Charity's whole life had become a deception. She was no longer Charity Brown but a mixture of Charity and Caroline. If she were to keep the good qualities of the girl who was raised in the streets of London, she must be honest with herself. Feeling as she did about Jamie, she could not allow him to be arrested... not even if he were truly guilty of smuggling. And if she must risk her own safety to save him...
The decision made, a sense of relief flooded her body. Smiling, she turned back to Elizabeth She would go tonight and do what she could, and the devil take the hindmost! Only a small niggling doubt remained to plague her. She hated to deceive Elizabeth. But to tell her about the plot and, worse, to tell her what she planned to do about it, would surely and irrevocably involve the older woman in the crime. No, it was better to stumble through on her own. Then, if she were caught, Elizabeth might yet escape arrest.
* * *
The devil seemed almost to have taken an interest in Charity's plotting. Even as she and Elizabeth were partaking of a light supper, an excited servant burst into the dining room with a message from Lord Beauford. Their carriage had thrown a wheel on the way home and Lady Edith had been badly injured in the accident.
"'Is lordship fears 'er leg has been broken," the man panted. "'E bade me ride to fetch ye at once!" He shook his head, concern evident on the pale, plain features. "She's in a lot o' pain, poor lady. But you know 'er, she ain't makin' no fuss."
Elizabeth stood up and dropped her napkin beside her untouched plate. "I'll come immediately. Go to the stable and tell them to saddle my Prince and a fresh horse for you. It will not take me a minute to change into my riding habit."
The man tugged at his forelock and backed from the room.
Elizabeth gave a few instructions to her servants, then glanced at Charity. "I hope they've had sense enough to send for the physician. I'll take my own bag in case they haven't. Damn this custom of carriages anyway! These cowpaths aren't fit for them in good weather. We'd be much more sensible to travel by horseback or boat."
"Will you need me?" Charity offered, hoping Elizabeth would say no. "If somebody had to break something, why couldn't it have been Charles's wife or Olivia?"
Elizabeth chuckled. "That's hardly a Christian sentiment, Caroline. No, there's nothing you can do at Avalon. Bide here, and if I should need you, I'll send someone." She brushed Charity's cheek with a light kiss. "You'll be fine, child. Don't wait up for me, I'll spend the night no matter what I find. Harry must have a dozen guest chambers. I really must take you there for a visit when Edith is recovered. The manor house will rival anything in Virginia."
Elizabeth hurried upstairs to change, and Charity pretended to finish her supper. She was genuinely sorry to hear about Lady Edith and hoped the older woman wasn't hurt as badly as they feared. Pretending a headache, Charity retired to her room at dusk. What she had to do must be done with as much secrecy as possible. Dressed in her own riding habit, she made her way silently down the back stairs and out to the stable without being seen by any of the maids. In the darkness of the barn, she pulled on her boots. She'd had a notion of saddling Duchess and riding to Bold Venture alone, but when a stableboy appeared she gave orders that a horse be harnessed to a light conveyance.
"Now, Miss Caroline?"
"Immediately. I must go to Bold Venture on a matter of urgent business for Lady Deale. You'll have to drive me."
The boy scratched his head. He was barely fourteen and had never been given the job of driving the mistress anywhere. Maybe he'd been promoted to groom and no one had told him. He grinned. "Whatever you say, Miss Caroline. Which horse do you want?"
"What do I care what horse?" Charity folded her arms impatiently. "Pick whatever animal you like, but hurry!"
In a matter of minutes, the two-wheeled cart was rolling down the dirt lane and turning south toward Jamie's plantation.
Charity clung to the seat and gritted her teeth against the jolting of the high-wheeled vehicle. The boy beside her was plainly enjoying himself as he cracked the whip over the bay's back and sawed at the reins. Sand spun from under the wheels as they moved swiftly through the soft summer night.
Only a few stars were visible, and Charity wondered how the horse could see where he was going. The warm night air felt soft against her face, and in spite of herself she was beginning to enjoy her adventure and the prospect of seeing Jamie again.
The cart dipped down through a gully and crossed a muddy creek. A mother raccoon and three little ones dove for safety as they splashed past. Charity peered into the darkness after them, wishing she could see the family by daylight. The horse tossed his head and snorted at the water and plunged up the incline on the other side. The wheels settled into well-worn ruts.
"Not far now, mistress," the boy informed her. "Just through this woods ahead. We're on Bold Venture land now."
Their arrival was anticlimactic. A middle-aged housekeeper informed Charity that the master was away and had, in fact, not been home for several nights. She believed he might be in Oxford. Her eyes showed plainly that she did not believe Charity's story about business for Lady Deale. Charity got the distinct feeling that she was not the only young woman to show up after dark with a farfetched story.
There was nothing to do but return to Widow's Endeavor. On the way home, Charity revised her plans. If Jamie had indeed gone to Oxford, she must follow. Oxford was where a sailor from the ship was to meet the smuggler... at a tavern known as the Red Boar.
The problem was that Elizabeth's niece, Caroline Smythe-Tarylton, could hardly be seen running about the waterfront of Oxford after dark, especially unescorted. Caroline couldn't go. As dangerous as it would be, Charity would have to find Jamie and warn him.
Charity had the boy wait at the step while she ran upstairs and retrieved the maid's mobcap and gown she had hidden under her feather tick. What a fuss there had been about the missing clothes the morning after she had been lost in the maze. Two kitchen girls had gotten into a fistfight, one claiming the other was a thief. Charity had felt so guilty she had given the injured party enough coppers to buy material for two dresses and the accused a red ribbon for her hair. Elizabeth had said she was spoiling the help. If only she knew Charity herself was the clothing snatcher!
Still, the servant's clothes had been too valuable to give back once she had paid for them. Who knew when she might need such a disguise again? And tonight was the very time!
With the cap and gown rolled into a ball and augmented by a pair of well-worn moccasins from the kitchen step, Charity scrambled back into the cart.
"Oxford," she ordered crisply.
The boy grinned widely. This was turning out to be a night he would talk about for months. "Yes, m'am!" He turned the horse's head back down the lane, ignoring the stares of two other men in the yard. "Oxford you want, Oxford we're headin' for, Miss Caroline!"
The ride to Oxford was much longer and bumpier than the one to Jamie's plantation. Charity hoped they would arrive in time. God only knew what excuse she would give Elizabeth if she survived this night! She'd told enough lies today to keep her on her knees saying Our Fathers for a month if she ever met Father Brady again to give her confession.
Charity chewed at her lower lip. She had felt so much better after confessing her sins to the priest. She was a sinner, of that there was no doubt. She had done things that she was ashamed of, but so far, tonight wasn't one of them. Smuggling was against the law of the Crown, not against any of the Ten Commandments as far as she knew... unless it was the one against stealing. She shook her head. Best not to think too much about what she was getting herself into. Father Brady could surely make it all right again if she were truly repentant.
The moon had risen and hung in the sky like a golden crescent. The stars were blazing candles of cold fire. Charity sighed, awed by the majesty of the night heavens. Had the stars ever shone so brightly in England? Had the sky ever been such a rich velvet? This Tidewater land wove a powerful spell of sorcery. In the short time she had
been here, this country with its strange customs and hot bright sunlight had worked its way into her heart as surely as had Jamie Drummond.
To the stableboy's disappointment, Charity had him pull the horse into the woods a short way from Oxford Town. "Wait here until I return," she instructed. "If you move from this spot, or tell anyone where I've gone, it will go the worse for you."
"No, m'am," he promised. "I won't. I'll wait right here."
"Good. There'll be a reward for you if you obey me exactly." Tucking her bundle under her arm, she walked off resolutely into the trees, leaving the bewildered teenager behind.
When she was out of sight, Charity changed out of her riding habit and into the maid's dress and cap. The moccasins were a little large and flapped when she walked, but they would have to do. Charity returned to the road a few hundred feet from where the horse and cart waited and walked toward the town.
She had been in Oxford twice, both times in daylight. It was a thriving port by Colony standards, but there were only a few streets. She was certain she could find the harbor area and the Red Boar.
A small hound dog ran out to bark at her, but otherwise Charity was ignored as she walked down a residential street toward the docks. A man on horseback called out to her good-naturedly, and she tossed back a saucy reply. A woman passed by, arm-in-arm with a rather drunken young man. From the tongue-lashing she was giving him, Charity thought she must be his wife. She followed the street until it ended at the river, then turned uphill down a narrow alley. She could make out the silhouettes of a dozen sailing ships at anchor on the smooth dark water. A lantern bobbed in the Iront of a dinghy being rowed ashore.
Charity quickened her pace as she came to the first tavern. A sign over the entrance proclaimed the establishment as the Mare's Nest. Through the open doorway she could see the main room was crowded with customers. A boy came to the door and threw a pan of scraps into the street. He grinned and winked at Charity, and she waved back. Business must be good in Oxford if a tavern could throw out such good food, Charity thought. At home, such leftovers went into the stewpot. In fact, everything went into the stewpot to be served as tomorrow's dinner, some things better left unmentioned.
Major Whiggsby had said that the Irish Lass's bosun was to wait for the smuggler to contact him this night at the Red Boar. The two men did not know each other. The smuggler was to recognize the bosun by his red striped shirt and a gold ring in his left ear. The bosun would ask the man who approached him what drink was good in this town, and the proper answer was to be, "Whatever's untaxed." After that, the two were to go elsewhere to plan where the smuggled goods were to be put ashore. It would go no further, for many of the tavern's customers were soldiers in disguise. When the smuggler gave the password, they would seize him. He was not to escape, even if it meant his death!
A sailor staggered around the corner and caught Charity in his arms. "Ah, me precious," he slurred. "Where is such a toothsome armful off to?"
"To meet a man twice as high an' twice as wide as you!" she quipped, twisting free. "There he is now! Sven!" she yelled. The sailer let out a yelp of surprise and disappeared through the nearest doorway.
Chuckling to herself, Charity continued her search for the Red Boar. The meeting was to be after midnight, but she had no way of telling the time.
The fourth tavern she came to was the right one. Taking a deep breath, she walked through the doorway as though she belonged. She crossed boldly to the counter where a fat woman was setting pewter tankards of ale on a round tray.
"I'm lookin' fer me husband," Charity lied. "Big fella." She held one hand over her head. "Sven Johnson by name. Docked tonight on the Mary Jane. 'E told me ta meet 'im 'ere."
The fat woman's eyes narrowed suspiciously, and she wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of work-worn hands.
"This is a decent tavern," she warned. "No sluts or whores allowed. If you've come ta meet yer man, well enough. But if you've come to ply yer trade, I'll take me broom to yer head."
Charity put up her hands and smiled disarmingly. "One man be enough fer me, 'specially one as demandin' as me Sven. Never marry a Swede, me mother warned me, an' a seafarin' Swede's the worst. If I don't get his pay tonight, me an' the kids will do without fer another two year!"
"Well then, take a seat o'er by the chimney. Ya can see the door. We got a full crowd tonight, but I ain't seen yer Swede. But it's early yet. He may come in. You hungry?"
Her smile became a grin. "I'd not say no to a bite or a mug, but I've no coin till my man comes in."
"Tote this tray to them gents in the corner. You can help out till yer Swede comes in. My Ben ain't tight wi' his girls. You can grab some bread and meat and a mug between customers."
Charity picked up the tray and delivered the ale neatly to the indicated table. The irony of her situation tickled her and it was all she could do to keep from laughing. She'd come halfway across the world and become a lady so she could pretend to be a barmaid and save a would-be gentleman smuggler from the rope. It was beyond belief.
The Red Boar was indeed a clean, orderly tavern. The two other girls who waited on tables were friendly enough, but it was obvious that there was no "upstairs room" here for extra income from the customers. Charity approved. Her stepfather's tavern had been run the same way. It was too hard on-the girls, to wait on tables and whore at the same time. Whatever went on after hours was a barmaid's business and no one else's.
The customers seemed to respect Ben's rules. Only once did the burly man have to bash a sailor alongside the head with a cudgel for pulling a knife on a shipmate. The girls took good-natured teasing and an occasional pat on the fanny, but never had to struggle to keep the men from becoming really unpleasant.
About an hour after she'd started to work, the bosun wearing the striped shirt came in. He took a table near the bade of the room and ordered ale. Charity saw no sign of Jamie, or of anyone she knew. It was hard to tell which customers were really who they seemed to be and which were soldiers. One man dressed as a common seaman was obviously an officer. When she'd taken ale to his table, she'd noticed that he had clean hands and fingernails. No sailor's hands ever looked so soft.
The bosun was obviously nervous; he kept watching the door and staring at the faces of the other customers, looking away quickly when he saw someone he recognized. Charity was contemptuous. What kind of spy was he? Such a man would have been thrown out of her stepfather's tavern as a matter of course. A fool like that ruined business!
Charity began to feel silly. Jamie Drummond was probably miles away from here. She had dreamed up the whole outrageous scheme! She had no proof that he was involved in the smuggling, and she'd come to Oxford to save his neck from the King's justice. She'd backed herself into a sticky corner. What happened when the real smuggler showed up and a fight ensued? Would it be impossible to get away without being swept into the net?
The fat woman sent her back into the kitchen for another slab of beef. As she pushed open the half door, her heart sank. That square face, the close-cropped black hair... She would know him anywhere. It was Halifax... Captain Daniel Halifax. Charity ducked her head and grabbed the plate of meat off the worktable. Halifax was giving his attention to another of the barmaids. With luck, he wouldn't even notice her.
Charity carried the meat to the counter and edged toward the door. She had to get out of there. Halifax knew her as Caroline. If he caught sight of her, he'd make the connection between her and Jamie, whether Jamie was guilty or not. As she reached the doorway, she nearly collided with a man in a shapeless felt hat.
"Easy there!" he called, catching her arms.
Stunned, Charity stared up into the bespectacled, smiling face of Father Brady. "Father," she gasped, pulling away. Her eye fell on his left arm. A white linen bandage showed against the deep tan of his skin. Her eyes riveted to the cinnamon-brown ones behind the wire-rim glasses. Her stomach turned over, and there was a roaring in her brain.
He seemed struck as dumb
as she. "Charity?" His voice cracked huskily. "What are you doing—"
"Sven!" she cried. "I've been waitin' half the night!" She threw her arms around his neck and pushed him backward through the doorway. "Sven, you big ape, I've missed ye so!" Outside, she seized his arm and whispered urgently. "Run! For the love of God, Jamie! It's a trap! Halifax is inside!"
Dragging her with him, Jamie ran around the corner and threw his shoulder against a door. The wood creaked and splintered, the rotten hinges giving under the repeated blows. They ducked inside and he led the way through piles of rubbish, through a lean-to, and out another door.
"What are you—"
"Shut up and run!" he ordered. Two soldiers came toward them and Jamie lifted her bodily off the ground and began to kiss her passionately. The hat and spectacles were gone, where she didn't have the faintest idea. "Ah, Maggie," he moaned. "My little Maggie."
One of the soldiers made a rude comment as they brushed past. Charity tried to look, but Jamie caught her arms and wrapped them around his neck. "You can stop now," she protested.
"What? When it's been so long?" He caught his injured arm about her waist and walked her down the alley.
"I'm going to kill you myself," Charity hissed. A flood of curses spilled from his lips and he stopped them with another kiss.
"Later, my love. Halifax is no fool! They'll be after us in a heartbeat." Her hand was tightly clasped in his and she had no choice but to follow as he began to walk again.
"You bastard." She was near to weeping with fear and fury.
"I said later. Shut your mouth or I'll knock you senseless and carry you. I can tell anyone I meet my doxy's had too much to drink and has passed out." The hard tone of his voice added to the menace of his words. "Just don't say anything, no matter what you see. Keep your head down."
Charity nodded. Shouts behind them turned her blood to ice. They kept walking until Jamie tapped at a door that looked like every other door. It opened after what seemed forever and they stepped into a darkened room.
Tender Fortune Page 10
