Dangerous Weakness

by Warfield, Caroline

  “For the baby? Not much, I think. It is time, or near enough. She won’t wait for rescue.”

  “Lily, I wish—”

  “Hush. You do what you can. What woman could ask for more?”

  “If we were in London—” he began again.

  “If we were in London, women would close ranks, a midwife would order me about, and you would hide at your club safe in the knowledge that you were not needed,” she smiled. “I rather like having you close by.”

  Her words warmed him but did little to calm his fears. Women died in childbirth even with expert help.

  “Then I will stay here, wife.” He pulled a blanket up around her shoulders and rested his hand there.

  “I don’t mean you must be in my pocket all day,” she said on a yawn. “Go, prowl the village. I will be well for a short while.” She yawned again. “Let me sleep. I need to save my strength.”

  He pulled his hand away and rose. He stood and watched her for a long moment before turning to the door.

  He paced the short length of the village lost in thought; he reviewed His Majesty’s fleet in his head. What is the fastest vessel? How fast can it get here from London? He considered how long it would take the Foreign Office to gather the ransom. There would be discussion and debate. Castlereagh had declared that England must not pay ransom. Will he make an exception? He might if he found it in England’s interest. His Grace would take steps to rescue his heir, but he might not hurry, and he was not likely to raise dust over Lily.

  Any way Richard calculated it, he hated the answer. Help might reach them in the full sixty days, but even that seemed unlikely. Now? Much too soon. The baby will not wait for rescue.

  Without a conscious decision, his steps turned to the path up the cliff. How far from here does the coast lay? Perhaps I can spy a landmark to help me calculate it. His persistent logical mind reminded him that shoals and currents could not be so easily calculated. He had rejected escape once before, and he ought to do so again.

  Too late, echoed in his mind as he climbed the path. Too late to try. Too late to leave Lily alone.

  He knew with sudden insight that even in London no women would pry him from her side, at least until the event itself. However unfashionable, however déclassé, even in London he would see Lily through the birth of his son. Nor would he leave her now even for a well-intended effort to seek help.

  He stopped his climb, numb with the realization that events moved relentlessly forward and he could do nothing to stop, delay, or prevent what would come. The ragged blue robe whipped around him while he stood suspended halfway up, unable to go forward, unwilling to climb back down. He knew only one thing with clarity. Lily matters more to me than anything else ever did, more than duty, more than the damned House of Sudbury, more than England. I would die for her.

  Before he could turn, a shout drew his intention upward on time to see the boy on duty pelt down the hill and brush past him shouting alarm.

  Chapter 36

  If Lily could have slept, it would have been brief. Izza barged in soon after Richard left, dislodging a cloud of dust, disrupting Lily’s sleep, and devastating her peace of mind.

  “You not come today, Zambak,” she said. “Grandmother sent me to check on you.” She fluttered around Lily in concern. “Grandmother worries. Is it time?”

  Lily pushed herself up on one arm and attempted a smile. “I am well. Tell Grandmother thank you,” she said.

  Izza dropped to the floor and sat cross-legged, prepared for a long chat. Any hope Lily had for solitude died.

  “Do you wish a boy or a girl child, Zambak? Me, when I have children, will have only boys.” The girl began to chatter about her nonexistent children, listing the names she planned to give her sons and the exploits they would have.

  “They will bring much honor and much coin to their mother,” she assured Lily. Lily shuddered, thinking how Izza’s sons would obtain coin for their mother.

  The baby chose that time to push hard against Lily’s diaphragm. She must have her feet up under my ribs. Strong legs. Will she be a horsewoman? Lily smiled at that thought and then winced when the baby kicked again, harder against her ribs.

  “Starting now, Zambak? Shall I get Grandmother?” The girl looked disappointed when Lily told her no. Lily realized she had all the curiosity of any young unmarried girl and hoped to learn things from Lily’s experience.

  “Do you think it will hurt very bad? My friend Mara said very, very bad. A woman must be strong, no?” When she launched into a tale of her aunt’s cousin who died and her baby with her, Lily began to search her mind for a way to get rid of the girl.

  “I think I would like to speak to Grandmother,” she said.

  “I can bring,” Izza replied. She jumped to her feet.

  “No, I can go.” Lily tried to rise but fell back onto the bed. Izza held out a hand and helped her up. The girl had a kind heart. She’s the enemy, Lily. Accept her kindness and return it if you can, but don’t forget she’s not your friend.

  Lily staggered to the door of the hut. Izza skidded to a stop just outside, alerted by shouting in the village. If the previous event had been cause for excitement and celebration, this one engendered panic.

  “Men say ship comes, Zambak. Not one of ours!”

  Villagers ran in every direction. Women gathered small children close and hustled them into their houses. Men rushed toward the uncle’s house. Some people ran up the hill to the lookout point. More of them gathered above the cove.

  Richard had disappeared. Lily glanced toward the cliff, knowing he probably went there. She couldn’t attempt the climb, not with so many others jostling on the path. Izza beckoned her toward the cove, and Lily hesitated only briefly before she made her ungainly way to the crowd above it. Curiosity won out. Richard said it was too early for the rescue, but what if he were wrong?

  She stood with the others and squinted into the sun until a spot came into focus below the horizon. The ship sailed in from the north. She could make out very little. Could it be Ottoman? Dutch? The Dutch, she thought, have diplomatic relations with the Barbary States.

  A group of men ran from the uncle’s house, passed through the crowd, and hustled down the hill. Two she recognized as men from Hamidou’s crew stayed above.

  Around her, people pointed and shouted. Fear marred some faces, and anger others. Wasila caught sight of Lily and wheeled around, pointing at her and shouting. She barged toward Lily as if to knock her down. Before Lily could step back, one of the pirates stationed his body between Lily and the enraged woman. Wasila continued to rant and point to the ship. The man ranted back.

  Why is this man helping me? She remembered him as the kind-faced one who had helped her aboard ship but could see no reason for him to come to her defense.

  Lily looked frantically for Izza who could translate Berber into Turkish. The girl had disappeared. Below she could see that the frigate had been brought in close to shore due to high tide. Hamidou’s men were hoisting anchor and preparing to escape the cove. Some people cheered them on, but the crowd thinned as others melted away to seek their houses. To hide? Store their possessions? Gather weapons?

  I shouldn’t be here in this crowd. She turned her head frantically from side to side. She couldn’t find Izza any more than she could find Richard. Should I go back to the hut? Should I hide? Where is Richard? I need Richard.

  She began to inch away and turned for one more look at the approaching ship. As she looked, it turned and its flag unfurled in the sun. The Union flag. An English ship!

  “Hamidou says you come,” a harsh voice said in heavily accented English. “You come now.” She looked up into the harsh face of the guard she had thought kindly.

  The English ship pulled up and turned fully broadside to the frigate in the cove, trapping it. It lay some yar
ds out, but Lily could see its cannon aimed directly at the cove, at the frigate and its crew, and at the village.

  A rough hand clamped tightly on her arm.

  “You come now,” the man said.

  “You promised safety!”

  The harsh light in Hamidou’s eyes frightened Richard more than the knife in Scarface’s hand that lay cold against his neck. A second Corsair held his arm at a painful angle behind his back.

  “So I did,” he said, as calmly as he could muster. “They have to see me, alive and well, first. If they don’t, I promise nothing.”

  Hamidou signaled Scarface, a mere twitch of eyebrow, and the man backed off an inch.

  “They will. They will see that your life is in my hands,” Hamidou replied. He looked behind Richard. “Where is the woman?”

  “Not in her hut,” a voice replied. “Meddur went to the cove to look for her.”

  Richard didn’t need a translator to identify the spew of words from Hamidou as curses. “We have no time for foolishness,” Hamidou barked. “Bring the English.” He swept out of the house in a billow of red robe and menace.

  Richard, half pushed and half dragged, stumbled over the doorway. They rounded the house and had almost reached the path to the cliff before the man Meddur caught up, panting and shouting. He pulled Lily along beside him; her ungainly gait the obvious cause of his delay.

  Richard’s captor loosened his grip, and Richard took advantage to pull Lily into his arms. The click of a trigger pulled back echoed over the commotion around them. He turned his back to it, shielding Lily. When did they bring out firearms? They must have stored them in the uncle’s house.

  “No time for this,” Hamidou growled. “Climb now.” He waved his sword and led the way upward.

  Richard held his arm around Lily’s waist and helped her climb. “I am sorry, more sorry than I can tell you,” he murmured against her ear.

  Lily, white lipped and drawn, merely shook her head. They reached the top, and a cluster of seven men, the core of Hamidou’s crew, surrounded them. Hamidou barked orders. Strong arms pulled them apart and faced them toward open sea. The pain in Richard’s twisted arm paled beside the sight of Lily, great with child, in the clutches of a ruffian twice her size.

  All seven held the newly uncovered firearms that Richard had not seen before. One corsair, and then another, pointed their Portuguese snaplock muskets at Richard.

  Scarface snatched off Lily’s headdress and lifted an ancient but deadly looking flintlock pistol to her head. Her red hair tumbled to her shoulders and swirled in the wind. Their captors pushed them forward to the edge of cliff.

  Richard forced his attention to the spectacle below. A fully rigged ship of the line had pinned the pirates’ frigate in the cove. It lay broadside, the island within range of its 32-pound guns. Marines lined the deck—armed, red coated, and ready for action. The Union flag snapped in the wind.

  Can they see us? He looked down at the rags he had been given with which to cover himself. No one looks less like a marquess than I do. If they see us, will they recognize us? Lily’s hair, flying in the wind brushed his cheek; Richard smiled grimly. Surely no Berber has hair that color—or the color of mine for that matter. The captain must make out that much in his spyglass.

  Hamidou, who had hopped up onto the highest rock to Richard’s right must have the same thought when he forced them forward. He stood with his feet planted wide apart, one hand on his hip, and waved his sword in circles above his head.

  Time froze. The ship of war neither attacked nor backed down. The men holding them stood firm. Richard could smell the fetid breath of the man pinning his arm and hear the rasp of it in and out.

  After an eternity, or perhaps a few seconds, he saw movement on the ship’s quarterdeck. A ship’s officer in blue appeared among the red-coated marines, and two men in civilian clothes followed him. The officer raised a long pole and unfurled a massive banner, a white flag of truce to propose a parlay. Neither he nor the civilians made any further move.

  “They wish to talk?” Hamidou asked.

  “It appears that way,” Richard said. “You best reply in kind.”

  Hamidou looked as if he meant to refuse, but he called to a boy who had followed them up the hill. The boy ran and returned quick time, carrying a sheet. Two pirates pushed Lily aside so that she moved closer to Richard. He grabbed her hand and hung on. The two pirates unfolded the sheet between them and held both ends.

  Lily turned so that her left shoulder lay against Richard’s right. Scarface, distracted, dropped his gun. All eyes watched the ship of the line.

  The civilians waved their arms as if agitated, and sailors moved to lower a small boat. The officer in blue came over the side and began to climb down to the bobbing boat. They were coming to talk.

  Chapter 37

  Lily felt the tension in every cell of Richard’s body. They both strained to watch two men make their precarious way down a rope ladder to the yawl heaving in the waves beneath them where four sailors manned oars. Neither man looked accustomed to the task.

  The first man descended awkwardly but arrived safely. The second moved painfully slowly and fell at the last, falling with good fortune into the landing craft.

  “Andrew,” Richard breathed, “you damned fool.”

  “Andrew Mallet?” Lily demanded, startled.

  “I suspect so. The man who just fell favored one leg, as my brother-in-law does. He’ll feel that for a long time.”

  Lily squinted toward the landing craft that pushed away from the ship and began its journey to the island. She couldn’t make out faces. They were soldiers, all of them, Richard’s friends. But they are also family men, safe at home with their wives and children.

  “How can that be? It has only been fifty-two days since you sent that message.”

  “I’m damned if I know,” he growled. She felt his breath coming rapidly in his chest.

  “This has to be good, doesn’t it? They will have brought the ransom, and Hamidou will let us go,” she said. She shot a surreptitious glance at Scarface.

  Richard didn’t answer. She looked up then and recognized the look he had when his brain worked over time analyzing all possible outcomes, most of them bad.

  “Don’t,” she said. She raised a hand to his cheek.

  “Don’t what?” he asked, grasping her hand.

  “Review all the possible ways this could blow up, all the reasons why it could go wrong.”

  His eyes held hers. “Just remember, Lily. Whatever happens here, I love you and I did my best.”

  He loves me! It echoed in her heart, but she had no time to savor it.

  “Enough!” Hamidou barked. “You have been seen. They look like they mean to talk.”

  Lily looked out at the yawl that moved rapidly toward the island.

  “We go down now and see how we can avoid English traps,” Hamidou said.

  Strong arms hauled her away and kept her upright down the rugged hill. Others forced Richard down in front of her, in spite of his effort to turn toward her. They frog-marched him swiftly though the cluster of houses toward the cove.

  Lily followed as best she could, grateful that her captor accepted the limits of her condition. By the time she reached the rise above the cove, her breath heaved and she felt faint. Her captor dropped her arm, but when she teetered, he put a hand under her elbow to steady her. Such a mix of violence and gentleness! Will we ever understand these people?

  Hamidou, Scarface, and the others holding Richard gathered above the cove. The uncle and a few other villagers stood around. Most villagers hid in their homes or on the rocky far side of the island.

  From her place slightly behind the men, she could see that the yawl had reached more than halfway to the island and closed rapidly. The civilians sat sh
oulder to shoulder in the center. One most certainly was Andrew Mallet. She could now see that the other was the Earl of Chadbourn. Relief warred with fear, and her vision began to dim, but she forced herself not to faint. Richard’s friends had come for him.

  “No gold until we talk to His Lordship.” For a man who would rather be a farmer, Will managed aristocratic hauteur well enough.

  Hamidou’s men searched the boat and the terrified English sailors. They found nothing. Richard watched his friend take control of the situation after Hamidou demanded gold “Or your English lord will die on this beach.” Keep it up, Will. These animals don’t respect weakness.

  “Harm any of us, and the HMS Boreas will reduce this island to gravel,” Will retorted. He and Hamidou took each other’s measure for a fraught moment.

  “Understand me,” Will went on. “Your blood money is aboard ship. When we have the marquess and his lady safe, you will have it.”

  “They stay until we have the gold,” Hamidou spat back. “And know this. Your lord promised safety to the people of this island. If he does not deliver that, I cannot promise the safety of his wife.” Hamidou looked slowly up to the top of the rise, slow enough for Will to follow, and fixed on Lily who stood pale and shaking in the clutches of a Berber pirate.

  Will’s eyes widened at the word “wife,” but he looked where Hamidou pointed. He paled slightly at the sight of her and looked at Richard in surprise. “Nothing happens until my colleague and I speak with His Lordship. Privately.”

  Hamidou waved a hand, and Lily’s captor led her downhill. “Very well,” he said. Another gesture and Scarface raised his pistol to place it against Lily’s head, hatred in his eyes “You may talk,” Hamidou concluded.