Jennifer Horseman

by GnomeWonderland

  "Oh, Juliet . . . why I'm, I'm speechless. . . . 'Tis lovely!" She remembered Juliet's eyes then, large with worry over her Michaelmas gift, then relieved upon Clarissa's feigned pleasure. They had never before exchanged presents but she knew why she had been given it. A ridiculous attempt to bridge the gulf between them. "But, Juliet, I have nothing for you."

  "I wasn't expecting a present. I just wanted to give you something special. Tis a small thing, but I do hope you like them."

  Clarissa held the handkerchiefs in her hand. It was strange how she had a thousand expensive and beautiful things: four closets full of dresses, hats, coats, and shoes, boxes of jewelry, vanity cloths of Spanish lace beneath crystal, sculpted trinkets, gold-plated brushes and combs, perfumes from faraway Paris. She had everything a young lady could want and more, and yet for reasons she only now began to understand, she always returned to these two cotton handkerchiefs. Like Juliet's eyes, they said so much.

  She could not stop hating Juliet for it, for Juliet's ability to change the plain cloths into something colorful and exotic and filled with life. Juliet had survived when she had not. Juliet preserved inside herself a soul untouched by Father, a thing he tried to ruin but couldn't. Ah yes, my young cousin, how surprised you would be to know how much I envy your miserable circumstances. ...

  She stared at the cloth until her eyes closed as she tried desperately to shut out the horror, but it was no use. It was not her fault, she knew it was not her fault: since she was two her father had wreathed his unnatural love for her with the very same fear of his wrath that he used on Juliet, a fear choking her every day of her life. It was that fear that had made her cry rape. He would have done it without that damning call, and yet, when she closed her eyes, she heard Edric's terrified appeal to her mercy over and over.

  She had no idea if the ship her agent spotted offshore last night was actually The Raven. "A thirty-ton schooner, sleek and streamlined for speed, top mast black as rumor is said to have it . . ." his message had said. If so, would Black Garrett come today or tonight? What would he do about the garrison? How much force would be brought to bear?

  Practically no one, beyond the servants and a handful of churchgoers, knew of Juliet's existence. They were separated in years by two, they both had the same color hair and the same blue eyes, both were pretty, and if she knew anything of men, no further description would have been made. Of course, Garrett would expect her to deny it, would expect Tomas to deny it too. She had plans to get Stella and Bess out of the house, while the other servants could be made to act and speak as she desired. After leading them to Juliet she would hide—unless anyone knew of it, they could not find the passage that led to the attic. It could work, she knew it could work, but then God knows what might go wrong. . . .

  If only they arrived for her today—

  A commotion sounded outside; a man's cries interrupted her anxious train of thoughts. She ran back to the window, and when she saw Wilson running up from the road she almost dropped to her knees in relief, a relief that drowned her fears with excitement. She was not prepared for the surge of heady emotion it brought, but she pushed it back nonetheless, gathering her wits. In an act of sacrilege, she held the handkerchief for luck and rushed out the door and into the hall.

  She met Missy at the top of the steps. "It's happened! Now Missy, Missy," she grabbed the woman by her arms, stopping just short of shaking her. "Missy, you know what to do?"

  "Yes! Oh yes!" Pale blonde hair shook with her nod, "but I'm so frightened. What if they know? What if they find out?"

  "They won't! They don't know anything unless someone tells them. Remember that! When they come they will not hurt you, I promise. You know what to say?"

  Missy nodded and Clarissa whispered as they turned to the stairs, "Stella and Bess are still here so make sure you get out there before either of them!"

  They rushed down the stairs just as Wilson threw open the doors. "Your father!" the small man cried, gasping for breath, still clutching his heart. "He's been abducted by bandits! Oh dear, oh dear—"

  It required several minutes before Mr. Wilson could relate what happened. The two downstairs maids arrived with Stella, and as everyone gathered around Mr. Wilson, no one caught the look Clarissa passed to Missy, a look followed by Clarissa's feigned swoon.

  "Oh, my lady!" Missy fell upon her at once.

  "Hide her! Quickly, if no one has stopped them yet, they'll be coming for her and they mean to do ... oh, just quickly now, get her in the attic upstairs and hide the door! Here, help me lift her." Mr. Wilson put his arms under the girl, but it required the four of them to lift her up.

  "I'll go get help!" Missy said, leaving before anyone could think to stop her.

  Huffing and puffing, they made it to the stairs. They had to stop for a moment before heading up, and Stella, frantically trying to assimilate the horror descending over their house, asked, panting, "Won't these men be stopped at the docks? 'Ow could they get away with snatchin' up the master, all 'is men'll be there—"

  "We can't take the chance! As God is my judge, I can't repeat the things they plan to do to the young mistress. Hurry now!"

  Stella could not believe the situation was as bad as Wilson made out. Twas too unlikely, too incredible, though goodness, she would not shed a tear for the master's pain. She said a brief thanksgiving for the fortune that saw young Juliet away, safe and sound for the moment in her young man's arms.

  Panicked, Missy's cap flew off in her flight, and her pale gold hair swung around her thin shoulders as she ran as fast as she could. The danger to her mistress sang loud in her mind and few people would have suspected that within her meek countenance was a love for her mistress that bordered on the fanatic reverence of the pious for their God. Juliet was not the only person whose life she'd risk to save her mistress.

  As she reached the foyer leading to the front doors she came to a halt, hearing the great clamor of horses' hooves in the yard. A man's scream quickened the already frantic tempo of her heart, and she heard a man shout, "The next man who moves is dead." She thought the cold numbness rapidly overtaking her must have descended from the heavens; it was a miracle she would talk about the rest of her life. She drew a deep breath and moved her feet forward till she touched the door. She opened it and stepped into the light of day, greeting the scene with wide-open eyes: great horses trampling over the garden, clouds of dust, and wild men.

  Young Gayle seized the chit immediately, putting a knife to her throat to stop her scream, watching as Heart and Pax dismounted and entered the house to search. He looked around for Garrett. Chaos reined as the other men rounded up stable hands, kitchen help, and gardeners, whoever was about. "Where the hell is Garrett?"

  Jordan motioned with his head as he reined his mount to a quick halt. "One guess, Gayle boy!"

  Vicious swearing sounded down by the stables, the only sign Garrett ever gave of being drunk. A succession of shots fired next—two, then two more, and twice again— and Gayle knew then. "He found the bastard's kennels." "Aye," Jordan continued as they waited, the girl still helpless by Gayle's hand. "A miserable lot they were, too, caged for damnation it seemed, flea-bitten and half mad to get out." He studied the terrified girl a moment and shook his head, staring at her with mistrust but not knowing exactly why. Everything was secure, though, they had only to wait for Garrett and find the whore.

  Gayle knew better than anyone Garrett's profound humanity, one that extended to a great love of all creatures, and how very dearly his rage and fury and thirst for revenge cost him. He and his father, Leif, had watched Garrett struggle to overcome it throughout the entire voyage to Bristol. He had struggled so that he might bring justice to this man Stoddard without sinking to the same reprehensible moral level. How Garrett did try! And how great the agony of even watching his struggle, yet alone living it! It was no use. Garrett's dark streak was as strong as his light, and it consumed him now, reducing a great man to a mere vehicle of rage, a great murderous rage, one he p
rayed would be destroyed upon Stoddard's death.

  Gayle tensed with the idea and looked to see his father and Garrett riding up. "My father didn't give him a pistol, did he now?"

  "That's what he was cursing him for. Leif did the business of settin' the beasts free. Don't know what it is about our man, but the longer I'm with him, the more his queer notions begin to make sense to me."

  As it was with everyone, Gayle thought.

  One booted foot after another left their muddy prints on the expensive rose-colored carpet lining the staircase. The last step put Heart in the hallway, face to face with a pretty maid and an older man at the end of the upstairs hall. The maid screamed as the barrels of two pistols backed them against the wall, terror in their faces. His height and appearance, half naked like a savage and just as mean looking, worked as a threat, one that doubled as Pax came from downstairs to join him. Heart motioned to Pax to search the rooms as he asked simply, "Where might the mistress of the house be hiding? And aren't you the man we left in Stoddard's carriage?"

  Stella looked at Mr. Wilson. Small beads of perspiration lined his brow and his mouth formed an unnatural line. He could not speak for his fear. Stella turned to the man, blurting, "She's not here! She left this morning. Wilson here came to warn us you were comin' for 'er but 'twas too late. She left hours ago."

  "And where might she have gone off to?"

  The elocution of those words put the man in a different class, causing Stella a brief moment of confusion, as if the idea that this man had once been a gentleman was somehow relevant to these dire circumstances. "Don't know exactly ... to London! She's gone to the London house!"

  "Oh, indeed! And I am King George's lost cousin. Stod-dard sold his London house. Come now—" He watched as Pax went in one room and out another. "Come on, my pretty wench, it will go better if you tell us — "

  Outside, Garrett and Leif rode up at a gallop, reining to a quick stop. Garrett motioned to the girl. "A maid by the looks of her," Gayle told him, watching as he took a cask Jordan handed him.

  After a long drought, Garrett leaned casually forward in the saddle, appearing disinterested, even bored, by the chaos around him now. "Aye, a lady's maid. Who's your mistress, girl?

  She did not speak at first, a convincing part of her act. "Come now," Gayle whispered, "tell him what he wants and you'll see no harm."

  "Miss Clarissa Stoddard," came in a rush of sound.

  "And where would the precious Miss Clarissa Stoddard be right now?"

  He said her name with a hate that crossed the distance between them, and Missy felt her first shiver of fear. "I won't say!"

  Garrett only smiled at the show of bravado. "What should we do to make her talk?" He did not have to mention many ideas before the poor chit was babbling away in terror. "What?" he interrupted, certain the girl was lying to save her doomed mistress. "You have less than three min- utes to convince me your lady is not in the house. Picnick- ing down by the riverbank there, you say? Hah!"

  "Oh, but she is! She is! She be meetin' a young man therein secret!"

  Garrett needed no more words to convince him. The interesting fact was too specific to be a lie and it fit too perfectly what he knew of Clarissa Stoddard's slutting character. Still, he would take no chance. He snapped the order, just as his men returned empty-handed from searching the house, two terrified servants in tow.

  Heart spoke first. "The house is empty as far as we can tell, but old houses like this have as many places to hide as they have rats in nests. The maid claims the lady is out for the day, but-"

  Garrett raised his hand with a motion to Missy. "Take that girl with us until we find her." He turned his mount toward the river and rode off.

  Missy screamed as Gayle lifted her onto Heart's mount. The first genuine part of her act.

  Moving cautiously through the wood, Juliet finally reached the spot, their spot, the only place on earth that gave her happiness. At the riverbank about a mile from Fair woods tall grass grew where the trees cleared. Billowing willow trees shaded the area and created the illusion of isolation, as if she and Tomas were the only two people left of earth. As she emerged from the woods she saw him sitting there, waiting. Emotion surged through her heart and she cried his name in a whisper as she ran to him, "Tomas!"

  The handsome boy turned to see her, rising as he did so and opening his arms. His arms came around her slender form and she clung to his neck desperately, not minding the stinging pain from her back. Joy sprang in her eyes as she heard him say, "Juliet, Juliet, I've waited all night and morning, worrying you could not get away. Oh my love, I would have waited all week. Here, let me kiss you so I know I'm not dreaming."

  He pulled back a bit, and as they were of nearly the same height, Tbmas but two inches taller, she stared into the gentle eyes until the moment his lips softly met her mouth. Their lips did not part, and while Tomas often dreamt of parting her lips, he never dared, while Juliet had not the experience to know that a kiss might be different. Still, the kiss was a physical manifestation of her love and it filled her with warmth and happiness and joy.

  He pulled back a bit to shower her face with tender kisses and then just to stare at how lovely she was. Lord, she was lovely, but, "Juliet, what happened to you? Is that. . . why, yes it is, a bruise covered with powder?"

  A more sensitive man might have seen the anxiety and fear in the large blue eyes as she searched his face. She hid it quickly though, wanting a few moments peace just to look at him, as if she, too, need the reassurance he was not a dream. He looked unchanged, exactly as she had first seen him on the way to church some four years ago. He was so handsome to her, exactly like the famous painting of the boy in blue. He had a head of blonde curls and skin, she often teased him, as smooth as hers. His mouth was thin and perfectly formed, his nose small, so handsomely curved. While not large, his eyes were pale grey, the paleness revealing the profound gentleness of his soul. His thin brows were set together with concern, and yet she thought to stall before telling him.

  She eased the worried lines of his brow and forced a smile. " Tis but a mishap. 1*11 speak of it later. First tell me of the university. Are you doing well?"

  "Yes. I pulled myself up from the bottom rung of the class, not very far but far enough to please Father. He didn't say anything, but that's how I knew. All thanks to the treatise you wrote for me. I told you how the headmaster set it in the library and made an example of it?" Tbmas laughed, brushing her nose with his fingertip, "I confessed to David and Perkins that you wrote it for me but I don't think they believed me. Perkins said, 'A young woman wrote on Descartes' philosophy? A paper that won a place in the library? Why I don't believe I do believe that!'"

  She laughed at his imitation of Perkins's stuffy voice, feeling a burst of happy pride that the paper was well received. "Well, what else? Has it been easier for you?"

  "No, not really," he sighed. "I try so hard but all the Latin and Greek, all the ideas and facts, make only a great jumble in my mind. I'm not cut out for the life of a scholar, I'm afraid, but Juliet, Juliet, I haven't told you yet, but—" He stopped, afraid to tell her and yet knowing he must.

  Apprehension flashed across her face. "What, Tomas?"

  "Well, Father is still resisting the idea of me going into his bank."

  Juliet's eyes danced over his face. "But you said ... oh, Tomas, you promised he'd take you at the end of this term."

  Tomas hated himself for not owning the courage to tell her before, and he hesitated before finally confessing: "No, I had thought he would, but—" He saw the quick change in her expression. "No, don't look so alarmed. Mother says she will try to help me talk him into it. Juliet, Juliet, my love, 'twill only be a short setback until I really finish, a year, maybe—"

  "I can't wait another year!"

  The words were out before she knew it and she took a step back as her small hand flew to her mouth to stop her panic. He knew then, and the pain of it filled his eyes as he slowly shook his head. "No, don't tell
me .... Oh, Juliet, did he-"

  She nodded and held perfectly still as Tomas's thin fingers came to her cloak to remove the clasp. The worn coat dropped to the earth. He stepped to her backside, and as he stared his eyes filled with tears. Just above the edge of her dress a thin red line appeared. The silence filled with the sound of the rushing stream nearby, the wind rustling through the branches of the willow trees, her own small breaths, and the next thing she knew, she was in his arms as he lowered her to the ground on top of himself.

  She saw the tears in his eyes, for he would cry when she could not. "Tbmas, Tbmas," she whispered, "please take me from here. I'm so ... frightened all the time. I know your father is a hard man, but, but couldn't we explain it to him? Oh, wouldn't he understand that you love me, the necessity of it when my guardian treats me so brutally?"

  He closed his eyes, loving her so much. A tear fell on his lashes and she reached a gentle finger to wipe it. "My dear, sweet Juliet. I can't, you know I can't. . . . I'm forbidden to bring the subject up until I'm through at the university-"

  "Oh, Tomas, then marry me without his permission!"

  "We would lose my inheritance! How would we live? We would be poor. ... I love you ... I love you," he held her slender frame tightly in his arms, forgetting the pain this would cause. He did love her, but he could not think of how to save her. She would not want him to risk his father's wrath and lose his inheritance! How would they live? A young girl just couldn't understand these matters, but then, on the other hand, to think of her being hurt and afraid —

  "I can't bear it," he whispered. "I can't!"

  "Oh save me, Ibmas! Love me, now and forever. Please." She tenderly touched her mouth to his lips, and so heated was he by those words, the feel of her softness on his form, that Tomas thought he would find the courage to part her lips, until—

  Until Garrett could stomach no more of her tender pretenses and they heard the rich timbre of a voice saying: "Save me? Love me, please? My God, I have met all manner of whores in my life but I believe the lady here takes the prize, begging men to spread her thighs only to cry rape for the pleasure."