Tender Fortune

by Judith E. French

  "The sheriff was kidnapped," Lord Beauford explained. "Held prisoner for a week in a cabin in the woods."

  "They thought to hold me until the fleet sailed," Bennett explained. "But I escaped."

  "A strange business." Wallace's eyes narrowed. "He carried nearly fifty pounds in hard money, all taxes due His Majesty. They didn't touch a shilling."

  "The leader was a fellow Captain Halifax has been looking for," the sheriff continued. "A priest by the name of Brady."

  Charity's heart skipped a beat. "Father Brady?"

  "You do know him."

  Beauford frowned at his wife. "She met him when she first came to the Colonies a year ago, but we've seen nothing of him in months. I had no idea he was connected with criminals."

  "Smuggling for certain." Captain Halifax joined the group. "We nearly had him last year in Oxford." He bowed to Charity and Lord Beauford. "My lord, my lady. I feel Sheriff Bennett's abduction is connected."

  "But what reason would these smugglers have for holding the high sheriff?" Charity asked, hoping that her voice showed the proper detachment. Jamie. It had to be. But why? "If they didn't mean to rob him of the tax money? It seems senseless."

  "Perhaps he thinks of himself as some sort of Robin Hood," Captain Wallace suggested.

  "I hardly think this conversation suitable for Lady Beauford," Harry said. "I suggest we retire to the library and continue our discussion over brandy, gentlemen." He released Charity's arm. "If you'll excuse us, my dear."

  "My lord. Gentlemen." She nodded regally. "I'll have someone see to your refreshment." Charity looked about the crowded room as if searching for a servant. Where was he? Had he gone? What had possessed him to become involved in such a dangerous undertaking? Her green eyes twinkled mischievously in the candlelight as a smile played across her lips. It would have been worth all the gowns in her trunk to see the sheriff's face when Father Brady captured him!

  John crossed the room and Charity signaled to him. "Lord Beauford will have brandy served in the library." He gave the barest of nods and hurried off.

  Charity moved from room to room, chatting with first one group, then another. Once a young man pressed a goblet into her hand and she was forced to drink a toast to King George.

  The musicians were playing livelier tunes now and she was tempted to accept one of many invitations to join the dancing. She didn't see Jamie anywhere. He must have gone. After the things she'd said, why would he stay?

  She found Nan in the kitchen and spoke softly to her. "Look among the guests for a Scot, a Captain MacKenzie. If you find him, come and tell me at once." She hoped she could trust the girl. She seemed loyal and was no gossip. "It's urgent... and a very private matter," Charity added.

  "Yes, my lady." Nan had noticed the gentleman her ladyship mentioned. A strange one, she thought. But her ladyship's business was her own. Nan bobbed a curtsy and ducked through the kitchen door.

  Charity had started up the steps to check on Kat when Jane Comegys called out to her.

  "We've been looking for you. Lady Deale says you must come into the great hall for the opening of the baby's gifts."

  Charity noticed that Jane's birthmark was nearly hidden by powder and she was wearing a yellow satin gown in the latest London fashion. It must have been a good year for tobacco at Sweetwater, she thought. "Should I call my lord?"

  "I wouldn't. The men are all engaged elsewhere, unless you count Percival Van Doon. The poor man's at least a hundred and deaf as a stump."

  The library door opened and the butler stepped into the polished hall with a tray of glasses. Lord Beauford's voice boomed above the rest. "...here at Avalon. I'll not have my family put in danger!" John pulled the door to behind him cutting off the rest of the conversation.

  Jane watched coolly until the butler entered the service door to the kitchen hall. "Can't stand that man," she admitted frankly. "Always sneaking about."

  Charity nodded. Something would have to be done about John. But what? "Did your husband come? I didn't see him."

  "Tom?" She laughed. "It's not likely with the sheriff here." Her voice dropped as she saw Charity's puzzled look. "The taxes." Her glance moved to the library door. "More than one planter on the Eastern Shore is glad Bennett was kidnapped. Not that my Tom had anything to do with it. But Bennett's a hard man. They're saying he carries warrants for the arrest of two men on him tonight."

  Charity paled, her fingers tightening on the banister. "What men? He means to arrest someone here at Avalon?"

  Jane shrugged. "I don't know. It's not something we have to worry about in any case. They're certainly not going to accuse Lord Beauford of any crime, and Tom's far enough back in the woods that the fleet will be anchored in London before anyone sets eyes on him again."

  "Go on. I'll be there in a minute. There's something I have to do." Taking a deep breath, Charity put her hand on the small brass doorknob and turned it, stepping daintily into the midst of Harry's private domain.

  "Forgive me, my lord," she cried, going to Harry and taking his hand. She looked about the room wide-eyed and, she hoped, foolish. "I've just heard the most dreadful rumor. I was so frightened I had to come and ask you if it was true."

  Captain Halifax broke off a heated exchange with the sheriff. "What's wrong, Lady Beauford? Is there anything we can do to help?" Charity noticed that he was wearing silver buckles on his red-heeled shoes tonight. He and MacKenzie would have been in competition for the most flamboyant attire.

  "I was just told"—she leaned against Harry for support—"that the sheriff means to arrest two criminals here at Avalon. Is it true?" she demanded. At least she had no need to pretend the fear. That was real enough. "Who are these varlets? Are we in danger? There are children here and innocent women!"

  "Calm yourself, Lady Beauford," Captain Wallace soothed. "There's no need for panic."

  "But this is my home," she insisted. "I demand to know who these people are."

  Bennett's face turned a deep crimson. "There's no secret about it. I have warrants for the arrest of the priest Brady and for one Angus MacKenzie, on charges of smuggling and kidnapping." He drew himself up to his full height and cleared his throat loudly. "The truth of the matter, Lady Beauford, is that we believe these two may be one and the same man."

  Chapter 22

  It was a garden of shadows. Cedars and boxwoods stood like sentinels in the wavering light of the hunter's moon as clouds drifted across the sky, first hiding then revealing the magnificence of the brilliant orange globe.

  He had been waiting for what seemed like hours in the cold of the November night. He was chilled through and through, and his fingers felt like blocks of wood.

  The house glowed with the light of hundreds of candles; laughter and voices seeped through the multipaned windows. Music from the house and barn mingled with the rattle of carriage wheels and the sound of horses' hooves against the frozen ground. From deeper in the garden came a woman's high-pitched giggle and the low timbre of a male voice.

  Jamie's throat tightened. Lovers. He wondered if the woman was betraying another man by this secret rendezvous. Why else would they be meeting in the dark in this bitter weather? He let out a deep breath and pulled his cloak closer about his body. If he let his mind run on in this vein, he'd end up with his neck in a noose. It was stupid—no, worse than stupid—suicidal, to dwell on Charity when he had business to tend to.

  A shadow detached itself from the brick wall of the house and moved across the lawn. There was a faint pad of footsteps. Jamie stood motionless, his hand resting lightly on the pistol at his waist.

  The figure stopped six feet from where Jamie waited. "Captain?"

  "John?" Jamie eased the pistol out.

  "It's me." The man closed the distance between them. "They didn't recognize me, but they've got a warrant for your arrest. Actually"—his voice barely contained a chuckle—"two warrants. One for Brady and one for the captain." His hand tightened on Jamie's arm. "You've got to get away from here as q
uickly as possible."

  Jamie swore under his breath. "How did they link the priest with MacKenzie?" He'd known the disguise of Father Brady was useless. That's why he'd used it to kidnap the sheriff. But MacKenzie? I must be slipping!

  "The Negro woman. The wife of the man that was hanged. She gave your name and two others in an attempt to save him from the rope. Halifax was very grateful. He let her off with a lashing." John looked back toward the house. "There are at least a dozen soldiers out front and more inside. Don't try for your horse. Go across the field. I'll send someone with a mount for you."

  "Anything else?"

  "Wallace. But we already suspected that. He approached Tom Comegys and offered to carry part of their tobacco to Holland. Tom laughed in his face, then threatened to report him to the authorities. Halifax is being replaced."

  "When?"

  "As soon as the new man arrives from England. I gather his superiors are not pleased with his progress." There was a rustle of branches and the butler shifted nervously. "I may be able to learn more. Servants are invisible, you know."

  "You keep on this way and you'll be able to hire your own butler soon." Jamie threw his arms around the man and hugged him. "You're a good friend, John. I know how much you're risking."

  "No more than you." He cleared his throat. "You shouldn't have come, you know. She's not worth it." The contempt was plain in his tone.

  "What's between... between Lady Beauford and me is a private matter," Jamie said quietly. "I'll take no advice... even from a friend." The threat hung in the air between them. "Besides, I had to be sure Halifax was safely out of the way."

  "The transfer's tonight?"

  Jamie nodded. "This night's work will cost the Crown a pretty penny and save a lot of Eastern Shore planters from foreclosure."

  "Be gone with you. If they start to question Lord Beauford's guests, someone is sure to remember seeing you here tonight. Wait by the river for the horse."

  "You're certain Bennett didn't recognize you?"

  John scoffed. "Why should he? I was masked, and I didn't speak a word. In that fisherman's clothes I smelled like a refuse pit. Even my own mother wouldn't have known me." The scoff became a chuckle. "She had high standards. I doubt if she would approve of my occupation now."

  "I wish we could have held him until the fleet sailed. But..." Jamie shrugged. "It was worth it. Even the planters who don't do business with us will have good reason not to pass on information. It would make them very unpopular with their neighbors. Actually, I think Francis Bennett may prove to be an honest sheriff and a good man for the Tidewater. If I wasn't afraid of doing serious harm to him, we could have held him a little closer."

  The voices from the back of the boxwood garden came louder. John gripped Jamie's hand a last time, turned, and walked toward the house. Jamie waited until a man and woman appeared on the path and entered the back door of the house one at a time. Then he set off through the garden away from the manor house. He wished he'd worn more sensible footwear. It would be a long walk to the spot where he'd meet the boy with the horse.

  John reentered the library just as the first shots rang out from the garden. Charity screamed as Captain Halifax lunged for the door.

  "By God! What's going on here?" Harry demanded.

  Charity ran to the window.

  A second volley of shots followed the first. Charity covered her mouth with her hand and stared out into the garden. Men were running and shouting. Four soldiers rounded the corner of the house and ran down the path. Then shadows covered the moon, throwing the garden into darkness. Charity tried to open the window, but Beauford put a hand on her shoulder.

  "Go upstairs, Caroline. Look to your child," he ordered gruffly. "You're not a servant to be peering from windows. You'll be informed as soon as I know what's happened. It may be that the smugglers have been shot."

  She dashed from the room and up the steps, her eyes clouded with tears. Jamie! What if he'd been shot?

  Nan looked up as she entered her chambers. "What is it, my lady? Did you hear the shooting?" She held a squirming Kat in her arms. The baby wailed and kicked furiously. "What could it be?"

  Charity took the baby and motioned toward the door. "Go down and see what you can find out I'll stay with Kat. Let me know as soon as you hear." She laid the baby in her cradle. "Has she been fed?"

  "Yes, my lady. The girl just left. She said you'd given her leave to go to the dancin' in the barn." Nan's cheeks were bright with excitement. "Do you want me to go to the barn? The common folk will know what's up if anybody does."

  "Yes, go."

  Nan curtsied and hurried from the room. Charity set the cradle to rocking and went to the window and opened it a crack.

  Soldiers ran with torches to light the way for two more men carrying a third who seemed to be wounded. She heard Halifax's voice shouting commands. "...a physician. Brighton. You and Briggs check the stables. He can't get far."

  Charity sank to her knees and offered a prayer for his safety. "Hail Mary, full of grace..." Her lips moved in the ancient ritual even as her heart chilled to ice. "Protect him," she begged. It was Jamie they were chasing; she knew it. Why didn't he go when he had the chance? Why—

  "That's a pretty sight. How touching."

  Charity whirled to see a figure in the doorway. "Jamie!"

  He closed the door behind him and locked it. "Why don't you shout it out?" He held his leg as he came toward her. "Don't just stand there, damn it! Get me something to stop the bleeding." He reeled and caught the back of a chair for support.

  "Jamie, you shouldn't be here." She got to her feet and ran to him. "I told you not to—"

  "I didn't pick your bedchamber on purpose." He removed his hand and a dark stain spread down the white hose. "Get me a belt or a rope of some kind. I've got to make a tourniquet."

  "You've been shot." She began to rip bed linens into strips.

  "Bayoneted." Jamie sank into the chair and rubbed a hand across his face. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

  "Does it hurt bad?" Charity stripped down the hose to reveal an ugly gash that oozed dark blood.

  "No. It feels good!" he snapped. "Damn you, woman! Of course it hurts. It hurts like hell."

  "You can't stay here. They'll find you." Her hands were trembling as she wrapped the wound.

  "Afraid for your reputation?" he taunted.

  "You don't understand. Beauford..." Her voice trailed off. How could she make him understand? "He's... he's very jealous," she lied. "He'll think the worst of me."

  "Well, I certainly hate to inconvenience you." Jamie laughed wryly. "But it will be quite an inconvenience to me if they catch me at all. MacKenzie's not too popular here tonight." The cinnamon eyes darkened with pain. "Did you know they've got two warrants out for me?"

  She nodded. "I didn't tell them, Jamie." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I swear it. I didn't say a word." She caught his hand. It was streaked with his own blood. "You must believe me. Whatever else you think I've done wrong... you can't believe I'd want you dead."

  He took hold of her shoulders and pulled her close to his face. His eyes bored into her mercilessly, then his gaze dropped to rest on the plunging neckline of her green gown. "Having the baby didn't hurt your looks," he murmured. His hand slid up to cup her throat. "I don't know whether I want to kiss you or throttle you."

  Charity jerked free, retreating safely out of his reach. Her breathing quickened as she struggled for control. "No, Jamie," she pleaded. "I'm married. There can't be anything between us." Salt tears welled up in her eyes.

  "And just where did all this sudden morality come from?" He tried to rise, then fell back as a wave of agony knifed through him. The linen bandage turned from white to red. "Damn you, Charity. I wouldn't have come here if it wasn't for you. A kiss wouldn't be too much payment, would it? Considering what you've paid for all this." He waved to indicate the luxurious apartment.

  "What do you want from me?"

  "Nothing." He forced himself
to his feet, teeth clenched against the pain, and started for the door.

  "Don't," she protested. "They'll search the house. They'll find you. I can help. There's a—"

  The doorknob turned. "Caroline!" Harry rapped on the door. "Unlock it. It's me."

  "Just a minute, my lord. I'm coming," she answered.

  "What are you doing? Why is the door locked? Open it now!" He pounded on the door with the head of his walking stick. "Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine," she lied. "I'm... I'm on the pot, my lord." Charity's hand closed around a heavy silver candlestick. I hope you have a harder skull than the tanner. "I'm sorry, Jamie," she whispered.

  He turned in time to see the blow coming, but too late to avoid its result.

  * * *

  Jamie awoke in total darkness. His head felt as if it had been kicked by a horse. He moaned, fingers going to the lump on the back of his skull of their own volition. Where am I?

  He moved his limbs one at a time. His injured leg throbbed. Gingerly he touched the bandage. The blood was drying.

  His face was against raw wood; he felt the surface of the boards and tried to remember. Fingers touched something soft—his wig? Taking a deep breath, he sat up and reached out. He touched a brick wall on his right, nothing on his left. Where the hell am I? Bricks. A floor of some kind. Sounds coming... coming from another room? From the left?

  There was the heavy step of men's boots and the scrape of objects being moved. Jamie fought nausea. Waves of blackness threatened to drown him. Charity. Charity's apartments. She hit me. He swallowed hard. She hit me with a candlestick.

  "Nothing here, sir."

  "I told you there was no one here. Do you believe me a half-wit, Captain Halifax?" Charity's indignant voice. "Search for your smugglers in the woods or on the grounds. Not under my bed!"

  "We had only your own safety in mind, Lady Beauford. Lord Beauford told us that you wouldn't or couldn't unlock your chamber door. I thought—"