The Captain

by Lynn Collum

  “Thank God you found me.”

  He kissed her hard, then asked, “Who did this?”

  “Weems.” She said the man’s name as if she couldn’t comprehend such stunning news.

  Drew stared a moment. “The steward? But why?”

  She nodded her head. “I don’t understand, but I intend to find out.”

  He lifted her out of the tiny space and carried her to her room. “No, my love, you are going to stay here while I go find him.” Several thoughts of what he would do with the man played in his head. He lay her on her bed and worked on the binding round her hands and legs.

  “I’m going with you. If that look in your eye means what I think—we won’t learn anything if you kill him.”

  After the last rope came free, he kissed her forehead. “I want to but I shan’t. I shall only capture him and hold him for the constable. Like you I want answers. Did he say anything?”

  “Only that he’d gotten his revenge and they would blame Aunt Devere. Oh, great heavens, before he grabbed me I found Aunt Devere missing from her room. You don’t think he harmed her, do you?”

  “I think he was trying to kill you and Mr. Wilkins. He had drugged the old gentleman. As to your aunt, we have not seen her, so hopefully he merely released her.”

  Jacinda slid from the bed. “I must go and see how he is.”

  Drew protested she should stay in bed, but the determined look on her face meant she would go. He shrugged as followed her down the hall to the room where the servants had moved the solicitor. The old gentleman was just waking, befuddled by those who surrounded him. He was still too groggy to answer questions.

  Prudence, in wrapper and nightcap, appeared in the doorway, her eyes heavy-lidded. “The noise and smell of smoke woke me. I fear I took some of the sleeping potion the doctor left. My mother is missing from her room.” She glanced behind her at the smoke still lingering in the hall. “Tell me Mama is not responsible for what is happening?”

  Jacinda went to her sister. “Not a bit of it, but I fear Weems has taken her somewhere. He did all this, intending to lay the blame at your mother’s door.”

  “Weems?” Perplexed and a bit groggy, she could only shrug. “I don’t understand.”

  Drew came to where the ladies stood. “Nor do we, madam, but I intend to find out.” He moved past them into the hall.

  “I’m coming with you.” Jacinda stepped forward.

  “Not in your bedclothes.” He stepped back to her, giving her a light kiss. “You stay here with Mrs. Tyne and organize the search for her mother.” Without further discussion, he strode down the hall.

  Jacinda was torn as she watched him go. She’d waited so long for the truth, and now she was to be left behind.

  Prudence was no fool. She tugged her sister down the hall. “Come, we shall dress and I shall handle the search for my mother. You go after the captain.”

  The two ladies disappeared in the direction of their own rooms.

  Some fifteen minutes later Jacinda stopped by the gun room and found one of her father’s dueling pistols. They were beautiful pieces that he often took out and showed his friends but to Jacinda’s knowledge they had never been fired in anger. She hoped she wouldn’t have to use them tonight.

  The steward’s cottage lay in complete darkness. Drew stood in the shadows of a large birch tree, watching the house. There was no movement or sound from the darkened windows.

  A crackle of leaves behind him made him spin. Jacinda stepped to where he was waiting.

  “I told you not to come.” Despite his words he pulled her into his arms.

  “I must hear the truth from his lips.”

  Drew stroked her hair. It wouldn’t be fair to exclude her after all she’d suffered at this man’s hands. “Very well, but stay in the background until I have him secured.”

  “I will.” They moved back to watch the house in silence for a moment. After several minutes, Jacinda asked, “Do you think he’s in there?”

  “Without a doubt. It’s part of his plan. He drugged Mr. Wilkins, stuffed you into that wardrobe, set the fire, then returned to the cottage to pretend he knows nothing. What he planned after that I cannot say.” Anger raged inside him. He’d trusted the man. Why, he’d even asked the man to watch out for Jacinda.

  No movement was visible at the windows. Drew signalled Jacinda to stay hidden, then moved to the front door and knocked. It was several moments before a light appeared in the windows. The door opened and Weems, in his nightcap, a lantern in his hand, appeared to have just gotten out of bed.

  “Captain, what’s wrong?”

  He sounded so genuine Drew thought the man could tread the boards and rival the best talent on the stage. “Don’t play the innocent, Weems. Your plan is finished. We saved Miss Blanchett and Wilkins from the fire unharmed. I shall see you hanged for your work this night.”

  The steward face twisted in frustration. He backed away from the angry glare in Drew’s eyes. “I’ve waited eight years for my chance and you think you can come back and ruin it?”

  Weems threw the lantern at Drew, but thankfully it didn’t break until it hit the floor. The steward raced for the rear door, but he wasn’t fast enough. The captain grabbed him and threw him back into the room. He crashed into a table, knocking a bottle of brandy to the floor. The liquid splattered onto the candle and the flame from the candle ignited the rug with surprising intensity. The steward regained his balance and came at Drew, fists flying. The man had no formal training, but what he lacked in skill he made up for in strength. His first jab clipped Drew’s shoulder, knocking him backward into a table, which shattered. Taking advantage of the moment, Weems ran at the open front door, disappearing into the darkness.

  Drew hastened to his feet and went after the villian but he didn’t have far to go. Weems had run headlong into Stritch, who had arrived armed and had been knocked down by the fleeing steward. The two men struggled on the ground until Drew put his foot on Weems’s arm, pinning him down. Then he helped the old butler rise.

  “Are you all right, Stritch?”

  The old man was short of breath, but he straightened his robe and said, “In fine curl, sir, now that we’ve got this blackguard.”

  Jacinda appeared out of the darkness. She glared down at the man who’d changed her life so long ago, but could find no words to say to him. Instead, she stepped back as Drew and Stritch pulled the steward to his feet and dragged him back to the cottage. Drew shoved him in a chair. The fire on the rug had gotten a good hold and much of the material was ablaze. Stritch went toward it to put it out, but Drew stopped him.

  “Stritch, find me some rope, instead.” Drew never took his gaze from the steward, who sat in the chair gasping for air after his mad dash and mill with the butler. He glared at Jacinda who stood mutely in the doorway watching him.

  The old servant handed the ancient pistol to the captain then began to search the room, staying away from the ever-growing blaze. Within minutes he found short lengths of rope in a chest near the door. He held them up for Drew and a knowing look passed between the men.

  While Stritch tied the man to the chair, Drew asked the most pressing question. “Where is Mrs. Devere? Is she here?”

  The steward’s face became a stone mask of indifference. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  “Weems,” Drew leaned close as the butler finished his task and stepped back. “Either you talk and tell us what we want to know or,” Drew straightened and looked at the fire which had spread from the rug up the leg of a chair, “we leave you to the fate that you intended for Miss Blanchett and Wilkins.” It was a bluff. No matter what the man had done, Drew wouldn’t do such a thing, but he hoped such a man wouldn’t see though the threat. He looked at Jacinda and for a moment horror filled her eyes, then she saw the truth in his face. After an almost imperceptible nod she remained silent, allowing him to handle the man.

  Weems eyes grew wide as he watched the fire spread. “You—you can’t.”

 
; “I can and I will. Where is Mrs. Devere?”

  “I—I only woke her up and took her outdoors. She’s somewhere in the gardens. I thought since she’d tried to burn her niece once, that it would be the perfect opportunity to cover what I did.”

  Relief filled Drew. He’d been afraid the man had done something more to the old woman. His brow flattened. “Why are you trying to kill Miss Blanchett? There can be little doubt you arranged her father’s murder. What is this about?”

  Weems’s face twisted with painful memories and he yelled at Jacinda. “Your father deserved to die. I wanted him to suffer the way I suffered for his dastardly behavior.”

  Her hand moved to her throat. The hatred in his voice was chilling. “My father wronged you?”

  “The scoundrel ruined my only sister, a beautiful young girl in the prime of her youth. She was but seventeen when he met her in Bath and ... and took her virtue by making her think he loved her. It was only later she learned he was married with a wife and child of his own. Within a month she learned she was with child.” Weems grew quiet for a moment, staring into the flames on the floor, tears rolling down his face. “She threw herself into the Avon rather than bear the shame. When they pulled her body from the river I swore I’d make him pay.” A satisfied calm came to his face. “And I did.”

  “But why kill Jacinda? She was an innocent in all that.” Drew believed the man was almost as mad as Mrs. Devere. His quest had consumed his whole life.

  Weems’s gaze raked Jacinda with disdain. “Why should she live when my sister lies cold in her grave?”

  “And Wilkins? Why murder him?”

  A cunning grin curled the corners of the man’s mouth. “The parlor maids were always nattering about what the Quality were doin’. I found out everyone had been looking for a new will that was drawn up just before he died. So I went to Bath and found a man who drew up a will that left the foundry fortune to Giles Devere and the estate to me. It was dated the last week of Blanchett’s life. Wilkins would have been one of the few people who might have questioned the signature or the contents.”

  Drew and Jacinda exchanged a surprised look. Neither expected a conspiracy. “Giles was in this with you?”

  Weems gave a superior laugh. “I’d hardly throw my lot in with that fool, but he makes a perfect sacrifice, does he not? Always in need of money for his gamin’, expensive tastes, and without many redeemin’ features. Admit it, you all suspected him, did you not?”

  Drew couldn’t deny he was right. “But don’t you think everyone would have questioned leaving an estate to a man who was a complete stranger when there were family survivors?”

  “I can run this estate far better than any member of Blanchett’s family. The man had littered the countryside with his by-blows. I merely wrote a letter pretending my mother had declared me to be the man’s son. After the fire I meant to stash the letter and the will in a secret panel in the desk in the library. I saw him open it once when he didn’t know I was watching. I searched it after he died and the girl disappeared. It has a list of his dirty little mistakes and the payments made to cover himself.”

  Sickened, Jacinda turned her back on Weems to stare out into the darkness. It was clear that her father’s deeds and their aftermath were causing her great pain. But she wasn’t so weak she would give up before she’d heard the whole story. With her back still to him she asked, “And who were those men who attacked us?”

  “My cousin and his friend did the deed for a mere ten pounds and passage to America, so the law can’t get their hands on them,” Weems gloated.

  Drew wanted to smash the man’s face but he held himself in check. “And who fired the shot at Jacinda on her first day back.”

  The steward pressed his lips closed, but when Drew pulled him towards the burning rug, he began to speak, “A man I met in an ale house in Wells. I hired him when I learned she”—he gestured at Jacinda with his head—“was comin’ home. He’d lost a leg in the war and couldn’t find work. Claimed he was a marksman, but he missed.”

  “I want his name.” Drew demanded.

  “Crawley’s his name. But he’s gone back to London, so you’ll never find him.”

  “No, but a magistrate might.” A small clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour of two. There would be nothing more accomplished tonight. “Stritch, we must take Weems back to the manor. Is there some place we can lock him up until morning?”

  “The cellars, sir.”

  Drew moved to take Jacinda in his arms while Stritch undid the man’s ropes. “Have you heard what you came to hear?”

  She nodded her head, her gaze on the brandy-induced fire. As she looked at the shards of glass, it struck her that the brandy was from her father’s private stock—but none of that mattered now. “We must do something or the cottage will burn.”

  Drew went into the small bedroom. He came back with a blanket, which he threw over the fire, then stamped on the flames beneath. It smoldered and the flames, unrestrained for so long, resisted his efforts.

  All eyes were on the process. Weems suddenly darted for the door. But instead of escaping, he grabbed Jacinda in a stranglehold.

  Drew stepped toward him but stopped as Weems’s arm tightened round her neck. “I’ll kill her if you come closer.”

  “Let her go.” Drew demanded even as his gut clenched. He couldn’t lose Jacinda now. They would be able to live at last out from under the cloud of fear that had dogged her for eight years.

  Weems backed towards the door, pulling her with him. “I may not get the estate, but I shall certainly avenge my sister’s—”

  A dull thud sounded as the man stiffened, his eyes rolled up in his head and he groaned. His arm slid from Jacinda as he collapsed to the ground. She ran straight into Drew’s open arms. There in the doorway stood Thomas Wilkins in his nightshirt and banyan, a piece of firewood in his hand.

  “Burn my best jackets, will you?” He glared down at Weems body as Drew pulled Jacinda into his arms. “What the devil was this man’s game?” The old solicitor looked from Stritch to Drew to Jacinda.

  The captain sighed. “It’s a long, ugly story and I shall tell it all in the morning. Stritch, remain here and keep a guard on Weems. I shall take Miss Blanchett back to the house. We’ll send James down to help take him to the wine cellar.”

  The old solicitor looked at the others for an explanation of what had happened, but Drew shook his head, signifying that it wasn’t the time. Wilkins nodded. “I shall remain here with Stritch. Wouldn’t want this dastard to come to and cause trouble again.”

  At a quarter past two o’clock, fatigue was evident in all their faces. Still Jacinda asked, “What about Aunt Devere?”

  Mr. Wilkins sat heavily on the chair recently vacated by the steward, the drug he’d been given still making him sluggish. “I quite forgot. That was why I came down. She was found wandering in the back meadow, perfectly unharmed.”

  Jacinda sagged into Drew’s arm with relief, then her gaze roved to the man unconscious on the ground. Pain played on her face for the man she’d thought her friend. Drew squeezed her closer and she looked up at him.

  “Come, my dear, you need to rest.”

  She didn’t protest and allowed him to lead her out of the smoky cottage. She was so silent on the walk back that he became concerned. On the front steps of the manor, Drew stopped before he opened the door. “I adore you, my love. It’s truly over at last and I want you to put all this behind you. Will you marry me tomorrow? We shall start anew.”

  He couldn’t see her features in the darkness, but her voice sounded tired and defeated. “I feel so ashamed of what my father did. How much pain and hurt he caused. How can I just go on as if none of it matters?”

  “Your father paid for his actions with his life and almost cost you yours. I cannot make my father any different from what he is—a gambler who will go straight back to his old ways the moment he is back on his feet. He is what he is as was your father. We, neither of us, must spend th
e rest of our lives trying to make up for their failings.”

  He heard her soft sigh, then she melted into his arms. “I do so love you.”

  Drew crushed her to him. “Then be mine. Sail to India with me. Once there I can arrange with my business partners to move my routes back to England. I’ll sail the Flying Dragon in the Irish Seas instead. We can settle down here at Chettwood.”

  “India?” He heard the interest in her voice, then she said, “But I have been away for so long, shouldn’t I—”

  “Millie has done a wonderful job of seeing to things. Perhaps she would agree to continue for a while longer.”

  “But what about Ben?”

  “Shall we take the scamp with us? We can hire a tutor to go as well.”

  She laughed. “He would certainly prefer it to school in the fall.”

  “Then say yes, my love.” He could think of nothing better than sailing the seas with Jacinda. She would make his life complete.

  “Yes, my love. A sea voyage would be just the thing for a new beginning,” she whispered just before his lips covered hers.

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  Copyright © 2005 by Jerry Lynn Smith

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  ISBN: 978-1-4201-3031-7