Wild Lord Taggart

by Tammy Jo Burns

  “Why can beauty hold danger?”

  “No. Why are you attempting to ruin this beautiful new land that we find ourselves in?”

  “I’m not attempting to ruin anything, Miss Hayhurst. I just want you to be realistic. Yes, it’s beautiful, but promise me you won’t be fooled into believing that everything will be perfect.”

  “I promise, Lord Taggart. I wish you well on becoming a plantation owner.”

  “Yes, well, thank you, I think.”

  “You sound nervous.”

  “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t. Having to oversee so much. Being responsible for so many people. I’m not certain this is what I really want. Then there’s the fact that I have neglected it for years.”

  “But you are here now, and that is what matters.”

  “Yes, but the workers might resent my presence.”

  “You will just have to show them that they can trust you.”

  “I hope it is that easy. Well, good luck on your husband hunt, Miss Hayhurst. I wish you all the best.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” Captain Adams approached them and Circe straightened away from the wall, weaving a bit. Reese reached a hand out to steady her. She looked up at him and gave him a grateful smile.

  “I’ve secured a conveyance for you, Miss Hayhurst,” Captain Adams said, drawing Circe’s attention away from Reese. “The driver knows your uncle’s plantation and will take you there. I’ll walk you over and you can sit while your trunks are being loaded.”

  “Thank you, Captain Adams. It has been a pleasure, Lord Taggart.”

  “For me as well, Miss Hayhurst.”

  Circe could feel Reese’s gaze on her as she once again took Captain Adams’ arm. She was climbing into the coach when she heard her name called by a deep and now familiar voice. A voice that caused tingles throughout her body. A voice that she would have to push out of her memory if she were to find a husband as she had planned. “What is it, Lord Taggart?” she asked sharply, irritated more with herself than she was with him.

  “Should you ever need anything, remember that my plantation is Windcrest Plantation.”

  “I promise you, my lord, I shall not need your assistance for anything.”

  “We are in a strange land, Miss Hayhurst. Do not be so quick to rule out my friendship.”

  “I hate to agree with him, Miss Hayhurst, but sometimes it is best to have an ally in place,” Captain Adams piped up.

  “Windcrest Plantation,” Lord Taggart said more firmly.

  “Windcrest Plantation,” she parroted just to appease him and Captain Adams. Once she was inside the coach, she watched him nod, wink, and shut the door. She waited patiently while the coach was loaded with her trunks and bags. The coach shifted as the driver climbed on and she heard his click and call to the horses. Finally, Circe was on her way to Briar Rose Plantation and her future.

  She watched with great interest as they made their way through Bridgetown in Saint Michael and turned southward towards Oistins in Christ Church. Circe was in awe of all the colors and smells that were unique to this island. The warm breeze brought the ocean smells to mingle with everything else and there were other unique smells she could not identify.

  Barbados was lush and green in a different way than England. She was in awe of the tall palm trees that swayed in the wind. Above the clip-clopping of the horses’ hooves, she could hear the waves crashing on the beaches they passed. Circe scooted across the seat and looked out the window towards the interior of the island. She could see mountains covered in lush vegetation rising to kiss the clear, blue sky. It was so brilliant a blue, and the sun so bright, that she blinked repeatedly. When she looked inside the coach, spots danced in front of her.

  It was not a terribly long time until they were turning off the main road and driving through a set of gates. They wound along the drive, slowing when a large house came into view. It was not all that different from an English manor house. It was a large, three story house with two large, staircases that turned back on themselves and led to the arched entrance. The exterior was a bright white with natural stone. Black painted shutters hung on either side of all the exposed windows.

  Surprisingly, it looked like many of the manor houses in England. Disappointment coursed through her. She had come here to witness the exotic, not what she found familiar and comfortable in England. Circe pushed the negative feelings away and focused on the thought that in a few minutes she would see Uncle Robert.

  “And your new aunt. Do not forget her,” she admonished herself.

  When the carriage rolled to a stop, and in her eagerness, Circe did not wait for the driver to open the door. She stepped out of the carriage and walked up one of the staircases to the entrance. She knocked on the door and tried to wait calmly for someone to answer. It did not take long before a pretty dark-skinned woman opened the door.

  “Yes?”

  “I am here to see Lord Hayhurst.”

  “I’m sorry, but he’s not receivin’ visitors at the moment.” The woman tried to close the door.

  “But, I am not just any visitor,” she countered and stuck her foot between the door and the frame. She winced a little when the door made contact with her foot. She hurriedly spoke, “I am Lord Hayhurst’s niece and have traveled all the way from England to see him.”

  “Oh, dear. What’s yer name, miss?”

  “Circe Hayhurst.”

  “Wait here, please.”

  Circe waited, a knot in her stomach. Something did not seem quite right. Uncle Robert had always been so kind that she could not imagine him not welcoming visitors. Finally, the door opened again and the same woman stood there. Circe looked closely at her and noticed she looked nervous, frightened perhaps.

  “Come in.” The woman stood aside, her eyes towards the floor, and allowed Circe to enter. “Follow me, please.”

  Circe followed her down a hallway and into a room off to the left. It seemed to be a parlor, an extremely beautiful parlor. The windows were open and allowed a slight breeze inside to cool the room. It was hard to imagine that if she were still in England there might be some nights that were still rather cold, but here, it was already hot.

  “Wait here. Lady Hayhurst will be with you shortly.”

  “Thank you.”

  The woman curtsied before she disappeared. Circe strolled around the room, touching the bric-a-brac that she came across. This was most definitely a woman’s domain. Nothing in here reminded her of Uncle Robert. The sound of shoes clicking on the floor startled her. She spun around in time to see a very stunning young woman standing in the doorway. She had hair almost the color of a raven’s wing, appeared to be about the same age as herself, and looked too well-dressed to be a servant. Curious, Circe crossed the room. Perhaps this was Dorothea’s daughter, Circe mused.

  “Hello, I am Robert’s niece, Circe Hayhurst.”

  “Circe, it is so good to finally meet you. Your uncle’s spoken so highly of you. I’m Dorothea, his wife.” The woman had a beautiful, very unique lilt to her voice that was slightly different than the maid who opened the door. Both of them intrigued Circe. But what the woman said last shocked her more than anything.

  “Dorothea?”

  “Yes. I know, I’m not who most people assumed Robert would marry. Our age difference alone cause most people to hesitate, but when Robert and I met, we fell in love almost instantly.”

  “I can see what attracted Uncle Robert to you. You are absolutely beautiful.”

  “Thank you. You are as well.”

  “No, but that is kind of you to say.”

  “Is your chaperone with you? Surely you didn’t make that long journey alone.”

  “Actually, I did. I had a chaperone, but the man she was in love with swept her away before we ever lost sight of London. I could not deny her being with the love of her life. So, she and her Franklin exchanged their vows, left the ship, and I continued on with the journey.”

  “And your parents are aware of this?” />
  “No, they are not. My parents have raised me to answer to no one.”

  “I doubt this is quite what they meant.”

  “Where is Uncle Robert?” Circe asked, changing the subject. “The maid that let me in said he was not receiving guests. Is something wrong?” Circe craned her neck, searching for any sign of her uncle.

  “Robert is upstairs in his bedchamber, resting. He’s been ill.”

  “Oh, no. I hope it is not anything serious.”

  “Nothing more than a slight sniffle and cough. I’m making my nanny’s special tea to help him through it.”

  “You must care a great deal about him.”

  “Robert is my everything. Now, tell me why you are in Barbados.”

  “Uncle Robert has begged my parents and me to come and visit with every letter he writes.”

  “And you decided to take him up on his offer. But where are your mother and father? Please don’t say something has happened to them. Robert would never survive knowing—”

  “No, nothing untoward has happened to Mama and Papa,” Circe interrupted Dorothea. “I insisted I come alone on this trip. You see, Mama and Papa are quiet well known in England for their unique relationship.”

  “Yes, Robert has told me about your mother and her beliefs.”

  Hearing it said that way irritated Circe. She loved her parents dearly, and yes, she had left England because of their reputation, but that did not give anyone else the right to talk about them.

  “Mama is very progressive for a woman in this day and age,” Circe defended her mother. “It is just that Mama and I have very different ideas as to my future. You see, Dorothea, I came to Barbados hoping that I could stay with you and Uncle Robert. I hope to meet my future husband here.”

  “Well, I certainly did. We would love to have you. I’ll have Angelique take you to a guest room. You must be exhausted.”

  “Not really.”

  “Then perhaps you’d like to begin unpacking.”

  “Now, that would be wonderful. And then may I see Uncle Robert?”

  “Of course. I think it would do him a world of good to see his favorite niece.”

  “I know it will do me a world of good to see my favorite uncle, as well.”

  * * *

  Circe stood amidst the chaos that was now her room. She looked at Molly, the maid that Dorothea had assigned to her. Molly had curls almost the color of cinnamon that continually escaped from under her mobcap. Her amber eyes darted around the room, never quite making contact with Circe’s. She noticed how Molly kept tugging down the sleeves of her dress and was curious as to why, but since she was new to Briar Rose Plantation, she remained silent.

  “Molly, are you as tired of all this unpacking as I am?”

  “Oh, no, Miss Hayhurst, I’ll work until all this is put away. I swear I will, miss. It will not be any problem for me t’ continue this if ye’d like t’ rest. I’ll just clear a spot here on the bed for ye t’ lie down and while I continue workin’.” Her Irish accent jumbled with something else was strange to hear on this island on the other side of the world from Ireland.

  “No, Molly. If you insist on continuing with this chore, then please go ahead, but I must escape if only for a while.”

  “Be careful, Miss Hayhurst.”

  “Careful of what?” Circe asked curiously.

  “Nothing, Miss Hayhurst,” Molly said, looking down at the clothes in her hands.

  “Please, you do not have to continue with such formalities, Molly. Is there something I should know? Something to do with my uncle?”

  “No, miss.”

  “Then I am going to see my uncle.”

  Molly gasped.

  “Are you certain there is nothing to tell me?”

  “No, miss,” she mumbled.

  “Very well then.”

  Circe left the room, shaking her head. Perhaps Molly was just worried that she would do or say something to offend the people that lived here on the island. Circe knew that Barbados was different from England, but surely it was not all that different. After all, Barbados was a British Island and even had a parliament. Perhaps Molly did not think it was proper that Circe wanted to see her uncle without a chaperone. Well, she had traveled a long way to see her favorite uncle and she was not going to put it off any longer.

  She walked down the hall and realized she did not have a clue as to which room was Uncle Robert’s. She tried one door but found it locked. As she continued down the corridor, she peeked into the rooms that were unlocked. There were only a few that she could enter. Circe saw a servant cross in front of her and she waved them down.

  “Excuse me. Excuse me,” she called again when it appeared the servant was going to ignore her.

  The servant came to a stop and slowly turned around, head bowed, gaze to the floor. Are all the servants taught not to look people in the eyes here? she wondered curiously.

  “Can I help you, miss?”

  “Yes, I’d like to know which room is Lord Hayhurst’s.”

  The servant hesitated before he answered. “Follow me, miss.”

  “Thank you.”

  He merely nodded before he turned and walked away from her once more. She hurriedly followed him down the hallway, turned left across a large balcony that overlooked the twin grand staircases that hugged both walls up to the second story in an echo of the ones she had seen outside. The difference was that the stairs inside were the most beautiful polished wood she had ever seen and a complimentary carpet ran up the middle of them to protect the steps from being scuffed, the outside stairs were made of polished white stone.

  She leaned over the rail and noticed an intricately inlaid pattern on the floor below, but before she could study it closer, she noticed the was leaving her behind. Circe quickly caught up to him as they turned left down another wing of the house. Her uncle’s room was at the very end of the hallway on the right. The servant inserted a key into the lock, twisted it, then turned the knob, and pushed the door open.

  “Thank you, Mr…”

  “Elijah, Miss Hayhurst. My name simply be Elijah.” He finally looked at her, just a flash before he was once more looking at the rug that covered the wooden floor. His eyes were kind and there was white mingled in with the black of his shortly cropped hair.

  “Thank you, Elijah.” She watched as he bowed low. She smiled at him as he passed her, even though he never looked up at her. Circe stood facing the door that separated her from her uncle and suddenly felt nerves set in. It had been years since she had last seen him, would he look the same? Would he recognize her? Would he treat her as he used to? Perhaps everything about him had changed since he married Dorothea. Shaking off her nerves, she raised her fist and gently rapped on the door.

  Chapter 7

  Having only three small bags, Reese rented a horse in Bridgetown with the promise that he would send it back with one of his stablehands as soon as he possibly could, certain he would have a stable full of premium horseflesh at his plantation. He asked for directions to the plantation to make certain Lord Jameson had been honest about how to find Windcrest Plantation. Jameson had not been in the most cooperative frame of mind after Reese had won it in a card game. Then again, if Jameson had wanted to hold onto it, he shouldn’t have bet it in the first place, Reese thought, practically.

  After securing the bags, Reese mounted the horse, and led it down the road he had been instructed to take. He journeyed southward, the road hugging the coastline. As he looked around at the scenery he passed, he could feel some of Circe’s enthusiasm for their new home, however temporary, or permanent, it might be. Everything here was lush and exotic, and the greenery was different from any he had ever seen in England, both brighter and lighter in shade. The water held shades of blue that he had never seen before and it sparkled like it had been infused with diamonds. There were boats and ships that bobbed out in the water and he could see their shadows in the depths.

  “Amazing,” he said to himself. “It looks as if
I could walk underneath them, reach up, and touch them with the tips of my fingers.” He shook his head and continued looking around in awe.

  He passed through several small towns and by large plantations on his way to Windcrest Plantation. The closer he got to his new home, the more excited he became. He didn’t know what to expect, but if the plantations he passed were any indication, he thought he might be pleasantly surprised and just might enjoy his future on this island. Along the way he passed several carriages, including Circe’s. It was hard to miss, what with all the trunks piled upon it. It took every ounce of his willpower to not look towards the coach, to not see if she was looking for him. The last plantation he passed before rounding a bend at the southern most tip of the island was Briar Rose Plantation. Roughly a quarter of an hour later, he saw a large gate that was showing signs of rust and listed on one side. A plaque on one of the stone pillars indicated this was his future, his home—Windcrest Plantation. He mentally filed away the fact that he and Circe were neighbors.

  Reese dismounted and walked over to open the gate since no one appeared to be in the gatehouse. It gave off a loud squeak and when he let go, he looked down and saw that orange striped his hand where the metal had rusted. The gate also dragged on the ground, cutting a large semi-circle into the earth. A sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. He mounted the horse once more and prodded him to walk up the winding drive. He saw the same lush, untamed greenery that he had along the road. When he had passed the other plantations, the foliage had been tamed, but not at Windcrest. It was wild and overtaking everything in view. Yes, he had a bad feeling, indeed.

  The horse neighed and reared up on its back legs, pawing at the air when a large snake left the shrubbery and slithered across the drive in a leisurely manner. The horse landed heavily on the ground, his front hooves hammering the snake over and over until it lay there, unable to hurt anyone or anything ever again.

  “Good boy,” Reese patted the horse’s lathered neck. “Come on, let’s keep going.” He spurred him onward, leaving the dead snake behind. They followed a curve and when the drive straightened back out the manor house came into view. Reese knew that Jameson was the one having the last laugh, or perhaps he had done this to himself, waited too long in coming. “Bloody hell!” he shouted, causing colorful birds to fly into the air, squawking as they took flight. Reese pulled back on the horse’s reins when he felt the animal try to bolt. “Shh, it’s all right, boy. Just some birds. Shh, there there,” he soothed the nervous animal, patting his neck softly.