The wind still rustled through the trees. No one else walked the graveyard. Nothing appeared to have changed, yet everything had. Clarity and strength came from God, not from a man’s struggle.
He closed his eyes and imagined Elizabeth sweeping across the dance floor, her honeyed hair afire in the lamplight. She turned to him, her eyes begging for the life he longed to share. But he stood outside, dressed in sailors’ garb, unfit to step into the ballroom. Her father swept her away, cradling her like a tender bloom too easily torn by the winds of life. For all her talk, Elizabeth Benjamin had not been raised for the harsh realities faced by a sailor’s wife. Cooking, cleaning, and hunger were strangers to her. She might know death but not fortitude. It was wrong of him to encourage her hopes, especially when it could cost two precious lives their freedom.
A croak sounded.
He should have discouraged her from the start by revealing the stark truth. Life as his wife would be little better than that of her father’s servants. They would know freedom but not security. She deserved better.
Again the croak. Closer this time. An egret.
Tom! He must have Anabelle.
Rourke’s pulse pounded. This was the dangerous part. If anyone had recognized them walking through town, they were all at risk for aiding a fugitive. Curfew had long passed. No excuses could be made. Benjamin would leap at the chance to press charges. Rourke must wait until he was absolutely certain no one had followed Tom and Anabelle.
Keeping to the shadows, he scanned the cemetery. At first he saw nothing. Then a mangrove branch bobbed thirty paces to the east. That must be a signal. Tom would know not to step into the open.
Rourke waited for a cloud to cross in front of the moon and then slipped back to the thicket of swamp cabbage and mangrove that edged the cemetery. Grasping a branch, he shook it in exactly the same manner, followed by an egret call.
Soon the lithe figure of his newest crew member darted out of the mangroves and skirted the edge of the cemetery. Anabelle did not follow.
21
I must use the necessary,” Elizabeth blurted out, no longer concerned for propriety.
Mr. Finch was headed directly toward her. She could delay no longer. Gathering her skirts, she ran through the crowd, weaving around startled guests. The stays made it difficult to draw a breath, but panic drove her on. She escaped through the rear door, emerging into the gathering of carriage drivers, footmen, and maids. Their singing and laughter halted the moment she appeared.
“Miss.” A tall black footman stood to let her pass.
“Anabelle,” she whispered. Between the moonlight and a few lanterns, she ought to be able to spot her, but could not. “My maid.”
“Sorry, miss.” The footman stepped back.
The servants parted like the Red Sea, assuming she needed to relieve herself as she had told Mr. Poppinclerk. Oh dear, what if he followed? She glanced back. No one at the door yet, but either he or Mr. Finch could appear at any moment.
She must proceed to the necessary.
The footman extended a hand to assist her down the steps.
“Thank you,” she said before making her way across the yard. Coarse sand found its way into her slippers, but she didn’t dare stop to remove it. Only when she reached the shadow of the outbuilding did she hazard a glance back. The servants had gathered into groups again, though they spoke quietly.
She must find Anabelle. Had she gone on without her? Elizabeth could cross the island on her own, but Anabelle had her mantle. Without the dark covering, she would stand out in the moonlight.
She tested the door in case anyone was watching. It was bolted. In use. She shrank away.
“Sister.” The whisper came from the shadows behind the outbuilding.
Elizabeth’s pulse raced. Anabelle had waited. When a cloud blotted out the moonlight, she slipped into the shadows between buildings. A strong hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the back fence.
“Ana—”
Her maid touched a finger to her lips.
Silence. Of course.
Anabelle helped Elizabeth into the mantle. If anyone stopped them on the streets, Elizabeth would tell them they were visiting a sick friend. Likely no one would notice a Negro maid in the presence of her mistress.
“Finch returned,” Elizabeth whispered once they had left the area.
That news worried Anabelle, judging by her expression, though she only stated their destination. “My friend lives on Thomas.”
Africa Town. It made perfect sense to meet there since Anabelle would blend in, but the thought of entering that part of town at night made Elizabeth nervous.
Elizabeth grasped her arm. “I suggested the chapel on Eaton.”
Anabelle shook her head and repeated that her friend lived on Thomas. “They expect us there.”
That made no sense unless Anabelle had somehow made other arrangements. Elizabeth wavered. What if she was walking into a trap?
“Hurry,” Anabelle whispered, pointing to the hall. “Soon they come.”
Finch would follow. Elizabeth’s heart pounded. She no longer held control but must place her trust in her half sister. Lord, protect me.
She gathered her nerve and followed Anabelle. They moved quickly through the streets, turning right after a block. Then down an alley. Then left onto a path. Within minutes, Elizabeth was dizzy from the exertion.
“Stop,” Elizabeth gasped. “I can’t breathe.”
Anabelle glared but paused in the shadow of a darkened building.
“Why this route?” Elizabeth managed once she’d calmed the dizziness. She couldn’t even see Anabelle in the inky shadow.
“Hush,” Anabelle hissed, pulling her into the blackness. Her breath tickled Elizabeth’s ear. “We’re being followed.”
Hope succumbed to fear. “Finch.”
“Don’t look. They will know we suspect.”
“They?”
“I thought I saw two men.”
Mr. Finch and Mr. Poppinclerk. It had to be. Or Father and Mr. Finch. Or the town marshal and a deputy. Her head spun.
“We must elude them,” Anabelle whispered.
“How?”
“Follow me.” She headed down a dark alley between two houses.
Elizabeth had no choice but to follow. Her sister was fleeter afoot, though, and unencumbered by the weight of crinoline, bustle, petticoats, and corset.
Anabelle darted between buildings as if she hadn’t been gone four years. She seemed to know every path and shortcut on the island. Around prickly bougainvillea. Under gumbo-limbo trees. Past jasmine with its overpowering perfume. Between buildings so close together that the women had to gather their skirts to squeeze through. Still Anabelle raced on.
Elizabeth gasped for breath as she tried to keep up. The back of her gown was drenched beneath the mantle. Her heart pounded. Stones bruised her slippered feet. She stumbled behind a grogshop roaring with laughter and scrambled to her feet before anyone noticed her.
Something darted in front of her. She shrieked, sending Anabelle into the blackness to their left. Having lost track of her sister, Elizabeth stumbled ahead, searching the shadows. She wasn’t familiar with this part of town. Her forays since returning had kept her close to home.
A light blinked high overhead. The lighthouse. Anabelle must have led her in that direction, but Elizabeth still wasn’t certain where she was. The moonlight revealed shacks and what appeared to be rubble or rocks. The lighthouse’s beam cast an eerie brightness on tangled mangroves. For the first time tonight, Elizabeth was truly afraid. Paralyzed, she waited.
Nothing moved.
No sound.
“Anabelle,” Elizabeth whispered.
She had no idea where they were.
A hand grabbed her arm.
Elizabeth yelped.
Another hand pressed to her mouth.
“Hush!” Anabelle hissed. “They are almost upon us.”
Rourke met Tom halfway. “Where is she?
”
Tom gulped for breath. “Poppinclerk has them in his sights.”
“Them?”
“Anabelle and Miss Benjamin.”
Rourke groaned. “Why is Elizabeth involved? That only complicates matters.”
Tom hesitated. “She gave me a letter for you, but I didn’t have a chance to deliver it since Poppinclerk watched me day and night.” He cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t have read it since it was addressed to you, but I was worried it had to do with our plans, that Anabelle was sending word through Miss Benjamin.”
Rourke bit back a twinge of irritation that Tom might have read something deeply personal. “Understandable.”
“She loves you, you know.”
He couldn’t think about that. “What did it say?”
“That she wanted to join you tonight. She planned to leave the ball and wanted you to meet her at the little chapel on Eaton Street.”
“With Anabelle?”
“She didn’t mention Anabelle,” Tom said. “That’s what worried me. I don’t think she knows what we planned for tonight.”
“But you said they’re together and that Poppinclerk is following them. What are you doing here? Poppinclerk will have seized them by now.”
Tom shook his head. “I don’t think he wants to catch them. Even though Anabelle and Miss Benjamin zigzagged all over the island, he could’ve stopped them a couple times. Then Finch joined him. If you ask me, they want to see where the ladies are headed.”
Rourke was getting a very bad feeling. “They’re looking for me.” He didn’t care to spell out what that meant. A sharp lad like Tom had probably figured it out already. That was why he came here.
“Aiding a fugitive,” Tom said. “You would lose the Windsprite.”
Not any longer. The sloop belonged to John now. Rourke wouldn’t lose the ship, but he would lose far worse, for Charles Benjamin would tighten the noose until he strangled any hope of gaining Elizabeth’s hand.
“Forget that.” Rourke slipped into command. “We have two women to rescue. Where did you leave them?”
“I lost them when they ducked into a dark lane near the lighthouse. Only a few blocks from here. Their pursuers walked right past. When the men turned around, grumbling that they’d lost them, I figured I could fetch the ladies, but they weren’t there.”
“That means they’re between here and there.”
“My thought exactly. That’s why I headed this way, but I didn’t see them.”
“Where did they go?” Rourke growled. “We can’t help them if we don’t know where they are.”
“Anabelle doubled back a few times,” Tom offered. “Maybe she did that again.”
“That means they could be anywhere. I can’t sit here when they might be in danger.” Rourke knew that setting foot in town increased his chance of being discovered, but Tom’s arrival had already jeopardized that. Nevertheless, Tom still stood the better chance of getting Anabelle to the boat. “Take my cutlass.” He handed over the weapon. “If we are discovered, the men will follow me. Lead the women in a different direction. Now, let’s head toward the lighthouse. While we’re still in the graveyard, tell me everything that happened tonight.”
They set off at a brisk pace.
Tom kept his voice low. “I was watching for Anabelle like we’d planned. She arrived with Miss Benjamin in the carriage.”
“What did you say?” Rourke stopped him. “Anabelle was inside the carriage?”
“Ye-es. Is that unusual?”
“Very unusual. Charles Benjamin never allows servants to ride with the family. Who else was in the carriage?”
“Mr. Benjamin, but he got out while they were waiting in line outside the hall. Then a little later Mr. Finch left in a hurry.”
“So Finch was with them.” That didn’t surprise him. Benjamin had been promoting Finch to Elizabeth since her arrival, but a hasty departure meant something had gone wrong with that plan. “How did he look when he left the carriage? Pleased or worried?”
“Worried. He headed straight for the harbor.”
“The harbor?” Rourke started walking again. He could think better when afoot. “Why on earth would he go there?”
“I don’t know, but about an hour later he came back to the hall and went inside.”
“Hmm.” Finch’s actions suggested he went to meet someone. Since Tom said he later joined Poppinclerk, Rourke suspected that was who he’d met at the harbor. “Still no Anabelle?”
Tom shook his head. “She stayed in the backyard with the other servants until Miss Benjamin joined her. Then they left together.”
That sounded as if the two women had planned all along to travel together. Something had happened to drive them into the surprising alliance, something that had also prompted Finch and Poppinclerk to ally. “Charles Benjamin?”
“Never left the hall.”
They had reached the edge of the cemetery. Rourke motioned for quiet, but his mind still raced. If Benjamin hadn’t followed his daughter or Mr. Finch, he’d either left the work to others or knew nothing of what was happening tonight. Rourke couldn’t believe the latter. That meant Charles Benjamin was keeping his hands clean until the very last moment, when success was assured.
He and Tom hurried down the empty, sparsely settled streets. Before long, homes would press into this area. Already several had been built on the quieter southern side of the island, but the dense hammocks and mangrove thickets still hung on here and there. The number of buildings increased as they neared the lighthouse.
Suddenly Tom stopped and whipped around, knocking Rourke off balance. While Tom took off at a run, Rourke tumbled back into a pitch-black gap between two shacks. He stepped on uneven ground and fell. The back of his head struck the building.
“Rourke,” a sweet feminine voice gasped.
He must be dreaming. Tom couldn’t have pushed him into the exact hiding spot of the two ladies.
“Rourke.” Elizabeth urged him to turn from the beckoning dark waters.
He shook his head and clarity returned. One fact was clear. Tom had not only disappeared, but he’d taken the cutlass with him. It was now up to Rourke to save the ladies—without the benefit of a weapon.
Elizabeth dropped to her knees, finally able to breathe. “Rourke.” She felt around in the dark until she found his slumped form.
“They’re gone,” Anabelle whispered.
Hiding in this cramped and filthy space hadn’t eased her pounding heart, especially when Captain Poppinclerk and Mr. Finch showed up, prowling the street and poking into every building. Sooner or later, she and Anabelle would be discovered.
Then Rourke and Tom had arrived. Mr. Finch and Captain Poppinclerk slipped into the shadows at the very next building. Elizabeth wanted to warn Rourke, but Anabelle wouldn’t let her.
All seemed lost, and then Tom shoved Rourke, sending him into the tiny space that she and Anabelle occupied. He hit the ground hard.
“Mr. Rourke is hurt,” Anabelle whispered.
“I’m all right,” he groaned, “just a little woozy.”
“Let me get my handkerchief.” Elizabeth rummaged in her bag, but the handkerchief had gotten tangled in the brooch. She pulled the whole lot out and unraveled the mess.
“I’m not bleeding,” he insisted. “Give me a second to gather my wits.”
Elizabeth wrapped her fingers around the brooch. They must run again. The distance to Rourke’s boat was far. Too far. Anabelle was the stronger sister. She could make it. Moreover, Mr. Finch didn’t care about a slave. He wanted Elizabeth. If he caught them, he would let Anabelle go. Her sister had a chance at happiness, though life would be a struggle in a new land.
Elizabeth handed the brooch to Anabelle. “Take this.”
“No,” her sister whispered.
She closed Anabelle’s fingers around the brooch. “For your family. Have Rourke help you sell it once you get there.”
Meanwhile, Rourke had risen to his feet. “We need to
get out of here. The men will be back as soon as they realize Tom is leading them on a wild goose chase.”
They stepped out of the cramped space, staying in the shadows.
Rourke looked at both of them, but his gaze lingered on her.
Elizabeth pressed together her dusty lips, ashamed that her first thought had been to wonder if he liked her dress. “Which way do we go?”
“Toward the cemetery.” Rourke had not stopped gazing at her. Now he touched her shoulder with the gentleness of a man in love. “Are you able to run?”
Her feet were so bruised that every step hurt. The stays limited her breath. Mr. Finch and Mr. Poppinclerk could return at any moment. “Go. Get Anabelle to safety. I will keep up as best I can.”
“I cannot leave you.”
“You must.” She swallowed her fear. If Mr. Finch found her, what would he do? Such thoughts would paralyze her if she let them. “Anabelle must get to the ship.”
Rourke nodded. Taking Anabelle’s hand, he headed up the street at full stride. Elizabeth hurried after them, but her clothing hindered every move. Petticoats tangled between her legs. Stones bit the arches of her feet. Perspiration rolled into her eyes, blurring her vision. She struggled for every breath. If only she could rid herself of these constraints, but all she could do was unhook the mantle. That gave minimal relief.
At the next corner, Rourke and Anabelle waited.
His eyes drifted to the lovely gown with the rosette at her throat and a bodice that revealed her small waist. “You’re beautiful.”
How often she had longed to hear those words, but not now, not with so much at stake. Anabelle quivered with anxiety.
Elizabeth could not risk her sister’s future. “Hurry.”
Rourke extended a hand. “I will carry you.”
“No. I will only slow you down. I see the cemetery ahead. I will follow.”
Anabelle took off at a run. After a moment’s hesitation, Rourke followed the woman who had been Elizabeth’s friend and maid for so many years. He caught her within a few strides. Though Elizabeth ran until her throat ached, she could not catch them. By the end of the next block, she had fallen farther behind. The cemetery lay ahead. She knew the way to the ship from there, past the salt ponds and through the hammocks. But the route was long, and she was losing both ground and strength.
Love's Rescue (Keys Of Promise Book 1) (Historical Romance) Page 24