn’t have to use it.

  In the carriage, Constanza pulled Megan’s wet clothing from her little form, dressed her in clean clothes Bess had supplied before they left, and wrapped her in a blanket Lucian pulled from the back. She cradled her in her arms as the carriage rattled its way along the road.

  The girl hadn’t stopped shaking since Constanza had removed her from the submersion tank, but her fingertips were no longer blue. Nor had Megan spoken. Stanzy felt the tears stinging her eyes, but fiercely blinked them away. She must be strong for Megan. She tried to wrap her whole body around the little girl to restore the warmth that horrendous place had sucked from her.

  If she and Lucian didn’t fight for this little soul, who would? Deep in her heart, she now knew
she would never leave StoneWater—not without Megan.

  Lucian hadn’t spoken since the heated discussion with the doctors about Megan’s untimely discharge. She recognized the controlled rage in his posturing, and the set look on his face as he steered the team through the night.

  She chanced a glance at him. His posture didn’t change, but he placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze.

  Reliability.

  An unknown concept to Stanzy. From her earliest memories, she’d learned she could rely on no one but herself. Her mother’s care had been loving, but it also had tended to revolve around her father’s moods and fits of alcoholic rage.

  She tried to block out the recollections, but when she was weak or exhausted, they resurfaced, like unwanted recurring nightmares. Always they scratched behind the door in her head. Subdued, but never forgotten.

  Her soul ached for unwavering devotion, and Lucian had given it to her. Someone she could depend on to help shoulder the weight of the world, and he actually cared about her thoughts and feelings.

  I never thought a man existed who cared for a woman’s ideas. Or pain.

  Over the years, she’d endeavored to foster in Katrina and Will the sense that they were safe as long as she protected them. She never wanted them to experience the panic she’d felt when she awoke in the mornings—fearful of how their father would act or if she would have to bear the burden of responsibility and intervene in a botched medical procedure.

  She looked at Lucian and said a silent prayer of thanks to God for providing her someone after all of her years of suffering.

  “We need to stop at this inn, Constanza. Megan is going to be ill without doubt. It is too cold out here for her, and you are both trembling.”

  ~ * ~

  Abernathy sat at the bar, watching Teache out of the corner of his eye.

  The evening crowd was rowdy and the noise in the pub had reached new heights. This itinerant life was starting to wear on him. He longed to see his family and sleep in his own bed. The daily assignment of having to watch Teache smuggle, fornicate, and engage in drunken brawls had finally taken its toll. He’d spent so much time in pubs, he wasn’t sure if once home, he could ever enter one again.

  If he’d been permitted to intervene and not just observe, then perhaps this assignment would have been tolerable.

  He longed to have a go at the demon. The man hadn’t manifested one redeeming quality to date—not one act of uncharacteristic kindness, no chivalry when no one was looking—nothing to hint there might be a human on the inside of this fellow.

  Teache seemed exceedingly pleased with himself about something this evening to be sure. That portended nothing good. Abernathy’s job was to figure out what that something might be, especially if it pertained to the whereabouts of smuggled items that Governor Spottswood would consider significant.

  What the devil was he doing? Abe Hornigold shifted slightly on the barstool to make himself partially obscured by the patron in front of him. Smoke and whiskey permeated the air of the pub, and with the dim light provided by a few lit candles, Abe thought Teache would be hard-pressed to see him even if he had a mind to.

  Teache sat staring intently at a dingy seaman seated across from him. His tattooed fist shook vigorously in front of the man's face. The man shrugged, held out his hand and produced...

  Perched on the edge of his seat, Abe was ready for a knife, a pistol, gold...but a book?

  I must get closer. He picked up his mug and strategically slid behind other patrons until he reached an open table and took a seat, entirely too close to the pirate for comfort. But he needed this assignment to be finished and to do that he needed to see what piece of literature was so compelling that it captured the attention of the infamous pirate.

  Teache opened the book with the spine toward Abe, who squinted and peered, cocking his head every which way. Still, he was unable to discern a title.

  Again picking up his mug, he walked directly toward Teache. Indeed he had learned typically it was easier to be invisible when you were out in the open for all to see, rather than skulking about.

  He passed behind Teache unnoticed and completed his turn at the bar.

  His fellow patron on the neighboring stool enquired, “You ill?”

  “What? No...why do you ask?”

  “You look like you seen a ghost!”

  “No, no ghost, just...fairies.”

  “Well, fairies, then. Ye be careful...they be more troublesome than ghosts!”

  Abe shook his head, what in the world could Teache want with a book about fairies? As he downed his umpteenth glass of ale at the bar, he figured he had suffered enough. He blew into the whistle baked into the mug to get the barkeep’s attention.

  “Oi, Jim. Let us square up.”

  ~ * ~

  It was midmorning when they arrived at the circular path that arched in front of StoneWater leading to the rambling front porch.

  “Home,” said Megan, the first word she’d spoken since her retrieval from the tank.

  When Constanza saw the direction in which Megan was pointing, her heart swelled with an odd combination of pride, anxiety and hope all at once. She was pointing at their cottage, not the manor.

  Lucian looked down at her, his brown eyes softening for the first time since last night. “Yes, Meg. Home.”

  Hopkins was on the porch ready to meet them. Absent was his jaunty step and flashy clothes. Constanza actually felt sorry for him.

  He is in the middle with nowhere to go. He has no idea what to do with Megan, but I’m certain he wants the best for her. He is the intermediary between his wicked, self-centered wife and his disabled child.

  There was no confusion in Constanza’s mind as to Sarah Hopkins’ wishes. She wished her child had never been born, and her way of coping was to put her out of her sight, preferably miles away, under the guise of expensive housing and treatment, when what Megan really needed was love. Something the rich Hopkinses would never be able to give her.

  “Lucian, I need a word in my study. Constanza, take Megan up to her apartment.”

  And that was it. No hug, no emotion. Megan was property.

  ~ * ~

  After Constanza left with Megan, Lucian readied himself with a huge breath in front of Ian's colossal desk in the study, preparing to receive a browbeating.

  Hopkins paced back and forth behind his desk. He started to speak several times, but then would abruptly stop, muttering incoherently.

  “Ian, out with it. Just tell me.”

  “Lucian, I know you care for Megan, and you seem to have been able to draw her out in a way I have not, but I do not know...” He shook his head, then ran his hand over his stubbled face. “If she continues to be...different...I do not know how much longer I can put Sarah off from sending her to, at the very least, a special boarding school.”

  “I anticipated this day would eventually come. Why don’t you give her to me and Constanza to raise? You know in your heart we can do a far better job of it than any boarding school, no matter how special. Give her a chance at a normal life, Ian. We already have helped her to speak.”

  Hopkins hung his head. “I don’t know, Lucian. That is a huge consideration.”

  “I know it is, and I do not expect an answer today or even next fortnight, but consider it. We want no payment for her either.”

  “I would not think of burdening you without compensation...”

  Lucian narrowed his eyes and peered at Ian across the table. “She is not a burden. We want her. We do not want your money.”

  “There is another matter.” Ian averted his eyes. “There has been an incident...a woman arrived last night asking for you...a very beautiful foreign woman. She is upstairs in one of our guest lodgings. I knew not what else to do with her ‘til you arrived.”

  “What?” Lucian stood to go. When his hand reached for the doorknob, Ian quickly came up behind him and grabbed his elbow to turn him around.

  “She is probably sev
en months pregnant, and she says it is yours.”

  Lucian’s legs wobbled and felt weaker with each step toward facing yet another fiasco. He entered the foyer proper, searching for his supposed impregnated lover. He was a victim of someone's impossible, cruel game, but would Constanza believe him?

  He didn’t need to ponder it long for Constanza stood at the bottom of the stairwell, quivering as she stared at the dark, exotic woman who, despite being infinitely round, was—at face value—eminently more beautiful than her.

  At the sight of him, Stanzy screamed in his face, “You liar!” She launched herself at him, poking him hard in the chest. “I believed every word you said to me. I was so stupid. I should have known it could not be real.”

  “Oh please, I swear, I have never seen this woman before!” Lucian pleaded, his eyes darting frantically to the woman’s gargantuan middle. “Constanza, I do not know her and it is not mine!”

  “Ow could you say zat, Lucian? After all ve ‘ave been thru togedder? You promised you vould take care of me and ze child. I cannot help it if you decided to marry anozer!”

  “Leave! Leave now! We do not need you. I will care for Megan and Will and even Ben if you want me to. Just get out of my sight, and take her with you!”

  “All right, I will go. If a stranger’s word is all it takes to make you doubt my love for you, then maybe our love is not what I thought it was. I will be back for Ben.”

  The slam of the manor door was so violent, a piece splintered off and fell to the floor.

  ~ Chapter Twelve ~

  Abernathy again sat, watching. If he never had to track anything or anyone again, it would be too soon. He feared he would never be able to stomach bird watching, once a favorite activity, as it would feel too much like this despicable situation he found himself in.

  I am a voyeur. Brilliant occupation.

  Teache sat on his front porch at Hammock House, slitting open the post that had just arrived. His dark face was somber for a moment, then lit up like one of the lighted hemp ropes he so frequently wound into his mangy beard.