I closed the door behind me and turned to Corrie with a smile. The smile died on my lips when I saw her face. Her lips were parted. Her eyes were wide with terror. I heard footsteps and turned to see Burke moving purposefully "down the hall toward us.
"Relax, Corrie!" I whispered urgently. "Don't let him see you're afraid. Don't let him suspect we have anything to hide!"
"May I ask what you're doing?" Burke growled.
"You may," I replied coldly, "but I'm not certain you'll receive an answer. I don't care for your tone, Burke."
"What were you doing down there!"
I gazed at him with haughty disdain, the mistress of the house confronting an impudent servant. Burke stood his ground, tall and sinister in his old black suit, his pock-marked face tight with suspicion. The black-brown eyes glowered at me with fierce animosity, and I was so nervous I thought my knees might give way, but somehow I managed to maintain my hauteur.
"I went down to inspect the wines," I said in a voice like ice. "Nicholas will be returning any day now, and I want to have something special for his return. I intend to confer with Pierre about the meal, too. You object?"
"You have no business down there!"
"I happen to be mistress of the house, Burke. I'll thank you to keep that in mind."
Burke glared at me, longing to vent his hostility in a spew of venomous insults, but he didn't quite dare, not at this point. Instead, he turned to Come, his mouth tightening into a thin, vicious line. Pewter-gray hair covering his skull in short-clipped locks, heavy, dark brows lowered menacingly, he took a step toward her.
"What are you doing here, nigger!"
Corrie moved back, utterly terrified and unable to conceal it. "I—I'se with Miz Marietta—" she stammered.
"What are you hiding? You're hiding something, I can tell. You steal something while you were down there?"
"How dare you!" I cried.
Burke paid no attention to me. "Come here, nigger! Several bottles of wine have disappeared lately. You got a bottle under your skirt? You been sneaking down there and stealing it, haven't you!"
Corrie backed against the wall, shaking her head back and forth, tears of terror welling in her eyes. Burke snarled and started to seize her arm, and it was then that I slammed my palm across his face, slapping him so hard that his head snapped back. He was stunned, as, indeed, I was myself. I had acted instinctively, without thinking, and as his pock-marked cheek burned bright pink I drew myself up and gazed at him with cool sapphire eyes.
"Don't you ever make such an accusation again, Burke," I said. "Corrie is my servant, not under your supervision at all. If the wine is missing, I suggest you question the housekeeper. More than likely she ran out of rum."
"You're going to be sorry for that," he promised. His voice was a guttural rasp.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You're worse than the last one. She put on airs, too, thought she was better 'n anyone else, thought she had him wrapped around her little finger, yeah, but she got hers. You'll get yours, too."
"Would you care to repeat those words when Red Nick returns?"
Burke made no reply. He had gone too far, he knew that, but he longed to go farther still. Had he dared, he would have torn into me with both fists, beating me to a pulp with the greatest satisfaction. For a moment, as he stood there rubbing his cheek, I thought he might actually do so, and I braced myself for the assault, determined to fight like a tigress. He hesitated, dark eyes glittering. Then he muttered a curse and turned and went back down the hall. I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Come along, Corrie," I said.
She was still frightened, too frightened to speak. She shook her head again and brushed the tears from her cheeks, making a valiant effort to pull herself together. I took her hand and squeezed it, and after a moment or so she managed a feeble smile. I was still shaken myself by the close call. My palm stung. Burke had been hostile to me from the beginning, but now he had become an extremely dangerous enemy. We were going to have to be even more careful.
"Are you all right now?" I asked.
Corrie nodded. "I—I wasn't going to let him look under my skirt, Miz Marietta. I was going to kick him hard."
"He didn't find out anything, Corrie. That's all that matters."
"He's going to have his eye on us."
"I know. We'll worry about that later. Now we'd better get up to the bedroom and hide this beef. It's terribly heavy."
We went upstairs and removed the aprons and I pushed them under the bed and sat down wearily. I was still weary that afternoon when I met Em on the lawn in front of Tremayne's cottage. Cleeve and several of the men were milling around in front of the barracks, idly watching us as we strolled past the flower beds and fountains. Em had washed her hair during the morning. It tumbled about her shoulders in lustrous chestnut waves that gleamed in the sunlight with rich highlights. She was wearing a poppy-red silk frock with full skirt, puffed sleeves that fell off the shoulders, and a bodice cut provocatively low. Her hazel eyes were grave as I told her about the beef and our encounter with Burke.
"Jesus, luv," she said, "you must have been petrified."
"I was. Poor Corrie almost fainted."
"Is he suspicious?"
"He's suspicious by nature," I told her. "I don't think he suspects what we've been up to, but he's going to be watching me very closely, Em. I've no doubt he's behind one of the windows, watching right now."
"No need to panic, luv. In a couple of days we should be long gone."
"A couple of days? But—"
"You've managed beautifully about the food, and with that dried beef added to what we already have we should be able to make it fine. We've got the water, too—lugging those containers down the slope and into the cave was the hardest thing we've done. I'd no idea water was so heavy."
"The guns, Em."
"I'm getting to that. You said you'd take care of the food, and I said I'd take care of the guns, and I've been working on it. Michael doesn't keep any weapons in the cottage and you said you couldn't find any in the big house either, so I got to thinking and asked myself what would happen if there was an attack or something."
Em paused. I waited patiently. She smiled.
"The barracks, luv. There's an armory in the barracks, right off the sleeping quarters. I got Cleeve to show it to me this morning while you were filling up barrels with apples and smuggling beef past Burke. I said I'd dearly love to see his quarters. He asked why, and I said I was interested in anything having to do with him. He was quite flattered."
"He showed you the barracks?"
"Every inch of it. The men were delighted, made all sorts of rowdy comments as I passed through—most of 'em know Cleeve's meeting me every night, the idiot had to brag about it. Men! They're his mates, though, and none of them have any great love for Tremayne so there's no danger there."
"I wish you would get to the point, Em."
"The armory is right off the sleeping quarters, like I told you, and it's crammed with muskets and pistols and powder horns and boxes of bullets, swords and things, too. Here's the best part, luv—there's a side door that opens onto the yard. The steps leading up to the walkway in front are right outside, you see, so if there's an attack or something a chap could pop down the stairs and pop into the armory for more ammunition or what have you without having to go through the sleeping quarters. Clever."
"I assume the door is locked."
Em smiled again, an impish light in her eyes. "Not any longer, luv. While Cleeve was laboriously explaining how you load a musket I sauntered over and unlocked it."
"I see. You're going to slip into the armory tonight."
"We're going to slip in, luv."
"With all those men sleeping only a few yards away? It's far too dangerous, Em."
"They're not going to be sleeping," she informed me. "They're going to be watching a fight."
"How are you going to arrange that?" I asked dryly.
"Easy," Em said.
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She explained everything to me in great detail. I was exceedingly apprehensive, not at all convinced her plan would work, but, nevertheless, I strolled back out into the courtyard that evening. The sky was a dark blue-black sprinkled with frosty stars, and there was far too much moonlight, the lawns frosted with silver and spread with shadows. I kept to the shadows, moving slowly toward the big tree that stood beside the last cottage on the right. Light spilled out of the windows of the barracks. There was hearty laughter and the sounds of scuffling. Stationing myself under the tree, I waited, and soon I saw Em ambling along in the moonlight. She paused beside one of the fountains. A few minutes later a man joined her.
Not much taller than she was, with a stocky, muscular build and extremely broad shoulders, he strode purposefully over to the fountain and stood in front of her with his legs spread, his fists planted on his thighs, his stance that of a rough pugilist spoiling for a fight. I recognized him immediately, Grimmet, the black-haired brute who, with Cleeve, had accompanied us on our walks those first two days.
"Fancy meeting you here," Em said coyly.
"Whadda ya mean? Ain't no coincidence, is it?"
I could hear their voices clearly, and although I couldn't see their faces, I could visualize Em's flirtatious smile and Grimmet's sullen, determined expression. Em had chosen her man well. Grimmet was a hot-tempered, belligerent lout who was a natural born bully.
"You gimme a message," he said, "swishing around in that red dress you're wearin', makin' eyes at me. Made a point a tellin' me you'd be takin' a stroll and 'ud like some company."
"Did I?"
"Ya know ya did. I got your message, yeah. Guess Cleeve ain't enough for you."
"Whatever do you mean?"
"You know what I mean, wench. I can use me some, ain't had any since that slut Maria was shipped off to South America. She kept all of us happy, that one. Regular spitfire."
"I think you've made a mistake," Em said. Her voice was crisp.
"Whadda ya mean?"
"I may have smiled at you, and I may have mentioned that I planned to take a stroll this evening, but I certainly didn't intend to imply that I wanted your company. I like men, not surly, overgrown boys."
"You sayin' I can't handle it?"
"I'm saying you'd better not fry."
Her words incensed him. Grimmet snorted and seized her arm. Em tried to pull away. He slung his free arm around the back of her shoulders, jerked her to him, and slammed his mouth over hers. Em struggled furiously, banging her fists against his back, kicking at his shins, fighting so vigorously that Grimmet lost his balance and fell to his knees, taking her down with him, his mouth still locked over hers. A moment later Em was on the ground, on her back, Grimmet astride her. She seized his hair and tugged at it and, once her lips were free, let out a deafening scream that could easily be heard all the way down to the harbor.
Men came pouring out of the barracks in a mad rush. Stunned, Grimmet tried to get to his feet, but Em held him fast, struggling beneath him in a frenzy of thrashing legs and flying skirts.
"Rape!" she cried. "Rape!"
The men were upon them in a matter of seconds, Cleeve in the lead, grabbing the unlucky Grimmet by the shoulders and pulling him off Em with ease as she relinquished her hold. Sobbing, marvelously hysterical, she climbed to her feet, covering her face with her hands as Cleeve threw a mighty punch that sent Grimmet sprawling. The men yelled and cheered, urging them on as the fight began in earnest, Cleeve and Grimmet filled with murderous intent, hitting and grappling and rolling on the lawn in a tangled fury.
Em backed away, completely ignored, and once she was clear of the circle of jubilant, rowdy men who lustily encouraged Cleeve and Grimmet to kill each other, she dashed nimbly across the lawn to where I stood concealed under the shadows of the tree.
"How was I?" she whispered merrily.
"Magnificent."
"Come on, luv, we haven't a second to lose."
Keeping to the shadows, we hurried to the side door of the barracks. Em opened the door, and we darted into the armory. It was very dark, only a few rays of moonlight streaming through the windows, but Em knew where everything was and exactly what she wanted. She seized three powder horns and slung them around her neck and grabbed a musket and thrust it into my hands. Scooping up two pistols, she led the way back outside, and we dashed to a clump of shrubbery she had picked out earlier and deposited our loot under it. The fight was still raging, the men yelling louder than before, laughing and scuffling among themselves as Cleeve and Grimmet continued to pound each other.
"Quick, luv, we've got to make another trip!"
We raced back to the armory, and Em pointed out the wooden box of ammunition. We heaved it up together, for it was far too heavy for either of us to carry alone. We hurried back to the shrubbery and shoved it under the thick, leafy branches, both of us out of breath. I stayed there, heart pounding, while Em returned to the armory to grab two bags of buckshot for the musket and lock the door. She joined me in less than two minutes, and together we hurried to where the men were fighting, Em sobbing beautifully.
I wrapped my arms around her and tried to comfort her, telling her it would be all right, telling her it was over now. It hadn't taken us a full ten minutes to carry out our mission. Cleeve and Grimmet were standing, staggering, both of them bloodied and bruised, exhausted. Em cried out, begging them to stop. Grimmet threw a punch and missed and fell to his knees. The men yelled gleefully as Cleeve aimed a kick and smashed the toe of his boot into Grimmet's temple. Grimmet sprawled backward, out cold. The fight was over.
Burke stepped foward to peer at the unconscious man and turned to Cleeve with accusing eyes. I hadn't seen him before. How long had he been watching? Had he come running out when Em first screamed? He demanded to know how the fight had begun and reminded everyone that fighting was forbidden and that both men wOuld surely be flogged. They all hooted at him, and one man told him that if he knew what was good for him he'd keep his bleedin' mouth shut or else have his tongue ripped out. They howled at that, pounding each other on the back. Burke was livid, but he knew better than to stand up to this lot.
"Lucky for you Red Nick isn't here," he grumbled to Cleeve.
"Shove off, mate!" Cleeve snarled. "If word of this gets out, you're gonna be sorry. I'll personally see ya are."
Burke muttered something under his breath and turned away to go back to the house. Seeing me standing with my arms around the sobbing Em, he paused a moment and glared at me as though I were solely responsible for what had happened. I ignored him, repressing a shudder as he moved on angrily. Deciding it was time to stop sobbing, Em straightened up and wiped the false tears from her eyes and let out a gasp when she got a good look at Grimmet.
"Oh my!" she exclaimed. "You men had better take him back to the barracks and tend to his wounds. What a dreadful, dreadful experience—I don't know what came over him. Unbridled lust, I suspect. Just couldn't help himself. You come with me, Cleeve. I'll patch you up myself."
She led away the unprotesting Cleeve, and the men picked Grimmet up and hauled him back to the barracks. After all the noise and excitement, it was very quiet, very calm. I" strolled slowly across the silver-brushed lawn strewn with elongated velvety black shadows. Leaves rustled. A bird cried out. From the barracks came a single, husky laugh. I could hardly believe that Em's plan had worked so well, and, now that it was over, I was horrified at our boldness. While we were actually carrying it out, there had been no time for nerves, we had been much too busy, but now I was so weak I could hardly climb the wide stone steps and open the front door. If we had been caught. . . but we hadn't been. We had carried it off with marvelous aplomb.
I paused for a moment in front of the long mirror that hung in the huge foyer. Candles burned in silver brackets on either side of it, creating a softly difused light that was highly flattering. Rich copper-red locks spilled down to my shoulders in tumbling disarray, and my cheeks were slightly flushed. Faint, del
icate blue-gray shadows stained my lids, while my eyes were a deep, deep sapphire, weary, sad. My shoulders were smooth and creamy white, bare, the sleeves of my dark blue gown crumpled, the low-cut bodice lightly soiled from our exertion. I gazed at the reflection for several moments, remembering another Marietta, wondering if I would ever see her gazing back at me again.
I went up the stairs to the large, elegant master bedroom to wait. Red Nick always made love to me on that grand, ornately carved white bed with its mauve and silver hangings, its mauve satin counterpane embroidered with tiny fleurs-de-lis in rich purple silk. After he had satisfied himself and, yes, satisfied me, too, at least physically, he always returned to his own, smaller bedroom down the hall. I stared at the bed, thinking of his lean, tan, superbly conditioned body and his savage expertise. How was it possible to hate someone so much, to actively long for his death, yet still respond to his strength and that curious combination of brutality and tender calculation?
I hoped I would never see him again. It was too much to hope that his ship would sink, but perhaps we could make our escape before he and Tremayne and the others returned. Had they been here this past week, it would have been impossible for us to have accomplished what we had. Their absence had been providential indeed, and their return now would be disastrous, increasing the danger many times over. Putting out the lights, sitting down in one of the plush, ivory satin chairs to wait, I prayed we would be safely on our way before The Sea Lyon came sailing into harbor.
The darkness was soon alleviated by pale, hazy moonlight that fell across the balcony and streamed in through the open French windows. The house was still, the silence broken only by the ticking of the clock and the gentle rustle of the drapes billowing inward in the faint evening breeze. They were mauve satin like the counterpane, embroidered with identical purple silk, fleurs-de-lis, billowing with a soft swoosh, falling back, billowing again as the breeze caught them once more. Moonlight silvered the parquet floor and rich Aubusson carpets, and I could smell the gardens and, more faintly, the salty tang of the water half a mile away. An hour passed, another, and it was almost two in the morning before the pebble finally plopped lightly against a window pane. I moved quietly out onto the balcony and, leaning over the railing, peered down into the darkness. I could just see Em standing in the shadows of a tall shrub.
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