The Duke's Lady (Historical Romance - The Ladies Series)

by Jernigan, Brenda

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Jewel entered their bedroom at Four Oaks to find Adam’s bag open on the bed. “What are you doing?”

  “Packing.”

  “I can see that, but why?” Surprised at the panic that attacked her, she added, “Where are you going?”

  He studied her for a long moment, and her heart plummeted. He was leaving her. Somehow he’d found out she had regained her memory and had been deceiving him the whole time.

  “Sit down. We need to talk.”

  She didn’t like the sound of that statement. Yet he didn’t appear angry. She moved on shaky legs toward the bed. What was she going to do? What would she say?

  Adam cleared his throat. “I need to tell you something, but you must promise not to repeat what I say.”

  Her panic eased a little. “All right.”

  “Since I’ve moved to Four Oaks, I’ve come to love my mother’s country. And because I believe in the United States, I’ve had a secret mission over the last two years. Helping to gather information for Andrew Jackson.”

  She experienced a gamut of perplexing emotions. “You’re a spy. But you’re English!” Then she remembered he wouldn’t have been in England at all if it hadn’t been for his grandfather’s death. Adam had told her so himself. Hadn’t he mentioned to Annie he couldn’t wait to get back to America? “Do you really think there will be a war?” Jewel asked as she watched Adam place two shirts in his valise.

  “I’m afraid so. And if there is a war, I will fight.”

  “But it’s dangerous!” Jewel jumped up and put her arms around Adam, hugging him to her. “Must you?”

  “Yes, sweetheart. But remember, I’m fighting for you, Four Oaks, and most important, freedom to sail the seas without England’s interference.” He watched her slowly look up at him. He would hate leaving her, Adam thought as he stared at her soft brown eyes. Funny, he’d never believed he’d have a wife when it came time to fight.

  “Will it be soon?”

  “I’m not sure. I think we have some time.” He let her go, then turned back to the bag. “That is one of the reasons I’m going to talk with General Jackson.” Adam buckled the straps of his bag.

  “Promise me you’ll be careful,” she said.

  He smiled, touched by her fear for him. She didn’t want him to go. He knew she didn’t understand what this war was really about, and they hadn’t settled down as man and wife yet, but when this war ended things would be different. She wouldn’t be able to get him away from her.

  He lovingly tipped her chin up and placed a tender kiss on her forehead. “I promise,” he whispered, then turned his back, stepping lightly across the room and out the door. Even though Adam had explained his trip to see General Jackson, he hadn’t bothered to tell Jewel about his friend Lafitte. How could one explain being friends with a pirate?

  Derek met Adam as he boarded the ship. “You ready to sail, son?”

  “Set our course for Barataria Bay, and holler if you need any help navigating.” Adam chuckled as he went below to stow his gear, hearing Derek swearing in the salty language he knew best.

  Adam pulled out a map. Barataria Bay lay between Bayou La Fourche and the river. The ten-foot-deep channel extended for seventy miles directly north toward New Orleans. After that, it broke into a series of bayous and swamps. He smiled. His friend had known what he was doing when he’d set up his camp. It was an aquatic wilderness made up of quaking prairies, cypress swamps, and twisting waterways. Most people couldn’t navigate the hazardous region; therefore, the pirates had a safe haven.

  Derek wound the ship through the twisted bayous, being very careful not to run aground. At last, they sailed into Barataria Bay, commonly known as Jean Lafitte’s Bay.

  As they rounded the point into the crystal blue water, Adam saw Jean, arms folded, waiting on the end of the pier. Evidently, the lookouts had spotted their ship long before it had neared the hideout.

  “Welcome!” Jean shouted from the shore. He watched as Adam launched the dingy from the larger ship and rowed to the pier. “My friend the duke,” Jean said with a laugh, knowing how Adam hated to have his title used here in America.

  “Jean the notorious pirate,” Adam grunted back at him.

  “Come.” Jean motioned in the direction of his house. “Let’s go and find someplace where we can relax, my friend.”

  Adam had always admired Lafitte. His home wasn’t a shack, but a large plantation house sitting high on a hill where Jean could watch every ship that sailed into his bay. They entered a huge den made light and airy with white cushioned furniture and bright green tropical plants. It wasn’t what you’d expect of a pirate; however, it was a place where one could throw up one’s feet and lounge without being disturbed.

  “Where is Pierre?”

  “He sailed about a week ago. I expect him back next Friday.”

  “Somehow, Jean, you look older.” Strain lines etched the swarthy skin around Jean’s eyes, and he looked very tired. This wasn’t the happy-go-lucky pirate Adam was used to seeing. “Is something wrong?”

  “It shows, does it?” Jean took a swig of rum before continuing. “Ah, this rum somehow takes away the pain and makes me forget, if only for a moment,” he mused.

  “Forget what?”

  “My niece,” Jean said. “I lost her.”

  After waiting for Jean to elaborate, which he didn’t, Adam asked, “What niece?”

  “Pierre and I raised my sister’s girl.”

  “Where did your keep her—New Orleans?”

  “No, my friend. We raised her here.”

  “Why have I never heard you speak of her before?”

  “Except for my men who live on the island, no one knew of her existence.”

  “I see.”

  “No offense, my friend, but we felt she was safer this way.”

  “So, what happened? Did she die?”

  “No, I don’t think so . . . perhaps I should explain. As I said, I raised my niece from a small girl.” Jean paused, and the tensing of his jaw betrayed his deep frustrations. “She is now a woman, but little did I know my gang of thieves were teaching her to sail.” Jean finished the rest of his rum. “To make a long story short, she went out on a ship that was seized and never returned.”

  “That’s too bad. Do you know who attacked her?”

  “No, and yes. I know it was an Englishman—no offense to you, my friend.” Jean lifted his glass in salute.

  “None taken, but what makes you think she’s alive?”

  Jean put a hand over his heart, patting it gently. “I’d know in here if she were dead.” He grew quiet for a few moments. “The thought of her coming to harm tears at my gut.”

  Jean’s face twisted in pain, yet there was an unmasked question in his eyes. “I haven’t heard of anything,” Adam said. “But then, of course, I’ve been in England. I’ll keep my ears and eyes open for you. It would help if you knew the captain’s name.”

  “I’ve one of my men down at the docks. He happened to be on her ship. As a matter of fact, to my knowledge, he was the only survivor. He’ll recognize the bloke should he dare set foot on American soil.” Hatred blazed in Jean’s eyes. “God help him if he does!” Then he seemed to struggle as he regained his composure. “Let us talk about something more pleasant.” He changed the subject. “I hear you’ve gotten married.”

  “I did, and to a very vivacious young lady. Jean, you wouldn’t believe her. She’s a rare jewel.” Adam’s grin spread across his face. “She’s spirited and can handle a sword better than most men.”

  “Strange. I taught my niece to fence. She was quite good, too.”

  “Maybe one day they can meet each other. That is, after you find your niece.”

  Jean laughed. “I see you have finally found someone to tame you. I never thought I’d see the sparkle of love in your eyes, my friend. Your lady sounds like a handful.”

  “Well, it’s not that bad.” Adam chuckled at Lafitte’s absurd observ
ation. “Perhaps you can meet her soon.”

  “Do you think she would approve of a privateer?” Jean grinned.

  Adam contemplated that for a minute. He wasn’t sure, but gave Jewel the benefit of the doubt. “Of course. She isn’t uppity like most of society’s ladies.”

  “Then I’d consider it an honor.” Jean raised his glass again in a salute. “Now tell me the reason for this unexpected visit.” Jean looked pointedly at Adam. “Not that I’m not glad to see you.”

  “I’ve come to warn you about an impending visit.”

  “Visit? Sounds interesting.” Jean stood. “Can I get you another drink before we start?”

  Adam nodded. “When I was in England, I had the privilege of hearing some pretty interesting information. It seems the British Army is going to try and recruit you.”

  “Surely you pull my leg, my friend. Do you think we’re headed for war?” Jean asked with grave look.

  Adam nodded. “Yes, I do. That is the reason the British need your services. It would really put a notch in our defense to lose you and your men!”

  “Then I look forward to their visit.” Jean shook his head in utter disbelief. “But rest assured that my loyalties lie with the Americans. Have no doubt.” Jean frowned. “Perhaps when I offer my services this time, Clairborne won’t turn up his nose.”

  “They are a biased lot, I admit. But have no fear. As the time draws closer, they’ll see the error of their ways.”

  After a pleasant dinner with the finest wine, Adam returned to his ship, bidding Jean good-bye until the next time.

  “How did it go?” Derek inquired once Adam boarded.

  “Fine. Jean is a good man. He’ll let us know when the British contact him,” Adam informed him.

  “Where to now, son?”

  “Back to New Orleans.”

  “I thought you were going to see General Jackson.” Derek looked puzzled.

  “I am, but first I need to meet a friend who should be arriving tomorrow.” Adam started unbuttoning his shirt as he moved about the cabin. “My friend has decided to help in our fight, and will be traveling with me to meet Jackson.”

  “Anyone I know?”

  Adam chuckled. “You’re not going to believe it.”

  “Who?”

  “Jonathan.”

  Derek slapped Adam on the back. “How in the hell did you ever accomplish that?”

  “I’m not sure.” Adam smiled as he pictured his old friend. “Perhaps he’s just bored doing nothing with his life. Jonathan was a big help in gathering information when I was in England.”

  “I look forward to seeing him myself.” Derek stood, stretching. “I’m kind of tired. I think I’ll call it a night. We’ll sail at daybreak.”

  “Good night, Derek.”

  Adam saw Jonathan’s head above the group preparing to disembark from the ship. Adam didn’t know why he enjoyed his friend’s company so much, especially when he could be such a pain in the neck. But he had missed him, and was glad Jonathan had written word that he was coming to America.

  Jonathan walked casually toward him, his ever-present lopsided grin evident. He had almost reached Adam when he hollered, “Where is Jewel?”

  Adam shook his hand. “Wait a minute! Did you come to see me or my wife?”

  “Actually, I came to make sure you were taking good care of your wife.” Jonathan chuckled, always the demon.

  “I should be jealous,” Adam said as they walked to where their horses were tied. “You wouldn’t try to take her . . . would you?”

  “Egads, ol chap! I’m truly insulted.” Jonathan grinned. “Besides, you’re my best friend . . . and also a better shot than I am. What about my bags?” Jonathan asked.

  “Don’t worry. I’ve instructed one of my men to pick up your luggage and store it on my ship until we return. I thought, if it was all right with you, we would start out now, so we can make some traveling time before nightfall.”

  “After you, old boy.”

  The country sprawled between rivers and swamps as they made their way to Mobile. Low marshlands sucked at the horse’s hooves as they rode, making their progress slower than normal. The heat and humidity soon took their toll on Jonathan, forcing him to discard his coat.

  “Is it always this bloody hot?” Jonathan complained, wiping his brow.

  Adam smiled. “I’m afraid so, especially this time of the year. It can get rather sultry, but you’ll get used to it, just as soon as that English blood thins out.”

  “Very funny.” Jonathan frowned. “While we’re riding, tell me something about this famous general of yours. What kind of man is Jackson?”

  Adam rubbed his chin. “That’s hard to say. Let me see, what words should I use to describe him? How about obstinate? Yes, that’s a good word. Obstinate with a vindictiveness toward his enemy that you wouldn’t believe.”

  “Sounds like a real nice fellow, but should I trust my life to him?” Jonathan asked.

  “Wait. Let me finish. The general’s character is complex. He is a man of honor, courage, and above all things, a man who does not give his word lightly. And Jackson is honest, a true man of his word. However, he has a hair-trigger temper, especially to those who would utter slurs against himself or anyone he loves. If you think I have fought many duels, it’s nothing compared to Jackson.”

  “You mean his temper is worse than yours?” Jonathan shook his head. “No, impossible!”

  “Let’s just say his temper is equal to mine.” Adam raised an eyebrow at Jonathan’s smart remark. “I’ll give you an example. Jackson was at a convivial gathering. A gentleman by the name of Dickinson made a snide remark about the unconventionality of Rachel Jackson’s marriage. By the way, Rachel is Andrew’s wife. He heard this remark and warned Dickinson’s father-in-law to restrain his son-in-law. But the offense was repeated. After some newspaper exchanges, Dickinson sent a card to a Nashville paper, the last paragraph of which stated that ‘the Major General Jackson ... is a worthless scoundrel, a poltroon, and coward.’ ”

  “The man must have been a fool,” Jonathan said, “if what you just told me is true.”

  “He was, but at that time I’m sure he didn’t think so. Jackson at once challenged him, and of course, Dickinson accepted.”

  “I understand why he challenged him to a duel. You would have done the same. But what was so unconventional about Jackson’s marriage?”

  “That’s another story, but seeing as we have a long ride ahead of us, I’ve plenty of time to tell you,” Adam said, then continued with his story. “Rachel was married to a man named Robards before she married Jackson. Robards obtained a divorce through an act of the Virginia General Assembly. That’s when Jackson married her. But what they didn’t know was Robards had asked for and received only an enabling act, whereby if he could show cause, the marriage would be dissolved. It had to be printed in the newspaper and run for eight weeks consecutively. But Robards failed to do this for two years. Therefore, Rachel had been living in adultery with Jackson.”

  “I guess that’s what you would call an unconventional marriage. What did Jackson do?”

  “Jackson later went through the marriage ceremony again, but the scandal hung over their heads—and still does, he told me.” Adam pulled out his canteen and offered Jonathan a drink. “Damn, it’s hot today.”

  After Jonathan took a drink he said, “Interesting story, my friend. What happened after the challenge was made? I hope he blew the bloke’s head off.”

  “At dawn, I think it was the month of May, Jackson faced his antagonist with pistols at twelve paces. Dickinson was known to be an expert shot, and Jackson was of a lesser skill. Jackson told me he knew he would be hit, perhaps mortally, but Dickinson had slandered his wife, and Jackson wouldn’t back down.”

  “Neither would you,” Jonathan commented. “But then, I’ve never seen a man who could even hold a candle to your marksmanship.”

  Adam laughed. “Thank you for that small token of praise. Now back to
the story. One of his aides told me what happened. He said at the signal there was an instantaneous puff of smoke from Dickinson’s pistol and Jackson felt a heavy shock in his side. He swayed momentarily, then straightened. The aide said there was a look of horror on Dickinson’s face as he cried, ‘Great God, have I missed him?’ Dickinson recoiled a step, but resumed the mark upon the referee’s order. Jackson raised his pistol and pulled the trigger. The hammer stopped at half-cock. Jackson remorselessly drew back the hammer and this time the gun fired, and Dickinson died that night.”

  “Was Jackson hurt?”

  “He told me himself that he could feel the blood running from his wound down into his boot, but he mounted his horse and rode forty miles back to Nashville.”

  “I must say he doesn’t sound like your ordinary man.” Jonathan shook his head. “I can see why you like him.”

  The campground was dotted with white canvas tents like mushrooms on a forest floor. They rode between the rows of canvas, heading for Jackson’s command post. A total of five regiments were camped here, just a little over two thousand men. It was midday, and most of the men hung around their tents, eating lunch or cleaning their rifles.

  Adam and Jonathan stopped in front of Jackson’s headquarters. Dismounting, they handed the reins to one of the general’s aides and entered the tent.

  General Jackson sat behind his desk, shoulders bent, looking at a map. Jonathan thought he didn’t look as impressive as he had imagined from Adam’s fabulous stories. Jackson’s homely face tilted up, and Jonathan could see a scar running the length of one cheek. Probably another good story went with that scar. Jackson’s voice, as he spoke to Adam, was not deep and bellowed, but high-pitched. Then the general turned, and Jonathan felt his eyes scrutinizing him. Jackson’s eyes were a brilliant steel-blue, his look piercing as he searched Jonathan’s face, trying to sum up what kind of man he was.

  “Mr. Hird, it’s a pleasure to have you join us. Adam has spoken often about you.” Jackson extended his hand.