Silver Moon

by Barrie, Monica

  If they didn’t return to Montego Bay, where did they go? And Colleen? Brace knew if he found Colleen, he would be able to get the answers.

  Forcefully, he made himself remember the many times he had spent with Colleen. Then it hit him. The old house! Colleen had taken him there several times. She had told him it was her private refuge. Her father never went there anymore; he always stayed at the inn. She went there whenever she could, to be alone.

  As the stable boy walked his horse past him, Brace reached out and took the pistol from its holster. After securing it at his waist, he fished out a coin and flipped it to the boy. “Put my horse by the docks. Make sure he’s tied securely.”

  The boy caught the coin, smiled, and nodded his head.

  Brace walked in the direction of the Simpsons’ old house. All the while, he wondered if he would be able to catch Elyse’s abductors before it was too late. That they were bound for England he was certain. What he needed to know was if their ship was at Kingston, or off one of the deep bays dotting Jamaica’s shores.

  When he reached the rundown two-room house, he paused at the door. Seeing it was partially open, he pushed it the rest of the way, and then waited. From inside, he heard metallic clinks.

  Stealthily, Brace entered the old house. He hadn’t taken more than three steps when he saw Colleen bent over a small table, counting out coins.

  He fought away the first surge of anger, making himself take several deep breaths before he spoke. When he did, his voice was coldly controlled. “Why, Colleen?”

  Colleen whirled when she heard Brace’s voice. She stared at him as if he were a ghost. Her face drained of blood; her hands began to tremble.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Ignoring the fear he saw in her face, Brace stepped closer. “Why did you do it?”

  Colleen took a deep, shuddering breath, and with it, a change came over her again. She straightened her shoulders, her hands calmed, and a trace of color returned to her cheeks. “Why? Are you truly so stupid that you don’t know?”

  She paused to study Brace’s face, and then shook her head. “No, you don’t. I love you, Brace, that’s why. If I can’t have you, neither will she!”

  Brace’s eyes flicked to the pile of coins on the old table. “Then it wasn’t for the money?”

  “The hell it wasn’t. What do I have here? Nothing! Everyone looks down on me, despises me. I’m a whore. No one will have me except to bed. I want a life where I can be happy. This money will buy me that!” She pointed a long index finger to the pile of golden coins.

  Colleen’s eyes filled with tears and, as she spoke, they spilled onto her cheeks. Her tears failed to move him; rather, they fed into the anger he held so tightly reined.

  “You sold her into a life of slavery for a few rotten coins!” His voice thickened as he spoke. Moving quickly, he grabbed her hair with his left hand and pulled her toward him.

  “I did it to save my life!” she stared directly into his eyes, unafraid of his threatening stare. “Will it make you feel better to hit me? Go ahead, do something…anything! Show me some emotion!”

  Brace stood transfixed as her pleas echoed in the air around them.

  Then Colleen smiled and pressed herself to him. She thrust her hips at him, rubbing her breasts against his chest. “Love me, Brace. I can make you happy.”

  Brace released her as a wave of disgust ripped through him. His body no longer reacted to her seductive moves; all he wanted was to be rid of her, but first he had to learn where they had taken Elyse.

  Brace forced the hard lines of his face to soften, and carefully he placed one hand on her shoulder. Moving it slowly, he caressed her shoulder, trailing his fingers toward her neck. An instant later, as a smile of victory grew boldly on Colleen’s lips; his fingers wound around her throat and began to close.

  Brace stared at her, his eyes narrowed, his hand tightened. “Where did they take her?”

  Colleen fought him, twisting from his hold. She reached toward her waist, trying to get her knife out, but Brace’s other hand caught her wrist. He stared into her eyes and waited. When the knife fell from her fingers and clattered to the floor, Brace released her.

  Colleen stepped back, her hands going to her throat, her eyes wide in disbelief. “You…you love her that much?”

  “Tell me where they took her, Colleen, and I’ll see that no one stops you from going where you will.”

  Colleen stared at him, and then, without warning, her sobs reverberated within the old house. She sank to the floor, tears pouring down her cheeks, her face cradled in the palms of her hands. “Damn you! Why couldn’t you love me like that? I…I’m sorry, Brace, I really am. They’re taking her to Kingston. They must have a hearing before the acting governor. He will declare her unstable, and her aunt will be named guardian.”

  “How are they going there?”

  “By land. A maroon is guiding them cross-island.”

  “Then they’ll be at least another full day.” Colleen’s sobs eased. Lifting her head, she looked at Brace. “There’s more.”

  Brace raised his eyebrows. “The other man—Jeremy Hollingsby. He’s going to marry her as soon as they are on board the ship to England.”

  “Like hell he will,” Brace stated. He started to turn, but stopped to look back at Colleen’s sad face; the only emotion he felt toward her now was pity. “Go, Colleen. Leave Jamaica. Go to America and try to find what you need. But don’t take what you want at the expense of others!”

  With that, Brace pulled out the small purse he always carried and let it fall to the floor. “Add that to your other money. Use it wisely.”

  “Brace…” Colleen cried when he turned his back to her, but he did not acknowledge her; instead, he stepped out of the house, and out of her life.

  He walked at a steady pace until he reached the dock, and the spot where the stable boy had tied his horse. He looked around thinking he had to get to Kingston by tomorrow. Sam Gracy’s sloop would do the job, if Sam got here in time.

  Sighing, Brace gazed out at the bay. When he did, his eyes landed on a merchantman. He recognized the Brittania immediately, and remembered his father’s story; the same people who had abducted Elyse had killed Amos McClintock.

  He watched the crew unloading the longboats at dockside. Among them, giving orders, strode Will McClintock. Without hesitating further, Brace went to where the men worked.

  When he got there, Will turned and saw him, his jaw dropping slightly in surprise. “I was just thinking about you,” Will said, extending his hand to Brace.

  Brace took it and shook it warmly. He and Will had known each other almost all their lives.

  “And I was thinking about you and the Brittania.”

  “Ready to try a sailor’s life?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “By the way,” Will said, “how is Elyse?”

  Brace was instantly alert to the change in Will’s voice.

  He looked steadily at Will, and as he did, his intuition warned him to be careful about what he said. While the men from Will’s crew went about their business, the same sixth sense that had always been a part of him, told him that Will’s question held more to it than politeness.

  Brace motioned Will away from his men, and after Will gave over the supervising to his first mate, he walked with Brace. When they were twenty yards away, Brace stopped. Without taking his eyes from Will, he told the entire story, concluding with Elyse’s abduction, and what he had learned from Colleen. He spared nothing of himself in the telling of his tale, and as he spoke, his earlier intuition proved him right; it was more than just friendly concern that had etched Will’s words.

  Will stared at him, anger suffusing his face. “You let them take her?”

  “In a way, I guess I did,” he admitted, “because of my foolishness, my pride.”

  “Does she love you?” Will asked, his eyes probing.

  “As I love her,” Brace stated truthfully.

  Will paused, his face d
evoid of emotion. When he finally did speak, his face was animated again. “Well then, I guess there’s only one thing to do…get her back!”

  “When?”

  “We shall leave tonight. The Brittania will be unloaded before dark. We’ll sail then.”

  “Will...” Brace began, but the force of his emotions cut off his words.

  “I understand, Brace, I do. Now, let’s get something to drink and make our plans.”

  ****

  Elyse was tired and sore as she tried to find a way of escaping her captors. The aching in her jaw had subsided hours ago, while the swelling of her lower lip was a constant reminder of her uncle’s fist. She had regained consciousness shortly after they’d left Devonairre, and had sat silently while they drove east for the remainder of the night, passing the far-flung plantations, until the sun rose and the day was full upon them.

  Elyse’s arms hurt terribly; her wrists raw. Every bump of the carriage produced a low cry of pain until Hollingsby, who had been staring at her with his veiled eyes, eyes that undressed her with every passing minute, relented and freed her wrists.

  Elizabeth argued with him, but Hollingsby won out, conceding to Elizabeth’s fears by tying her left arm to the side of the carriage so that she could not escape.

  When they reached the road overlooking Discovery Bay, the sun was almost at its zenith. Throughout the long, bumpy and dry ride, Elyse refused to speak to any of the three, no matter what they said.

  At Discovery Bay, their guide and driver turned off the main road and started into the foothills. They carried on for another hour before the guide stopped at an old shanty where everyone got out. The guide put out food and, after exchanging a whispered comment with Hollingsby, left. Elizabeth, Carl, and Hollingsby ate their fill, but Elyse refused to touch the food.

  “I don’t want you wasting away, my dear,” Hollingsby said, holding up a piece of cold chicken for her.

  Elyse turned away from him.

  Hollingsby, throwing the meat to the ground, stepped next to her; his hand stole around her, cupping her breast. Elyse tried to get away, but his other hand held her fast. “You should do your best to get used to my touch, my dear. For I plan on having you near me constantly after we’re wed, and I do enjoy the feel of you.”

  Elyse bit her lower lip with her teeth until she’d tasted blood. The flash of pain was enough to make his words go away.

  Half an hour later, the guide returned, bringing five saddled horses. A sixth was laden with supplies. Shortly after that, they mounted and started off. Their guide would be taking them through the mountains where no one lived except for runaway slaves.

  By nightfall, Elyse thought she would pass out, praying for a halt for the night so that she could sleep. When they did stop, Hollingsby and Elizabeth talked with the guide while Carl watched Elyse.

  “If we camp here tonight, when will we reach Kingston?” Elizabeth asked.

  “We be there by afternoon. Be there then for sure,” the guide replied.

  Elizabeth looked at Hollingsby. “We would have to wait another day. The Denhams might come for her by then.”

  “I rather doubt it,” Hollingsby replied.

  “I don’t. She slipped away from us once. I won’t let it happen again.” She turned back to the guide. “Can you take us there tonight?”

  “The mountains, they be dangerous. The woman, she be too tired to ride,” he said, pointing to Elyse’s sagging form.

  “Then she’ll be tied to a saddle. I’ll double the money if you get us there by morning,” Elizabeth offered.

  The guide looked from her to Hollingsby and back to Elizabeth again. He had been surprised at the strength the older woman showed. She didn’t seem tired at all. “It be dangerous; it be your life.”

  After waiting another fifteen minutes, the five riders were once again moving toward Kingston, and Elizabeth, uncaring of the soreness of her body, smiled evilly at Elyse.

  “Tomorrow, Niece, tomorrow I will have it all.”

  “We,” Carl corrected her, coming next to her and fixing her with a hard stare.

  Elyse, seeing the greed and the avarice written on their faces, shuddered, and renewed her efforts to loosen the new bonds that secured her to the saddle.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Damn those drums. I can hardly think!” Will declared, glaring angrily across the square at the two young boys who pounded the tautly stretched drum skins.

  As Brace watched them, a new idea struck him. Turning to Will, he smiled. “Maybe we can slow them down.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Drums! Voodoo drums. They use them for more than religious ceremonies. The maroons use them to send messages.”

  “And how does that help us?”

  “You’ll see.” Brace looked at the position of the sun in the sky. “How long before you’re ready to sail?”

  “Four hours, at least.”

  “Then I have enough time to go to Devonairre and return.”

  “More than enough. But why?”

  “To send a message. Want to come?”

  Will gave him a sideways glance. “You’ve got me too involved to sit around and wait for you.”

  Ten minutes later, both men rode at a full gallop to Devonairre.

  “They couldn’t have picked a better damned time!” Charles swore after hearing Brace’s tale. He looked from his son’s face to Will McClintock’s hard-eyed stare. “The governor is on his annual trip to London. Randolph Albright is about as greedy an acting governor as there is.”

  “Then there’s no doubt that if they reach Kingston, they’ll get their way?” Brace asked.

  “None!” Charles declared. “You must stop them, somehow.”

  Brace nodded his head. “We have a plan, but I’ll need your help.”

  “I would hope so. I’m not yet old enough to be put to pasture. What is my part?” In that instant, as father and son gazed at each other, Brace realized his role with his father had evolved into something new.

  “Will and I are going to Kingston on the Brittania. We will make port by mid-morning, at the latest. If they don’t stop for the night, they’ll arrive by sunrise. From what you’ve told me of the Sorrels, they’ll not waste time. The hearing could possibly be over before we get there.”

  “More than possibly,” Charles stated.

  “I need you to go to Lucea’s village. Have her send out the message to the inland mountains to slow down their passage.”

  “Dangerous. If anything should happen to them, the reprisals against the slaves would be horrible,” Charles reminded Brace.

  “Tell Lucea that they must be slowed down. Not harmed.”

  “All right.”

  Brace stood; Will did the same. Ann gazed at her son and then went to him. “Be careful, Brace,” she whispered.

  “As careful as I can be,” he promised.

  “What if they cannot be slowed down?” Charles asked. “What if they make it, and have their hearing?”

  Brace held his father’s gaze with his own, but he did not speak.

  Ann, watching the tension-filled scene, could no longer hold herself back. She turned to her husband and took a deep, preparatory breath. “You must tell him the rest,” she pleaded.

  Brace looked from his mother’s concern-filled face to his father. His father closed his eyes for a moment, and then, slowly, nodded his head. “Wait here,” he ordered Brace.

  Puzzled, Brace waited as patiently as he could. A full five minutes elapsed before his father returned, and when Charles entered the room again, he carried a leather envelope.

  “Sit down, Son.”

  Sensing something important, Brace did just that.

  “When I told you about my past, I told you only part of it.” Charles’s eyes flickered to Will’s puzzled expression, but quickly returned to his son’s face.

  Brace stared at him. “It doesn’t matter. I understand what happened to you. I accept it, just as I realize that it
makes no difference to me. None!”

  Ann went to her husband’s side, bent, kissed his cheek, and then looked at Brace. “This might. It may be a way to save Elyse.”

  Confused, Brace held back his questions.

  “As I told you, it was King George the Third who condemned me to death and then pardoned me into debtor’s prison. George was insane at that point, did you know that?”

  Brace shook his head.

  Charles opened the leather envelope and withdrew several documents. Brace’s eyes went to them, and saw they were yellow with age.

  “In 1810, Prince George became England’s regent, ruling in George the Third’s name. It was the prince, foremost among my father’s friends, who had led the fight to have my sentence commuted. Shortly after he became Prince Regent, he sent me these papers.” Charles handed Brace the papers. “The first is a declaration of pardon. In it, he absolved me of any crimes, including that of being a debtor. The second paper is the restitution of my family titles. The third is the restoration of all the Wadworth family lands.”

  Brace scanned the sheets, and then looked back at his father. “You…you are still the Duke of Wadworth?” he asked, half in shock.

  Charles shook his head. “No.” He reached into the leather envelope and withdrew more papers. “By the time all of this happened, I had married Ann, and you had been born. I had also come to the realization that the life I had once led in England was a life I no longer wanted or needed. I was happy here with you and Ann. These papers,” he said, handing them to Brace, “name you heir to all my estates, and settle upon you the right to call yourself Earl of Gloucester, Duke of Wadworth. I executed these papers seventeen years ago, and Prince George, your cousin, signed them. And this,” Charles added as he withdrew a large, golden signet ring, “is the symbol of your rank.”

  Brace gazed at his father for a long time, and then at the ring. Hesitantly, he took it from Charles’s hand and placed it on his own. From the corner of his eye, he saw Will staring, his mouth half-open.