I nodded and accompanied the two men into the cottage. What I saw inside brought a host of unpleasant memories gushing back. The place reminded me of the mining children’s home, except that this shelter was clean and as well maintained as lack of money would allow.
The walls were of rough planks; small, bare windows allowed insufficient light to dispel the gloom of the overcast day. The floors were of earth, pounded hard by years of use. In one corner, a huge iron cooking stove gave off an overpowering heat into the already muggy afternoon. An enormous pot of what smelled like fish chowder bubbled on its top.
The only other furnishings were a big plank table and several rough benches. Shelves along one wall held a collection of pots and crockery. Nevertheless the little house was clean and neat.
A half dozen people sat silently around the room, faces sweat-streaked in the heat, eyes dull with sorrow. They, like Marie’s father, bore the gauntness and raggedness that branded them his confreres.
Barret went to a pale, obese woman seated near the stove and dropped on one knee before her. He took her work-raw hands in his and spoke softly. Tears filled her eyes at his words, and she lowered her head. Barret leaned forward and kissed the damp, bloated cheek. Then he arose and, speaking again, indicated me.
The woman looked up at me and put a hand self-consciously to her graying hair in an attempt to force a stray length into the bun at the back of her head. Her brown eyes were large and beautiful. Most likely she was Marie’s mother. In her youth, before poor food, too many children, and hard work had ravished her, she must have been quite lovely.
Suddenly I saw myself in the self-conscious, worn-out woman. But for Darcy and a rich, young husband, I might already be on the road to such a fate.
Impulsively I went to her, knelt as Barret had, and took her hands in mine. “Tell her I’m sorry, so very sorry to hear of her loss, Barret,” I begged, looking up at her. “Tell her I was Marie’s friend, and that I shall miss her deeply.”
****
At the insistence of Marie’s parents, we ate a little of the fish stew, went into the other room to view the pine box that contained Marie’s remains, said a prayer for her immortal soul, and left.
“Those people are remarkable,” I said as we returned to Lucifer, waiting in the dooryard. “In spite of their pain and loss, they welcomed us and extended the best of their hospitality.”
“Yes. They accepted me when I first came to this valley as a ragged teenager.” Barret surprised me with his answer. “I lived with them between voyages until I became a captain and could afford lodgings at the tavern. I took up space they needed, but they adamantly denied it. When I had a bit of money, I tried to repay their kindness.” He paused beside the stallion and stood looking pensively back at the shanty. “Michel refused. He’s a proud man. All I could do for the family was get Marie a job as lady’s maid at Peacock House. And look what that led to. I wouldn’t blame her family if they turned against me. But as you see, true to form, they have only warmth and love in their hearts. Sweet Jesus, how I’d like to get my hands about the throat of the man who killed that girl as surely as if he’d strangled her!” He slammed a fist into the open palm of his other hand, his face tensing with rage.
Then, cupping his hands to form a stirrup, he held them down beside the horse. “Put your foot in my hand. I’ll hoist you aboard. You’ll ride back to Peacock House, and I’ll walk. I don’t think our being together on Lucifer again would be wise. He could very well carry us both into damnation.”
I paused, wanting to be able to refute his words, to tell him I could ride to Hades and back with him on the stallion and it would mean nothing to me. But the words stuck in my throat.
I put my booted foot into his waiting hands, caught a handful of mane in my fingers, and vaulted upward as he lifted me.
Chapter Nine
For the next three weeks, I spent most of my time within the walls of Peacock House. Colin recovered steadily, but he needed care, and I was determined to be the person who administered it. He had become my dearest and most trusted friend.
On the day Colin planned to return to work, the Winsome Witch, the vessel whose construction he’d been overseeing when he was injured, was scheduled for launching. Abraham, proud of this fine, new vessel, declared it to be a worthy sister for the graceful Linnet and the beautiful Maris Stella. To mark the occasion, he decreed there would be a gala launching celebration in the afternoon. The entire family was expected to attend. Declaring the heat had given her a nasty headache, Caroline begged off.
When the carriage carrying Gram and myself arrived at the slip, I saw long tables laden with food and drink laid out in preparation for the festivities. The laughter and eager anticipation on the faces of the workers and their families told me this largesse was intended for their enjoyment once the Winsome Witch was safely in the water.
Abraham made a speech with Colin alone by his side. Randall was again in the provincial capital, with Barret Madison accompanying him. The captain had gone to learn the specifics of his January voyage to London. Jared Fletcher, it appeared, had not been asked to stand in for his commodore. In fact, he didn’t appear to be present at the gathering.
“A beautiful ship deserves to be anointed by a beautiful woman,” Abraham finished his speech, beaming good-naturedly down upon the crowd from a platform erected at the ship’s bow. “I therefore call upon my daughter-in-law to christen her the Winsome Witch.”
As I was helped from the carriage and led to join my husband and his father, shouts and cheers went up from the crowd. When I passed among the people, I glimpsed hard, bitter hatred in many of the eyes above the smiling mouths. These people were as adept at role playing as Abraham Douglas. Today he might slap shoulders and banter with them, but they weren’t deceived. Tomorrow he might as easily seize their homes or dismiss them from his service.
Later, Gram and I sat beneath a spreading maple to one side of the shipyard and watched the festivities. The Winsome Witch floated majestically in the calm river water, a hot, late summer sun beating down on her freshly painted decks. With fiddle playing and dancing and much eating and drinking, the party in her honor had been continuing for over two hours.
Eating our favorite foods as we watched the festivities, Gram and I were enjoying ourselves. Colin, acting as host with his father, was too busy to join us. The thought that he might overdo, in his weakened physical condition, cast the only shadow in an otherwise happy afternoon.
Ben Smith, the congenial manager of Abraham’s mercantile, joined Gram and me. Smartly dressed in a white shirt and a vest, his cravat and trousers of a summer shade of cream, he wore a straw hat on his white hair and carried a frock coat over his arm. As he sat down by Gram, he mopped his perspiring face with a snowy handkerchief.
“Dickens of a hot day, Ida.” I was surprised to hear him address her familiarly. “Too hot for an old man like me. Mrs. Douglas…” He turned to me. “You’re looking pretty as a picture.”
“Thank you,” I replied.
I liked Ben Smith, and as I glanced over at him, I realized he must have been a handsome, powerfully built man in his youth. Tall and barrel-chested, he still cut a fine figure.
“Who’s old?” Gram demanded. “You and I are of an age together, Benjamin Smith, as you well know, and I certainly don’t consider myself old.”
“Sorry, my dear.” Ben took her hand and, to my amused delight, raised it gallantly to his lips. “I’d never think such a thing of one as lovely as yourself.”
“Did you ever hear such stuff and nonsense, Starr?” Gram turned to me, but I saw she was basking in his attention. “Never trust an Irishman, my girl. They’ve all kissed the Blarney Stone. “But,” she continued more gently, “this one is special. Did you know he founded this town over forty years ago?”
“I thought Abraham had.” I was astonished.
“That’s a natural assumption,” Gram grunted. “My son does appear to be the beginning and end of everything in this va
lley. No, my dear, Abraham didn’t settle here first. Nor did he establish a trading post for the Indians and the French Acadian refugees. It was this gentleman who first tied his trading ship to a huge tree overhanging a deep pool in the river; it was this gentleman who christened this village Pine in honor of the mighty and tenacious old tree that first held him fast to this place; and it was this gentleman who built the first store and sponsored the first English settlers. Starr, before you sits the true father of this village. And if it weren’t for my son’s ruthlessness and money-grubbing ways, Ben Smith would be magistrate and chief entrepreneur here yet.”
“Ida, Ida…” Ben Smith tried to hush her, but she would not be stilled.
“My son came here after his father’s death. With the money my Josh had made privateering during the war of 1812, Abe proceeded to buy up everything he could. He even persuaded the governor to take the post of magistrate from Ben and give it to him. Then, with the power of the law behind him and money in his pocket, he proceeded to gobble up everything in his path.”
“Ida, please!” Ben tried to stop her.
“Hush, Ben. The girl has a right to know what she’s married into.” The old lady waved aside his protests and continued, “Finally he controlled almost everything in the valley, from shipbuilding to lumbering to the fisheries. Almost everything, that is, save Ben’s fine mercantile. As luck would have it, Ben’s wife fell ill about that time. Ben wanted her to have the best care, so he shipped her off to England. On a doctor’s advice, he later sent her to an expensive clinic in Switzerland, where she lingered for months before she passed away. By that time Ben had been forced to borrow heavily from Abe. When Julia died, my son foreclosed on Ben’s store. Thus, he had it all.”
“Ida, enough!” This time Bed was adamant. “Abe is the child’s father-in-law. I won’t allow you to further defame him before her.”
“I’m only speaking the truth, and you know it, Benjamin Smith!” Ida Douglas’s dark eyes snapped fire. “She must know what manner of man may someday be grandfather to her children.”
Then her tone moderated, her voice becoming old and weary. “Fetch me a cup of that punch, will you, Ben, my dear? And slip into it a dram of that rum Abe pretends he doesn’t know Burt and Harry are spreading about.”
“Ida, you’re a wicked woman.” Ben laughed as he rose with difficulty. “There’s no one quite like you. I’ll be right back.”
I was silent after he’d gone, reflecting on what I’d learned. Was Ben Smith another enemy? Surely, if all Gram had just told me was true, he had good reason to hate my father-in-law.
“Starr,” Gram interrupted my musings, “Would you be a good girl and do a small errand for me? I have a sharp bit of indigestion. At home, on my bureau, you’ll find a flask of a remedy an Indian once gave me for such a malady. Fetch it for me, will you?”
“Of course, Gram.” I scrambled to my feet. “Are you sure that’s all I can do for you? Would you like me to send the carriage to fetch you?”
“Of course not!” Gram dismissed me with a flutter of a wrinkled hand. “I’m enjoying myself. And I’ve learned, over years of living in this country, if an Indian remedy can’t help, nothing can. Now run along, that’s a good girl.”
Obediently I started off. She and Ben Smith wanted a little time alone together, I was sure. I smiled to myself.
****
Anxious to return to the festivities, I hurried to the house and on soft-soled slippers dashed up the foot-hushing carpeted stairs and down the hallway to the room which, in my haste, I thought was Gram’s.
I pushed open the door. And froze. Jared Fletcher, stark naked, lay stretched out on the bed. The woman kneeling beside him in a diaphanous silver-gray robe, her shining black hair forming a waist-length halo about her white shoulders, was Caroline Douglas. I had mistakenly entered her room, not Gram’s.
In the shade-darkened room the man lay clutching the spools at the top of the bed while Colin’s sister-in-law massaged a light, glistening oil over his chest with slender, long-nailed fingers. A pungent aroma of incense rose from a delicate, thinly smoking silver disc on the dressing table. Its heady fragrance made me giddy. I was dreaming. This couldn’t be reality.
The shaft of light I’d let in startled the couple. Caroline whirled toward me, her gauzy wrapper spreading out about her like a spider’s web. Eyes blazing, she leaped to her feet to confront me. Jared sat up, drawing a corner of the sheet about his hips.
“Why, you interfering piece of baggage!” my sister-in-law hissed. “Prying, filthy, gutter trash!”
With a snarl of rage, she flew at me. I dodged and managed to escape from the room before she could reach me.
Heart pounding, I raced down the stairs and was about to rush out of the house when I tripped on a scatter rug and fell headlong on the polished foyer floor. I tried to scramble to my feet, but I discovered I’d turned my ankle.
I heard someone rushing down the stairs behind me and turned to see Jared Fletcher, wearing only breeches, descending.
“Starr, it’s all right. No one’s going to hurt you.” He dropped on one knee beside me and placed a hand on my arm.
He helped me to my feet and supported me as I hobbled beside him into the parlor, where he seated us both on the settee.
“I’m sorry you had to witness what you just did,” he said, looking into my eyes. “In spite of the fact you’re a married woman, you’re little more than a child. It will be difficult to explain. You’re not old enough to understand the desperation of impossible love.”
“Are you saying you love Caroline?” I rubbed my throbbing ankle.
“Yes.” He wet his lips and lowered his gaze to his bare feet. “Randall and Caroline aren’t in love. They married under pressure from both their fathers, who’d struck a deal. Abe would bail Caroline’s father, Lord Newton, out from under his gambling debts in exchange for Caroline marrying his son and producing an heir.”
“That’s no excuse—”
He cut me off. “Do you think Caroline’s alone in seeking ways to assuage her unhappiness?” His tone and expression hardened. “Her husband turned to alcohol and other women early in their marriage in an attempt to ease his misery. Caroline remained faithful and suffered for years, until she and I met. Starr, I’m asking you to try to understand, not forgive or accept.”
He looked at me with beseeching eyes. When I didn’t reply, he arose and went to stare out the window. None of the appeal of his earthy virility escaped me in those moments. Reluctantly, I had to admit I could somewhat appreciate what Caroline’s feelings might be for the handsome master mariner, as an image of Barret Madison flooded my thoughts.
“Perhaps I was in error when I said you wouldn’t understand,” he said, after a static hiatus punctuated only by the ticking of a clock on the mantel. “After all, you, like Caroline, have found solace in the company of one of your father-in-law’s captains.”
“Don’t be absurd!” I cried, but the accusation had made my heart pound and sweat break out over my body. Had he read my mind?
“Don’t try to feign innocence,” he said, turning to me, his brown eyes narrowing. “People gossip, and while they might fear to suggest to Abraham Douglas that his daughter-in-law has taken his commodore as a lover, they don’t hesitate to tell the man who’s second in command of the Douglas fleet.”
“And that’s all it is…gossip!” I snapped.
“Oh, I think not.” His tone became smoothly menacing. “I’ve seen the way Barret looks at you, the way you preen whenever he’s about. You understand the feelings Caroline and I have for each other and appreciate the need for none of us to speak out of turn.” He walked slowly toward the door. “Now, I’m going upstairs to finish dressing and then to the launching party. I have to put in an appearance in spite of the fact that Abraham chose not to include me in the ceremonies. Rest your ankle. It will feel better shortly. And while you’re resting, consider all I’ve said and do as wisdom dictates. I wouldn’t want to be
forced to tell Colin his beautiful little bride is his best friend’s lover.”
He bowed in my direction, then straightened and went out, letting the door slam behind him. The pain in my soul was much worse than the ache in my ankle. I must keep Caroline’s duplicity from my brotherly friend Randall or risk losing the husband I had come to love with a deep and lasting affection.
****
Feeling heartsick, I hobbled back to the party with Gram’s indigestion medicine. It had taken courage for me to go back upstairs, pass Caroline’s closed door, and proceed to Ida Douglas’s room for the small bottle, but I had. Returning without it would have aroused questions I couldn’t answer. When I resumed my place beside her on the grass and handed her the flask, she looked at me sharply.
“What is it, child? What’s happened? You’re white as a sheet.”
“I twisted my ankle. It’s aching a bit.”
Gram’s keen, dark eyes told me she wasn’t satisfied with my explanation. When she returned her attention to Ben Smith, I breathed a sigh of relief. At least for the present she wasn’t going to question me further.
I was spreading my gown out about me when a splash of something ice cold hit my bare shoulders and trickled down my back. Whirling and coming to my feet, I faced my smirking sister-in-law, an empty punch glass in her hand.
“You witch!”
I sprang at her, taking her to the ground with me as I’d once attacked Sarah in the mining hostelry. In a split second, we were rolling about on the grass, kicking, clawing, and slapping as Caroline shrieked for help.
Then I was being dragged to my feet as a pair of big hands seized my shoulders.
“What in God’s name do you think you’re doing!” Abraham Douglas’s face was crimson with outrage as he held me before him. “How dare you humiliate my family before the entire village!”
“She attacked me, Father!” Caroline sobbed as Jared Fletcher helped her to her feet. “For no reason!”
Shadows of Love Page 16