01 - Captured Dreams

by May McGoldrick

  Pierce considered her carefully. She wasn’t as vain or as brazen as the dozen or so very willing women who had been haunting him around Boston since his arrival. She wasn’t pretentious or childish like the other couple dozen who were in search of a husband. She wasn’t notably beautiful or fashionable in dress. She definitely did not seem to have much interest in belonging to the Boston version of the London beau monde that Emma had lived for.

  Portia certainly did not fit into the same mold of the women Pierce had been involved with before. But somehow she warmed his blood. He wanted to touch her, taste her, have her, and his physical reaction to her was baffling as hell.

  “What little I have seen of your actions goes against any logic. But despite of it, I find I am attract you,” he finally answered. “So at the risk of being indecisive, as you charge, I must answer honestly that I do not know what to make of you…yet.”

  She neither pouted or looked disappointed, and Pierce gave her credit. She didn’t appear to gauge her worthiness on his opinion or anybody else’s. Shrugging indifferently, Portia turned her attention to the various streets that led to the wharves on the right.

  “Are you keen to educate me about another unique section of Boston that I might not have seen?”

  “No, I like to savor those opportunities for the darkest hours of the night, when you are helpless and I can take full advantage of you.”

  “I shall never put myself in a situation like last night again.” She shifted uneasily in her seat.

  He made a mental note that she said “last night” and not “this morning,” when he had his hands all over her and could not get enough of her. It was good to know what she feared and what she did not fear.

  “I am taking you back to the North End. Though there is no saying that one of the Admiral’s servants will not recognize you as the house breaker who escaped them last night.”

  “You are determined to think me a criminal. But if I am as horrible as you say, why should I go back and risk being discovered?”

  “Perhaps you didn’t find what you were looking for the first time.”

  “Oh, but I did find her,” she whispered under her breath.

  Pierce gave her a curious look. “Another woman is the cause of all of this?”

  For the first time since he had met her, she was speechless. She turned her head away, and the passing scenery became the focus of her attention.

  “Who is this woman?”

  “I…I should not have said so much. Please disregard it.”

  The possibilities running through his mind were too wild to deserve consideration. He reined the chaise to a stop on a small rise. The mill creek ran along the bottom of the hill to their right. He turned to her. “We are going no further, Miss Edwards, until you tell me what this is all about.”

  “Then I believe I shall get out.”

  He took hold of her arm and stopped her. “Why not simply be honest with me?”

  She was slow to look at him. “Mary…Mrs. Higgins told me last night, after your groom delivered me to the parsonage, that I should tell you the truth and seek your assistance. That is what I intended to do this morning. Somehow, I managed to botch that completely and lose her trust at the same time.”

  This time he didn’t interrupt and watched her struggle to explain.

  “I was running from the mansion last evening” she explained hesitantly, “because I had tried to meet the Admiral’s daughter and inadvertently frightened her out of her wits. I am going back today to attempt the same thing…to meet her, I mean, not to frighten her. I am hoping to have more success in the daylight.”

  There were onlytwo things that Pierce knew about Middleton’s daughter. She was mad, and she had been held in seclusion for some time.

  “Why are you so set on meeting her?”

  “Because I suspect she is my mother,” Portia whispered.

  “That would make you Middleton’s granddaughter.”

  “A relation that he would never admit to.” She went on with her explanation. “I was born out of wedlock and under extraordinarily difficult circumstances, I believe. My wish is for him never to know about me. I truly believe if he discovered what I intend to do, he would send me to the end of the earth to hush the scandal.”

  Pierce listened intently as she told him what she knew of her parentage. She told him about Lady Primrose and about her employment with the Higgins family for the past eight years.

  “My relationship with Helena Middleton is all speculation, of course, but I shall never know the truth for certain unless I get a chance to speak to her in person. That is why I accepted Captain Turner’s invitation and attended the ball last night. That is also why I came to your office this morning. I hoped to secure your assistance in getting back inside the Admiral’s mansion again.”

  Pierce thought of where this was going, and he didn’t like it. This was the kind of attention he could least afford. To have someone of Middleton’s position become an enemy for some such trivial matter could be disastrous.

  “Parson Higgins’ wife thought I could help you?”

  Portia nodded emphatically. “She thought your connections could open any door. And she was right. The invitation for today was more than I could have hoped for. This gives me a way to get back to the mansion immediately.”

  “So there are no articles of clothing left behind from the ball?”

  “Of course there are. I do have a reason to go back. Please, Mr. Pennington,” she said softly, laying her hand on his. “What I hope to do shall harm no one. I have no intention of making any claims on anyone. I shall make no scene. I shall upset no one. I am only after the simple truth of my parentage. Would you…could you find it in your heart to assist me?”

  Pierce looked down at the mill creek. The masts of ships were visible in the harbor to the east. Not much farther along was the bridge that led to the North End and the Copp’s Hill mansion of Admiral Middleton.

  “Definitely not, Miss Edwards.”

  CHAPTER 8

  The Admiral’s marines at the gate were the only guards. There was no battalion of grooms or servants waiting at the mansion to apprehend her. A stable boy had been leading Nathaniel’s fine hunter toward the stables as they arrived. Apparently, they were the only guests of the Admiral. It was the perfect opportunity for Portia to pursue her plans, if it weren’t for the beast in gentleman’s clothing sitting stubbornly beside her.

  “This is truly ridiculous, Mr. Pennington. Admiral Middleton must think you are insane to be sitting here in your carriage.” She kept her voice calm and reasonable. “I told you that I shall abide by your decision. I shall wait here until Jack returns with my wrap and then allow him to take me home.”

  There was no response. It was the same reaction he’d given to her pleas of reconsidering his decision as they had driven to the mansion. The only thing Portia had been able to get him to budge on was to at least fetch the borrowed wrap.

  The Scot sat there, wearing an annoyed frown and staring at the door where his groom had disappeared a few minutes ago.

  “Never mind ridiculous,” she pressed, glancing at his clenched jaw. “What you are doing could be construed as rude by your host. It could be damaging to your relationship with a representative of the Crown. Your friend is probably waiting inside, too, worried sick about you. Indeed, perhaps Mr. Muir does not know that you have arrived but are refusing to go in. You should learn to trust people, Mr. Pennington. I do not understand why you think I would do anything to cause you strife.”

  Pennington’s scowl was so fierce that Portia shifted uneasily in the seat. His grip on her wrist felt like a steel band, though, and she knew she would never break free.

  “Here is Jack,” he said abruptly, gesturing with his head.

  Looking toward the house, she was disappointed to see Bella’s wrap draped over the groom’s arm.

  “Now I only ask you that you show your gratitude by causing no trouble for my servant.”

  What
other option did she have?

  “Of course, sir,” she said amiably, relieved when the he released her and climbed from the carriage. As Jack took his place beside her, Portia thanked the groom for fetching the garment and proceeded to fold the wrap carefully and place between them.

  There were no parting words from Pierce for her, but plenty of instructions for Jack regarding what route to take and where specifically she was to be delivered.

  She sent a cheery wave at the man, but he only shook his head darkly in response. And as the carriage pulled away, she looked over her shoulder and saw Pennington rooted to the spot, watching them go down the long drive.

  As they went out of sight around a hedge and a grove of trees, Portia turned and stared at the small bridge where she’d lost the race last night. The gates of the mansion grounds were still a good way off.

  She still had a chance.

  *****

  “The activities of the colonists here in Boston and in the immediate vicinity have gone far beyond the limits of lawful protest, Mr. Pennington. The militias at Quincy, Milton, Lexington, Concord, Salem, Cambridge, and a dozen nearby villages are drilling on the greens, and there is open talk of armed conflict with His Majesty’s Army.”

  Pierce pushed the tea away from him and looked teadily into Middleton’s weathered face as the Admiral continued to talk of the threat and the consequences of Boston’s rebelliousness. Everything they had been told so far, Pierce knew. In fact, his personal knowledge about the various activities was more specific and comprehensive than the generalities that Middleton was sharing with them.

  The room was warm, and the tall windows stood open. A scented breeze wafted in from the rose gardens, and the view of the lush grounds beyond distracted him momentarily. Pierce glanced at Nathaniel, who was looking bored and studying the pattern on the china cup in his hand. Captain Turner sat to the right of the admiral with his back to the windows, silent thus far. Like an obedient dog, the officer nodded his head whenever his superior spared him a glance.

  “We know a great deal about the two South End Caucus and its North End counterpart. We know about their leaders. They are deluded to think that because they stir up trouble, Governor Hutchinson will simply order the forces at his disposal to stop enforcing Parliament’s laws and directives. They think by not buying tea or other British goods, by marching on the greens of a few farm villages, they will force us to bow to their wishes. Well, His Majesty’s forces will never turn their backs on the loyal subjects here in Boston. We have sworn to protect the Crown and the British people, and indeed we shall, sir.”

  Pierce folded his arms over his chest. “Why not just round them up these leaders, Admiral, and put an end to it?”

  “We shall do just that when the time is right, for we know who they are,” Admiral Middleton cleared his voice. “That rogue Samuel Adams and his brother, James Otis, Warren, Quincy, and the rest of the seditious Long Room Club. These rogues continue to stir up the rabble. And I swear I’ll hang a dog named Ebenezer Mackintosh before I’m through.”

  “Ebenezer, did you say?” Nathaniel chirped up, suddenly looking interested.

  “You know him?” Captain Turner said, speaking for the first time and looking at Pierce’s partner carefully.

  “Indeed I do. The fellow made these boots for me,” Nathaniel said, pushing back from the table and lifting a leg to display the riding boot. “A damn good shoemaker, that one. Makes all my shoes. I care not a rush about those other fellows, Admiral, but do wish you wouldn’t hang the good craftsmen.”

  “We have more important issues at hand than your boots, Mr. Muir,” the Admiral growled. “And when we have the evidence we need, your bloody cobbler will pay for his treasonous behavior.”

  “I know nothing about any treason, sir,” Nathaniel said. “Those issues interest me very little…except where my business is concerned, of course. But I must tell you ‘tis damned difficult finding good shoes in Boston.”

  “Mr. Muir—”

  “As you can see, Admiral,” Pierce broke in, “my partner has little interest in politics. But as merchants with shipping interests here in Boston, we both appreciate your efforts to keep the peace. But let us come to the point. Why have you asked us here?”

  The Admiral sat forward, placing one fist on the table. “Because of this insidious MacHeath fellow.”

  “MacHeath?” Nathaniel said. “He is a character in a play, sir.”

  “Indeed, Mr. Muir. But he’s also a flesh and blood villain here in Boston. He’s a bloody mercenary…and a traitor to the Crown.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Someone who is using the name MacHeath as an alias is supplying the militias—through the so-called Sons of Liberty—with arms and ammunition. He is smuggling arms to…”

  Pierce couldn’t believe his eyes. She was in the damned gardens, running through the alleys of roses. He casually rose to his feet as his groom Jack strode into the garden, chasing after her and looking as angry as a wet cat.

  “Do you have something to say, Mr. Pennington?” Captain Turner asked.

  Pierce ignored Turner and met the curious stare of Middleton. “My apologies, sir. An old riding injury. I find I cannot sit in one place for too long. Do you mind?”

  “Of course not, sir.”

  “Pray, continue,” Pierce said. He walked to the marble fireplace and leaned against it. From this angle, he had a perfect view of the ridiculous chase going on outside. Jack had no chance. She was hiding behind a rose arbor, and the groom went right by her.

  “Do you know this for a fact…all this information about MacHeath?” Nathaniel chimed in. “‘Tis possible that all this MacHeath business is nothing more than a fairy tale made up by these Bostonians as a diversion.”

  “Nay, sir,” the Admiral retorted. “We are dealing with facts. MacHeath has been smuggling arms in for months. We believe the weapons are being brought in from France by way of the Dutch island of St. Eustatius in the Caribbean. They are being distributed to militias all over the countryside.”

  Pierce saw his groom go off in the wrong direction and out of sight. Portia moved out of her hiding place and ran quickly toward the house.

  “But what has this to do with us, Admiral?” Nathaniel asked.

  “I have been given the task of finding this MacHeath and stopping the flow of arms to…to those who would rebel against legal authority here in Boston.”

  Pierce caught his friend’s stare and reluctantly joined the conversation. “And you want our help?”

  “Indeed I do, Mr. Pennington. The impressive military service of your brother speaks of your family’s dedication to the Crown. At the same time, your business connections give you a critical edge which we lack.” Admiral’s tone turned low and confidential. “I had been planning on seeking your assistance for some time now, but Governor Hutchinson’s views were to wait until the final decision had been made regarding your brother.”

  “My brother?”

  “Aye. Captain Pennington.”

  Pierce had corresponded with his younger brother David this past year no more than he had with Lyon. Still, he was not about to admit to these two strangers that he had no idea on what continent his young brother was located at present.

  “Captain Pennington’s regiment has been transferred from Ireland. He is scheduled to arrive in Boston shortly. With the two of you—and Mr. Muir of course—collaborating on these sensitive matters, I know we shall soon get to thi MacHeath.”

  Pierce did not want to think of the complications that David’s arrival would cause right now.

  “I see no need to wait for my brother’s arrival, Admiral. What exactly can we do right now?”

  “Excellent.” Middleton’s satisfaction was evident in his tone. “We need to know what you know. We believe the rogue is bringing the arms directly into Boston itself, for we are watching every ship and rowboat from Plymouth to Salem. We need to know how this MacHeath is smuggling these arms in, and how he is d
elivering them to the countryside. Our guards at the peninsula neck are checking every cart and wagon that leaves Boston. You are men of commerce. You are both involved with the merchants and the tides men of the town.”

  “So your concern is solely this MacHeath phantom,” Nathaniel asked feebly, “and no other information that we might run across—demonstrations that are being planned or rumors of what is happening in Newport or New York.”

  “Of course, we are interested in whatever you might learn. We are…”

  As the officer continued, Pierce ran a hand impatiently over his face. He walked away from the fireplace and stood by his chair, looking past the officers toward the window. Feelings of frustration were engulfing him, and it had nothing to do with David’s arrival or even Middleton’s assumption that he and Nathaniel were low enough to become informers and spies.

  Pierce’s frustration stemmed from the fact that Portia, the daft woman, was trying to climb a tree in broad daylight.

  *****

  From a branch of the nearby pear tree, Portia peered into Helena’s room. The windows and curtains were open, but she could not see her. Perhaps, she thought, her mother was lying on the bed or perhaps sitting in a chair in the corner. There was also the possibility that she had left the room entirely. It was possible that after the incident last night Helena had been moved to another room. She was not familiar with the entire layout of the house. The draper’s assistant she had paid for the information had only worked in this wing of the mansion. Still though, she had to get inside somehow and it had to be today. What were the chances of ever coming this close again?

  Approaching voices drew Portia’s attention to a brick walk leading from another part of the garden. Partially hidden by the leaves and branches of the tree, she searched for Jack. The last thing she wished for was to get him in any trouble with admiral’s servants. She felt bad enough after the scare she had given him in jumping out of the carriage when he slowed down to go over the bridge. Luckily, the groom was nowhere to be found. Two serving women were walking slowly toward the house.