by Beverly Adam
The recent skirmish with Mrs. Kaye and her cronies at The Hair of The Dog Tavern had reinforced the fact that an evil plot had been afoot, and not successfully executed, aboard the frigate. The sole reason the ship had not gone up in flames was entirely merited to the first mate’s ability to lead his crew through a daunting time of terrible crisis.
To what purpose had these unsavory events been planned? It was still unknown.
But Robert knew enough to now be on his guard. For who knew what else Jemima Kaye might have planned for him?
All the dangerous events he had lived through, he silently admitted, had somehow been tied together. There was a common thread. He had but to find it and uncover the whole truth concerning the evil duplicity of Jemima Kaye. He wanted to know why she detested the crew of The Brunswick enough to kill them.
* * *
On their way back to the frigate, a tiny woman dressed from head to toe in widow’s weeds approached them. She appeared to be no larger than an overgrown leprechaun.
“Excuse me, ma’am, Lieutenant,” she said, clutching a small painted portrait. “Have ye seen this man? He’s my husband, Captain James William Fitzpatrick. I’m trying to find out what happened to him and the crew of The Blue Star. Can you help me?”
She held it up to them to inspect.
Looking at the portrait and into the tired face of the lady, Sarah immediately recognized both. “Lady Fitzpatrick!” she exclaimed, acknowledging the eccentric aunt of her dear friend, Lady Beatrice O’Brien.
“Why if it isn’t our Wise Sarah!” replied the Irish woman, taking hold of her hands. “I never expected to see you here, m’ dear. Faith, what brings ye here to England, lass? And who be this handsome devil of a gentleman beside ye?”
“I’m Lieutenant Robert Smythe, ma’am,” he said, stepping forward. He doffed his hat at her in respect. “I am Mistress Duncan’s betrothed.”
Sarah turned towards him, surprised by his statement. She had not expected him to continue the charade of their engagement after the crew was dismissed . . . unless he wanted to continue their relationship.
She gave him an inquiring look, which said, What are you up to? He returned her look with one of his own, a tender one, which caused her heart to skip a beat. It clearly said he wanted to discuss this further in private.
“Ye are!” exclaimed the tiny lady reminding them of her presence, her eyes widening with surprise.
Her gaze ran up and down his handsome frame, comparing him to the deceased rough-and-ready blacksmith the wise woman had once been betrothed to. There was a vast difference between the two.
Where the one had been a large and unrefined peasant with a quick temper, this gentleman appeared to be the best the English middle class had to offer. He displayed impeccably good manners and had a pleasing way about him. The other had been impetuous and full of unrestrained impulses.
Lady Fitzpatrick’s old eyes noted his tarnished gold epaulets. Aye, this young officer was a gentleman who was very sure of himself and undoubtedly knew what he wanted from life.
Standing there in his naval uniform, solicitously taking the time to listen to the tale of woe from an old woman, he reminded Lady Fitzpatrick of someone very dear to her . . . her beloved Captain James Fitzpatrick.
“It is a grand pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lieutenant,” she said, smiling up at him, holding her hand out for him to bow over. “I’m Lady Agnes Fitzpatrick.
“And what brings you here to Portsmouth, ma’am?”
“I’m after trying to discover what happened to my husband, Captain Fitzpatrick. I’m hoping to meet someone who can tell me what became of him. He and his ship, the Admiralty says, may have sunk during a storm off the coast of Africa. I am traveling to all the seaports of the known world in hopes of hearing news of him, of running into someone who has either heard or seen him or his ship. But so far, I have been unable to find any. ’Tis as if they disappeared off the face of the earth without a trace to be found.”
Lady Fitzpatrick’s face crumpled with sad tears.
“They fear all hands were lost in one of the dark uncharted spots off the coast of southern Africa,” explained Sarah, picking up the narrative. “It is feared when they were rounding the horn, a squall hit.”
She handed a handkerchief to the tearful woman.
“Lady Fitzpatrick has been on this quest for news of her husband and his crew for over three years. She has never given up hope of learning of what became of her good captain and his crew. She has always remained loyal to his memory.”
“I cannot go on with my life. I must know what became of my darling husband. I cannot continue . . . ,” explained the weeping lady, dabbing at the tears in her eyes.
“Such devotion is indeed most admirable,” said Robert, feeling compassion for the grief-stricken widow. “Please, ma’am, won’t you join us for a cup of tea? There is a tearoom nearby. It serves the very best kind of refreshments.”
“Oh, Lady Fitzpatrick, please do,” added Sarah enthusiastically. “It would be an honor for us if you would. We could then sit cozily together like two old village market gossipmongers. And ye could tell me all the latest developments in Urlingford. What has happened between Lady Beatrice and the Earl of Drennan? Last I heard they were betrothed by her father, Lord O’Brien, but she was fighting the match. Ever the Spinster of Brightwood Manor, she was still playing the role of frostbitten maid last I was there.”
“My dear, then you truly are behind in the latest!” exclaimed Lady Fitzpatrick, her whole face alit with joy. “My niece and the earl published their banns in church two weeks ago. They are to be married in a fortnight’s time in Drennan Castle’s chapel. And to everyone’s delight, ’tis become a love match made in heaven.”
“So true love’s course went smoothly for them, after all? They suffered no difficulties?”
“If only it had.” The aunt sighed. “There was this terrible business with an old acquaintance of my niece’s appearing. The most dreadful man I’ve ever laid eyes upon. And to think my Beatrice had once almost been married to him! It truly makes one believe that God is watching over us.”
The old lady shuddered, recalling the sneering aristocratic face of the dreadful Viscount Linley. Although born a gentleman of high birth, he had behaved like a cad of the first order.
“When we are seated, I will tell you all. How it came about that this gentleman troubled her and the brave earl. Aye, such a villainous devil as him chills me quite to the bone. Faith, I shall need that cup of tea you offered, after all. For this particular tale requires a bit of time to retell. Are ye certain you’re at leisure to hear me out?”
She eyed the couple before her uncertainly.
“Most certainly we have the time. Don’t we, Commander Smythe?” asked Sarah, including Robert in the conversation.
She had not missed the admiring glances the old widow cast at Robert. It would be a shame to disappoint her. It was evident she was quite taken with him.
“Indeed, ma’am . . . I shall be most delighted to escort you both to tea.” He smiled charmingly, and leading them down Main Street, they walked to a nearby tearoom.
* * *
The tearoom was located in the center of the thriving merchant area of Portsmouth. Lace curtains hung in the shop’s windows giving it a welcoming feel. It was bustling with activity. The small room was full of women chattering, some of whom were standing at the counter ordering tins of special blends from India, Japan, and China.
Much had changed in the village since Lady Fitzpatrick had lived there as the young wife of a sea captain. It had startled her to see all the fine new structures that had been constructed around the port. The Royal Naval yard, since the war with France, had become an important center of activity for the British Union.
Cupping her tiny hands around a hand-painted piece of fine bone china, Lady Fitzpatrick smiled across at the couple in front of her. Sarah and Robert made a handsome pair. And it had been awhile since she had been among t
hose of close acquaintance who knew her.
“Now, please tell me all the news of Urlingford,” said Sarah when a pot of hot brewing Darjeeling tea was placed in front of them. “It has been ever so long since I heard from anyone. I rarely receive any news.”
“For sure, I will,” said Lady Fitzpatrick.
Briefly, she recounted to them the tale concerning her niece, Lady Beatrice O’ Brien’s, courtship by the handsome new Earl of Drennan. She ended it by recounting in detail the frightening final battle between the earl and the villainous Viscount Linley, the horrible aristocrat who had hired kidnappers in order to try and force her niece into marriage.
‘“I was not there to witness this duel myself, but my brother, Beatrice’s father, retold it to me when they came back safely,” she said, taking a sip from her dainty cup.
“When I found the dagger that had been left on her bed by those dreadful mercenaries who’d taken my beautiful niece—why, I nearly lost my mind. Aye, it gave me such a terrible fright. To think my Bea’ could have ended up at the mercy of that terrible devil . . . it is not to be contemplated.”
“I should say not,” said Robert.
He himself did not dare to imagine the grief it would cause him if such a thing should happen to Sarah. He had no doubt that he would not hesitate to tear such a cad asunder with his own bare hands.
“I cannot say that I am sorry to have missed the earl skewering that evil man. Nay, I have already had in my own life a fair share of perilous adventures. Faith, wherever I voyaged with my dear James, there was always some new horizon for us to discover together, some small pleasure for us to take in and savor. Aye, I suppose that is what I miss the most, the small delights we shared together in each other’s company.”
“Were you not lonely at sea with only seamen aboard for company?” asked Sarah, silently wondering what it was like to be an English sea merchant’s wife. She was curious as to how the genteel Lady Fitzpatrick had managed to keep herself occupied aboard a small vessel, without all the comforts of a normal home and female companionship.
“Captain Fitzpatrick and I were two of a kind, my dear. Kindred spirits I think is what you would have called us. We were so like minded,” said Lady Fitzpatrick, with a small smile, reminiscing. “Aye, he taught me the ways of the sea and how to manage aboard any craft which could float. I learned how to read a sexton and navigate as well as any man. The captain used to teasingly call me his ‘able-bodied woman.’”
“Aye, and in time I even came to take pleasure in cooking over a small stove, which had the habit of burning all the undersides of all the dishes I baked.” The old woman laughed softly in remembrance. “From the very beginning I loved the sea. And being a captain’s wife was as grand a life as any I could have asked God for. Nay, my dears, I have only one regret . . .”
She let out a small sigh, her widow’s weeds sagging about her.
“I should have gone with him on that last voyage. It was the only time we were ever separated. Instead, I remained on shore. The captain had wanted me to find us a cozy place to harbor ourselves in our old age. Aye, that last journey was to have been his very last, and sadly it was.”
“But you have not given up searching for him?” Sarah asked.
“Nay, I have not. I will one day discover what became of him, his ship, and The Blue Star’s crew. It is only a matter of time. I know that one day my search will come to an end. For all mysteries are solved in due time, are they not?”
“For sure now, my lady, they are,” agreed Sarah, meeting the tiny lady’s smile with one of her own. She glanced at Robert, who nodded.
It brought back into both their thoughts the mysteries they had yet themselves to solve. Who had killed John Stafford? And why had Jemima Kaye come aboard The Brunswick disguised as a seaman? And what wrong had anyone aboard done to the ex-harlot to invoke such heated hatred?
Looking at Lady Fitzpatrick sipping her tea, Sarah acknowledged she was grateful that she was not faced with the same heartbreaking worry over a lost loved one. She had the comfort of knowing with certainty how John had died. In this she was at peace, unlike the dear lady seated forlornly next to her.
However, what would have happened if those black-hearted thugs had killed Robert before O’Grady showed up? Her heart squeezed at the thought. He could have been tossed into the harbor and disappeared without anyone being the wiser. It was a sobering thought. She easily could have been in Lady Fitzpatrick’s shoes.
“Where will you go from here?” she asked, wondering where the tiny lady’s wanderings would take her next.
“I intend to return to Urlingford and my brother’s home for a few weeks. As I mentioned, Beatrice is finally going to be good and wed. And I want to be there at the tying of the knot.”
The widow smiled at her, happily anticipating the approaching nuptials.
“It will be the grandest wedding the parish has seen in many a year. I intend not to miss a minute of it. For sure now, I ought not to be boasting, but I did have a small hand in bringing the two of them together.”
“Indeed,” murmured Sarah with a matching smile of her own. She could think of several others who had also played their part in this matchmaking, including in a small way, herself and the bride’s father.
“Aye, the entire village will be in full celebration over the marriage.”
A speculative gleam appeared in the tiny lady’s dark green eyes.
“And you and this handsome young officer will attend, won’t ye, Sarah?” asked the proud aunt, hedging. The couple before her had that look about them, one that silently suggested they might one day become united in holy matrimony.
Suddenly uncertain, not knowing what the lieutenant thought of their coupling by the wee Irish lady, Sarah did not answer. She couldn’t look at him. She hoped he was not displeased by the widow’s obvious efforts at matchmaking.
“We’ll try to be there,” said Robert, smoothly answering for them both.
“Aye, now that would be grand.” The lady beamed, nodding. “I know the whole village is awaiting your return, Sarah. You’ve been sorely missed.”
She placed the teacup down and picked up the portrait of her late husband, preparing to take her leave.
“Well, goodbye for now. And God’s blessing be upon you both . . . until we meet again. Sarah, take care of yourself.”
“And you the same, Lady Fitzpatrick,” she murmured back, hoping the old lady would at last find the answers to her questions.
Shaking the lieutenant’s hand in a final farewell, refusing his gentlemanly offer to escort her back to the rented cottage where she was staying, the tiny lady disappeared into the hustle and bustle of the street.
Chapter 13
From a distance, Varrik Island looked tranquil in the sunny sea haze. Small white caps topped the water in front of them. Otherwise, a brisk northerly wind blew and the small puncan easily navigated the dark waters.
Sarah was not certain what the future held for her after this day. Robert had become increasingly quiet and thoughtful since the Admiralty’s review and he had not spoken at great length with her since their leave taking of The Brunswick. She knew he too was contemplating the future and what it might hold.
She didn’t mind the silence between them as they steered the boat towards the island. Looking at Varrik Island off in the distance reminded her of how much she herself had grown since leaving it. The accomplishments she had made allowed her to navigate freely about the world. She had reached all her most cherished goals, except one.
Making a living as a respected village wise woman she no longer needed to hide, to be afraid. She could use her healing abilities where she liked. She had grown into a mature woman of the world, confident in her healing skills. However, there was one thing lacking in her life . . . she had no one to love her, and in her heart she knew she would like to have someone fill that empty space in her life.
Looking up at Robert at the helm, she idly wondered, what it would be like to li
ve with him, to be a permanent part of his life. Would they rub together as well as they did now?
This was a dream she had dared not to think upon. It was one she knew was becoming more and more desirable. It had been a long time since she had dreamt of sharing her life with anyone.
Robert adjusted the sail. The sun lit his dark locks, giving a warm glow to his appearance. Despite the marring of his face from the alley beating, he looked manly and confident. From habit she turned the ring on her finger. Looking down at the small gold heart held by two hands, she pondered her own heart’s desires.
Aye, I could fall in love and have a family if I want. There was nothing, not even the cherished memory of a dead love to prevent me. It’s my decision. But do I dare? Am I ready to leave my secure position as the respected wise woman of Urlingford village, for the more precarious one as an English naval officer’s lady? Should I abandon all I’ve worked so hard for in order to follow my heart’s leading?
She knew the fork in the road lay ahead. They would either continue to grow closer and plan a future together as a couple, or be separated, possibly forever.
The thought of never seeing him again caused a small tug of fear in her heart. She pressed her hand to it. She knew what she wanted. She would have to tell him soon how she felt.
When they arrived upon the pebbled beach of Varrik Island, Gladys Clogheen and Captain Jackson made their appearance, carrying a wicker basket full of crabs between them. They had just returned from checking Gladys’s pots. A small quarter boat moored nearby. Captain Jackson waved a hand at them and smiled by way of greeting.
Robert surveyed his friend and commander, surprised by the changes in him. The deathly ill man he’d left in the care of Sarah’s mother looked miraculously almost like his former self.