The Lost Duchess

by Jenny Barden

  ‘Would you like something to drink?’ she asked gently. ‘Some water, perhaps?’

  ‘Water. Yes.’ He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. ‘Thank you.’

  She filled the cup from the ewer and brought it to his hands, making sure that he took hold of it before she began tidying around him.

  ‘Have you now decided to return?’ She asked the question blithely while getting the table top into a semblance of order. ‘Our city needs a champion back in London who will bring aid from Sir Walter. I hope that will be you.’

  White heaved a fretful sigh.

  ‘Our city also needs a Governor here in Virginia, and I would be failing in my responsibilities if I left the Planters now.’

  ‘You would not be failing them, if I may be allowed to say so, sir; you would be answering their prayers. No one carries more influence with Sir Walter than you do in this enterprise. If you took our plea to England this would be the greatest service you could give us, so I believe, Master White.’

  He waved his hand dismissively.

  ‘But I cannot leave my daughter and granddaughter here while I return to safety – and with you as well. That would render Eleanor quite bereft. She needs support.’

  ‘She has her husband,’ Emme countered lightly.

  ‘Ananias is a bold man, but not accustomed to caring, and, without anyone else to help her, my Eleanor will be more dependent on me than ever.’

  The evidence of this caring was not something that Emme had noticed in any practical way, but she supposed that Mistress Eleanor must have found her father’s presence comforting. She did not dispute the point. She inclined her head meekly.

  ‘I could always remain and look after her,’ she said. ‘Please hear me on this, sir.’ She continued quickly as White groaned. ‘I know that Sir Walter has asked for my return; probably he wished to hear an account of life in his city from a woman he knew and trusted. But, if I remained here, wouldn’t that give him yet more inducement to send help? I would gladly go back with the relief ships that I am sure Sir Walter will send. By staying in the meantime I could be doubly useful. I could help Mistress Eleanor as dry nurse to little Virginia, and I could help give another incentive to Sir Walter to come to our aid. I am certain he would not object to my being here a few months longer, considering the unforeseen circumstances we have encountered about which you could enlighten him. You could ensure that Sir Walter and the Queen heard only the truth about what has happened.’

  ‘Ah, yes, the truth.’ White bent his head lower and raked his fingers through his hair, sighing again before raising his eyes with a look of torment.

  ‘There is no doubt that if the reporting is left to others it might be open to misinterpretation. I have found this before, not least after Governor Lane’s return.’

  ‘Indeed,’ she remarked with an encouraging smile. ‘You are the patriarch of this enterprise, trusted by Master Harriot and others of influence who have ventured here before. Sir Walter will heed you. The fate of this city is in your hands. You could take news of our plight to London and the highest in the land. You may justly say that the pride and honour of England now rests with this city’s continuance.’

  ‘Yes, verily …’ White looked hard at her. ‘Well spoken for a maid.’

  She busied herself with more tidying. ‘I say only what I have heard from others.’

  White cleared his throat.

  ‘Well, I could account faithfully and put the case for relief. Yet …’ He picked up a quill and rolled it back and forth between thumb and forefinger. ‘No, I cannot. What will people think if I go back? They will point at me and say: “There is John White who persuaded good English folk to leave everything for a new life in Virginia and then forsook them in their hour of need.” They will say I never meant to stay here.’

  ‘I am sure they would not say that, for you are manifestly a selfless and virtuous man, and it would be clear to everyone from the reports that you left for the common good, not only your report but Master Ferdinando’s also …’

  ‘That swine. I don’t know …’ White shook his head.

  Perhaps mention of Ferdinando had been a mistake. Emme racked her brains for something that would sway the Governor: something to protect his reputation since that was plainly his chief concern.

  ‘What if all the Assistants swore to a document that you could take back to England stating that it was their desire, not yours, that you should return to seek help. They have begged you to plead for Sir Walter’s assistance, have they not?’

  White threw up his hands.

  ‘They have most certainly. Their importuning knows no bounds. I have tried to encourage others to go in my stead but no one will do it. If I had some proof of this with which to silence any mischief-makers who might seek to malign me, then possibly …’

  ‘Yes?’ she murmured hopefully. The Assistants had lost faith in him but he could not see it, and nothing would be gained by pointing that out. How to convince him that leaving was the right thing to do? She put the quills in a neat pile under a shell.

  White’s eyes rolled up to her above dark pouches as heavy as a bloodhound’s.

  ‘But what of my possessions?’ He winced as if the thought had nipped him. ‘What of my furniture and instruments and chests of books and charts? Some of my finest work is in my chests. It is too late now to carry them to the ships. The Lion has been caught up in this cursed storm, and the flyboat is already fully loaded and in position behind the bar. The ships only wait for the mariners who’ve been left here by mischance, and for whoever is going to take our report to Raleigh. And for you,’ he added pointedly.

  She opened her mouth but held back, resisting the urge to observe that much trouble could have been spared if he’d had the chests moved before.

  He pulled out one of the quills and began stripping the remains of feather-down from its shaft. ‘When the storm eases enough for the Lion to come close to shore, and we hear that the ships are ready to embark, then the pinnace will take the mariners and passengers across, no more. There’ll be no room for baggage.’

  She tried to soothe him, wondering what she could say that would impress him with a sense of urgency. They could be attacked at any moment by the Secotans, yet he was fussing about his chests. The sooner he was gone, the sooner help could be sent. He could leave now in the flyboat. Why even wait for the Lion?

  ‘Your possessions will be safe, sir. I am sure you can trust us all to take care of them. Your daughter and I will see to that. I treasure your work as much as anyone.’

  ‘But if you leave Roanoke, what then? My chests are heavy and would be difficult to transport if the relocation is up rivers that only small boats can navigate. If the Assistants decide to head for Chesapeake, as we originally planned, what would happen to my things then? How would I know where you were?’

  Emme hid an inclination to roll her eyes and bang something down. How many more excuses could the Governor come up with? Increasingly she felt that this is what his arguments amounted to. White wanted to return to give a good account of his actions, but she also sensed his fear of failure; he couldn’t bear to reach a decision.

  She picked up a napkin and wiped the table clean.

  ‘Be not troubled about finding us. We could easily agree signs with which we could alert you if we moved to another place, and tell you where we had gone. Through a signed document, the Assistants could swear to safeguard all the belongings you leave behind. You could depart in good conscience knowing that this is the wish of all the Planters and with proof to that effect. They would see you as their saviour. Furthermore, let us not forget that Master Ferdinando has offered to receive you aboard his ships. Whether he would allow any Assistants to board is uncertain; he has previously denied them all that privilege. Once our Pilot returns – if he returns as I hope he will …’

  White snorted and flicked ineffectually at the fly. ‘He’ll come back once he’s ridden out the storm. His Quartermaster and half the crew are s
till here on Roanoke. The swine won’t leave without them …’

  She seized her chance. ‘Then you would be best placed to leave quickly without objection when he does. I beg you, sir: be ready to go for the sake of this city and its hundred and more souls, including your daughter and new granddaughter.’

  White was silent. He placed the stripped quill neatly on the cleared table boards where a sliver of light cut tangentially across it. At length he spoke wearily. ‘I will consider all that you have said.’

  ‘Thank you, sir, for listening, though I am but a maid, and God bless you for all that you have done in founding this city. Virginia will be a testament to your vision as much as your observations and charts and most beautiful limnings.’

  He made a noise that acknowledged he’d heard her but that was all. The wind whined outside and rustled the papers she had stacked under another weighty shell. Beyond that, nothing moved, though she fancied that White was closing his eyes.

  She crept out quietly and made for the clearing, searching for Kit amongst the Planters repairing storm-damage to the buildings. After spotting him on a roof, she caught his attention when he came down by waiting near a swaying ladder held in position by two men. She wouldn’t keep Kit or press him to do anything. She would be brief.

  ‘I think the Governor will leave,’ she murmured. ‘But he must be offered some written proof that he is acting at our request and exonerated from any censure.’

  She outlined the terms of the document that White had intimated he would accept, and was gratified to see Kit nodding and looking very pleased with her.

  ‘We can do this,’ he said. ‘We have nothing to lose by trying.’ Then he regarded her steadily in a way that made her think he might have tried to take hold of her if they were not in the middle of the town, surrounded by a throng of busy people.

  ‘Now are you ready to go?’

  She gave him a tight smile.

  ‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’

  A warm flurry of wind snatched at her shawl and sent it whipping behind her as something clattered to the ground.

  He turned to look and she stepped away. She had to get back to her mistress.

  ‘You will be safe,’ he said, calling after her.

  She dodged around rippling puddles until the wind dropped suddenly and the sun blazed out; then the muddied earth steamed and she was dazzled by mirrored light.

  Somehow she would keep near Kit and then, she was sure, everything would be all right.

  *

  This was a morning for setting sail. The sky was an intense blue with streaks of white vaulting under the heavens and a perfectly clear horizon. A sweet warm breeze blew fresh from the southwest and the gulls were crying: ‘Come away. Come away.’ If he was to choose a day to be at sea then this would be it, with the call of freedom pumping through his veins, and the longing firing his blood: to hear again the slap of wind filling canvas and the thrum in the rigging, the creak of timbers and the deep booming in the hull, to feel the surge of a ship rising and dipping beneath him, the bows cutting through waves, leaping into life, full of the power of the skies.

  From the shallow cliffs near the fort he looked out over the sound and saw the white trail of a wake and a small tawny sail. He recognised the pinnace instantly and was not surprised: Stafford was returning from Hatarask. Almost certainly that meant that Spicer was ready to leave in the flyboat, and probably the Lion was now offshore. Stafford would be coming for the mariners and whoever had been nominated to take the report back to Raleigh. The Governor would be leaving since he’d accepted that he should go. It meant that Emme would leave as well while he stayed behind. She’d be gone from him for good and, more than likely, he’d never sail the high seas again. A pang of remorse formed a lump in his throat and, though he tried to dismiss it, he could not shake his sense of loss. It was with a heavy heart that he turned to spread the word in the city. Everyone had to be ready who was going to leave with the ships. He had to be sure Emme was prepared and that might yet prove a trial; he still wasn’t convinced that she had accepted she was going. But the time for debate was over. The ships wouldn’t wait.

  Perhaps his fears had been unfounded. When he alerted Emme to the probability that Stafford was coming to collect her, she thanked him for the news and left to prepare for the voyage. He got ready as well, since he’d agreed to sail the pinnace back to Roanoke after Stafford boarded the Lion.

  White caused the most difficulty by continuing to vacillate over whether he would leave to summon help. It took further entreaties and a public rendering of the memorandum to which all the Assistants had set their hands and seals to get White reconciled to packing his bags. When Stafford brought the pinnace into the nearest mooring, a little creek close by the sandy bluff behind the fort, White was ready and waiting for him.

  But Emme was not.

  Kit looked at all the colonists gathered to bid White farewell and Emme was nowhere to be seen, yet the urgency was great, just as he’d supposed; Stafford confirmed it. Ferdinando was anchored off Hatarask and would brook no delay. He wouldn’t take the risk of getting caught in another storm. The flyboat was beyond the sandbar and the ships would sail before noon.

  He had to ask Stafford to wait.

  ‘Mistress Murimuth should be here. I’ll go and fetch her.’

  Stafford frowned but gave a nod. ‘Look lively about it, Kit.’

  That set White into another bout of temporising.

  ‘But Mistress Murimuth is staying here, that is what I understood from her. If she is not staying I may need to reconsider …’

  There was no time to remonstrate; Kit left Stafford to do that. He ran back to the Dares’ house where he found Emme as he had guessed. She was sitting by the crib, gently rocking the baby, and she couldn’t have looked less ready to go on a voyage. He clenched his jaw.

  ‘Get up now!’

  She didn’t even glance at him but gazed down at the infant and carried on rocking the cradle.

  ‘Hush,’ she whispered. ‘Virginia is sleeping.’

  He strode over and hauled her to her feet. ‘You are going,’ he growled, letting some of his anger bubble out. He strengthened his grip on her. How could she do this?

  ‘You said you would go. Now is the time. You are jeopardising White’s departure. Ferdinando will not wait.’

  ‘I am jeopardising nothing,’ she said meekly, turning her head and looking at him with dark eyes, soft as a doe’s, and her look only inflamed him more because he knew she was deliberately appealing for his compassion, showing him a woman’s weakness. But he would not give in. She had to go now. He wrenched her towards the door.

  She went limp in his hands, almost falling at his feet. He staggered in trying to hold her up. He would drag her away if he had to, pin her arms behind her back.

  His hands tightened and he felt her begin to shake. That stopped him instantly. He didn’t mean to hurt her, only get her to leave. In a wave of remorse he released his hold, but his anger still raged inside him.

  She backed away.

  ‘Listen to me,’ she murmured. ‘Governor White will not go unless I stay. I have agreed to look after his granddaughter. He knows that with me here Sir Walter will have to send relief; the Queen will make sure of that. Accept it, Kit. Let me be, and go and see the Governor on his way.’

  The rage passed through him and left his hands clutching at air. She was throwing her chance away and all he could do was watch. He turned from her, choked with fury.

  ‘Very well, but I consider your defiance a poor repayment for my trust. You deceived me.’

  ‘I told you no lies.’

  ‘But a lie was what you let me believe.’

  He marched out and didn’t look back. She had disappointed him and the tragedy of her fate would now be bound up with his. The chances were that, when relief finally came, if it came, they both would be dead. So be it. He had done his best to spare her.

  But the suspicion still haunted him that he could ha
ve done more.

  The wind was blowing stronger when the pinnace finally left. Stafford stood at the helm while Kit led the stroke and the mariners helped to row, and White still protested his reluctance to depart, arguing that he might yet remain even as Stafford gave the order to get underway. The Planters waved everyone off with a fanfare, and the pinnace left Port Ferdinando only two hours later, the flow being in their favour. After seeing White aboard the flyboat, the pinnace took Stafford and the mariners across to the Lion. Once there, Kit had the satisfaction of hearing Ferdinando vent his exasperation over Mistress Murimuth being left behind, an anger directed at the hapless Quartermaster. There could be no going back for her with the wind getting up.

  Kit was left on the pinnace, with Rob and a few others who would stay on at Roanoke, briefly in command at the fringes of the ocean. He looked out to the northeast, to the crossing he would not make, then back to the ships that would undertake the great journey. He saw the Lion set sail and watched the flyboat prepare to follow, the men at the flyboat’s capstan labouring to haul up the anchor, backs bent as they strained to push round the bars, two to each of the six spars, turning the drum by degrees. But then disaster struck as fast as a bolt from the heavens. The next instant they lay crippled, limbs shattered and broken; blood flooded the deck; screams rent the air.

  He told Emme what had happened when he got back to the island.

  ‘One of the capstan bars broke. Those remaining spun round so fast they knocked the men down like skittles. The anchor must have snagged and the strain was too much. Even a second attempt wouldn’t shift it and that led to more casualties. In the end, Spicer cut the cable and lost the anchor to get away – not good for a ship without a boat, since all the tenders have been left here at Roanoke. Ten of the crew were badly injured, and some of them most likely won’t last out the crossing. Only five men and Captain Spicer were left fit enough to work the ship.’