Tired, she replied as if in a dream, “Yes, I think you may call again, Captain Hawkins. And I wish you a safe journey.” If not success.
Later, after pacing the floor with her heavy thoughts, Travay dropped into her canopied bed in the wee hours of the morning. Fear for Lucas’ safety gripped her mind and kept her from relaxing. Hope tried to rise in her heart that he had given up piracy, but had he?
Another question burned in her mind: Should she tell her aunt the whole sordid story about Roger Poole and his pursuit of her? She had tried to block from her mind the night she’d jumped from the cliff into the Caribbean. She had only told her aunt about her stepfather’s mistreatment and her decision to come to Charles Town. Perhaps Sir Roger would not be able to discover where she and her aunt lived, at least for a while.
She punched her pillow and turned over, hoping for sleep, but a face came into her mind: John Sutherland’s. Lady Drake seemed to accept him as a well-to-do Charles Town merchant, perhaps a good catch for someone’s older daughter. But Travay remembered the way he danced, so light on his feet like a swordsman, even though he was a big man. And his strong, tanned hands were hardly the hands of a merchant who sat at a desk. A soldier, perhaps. Just before sleep overtook her, she saw again the surprising color of his eyes. The man had eyes like … Lucas.
CHAPTER 11
The following morning, as Travay concluded the finishing touches to her toilette, a carriage pulled up below, in front of the house. She hurried to the window and drew aside the curtain as a man stepped from the carriage. She gasped.
Sir Roger Poole had found her.
She pressed her lips into a tight line and tiptoed into the hall. Stopping behind a planter at the top of the stairs, she leaned forward to hear what Roger might have on his mind. She hoped her aunt would tell him that she would sleep for some time after her late night at the ball.
When the knocker sounded, Mama Penn’s heavy steps trudged from the kitchen to the door. Sunshine flowed through the entrance as she opened it.
“Good morning. I have come to see Lady Merle Allston. I am Sir Roger Poole.” He handed the servant a card and stepped across the threshold. Travay shivered with dislike at the sound of his voice as well as his pompous attire. His flamboyant green jacket and breeches fit like a glove, and he boasted a white silk shirt with a lace cravat and more lace at his wrists. He also wore a full brown wig that curled to his shoulders.
Mama Penn took his hat and cane, muttering as she turned to take the card to Mrs. Allston.
Travay smiled at the woman’s distinctive harrumph. Roger Poole could not fool the African woman, who was wise in the ways of worldly men.
“Who is it, Mama Penn?” Travay’s aunt came up from the parlor and stopped mid-stride to stare at their visitor. Of course, her aunt would be surprised at what seemed like a fine-dressed gentleman coming to call. Travay shook her head. He was no gentleman.
“Hello, do I have the pleasure of greeting Lady Merle Allston? Let me introduce myself. I am Sir Roger Poole, and I’ve come to talk to you about your niece, Travay.”
The man bowed. Merle extended her hand and smiled.
Travay’s stomach roiled.
When the two withdrew to the parlor, she slipped silently down the stairs and positioned herself in the shadows beside the parlor door. Her heart pounded against her ribs
“I am so honored you were able to receive me, Madam.” Sir Roger proceeded to tell Travay’s aunt who he was, being sure to mention his ownership of estates in Charles Town and Jamaica.
“Yes, I do remember that the Pooles had an estate next to my husband’s brother here in the Charles Town area. Are you part of that family?” Her aunt sounded impressed.
“Yes, but I’ve lived in Jamaica the past ten years. In fact, since my parents were lost at sea.” Finally, as if saving the best for last, Roger bragged, “You may also be interested in knowing I am the newest member of the Charles Town Council.”
“Oh, and are you—and I suppose you have a family of your own—planning to live in Charles Town now?” Merle asked.
“I am, although I have no family to speak of. That brings me to my reason for visiting this morning.” He cleared his throat. “I came to speak to you about your niece, Miss Travay Allston. Since our Charles Town estate was next to her father’s, we grew up together, and I also was acquainted with her mother and her stepfather later in Jamaica.” He paused and assumed a sympathetic countenance. “Before they passed.”
“Her stepfather has passed too?” Merle’s voice sharpened with interest.
“Yes, I’m afraid he died some weeks ago. And, sad to say, he left nothing of an inheritance to Travay.”
“Oh.” Her aunt’s voice dripped with disappointment.
Travay leaned against the wall. She felt only relief at her stepfather’s death. Now he could not hunt her down and force his will on her. She grimaced. The same could not be said of Sir Roger. She peeped around the door at him.
“Your niece and I know each other very well. In fact, I … wondered where she had gotten to until I saw her last night at the Drakes’ ball.” Sir Roger paused and glanced around her aunt’s sparse parlor. He moistened his lips. Travay knew exactly what the man was probably thinking—that her Aunt Merle, and hence Travay, had limited financial resources.
“I am glad you and Travay are acquainted.” Merle’s voice rose with something new—hope. Then she added, “Travay has a number of acquaintances.”
Travay shrank back and bit her lip, worried her aunt might be fooled by his act.
“I will come to the point, Lady Allston. I’ve decided it is time for me to settle down and have a family. I have loved Travay since we were children, and I would like to ask her hand in marriage. I can give her a secure future.”
He stood and paced across the room. Travay pressed deep into the hall shadows.
When he stopped his parading, he took a seat closer to her aunt and leaned toward her. “I know Travay will come of age soon and can decide for herself, but I felt led to come to you with my suit first. Please tell me, is there any hope for me, dear Lady Allston?”
Travay stiffened. Her hands tightened into fists. Aunt Merle, don’t let this snake fool you. Tell him no, no, no!
“Well, I will certainly talk with Travay later, but she’s not available at the moment.”
Merle’s voice sounded too kind. Had he deceived her? Travay blinked back hot tears. She started to slip back up the stairs when Sir Roger’s next question stopped her step in midair.
“May I call again tomorrow or later this week and see Travay?”
Her aunt’s answer came after only a brief hesitation. “You may call again the day after tomorrow, on Friday. Come to tea at four o’clock.”
“Thank you, my good lady. Thank you. I look forward to Friday.”
Travay fled to her room, tears scalding her cheeks. She would tell her aunt the whole story about Roger Poole. And Merle would want to protect her. But she knew Roger well enough to know nothing her aunt could do would stop his pursuit. He would do whatever it took to break down all hindrances to anything he wanted. If only Lucas were in Charles Town, he’d know what to do. Even the English captain might have been some help. But he had sailed away on the morning tide.
Lucas pored over the new map of the Spanish trade routes. “Thorpe, this map is great. How in the world did you come by it?”
Dwayne Thorpe smiled. “I was busy last night with important things while you danced the night away with the Charles Town belles. Somebody had to keep his head.”
Lucas threw a quill at him, which he ducked. “How soon can you get up a good crew for the Blue Heron?”
“A couple of days for a crew and supplies.”
“You’re a good man, Thorpe. Get Sinbad to help. We’ll sail with the tide Friday at dawn.” Lucas stuffed another breakfast roll into his mouth.
“Aye!” Sinbad shouted from across the room.
“Sinbad’s been ready for weeks.” Thorpe pic
ked up the quill from the floor and placed it on Lucas’ desk. He walked out the door, toward the dock and ale houses, with Sinbad’s big form swaying by his side.
As soon as he could finish dressing in his merchant garments, Lucas—in his white wig and pince nez—visited Reverend Wentworth’s small house at the edge of town. Seema opened the door to his knock. Her eyes glittered with what he was sure was some kind of secret. Had she guessed who he really was? And had she kept up her relationship with Byron Pitt? He frowned. If the answers were yes to both questions, she could cause problems. Pitt would love to know about Lucas’ Charles Town disguise.
Seema lowered her lashes. “The minister and his wife have just finished breakfast and have gone out to the garden.”
Lucas strode past her to the back of the small plot where his friends sat on a shady bench.
“Good morning,” he said, taking Hannah’s hand when she offered it and bowing. “I came to say goodbye and ask your prayers for our voyage. We sail at first tide Friday.”
“So you are going on your search?” The minister’s voice lowered as his gray eyes glanced back at the house, then to Lucas’ face. “Are you sure this is the best thing, the wisest thing to do, Lucas?”
“I’ll never rest unless I find out what happened to my mother, Ethan, and whether my father truly did succumb.”
“Then we will pray for God’s help and protection to guide you on your way, dear friend.”
Hannah nodded and shielded her eyes from the morning sun as she studied Lucas’ face. “We certainly will.”
The pregnant young woman reminded Lucas of his own sweet mother’s character and faith.
He smiled at her. “When I see you again, I expect there’ll be another member of this family in a cradle.”
“Oh, yes, just a few months away now. Thank you for sending us Seema. She will be a great help when the baby comes. And I am working with her. God has such a great plan for her life, but she does not know it yet.”
“I do hope you are right, Hannah. If anyone can influence that young woman for the good, you can.” Lucas took his leave and hurried back to his mercantile office.
If Seema did see through his disguise and even told Byron Pitt, what of it? There was nothing the man could do. On Friday, the Blue Heron would sail for the open sea—without Pitt or his buddies.
CHAPTER 12
Travay rushed into her room and washed her tear-stained face. Her aunt would soon come, and she needed to collect herself. She took a deep breath. A knock sounded at the door, and the familiar voice called out, “Travay, dear, are you up and dressed? I’ve some news for you.”
“Yes, I’m up and dressed. Do come in, Aunt Merle.”
“You will never guess who just visited. Sir Roger Poole! He said you two are well acquainted.” Her aunt’s brows rose.
Travay sank down on the edge of her bed and hung her head. “Yes, I am acquainted with Roger Poole, unfortunately.”
Merle pulled the dressing table chair close to the bed and sat. “Why unfortunately? The Pooles are known to be a family of means and he’s … asked for your hand in marriage, my dear.”
Travay looked up into her aunt’s face. “No! No! Never!”
Merle drew back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Travay, I think you’d better tell me what this is all about. Why such angst about this man? He might be a good catch for someone.”
Travay clenched her fists and licked her dry lips. “Aunt Merle, I did not tell you about Sir Roger Poole because I never wanted to think about him again. But I see I must tell you what happened in Jamaica.”
“Yes, my dear, do.” Merle leaned forward and reached for her niece’s hand.
Travay told the story of her stepfather’s gambling and Sir Roger Poole’s pursuit. When she described jumping off the cliff on horseback, Merle gasped, drew her fan from her pocket, and fanned furiously.
“And a—a pirate rescued me, a Captain Bloodstone, who eventually brought me safely to Charles Town.” She did not tell her aunt he was also a childhood playmate named Lucas Barrett. She was already exhausted from going over the disturbing story.
Merle stopped fanning, and her face turned pale. She stared, aghast. “A pirate? Are you telling me everything? Were you … hurt, my child?”
“No, no. I was not the only woman aboard, Aunt Merle. In fact, there were two others. As you know, Mama Penn was one of them, and she watched out for me like a hawk.”
“Good. Well, I will do all in my power to help protect you from this scoundrel. But we must be wise as serpents. Did you know he is now a Council Member?”
“Yes, he was sure to brag about that the first thing at the Drakes’ ball.” She looked at her aunt and frowned. “What does that mean, Aunt Merle, the fact that he is a Council Member? Does that give him the right to force me to marry him?”
“No, but we will have to be most careful in how we receive and deal with him. As a Council Member, he does wield a great deal of power. Even though I cannot see right now how he could use that power against us.” Her aunt looked around the room and sniffed.
“Receive him? Deal with him? What do you mean?” A shudder traveled up Travay’s spine.
“It means he is coming here to tea Friday, and you and I will have to receive him.”
“Oh no! Do we have to? Do I have to be present? Can’t you just tell him my decision?”
Her aunt took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “I think you will need to receive him, but I will be by your side. The Lord will help us deal with this man, rascal that he is. Hopefully, it will be the last time you or I have to deal with him. Let’s pray about it right now.”
Travay sighed and knelt beside her aunt, who had dropped down beside the bed. Doubt rose in her mind. God had hardly helped her in the past. Would it be different now?
Thursday evening, Lucas prepared the finishing touches of his Captain Bloodstone identity and other details for the early morning departure of the Blue Heron. He tried to suppress a strong desire to see Travay before he sailed. Failing, he dressed in dark clothing, hid his braids under a hat, and slid a knife into his waist sash.
He slipped through the shadowy deserted streets as silently as a fox to the house where Travay and her aunt lived. He scaled the garden wall and dropped onto the soft ground beyond. Staying crouched for a moment, he listened. A swing squeaked in the middle of the garden. He stood and looked around the bushes. Travay sat in the falling twilight, swaying gently in the wooden seat, her long curls moving in the evening breeze. It was just the picture he needed to take with him. She was safe, happy.
Then he heard the sobs.
Lucas stepped out of the shadows.
Travay gasped and froze.
Lucas removed his hat and came closer. “Is anything wrong, Travay?” He softened his voice, but it still cut the silence like a rapier.
She wiped tears from her face. “Oh, Lucas, he’s found me again. Roger Poole. I never told you, but he was the one I escaped from in Jamaica.”
Lucas spat on the ground. “That pompous devil. He’ll have a difficult time forcing his way in Charles Town.”
She stood.
He longed to take her in his arms, and he had to compel his mind and voice to work. “Surely you have nothing to fear from him here, Travay.” He saw her chin tremble, and he uttered a groan, then drew her to him.
“That’s what my aunt thinks, but—”
He bent and kissed away the tears, then trailed down to her trembling lips. He touched them as if asking permission then claimed her mouth in a desperate, burning kiss. She resisted for a moment, but then her lips parted and yielded in a way he had only dreamed. The kiss deepened, and fireworks exploded in Lucas’ head. He tried to release her, but her knees started to give way. He held her shoulders and looked into her eyes, his breathing ragged.
“I came to say goodbye.”
She reached for the swing rope and cleared her throat. “You mean you are leaving Charles Town?” The tremor in her vo
ice touched him.
He swiped his forehead with his hand, and then clamped his tricorne back over his braids. “Yes, I sail with the morning tide.”
She stiffened. “Where are you going? Back to pirating?” She spat out the last word.
“I have one last quest, Travay. I don’t have time to explain, but trust me, it’s for a good cause.”
“Good cause? Pirating for a good cause? Of course, that’s probably always been your excuse. But how can you justify plundering ships, killing people?” She moved away from him and almost fell into the swing.
He reached out to steady her. “This is war, Travay. Spain persecutes the Protestants with their Inquisition and must be stopped. Every ship we take reduces the gold to finance their sins against humanity.”
The rack, the thumbscrews, the Iron Maiden. And after all that torture, if the victim didn’t recant or reveal the hiding place of other believers—buried alive or burned at the stake. Lucas’ spine turned icy. Had his dear mother suffered those horrors when the Spanish took her captive? His gentle mother with golden hair and green eyes like his own, the one who had prayed with him beside his bed as a child and comforted him from all his fears.
Travay pushed his hand away. “And that same gold lines your pockets, of course. Go ahead with your pirating, Lucas. Why should I care? Do you know how you will end up? I do. They’ll hang you at low tide in Charles Town harbor.”
He looked into her blazing eyes for a long moment, then turned and hurried back the way he had come.
Travay stared after him and touched her burning lips with her finger. No matter what she said, she did care. Dear God, don’t let him be hanged. “Lucas!”
Crickets beginning their nocturnal song drowned out her cry. She rushed through the rows of her aunt’s flowers in the direction he’d gone. Twice she had to stop and release her gown as it caught on thorns. Her search ended at the estate wall. She put both hands against it as if she would push it down.
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