by Jenny Barden
‘Will they continue?’
‘They have little choice if they’re to get White back to England without any more delay. Ferdinando wants to go privateering once he reaches the Azores.’
Kit looked at her, hair haloed by the light from an open window, sitting at the table in the strong-house where White used to preside over meetings. They were in a room that seemed curiously peaceful after the heated arguments he’d heard in it recently, fists thumping the boards where now her hands gently stroked the wood-grain. He was still cross with her, but in an aimless way that left him more annoyed with his own lack of foresight. He should have anticipated what she’d do; perhaps deep down he’d always known she would try to stay. He was also, if he was honest with himself, exceedingly pleased that she had not left, and even more pleased that she seemed eager to talk. At least she’d not been caught up in the disastrous start to the flyboat’s voyage. Perhaps good fortune had saved her from something worse than the present danger. Though the Dares’ baby and Georgie were undoubtedly the real reasons for her remaining, he still cherished the notion that maybe she cared for him a little, despite his chequered past, and his revelation about Ololade which must have upset her, and the anger he had shown her which he should have kept under control. Her determination to defy him and stay on Roanoke had been both brave and selfless; he could not fault her for that. In truth she humbled him.
She pursed her lips and tipped her head on one side. The simple clothes she wore suited her, though only a few months ago he’d admired her in ruffs and finery. He liked to see her in blue homespun with a shawl over her shoulders, the fabric loose about her and shaping her fine figure without wires and ties and all the paraphernalia of display. She looked like the goodwife he’d once dreamt of coming home to, before capture and escape to live as an outlaw and then as an adventurer. He’d make a poor husband now. But he must concentrate on what she was saying.
‘Haven’t you noticed?’ she asked him.
‘Noticed what?’
‘Misfortune seems to have dogged our enterprise with everything that Ferdinando has had a hand in. Consider all that has happened: the abandoning of the flyboat on the outward journey; the poisoning of the Planters on first landfall; the failure to take on board salt or find any livestock or fruit; the loss of the two soldiers at St John’s; the near wrecking off the cape to the south, and Ferdinando’s refusal to take us to Chesapeake. Don’t all these instances suggest to you that he’s been intent on our destruction all along?’
Kit put his elbows on the table and cupped his chin, studying her closely from the place where he sat opposite her. Did she really believe that Ferdinando was to blame for all their trials?
‘I’m not convinced of that.’
‘I am. He’s a snake. Consider his behaviour towards me. What would he have done if I’d been at his mercy now?’
‘I cannot forgive him for offending you, but I don’t think he’d have seriously hurt you. He might have tormented you, that I will grant, which is not to excuse him.’
‘But why torment me?’
Kit wondered how much to share with her. Everything, whispered one inner voice; Be cautious, whispered another. Her mouth was irresistible, soft and sensual, vulnerably full in the upper lip. Whenever he looked at her lips he was seized with an urge to kiss them. He took a breath.
‘Perhaps Ferdinando has been trying to disguise who he really is, just as you are now.’
Her expression registered puzzlement in one tiny line between her arched dark brows.
‘That makes no sense to me. Who do you think I am really? Who do you think Ferdinando is? Sir Francis Walsingham alerted me to his suspicions that our Pilot is an agent of Spain. I believe that must be right. It’s the only explanation that accounts for everything that’s gone awry when Ferdinando has been involved. Perhaps he’s been responsible for even more than seems obvious to me now.’
He ran his finger along the oak grain on the table top just as she was doing, but in the opposite direction. He brought his finger to rest a fraction before they touched.
‘I think you are much more than you seem, even though I know a little of your past; who you really are I think you do not yet know yourself. I believe the Queen agreed to your coming on this voyage, and it is the Queen who insisted that you return.’
She bowed her head and spoke softly.
‘That is right. It doesn’t matter now.’
‘It does,’ he said. ‘She will be annoyed to have been defied.’
‘But she will encourage Sir Walter to send help …’
‘Only if she considers it in England’s interests to do so. She will not send a fleet to rescue one lady, even one of her own.’
She looked upset and he moved his fingertips to rest lightly on hers, hoping to give her some comfort.
‘As for Ferdinando, if he is a Spanish agent then why did he stay to help the colony for so long? Why offload all our supplies and then wait close to shore? Even after a storm blew up, he didn’t abandon us and leave for England. He beat up and down the coast and waited it out, then came back to escort the flyboat on the start of her homeward journey.’
‘Perhaps he was espying on us and wanted to be sure of what we were doing.’
‘Maybe. But why would the Spaniards want us here rather than at Chesapeake?’
Her frown deepened, and she moved her hand away slightly, beginning to trace a small circle with her finger, watching the pattern forming, not looking at him.
‘Because some of the Indians are hostile here? I don’t know. I agree it doesn’t seem rational, but I’m sure there’ll be a reason; we just don’t yet understand everything. That Ferdinando is working for Spain will only be part of the explanation.’
‘But Ferdinando didn’t know the Indians were hostile around Roanoke, only Lane knew the full extent of that and what he’d done to cause their hatred. But he kept quiet about it because it didn’t reflect well on him.’
She raised her eyes straight to his: two brown pools full of warmth, wide, open and inviting.
‘So what is your conclusion?’
He would hide nothing from her.
‘I can think of one person who wanted us as far south as possible.’
‘Who?’
‘Drake. I heard him say as much. He wanted the colony further south to provide a base for harrying Spanish shipping and stopping their advance north from Florida. If Drake wanted us here and not at Chesapeake then Walsingham would have wanted it too.’
‘Walsingham?’ He saw her shock: the hand raised to her mouth, the blink, her eyes opening again a little narrower, more guardedly, the awareness sinking in. ‘No,’ she whispered, drawing out the denial then rushing on. ‘It was Walsingham who told me that Ferdinando was suspected of spying for the Spanish. It was Walsingham who acceded to my request to join this enterprise and who made that possible.’
He flattened his hand on the table, palm down, motionless: no more drawing lines and circles. This was what he knew.
‘Bluff and double bluff. What matters most to Walsingham is the safety of the realm, curbing Spanish expansion and keeping the Spaniards guessing. He and Drake saw the strategic advantage of a base here, even further south if that could be achieved, but they also wanted the Spaniards to think we were heading for Chesapeake. By misleading the Spaniards they could hope to avert the risk of Spanish attack. If the Spaniards were ever to find and destroy us – worse still, take over our base here – that could lead to Spanish control of the whole of this coast. It would make England’s claim to Virginia impossible to sustain.’
She shook her head slowly.
‘I still can’t believe it.’
‘Follow it through and see how this supposition explains so much of what has occurred: Ferdinando leaving the two Irish veterans at St John’s who thought we were heading for Chesapeake; his nervousness in the Caribbean: not wanting to do anything that might alert the Spaniards to our presence which could have led to confrontation and captur
e – and possibly, through him, the discovery of our true objective; his trying to find an anchorage behind the sand banks further south from here.’
Her eyes flashed.
‘That foolishness almost wrecked us.’
‘He did not intend for us to be wrecked. He took a risk, thinking that he’d be able to navigate a way into the river mouth behind the bight, but it proved more difficult than he thought.’
Emme placed her fingertips to her cheeks, her hands over her chin and most of her mouth, and her lips formed a tiny ‘O’.
Kit went on.
‘It also explains why Ferdinando was so desperate to take both you and White back. This was what Walsingham had told him to do.’
‘But why was he so odious to me?’
‘To keep up the pretence that you were only a maid: just a woman he found attractive and thus would allow back on his ship.’
He could tell that she still did not believe it, would not want to believe it.
‘But why abandon the flyboat in the Bay of Biscay?’
‘I don’t think that could be helped. There was a storm and the ships became separated. Spicer might have been captured by the Spaniards. Ferdinando couldn’t run the risk of the Lion being captured too.’
‘Then why did Walsingham ever let me come on this mission?’
He heard the defiance in her voice. She must have considered Walsingham her protector, someone she could depend upon. Maybe she yet thought of him in that way.
Kit regarded her steadily, waiting for her to take her hands away from her beautiful face, to look at him directly.
‘You helped sustain the interest of the Queen and that in turn secured Raleigh’s backing. None of this would be possible without the funding from Raleigh’s purse. The Queen would never have paid for it; the risk is too great for her to gamble a fortune on the Virginia colony from the stretched resources of the Treasury.’
She placed her hand beside his.
‘Perhaps you are right. I am beginning to believe that you usually are.’
She touched his hand and the contact opened something in him, a floodgate to feeling he’d been trying to hold back, because he could be sure of nothing now where she was concerned: a woman he had tried to distance who had persisted in remaining close, a woman who could touch him physically but who might be removed by a gulf as wide as the sound in the secrets of her heart.
‘I don’t think we will ever know for certain,’ he said. ‘But now Ferdinando is gone, and it may be some time before help reaches us from England. We must make the best of what we have.’
She smiled at him. ‘And you must make the best of my being here.’
He couldn’t help but smile back. ‘I will try to, though I would much rather that you had been safely on your way to England. You defied me.’
Why had he said that? He no longer cared that she had opposed him.
Her smile became mischievous.
‘I would defy you again if I had to.’
As she spoke, he leaned closer to her over the table, tipping his head on one side, thinking that he really would like to kiss her. But would she let him?
A loud rap at the door denied him the chance to find out; it left them both sitting upright swiftly. Kit found some papers to leaf through that had been quaintly stacked under a large shell. He was thumbing through them when Dare and Harvie entered.
‘We have a request for you, Master Doonan,’ Dare began.
Harvie followed.
‘All the Assistants are in agreement in Master White’s absence.’
Dare carried on, and so they continued, one after the other.
‘We need someone to take advice from the Assistants and act on our behalf after due consultation regarding matters of importance.’
‘Someone to arbitrate where there is contention.’
‘As well as assume ultimate responsibility for the proper governance of this city, its defence and preservation.’
Dare handed him another piece of paper with a flourish.
‘This sets it all out.’
‘We have decided to appoint you as acting Governor,’ Harvie explained, red faced.
‘If you agree,’ Dare added.
‘We pray that you will,’ Harvie said, as if the words were stones in his mouth.
The two gentlemen stood back and regarded him soberly. Kit glanced at Emme and saw that she was beaming at him with a look full of pride. These men, who had scorned his advice, both new fathers, now wanted him to lead the colony on which their children’s lives depended, and, in a way, their request was no great surprise. He had been asked to lead before when he had joined the outlaw Cimaroons, and now, just as then, he would not turn from the challenge.
‘You are certain?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ they said.
He gave a nod. ‘I thank you for this honour.’ Then he raised his right hand, presenting Dare and Harvie with the flat of his scarred palm. ‘I swear to fulfil the office you have bestowed on me to the best of my ability, so help me God.’
That dealt with, he smiled and spread his arms wide.
‘There is much to do. Let us meet in an hour’s time to discuss what is needed.’
Dare and Harvie mumbled their thanks and left, heads high.
He turned to Emme who seemed to be glowing with joy though he could not rightly understand why. Leading the colony could well be like leading the Spartans against the forces of Xerxes. They might have little hope.
‘Do I have your support?’ he asked.
She looked back at him with a smile that seemed to beckon him to ask for more.
‘Yes, Kit, you do.’
He moved to sit beside her.
‘May I kiss you?’
She moved towards him in answer, and he brushed his lips against hers, brim full of love for her, not merely aching desire. If only she could be his. If only she could accept him as he was. He spoke without thinking beyond what filled his mind.
‘If I could offer you a settled future here I would ask you to be my wife.’
She placed her hand on his arm, eyes bright with tears.
‘If only …’ She shook her head and then clung to him, words tumbling from her as if the chance to say them might never come again.
‘Ask me anyway. Ask me now, in this moment we can be sure about. We can never know what lies ahead.’
‘If I ask you …’ he breathed, halfway to kissing her helplessly, praying that she would not turn him away.
She answered anyway.
‘I would say yes, but you should know …’
Thank God. He poured his love into his kiss without waiting to hear more. Whatever she was about to say didn’t matter. Nothing could make him not love her.
As the kiss ended he looked at her: his Emme, sweetest of women, light of his heart.
‘You have told me enough. I pledge myself to you, body and soul, to love you and no other, and to marry you when the time is right – when we may rest without fear.’
She kissed his hands in return.
‘I pledge myself to you in like kind. I will love you till the day I die.’
‘Speak not of death but only of life. I shall love you every moment I have on this earth, more with every breath, deeper with every dream, further through all I may endure.’
She held him as if she might drown if she let him go.
‘What will become of us?’
He clasped her to him, nuzzling her neck, wanting to tell her not to worry, all would be well.
‘Whatever happens, we will be together.’
That was the truth.
Emme found Kit in the same room at the strong-house when she returned with fresh water for the meeting. He was bent over the large table studying a chart of some kind.
‘What are you looking at?’
He answered without raising his head.
‘It’s a map that I copied from one that Harriot had in London. I’m trying to think about what I’d like to be decided before he
aring opinions from everyone else.’
She set down the ewer and pewter cups she had brought, and moved over to him, thinking that she would like to slide her arm around his waist and that this might be acceptable since they had promised themselves to one another. Surely she could do that now, because he’d said that he loved her in words so beautiful she’d thought of nothing else through every minute since. She felt lighter than air, a galleon in the sky, her doubts cast aside like ballast thrown overboard. He loved her after all, despite his passion for the Cimaroon who had borne him a son; that was all in the past. In the time that was left to them he had promised himself to her. This was their new beginning, their new life in a new land. So why shouldn’t she take hold of him? She moved nearer and reached out, then hesitated with her hand only inches from his back. They were not yet properly betrothed. All he had promised was to marry her when the time was right, and when would that be? Wasn’t this only as much as Lord Hertford had promised before forcing himself upon her: a sop to gain her trust? Had her longing for Kit addled her wits? She drew back her hand, feeling her yearning for him like a wound, deep, hot and pounding inside her. But she must be cautious. He didn’t yet know the truth about her, despite her trying to tell him. It was as if he’d guessed and wanted to pass over the possibility. Even if he’d meant every word, his promise might fade once he knew she was not untouched. She wanted to talk, yet she must not trouble him now, only leave him to think, because the colony depended on his decisions being right.
Quietly she stepped away and gazed at the chart. What was it telling him? There was Roanoke with the City of Raleigh at the northernmost tip. She identified their domain easily as the only large island inside the outer ribbon of sand banks, and it was shaded deep pink, as were parts of the ribbon and a few other tiny islands, but the rest, including all of the great unexplored mainland interior, was edged blue and mostly blank. The sparse dots of native settlements were ranged along the shoreline, beside the sound or the broad rivers that fed into the great lagoon. Roanoke was on the edge of a vast wilderness and the island looked very small.