“You are certain the bastards won’t speak?” Catherine heard her father say with passion. His question received a low, mirthless chuckle from duMont. “My friend,” duMont intoned with mocking contempt, “You worry too much. My countrymen will not betray you in this matter…” “Will not betray me” Gibson spluttered indignantly, “I believe you mean they will not betray us! We are in this thing together” he finished angrily. Again, Catherine heard duMont’s short, contemptuous laugh: “No, M. Gibson, I mean they will not betray you. As far as France is concerned I have had no hand in this matter whatsoever. If you have been so careless as to implicate yourself with these French sailors, then you are of course at the mercy of the English navy on your own.” Catherine’s eyes widened in alarm: Her father implicated in some way with the French sailors Captain Knight had captured? Could such a thing be possible? Her mind raced back to the time of the ship’s capture, to the supper conversation where she suspected her uncle Matthews and Captain Knight shared some hidden knowledge about the French corvette. Had they uncovered information about her father’s involvement? Catherine searched her memory for details of that conversation – and of the one she had overheard on the carriage ride this morning. She strove to uncover the truth of the matter but there were too many blanks. Catherine’s reverie was broken by the sudden sound of a glass crashing and breaking with violence. “You bastard!” her father said with venom. “You arrogant French bastard! If you think for one minute that I will take the brunt of this then you are mistaken.”
A long pause followed William Gibson’s speech and Catherine held her breath anxiously. She leaned closer to the opening, fearing detection but determined to hear whatever came next. At last, the sound of duMont’s voice came once more, but this time there was no trace of mirth; “Let me make myself clear, monsieur. I have taken every precaution to ensure our endeavor is not detected – and I did so with the full support and assurances of my government. If, in your greed and haste you failed to make the necessary arrangements with our French captain, then I am afraid it will not go well for you – with either the French or the English. However,” he continued, a trace of sardonic humor returning to his voice, “If you were to offer me a suitable prize then I may be able to wield some influence, to shield you from any… unpleasantness.” This time it was Gibson’s laugh that carried through to Catherine from the verandah: “You needn’t worry” her father said carelessly. “You protect me in this matter and the girl is yours.”
Catherine jerked backward, blanching with fear. So, she was to be given to duMont. Even though she suspected such a thing would come to pass, to hear the words spoken out loud was still a shock. The horror of it filled Catherine with revulsion – to be considered of so little worth that her father would sell her to ensure the protection of some wicked enterprise. Her every instinct told her to run, to seek asylum anywhere but here, but Catherine knew that the seriousness of this matter was much greater than her own personal danger. Captain Knight had grave concerns about the French corvette’s activities; he had led his men into a fierce battle to find out its secrets. Men had fought – some to the death – to protect England from this threat. Now, Catherine may have stumbled upon the truth of what the French ship represented. Catherine ignored her fears; she knew what she must do. With great aplomb, she fixed an enormous smile on her face and stepped fearlessly through the door to face the two men.
“Father! M. duMont!” Catherine said with a graciousness she did not feel. The two men started at her interruption but duMont quickly masked his surprise with practiced ease. The lean, golden stranger rose from his seat and moved proprietarily towards Catherine; this time, Catherine did not flinch nor move away. She forced a sweet, steady smile to her face, completely at odds with the inner revulsion she felt at this man’s presence. “It would seem, Mademoiselle, that you are much more settled?” duMont said quizzically, noting the sharp contrast to her earlier behavior. “Indeed,” Catherine responded brightly, “I believe a good rest was in order. I feel quite myself again” she finished with false enthusiasm. Philippe duMont continued to search her face with curiosity but Catherine held fast under his scrutiny. “Shall I ring for dinner, Father, or have you already done so?” she asked with daughterly duty. Gibson also regarded his daughter with some surprise but chose to accept the change without much thought. “All is ready” he said in his brusque manner. “We dine immediately.” With that, Catherine graciously accepted duMont’s offered arm and allowed herself to be led into dinner, and into the greatest of danger.
Chapter XVIII
In the ensuing days in the stately home overlooking the sea, Catherine Gibson transformed from an ordinary young woman into an extremely capable spy. In the presence of her father and duMont she behaved with womanly generosity, gratifying their great egos with her attentiveness and admiration. In their absence, Catherine cast off her disguise and became once more an independent woman of great intellect and skill, determined to discover the truth about her father’s secret.
Each day when William Gibson left on business, Catherine quickly made her way to his private study. There in secret, she poured through financial ledgers and business correspondence seeking some clue as to the mystery of the French ship. Catherine found many examples of her father’s harsh and dishonest business dealings, but beyond that she found no evidence of collusion with the French. “There must be something more” she said aloud as she settled in a leather chair with one of his recent account books. She flipped carefully through the pages, looking for a name or business that seemed out of place. The only thing she found that struck her as a bit unusual was a hefty entry labeled “Dock.” To Catherine’s knowledge, such an exorbitant sum was well beyond what would be required to build or repair her father’s private dock – a simple affair situated at the water’s edge near the north end of the estate. Catherine scanned through another series of entries but something kept bringing her back to the ‘Dock’ entry. She read the details more carefully and then went to her father’s files where he kept receipts for his business. Catherine sorted through the pile until she found what she was looking for – a curiously vague receipt for building materials – with the same enormous price tag. Of greater interest, however, was the name of the supplier – Les Enterprises duMont. Catherine’s mind filled with possibilities – could this be the connection she sought? There was no way to get further information through her father without raising suspicion but there might be another way. Catherine quickly returned everything to order, making sure nothing was out of place. Then she swiftly left the study to prepare for her mission.
A short hour later, Catherine arrived unannounced at the home of Phillipe duMont. She had taken great care with her dress, choosing a blue silk gown that accentuated her eyes, as well as her figure, with its low cut neckline and empire waist. Her hair was arranged in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, creating an elegant – and suggestive – effect. Catherine paused a moment before alighting from the carriage. Welcoming any further advances from duMont was distasteful in every way – but Catherine could see no other way to gain access to the information she wanted. With firm resolve she gritted her teeth and made her way to the door.
To Catherine’s great surprise her summons was answered not by a servant but by duMont himself. Philippe’s eyes flashed surprise at finding Catherine before him but his smooth mask quickly returned. He leaned against the great carved door in casual attitude, his golden hair and green eyes set off by his white shirt, ornate brocade vest, and tight knee breeches. Catherine knew his appearance would thrill other women but she could feel only revulsion. Through enormous effort Catherine masked her true feelings, even as his hungry eyes took in every detail of her appearance. “Mademoiselle Gibson,” he said with a husky drawl, his eyes lingering on her breasts; “To what do I owe this great pleasure?” Catherine stifled her dismay and returned his look with a dazzling smile of her own. “My father is out today and I thought I might seek some… entertainment for myself. I hope
I do not intrude?” Philippe duMont’s eyes flashed wickedly at her words; he straightened and led Catherine inside, firmly closing the door behind her.
“You do not intrude, Miss Gibson. Indeed you are a most welcome visitor” duMont said, a dark smile playing about his lips. He paused in the entrance to his study and devoured her with his eyes once more. Catherine’s courage faltered a moment at his wolfish look but she quickly recovered and resumed the charade: “I am glad, M. duMont. You assured me that I should treat your home as my own and so… here I am” she finished coyly. A wicked glint flashed in his eyes but duMont said nothing in response, he simply led Catherine into the study. Catherine looked around in false admiration and was about to speak when she spotted movement from across the room. To her great astonishment, a furious looking Captain John Knight rose from a chair near the window and crossed to her in an instant.
Panic raced through Catherine’s mind! What could Captain Knight be doing here? And how much of her conversation with duMont had he overheard? As he stepped closer, Catherine knew the answer to the latter question. Knight looked down upon her with something akin to disgust on his face. His sharp eye took in her dress in one swift glance; Catherine was mortified by her appearance and what Knight must think in consequence. She struggled to remain calm while duMont watched their reunion with wry humor. “Miss Gibson” duMont said with slow deliberation, “Of course, you need no introduction to my guest.” Knight continued his dark look a moment longer then offered her a stiff bow in greeting; “Miss Gibson” he said “What a surprise to meet with you here.” “C...Captain” Catherine returned with effort, “How….. nice to see you again.”
Catherine looked up anxiously into Captain Knight’s familiar face, greedily taking in the sight of him once more. Her eyes swept over every feature; the curly waves of his jet black hair, the strong aquiline nose, the sharp cheekbones, and of course, those penetrating black eyes. A mixture of delight and agony flooded through her at being in the same room with him again. An uneasy silence descended as they both struggled with their inner thoughts. duMont alone among the three was enjoying the event, studying his two visitors with great interest. Catherine recognized the sharp look on duMont’s face and knew that she must act quickly or all would be lost. She lifted her head proudly and addressed the captain with all the haughty disdain she could muster; “And how is your ship, Captain? I trust you are enjoying the welcome relief of shore after such a tedious time at sea?” Captain Knight’s eyes widened in surprise at her conceited speech. Though he retained his composure, Catherine could see the muscle in his jaw working furiously as he chose his reply; “Indeed, Miss Gibson, it is a relief to have reached Jamaica… and to be free of the many burdens of the journey.” The words hit Catherine like a physical blow. Knight’s cruel speech was well deserved after her own hateful words and yet Catherine could not help but be hurt. She reminded herself that Knight did not know she was acting a part – that her appearance and actions with duMont were all in an effort to discover information to help the English – but that gave Catherine cold comfort as she stood there bearing the brunt of Knight’s animosity and lost regard.
“I am sure you and M. duMont have much to… discuss” Captain Knight said sharply. He turned to duMont once more and said flatly: “Your candor has been very helpful, monsieur. I hope you will continue to cooperate with His Majesty’s Navy in future.” Philippe duMont smiled wickedly at Knight before responding; “But of course, Captain! As a Frenchman enjoying the protection of a British colony, how could I do otherwise?” “Indeed.” Knight responded with barely concealed disgust. Then, with no word of farewell to either Catherine or duMont, Knight turned on his heel and left.
Catherine watched through the study window as Knight’s horse was brought forward by a groom. M. duMont moved to her side and also watched as Knight made his exit. “A very proud man, I should think” duMont said carefully; “Not a man one would want to… disappoint.” Catherine nodded her head in agreement, fighting back the tears that stung her eyes. She could not let down her mask of indifference, could not allow herself to lose this opportunity with duMont. Captain Knight might revile her, but she knew her cause was right. With a gaiety she did not feel she turned to her host and gave him another dazzling smile. “Enough about Captain Knight, Monsieur duMont. Come, let’s take a moment together on the verandah. I want to learn all about you.”
Chapter XIX
When Catherine returned to her father’s house she felt exhaustion greater than any she had ever known before. Her mind was in chaos and her heart was in torment. An afternoon spent in fawning admiration of someone as unpleasant as Philippe duMont was trial enough – but to be caught at the task by Captain Knight was torture. As the carriage came to rest at the entrance, the thought of entering the house and resuming the charade with her father was unbearable. Catherine asked the footman to tell her father she would walk in the gardens a while before joining him, then she set off wearily to seek a few moments solace.
The carefully manicured garden was one to be enjoyed from a distance as it offered visitors little in the way of restful repose. Catherine walked the paths but a short time before the heat of the place drove her to seek the cooler temperatures of the shore. She cut across the great manicured lawn and made her way to the sea’s edge. Here, the careful layout of the garden was no match for the power of the sea; nature held mastery over this land between, allowing only those things to grow and flourish that it chose. The naturalness of the spot was like a balm to Catherine’s bruised spirit. She stood looking out to sea with longing as a soft breeze stirred the maram grass underfoot. Waves lapped gently at the white sand and Catherine could not resist their cool invitation. She removed her silk slippers, tossing them carelessly aside, and stepped into the refreshing calm of the ocean. With no regard for the exquisite silk of her dress she remained at the water’s edge, salt water licking at her hem as she walked the length of the beach. Catherine breathed deeply, delighting in the freshness of the salt air and this quiet moment of freedom. Reaching the farthest limits of the shore line, Catherine paused a moment before turning to retrace her steps. Abruptly, some sixth sense told her she was not alone. Whirling around in alarm, Catherine was astonished to find the figure of Captain Knight striding towards her. For the second time that day, Catherine gaped in wonder.
“Captain Knight” she said breathlessly, “What are you doing here…” her words were cut off as Knight reached out and grabbed her by the arm. “You little fool!” he bit out harshly, “What are you playing at with a man like duMont” His dark eyes blazed fire and Catherine felt a tremor of fear run through her. She had never seen such a savage look on Knight’s face, had never heard such contempt in his voice. Catherine wrestled a moment to free herself but to no avail; her struggles only served to strengthen Knight’s hold and deepen the intense look of anger on his face. The ridiculousness of the situation made Catherine’s anger grow to match. For Captain Knight to challenge her actions as though he had some claim to her was a mockery. Catherine had been left to shift for herself in an impossible situation. She had no friend, no refuge, in this horrible situation, but instead of shrinking from her fears, Catherine was doing everything in her power to regain control. Knight might not know the truth behind her actions but that still did not give him the right to judge her. The strength of her convictions stiffened her pride; she offered no further resistance but stood firm, face upturned in challenge, ready for battle.
Captain Knight was taken aback at once by the fierce spirit of this extraordinary woman. She stood unflinching before him, prepared to meet his challenge with verve as great as his own. Knight had never met her equal. The realization took the sting out of Knight’s anger. He drew a long breath and finally released his hold on her arm; “I apologize, Miss Gibson. I have no right to accost you in this manner.” At her release, Catherine made no move to retreat. She rubbed her wrist absently then offered Knight a challenge of her own:
“Why have you come?
” she asked simply.
Knight did not speak for a long moment. He did not entirely understand his motives himself. What compelled him to seek her out after their disastrous encounter? He watched as the breeze touched tendrils of Catherine’s hair, teasing them gently around the planes of her face. She was a vision of loveliness, but he knew that was not what drew him to her time and again: it was her strength. Her courage and generosity knew no bounds and she always acted with bravery and selflessness. That was why her behavior at duMont’s had driven him mad. To see a woman of such character submit herself to the indecent attentions of a man like duMont was unbearable. At the time Knight could only feel bitter disappointment in Catherine but he soon came to realize something was wrong with the whole affair. There was no way a woman of her integrity would change so radically – she had to have another reason for being there.
“I came,” Knight said softly, “because I am worried about you. I think perhaps you may need an ally.”
Catherine’s breath caught at his words. She had been determined to keep her distance, to protect her heart from this man, but the thought of his help, of having someone who understood what she was up against, was too tempting to resist. “You are right, Captain” Catherine said slowly, “I do need your help. I think there are some things I should share with you.”
Knight led Catherine to a nearby stone promontory and the two settled next to each other. Haltingly at first, then with growing confidence, Catherine told Knight of the conversation she had overheard between her father and duMont, and of her suspicions about their involvement with the French ship. Knight listened earnestly but said little as she related her story. Catherine realized that she was only confirming details that the captain already suspected. “I decided to investigate the matter further,” she continued, “And so I have spent the past days examining my father’s papers in his absence. Today I found something that seemed at odds, a business entry related to the building of a dock.” Knight’s eyes widened at her words. Catherine noted his interest and continued; “The sum seemed completely out of proportion to the dock that currently exists on my father’s estate. I looked through his papers further and found a connection between this dock and M. duMont’s company, Les Enterprises duMont. It was duMont’s business that supplied the materials for this unknown construction.”
Commanding Heart Page 11