Across Captive Seas

by Michele du Barry

  “When will he wake up?” asked Angela angrily and she frowned at the doctor’s noncommittal shrug.

  She had to talk to Scott now, not tomorrow or even two hours from now. With impatience Angela walked around the room, closely watched by the two soldiers. Lord, they were alert, as if they expected her to turn into a bird and fly away from them. Her eye fell on a pitcher of cold water and before anyone knew what she was about Angela picked it up, crossed to the bed and hurled the entire contents on Captain Latham.

  Spluttering and coughing he came to his senses and the first thing the captain saw was Angela with a satisfied expression on her face. He lifted his hand to his wet, aching head that pounded with such violence it made him feel nauseous. His face felt on fire and his eye throbbed beneath a bandage encircling his head.

  The Harrington bitch! Captain Latham fell back amidst the wet bedclothes and studied her carefully. She had done this to him and to add insult to injury had emptied a pitcher over him. He should have known better than to underestimate her; their last encounter in England was proof enough of that. She had looked like a shameless gypsy then, naked in that hovel with Jack Newton, utterly defenseless. Yet in a matter of minutes she had them all at bay. He should have expected no less of her this time.

  But now she was imperious, playing the duchess to the hilt as she set the pitcher down nonchalantly and said contumeliously, “I wish to see my husband—now!”

  Her husband—so she had married the duke! Lord Montgomery would be extremely upset at that disclosure. But there were always ways of getting rid of unwanted rivals and the situation Harrington was in at the moment might be conducive to that purpose.

  “I will let you see your husband this once,” Captain Latham said condescendingly, “but you will not see him alone again until we reach England!”

  Angela hurriedly gathered bandages, the medicine box, fresh clothes, and blankets; whatever she could think of to bring some comfort to Scott in the cold darkness of the dungeon. The soldiers examined everything carefully to make sure she was concealing no weapons and then led her downstairs. Angela smiled to herself as she realized they were somewhat in awe of her.

  “Angela!” Scott got painfully to his feet as she rushed at him and the door banged closed. He caught her to his chest holding her tightly. “My little Amazon! What a battle you fought, my hot-tempered wife. I'm glad I didn’t provoke you!”

  “Scott, how can you joke at a time like this?” She rushed him away. “Oh, your poor face! Sit down and let me bathe your wounds.”

  He obeyed and gave himself over to her tender ministrations. Both of his eyes were black, his bottom lip split, nose bloody; along with other assorted cuts and bruises. Angela worked quickly, concentrating on her task and Scott watched her through puffy eyes.

  From the very beginning he had known she was some rare kind of woman and her cool composure now only reinforced the notion. She was brave and beautiful and would dare anything for those she loved. Scott was extremely grateful that he was numbered among those few.

  “I was sure they wouldn’t let you see me,” Scott remarked, grimacing as Angela daubed at a cut. “Not after what you did to Latham!”

  The captain let me see you. I think the blow addled his brains and then being so rudely awakened with ice-cold water in his face—” She smiled, one of her dark eyebrows raised quizzically. “It must have been too much for him.”

  “But who would dare?” Realization dawned on Scott and he laughed uproariously. “You! Damn, I would have liked to have seen that! I can just picture it!”

  Angela couldn’t help joining in his laughter in spite of the sobering circumstances. “The two soldiers that were assigned to guard me and keep me out of trouble were absolutely dumbfounded. I believe they think I’m a cross between a Gorgon and a dragon!”

  “And so you are, love, at times. Angel,” his voice grew serious, “no matter what happens, always remember that I love you and will until the day I die.”

  “Scott, please!” Angela placed her fingers lightly over his mouth, her eyes large and bright. “Don’t mention death, not now when—”

  “Don’t worry, Angel,” Scott comforted, drawing her head down against his shoulder. “Nothing will happen. The charges won’t hold up in court for even one day. Just be my intrepid, loving little wife and I will take care of the rest. Everything will be all right.”

  “You said that before, this morning, but you were wrong and I have a feeling our troubles are not over yet! Scott, darling,” Angela murmured letting loose the tight hold on her tears. “Life without you has no meaning for me; I couldn’t possibly go on.”

  “Shh, don’t talk like that. We are rich and can hire the best barristers. There is nothing we can’t do together.”

  She let herself cry then thinking of Jack. She had hired the best barristers, everything had looked promising and now he was dead, his big, powerful body returning to the dust. Influence and money hadn’t helped; not even her own testimony had saved him. History seemed to be repeating itself and a cold dread entered into her as she curled herself tightly into Scott’s arms.

  PART TWO

  * * *

  Queen of Hearts

  England

  1807-1809

  Sorrow was all my soul; I scarce believed,

  Till grief did tell me roundly, that I lived.

  —George Herbert

  Chapter Four

  Jane Montgomery stood straight and tall behind the railing of the witness box. Her sapphire-blue eyes didn’t waver as she told a blatant lie and then another to save the life of the man she loved. Scott Harrington was on trial for murder, and her best friend, Angela, stared at her from the audience, her face a mask of misery.

  Things were not going well at all and smacked of a conspiracy—but between whom? Captain Latham was involved; it was obvious the man wanted revenge on Scott for making him look a fool in the past, and he made no bones about his feelings. But the others involved in the plot were nebulous. Who would want to destroy Scott?

  Jane took her seat again beside Angela and her long, slender fingers curled in her lap, trembling with suppressed nervousness. Her brother, Keith, had been her strength since the Harringtons’ ignoble return from the north and his advice had propped up her shaky resolve on more than one occasion. “Do what you must,” he had told her, the meaning in his blue eyes unmistakable.

  Could you do any less for Angela and Scott?”

  How convoluted the lives of the Harringtons and Montgomerys were, twisted tightly together like a skein of tangled wool. Keith and Jane had grown up as neighbors of Scott’s and had met Angela when she married his father, Percy, at fifteen. Jane had ruined her reputation by hiding Scott from the dragoons, had become his mistress and the decoy in his plot to save his men. Then Keith had become Angela’s lover, only to lose her to Scott. The knotted strands that bound the two families together could never be undone.

  “Couldn’t you have done or said more?” Angela asked gripping Jane’s hand painfully. “The prosecution tore your story to shreds!”

  “I have just perjured myself,” Jane hissed in Angela’s ear. “What more could I do? Do you think I like this anymore than you do? I’ve known Scott all my life and you know I would do anything for him. If I said anything further, then I would be involved and you could testify at my trial!”

  “Jane, I’m sorry! I’m just so upset. I can’t lose him. I love him too much!”

  Keith shot them a frown and they settled down quietly in their chairs like reprimanded school children. Keith had changed in the time Angela had been gone. He seemed much older and quieter; it had been a blow for him to find out that she had married Scott and even worse when Angela admitted that she loved him. Then the boy that he thought was his turned out to be Scott’s too. There were three counts against him already and he wasn’t going to let any more accrue.

  Angela glanced across the room at Scott. They were so close and yet so far away. As if he could feel her gaze upon
him he looked up and a warmth filled her as their eyes met like a kiss. She wanted nothing more at that moment than to be in his arms, oblivious to the rest of the world.

  They had a few snatched moments alone every day when Angela was allowed to visit him in his cell. She longed to pour out all her emotions and forebodings then, but he had enough to contend with so she kept silent. She also was quiet about another matter which she found impossible to ignore; she was pregnant again.

  When she first realized it, Angela had almost blurted it out with all the dread and fear bottled up inside. But what good would that do? There was time enough for that later after the enforced separation and if he was found guilty Scott would never need to know. Just the thought of that made her go cold and numb inside. Life without Scott stretched out in front of her a dreary, empty road, bereft of all pleasure and laughter.

  The judge adjourned for the day. It was all over except for the verdict. The testimony had been heard from both sides and a startling star witness for the prosecution had wrought havoc with the careful defense.

  Sally Grey, whose husband had been one of Scott’s comrades-in-smuggling, had swept through the courtroom like a storm leaving destruction and turmoil behind. She knew everything; every detail of every job they had done and since her husband Matthew had deserted her, sailing to Jamaica with Scott, there was no loyalty left in her. She spilled all of it into the eagerly waiting ears of London and they lapped it up and asked for more. Her testimony had been a well-placed bomb. But placed by whom, and how did she manage to turn up so opportunely?

  Sally even knew about the jailbreak and that Scott had been the ringleader of that adventure. He had approached her personally, urging her to sail with them but she had refused. So the death of the soldier was blamed on Scott along with three more deaths the night of the ambush and nothing any other witness had said seemed to help the case. The scales were clearly tipped in the prosecution’s favor, both he and Angela knew it.

  Angela dragged out of the courtroom, through the crowds and eagerly craning necks anxious to catch a glimpse of the infamous Duchess of Brightling. She had been through all this before and it was like a recurring nightmare. A young dandy jostled her and she pierced him with a cold stare.

  “Did you see that look she gave you?” laughed his foppish friend. “It would have frozen hell!”

  “I wouldn't mind trying to melt that iceberg. What a figure and look at those eyes! But from what I’ve heard she’s no snow maiden but a sizzling little—”

  Angela hurried on, away from the unspeakable things being said about her. How she would have liked to box that young man’s ears, but it would only fuel the rekindled fire of scandal and gossip that followed her everywhere she went.

  The night had been a long sleepless one for Angela and she sat quietly, the strain of the past months evident in her shadowed eyes and strained look. Scott stood tall and magnificently handsome, out of place in the stuffy courtroom, with chains on his hands. He belonged outside, like the powerful, lithe animal he was, in the place they both loved best—Scotland.

  The judge cleared his throat and all attention was riveted on him. “Scott Campbell Harrington, Duke of Brightling, you have been found guilty of the crime of murder.”

  Angela uttered a strangled gasp of protest and stood up, only Jane’s grip preventing her from rushing to Scott. Her face was drained of all color and her big, wild eyes filled with pain as the words penetrated into her mind and body like icy steel.

  The judge frowned at Angela and continued, “You are sentenced to transportation to Botany Bay for fourteen years.”

  A rush of murmuring voices broke the tomb-like stillness and Scott looking utterly defeated turned to Angela only to see her crumple to the floor. He became a madman and even the two armed guards couldn’t keep him from his wife. Scott leaped over the railing and sent everyone in his path flying until he reached Angela’s still form.

  He knelt on the floor and gathered her into his arms. “Angel, Angel!” The face he raised to Jane was grim with suffering.

  With shaking fingers Jane waved her smelling salts beneath Angela’s nose and her eyelids flickered open slowly, her vision filled with Scott’s concerned dark eyes. He smoothed her hair and kissed her pale face before the spellbound crowd.

  “It’s all right, love,” Scott whispered soothingly, “everything will be fine.” And while they clung together on the stone floor pressed in on every side by crowds of curious onlookers, the guards dragged them apart and took Scott back to his cell.

  “Jane,” Angela said clinging weakly to her. “Fourteen years!” She tried to get up but her legs failed her and Jane, afraid she would faint again signaled for Keith to take her out.

  As always, dramatic events surrounded the duchess, and the people watched silently as Keith picked her up and carried Angela half fainting to the coach. Then they began speculating on how long it would be before Lord Montgomery resumed his place as her golden lover; the man was clearly obsessed by her.

  The short ride home was an agony as Angela lay on the seat with her head on Jane’s lap while pains tore through her abdomen. At first she tried to ignore them but as the intensity increased she clutched her belly and rocked painfully back and forth.

  “My baby,” she cried to the consternation of Jane and Keith. “I’m losing my baby—and my husband!”

  They got her into the house and into a warm bed and sent for the doctor while Angela cried heartbrokenly. She wanted this baby desperately, more than she had ever wanted Lorna and Robert in the beginning. This was a child conceived in love and happiness amidst the autumnal splendor of the Highlands. This was the last child Scott would ever give her.

  The doctor came and went. If Angela stayed in bed for the rest of her confinement, there was a chance of her pregnancy going to full term. But she was to have no excitement or upsets and not to set one foot out of bed.

  It was impossible! She had to choose between seeing Scott again or bearing his child. And how could she keep from being upset? Her whole life hung in shreds and her husband was being shipped to the other side of the world to spend fourteen years as a convict.

  Angela couldn’t think. The medicine the doctor had given her was making her drowsy and the pains dissipated. She couldn’t make the decision. She would let Scott choose the course, the burden was too much for her now. He would have to know she was pregnant and ill, and choose whether they would see each other again.

  Jane entered the cell, surprised that it wasn’t as gloomy as she thought it would be. It was light and airy with a bed, chairs, desk, books, and a wash stand. Scott was obviously disappointed at her appearance, having expected Angela.

  “Is she all right?” Scott inquired anxiously. “She has been so courageous through everything. I’ll have to admit she gave me a scare by passing out like that.”

  “Scott.” Jane took both his hands in hers apprehensively. “Angela is very sick. She didn’t tell you before, to spare you, knowing you would just worry and be able to do nothing. She is going to have a baby, and she almost lost it today.”

  “Oh, no!” Suddenly deflated, Scott sank into a chair, his anguished face buried in his hands. “She should have told me. Is she in danger?”

  Jane sat down in the other chair, feeling rather shaky herself. “Yes, both of them are. Angela started having pains on the way home and it was very bad for a while. We thought she was going to miscarry. The doctor wants her to stay in bed with no disturbances for the next seven months, that’s the only way she can have it.”

  “This, on top of everything else! Just when Angela needs me most I’m penned up in this damned cell. Jane, Jane, what can I do?” Scott’s voice held the deepest despair. “Fourteen years transportation to some hellhole in a godforsaken land. This can’t really be happening; it’s too incredible, too awful!”

  Scott ejected a string of curses and strode to the door, shaking it, as if by wishing it everything could be undone.

  “It’s my fault, all
my fault,” Scott growled, swallowing the lump forming in his throat.

  “Scott, please get hold of yourself.” He had almost forgotten Jane was there, so quiet had she stayed. “I know that the whole world has come crashing down on you today, but Angela is the important one right now. You must help her.”

  “But how?”

  “She was talking wildly about coming to see you here, about breaking you out of jail! That’s impossible and we both know it, but you must convince her of that. Write to her, tell her not to. She is so distraught I fear she might do something desperate, and she is in no condition to even visit you. Order her to stay in bed. Plead with her, make her see the futility of such rash actions.”

  Jane broke down at last crying softly into her lace-edged handkerchief, and Scott went to her and held her gently in his arms. Her heart was heavy as she sobbed against his chest, wetting the ruffled front of his silk shirt.

  Scott’s hard arms pressing around her and the familiar masculine scent of him was too much to bear. Jane pushed away from him wishing she had the courage to tell him how she felt and kiss away his sorrow. It would be so easy to slip into their old relationship and forget their troubles for a few minutes in each other’s arms. She wondered if there would ever be a time when she wouldn’t feel this way, when some other man could claim her heart and body the way Scott had.

  “I’m all right now,” Jane sniffed wiping her eyes. ‘Write that letter now and I will take it home with me and give it to Angela as soon as she wakes.”

  So Scott sat at the desk and started writing the hardest letter he had ever composed. It took a long time and before he was finished there was a pile of crumpled sheets of paper thrown angrily to the floor.

  The days flowed as quickly as a torrent sweeping Scott and Angela along helplessly against their wills. They communicated through Jane and by letter, desperate to see one another once more before their final parting. Angela’s common sense told her she was doing the right thing but her heart shouted for her to get up out of bed and hasten to her love.