Cursing the weakness of flesh and the power of love, she covered her eyes and tried to swallow the sob that choked her.
~ ~ ~
She lost count of the days. At times it seemed she had arrived in the cellar only yesterday. At other times it seemed she had lived her entire existence hidden here. Day and night blended and lost meaning.
When a rough hand shook her, she came awake with a sense of outrage that Humphershire’s servant dared to touch her. Then her sluggish mind cleared and anxiety overtook her. Something finally was happening.
“Take a good look,” the rogue said, pulling her upright on the cot.
He thrust a candle near her face and she blinked and shielded her eyes until he jerked her arm down. Then she heard a gruff voice at the top of the cellar stairs and her eyes flew open.
“Pa! Is it you?” Slapping aside the hand with the candle, she leaned forward, straining to see through the murky shadows.
“Aye, Mite. ‘Tis yer sorry father.” The candle illuminated her face for his eyes, but she could not see him, only a shadow that straightened at the top of the cellar stairs. “I’ll go without resistance,” Beau Billy growled. “Now release me daughter as ye vowed.”
“Not until after the trial,” Humphershire murmured. Blu heard the smile in his voice.
They dragged her father away and the cellar door slammed shut.
More days passed. Blu spent them in a frenzy of anxiety. She paced the cellar floor. She kicked the sparse furnishings. She threw her meal tray at the wall, attacked Humphershire’s servant with her fingernails. In the end, it came to naught. All she could do was wait.
At last, after what seemed an endless passage of time, Humphershire came to her. This time, she noticed he left the cellar door ajar, but she didn’t dash for it, thinking the ploy a ruse. As always, he flicked his handkerchief over the stool top before he seated himself and leaned on his cane.
“Billy Morgan’s trial was a sensation,” he informed her pleasantly, watching her expression. “What a pity you missed the excitement. I believe I can fairly claim your father has achieved celebrity. For tuppence one can buy a shocking account of his life and deeds. The pamphlets are being hawked on every corner. Some of the accounts may even be true.” He shrugged and smiled.
“He was sentenced to hang,” she stated in a dull voice. It was not a question.
“Indeed. The mob would have torn the judge to pieces had he decided any differently. I fear the populace has worked themselves into a frenzy on this very important issue. Events are progressing nicely.”
“Have they hanged him yet?”
“Tsk, tsk, my dear. Have you forgotten that you and I have a personal score to settle?” His dark heavy-lidded eyes glittered with pleasure. “I would not dream of denying you witness to the sad event. I should think watching your father hang will even our score fairly. At present Beau Billy Morgan is in Newgate awaiting his final ride.”
“You pig.” She stared at him, wanting to smash his smiling face. “As you wish me to witness the hanging, I assume you don’t plan to murder me as well?”
“Oh dear me, no.” He smiled. “Outright murder is so inconvenient, don’t you agree? Someone must perform the deed, then the body must be concealed, a more difficult task than one might imagine. Dead bodies have an unpleasant habit of turning up at disadvantageous moments. Moreover, Lady Paget would insist on an inquiry. I would not be able to rest nights, wondering if the trail would eventually lead to my door. Already your future brother, His Grace, is creating difficulties, leveling suspicions on myself as well as others. No, Miss Morgan, murder would be entirely too inconvenient as well as unnecessary.”
Blu darted a glance at the open cellar door. “Are you suggesting I am free to walk out of here?”
“Of course. A carriage is waiting to return you to Paget House.”
“You bastard son of a dog’s whore! You will hang for what you have done!”
Humphershire raised a hand and inspected his gloves. “Oh, I think not, Miss Morgan. It occurred to me that you might rush to the authorities if I released you, then I recalled your intelligence and concluded you would do nothing so rash.”
She glanced again at the door, eager to depart. But his words intrigued. “What are you suggesting? That I ignore being abducted and held against my will?”
“To explain this small detainment would be rather awkward, would it not? Aside from the embarrassment to your virtue—one must consider that your ruin will be assumed—an explanation would involve Lady Katherine, I should think. The authorities would be obliged to inquire why Lady Katherine claimed a pirate’s by-blow as her niece when she has no nieces. An interesting bit of information, don’t you agree? But of course you knew Lady Katherine had no nieces. But... perhaps she had a daughter no one suspected.”
Blue’s eyes narrowed, otherwise she did not react to his speculation.
He smiled. “For the sake of this discussion, we shall assume Lady Katherine has strong personal reasons for claiming you as her niece. Reasons, need I add, that are perhaps scandalous and best shielded from public view. Certainly, we can assume the lady does not wish those reasons exposed. Would you agree?” His smile was ugly. “Lady Katherine’s reputation would hardly survive an inquiry into your origins, I think. Plus, once the authorities revealed your relationship to Beau Billy Morgan, I rather imagine polite society would respond with justifiable outrage. I doubt they would soon forgive Lady Katherine for foisting a barbarian on them or for deceiving them as to your identity and status. No one relishes being played as a fool, Miss Morgan.”
“Do you dare suggest that I forget what you have done? That you used me to betray my father?” she asked incredulously. “Do you imagine we will encounter one another at balls or assemblies and bow and nod as if nothing ever passed between us?”
“Precisely. I think that better than raising a scandal which will stain your reputation beyond redemption and ruin Lady Katherine. No, my dear Miss Morgan. Once you have had time to reflect, I am confident you will concede the matter should end here. Having destroyed one parent, you surely will not rush to destroy the other.”
“Oh my God,” Blu whispered. At once she grasped he was telling the truth. Unraveling the tale publicly would destroy Lady Katherine Paget utterly. Humphershire had naught to fear from the authorities; Blu could say nothing.
Standing, he glanced at her, sitting collapsed on the cot, her face stunned by comprehension.
“The hanging is scheduled in ten days. Naturally, you will wish to visit your father in Newgate. I implore you to do so. I am well aware Beau Billy Morgan has a cadre of unpleasant accomplices. Thus I wish him to see for himself that you are freed and unharmed, that I have kept my end of the bargain.”
“You rat bastard!” Her powerlessness enraged her. With all her spirit, she longed for a sword. She would have aired his black ribs without a moment’s hesitation. She would have sliced him into little pieces and would have done so with consummate pleasure.
“There is something you have not considered,” she said when she brought her voice under control. When he raised an eyebrow, her features hardened. “You are correct to believe you need not fear the authorities,” she said between her teeth. “But do not sleep too soundly in your bed, Lord Humphershire. For I promise you, I, too, have friends. My father and I shall be avenged.”
Smiling, he bowed from the waist and indicated the staircase with a flourish of his wrist. “It’s a lovely melting day. One hears predictions of an early spring this year.”
She returned a smile that did not reach her eyes. “I see you do not believe me. I leave you with this thought, my lord: not everyone considers murder an inconvenience. They don’t where I grew up.” Gathering her skirts, Blu ran up the staircase and through the derelict rooms that lay beyond the cellar door. After dashing outside into the welcome winter sunshine, she verified the waiting carriage, then glanced back at the house which had served as her prison for several weeks.
The house was abandoned, dangerously in need of repair. Several houses fronting the lane were in like state. A shudder passed down Blu’s spine as she regarded the sagging roof and leaning walls. If the house had collapsed while she was being held in the cellar...
Turning away, she climbed into the carriage unassisted and shouted for the coachman to take her to Paget House. She longed for a bath and for her family. And for Thomas. Dear God, she longed for Thomas.
When she spied his carriage in Grosvenor Square, she hesitated before jumping from the carriage. First she steeled her heart and mind, pressing her love into a shadowy corner. Only then did she step down and run to the door.
~ ~ ~
They were waiting for her, and they fell on her with embraces and kisses, touching her as if they could not believe she had returned to them whole. Cecile and Aunt Tremble wept tears of happiness and clung to her hands.
“We were so afraid the scoundrels would murder you most foul,” Aunt Tremble cried before she fell to the carpet in a faint.
Even Isabelle was present. “Monsieur say this be the most likely day the rogues release you.” She pressed Blu to her enormous bosom in a fierce embrace. “My friends are so very sorry they did not help you. They did not know.”
“Oh Blusette!” Cecile caught her hand and pressed it to her cheek. Purplish circles bruised her eyes. “I have never been so worried in my life!” Exhausted tears spilled from her lashes. “Thank God you are home and safe!”
There were even tears in Lady Katherine’s eyes.
Monsieur embraced her, holding her to his thin body in a crushing hug. Mouton clasped her by the shoulders and stared into her eyes, his teeth exposed in a huge grin.
Then she raised her eyes to Thomas. She saw in his eyes, in the deep lines carving his mouth, that her ordeal had also been his.
“For heaven’s sake, Edward, welcome Blusette home,” Cecile said, laughing through her tears. “You wouldn’t know it from the way he’s standing there, Blusette, but no one has been more anxious than Edward. He and Mouton have cracked heads from here to Gravesend, searching for you. Like the rest of us, he hasn’t slept, hasn’t eaten.”
While everyone watched, they moved toward one another like statues come awkwardly to life. Only Lady Katherine was near enough to see their suffering and she turned her head away from silent messages too private and too painful to observe.
Blu touched her cheek to his, the gesture stiff and wooden. Then Thomas raised his hands and clasped her shoulders in a rough grip. His touch shot arrows of fire through her body and she gasped and shuddered beneath his fingertips. His smoky eyes penetrated her heart.
“Who was it?” he demanded in a gruff voice.
“Lord Milton Humphershire.”
Instantly Thomas’s eyes turned to black ice. He raised his head and exchanged a long glance with Mouton. Mouton’s body swelled and the muscles beneath his waistcoat strained hard against the material. In that glance, Blu saw she had promised true. She would be avenged.
Once she would have insisted on dispatching Humphershire herself. But such a brash act belonged to another lifetime. Now, content in the knowledge Humphershire would pay for his offense, what she wanted most was a hot tub, clean clothes, then a coach to carry her to Newgate Prison.
20
Blu dressed with care for her visit to Newgate. She piled her hair high, securing the arrangement with a dressing of beef marrow, veal fat, nut oil, and vanilla, the whole of which was scented by oil of roses. The perfume she chose was Romane, especially blended for her by Juan Floris in his fashionable shop on Jermyn Street. Her gown was too thin and light for the February chill, but she wanted her father to see her in the silks he had so often imagined.
When she stepped back from the mirror she had become a vision of England’s ideal: a porcelain figurine floating in sapphire silk, her glossy curls dressed and lightly powdered, her cheeks softly rouged, a portrait of delicate grace.
She stared into the glass, then covered her face in her hands and drew a long shuddering breath. She had changed so much. Moisture glistened in her eyes and she felt like weeping.
But she was Beau Billy’s daughter—that had not changed, praise be to God—and today she felt the force of the Morgan side of her heritage. Weeping was not allowed.
Squaring her shoulders, she set her mouth, gave her hair a final pat before she adjusted her hat to a fashionable angle, then she accepted her velvet cape from her new maid and shouted for Monsieur and Mouton, who would accompany her.
When the carriage stopped at the foot of Holborn Street, she gripped Monsieur’s gloved hand and bit her lips.
“He will hang and it is my fault,” she said in a low voice. The forbidding stone walls of Newgate Prison rose just outside the carriage window. That Beau Billy should end behind bars as thick as a man’s wrist broke her heart. He who had commanded the seas, who had known the freedom of sun and sand and an island kingdom.
Monsieur rubbed the cold from her fingers. “Mr. Morgan knew the risk, Blusette.” His gaze mourned his friend’s fate, but his tone was matter-of-fact.
“Billy does not blame you,” Mouton signaled.
“How does he fare?” she asked, her gaze riveted on the stone walls. Monsieur and Mouton had visited Beau Billy each day since the trial. She had already assured herself as to her father’s health.
“We did what we could,” Monsieur repeated. “I paid the garnish and the fee for easement of irons. He isn’t fettered now. I paid the cellarmen for candles and coal, and the bedmaker, the turnkey, and the gatekeeper’s wife. He has what comforts are possible.”
She nodded, then stepped from the carriage and lifted her head high.
They entered the gate and paid the visitor’s fee, then a silent turnkey led them upstairs to the Gigger, a spacious filthy hall where visitors were received. Blu held her skirts off the oak floor and the pitch that oozed from the cracks. Nearly one hundred people thronged the hall. She saw men whose rich clothing identified them as noblemen, she saw whores, children, men whose faces marked them for the gallows. The air was sour, the only ventilation being the foul language that rose in gusts. A drunk reeled across her path. A whore serviced a client against the back wall. A dirty hand snatched at her cape. After slapping away the hand, Blu paused and, frowning, she scanned the company.
At first she did not recognize him even though Monsieur had warned her the authorities refused Beau Billy any grooming utensils. They wanted him to look his role when old Jack Ketch dropped the noose around his throat. Black hair fell to her father’s shoulders, a wild beard tangled across his lower face. He wore canvas breeches and a soiled shirt open to the waist. If she had not spied the gold disk lying against his chest, she might have passed without recognizing him.
“Pa!” Grabbing up her skirts, she ran forward with a joyous shout. Before she flung herself in his arms, she had an instant to note the question lifting his heavy eyebrows. He didn’t recognize her either. Then he did.
His arms clasped her, crushing her to him, and he buried his face in her rose-scented hair when her hat fell off.
To her shame, Blu was immediately conscious of his unwashed smell. Of his soiled clothing and unkempt hair and beard. These were things she had never noticed before. It was not until she looked into his fine dark eyes and saw his love that her heart balanced and she forgot everything but her love for him.
“God’s teeth, gel! Let me look at ye!” Holding her away from him, he scanned her up and down, his chest swelling with pride. “This here be me daughter,” he said grandly to a black-toothed man standing behind him. “Ah Mite. ‘Twas worth any price to see ye a lady.” The eyes he raised to Mouton glistened with unashamed moisture. “She be all ye said and more. Words cannot tell it true.”
“Oh Pa.” Despite her vow, despite clenching her hands until they ached inside her gloves, tears welled in Blu’s eyes and hung on her lashes. “I won’t let them hang you, I swear it!”
“What? Me daughter has
wet eyes?” Having conquered his own damp gaze, he scowled and brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Remember who ye are, gel.” Taking her arm, watching her proudly from the corner of his eye, Beau Billy led them to the taproom. Monsieur paid a shilling six for each of them and they entered a smoky noisy hall that reeked of liquor, vomit, and desperation.
“Brown Bastard for me, Sherry Sack for the lady,” Beau Billy said. His growl lingered lovingly on the word ‘lady.’ “Me mates will have Ipocras and Alicant.”
When the wench brought the round, Monsieur and Mouton exchanged a glance and discreetly withdrew, leaving Blu alone with her father.
“Yer so beautiful, Mite. Ye fair take a bloke’s breath away. Yer mam is to be congratulated.”
“Are they treating you well?” She gripped his hand across the barrel top that served as a table.
He shrugged and the gold disk rose and fell upon his chest. “No worse than expected.” A grin opened in the midst of his beard. “Seems me arrival were heralded wide and far. Me reputation gained some in the process.” He waved a hand. “The blackest rogue in the place gives way to me merest glance.”
When he laughed, the sound was so rich and vibrant and filled with life that fresh tears collected in Blu’s eyes. She dashed them with an angry motion.
“‘Tis my fault,” she whispered. “I should have—”
“Nay,” he objected sharply, cutting her off. “‘Tis worth the hemp, gel, to put me eyes on ye once again. To see ye like this, a fine and true lady.” He pressed her fingers hard. “‘Tis folly to blame yerself, Blu. ‘Twas always a rope for the likes of me. Yer mam will tell ye so. So will Monsieur or Mouton or any bloke.” He shrugged. “So tell me of ye. I heard the tale from Mouton and Monsieur, but I wish to savor it from yer own lips.” When she finished the story of her transformation, he nodded with pleasure. “Has yer mam found ye a rich husband?”
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