“I won’t,” she readily agreed. “Next time you might not be there to rescue me.”
“If anyone ever tried to harm you, I would damned sure…” He lowered his eyes and looked shamefaced. “Begging your pardon, ma’am—what I mean to say was I will try never to fail you.”
She offered him her hand and he squeezed it lightly.
“I know you won’t, Cappy. But promise me that no one, not even Thorn, will know that I am the one who purchases the Victorious. In any event, do not tell the solicitor, since he may feel compelled to tell Thorn.”
Cappy did not like the thought of going behind Captain Stoddard’s back. “But why not tell the captain, Mrs. Stoddard? Surely he would approve of your actions.”
She smiled. “You know him better than anyone, Cappy. You know that Thorn is a proud man. It is my belief that he would lose everything before he would allow me to help him.”
Cappy was reflective for a moment. “I suppose you are right.”
“Then you will keep my secret?”
He grinned broadly, thinking the captain was a most fortunate man. “To the death, madame—to the death.”
“Hurry along, Cappy,” she said, feeling the urgency. “It is a long ride into town, and we want this to be done as quickly as possible.”
Cappy took the chest and moved to the door. “I will do as you say,” he told her as he left the room and headed toward the stables.
Brittany moved down the hallway and into the front parlor, where she went to the window and watched Cappy mount his horse. When he glanced in her direction, she waved to him and watched until he rode out of sight.
He was on his way to save the Victorious.
As Brittany moved toward the slave quarters, the cobblestone steps glistened from the rain that had fallen earlier in the day. The shadows were lengthening into evening, and the garden was filled with the vibrant throbbing song of the whippoorwill.
Since she had become a frequent visitor at old Esmeralda’s cabin, the other slaves no longer stared at her when she came among them.
Esmeralda was rocking in a hard-back chair, and her dark eyes lit up with pleasure when she saw Brittany. “Pull yourself up that cane-bottom chair and sit a spell,” she said, pointing a knobby finger at Brittany.
Brittany sat down wearily. “The rain cooled things down,” she observed.
“That it did.” Esmeralda leaned back and studied the swaying branches over her head. “I heard ’bout your dunking in the river the other day. It don’t seem you are any the worse for it.”
“How did you hear about it?”
“I have my ways.” She looked into Brittany’s eyes. “You’ll want to be more careful, you know.”
Brittany did not want to remember that awful day; it was still not clear in her mind what had happened. “Have you finished weaving your baskets for the day?”
The wise, dark eyes saw past the polite chatter. “You have more on your mind than baskets and the weather. You want to tell me what’s bothering you?”
“No, not until I sort past my confusion. Instead, will you tell me about Thorn? What was he like as a boy?”
The old woman’s eyes became reflective. “He was always a bright boy. Since his ma died when he wasn’t much more than a babe, he was always at his pa’s heels. The two of them was close…until that woman came.”
“You do not like Wilhelmina, do you?”
“Did I say so?”
“No, but—”
“Then don’t put words in my mouth.”
To Brittany’s surprise, Esmeralda pulled a corncob pipe out of her pocket and popped it into her mouth. Since it was unlit, she merely chewed on the stem.
“Master Thorn was always a good-looking devil. You can bet the girls hung around Stoddard Hill just wishing for a look from him. He was always one who loved the ladies.” Esmeralda chuckled. “My, my, but the ladies loved him.” Suddenly her eyes dulled, and she poked the pipe back in her pocket. “Young ladies weren’t the only ones who cast their eyes Master Thorn’s way. There was those who were bound to make trouble for him—and they did.”
“Esmeralda, when I first arrived at Stoddard Hill, Wilhelmina hinted at something between herself and Thorn. I did not believe her.”
A mask seemed to descend on the wrinkled face. “I don’t fuel gossip by adding to it. If you want to know ’bout that, you best ask your husband.”
Brittany shook her head, knowing Esmeralda would say no more. She shrugged her slight shoulders. “Everything is so confusing. I live in a world that I cannot comprehend. I have learned that there is dishonor and deceit in this world. I am beginning to think my mother did not prepare me for life. She was trusting, and she instilled that trust in me. I have since learned to be suspicious.”
“Maybe your ma hoped you wouldn’t have to know that good don’t always win, and evil can sometimes be stronger.”
Brittany’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that your husband is a good man, but there are forces around him that will try to pull him down. You’re the only one who can help him.”
Brittany’s heart skipped a beat. “What forces?”
“I think you already know.”
“There are those who have sailed halfway across the world to see Thorn fall. I wonder if I alone can hold them all at bay?”
Esmeralda settled back against the chair and rocked furiously. “If I was you, I’d worry more about them that was closer to home that mean him harm. And while you’re about it, you might want to be careful yourself.”
“I sometimes don’t know friend from foe, Esmeralda.”
The old woman’s eyes narrowed. “Trust no one in the house except Matty and her daughter, Livia. And, of course, Master Thorn’s man Cappy.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
Esmeralda looked about to make certain no one was near. She then leaned closer to Brittany. “I will say no more. Just heed my warning. Don’t let anyone lure you away from here with any pretense.”
Thorn was seated across the table from the two men empowered by the Senate to question him. The interrogation had been going on for hours, and Thorn felt his patience slipping.
One man, a Mr. Balsome, looked at his companion, Mr. Whitting, with a grave expression. It was apparent to Thorn that neither of them believed him.
“Let’s go over this again, Captain Stoddard,” Mr. Balsome said wearily. “You said you were attacked by four Turkish warships and only returned their fire to protect yourself?”
“That is correct.”
“Are you asking us to believe that your ship took on four Turkish ships and you came out the winner?”
“Yes, sir. That is exactly what happened.”
Thorn could read disbelief in each man’s eyes. “Are you also asking us to believe that you had a woman on board your ship and you were not aware of it?”
“That is correct also, Mr. Balsome. She was a stowaway at that time.”
Mr. Whitting, who wore thick bifocals that made his eyes appear twice their size, leaned into the table. “Are you aware that the Turkish government has lodged serious charges against you?” He shuffled some papers in front of him. “First of all, you stand accused of kidnapping the girl whom they claim is a Turkish citizen. They demand her release at once.”
“I did not kidnap her, and as I have told you over and over, she was a stowaway on my ship.”
Mr. Balsome spoke up. “Tell us what you know of the woman’s situation.”
“The lady’s name is Brittany Sinclair. Her father was an American, and her mother was British. Although she was born in Turkey, it is arguable as to whether or not she is a citizen of that country.”
“Do you know the girl’s whereabouts?”
“I do.”
“We may call upon you to produce her since the Turkish government demands her return.”
Thorn crossed his long legs and looked at each man in turn. “I am not prepared to tell you her whereabouts,
and she will not be returning to Turkey under any circumstances.”
“Will you defy a direct order, Captain Stoddard?” Mr. Balsome challenged.
Thorn nodded. “You’re damn right I will in this case. You see, the lady in question has since become my wife, and I have no intentions of giving her up to my government or the Turkish government.”
Shock registered on Mr. Balsome’s face, while Mr. Whitting blustered, “This is preposterous.”
“Nevertheless, the lady is my wife. I foresaw that this might happen, and wanting to keep her out of Turkish hands, I gave her the protection of my name. And I believe by law that gives her the protection of the American government.”
Mr. Balsome folded his hands and suddenly smiled. “By God, to think that you took on the Turkish Navy and won! Now you’ve outsmarted them again. I always said our ships were worth two of those from any other nation. But to sink four ships! My boy, I am amazed.”
Thorn came to his feet wearily. “Gentlemen, I believe I have answered all your questions to the best of my ability. My father is ill, and I have been away from my wife for three weeks, and I’m going home.”
Mr. Whitting stared down at a paper before him. “I am not at all convinced that you will not have to produce your wife, if she is indeed your wife.”
“She is. I can easily prove that—”
“Like my colleague, I, too, am impressed by your fighting ability,” Mr. Whitting interjected. “However, just between the three of us, we are dealing with a madman in Selim, and as a representative of our government, I may be forced to make a gesture of reparation in the sultan’s direction.”
Thorn stood unbending. “I don’t feel that I owe the Turkish government anything. Not the Victorious, and certainly not my wife.”
“Nevertheless,” Mr. Balsome stated, “it is my judgment that you will soon be ordered to hand over to a representative of the Turkish government your ship, the Victorious. We will decide later about your wife.”
Thorn stared at the man in disbelief, but he said nothing.
Mr. Whitting spoke with conviction. “And may the damned ship sink before the Turks have use of it.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
When Brittany entered the dining room, she was surprised to find Wilhelmina seated at the table. The older woman’s eyes were spiteful and knowing; there was no sign of her earlier display of friendship toward Brittany.
“Good morning, Brittany. So, your wayward husband still has not returned. Did you pass a peaceful night, hmm?”
Brittany picked up the porcelain teapot and poured a cup of reviving liquid. “I slept very well, thank you.” She moved to a chair and sat down.
“I suppose it is easy to sleep when one’s husband is not in one’s bed to disturb one’s rest.”
Brittany attempted to mask her anger. She detested this woman’s common insinuations. “What a considerate hostess you are, Wilhelmina, that you should concern yourself so much with my comfort.”
Wilhelmina’s eyes blazed with vindictiveness. “I am told that there are men still searching for your man, Achmed.”
“Yes. I have come to realize that Mr. Deavers only pretended to know where to find Achmed. I do not know his reasons for such a pretense, but I am certain Thorn will discover the truth when he gets home.”
Wilhelmina suddenly paled. “I hope you are not blaming me for your mishap. Dr. Cross and I were as shocked by what happened as you were. We trusted Mr. Deavers, but he misrepresented himself.”
Brittany looked directly into Wilhelmina’s eyes. “I have come to the same conclusion.”
“Do you really think it is necessary to tell Thorn what happened?”
“Why should I not?”
Wilhelmina leaned toward Brittany. “Thorn does not seem overly interested in your welfare. He has been away an uncommonly long time.”
Brittany would not give this woman the satisfaction of knowing the barb had wounded her. “I will not tell Thorn about the incident, but I feel certain Cappy will.”
Wilhelmina shoved her plate aside and studied Brittany with a practiced eye. “That man, Cappy, annoys me. Every time I turn around, he’s underfoot. I want you to tell him to leave immediately.”
“No,” Brittany said flatly. “I would never presume to tell Thorn’s first mate what to do.” She smiled. “I would not advise you to, either. Thorn might not take it kindly.”
Wilhelmina tried to hold on to her temper. “I have observed Thorn when he looks at you, and I am puzzled.”
“About what?”
“There is no light of possession there, no warmth. Why do you suppose that is?”
“Perhaps if you spent more time worrying about your own husband and less worrying about mine, you would be far better off.”
Wilhelmina tossed her napkin on the table and stood up. “I have always thought that those who soar the highest, fall the hardest. Watch out that you don’t take a tumble.”
Brittany stared at Thorn’s stepmother, for her words had sounded very like a threat. She looked into eyes so cold that it sent shivers down her back.
“As you will recall, I already fell. But you can be assured that I will step carefully next time, Wilhelmina.” Brittany took a sip of her tea. “Thank you for worrying about my welfare. I am sure Thorn will express his gratitude for your solicitude upon his return.”
Wilhelmina rose to her feet. “You think you have Thorn, but you don’t. You will never understand the needs of a man like him.” Her eyes narrowed. “God, he must be bored with an innocent like you.”
Brittany was saved from replying when Wilhelmina rushed out of the room.
Brittany’s hand trembled as she raised the teacup to her lips. Never had she been subjected to such ruthless behavior. She neither knew how to react to it nor the reason for it.
She stood up and moved quickly out of the dining room, with the intention of going outside for a breath of fresh air. When Brittany moved past the parlor, she noticed the door was slightly open, and she heard the mumbled voices of Wilhelmina and Dr. Cross.
Brittany stood as if rooted to the spot when she saw them locked in an embrace. She took a quick step toward the front door, hoping she could escape before they discovered her presence.
Suddenly the parlor door was flung open, and Wilhelmina gave Brittany a haughty look.
“Are you in the habit of skulking around corners to listen to others’ conversations?”
“I was just passing by on my way outside.” Brittany turned to the doctor, choosing to ignore Wilhelmina’s rudeness. “How is my husband’s father today, Doctor?”
He cleared his throat and jammed his hands into his pocket. “I fear Mr. Stoddard has had a turn for the worse. He is very weak. I do not expect him to live through the week.”
Brittany saw the look that passed between the doctor and Wilhelmina, and she wondered at the reason for it.
“Thorn should be notified at once. Can we send word to him in Washington?”
Wilhelmina’s expression was hard and spiteful. “The doctor was just telling me that your husband returned during the night.” Laughter rolled off her lips. “Poor little wife, your husband seems to go to great lengths to avoid you, does he not?” she taunted.
Before Brittany could answer, Thorn himself entered the room his eyes going directly to his wife. Brittany wanted to run into his arms, but she dared not, because there was no sign that she would be welcomed. She was hurt that he had not let her know he had returned, but she would not allow Wilhelmina to see that hurt.
“Thorn, thank God you have returned,” Brittany exclaimed. “The doctor has just told me that your father is worse.”
There was a look of desperation in Thorn’s eyes as he faced the doctor. “Is there nothing you can do to make my father more comfortable? He is in a great deal of pain.”
“I have given him all the medication I dare. I regret to tell you that your father’s situation is desperate. There is nothing more I can do for him.”
&
nbsp; Thorn’s expression hardened. “Are you telling me there is no hope?”
“I would be less than compassionate if I allowed you to hope needlessly.”
Brittany wanted to rush to Thorn and give him what small comfort she could. But instead, she stood with her hands clasped together, wishing he would at least acknowledge her presence.
Without another word, Thorn moved out of the room, and Brittany rushed after him. Her heart was breaking for him, and she wanted to be with him at this dark time in his life.
Quietly, she followed him up the stairs. When they came to his father’s bedroom, he opened the door and nodded for her to enter. When she lingered near the door, he motioned for her to join him at his father’s bedside. Slowly she moved forward, dreading the thought of watching Thorn’s father suffer.
The odor of medicine hung heavy in the air. The man on the bed was pale and listless, and she saw nothing about him that looked like Thorn.
Benjamin groaned and tossed his head back and forth, flinging his arms wide, while his eyes glazed in pain.
Thorn caught his father’s wrists and talked to him soothingly. “You will feel better if you don’t fight, Father.”
“Margaret,” Benjamin murmured. “Margaret…the pain…”
Brittany stepped to the water basin and wet a cloth, which she applied to the old man’s head. “Who is Margaret?” she whispered to Thorn.
“My mother.”
She touched Benjamin’s head and found it clammy. She could see that he was in agony, and his condition reminded her of one of the women in the harem who had eaten some tainted food and had almost died from the poisoning.
Always quick to make a decision, she caught Thorn’s arm and motioned him to the corner of the room, noticing that he looked haggard and needed a rest. “Thorn, I know you are going to think I have completely lost my senses, but would you turn your father’s care over to me?”
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