The Ransom: Legacy of the King's Pirates

by Marylu Tyndall

  Stomach convulsing, Juliana sat on the bed beside him and slipped her hand into his limp, fevered one and bowed her head. Please God. Heal him. Deliver him from this affliction. As much as she enjoyed her independence and not being castigated by the man at every turn, she wanted no harm to come to him. He was her father, and she loved him. Besides, the sooner he took back control of the business, the better for them all. “Please Lord. I’ll do anything you ask. I’ll give more money to the poor, spend more time with the orphans, find a way to help Abilene. Just please heal my father.”

  In answer, the man coughed—a ragged sound that scraped across Juliana’s heart. He opened one eye and peered at her with disinterest as if he were dreaming. Then fire stormed across his face. “Come to finish me off, Daughter?” he rasped out.

  “Don’t be silly, Father. I’ve come to check on you and to appeal to the Almighty for your health.”

  He jerked his hand from hers and coughed again. Blood spilled from his lips. Gathering a cloth, Juliana attempted to wipe it, but he pushed her away. “’Tis the Almighty who cursed me with a flighty wife, a wastrel son, and a greedy daughter. Now he’s stealing my life from me.” A coughing fit ensued as he appeared to struggle for each breath.

  Miss Ellie jerked awake and darted to his side, her sleepy eyes meeting Juliana’s.

  “Don’t be silly, Father. God doesn’t make people sick. He makes people well. And you will get well, you’ll see.”

  Ellie took the rag from Juliana and wiped his mouth. “There, there. Miss Juliana is right. You will be up on your feet in no time.”

  His listless eyes found the lady’s maid and remained upon her as if she were a nest and he a bird returning from a long flight. A tiny smile peeked from the corner of his lips as Ellie proceeded to wash out the cloth and dab it over his forehead and cheeks.

  “You’re the only one who cares about me,” he mumbled.

  “Now, you know that’s not true, Mr. Dutton. Juliana is ’ere to check on you. She loves you.”

  One glance toward Juliana and he started coughing again, this time violently, spewing phlegm and accusations that she was stealing his business and poisoning him.

  Finally unable to bear the heartache, Juliana rose, deciding her presence did more harm than good.

  “I’m sorry, miss. He’s been delirious with fever all day. I don’t know why ’e’d say sich things.”

  “It’s all right, Ellie. He’s never had a fondness for me. Please let me know if there is any change.”

  “Shall I come up for your morning toilet?”

  “Nay, stay with him Ellie. I can manage for now.”

  Taking the candle, she made her way down the stairs to her father’s study, where she hoped to get some work done before the sun rose. An unusual chill slithered around her. She glanced over the dark foyer as a strong sense of foreboding weighed the air.

  The front door flew open and in walked Rowan, or rather, in stumbled Rowan in a brandy-drenched haze.

  “Ah, sisssster dear.” He held his arms wide for an embrace.

  She stepped aside in disgust. His arms struck air, and he spun around. “I didn’t ’xpect you to be up at … at …” He fumbled to draw a pocket watch from his coat.

  “’Tis three in the morning, Rowan,” Juliana huffed in frustration. “And I thought you’d learned your lesson about gambling.”

  “Gambling, pshaw!” Grabbing the lapels of his jerkin, he attempted to adjust them but nearly fell over. “’Tis invessssting, says I, do you take me?”

  Juliana closed the door before the neighbors saw her brother’s disgusting display.

  “I was meeting a friend, if you please.” He spoke into the darkness, then whirled to find her behind him. He winked. “A friend of yours, dear sister.” Brandy fumes enveloped her, stinging her nose and eyes.

  “We shall discuss this in the morning. Let’s get you to bed.” Easing her shoulder beneath his arm, she held his waist and dragged him toward the stairs.

  He raised a finger in the air. “Captain William Nichols.”

  She knew she shouldn’t speak to her brother in his condition, but that name ignited a fire of angst within her. She spun him around. “Rowan, you are not to associate with that man! He is not my friend. He is not your friend. And I do not want him in this house, do you understand?”

  His glassy eyes flew over her face as if seeking a place to land. “Humph. He’s my friend, and I’ll see him when I want.” He adjusted his skewed brown periwig, his eyes pointing upward as if searching for the hairpiece. “Infernal thing.” He tore it from his head.

  “Please, Rowan. I beg you. Keep your distance from Nichols. For me?”

  “I cannot, sissster. We are in business together. A very lucrative business for me, I might add.” He patted his pocket, where a jingling sound emerged.

  Anger followed by fear stormed through her. “He’s a Post-Captain in his Majesty’s navy. What business could you possibly have with him?”

  Grabbing the banister, Rowan sank to the bottom step. “Are we having another earthquake?”

  Juliana ignored him and began tugging on his arm, but he was too heavy.

  “He’s paying me to gamble, so you no longer need give me an allowance.” He leaned back, elbows splayed on the tread above him, and closed his eyes. “I will win enough to help our family. Soon, sissster, soon. You’ll see.”

  “Paying you?” Juliana hoped she’d heard him wrong. “What does he get in return?”

  “Nothing to concern yourself wi—”

  Snoring replaced words, and Juliana slumped down to the stairs beside him as a feeling of dread sent a chill through every bone.

  ♥♥♥

  A sweet, melancholy sound lured Alex from his sleep. He jerked his head from the tree trunk and gazed up at the light trickling down from the second-story window he knew to be Juliana’s. It had been a long week since he’d seen her. His many invitations for her to join him at various society functions had been met with excuses of illness or exhaustion or business she must attend. Posh! Excuses all!

  After a miserable evening at Sir Cramwell’s ball, Alex had dressed in his pirate garb and taken to the streets. But none of his favorite haunts enticed him, so he’d ended up in front of Juliana’s house, as he so often had on his loneliest nights. Perched in the tree’s shadow, he sat and watched, saw her besotted brother stumble home, then caught a glimpse of her through the front door, her long golden waves tumbling over her white robe like a sunlit waterfall on snowy cliffs. And his heart had leapt into his throat. But then she’d slammed the door on the angelic vision, and the house grew dark.

  Still, he could not bring himself to leave. So he’d sat and watched, finally falling asleep. Now, the sound of her violin pierced the night. Such a mournful tune! As if she poured every fear, every unfulfilled hope, every misery into the strings of the instrument. What could make such a privileged lady so sad? She had a home, a family who loved her, friends, and every luxury one could desire. Surely it wasn’t her concern for her friend, Abilene, or her sponging idler brother. Minor problems both.

  Yet Alex could not forget the look of utter despair on her face as she’d watched the sun set, declaring her hope that tomorrow would bring a better day. Something troubled her. He must discover what it was and do all he could to ease her burden, to make all her problems go away.

  Chapter 18

  A tidal wave of bobbing heads crashed over Juliana the minute she entered the orphanage. Setting down her valise, she opened her arms and tried to absorb as many of the little urchins she could, savoring their sweet kisses.

  “Now, children.” Eunice’s voice resounded over the excited clamor, “You be smotherin’ poor Miss Juliana. Back away. Back away wit’ you.” Pushing through the mob, she nudged them away before turning to greet Juliana with a huge grin and a clasp of her hands.

  “Did you bring us sweets?” one little boy asked.

  “’Ow about some new clothes, miss?” Emilie smiled and tugged
on Juliana’s skirts. “My dress is stained, see?” She held out her blue skirts to reveal a smudge. Yet neither the stain nor her bedraggled garb detracted from the girl’s angelic face. Dark lustrous skin and a bouquet of curly black hair adorned the young mulatto, who’d wandered into the church at age five looking more like a skeleton than a girl.

  “Not this time, darling.” Juliana suddenly wished she had brought new clothing, though the girl’s smile didn’t fade.

  “Ain’t it nice to jist have Miss Juliana’s company?” Eunice planted fists on her rounded waist and scanned the children with her scolding gaze. “Does she always have to bring you’s somethin’?”

  A chorus of “nays” rang through the room.

  “But I did bring something.” Juliana glanced over the darling faces with a smile. “I brought new sheets for your cots”—she turned to Eunice—“and I brought Miss Eunice and Isaac some cooking pans.”

  “Why, thank you, Miss Juliana.” Isaac entered, wiping his hands on a rag, his lanky frame reminding her of a weathered ship’s mast.

  “Has Eunice been withholding your meals, Isaac?” Juliana smiled. “You’re naught but skin and bones.”

  “She feeds me plenty, Miss Juliana.” He winked at his wife, then cast a stern look over the children. “’Tis these ravenous children who eat all the food.”

  Some of the little ones giggled.

  “’Tis a good thing, then, that I brought some salt pork, flour, sugar, and”—cupping a hand beside her mouth, Juliana leaned toward Eunice and whispered loud enough for the children to hear—“ground cocoa beans.”

  A sea of cheers enveloped her. “Cocoa! Cocoa!”

  “Will you make a chocolate cake, Mrs. Eunice?” One of the older girls laid her head on folded palms and gave the mistress a pleading look.

  Eunice smiled. “O’ course, child. Now, come on in, Miss Juliana.” Taking her hand, Eunice led her forward while Isaac attempted to corral the children. Juliana’s foot struck something, and she stumbled. Fearing she’d stepped on a child, she turned around to see a pail filled with sloshing water.

  “Apologies, miss.” Eunice gave a slanted smile.

  Juliana chuckled. “I see your battle with Lucas is ongoing.”

  “An’ he be winnin’ it too.” Eunice gestured toward the buckets framing the room and the blankets stacked upon shelves above them.

  “Poor child has been through so much,” Isaac added. “If this is what keeps him calm, so be it.”

  Nodding, Juliana opened her valise and unloaded the sheets, pans, and food onto a table.

  Eunice wrapped an arm around her and drew her close. “Thank you, Miss Juliana. You are yer mother’s spittin’ image, both inside and out. The good Lord done blessed us doubly today! We jist got money from our secret benefactor, too.”

  “Mr. A was here?”

  “Nay, jist a messenger is what he says. Quiet man. Drops off the pouch wit’ the same note and then leaves with ne’er a word.”

  “And his appearance?” Even if the man was merely a servant, mayhap Juliana would recognize him from one of society’s functions. If so, she could place his master and finally be able to thank this Mr. A for his generosity.

  Eunice’s lips drew into a line as she thought. “Tall, sturdy, light hair wit’ a bit o’ red. Oh, an’ he had spectacles in his pocket. You don’t see those much in Port Royal. I tell you. An’ he smelled o’ the sea, that one. Must work down by the docks.”

  Disappointment drew a sigh from Juliana’s lips. She could recall no one by that description. “You don’t think this Mr. A could be the preacher who left the orphans in the first place?” she asked, feeling her blood boil at the mere mention of the man.

  “Dunno.” Eunice shrugged. “That man called hisself Mr. Edward not Mr. A. ’Sides, don’t make no sense to leave ’em an’ then provide for ’em.”

  “Mayhap not. But he should be loath to ever cross paths with me. ’Tis a bullet in the gut he’ll get! Or worse.”

  “Ouch, listen t’ you now.” Eunice chuckled. “You know the good Lord ’xpects us t’ forgive.”

  Which is mayhap why God’s favor shone not on Juliana. She didn’t have time to ponder that revelation for something dropped onto her shoulder. Something smelly with sharp claws! A rat? Nay, that pesky monkey! Bending over, she screamed and tried to shove it off. An uproar of laughter filled the room as Eunice shouted for Isaac while she chased the hysterical Juliana around the room. “Juliana—stop, child so’s I can get that little beastie offa you!”

  The little beastie scrambled across Juliana’s back and then it was gone. She shuddered, placed a hand on her heaving chest, and backed away. The impish monkey grinned at her from Eunice’s arms.

  Restraining a smile, Isaac relieved his wife of the beast. “Bad, bad monkey,” he scolded as he left the room.

  “I’m so sorry, miss.” Eunice laid a hand on Juliana’s arm.

  A tiny giggle escaped Juliana’s lips, followed by another and another, until everyone in the room barreled over in laughter. “I had forgotten all about the creature. And about getting Mr. Pell to capture him. Forgive me.”

  “Think nothin’ o’ it, miss. I do believe he likes you. He’s ne’er jumped on anyone like that before.”

  Wonderful. She’d add that to her list of absurd admirers: an obsessed Navy captain, a pompous buffoon, a nefarious pirate—and now an impish monkey.

  “Now, get on outside, children,” Eunice ushered the crowd toward the back door leading onto the garden. “Miss Juliana will read you a story in a minute. I needs t’ speak wit’ her.”

  All of them moped away, except little Rose, who clutched Juliana’s skirts as if they were a lifeline. Juliana swept her up in her arms, and the girl laid her head on Juliana’s shoulders and stuck her thumb in her mouth.

  Eunice hesitated at the sight, then uttered a sigh and led Juliana into the adjacent room. “It’s Michael.” She gestured toward the corner, where a young boy lay curled on a cot. Releasing Rose to Eunice’s arms, Juliana sat on the stool beside the lad and wiped sweaty stands of hair from his face. Heated skin seared her fingertips. The seven-year-old didn’t move. She remembered the day he’d come to the orphanage a year ago, a stowaway on a ship from Saint Dominique. What had happened to him on that island was anyone’s guess. But Juliana knew one thing. It hadn’t been good. The only English word he knew at the time was “die.” At least he had added a few, more cheerful, terms to his vocabulary since then.

  “What ails him?”

  Eunice shook her head. “Bin like that fer two days. He can’t keep nothin’ in his stomach, neither. Called on Doc Blane, but he says it’s naught but a seasonal ailment. Barely looked at him afore he scampered outta here.”

  “Michael is sick,” Rose’s tiny voice chimed in, drawing Juliana’s gaze.

  “Yes, he is, but he will get well again. You must allow him his rest and pray for him. Will you do that, Rose?”

  Nodding, she stuck her thumb back in her mouth.

  “I’ll ask Dr. Verns to come.” Juliana attempted to keep her tone light. Such a high fever rarely accompanied a minor illness. And the vomiting gave her pause. “In the meantime, you know what to do.”

  “Keep him cool, get water down him, an’ make sure he gits his rest.”

  “Yes, and keep the other children away from him as much as you can.” A chill wrapped around Juliana’s heart. Her mother had caught a disease from children and died soon after. “I’ll bring some Fever Grass root the next time I come. Doctor Verns has been using it on Father’s fever.”

  “I didn’t know your father be ill, miss. I’m sorry.”

  “He’s not. He was … ’tis nothing, really.” Juliana caught herself before she continued stuttering like a fool. Not that Eunice would say anything to anyone, but the fewer people who knew her father was sick, the better.

  She rose, feeling the boy’s illness add to the burden already pressing on her shoulders. Then, suddenly, the ground rolled like a wave at
sea. She grabbed hold of Eunice and Rose as the three of them tumbled to the side. Dust showered over them from the rafters. One of the children in the other room started crying. Then all was still again.

  Handing an unusually calm Rose to Juliana, Eunice dashed from the room, no doubt to check on the children, shouting, “Jist another tremor.”

  Juliana could handle a little ground shaking. What she couldn’t handle was the upheaval of her life.

  Two hours later, she had barely entered the door of her home when Mr. Abbot burst into the foyer with Mr. John Kinder in tow. Thankfully, Juliana had not yet gone to her father’s study or she’d never be able to explain to one of the top merchants in Port Royal why she was tending the business in her father’s stead.

  She hurriedly put on her best smile while casting Abbot a look of dismay. “Welcome, Mr. Kinder. To what do we owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?”

  Behind Mr. Kinder, the butler shrugged and shook his head as if to say he had no choice in bringing the merchant home.

  “Always a pleasure to see you, Miss Juliana.” Doffing his castor, Mr. Kinder reached out and planted a kiss on her hand. “I’ve come to see your father on a business matter.”

  “You are far too kind, Mr. Kinder. However, I fear you have come here for naught. Father is not home presently.”

  “As I tried to inform him.” Mr. Abbot took the man’s hat.

  “Most curious. Where else would he be? I never see him down at the docks. Indeed, I miss our chats at Bennets over coffee.”

  “As he misses yours, I am sure.” Juliana smiled sweetly. “But as you can see, he has appointed Mr. Abbot his manager of affairs in order to allow himself more time at leisure.”

  “Leisure!” The man chortled. “Egad! Astounding. I never thought to see the day. Why, your father works harder than any man I’ve known.”

  A raspy hack bled down from above, drawing Mr. Kinder’s gaze.

  “If you inform me of your business concerns”—Juliana heightened her voice to cover up any further coughing—“I’ll relay them to Father when he returns.”