“I wanted to study,” he said. Again that thumping sound. “Seeing as you’ve been sleeping for four days now, I saw no reason to keep the room dark.”
“Four days?”
“The doctor didn’t know if you’d ever wake up.”
She let her lids close, but the turquoise sea was gone. Only the pain remained. Her head hurt. The tiniest movement sapped her strength. Her throat was parched. She forced her eyelids open again. “Water?”
“Even better.” Charlie appeared at the bedside, towering over her. The thumping stopped. “Cook sent up a pot of tea twenty minutes ago. Earl Grey. Your favorite.” He lowered himself into a bedside chair and set aside crutches.
“You can walk,” she gasped.
He looked abashed. “I’ve been practicing for weeks. Months, actually. Father had one of the Army engineers at the fort make the leg braces and crutches in August, but they take some getting used to. I took a lot of spills before I got it right.”
“But . . . the wheelchair?”
He lowered his gaze. “I didn’t want to fall in front of people. Father helped me practice at night, and Rourke would help when he came to play chess.”
At the mention of Rourke’s name, her throat constricted.
Charlie continued. “Once you arrived, I told Father I couldn’t learn to use them. It was easier to stay in my room.” He gave her a sheepish look. “I might have been a little angry at you too. I wanted to make you feel awful for what happened.”
“I am sorry.”
“It’s not really your fault. Rourke tried to make me see that, but I didn’t understand until I saw how courageous you were.”
“Me?” She rubbed her throat.
“Sorry.” He poured tea into a teacup. “By helping Anabelle to freedom. That’s when I realized you weren’t totally selfish.”
“But I was.”
“When it mattered, you acted unselfishly. I figured if you could do that, I could accept that I’m crippled and stop worrying what people say.” He held out the cup. “Here.”
She winced at his words. He had to accept so much, and no matter what Rourke said, it was her fault. She attempted to take the teacup from him, but the handle slipped from her fingers, and the brown liquid spilled all over the coverlet. “I’m sorry.” Tears rose. “I made a mess of everything.”
He blotted at the spill with a cloth. “My fault. I should have known better. Here, let me hold the cup for you.”
With great care and patience he eased the liquid to her lips, asking after every sip if she wanted more.
Elizabeth marveled at his gentle spirit. “You’re a lot like Mother.”
“I miss her. Father spent time with me every day, but it wasn’t the same. And now he’s gone.”
“Gone?” Memories tumbled through her head. Anger darkening his expression. Fury. The blow. She touched a hand to her cheek. It didn’t hurt.
“It’s healing,” Charlie confirmed, “but it’s a nasty green and purple color.”
She did not care how she looked. Rourke would never return. And he wasn’t the only one missing. “What do you mean that Father is gone?” Anger rose again. Before she had recovered, he left. “Where did he go? To fetch Mr. Finch?”
“He left on business.”
“What business? That doesn’t make sense. Attorneys don’t need to travel.”
Charlie shrugged. “He didn’t say, just that it was urgent.”
She squeezed her eyelids shut. He had gone after Mr. Finch. Or Rourke. Her eyes flew open. “Rourke? Was he caught?”
“No. They should be at Harbour Island by now.”
Elizabeth breathed out, both relieved and devastated. “He will never return.”
Charlie squeezed her hand. “You have to hope.”
But she knew the cost of Anabelle’s freedom. Rourke had to pay. She had to pay.
“Tom Worthington stopped by after Father left,” Charlie said. “He told me everything that happened, what you did to help our half sister.”
“So you do know about Anabelle.”
“You left me Mother’s diary. Of course I know. It wasn’t difficult to figure out, and Father confirmed it.”
“He did?” That did not sound like Father.
“There’s no reason to keep it secret now.”
Anger warred with relief. No more secrets, but it had cost her everything. “Do you hate him?”
A frown creased his brow. “He was always good to me. I suppose I was angry with him at first, but Mother found a way to forgive him, so I figure I should too.”
That was too simple. Elizabeth could not set aside so easily the pain his actions had caused. “I can’t. He destroyed everything I loved.”
“Everything? You’re alive. You still have your family.”
Her conscience pricked. “I do love you, Charlie.” But everything else was gone. Rourke. Anabelle. The loving father she’d thought she had. Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut against the pain.
“He loves you,” Charlie said.
He might mean Father, but she chose to believe he was referring to Rourke. Father had struck her when she didn’t bend to his will. That was not love. Love does right even when it hurts. Father had not done right. Not at all. He had run off while she hovered between life and death. Didn’t he even have the courage to face her?
“Charles Benjamin the Second!” That burst of matronly energy could only belong to Aunt Virginia. “You were supposed to ring for me the moment your sister awakened. That’s why I left the bell here.”
She bustled into the room and proceeded to demonstrate, making Elizabeth cover her ears.
“Now, how are you, dear?” Aunt rounded the bed and tugged at the coverlet until she noticed the tea stain. “What did you do, Charles? Spill the entire pot on your sister? Call for Florie to clean up this mess, and have her bring up some hot broth for your sister. Go on now.” She waved him away.
Charlie gave Elizabeth an apologetic look and picked up his crutches.
“You ought to have bell pulls in every room to summon the servants,” Aunt stated. “When your father returns, I’ll see he installs them.”
Charlie rolled his eyes, which in the past would have made Elizabeth laugh, but the thought of facing Father soured any amusement.
Even before Charlie had made his way from the room, Aunt fluffed the pillows and resituated the bolster so Elizabeth sat more comfortably.
“Now, dear, do you feel well enough to hear what has gone on the last few days?”
Elizabeth leaned her head back. Whether or not she wanted to hear, Aunt would tell her.
As expected, Aunt did not wait for her answer. “You will be relieved to hear that Mr. Finch has left the island. Bound for New Orleans, I understand. He took the first packet Sunday morning, before your father could find him.”
As she suspected, Father intended to change Finch’s mind.
Aunt did not notice her discomfort. “That was fortunate for both men. If your father had found him, he would have wrung his neck. I told him that we discovered Mr. Finch had taken your father’s copy of the bill of sale. Before you’d danced your first cotillion, I’d talked the boardinghouse owner into checking Mr. Finch’s room. It was in the wardrobe. The man didn’t even have the intelligence to hide it.”
Elizabeth had no difficulty believing that. Finch’s ambitions outweighed his sense.
Aunt sighed. “I fear, dearest Elizabeth, that Mr. Finch was using that bill of sale to blackmail your father.”
“He said that?”
“Your father admitted everything. Apparently that bill was his only proof of ownership other than writing to Charleston, since the ship’s papers were lost in the wreck. Apparently he violated some sort of rule about conflicting interests, and Mr. Finch took advantage. He needed your inheritance, you see. Inquiries revealed that he owed a tremendous sum around town, especially at the gaming tables.”
“Then Finch really did take the papers from your trunk.”
“Not quite as d
irectly as that. Since I gave my keys to Captain Poppinclerk, I suspect he was the one who rummaged through my trunk and found the papers. He then must have given—or sold—them to Mr. Finch.”
“But why?”
Aunt harrumphed. “Something about carrying a grudge against your father for driving him out of the wrecking business by getting his license revoked. He must have figured Mr. Finch would use the papers to sully your father’s reputation. No doubt he would have, given the opportunity.”
Elizabeth’s head ached trying to understand it all. “It doesn’t matter much anymore, does it? He is gone.”
“Praise God for that blessing. If you hadn’t come to me with that idea to test Mr. Finch, we might have made a terrible mistake. I have sent a letter to Jonathan to investigate the man’s background more thoroughly.”
“But I thought you had. Father always touted his pedigree.”
“I’m ashamed to admit we took Mr. Finch at his word.” She sighed. “I am humiliated by how he deceived us. He might have taken the family for a great deal of money.”
Elizabeth recalled her father’s assertions of financial distress. “I fear that even with Mr. Finch gone, we are destitute.”
Aunt Virginia jerked back. “Destitute? Whatever would make you say that?”
“Other than Charlie, of course. He has Mother’s inheritance.” She rubbed her aching temple. “A few days ago, Father told me his savings were gone. That’s why he insisted I marry Mr. Finch. We needed the inheritance for Charlie’s care.”
“My dear.” Aunt chuckled. “I suspect at the time he was reeling from the loss of the Victory and under duress from Mr. Finch’s blackmail threats. The auction of the ship’s cargo paid off all debts, and now that proof of ownership has been confirmed, the insurers will reimburse the balance. Your father is certainly not destitute.”
It was all too much to take in. Her head was aching.
Florie arrived with the broth, which Aunt Virginia would doubtless ladle down her throat. Elizabeth closed her eyes, exhausted. The family might be returning to normal, but she had never felt more lost.
Recovery came slowly. Though Elizabeth was out of bed and moving around the house within a few days, she could not summon the strength to look ahead. Father’s absence gave her time to heal. It also gave her time to think. Would he return alone? With Mr. Finch out of the picture, she could think of only one reason Father would leave before she’d awoken. He intended to catch Rourke and bring him back to face prosecution.
“How long did Father say he would be gone?” she asked at breakfast on a windy late October morning.
Aunt set down her teacup and looked to Charlie. “He told me it could take weeks. Did he say differently to you?”
Charlie shook his head. “Just not to worry.”
Elizabeth gnawed on her lip. That sounded like Father would not rest until he convinced the Bahamian government to release Rourke and Anabelle into his custody. “Did he say where he went?”
Charlie shook his head.
Aunt must have seen her expression. “Something is worrying you.”
Elizabeth couldn’t express her fears, for Aunt Virginia didn’t approve of Rourke either.
“It’s only natural that you have the jitters,” Aunt continued, “considering what happened, but he is your father. You forgive and move on.”
Elizabeth could not forgive him. Not now. Perhaps not ever.
“Aunt is right,” Charlie said between mouthfuls.
She rose, unable to listen to this anymore. “Excuse me. I am no longer hungry.”
Upstairs, she paced her room. She needed to find out where Father had gone. With Mr. Finch gone, no one remained in Father’s office. He must have sailed or taken a steamer. Perhaps one of the shipping agents would know which ship he had taken and its route. She grabbed a straw hat and hurried back downstairs.
“Where are you going?” Aunt called out from the dining room.
“To the harbor. I need the fresh air.”
Charlie pulled himself to his feet and hobbled from the table into the foyer. “I’d like to show you something first. It’s in my room.”
Though Elizabeth would rather leave, her brother might know more than he was willing to acknowledge in front of Aunt Virginia. She followed him down the hall and into his room.
“Please close the door,” he said as he lowered himself into the chair behind his desk. Books still covered the desktop. Many were open, and his notes covered the pages. He set his crutches to the side.
“You take your studies seriously.”
“The law is a serious pursuit.”
“Is there something in those books that you wanted to show me?”
“No.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a chart. It looked vaguely familiar.
“Our pirate treasure map?” As children they had taken a nautical chart of the area and plotted the most likely hiding places of buried pirate treasure.
“Yes and no.” He motioned to the other chair in the room. “Join me.”
She pulled the chair beside him and sat down.
He spread out the chart. “We are here.” He pointed to Key West. “This is Briland, or Harbour Island.” He pointed far to the right. “I’ve been thinking that they might not have gone there.” He pointed to a much closer island. “Andros would be quicker to reach.”
“Maybe they did at first, but Rourke would go on to Harbour Island. That’s where his mother and brothers and sisters live.” A lump formed in her throat. She traced the route with her fingertip. “It’s a long distance. Do you think Father went after Rourke? If the winds calmed, a steamer might catch the Windsprite before they reached safety.”
“I considered that,” Charlie admitted. “That’s why I suspect Rourke headed for Andros Island. He would have had a short run with the brisk southeast winds.”
“Did any steamers leave port?”
Charlie ducked his head. “Father took a steamer, but he didn’t leave until the night before you awoke. Three days had passed. Rourke could have gotten all the way to Briland in that time.”
Elizabeth breathed out with relief.
“Besides, he’s not back,” he added. “If he had caught up to Rourke, they would be back by now. Rourke and Anabelle must be safe.”
That made sense, but she still had a feeling that they were missing something. One unaccounted thread could unravel everything. She ran through the people involved. Mr. Finch had left for New Orleans. Father could not have reached Rourke in time. That left just one. “Captain Poppinclerk! Where is he?”
Charlie looked surprised. “I’m not sure. Why?”
“Aunt Virginia believes he is the one who took the papers from her trunk. If he left port . . .”
His eyes widened. “You think he would chase Rourke all the way to Harbour Island? Why? What could he hope to gain?”
“I don’t know, but I have a terrible feeling about this.”
“There’s only one thing to do, then.”
She looked up, startled by his certainty. “What could we possibly do?”
“Find Rourke.”
She drew in her breath at the bold proposition. “How?”
He grinned. “Mother’s inheritance ought to go to something worthwhile, don’t you think?”
She shook her head. “It’s for your future. Your security.”
“I have enough security. Aunt Virginia might be a little overbearing, but even before you decided to give me Mother’s inheritance, she promised to pay for law school. Mother meant her inheritance for you. Use it. Find him.”
Elizabeth couldn’t hold back the tears. “How did you manage to grow up so wise and honorable and generous in such a short number of years?”
“I had great examples.”
“Mother.” Her compassion and grace far surpassed what Elizabeth could muster.
“And Rourke.”
24
It didn’t take long for Elizabeth to spot the holes in Charlie’s idea. She could not trav
el by ship unescorted, and there was no one to travel with her. Caroline would not do. Not only was she unmarried and Elizabeth’s age, but she could not return unescorted, which is precisely what she would have to do.
Since Rourke was a fugitive from the law, Elizabeth must remain on Harbour Island. Though Father had promised to give Anabelle to her, he had not yet done so. Therefore, Rourke had helped a slave escape to freedom. He would go to jail if he set foot in Key West or any state in the union.
Aunt Virginia certainly wouldn’t go with her. She despised wreckers in general and still thought Rourke more a pirate than a suitor. Elizabeth had no choice but to trust that God would reveal an opportunity.
Until then, she intended to discover where Captain Poppinclerk was located. Though Charlie dismissed her fears, she could not rest until she knew his whereabouts. That very afternoon she walked to the harbor to make inquiries of the shipping agents. The short distance proved taxing, even with the cool breeze.
As she neared the harbor, she heard the growl of machinery and shouts of workmen. A new warehouse was under construction. The coral rock foundation was already in place, and workmen were raising heavy beams with ropes and cranes. Elizabeth tilted back her head to watch.
“Best stay out of the way, Miss Benjamin.”
Elizabeth looked for the source of that warning and spotted a familiar figure. “Mr. Worthington. You are still here?”
He bowed. “At your service.”
“I expected you to rejoin Captain O’Malley at the first opportunity.”
“I shall, but no ships are headed that way.”
She caught her breath. Perhaps this was the opportunity she sought. A young bachelor might not be considered a respectable escort, but she trusted Tom. He would see her safely to Harbour Island. Moreover, he would not need to return.
He peered at her with an odd expression. “Is the sun too hot, miss? You look peaked. Let’s step into the shade.”
Her cheeks must have flushed at the thought of seeing Rourke.
Tom was well-mannered and respectful. He would do, if she could convince him. No doubt he would balk at the impropriety of a young man escorting a young lady on a sea voyage, but he might do it if he thought Rourke would approve.
Love's Rescue (Keys Of Promise Book 1) (Historical Romance) Page 26