by Georgie Lee
‘Any progress with Lady Shepherd?’ Mr Adams asked, the question like salt in an already festering wound.
‘She declined, but they all do the first time.’ He hated this courting game, but it had to be played. ‘A beautiful lady with lucrative lands and powerful relations in London is everything I need to make a bid for Governor once Reverend Blair has Lord Spotswood recalled.’ Despite Vincent’s outward support of Lord Spotswood, he’d be glad to see the self-important Governor leave. Virginia needed a firmer ruling hand and he was determined it would be his own. He’d rise to the heights of success as his mother had always dreamed.
‘And if Lady Shepherd doesn’t accept you?’
‘I’ll make sure she’s ruined.’ He hurled the snuffer at the metal firescreen where it clanked against the iron and snapped in two.
A noise from the other side of the door drew their attention. Vincent stormed across the room and shoved them open to find Arabella standing on the other side.
‘Yes, Vincent?’ Nothing about his half-sister’s composure changed except the tight clasp of her hands in front of her. She didn’t flee like her mother used to do, or pretend she hadn’t been listening at the keyhole. Instead, she pinned him with a cool disdain he despised.
‘Why aren’t you with our guests or conversing with Lady Shepherd?’
‘Lady Shepherd and her daughter left a few moments ago.’
Vincent balled his hands into fists at his side and settled the anger welling inside him. He couldn’t risk anyone seeing his carefully cultivated façade slip or losing control the way his father used to. ‘Then I want you to call on her tomorrow.’
‘I can’t call on a woman of superior rank. She must call on me first.’
‘Then find a way to arrange it—now see to our guests.’ He flicked his hand at her, grinning when she flinched before she spun on her heel and hurried away. If marrying her off didn’t mean relinquishing control of the pittance of an inheritance she’d received from her mother, the money which he desperately needed in these trying times, he’d bind her to the most depraved man he could find. She deserved to suffer as much as her thieving mother had under his father’s firm control. A wilful wife was no benefit to a man, as Lady Shepherd would soon discover.
* * *
Arabella didn’t return to the party, but raced upstairs. Let Vincent see to his guests. She wouldn’t be ordered about like some servant. Reaching the top, she paused to draw in a deep breath, forcing the shaking spreading through her to stop. He’d given her an order and she must obey. She turned over her hand and traced the snaking scar on her inner arm, the ragged reminder of the single time she’d tried to free herself, and her money, from Vincent’s control.
She yanked the lace of her sleeve back down to cover the ugly thing and stared out the window at the men and women promenading over the lawn. The afternoon sun lengthened the shadows of the trees across the grass as Vincent strode to where Lord Spotswood stood by the well with a number of burgesses.
‘Some day, Vincent, you’ll regret what you did to me.’ She’d make sure of it and then she’d never be under a man’s control again.
Chapter Five
Richard and his crew stood silent at their posts as the Devil’s Rose drifted past the reedy banks of the shallow inlet. It’d taken a week of hard sailing against stiff winds to reach this place and now the air was still. The brackish scent of stagnant seawater, wet earth and rotting leaves filled the air. The smell took Richard back to his first days as a privateer when he and his crew used to hide in the inlets along the Chesapeake waiting for French or Dutch ships to appear. Like a dog on a hare they’d dart out to intercept them, claiming for England the prize. He’d been proud to be a seaman back then, serving the King and looking forward to his future with Cas. But that was before he’d lost everything.
Curse Vincent.
A white bird rose up from the tall marsh grass, its wings catching the light from the full moon hanging low in the sky. Richard frowned as it flew off. He’d prefer the dark of a new moon, and more space to manoeuvre, but he had no choice. Better to intercept the schooner and the Casa de Oro here than risk losing them in open water. The Casa de Oro was one of the fastest pirate ships in the Caribbean and the schooner’s light weight made it quicker than the Devil’s Rose.
At last, around a bend in the inlet, white sails came into view, shimmering in the moonlight like the bird’s wings. The shallow-draft Casa de Oro sat high in the water with the schooner on her port side. What little activity Richard could see on both decks ceased at the appearance of the Devil’s Rose.
‘Hoist the white flag, Mr Rush,’ Richard commanded.
Mr Rush signalled to a man and a white flag rose beneath the black one of the Devil’s Rose. Mr Rush handed Richard a spyglass.
Richard watched the Casa de Oro, waiting for a response. Men scurried across the deck, preparing for a fight. On the quarterdeck, Richard caught the glint of Captain Dehesa’s spyglass. Richard opened and closed his fingers on the warm brass of his and a bead of sweat slipped down his forehead and past his eye. He didn’t wipe it away, not wanting to miss the signal, or the faint spark of cannon fuses being lit on the gun deck.
‘Think it’ll work?’ Mr Rush asked.
‘If not, be ready to heave to and fire.’ Half of Richard’s crew hid below, blunderbusses loaded, cannons at the ready in case things turned bad.
Behind the Casa de Oro, the schooner crew paused in the offloading of crates and sacks on to the pirate ship to watch the Devil’s Rose ghost steadily closer. The Casa de Oro blocked whatever cannons they had, but not the weapons each sailor carried.
At last, a man waving a white flag appeared on the quarterdeck. Richard let out a long breath, then collapsed the spyglass. ‘Bring us alongside the Casa de Oro, but tell the men below to stay ready. A white flag doesn’t mean we’re out of danger.’
Mr Rush relayed the orders to the crew. Richard stood along the port rail as the Devil’s Rose came alongside the Casa de Oro’s starboard side.
Men of every nationality and size, their faces and arms crisscrossed with scars, watched Richard and his men from their stations. Sharp cutlasses and loaded blunderbusses hung from leather belts and stained sashes, ready for use. This was no privateer crew attached to a man who’d been wronged. These were hardened pirates dedicated to a captain who’d brought them riches and who’d earned enough respect to hold his leadership position for many years.
‘Captain Rose asks permission to come aboard,’ Richard called across, adjusting his mask over his eyes.
‘Permission granted,’ an elegant voice with a thick Spanish accent called out from the quarterdeck.
Richard’s men laid the plank between the two ships.
‘Be careful, sir,’ Mr Rush whispered. ‘I don’t trust these dogs.’
‘Neither do I.’ Richard made his way across, dropping down on to the Casa de Oro’s deck, the duelling pistol hanging at his side. The Casa de Oro’s appearance offshore had struck terror in the hearts of citizens in coastal towns across the Caribbean for years. They deserved to be double-crossed and it sickened Richard to ally himself with this scum, but he needed their Captain’s help. This crew would be the death of Richard if he didn’t succeed with Captain Dehesa.
‘Buenas noches, Captain Rose.’ Captain Dehesa approached with a stride regal enough to rival the King of Spain. He wore plain black breeches paired with a dark coat with gold embroidery along the front. The lace of his sleeves and his shirt beneath his chin glowed orange with the lanterns hanging about the ship. A Cavalier hat sat at a rakish angle over his straight, dark hair, emphasising his square jaw. ‘To what do I owe the honour of this visit?’
‘I have business to discuss with you.’ He pinned the burly schooner Captain standing behind Captain Dehesa with a pointed look. The sweat on the man’s wide forehead was evident even in the weak light. ‘
Alone.’
‘Why?’ Captain Dehesa challenged, his dark eyes narrowing at Richard.
‘I have an offer for you, one you’ll find very interesting and profitable.’
Greed replaced Captain Dehesa’s wary look and he motioned for Richard to follow him. ‘Por aqui, Capitán.’
He started for his cabin when the schooner Captain stepped forward, blocking his way.
‘Captain Dehesa, we must be on our way. It isn’t safe to remain anchored here,’ the broad man insisted. Across the deck, his crew resumed unloading their goods into the Casa de Oro’s hold, though a number of men continued to watch. Anyone with an interest in coming closer was blocked by a line of Captain Dehesa’s men positioned along the balustrade.
Captain Dehesa dropped his hand to the handle of the ornately engraved silver and wood flintlock pistol dangling from his hip. ‘This is my ship, Captain Taylor. Don’t think to command me.’
‘Of course, Captain Dehesa.’ Captain Taylor stepped aside to allow Dehesa and Richard to pass, but savage hate flashed in the schooner Captain’s small eyes. Richard followed Captain Dehesa to his cabin, realising when the schooner finally turned on the Casa de Oro, the attack would be vicious and Captain Taylor would enjoy it.
‘Speak quickly, Captain Rose,’ Captain Dehesa urged, closing the door behind them. ‘Captain Taylor is right. It’s dangerous to tarry here. North Carolina might be friendly to pirates, but others sailing these waters are not.’
The Captain’s quarters were smaller than his own on the Devil’s Rose, but still refined. A few fine portraits in heavy, gilded frames graced the richly panelled walls, giving credence to the rumours that Captain Dehesa was no common seaman, but the disgraced son of a Spanish nobleman.
‘I’ve come with a warning. Captain Taylor has instructions from Mr Fitzwilliam to attack you once you’re out to sea. They’ll kill you and reclaim the goods he exchanged for your silver.’
Captain Dehesa crossed his arms over his chest and rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. ‘Why have you come all the way here on such a lovely night to tell me this?’
‘I want you to recognise the kind of man you’re dealing with and to help me ruin him. I need whatever evidence you can provide of Mr Fitzwilliam trading with pirates and I’m willing to pay handsomely for it. He’s murdered a good number of men, all the while robbing and thieving like any blackguard. I want him brought to justice.’
‘How do I know you’re not tired of preying on Virginia Trading Company ships and now wish to attack others, to rule the seas without competition from me?’ He dropped his hand to hang beside his weapon. ‘To give you evidence might be to put my own head in the noose.’
Richard tensed, his fingers achingly close to Cas’s duelling pistol, but he didn’t so much as allow them to twitch. If he was forced to kill Captain Dehesa, the Captain’s men would slaughter him.
‘I respect you too much to see you swing,’ Richard lied. ‘It’s Mr Fitzwilliam I want to see dancing at the end of a rope.’
The sharp distrust in Captain Dehesa’s eyes failed to ease. He wasn’t going to help him, and Richard would be lucky to make it out of this cabin alive. Richard’s small finger twitched near the pistol as the candle in the lantern overhead sputtered in its wax.
Then, a wide smile broke the severity of Captain Dehesa’s face. ‘You risked a great deal coming here, so I think you are telling the truth, but I must find out for myself. If you are right, I’ll help to teach others who want to double-cross me a lesson. If you’re wrong, pray to the Virgin for a quick death.’
Captain Dehesa threw open the cabin door and marched straight to Captain Taylor, making the schooner Captain’s eyes widen in fear. Captain Taylor reached for his pistol, fumbling and dropping it before Captain Dehesa grabbed him by the throat and slammed him hard against the mainmast.
The sailors loading the schooner came to a halt.
‘Captain Rose says you are to dispose of me once we are out to sea. Es verdad?’
Captain Taylor scratched at Dehesa’s tight fingers. ‘He’s lying.’
Captain Dehesa slid Richard a warning glance, then turned back to Captain Taylor. ‘He went to a lot of effort to speak with me. You, not so much. So I ask again, were you hired to betray and kill me?’
‘No,’ the man gasped, but Captain Dehesa’s fingers tightened around his throat before he could say more.
The sailors from the schooner gathered at the balustrade and Richard closed his hand over his pistol handle in anticipation of them stepping in to help their Captain. None tried to break through the line of scoundrels facing them, but there was no saying how much more they’d allow Captain Taylor to endure before they attacked. Richard glanced at Mr Rush who watched from the Devil’s Rose, waiting for Richard’s signal to summon the men from below.
‘I don’t think you are telling the truth, but there is one way to discover it. Perhaps you’ve heard of the garrotte?’ Captain Dehesa snapped his fingers, and one of his men came forward with a rough three-legged stool. He placed it within sight of Captain Taylor while a shirtless man with a long scar across his chest snapped tight a piece of rope between his rough fists. ‘If you tell me the truth, I’ll send you to your ship and you can go home. If not, I’ll send you to rest with los pescados. I ask you one more time. Were you paid to turn against me?’
Captain Taylor’s wide eyes shifted from the stool to the pirate with the rope to Captain Dehesa. Sweat covered his face and seeped through his white shirt. Finally, he nodded. ‘Yes. Mr Adams ordered us to attack you once we were out to sea.’
Captain Dehesa let go of the man’s neck. Captain Taylor crumpled to his knees, gasping for breath.
Captain Dehesa turned to Richard. ‘What evidence can I give you to bring down this pig?’
‘Any letters or papers you’ve received from him.’
He shook his head. ‘Men approached me. There was nothing in writing.’
Richard silently cursed, but kept on course. ‘Then you can provide a sworn testimony about what you’ve seen and when.’
‘This I cannot do. It would mean admitting my guilt and it could be used against me.’
‘I need something.’ He hadn’t come all this way or risked so much for nothing.
‘I’ll have my men search Captain’s Taylor’s ship. There must be something there.’ Captain Dehesa turned to the scarred pirate, about to give the order for the search, when a flash of movement over Captain Dehesa’s shoulder caught Richard’s eye. Captain Taylor was on his feet, pistol raised. Richard shoved Captain Dehesa out of the way as a flash from the gun lit up the ship and the boom sent marsh birds fluttering up from the surrounding reeds. Something slammed against Richard, knocking him to the deck, his shoulder on fire.
Captain Dehesa and a dozen of his men drew their weapons and fired. Captain Taylor dropped like a sandbag, dead.
A frenzy of activity erupted on the schooner as the Virginia Company sailors rushed at the pirates. The crack of gunfire joined the horrified screams of men and the clank of cutlasses. Richard struggled to rise, but a bolt of pain tore through him. He touched his shoulder and warm blood spread from the wound to stain his fingers.
Captain Dehesa knelt beside him. ‘You saved my life, Capitán Rose. I’m in your debt. I’ll help you bring down Señor Fitzwilliam, but now we fight and you must return to your ship and see to your wound.’ He motioned to one of his men to help Richard to his feet. ‘I’ll be near Cape Hatteras, preying on ships from Charleston. Find me there when you’re ready to collect my testimony and I will gladly give it to you.’
‘Gracias,’ Richard muttered, the burning in his shoulder making the deck sway more than the current.
‘De nada.’ Captain Dehesa raced off to join the fight while his men helped Richard to the Devil’s Rose.
Mr Rush and Mr O’Malley hurried across the plank to bring Richard
back on board.
‘Bring us around on the schooner’s port side and roll out the cannons,’ Richard commanded the gunner, pushing free of Mr Rush and staggering to the forecastle.
‘We must see to your wound,’ Mr Rush insisted. The sails snapped behind him and the wheels of the cannons below deck creaked with their heavy loads.
‘Not yet.’ He yanked off his mask and leaned hard against a barrel, working to catch his breath. Through the haze of gunpowder, he noticed the schooner pulling away. If she broke free, she’d be out of the shoals and in the open ocean in minutes. ‘We have to disable the schooner, give us a chance to search her papers. There might be good evidence on board. We can’t allow her to escape.’
Richard pushed away from the wood, ready to call out more orders when everything went black.
* * *
Cassandra sat in the dining room of the Governor’s Palace, the garnet necklace and matching earrings the Chathams had given her during her first month in London sparkling in the candlelight from the chandelier overhead. In front of her, the large rosewood table dominated the white panelled room and supported an elegant collection of silver servers and gold-rimmed plates. Footmen wearing white wigs and Lord Spotswood’s livery moved among the finely attired guests refilling wineglasses and serving a selection of enticing dishes. If it weren’t for the heat, which failed to ease with the setting sun, Cassandra might mistake this for any dining room in London.
Lady Spotswood held court at Cassandra’s end of the table, a necklace of fine diamonds gracing her throat. With her square face and narrow eyes, and a robe à l’Anglaise of grey silk trimmed with white lace along the V of the bodice hugging her slender figure, she appeared every inch the Governor’s wife. At the other end, Mr Fitzwilliam and a few burgesses sat with Lord Spotswood and Mr Preston, the owner of the Chesapeake Trading Company. The men discussed business with Lord Spotswood who listened with interest, his high forehead made higher by his tall wig. With his wide chest and stern, dark eyes, he proved as commanding in the dining room as in the House of Burgesses.
