Buccaneers Series

by Linda Lee Chaikin

  “Felix? Why would he promise such a thing?”

  “He hired Sir Erik to discover the plans of the viscount and report them back to Lord Felix.”

  “How is it you knew all this and didn’t tell me?”

  Minette looked as if she were about to defend herself but instead unexpectedly lapsed into silence by biting into the shortbread. Under Emerald’s gaze, she looked away.

  Suspicious now, Emerald grew more uneasy. “Who told you Captain Farrow expected to marry Lavender?”

  “I learned it aboard Sir Erik’s ship. Before we rendezvoused at Monkey Bay. I was aboard when Captain Buckington arrived with Rafael. They had a big meeting that night about the treasure of the Prince Philip. And they signed articles together to share in the booty. When I was leaving Captain Farrow’s ship, his slave told me there was only one woman who had ever turned the head of his captain and that was Lavender. In the longboat he told me about the letter she sent to Captain Buckington through Sir Erik.”

  “You mean the letter telling him that she had married Lord Grayford?”

  Minette nodded. “Lavender was mean and hateful to Captain Buckington. She accused him of running off with you. She’d married his cousin, so she said, to get even. Captain Buckington crumpled up the letter and threw it away. The slave found it.”

  Emerald stiffened. It was as Lavender had said. And then he decided to marry me at my father’s insistence.

  Minette stood, frowning. “I’m sorry, Emerald. I didn’t mean to forget to tell you. Even Uncle Karlton didn’t know, but maybe he’s found out now.”

  Emerald didn’t think it would make much difference to her father. It was marriage to the viscount he wanted, regardless of the means. She inspected the open doorway, hoping her expression did not betray her. It was true that her father had taken advantage of him, but why hadn’t Baret told her about Lavender’s marriage?

  She recalled their last moments together on Tortuga at the Sweet Turtle.

  “Have you forgotten your vow to Lavender?” she had asked and had seen his jaw tighten. At that response, she should have been more cautious.

  “I have not forgotten,” he had stated. “We’ll not discuss that now.”

  Emerald’s eyes flickered. She rose from her seat on the step and set her empty cup on the desk. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to discuss Lavender. He didn’t want me to know he was agreeing to marry me because he thought she was now Lady Grayford. How easily he dismissed me, she thought. “‘We won’t discuss that now. You’ll be sent to England as I agreed upon with your father. I have a war to fight. A few years growing up will benefit you.’”

  Emerald envisioned Baret’s surprised pleasure when he should learn that Lavender hadn’t gone through with the wedding after all. What would he do when he realized she was available again? Would he come rushing back and risk arrest?

  Lavender was the one woman who could get by with rashly breaking her engagement to Baret in order to marry Lord Grayford, then admit her mistake and ask for Baret’s forgiveness! Naturally, he’d wish to pursue her again. He might feel obligated to Emerald for a time, she decided, but departing for England would soon change that.

  He’ll wonder how he might gently inform me he’s changed his mind. Well, if Baret Buckington thinks I’ll insist he go through with the marriage, he’s wrong. Does he think because my mother was the daughter of a pirate that I have no self-respect? I don’t want a man who wants another woman. And I won’t let my father force me into such a marriage either.

  Thunder rumbled, and the wind from the Caribbean struck the outside wall. The pilings moaned beneath the floorboards, and Emerald listened to the unpleasant sucking sound of water. Light weaved as she carried a half-burned candlestick on a saucer to the topmost room her father amusingly called the crow’s nest.

  The evening was warm and humid, and she had piled her waist-length hair onto her head to keep the heavy, dark strands from sticking to the back of her neck. She stood looking about. At the wing chair her father had loved to lose himself in, the too-fine, tall secretary reaching toward the ceiling—how had he ever managed to get it up the steps?—the sea trunk stuffed with old clothing and papers from past voyages. Everything appeared just as she had left it two months ago, but her beloved father was not here, her father with the smell of the sea about him and the strong, warm arms that comforted her in her aloneness.

  Emerald felt the familiar cramp in her throat. Please, Lord, don’t let the authorities try my father for piracy. He’s all I have, all Minette has. If You take his protection away from us, what will we do? What will become of us? Don’t leave us orphans.

  “Emerald?”

  The voice calling up the steps was Minette’s, and Emerald ducked through the small door and stepped out into the tiny alcove to peer over the handrail.

  Minette looked up. “Zeddie’s come—from going to see Miss Geneva.”

  Hope leaped into life. “I’ll be down!”

  Then Geneva was at the town house that Lord Felix had built for her. Would Geneva help her in this desperate hour?

  When she came down the steps, Zeddie was removing his wet jacket retained from the days he had fought Cromwell. It was faded and patched, yet retained its past dignity. He looked to be in an ill mood.

  “Did you leave my letter with the maid?” she asked with breathless expectation.

  He snorted. “Sink me! The gal was as sour as lukewarm vinegar. Took one look at me and wouldn’t give me a second more to explain things.” Impatiently he hung his wet periwig on the peg to dry beside his pistol belt. “Sent me off the porch steps like I was peddling turpentine for his lordship’s table!”

  Emerald restrained her disappointment. “Did you tell her that the letter was from me—Geneva’s niece?”

  “Sure now, I tried to hand her the letter, but she was quick to slam the door.”

  Minette sank onto the hardback chair. “Now what?”

  Emerald seized her cloak. “We’ll try again. If Geneva is in the house, then I’ll go there myself. I’ll get in to see her somehow. She must be told about my father.”

  “You’re going there tonight? It’s pouring outside. What if she won’t see you?”

  “I must. If there’s anyone who may be able to do something, it’s Geneva. Zeddie, you’ll need to bring me in the buggy again. Minette, stay here. There’s nothing you can do.”

  “There’s no lock on the door anymore. Any rogue could come creepin’ about.”

  Emerald told herself she’d think about the lock tomorrow. Right now, Geneva and her father’s dilemma filled her mind.

  “I’ll stay, but you’re going to get drowned in that cloud-burst.”

  Most of the town houses on Queen Street belonged to the largest sugar and cacao magnates. They served Governor Modyford either as royal officers in the militia or on a council seat. It didn’t surprise Emerald that Felix would spend as much time here as he did on Foxemoore. His work with the governor and the High Admiralty would normally keep him busy going between Spanish Town, where the inland seat of government was located, and Port Royal, near the opulent Merchant’s Exchange.

  Emerald had always enjoyed viewing the Exchange from the buggy when coming into town to attend Sunday worship. The building was perhaps the finest in Port Royal. It had a stone gallery adjoining the parish church, which was graced by Doric pillars and a twisted balustrade. There, elegantly shaded from the blazing sun, well-to-do merchants made rich by the merchandise of the buccaneers met to drink rum punch and transact their affairs.

  With space a rare commodity, Emerald saw few houses having large front yards or English-style gardens. The streets were all narrow, and even Queen Street, paved with ships’ ballast, was no less so. What gardens there were consisted of a few flowering vines and palm trees. Giant red, yellow, and orange five-petaled vine flowers made up for quantity and variety. And even here in town, tiny harmless fruit bats flew about looking for insects.

  The Jamaican planters often built their
town houses more elaborately than they did the great houses on their inland plantations. Because they could not build wide, they built tall. As Zeddie stopped the buggy by Felix’s Spanish-style iron gate, Emerald looked upon a four-story brick house with red tile roof and glazed sashed windows. There seemed to be a number of rooms on each floor, and a cellar. There was also a fine cook room set off by itself in the back. She was certain that the house would be sumptuously furnished. It looked to be one of the finest on Queen Street.

  It was still pouring rain, and she was drenched running for cover beneath the porch roof. She knocked loudly while Zeddie found refuge in a swing chair beneath the canopy. When no one answered her knocking, she feared the inhabitants had all retired, but Zeddie pointed out a lantern’s glow in an upper window. Bracing herself against the wind, Emerald continued her pounding until she heard a key turn in the lock and the bolt slide back.

  A moment later, a young African serving girl, holding a softly glowing lantern and looking as though she were prepared to parrot the refusal that Zeddie had experienced earlier, peered out at her.

  But before she could be refused, Emerald, desperate, pushed past her.

  “What’s you doin’, you high-flung—”

  “I’m sorry, but it’s very important. Please, I must see my father’s cousin, Lady Geneva Harwick Buckington.”

  The girl dubiously eyed her. “Cousin?”

  A voice interrupted from the hall shadows near a flight of narrow stairs. “Emerald, is that you?”

  That voice!

  Emerald turned hopefully as an older woman came forward into the lantern light. Emerald stared into a dignified face with tawny skin drawn taut over well-formed cheekbones. Deep-set brown eyes beneath straight black brows stared back at her. Her blue turban was neatly tied, and several parrot feathers were artfully arranged with colorful beads.

  “Zunsia,” Emerald said with relief.

  She knew that this woman of Carib and French blood had served Geneva loyally for years as personal maid. She had traveled with her to France and England to bring Jette to Jamaica. She had later served in the nursery, looking after Jette. Did this mean the child was here?

  A sudden smile drew the woman’s lips back from even white teeth. “Miss Emerald, why—was that Zeddie who came earlier? Yasmin turned him away. Gracious, come in. You’re soaked. Yasmin, take Miss Emerald’s cloak and parasol an’ bring a towel an’ hot punch too. Then bring Zeddie to the back an’ take care of him.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The girl hastened and took Emerald’s wet things, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry, miss. I didn’t know who you was.”

  Zunsia brought her into a room off the small hall and went about lighting candles. “I heard you was back, but I didn’t expect you to come.”

  “Nor did I expect to. I must speak with Geneva tonight. You’ll tell her I’m here? Tell her it’s about my father.”

  Zunsia’s dark eyes appeared to assess the situation with keen understanding. “I’ll tell her. I’ll go straight up. She’s awake an’ reading. You sit an’ unload your heart a minute. Yasmin will come with that punch an’ a towel to dry you with. I wish I had a suitable change of clothing for you.”

  Emerald smiled her relief to be among friends. “I’ll be all right.”

  She took brief solace in the comfortable room. When the girl came and poured a cup of sweet citrus tea, she removed her sopping slippers and used the soft towel to dry with. She smoothed her windblown dark curls back into the hair net at the nape of her neck and dried herself as best she could for her audience with Geneva.

  Then she absently drank the tea and looked around her with cautious interest. The receiving room appeared to be the lived-in section of a grand chamber, divided by two amber brocaded drapes of heavy fabric edged with silver thread. It was an imposing and lordly house, just as she imagined its master to be, and she felt her heart begin to beat faster.

  The walls were paneled mahogany, adorned with tapestries of forest scenes. Heavy furniture was placed in a semicircle, and various tables and stools were intricately carved with hunting hounds and foxes inlaid with silver. Thick cushions were upholstered with black velvet, and the floor was covered with equally plush rugs.

  When Zunsia returned, her expression revealed that the matter had not gone well. “You might as well know, child. Miss Geneva’s ill. She took sick at Foxemoore a month ago.”

  “It’s serious?” said Emerald uneasily, thinking of Felix’s first wife.

  “I wish we knew. She has these terrible spells of weakness where she can hardly get herself about. Doctor doesn’t know its cause, an’ his lordship were going to take her to see a specialist in London, then the war stopped their plans to travel. It’s the reason that brought us here to the town house. We was leaving with little Jette, an’ Miss Lavender too was coming, just as soon as she married Lord Grayford. That too was put in waiting.”

  Emerald said quickly, hoping her alarm didn’t show to Zunsia, “Is Lavender here?”

  “She’s upstairs with Miss Geneva, keeping her company.”

  “Then—Geneva won’t see me?”

  “I didn’t get opportunity to speak to her. Miss Lavender said she were sleeping.”

  Naturally Lavender would not wish Geneva to see Emerald.

  “I told Miss Lavender it was important about Sir Karlton, but she say it must wait. Geneva’s health came first.”

  Emerald turned away and caught a glimpse of Yasmin eying her curiously.

  “You go now,” Zunsia told the girl with a look of rebuke.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Did you see to Zeddie’s comfort? It’s pouring out.”

  “I’ll do it now.”

  “No, don’t bother,” said Emerald wearily, turning toward them. “I won’t stay if I’m not allowed to see Geneva. I must get back to Minette.”

  Yasmin bustled out with the tray, and Zunsia showed her concern. “I’m sorry, child. It’s that Miss Lavender.” Her low voice had taken on veiled dislike. “She has her way with everyone in the family, including Miss Geneva. Lavender can do no wrong, an’ it’s worse now than it used to be.”

  Emerald swallowed her disappointment. She entertained a sudden impulse to climb the steps and force her way past Lavender, but she didn’t wish to upset Geneva if she was ill.

  Zunsia was quick to see her dilemma. “I’ll bring Miss Geneva’s breakfast while Miss Lavender’s asleep. I’ll tell her that you came to see her. Do you have a place for the night?”

  She told Zunsia about the lookout house, and Zunsia shook her head. “An unsafe place to be alone with Sir Karlton in the gaol.”

  “Then you’ve heard about my father?” she asked uncertainly.

  “Everyone’s heard.”

  Emerald didn’t see any critical expression and wondered if Zunsia had also heard about her running away to meet Jamie. She decided that she would have heard that gossip also.

  “There’s smuggling in the area of the lookout house. I heard his lordship talking about it to Sir Jasper. Maybe I can find a place for you with Yasmin if you wouldn’t mind—”

  “Smuggling?” Emerald came alert, thinking of when Zeddie had told her about Lord Felix and Sir Jasper. “What did you hear them say?”

  “Not much. They stopped talking when they saw me. It was something about a Dutch ship.”

  The door opened, and Emerald turned.

  Geneva herself stood there, looking pale but otherwise well in an ivory dressing gown. Her red hair was smoothly drawn into a chignon, and her silvery eyes, much like her cousin Karlton’s, revealed her surprise over Emerald’s presence. She took in her wet clothing and what must have been, thought Emerald, the unmistakable alarm on her face.

  Geneva said, “Leave us now, Zunsia.”

  Before Emerald could rally, Geneva walked into the room.

  “Lavender thought I was asleep. I’m taken aback to see you here, Emerald. After your shameful behavior, I’m surprised you’d have the gall to come to m
e.”

  Emerald searched her face for some hopeful sign. “I had no one else,” she admitted quietly.

  Geneva wavered. “I suppose you think I shall shield you from the scandal you’ve created, but there’s little I can do now. I admit that after the slave uprising I was impressed with your maturity. I had even entertained thoughts of speaking to Sophie about you and seeing well to your future.” She walked to a large velvet chair and sank into it. “Needless to say, I was shocked and disappointed when I’d learned you’d run away with an indentured servant. A common thief,” she added. “I’ve since learned he was the brother of the pirate they hanged a few months ago.”

  Emerald could not deny her folly about Jamie. Geneva’s words hit hard, but she wondered why Geneva was bringing that up now when it was her father she’d come about. Surely Geneva had heard?

  “I made a grave error, and I’ve paid.”

  “Indeed? Hardly. Not yet. You will bear your reputation until you’re an old woman. And then the young girls will speak of the sprightly old lady who once ran away with a pirate.”

  Emerald’s lips tightened against the pain that pricked her heart. “Then I hope God gives me the grace to not hear them. My reputation, madam, was ruined long before I left Port Royal with the hopes of marrying James Bradford.”

  “You hoped to marry him? An indentured servant! A pirate?”

  “I did not know he was a pirate, madam. Nor did I know his real name was Maynerd.”

  “Yet you knew he was an indentured servant.”

  “Who else was I to marry? Did I have opportunity for anything more?”

  Geneva waved a hand and sighed, then rested her brow against her hand as though her head ached. “I’m quite aware what your situation was. I had hoped to do something to better things, when you brought ruin to yourself by running away. I don’t see what I can do now. You did know the man was wanted for involvement in the slave uprising.”

  “He was innocent of that. I vow he was.”

  “It’s too late to consider whether he was or not. I suppose he’s escaped? I gather you’ve come to me now to tell me how wrong you were and you wish me to send you home to Foxemoore until Karlton arrives.”