by Sara Donati
Elizabeth took a single step backward. Perhaps Stoker saw that he had pushed her too far, because his own expression slipped suddenly from a knowing grin to a scowl.
“Mrs. Bonner?”
A stranger at her elbow, bent almost in half in a low bow. She spun around to him in her anger.
“Yes?” More sharply than she intended, but he did not flinch.
“Please pardon my intrusion, madam, but I understand you are in need of passage to Montréal.”
A gentleman, deferential of manner, with a kind smile and a face to make anyone gasp in horror. Elizabeth had never seen any person quite so ill-favored by nature, without a single normal or well-turned feature. But his accent marked him for a man of breeding and education, his etched silver buttons and Holland linen for a wealthy merchant with excellent taste, and there was a sharp intelligence in his mild eyes.
“Shove off!” barked Mac Stoker from the gangplank. “By what right d’you come stickin’ that ugly gob of yours in me business?”
Captain Stoker might have been invisible for all the attention the stranger paid. His respectful expression remained, his head bobbing deferentially to his sunken chest, hands wound together before him. Elizabeth followed his example, and inclined her head. “You have me at a disadvantage, sir.”
“I beg your indulgence for a moment, madam, and pray you will pardon the necessity of such an informal introduction. Horace Pickering at your service. I bring word from your cousin, Viscount Durbeyfield.”
Elizabeth felt herself flush with excitement. “From Will! Sir, this is good news indeed. What report does my cousin send?”
He lifted one shoulder in an apology. “He asked me to keep an eye out for you, and if I should see you here, to take you and your charges to meet him—in Montréal. Time is of the essence, as he put it to me. If I may point out the Nancy? You see we docked not a half hour ago.”
A great calm moved through Elizabeth: their luck had finally turned. “The Nancy is your vessel?”
Stoker snorted, but Pickering only bowed again. “I am her captain for the moment.” And at Elizabeth’s brow, raised in tacit request for more detail, he inclined his head. “The Nancy is available for my use while I conclude some business for my employer in Canada. The ship I command is at dock in Québec.”
If Stoker were not breathing down her back, Elizabeth might have been able to formulate the many questions that needed to be asked—foremost and most important, how this man knew Will, and why someone of such obvious position would take on this task. Will could not have told him of their business in Montréal, and so neither could she mention it to him. As it was, she did not have the luxury of a longer interview. “Your timing is excellent, sir. I am delighted to accept your kind offer of assistance.”
“We came to an agreement!” Stoker roared.
“Mr. Stoker,” Elizabeth said. “The cost of passage on the Jackdaw is too high.”
Stoker went suddenly silent, his face as icy cold as his tone. “You think passage on the Nancy will come any cheaper? There’s more than one kind of pirate on the St. Lawrence, me darlin’.”
Captain Pickering cleared his throat roughly, but Elizabeth held up her hand, wanting to settle her business with Mac Stoker on her own terms.
“Pirates are the least of my problems, Mr. Stoker.” She managed a polite nod. “Captain Pickering, I must return to my children momentarily—”
The captain produced a broad smile that showed off a row of tiny white teeth. “May I be of assistance?”
Elizabeth saw Stoker’s gaze on her. She wanted to ignore him but his expression, all knowing condescension, made it very difficult.
“Thank you, sir. But we will come to the Nancy as soon as we are able.”
He bowed, and over his back Mac Stoker winked at her.
Elizabeth ran up the stairs of the public house with her skirts held high, pulled forward by the angry howling of two hungry infants.
“Thank the Lord,” said Curiosity, thrusting Daniel toward her. “These children just about turnin’ themselves inside out.”
Hannah was at her elbow, tugging gently on her sleeve. “Is everything all right?”
“We have reliable passage to Montréal,” Elizabeth said. “On a fine ship called the Nancy. I believe you can see her colors from here. Ouch!” She shifted Daniel to a more comfortable position, and accepted Lily from Curiosity. When the twins had settled to their task, she looked up. Curiosity was studying her with a combination of worry and doubt.
“Thought you went to talk to that Stoker.”
“We could not come to terms,” Elizabeth said. “We are much better off on the Nancy, even so. It was my cousin Will who sent Captain Pickering to fetch us.”
“Hmmpf.” Curiosity picked up a clean but damp winding cloth and shook it out with a snap. “How did he manage that, I wonder?”
Elizabeth would have told Curiosity more, if it were not for Hannah. But she could not speak of the gallows in Montréal in front of the child, as much as it would ease her own burden to share the news. “Will would not have engaged Captain Pickering’s services if he were not sure of his reputation. He is wellborn, and a gentleman.”
“Richard Todd’s a gentleman, too,” Curiosity reminded her. “And he caused you enough grief.”
Hannah had been following the whole exchange with a sober expression. “Runs-from-Bears will be with us,” she said. “We will be safe.”
“Yes,” said Elizabeth. “Bears is waiting downstairs. As soon as we’re ready he’ll go down with you to the Nancy.”
“And where will you be, missy, while we’re doin’ that?” Curiosity was staring at her as if she were sixteen and bent on illicit escapades.
“I have some inquiries to make,” said Elizabeth. “There is still the matter of getting out of Montréal again when our business is done there. I will not be an hour, I promise. We sail at sunset.”
Hannah’s cool hand on her shoulder, all her worry flowing clear as a cold spring down Elizabeth’s spine. She turned her head and kissed the smooth copper skin. “All is well, Squirrel,” she said in Kahnyen’kehàka. “I promise you.”
Gallows at the garrison gaol, whispered another voice inside her. Elizabeth rubbed her cheek against Hannah’s hand, and willed the voice away.
She was only a hundred feet away from the Jackdaw when Runs-from-Bears caught her up; Elizabeth sensed him even before she turned around.
“I thought you were going to see the others to the Nancy,” she said, trying to strike a normal tone of voice and cursing the color that rose on her cheeks.
“An officer came from the ship for them,” he said. “I was more worried about you, Bone-in-Her-Back.”
Elizabeth straightened her shoulders. “You of all people know very well that I am able to take care of myself, Bears.”
He blinked at her, his face immobile, and Elizabeth knew that he would wait for her to tell him what he wanted to hear until the sunset. His patience was without end, she knew this from experience. Elizabeth let her shoulders roll forward. “This is something I must do on my own, Bears.”
“The Irishman is trouble,” he said. “We do not need him.”
Elizabeth glanced around herself, and lowered her voice. “But we do. How are we going to get away from Montréal, once the men are free? He has a ship, he knows the waters, and for the right money he will not ask difficult questions, as Pickering would most certainly do.”
Bears pursed his mouth. After a moment he said, “I do not like it.”
“Nor do I. I like none of this.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Let us go talk to him, then. There is not much time.”
She pushed out a heavy sigh. “Very well,” she said, wondering that she could be both relieved and ill at ease. Elizabeth smoothed her hair and then she met his gaze, full on. “Mr. Stoker knows about Jack Lingo.”
Runs-from-Bears grunted softly. “That is just why I am coming with you. Look, he is waiting.”
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nbsp; Sweet Mac Stoker stood on the deck of his ship, hands on hips, watching them. Elizabeth pulled herself up to her full height, and went to meet him.
“Mr. Stoker,” she began. “We were wondering if we might engage your services in another matter.”
He grinned. “For the right price, darlin’. For the right price. Come along, and we’ll talk.”
Elizabeth and Runs-from-Bears came to the Nancy just as the sun was about to set. Above their heads the first star showed itself in a sky that melted from blue to rose; on the horizon a group of willows and crab apples showed tender green sprinkled with white blossoms. Overhead, gulls turned and spun, calling to one another. Captain Pickering was at the rail to offer Elizabeth his arm as she stepped onto the shining oak deck, his poor face as bad as she had remembered it. But both the captain and his ship were in impeccable condition, so that for the first time in days Elizabeth was acutely aware of the shocking state of her traveling clothes. And still Pickering bent to her hand as if she were dressed for presentation at court; if he noticed that she was trembling he gave no sign of it.
“You honor us, madam. I trust your business has been favorably concluded?”
How strange and vaguely comforting to deal with Englishmen again, who needed so many words for so little purpose. But she was thankful to this man with his unfortunate face and his kind eyes, and so she nodded politely. “As well as can be expected, thank you.”
Elizabeth introduced Runs-from-Bears to the captain, the whole time observing how Hannah bounced impatiently on the balls of her feet as if she would fling herself into the heavens. Even Curiosity’s doubts had been laid to rest, if the expression on her face was any indication.
The captain was all condescension and good manners. “I will leave you to your family,” he said, bowing. “There is time enough to meet my officers and the … other passengers. I hope my cabin will be satisfactory, but if there is anything you desire …” And with a funny little smile he bowed and withdrew, leaving the question of Elizabeth’s desires unresolved.
“Well, I hope this will serve,” Elizabeth said grimly to a beaming Curiosity. “For otherwise we shall have to steal a dinghy and row to Montréal ourselves. Hannah, you are flushed. Have you had a look at the cabin?”
“Yes, we have,” answered Curiosity for them both. “And we like it fine. Don’t we, child?”
“Oh, yes,” said Hannah, almost laughing out loud. “We put the babies down, but maybe you should go check on them.”
Elizabeth looked between them. “What has got into you both?”
“Gettin’ closer to home, is all,” said Curiosity, putting a hand on Elizabeth’s arm and pivoting her toward the steps that would take her to Pickering’s cabin.
Elizabeth went, with a glance over her shoulder to Hannah, who was still grinning absurdly as she tugged on Bears’ arm, chattering at him in Kahnyen’kehàka. It had been a very long day, too long to pursue whatever was at the bottom of this strange behavior. Passage on the Nancy was certainly a piece of the best good luck, but it did not change what was to come: they had built gallows in Montréal. It was a sentence that jangled in her head like loose coin, there at every turn with no escape.
She passed through the narrow and dimly lit corridor to Pickering’s quarters, blinded now by the last of the sunlight that sifted through the shutters in flickering bars. Elizabeth made out the narrow bed, the table set with silver and linen for supper, a desk of gleaming mahogany, its cubbyholes spilling paper. And on the far side of the room, a man in a rough white linen shirt and dark breeches bent over the basket where the babies slept. A sharp shiver of fear slid up Elizabeth’s spine. She looked around herself for some kind of weapon, but he had already heard her.
His head came up as he turned, the long line of his back straightening.
Nathaniel. Elizabeth stepped backward, feeling the door at her shoulder, so solid and real. She blinked, and still he was there: Nathaniel. He touched the basket as if to steady himself and she recognized his hand as she would her own: the turn of his wrist, the long, strong fingers. The muscles worked along the column of his neck as he swallowed convulsively and swallowed again.
“Aren’t you going to talk to me?” he whispered from the other side of the cabin, ten feet and an eternity away.
Her hands were shaking so badly that she had to clasp them together, hard enough to make her wince. “Are you real?”
His smile was so familiar and full of joy that it burned her to look at him.
“Never doubt it, Boots.” Suddenly he was in front of her, his hands closing around her upper arms as her knees began to give way. He smelled of strong soap and of his sweet self, Nathaniel. He leaned down to her, his hair swinging forward to touch her cheek.
“I am real,” he said. “And by God, wife, so are you.”
She might have answered him but he cut her off. He was all a blur to her, for she would not close her eyes even as her mouth went soft and open and slack with want and need to meet him. Then Nathaniel broke away and wiped her wet cheeks with his fingers, crooning small comforting sounds. And he kissed her again, the taste of him sending small shocks into every corner of her being.
“Nathaniel!” she said finally, gasping for breath. “You are supposed to be in gaol! What are you doing here?”
He pulled her to sit beside him on the cot. “Rescuing you.”
“Rescuing me?”
“Didn’t they tell you on deck?”
“No,” Elizabeth said. “They most certainly did not, the rotters. I thought you were a pirate. Does Captain Pickering know you are on board?”
He laughed out loud at that. “Of course. Did you think we stowed away?”
“But how—”
He kissed her again, her grinning pirate of a husband. “We broke out night before last and headed straight here to keep you from going upriver. By God, Elizabeth, you had me scared out of my wits.”
“You were scared!” Indignant, she grasped his forearms as hard as she could. “Runs-from-Bears came to me this afternoon with the news that gallows have been built at the garrison gaol. I have never been so frightened.”
“It was close, that’s true. But we got away before they could try us—”
On the heels of relief a new kind of dread. Elizabeth tightened her grip on him. “The entire army must be looking for you. And what’s become of Will?”
“He’s on his way to Québec—probably there already.”
“This is a fine mess,” Elizabeth said. “Why is Will going to Québec? It makes no sense.”
“It does if you think about the way things look for him. He shows up to negotiate us out of gaol and the next thing you know, we escaped. Somerville asked Will to chaperone his daughter to Québec—testing him, is the way Pickering looks at it. So Will’s in the clear, Boots, and you’ll see him soon enough.”
“But how shall I see him if he is in Québec?” Elizabeth felt suddenly dizzy. “We are going to Québec? But I want to go home!” She was mortified by her own childish tone, and still more by the tear that spilled down her cheek. But he simply wiped it away and held her.
“God knows we all do, Boots, but Somerville’s got troops looking for us all over.”
“Nathaniel, Québec is in the wrong direction!”
He kissed the palm of her hand. “We can’t go overland with the babies, not with Somerville set on tracking us down. We’ve got no choice but to go north and look for a ship there that will take us home down the coast from Halifax. If it weren’t for Moncrieff and Pickering, we’d be in a worse scrape than we are already.”
Elizabeth struggled to order the hundreds of questions that came to mind. “I don’t understand why Pickering should go to such trouble for us.”
“He’s a friend of Moncrieff’s.”
“Moncrieff.” Elizabeth had all but forgotten the Scot and his mission to find her father-in-law. It seemed very unreal right now, and utterly unimportant. “This is very confusing, Nathaniel.”
; He nodded, smoothing her hair. “I can’t tell you exactly how it came to pass, except that Iona got to Pickering through Moncrieff. And more than that, I can’t pretend I ain’t worried. We’d rather set off overland on our own, but it just ain’t safe.”
He met her eye but something flickered there, unsaid. It was absurd, the idea that the three of them should somehow be unable to get away—Hawkeye and Robbie and Nathaniel could slip into the forests and Somerville would never be able to put his hands on them. Because she could not deny the truth to him or herself, Elizabeth said what he would not. “I should not have come.”
Nathaniel caught her face between his palms. “Listen to me, Boots. I was never so glad to see anybody in my life as I was to see you on that dock.”
She laughed then, covering his hands with her own and touching her forehead to his. “But I’ve made things so much more difficult—”
“We’ve been in worse spots,” he said against her temple.
“Not by much,” she muttered.
“I knew you’d come.”
She frowned at him. “Did you now?”
“Boots,” said Nathaniel softly. “I never doubted you for a moment.”
She sighed then, and let herself collapse forward, her head finding the hollow of his shoulder. His arms came around her and she felt the knot of anxiety that had fueled her forward movement for all these weeks begin to unravel.
“We’ll manage,” Nathaniel whispered. “We can manage anything, you and me. Look at those babies, after all.”
As if she had heard her name called, Lily’s curly head rose over the edge of the basket. She blinked at them, and then the small button of a face began to collapse in on itself, tears springing into the blue eyes.
Nathaniel was across the room before Elizabeth could move, lifting Lily into the crook of his arm and crooning in the same tone she had had from him just moments ago. Elizabeth could not quite put a name to his expression, half worry and half relief. Her throat tightened with tears and she swallowed them down, determined not to weep.