The Captain

by Lynn Collum

  The captain reach out and tweaked a blade of grass from her unruly curls. “If you like I shall have Clark trim your hair, as well. If your mane gets much longer, lad, they’ll be mistaking you for a girl in town with that baby face.”

  Jacinda’s heart sank and she scrambled to recover her hat, which she then pulled down low over her face. “That won’t be necessary, Captain. Ben and I trim each other’s hair.” She promised herself to trim it at the earliest possible moment. “Was there something you wanted, sir?”

  Morrow turned and surveyed the garden where they stood. “You have been doing an excellent job, Jack. I’ve seen Ben helping from the library windows. Speaking of which, where is the lad? I stopped by the stables to order my carriage and he wasn’t there.”

  “There just aren’t enough horses to keep Ben busy what with Seth, too, so my brother’s lending a hand here. He’s burning leaves and grass in a pit behind the barn, sir. Seth said that was how the old gardener did it.”

  “Very good. What I came to tell you is I think there is too much for you to do alone or even with Ben’s help. You look exhausted. Take the rest of the afternoon off. Have Seth saddle Rosie. I should like you to ride into Westbury and see Mr. Samford at the Samford Arms. Tell him Lord Rowland is looking for, say, three sturdy lads to work at the Park during the day. We shall need them to start on Monday. I would handle it myself, but I am promised to tea with Mrs. Tyne and her brother this afternoon at Chettwood.”

  A strange coil of jealousy stirred in Jacinda’s chest. She had completely forgotten the invitation. She should be the one welcoming the captain to her home, not her cousin. Noting the twinkle in his eyes, curiosity got the better of her and she couldn’t resist asking, “Are you ... taken with the widow, sir?”

  The gentleman’s brows rose. “I hardly know her and it really wouldn’t matter if I were ‘taken with the lady,’ as you call it, Jack.” Captain Morrow eyes grew distant as his thoughts seemed to grow dark. “I am duty-bound to marry her cousin. No, I’m merely happy to be out of the house for the afternoon.”

  There was a part of her that was pleased, and yet not. She was glad that he wasn’t smitten but why would he pursue a marriage that he’d so adamantly opposed at sixteen? Jacinda probed further. “Her cousin? Why, sir?”

  The gentleman shook his head. “It’s a long, ugly story, lad. All I shall tell you is that long ago I made a mistake and did Miss Blanchett a terrible wrong. I shall do what I can to make up for it by doing my duty to the child. But you don’t want to hear about my troubles. We can discuss how you fare in Westbury on my return.” On that he turned and strode off to the stables.

  A hollow feeling settled over Jacinda. What wrong had he done her? Killed her father? Failed to stop his father from doing such a crime? She still wouldn’t believe he’d had a hand there, but that was only part of her pain. He would marry her without caring a fig for her, all because of duty and honor. It made her feel sick inside. She had already been through enough in her life. She was no longer that frail little girl who would have done what her father wanted. When she was once again in her place at Chettwood, she would release him from the betrothal and send him away. She didn’t want an unwilling husband.

  A wave of desolation swept over her. She might never find someone who would love her for anything but her money. Her spine stiffened and she held her head higher. She was strong, and she would face whatever the future held even if Captain Morrow was to be no part of that.

  She seemed to assume that he had no involvement in her father’s death. Perhaps it was only that she didn’t want it to be so, for she had come to like the gentleman. He was everything one could admire, having fought back from nothing to earn his own fortune.

  With a sigh she picked up the weeds and hauled them to where Ben was working. She ordered him to stay near the fire until it was completely out, then told him of her mission to town. He begged her to bring him a treat, and she promised she would if possible. There had been few such treats in his young life.

  Seth had already spoken with the captain, who’d left for Chettwood only minutes before she arrived, and a saddled horse awaited. She washed her hands and face in the horse trough and climbed up onto the mare’s back.

  It had been years since she’d ridden but it was a skill that one didn’t forget. She jogged along on Rosie, enjoying her free afternoon. Within ten minutes of leaving Rowland Park she trotted past the gates of Chettwood. A lump formed in her throat as she stared up the drive. The house wasn’t visible. It sat too far back from the road, but she knew the captain was there even now, having tea with Prudence and Giles as well as Aunt Devere and Cousin Millie. It made her feel melancholy.

  She slumped in the saddle, letting her mind dwell on what it would be like to see everyone she knew again. To own the truth, even Millie’s overprotectiveness wouldn’t seem so bad to her after all these years.

  Realizing that it was getting late, Jacinda urged Rosie into a canter towards the village. Another fifteen minutes of riding and the horse rounded a curve where the village of Westbury came into view. A lump formed in her throat when memories of coming here with her mother overwhelmed her. Then a moment of fear beset her when several people stared at her. It took a moment for her to realize they only did so out of curiosity at a stranger arriving in their small village.

  At last she spied the Samford Arms and guided the animal into the inn yard. She climbed down and gave her horse over to an ostler. Once inside, the innkeeper, Mr. Samford, was clearly skeptical when she first mentioned hiring lads for Rowland Park. Once she convinced him Captain Morrow was returned and determined to set the estate to rights, the old proprietor’s eyes gleamed.

  “So, young Morrow is back and plump in the pockets? I wonder how long that will last once the baron is back on his feet and back to his old ways.” A wicked gleam settled in the old man’s eyes. “I reckon the squire’s daughter will be wanting the captain to call again.” The old gentleman chuckled.

  Jacinda frowned. “The squire’s daughter?”

  “Aye, as memory serves, the lad was mad for Mariah Amberly. Only she’s Lady Bancroft these days, not but what the earl ever notices. He’s seventy if he’s a day.” With that the innkeeper called to his wife to send for his son and for the blacksmith’s lads as well, for there was money to be made.

  Jacinda recalled that a youthful Morrow had spoken of a Mariah that day in the hallway. He’d professed himself in love with her. Yet, she had married someone else. Did the captain still have feelings for her?

  Three burly lads arrived and turned Jacinda’s mind to the matter at hand. It seemed very strange for her to be directing such large lads but they were more interested in the money than her presumed age. A sum was agreed to and they all promised to be at the estate by six o’clock Monday morning.

  With her business complete, she strolled the streets of town, looking in the shop windows. At last she came to a mercantile, where she bought Ben a couple of pieces of hard candy. That done, she retrieved Rosie and set out to return to the Park.

  She pressed the old mare into a canter, but as she neared the gates of Chettwood, the old draw to see the place got the better of her. She reined the horse and stopped in the road, staring at the empty driveway. She wanted to see it up close and if she were careful, it would hurt nothing. The servants should be busy this late in the day preparing for supper and all her relations would be resting or changing for the evening meal.

  With a swift glance in both directions, she urged Rosie through the gates of her old home. A few feet in, she veered off the main drive and trotted thought the woods. Her destination was an old tree that grew beside the walled garden that her mother had had built. She came to the small stream that ran across the side of the property. After tying Rosie to a tree, Jacinda set out on a footpath that the servants used to go back and forth to the village.

  Within minutes she came to the open field in which the grounds were set. She spied the tree, much larger after eight years of gr
owth. Long branches dipping close to the ground would make it all the easier to climb. Crossing the open field to get to it would be risky, but there didn’t seem to be anyone about. She dashed over the open ground and quickly scrambled up the branches to the top of the wall. The air caught in her lungs as she looked over the wall into the garden. It was just as she remembered it. The roses were in full bloom, their sweet scent soft on the breeze, the shrubs were neatly trimmed, and the fountain gurgled happily just like on the last day she’d walked there. Whoever was in charge since her father had died had done an excellent job of maintaining the estate. Her eyes welled with tears. She missed her old home. Despite all her fears, she did want to return, and that meant she must begin to ask questions ... but how?

  A face suddenly appeared in an upstairs window. Jacinda ducked down, fearful of being seen, and her foot slipped off the limb. Despite her attempt to grab a branch, she fell. The tree limbs battered her all the way down, but thankfully helped break her fall. She hit the ground hard. Dust swirled around her, making it difficult to breathe. Or perhaps the wind had been knocked from her. For a moment she lay there gasping, fanning dust from her face. After the cloud settled she took a moment to test her limbs, nothing seemed broken, still the fall—

  “Ye there, lad, just what do ye think ye’re doing here?” A female voice called from behind her.

  Jacinda struggled to her feet. A difficult task, since everything on her ached. She turned away from the voice, afraid someone might recognize her. Not wanting a confrontation with any of her father’s servants, she began to limp back up the path away from the garden. She called over her shoulder in her best imitation of a farm lad. “Sorry, miss, I lost me way ’ome.”

  But the woman was not so easily duped. She lifted her skirts and hurried after Jacinda. The servant caught up with her in the middle of the field. “Here now, what nonsense is this? I saw ye in that tree.” She grabbed Jacinda’s arm and spun her around. “Yer up to no good, lad. Ye was in that tree lookin’ in the garden. Or are ye come to visit one of them silly parlor maids?”

  Jacinda recognized the woman at once as her mother’s former maid, Martha. She had stayed on after her mother’s death to work for the other ladies of the household.

  “Speak up, lad, I’ll not—” Martha froze midsentence. She reached out and clutched something at Jacinda’s chest.

  To her horror, the fall had caused her mother’s locket to come out of her shirt. There could be little doubt that Martha recognized the distinctive piece of jewelry that held two interlocking hearts with rubies. It had been a wedding gift from her father, a surprisingly affecting gift for a man who strayed so often.

  Martha’s gaze swept over the face only inches from hers and she opened her mouth as if to accuse the lad of heaven knew what, but then she locked on the tiny mole at the edge of the stranger’s full mouth. “Oh, saints in heaven! God has answered our prayers. Is it ye, Miss Jacinda?” She pulled a handkerchief from her apron pocket and began to wipe dust from the girl’s face.

  “Look at ye, so grown up, so healthy ... and so very dirty. Why Miss Millie will—”

  Jacinda grabbed her hands. “You mustn’t tell my cousin I’m here, Martha.”

  Doubt played over the older woman’s face for a moment, then she shrugged and folded Jacinda into her ample arms. She hugged the girl until Jacinda thought her ribs would break. “Martha, you must promise me not to tell a soul that I am here in Somerset. They would make me come home.”

  The maid drew back. “Ye ain’t here to stay?”

  “It’s not safe for me until my father’s murderer is found.”

  “Oh!” Martha caressed Jacinda’s face, still dabbing with her handkerchief at dirty spots. “I was so delighted to see ye alive and well that I didn’t think of that. Where’s Trudy, miss?”

  Despite the tightening in her throat, Jacinda was able to speak. “Dear Trudy died years ago, but she made certain I was in the safekeeping of her family. I’m staying in the neighborhood at present and my safety depends on keeping my identity a secret. I’ve come home to learn the truth, and I could use your help.”

  “I’ll do anything ye need, miss. Ye’ve only to ask.” Martha stared at the face that was much changed, then, overwhelmed with joy, she leaned over and showered kisses on Jacinda’s cheeks. “It’s so wonderful that yer alive, child.”

  Delighted to feel so welcome, Jacinda embraced the woman. After a moment she begged the old servant to tell her everything that had happened at Chettwood since she’d left. Martha looked over her shoulder at the manor, then slid her arm round Jacinda’s waist and led her towards the woods. “Someone might see us out here, miss. Come with me. There’s a good deal I can tell you about what’s been happenin’.”

  As the pair disappeared into the woods, they were unaware their encounter had been observed. Drew Morrow sat with his hands on the reins of his carriage, about to depart from Chettwood Manor where he’d stayed overlong, hoping to glean information about Miss Blanchett and the progress on solving the murder. He’d seen the lad appear, hurrying across the field. At first he’d almost glanced away, but there was something so familiar about the boy he stared harder. It was quite a distance from where the captain sat, but he recognized Jack Trudeau’s slender form and that huge floppy hat the lad always wore. Drew’s first thought was to wonder if the boy had come to bring him a message, but if that were so then why would Jack not have come to the front door? So what was he doing at Chettwood?

  Within minutes of Jack’s appearance, a slender female of indeterminate age hurried up behind him. Drew watched, wondering what was about to happen, for the woman seemed to be confronting Jack. A cold feeling settled into Drew’s gut. He knew little about the two lads he’d brought to his home. They’d saved him, and he had been so grateful that he hadn’t questioned their integrity. But he could only think of one reason for the boy to come to a strange house in a neighborhood he wasn’t familiar with. Had Jack been a housebreaker in London?

  To Drew’s utter surprise, the woman began to kiss Jack, then within minutes she hugged the lad, who in turn embraced her as well. What was this? Was the boy some kind of infant Romeo? Drew watched in amazement as the woman slid an arm round the lad’s waist and led him into the woods.

  Drew stared at the place where the pair disappeared through the trees for several minutes before he finally told his horse to walk on. It didn’t surprise him that females would swoon for such a pretty lad, but Jack was scarcely dry behind the ears. It had to be something else that had brought the lad here ... but what?

  A myriad of possibilities went through Drew’s head and none of them were good. As he swept out the gates of Chettwood, he promised to speak with the boy at the first opportunity. At present he was going to see his father’s doctor to find out what could be done to motivate him to leave his bed. Casting one final glance in the direction the pair in the field had gone, Drew frowned. He didn’t need Jack causing trouble in Chettwood. Drew needed to gain the family’s confidence if he were going to root out a murderer and bring Miss Blanchett home.

  Ben stirred the pot of lamb stew that Nate had brought to the cottage for their evening meal, then put the lid back and pushed the spar where the pot hung back over the low fire. He eyed the wooden spoon, then glanced around to make sure no one else was around. Having food readily available for the taking wasn’t something he was used to. With a grin he licked off the thick gravy, savoring Cook’s skills. He liked it at Rowland Park. The captain had seen to their every comfort. Ben’s gaze roved over the room which held several comfortable chairs, blankets, and linens as well as candles and books for them to read. And not that dull, dry preachy stuff but grand stories like Ivanhoe and Gulliver’s Travels.

  He jumped when the door opened and Jacinda entered. “What took you—” the lad halted as he took in her grimy face and clothes. There was dirt from the top of her head to the sole of her thick boots. A grin split his mouth and he asked, “What happened to you? Take a tumble from
old Rosie?”

  “I fell from a tree at Chettwood.” Jacinda took off her hat and beat the dust from the brim.

  The smile disappeared from Ben’s face. He came to her, his young face a study in fear. “I told you it was too dangerous for us to come back here. We’re not here a week and already you found danger. I know I never truly believed your story, but I’ve asked Seth some questions and I know everything you told me is true. Someone tried to kill you, and you go to the very place where you might be recognized.” A frown puckered the boy’s face. “Seth also said there are people here in the village that think it might have been the captain and his father who were involved.”

  Jacinda tossed her hat down on the table. “That’s nothing but idle gossip, Ben.” She shrugged out of her jacket and walked back to the open door and shook the dust out. She didn’t know why she felt the need to defend the captain. “The truth is there are plenty of people who might have wanted us dead. People who would inherit the estate.” She didn’t know who that entailed; since her father had warned her never to allow Mr. Wilkins to know her location, there had been only her letters to him.

  “I just don’t think we should be here at Rowland Park, of all places, Jack. If the baron or ...” His voice trailed off. It was obvious he liked Captain Morrow and didn’t want to think of him as a villain.

  She hung her coat on a peg, then went to the boy, putting both hands on his shoulders. “Don’t worry. The captain doesn’t have a clue who I am. I’m safe as long as I’m just the baron’s gardener. The good news is that I have an ally at Chettwood. Martha, my mother’s maid, knows who I am and she’ll tell us what is happening over there.”

  “Can you trust her?” Doubt hovered in his eyes.