Tender Fortune

by Judith E. French

"You think she'll be happier as the wife of Richard Moreland?"

  "I know so. She needs security, Jamie. That's something you could never give her."

  Jamie laughed. "I suppose I've none to spare."

  Charity pressed closer to the intertwined hollies as the voices grew louder. If only the moon weren't so bright! Something scurried away inches from her bare feet. Charity shut her eyes and breathed as quietly as she could. They must not find her here. Whatever Elizabeth and Jamie Drummond were involved in, she had heard too much.

  Elizabeth emerged from the maze and crossed the lawn not ten feet from where Charity stood. She paused on the step and looked back. "Be careful. I care a great deal about your welfare too." She went in and closed the heavy door behind her.

  Charity held her breath. She had lost track of Jamie. Where was he? She waited for what seemed like hours. There was no sound but the drone of insects and the repeated song of the whippoorwill. Had he gone?

  She eased back a half step; her muscles were in agony from standing still so long. A twig snapped beneath her foot and she let out a gasp of pain as another holly leaf pierced her heel.

  Without warning, strong hands seized her and threw her to the ground. A hand clamped over her mouth. "What are you doing here?" a voice rasped. "How dare you spy on your mistress?" A male face loomed over hers. "Charity!" Jamie's laughter was sarcastic. "I should have known it would be you! Damn it to hell!"

  Still holding the hand firmly over her mouth, he gathered her struggling body into his arms and carried her back into the maze.

  "Let... me... go!" Her protest was violent if muffled. Her fists beat a tattoo against his head and shoulder. "Put... me... down!" Even as she struggled, she was aware that he was striding deeper and deeper into the maze. Fear coursed through her veins. Was he going to kill her?

  Charity had been in the maze only once. She'd taken a skein of wool from the cloth house and had tried to find her way to the center. The narrow path had twisted and turned, doubling back upon itself over and over again. The holly was higher than her head, grown together into a living roof in places. Elizabeth had called her from the game, and she had never had the time to try again.

  Jamie sat her down hard on something solid. "I'll let go of your mouth if you promise to keep quiet. Do you?"

  There was no arguing with that commanding tone. She nodded, lowering her fists. Cautiously he removed his hand. "Why—"

  His rigid features cut off her question in midsentence. Moonlight played upon the highlights of his face; his eyes were hooded. Charity shivered. She did not know this man. Who and what was he?

  Lips tightly compressed, he stepped back and regarded her intently. Unconsciously he rubbed at his left arm. A dark stain showed through the white linen of his shirt. "Must you always do me physical damage?" he asked caustically.

  "Oh," she cried. "You're hurt." She made to rise and go to him, but he waved her back to the bench.

  The circle in the center of the maze was small, perhaps twelve feet across. Charity glanced around to see which direction the entrance was. There were three openings. Warily she glanced back at Jamie. "What are you going to do to me?"

  "Why were you spying on us? How much did you hear?"

  "I wasn't spying... well... I didn't mean to. Not at first. I heard you arguing. Rather I heard someone arguing with Elizabeth and I went to see if she needed my help."

  "And naturally you hid and listened."

  "No! It wasn't like that. I heard you talking about me. What is it you don't want me to find out?"

  He dropped to the bench beside her. "Are you lying again?"

  "If I was, do ye think I'd say so?"

  For the first time Jamie seemed to notice her state of undress. Charity felt her pulse quicken under his unwavering scrutiny. The fear which had gripped her was gone. His face softened.

  She touched his arm gently. "I never meant to hurt your arm. Why did you grab me so? I'd not have screamed if you spoke to me like a gentleman. Whatever you and Elizabeth are about, it's none of my business. I can hold my tongue, I swear it."

  Jamie chuckled. "'And she as much in love, her means much less to meet her new-beloved anywhere: But passion lends them power, time means, to meet, tempering extremities with extreme sweet.'"

  "Have you lost your senses?" Tendrils of her hair spilled around the heart-shaped face as she leaned toward him. "Jamie, are you daft to mouth such nonsense?"

  The chuckle turned to low laughter. "'Tis from a play, Charity sweet. Lines from a play. Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare. Did you know I trod the boards?"

  Charity looked at him quizzically, her eyes childlike in the moon's brilliance. "I don't understand. You mean you were an actor of sorts?"

  "Of sorts. I had a natural flair for it. When I was fifteen, I ran away from home and joined a company of actors. I never got to play Romeo, of course. But I might have if my father's men hadn't caught up with me. I was with them a year." One finger stroked her cheek. "No Juliet ever looked as beautiful as you do tonight," he continued seriously. His finger brushed across her full lower lip. "This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower."

  Charity jerked away. "No need to make fun of me. I'm not ignorant. I been to plays in London. Mam had an actor for a protector one winter."

  He caught at her hand, raising it to his lips. "The words are not mine... but they were written about someone very like you." Jamie brought the tips of her fingers to his lips, then turned her hand in his to kiss the pulse of her wrist. "I make no mock of you," he murmured. She made a slight sound of protest, and he pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly.

  A flicker of excitement caused her to tremble. How easily she fit in his arms; how naturally her body seemed to mold to his. Jamie's tender kiss deepened, and Charity's lips parted to taste the sweetness of his tongue. She sighed a soft moan of desire. A sweet ache in her loins forced her to press closer, ever closer. Their tongues touched tentatively, and the tingling sensation moved up through her knees, leaving Charity weak with longing.

  The heady masculine smell of him filled her brain. Her skin felt velvet-soft; her breathing quickened. Jamie's kisses grew steadily more fervent, sending a river of passion through her veins. Her moans of delight mingled with his as the aching within intensified into an overwhelming need.

  A shudder of ecstasy passed through her body as Jamie's lips trailed down her throat and lingered on the swelling of her breast above the dressing gown. Vaguely she became aware of his fingers fumbling with the tie.

  With a murmur of assent, Charity drew his head down until his lips touched the softness of her nipple. A gasp of pleasure escaped her lips as he gently caressed it with the tip of his tongue, then took it between his lips and tugged gently.

  The moon broke through the clouds overhead, illuminating the secluded bower with the soft glow of an enchanted sunrise. Charity's senses reeled. The beauty of the night... the sensual joy of Jamie's touch overwhelmed her. "I love you," she whispered.

  "Sweet... little sweet." His free hand sought her other breast, stroking and teasing until her nipples hardened and stung with the ache to be kissed, igniting the molten fire within her.

  "I've never..." Their lips met again, sending a flood of hot, tingling desire through her brain, silencing all her doubts... pushing back reason.

  "I've dreamed about you," Jamie said hoarsely. "About touching you like this... loving you." His hand slid down her bare thigh. "Beautiful Charity... beautiful little sweet."

  Languidly she lay back against him, her head against the hollow of his throat. There was no sound but their own breathing, as though they were alone in a private world. Charity raised one hand to stroke the line of his jaw, then moved slowly to pull his head closer. "I've never done this before," she repeated. "Not with anyone." Jamie's hand brushed the tangle of curls between her legs, and she felt the moistness gather a heartbeat away.

  Shyly she began to explore Jamie's body with her own hands
, slipping them inside his shirt to caress the muscles of his chest and shoulders. His breathing told her of the urgency of his arousal before her searching fingers found the undeniable proof. A delicious chuckle spilled from her lips.

  "Witch," he accused. Laughing, they slipped into the soft grass. Charity lay on her back in the moonlight; Jamie stretched above her, propped on one knee and elbow. "I want you as I've never wanted another woman," he admitted thickly. He pressed her back into the cushiony turf, kissing her lips, her eyelids, and the soft, sweet places of her throat. "Let me kiss you, darling... all over."

  A velvet-soft tongue flicked across her nipples until she clung to him, raking his back with her nails. Jamie, she cried wordlessly. His fingers touched her throbbing mound and he breathed kisses against the blond curls.

  "Let me..." he coaxed. "Please..." Her thighs parted for his caress.

  "Caroline!" A loud voice calling her name brought Charity crashing down to earth. She rolled over, clasping the dressing gown about her.

  Cursing under his breath, Jamie fumbled to secure his clothing.

  "Caroline!"

  "That's Elizabeth," he said. "Damn it to hell! She can't find us here like this." He helped Charity to her feet and brushed the grass from her hair. "Tie that damned gown shut or I'll have you with or without Elizabeth," he threatened.

  White-faced, Charity did as she was told. What had come over her? Another few moments and she would have been a maid no longer! Was the sin of lust so heavy on her soul that she would give up all for a roll in the grass? "What will I tell Elizabeth?" she begged.

  "Tell her nothing. Don't say you've seen me tonight." He paused and kissed her swiftly. "Soon, my sweet. And the next time there'll be no interruptions!" He ducked through one of the gaps in the holly and was gone.

  Elizabeth's voice came again. "Caroline! Are you out here?"

  Charity clasped her arms around her middle. What should she do? If she answered, would not Elizabeth meet Jamie in the maze? What excuse could they give then? It would be plain what they had been doing. Elizabeth would throw her off the plantation for a slut and harlot! But if she didn't answer... if she didn't call out, she'd never find her way out of the maze in the dark!

  Chapter 6

  "Caroline!" Elizabeth's voice was fainter now. She had left the garden; it sounded as though she were somewhere near the kitchen yard.

  Charity lost no time in taking the same opening in the holly that Jamie had disappeared through. It was dark in the maze. She stepped cautiously, hoping to avoid more sharp spines in her bare feet. She cursed under her breath; if there was one thing she hated, it was being alone in the dark.

  Not more than ten feet along the path, it divided in two. Which one to take? The moonlight filtered through the leaves above, making each choice equally shadowy. Instinctively she turned right. A few paces along, the passageway split again. She kept to the right. Another four yards and her way was blocked by a thick wall of holly.

  Charity bit down on her lip as she trod on a sticker. Patience, she reminded herself. She backtracked to the last division and tried the alternate path. This way was darker yet. A stray branch caught in her hair and she was yanked up short until she worked it free. The path narrowed and ended in three solid posts.

  Damn Jamie Drummond! He must have known the way out by heart. Why hadn't he waited for her? Slowly she inched back to the second intersection of the path. Now, which way had she gone? Right. She must go left, then.

  As she wound deeper and deeper into the living puzzle, she lost all sense of direction. Occasionally she heard shouts, realizing that the servants had taken up the search. Twice she found herself repeating the same mistakes. She found the three posts again, but wasn't sure if it was from the same side or the other side... or if they really were the same three posts or just identical ones.

  Her left cheek bore a long scratch and her fingers were bleeding in more places than she wanted to count. This maze was a devil's plot! She'd never get out! They'd probably find her here when she starved to death and the crows came to devour her body! Stubbornly she kept trying. If Jamie had gotten out, there must be a way. She hadn't found her way back to the center.

  Suddenly, without warning, the ground gave out beneath her and she tumbled into a hole! Her gasp of pain and surprise was impossible to contain. For almost a minute, she was afraid to move. Surely someone had heard her! Her hands found the dirt behind her and she gathered her feet under her and stood up. The hole was chest high. Her head and hands pushed aside some light branches overhead.

  What in the name of mercy had she fallen into? She explored the pit cautiously. It was nearly as wide as the path and—the far end was a tunnel! Above the way was barred with a wooden barrier, but below... Below was a hole too big to have been dug by any rabbit. Charity ducked her head and crawled into the darkness.

  The walls and floor were dirt; now and then she brushed against a wooden support. You low sneaking dog, she muttered to herself. Jamie has escaped this way! She knew it!

  Damn but she hated the dark! Even worse, she hated being closed in. Once when she was a brat, she'd lifted a gold watch from a gentleman that she'd thought was drunker than he was. A half dozen people had chased her through the streets, crying for the law. She'd dodged and run until she could run no more.

  Then she'd rolled under a wall and dove down an enclosed runoff for floodwater. The passageway had been smaller than this, but she'd been smaller too. It had been half choked with mud and slime. Her heart had nearly stopped when rats had run across her back, but she'd kept going until she was far enough in not to be seen. She'd hidden in that hellish shaft for hours before getting up nerve enough to come out.

  Charity suppressed a chuckle. The price of that watch had seen her and Mam through a terribly cold Christmas. They'd had bread and gravy for two months. They'd have starved without it, Mam being big with child at the time.

  Nobody would go to the work of building a tunnel that didn't go anywhere. Charity kept crawling until she could see light ahead. "I knew it," she said. A few more yards and then she was pushing aside a screen of cedar boughs. At her feet ran the river.

  She scrambled out and looked around. The covering over the tunnel was woven together; she propped it back in place and tried to figure out where she was. The river ran close to the back of the plantation gardens, but she was uncertain of her exact position. As she searched for a familiar landmark, she noticed a single footprint on the edge of the bank. A long gouge beside it showed where a small boat had been pulled up.

  "Well, I know how, but I don't know why." All this sneaking around in the night had to amount to something. Could Jamie be involved with the smugglers? And if he was... No. It wasn't possible! Lady Deale would never be a party to smuggling. Why would she risk her lands and wealth... unless... unless the money from smuggling was badly needed to keep Widow's Endeavor going.

  She shook her head. She was building something of nothing. Elizabeth was surely innocent. Perhaps she had caught Jamie in his wrongdoing and was only warning him. They were business associates. If Jamie were caught, Elizabeth would be in great danger. It was only natural she would try to prevent him from continuing his reckless foolishness.

  James Drummond was a scoundrel! Elizabeth had told her that from the beginning. She'd been too busy listening to his sweet lies and staring into his pretty face to pay heed to good advice. Charity drew a long shuddering breath. She'd nearly lost her maidenhead to his charms. 'Twas what came of listening to her heart instead of her head! She'd have no further truck with a smuggler! She might be a fool, but she wasn't stupid.

  The law of the Crown was severe and swift. A girl might get away with pokering a bloke to death, but smuggling would mean the rope. She'd seen children hanged at Tyburn for stealing a loaf of bread! The gold watch aside, she'd never been a thief and didn't want to begin now. She'd have no more to do with Jamie. And if he were caught, he'd pay the price—but he'd pay it alone.

  She followed the
riverbank until she came to the sheep meadow. The outline of the manor house was plain in the moonlight. Crossing the field, she crept around the kitchen outbuildings until she noticed the clothesline running between the woodshed and a tree. It was short work to strip a mobcap and gown from the line. In the shadows of the smokehouse, she pulled off her dressing gown and donned the maid's clothing. Twisting her hair up under the hat, she made a bundle of the bedrobe.

  A serving girl crossed the yard calling her name. Charity waited until she was out of hearing, then went in the way the maid had come out. No one saw her slip up the back stairs and into the open doorway of her bedchamber.

  Safe in her room, Charity whipped off the maid's clothes, rolled them up with the torn and dirty robe, and stuffed them behind the firescreen. In the morning , she'd dispose of them safely. She dropped a clean nightgown over her head, brushed the leaves from her hair, scrubbed heir face, hands, and feet, and crawled under the bed.

  Concealed by the hangings on the four-poster, Charity curled into a ball and dropped dreamlessly to sleep. Who would have looked for her under the bed? Could she help it if she'd fallen into old patterns and crawled under the bed in a nightmare? Who could say she hadn't?

  * * *

  On Sunday, Charity and Elizabeth were invited to dinner at Moreland House in order that Squire Moreland's children might become better acquainted with the prospective bride. Elizabeth chose Charity's attire with special care, wanting on one hand to enchant Richard, and on the other to avoid antagonizing the younger Morelands. She decided after long consideration on a modest gown of dusty rose, easily worth the price of an untrained slave. "Wear your pearls," she advised. "They show off your flawless skin, not to mention your... other attributes." She flashed a mischievous smile. "A woman must make the best of her body while it retains its proper shape."

  There were delays and protests from Charity as the gown was taken in another inch at the waist, and her lips were touched with faint color.

  "I never wore paint before!" She regarded herself in the wavery mirror. "Don't want to look like a whore."