by Adele Clee
Heather sighed. “Well, Mary isn’t here.”
Many times since returning to London, Lillian had wished she could run away and start a new life, somewhere far from the spiteful sneers and knowing glances. “Perhaps she has left the island. Why stay when everyone believes she is dishonest?”
Ursula shook her head. “None of the men would ferry her to the mainland without his lordship’s consent.”
“Did someone not tell me that sailors are a suspicious lot? Does it not stand to reason the men want rid of her?”
“All of Mary’s belongings are here in the cottage,” Heather added. “When a woman has no husband to support her, why would she leave with just the clothes on her back? The candlestick alone would fetch enough to feed her for months.”
The comment resonated with Lillian. She had disappeared from Vauxhall without a trace. From her experience, one ran away of their own volition, or someone took them against their will.
“Then we must question the men and search the island.”
“If the men sense your distrust there could be a mutiny,” Ursula said. “It’s not my place to contradict you, my lady, but we should be certain she’s not on the island before we go accusing the men.”
Ursula was right. They should search the area, scour the coastline. Perhaps Mary had wandered too close to the crumbling cliff edge. Worse still, had the rumpus Heather spoke about driven Mary to abandon this life altogether?
“Shall I wait here, my lady?” Heather shuffled nervously. “If Mary returns it might save endless hours of searching.”
“Very well.” Should Mackenzie join them, Heather could inform him of their plans. “We shall go down to the dock and follow the coastline.”
“Maybe we should just go back to the castle, my lady.”
“We will, but it won’t hurt to have a quick look around.”
With Ursula in tow, Lillian left the cottage and followed the lane to the dirt track leading to the shore.
The dock consisted of a large timber warehouse, and a few old buildings made of the same slaty mudstone as the cottages. A high stone wall kept the rising tide from flooding the area. A group of men were busy working. One man sat splicing a line on the landing pier leading to the frigate that brought her to the island. One man climbed the rigging. A few more were hammering wood on the poop deck. They were all too engrossed in their work to notice two women sneaking past.
“We should check the buildings.” Lillian pointed to the warehouse. The wooden door stood ajar. “Mary might have wandered in there.” It was highly unlikely.
Ursula nodded. She moved stealthily as if trying not to draw the men's attention. Peering inside, they found nothing but crates and barrels stacked neatly against the wall.
Lillian sighed. “I doubt Mary had a reason to come in here.”
They moved to the stone buildings and found them locked.
“Mackenzie and Lord Ravenscroft are the only ones with a key.” Ursula glanced back over her shoulder. “We should go back and stroll along the clifftop. When Mackenzie arrives, he can unlock these doors. It’s best he speaks to the men.”
Fear flashed in Ursula’s eyes. Did she think the men had something to do with Mary’s disappearance? Overcome by a sudden sense of foreboding, Lillian thought it best to return with Fabian or Mackenzie.
“We’ll walk along the shore for a while.” Lillian gestured to the path leading down to the beach. The first drop of rain landed on her cheek, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. “If there’s no sign of her we will return to the castle.”
“What about trying the path north?”
Lillian considered Ursula’s suggestion. “It’s too far out of our way. Mackenzie can round up the men and conduct a thorough search once the weather improves. We’ll head south.”
With some reluctance, Ursula followed, her anxious gaze moving from the dark clouds looming overhead to the dock disappearing into the distance.
The tide ebbed, though their feet still squelched in the wet sand. Soon one drop of rain became two and three. An angry roar from the heavens gave them pause, and Lillian considered turning back.
“It looks like it will be one almighty storm.” Ursula did not hide her apprehension.
“If we keep walking where will it take us?” Lillian quickened her pace. The gathering wind roared in her ears, and she had to repeat the question as Ursula failed to reply.
“To … to the castle.”
“Then is it not better to continue on our way?” Lillian clutched the hood of her cloak as a gale-force wind threatened to tear the clothes off her back. Without warning the shower turned into a torrential downpour. The gulls swooped and darted. Visibility diminished in seconds.
“Quick, my lady, we should turn back.”
“It’s too late.”
They blinked to keep the rain from their lashes, held their arms out in front of them to maintain their balance. They moved closer to the cliff-face, to the cluster of rocks littering the beach.
“We should keep moving,” Ursula shouted.
“No. We’ll take shelter here. I’ll use my cloak to shield us until the storm passes.”
The rocks were rough and jagged, in varying hues of grey, and covered in barnacles. Lillian rushed behind them and was about to untie her cloak when she saw the narrow entrance to a cave.
Relief coursed through her.
“Quick, Ursula, I’ve found shelter. Hurry!”
Ursula stood on the beach, frozen to the spot. Was she afraid of being buried beneath a landslide? Did she know of the cave but had an irrational fear of the dark?
Lillian clambered over the scattering of giant stones. The entrance was nothing but a black mouth leading to heaven knows where. A pang in her stomach caused her to hesitate. But the inclement weather forced her inside.
She waited for Ursula, but the smell of smoke drew her attention to the cavernous space behind. Someone was in the cave. Unable to see the orange glow of a fire, she placed her hands on the damp wall and shuffled deeper inside.
What if Mary had sought sanctuary?
What if she needed a place to hide from the men?
“Mary?” Lillian continued through the puddles of stagnant water. Surely the woman wouldn’t take refuge in a cave that flooded during high tide. “Mary, are you in here?”
The smell of smoke grew stronger, and Lillian noticed the faint amber light warming the rock face. The crack and pop of burning wood reached her ears. She turned right into a recess, saw the black pot hanging from a tripod over the campfire. A figure lay curled up into a ball on the ground.
Lillian rushed over and crouched down. One look at the fiery red locks and she knew she’d found Mary.
“Mary, can you hear me?” Lillian gripped the woman’s arm and shook her. “Wake up.”
Mary stirred. She raised her head off the ground and peered at Lillian through half-closed eyes. “Lady Ravenscroft? Is it really you?”
“Are you hurt?”
Confusion marred the woman’s brow. She blinked rapidly and tried to sit up. “You shouldn’t be in here,” Mary whispered, fear evident in her tone. “Go. You must go quickly before he comes back. Find Lord Ravenscroft. Go now.”
Only when Mary gestured to the cave mouth did Lillian notice the rope binding the woman’s hands. “Who did this to you? Was it one of the men?”
“There’s no time. You must leave.”
“But I cannot abandon you here.”
A firm hand gripped Lillian’s shoulder. “There you are, my lady.” Ursula’s voice brought instant relief until Mary’s eyes almost bulged from their sockets.
“Oh, Lord, no!” Mary cried. “Run, my lady. Leave now before it’s too late.”
“Ain’t no one leaving here without my permission.” A man’s hoarse voice pierced the air. “Ain’t no one doing anything unless I say so.”
Lillian swung around but could see no one in the gloom. “Who’s there? Show yourself.” She grabbed Ursula’s arm
and drew her closer. “Who are you?”
A low chuckle echoed through the cavernous chamber. “Why don’t you ask your maid? Ask the snake you’ve taken to your bosom.”
Lillian’s head shot to Mary. But when the woman met her gaze, she saw nothing but truth and honesty there. Instinct forced her to turn to Ursula. “You’re the one who stole into my bedchamber. You’re the one acting as a traitor’s eyes and ears.”
Ursula stepped back. Panic marred her pretty face. “It wasn’t meant to be like this. We need to find the treasure that’s all.”
“Treasure!” Mary shook her head. “If the Spanish had left anything here they would have returned to claim it years ago. Without a map, it would take months to search the island.”
“There is a map,” Ursula countered. “It’s hidden somewhere in the castle.”
Mary snorted. “Don’t listen to her, my lady. Fools and dreamers, that’s what they are. They’ve spent too much time listening to the drunks in Branscombe.”
The thud of booted footsteps preceded the figure appearing from the dark tunnel opposite. This strange-looking man was not one of Fabian’s crew. No one would fail to notice this rogue in a crowd. Even in the dim cave, his bald head shone like polished silver. Two bushy brows met in the middle to form a frown.
“Mary’s right,” he snapped. “I’ve men chasing my heels. I don’t have time to waste.” He stepped closer, and Mary shuffled back. “I always knew Ursula was my good luck charm, and now she’s brought the answer to my prayers.” He jerked his head at Ursula, and she hurried to his side like an obedient pet.
“What do we do now?” Ursula asked. “Is it not best we leave?”
“Why leave when you’ve brought me a bounty?”
Ursula grimaced. The maid had tried her utmost to deter Lillian from walking along this stretch of coastline. Clearly, she worked for this man but did so begrudgingly.
“No,” he continued. “You’ll go to the castle and deliver a message. Five hundred sovereigns and a rowboat will secure her ladyship’s release. Tell his lordship to bring the goods north of the dock, near Blackfriars’ cove, at nine. Before the high tide.”
“What about me?” Ursula gulped. “You promised me money, enough to start a new life.”
His thin lips curved down into a permanent scowl which made it impossible to read his reaction. “You’ll get your reward. Have no fear.” He grabbed Ursula around the waist and kissed her roughly on the mouth. “The money will pay our passage to Jamaica. From there, we’ll buy a share in a plantation.”
“And what about me?” Mary said. “Would you leave your wife alone and destitute and take up with a strumpet?”
Lillian suppressed a gasp. So this was Doyle.
“Why do you care? Everyone knows you carry a torch for Mackenzie.”
“Maybe that’s because he’s the kindest most honest man I know.”
Lillian watched the exchange. Did Doyle really think Fabian and Vane would hand over the money and watch him sail away? Heaven help the blackguard should Mackenzie get his hands on him.
“And what if Lord Ravenscroft cannot pay?” Lillian had to ask. They were miles from the mainland, further still from a bank.
Doyle winked and tapped his nose. “The Raven keeps a stash of loot locked away in the castle.”
“What if he won’t pay?”
“Ursula says the man’s mind turns to mush when you’re around. Besides, what’s five hundred sovereigns when he’s worth a king’s ransom?”
Pride flooded Lillian’s chest. Hard work and determination had brought Fabian from the brink of bankruptcy to a position of comfort and wealth. Not that it mattered to her. She loved him regardless.
The thought caught her off guard — stole her breath. She loved him. She felt the truth of it deep in her bones but had no time to examine her feelings further.
Lillian straightened her shoulders. “And how do you propose to make the exchange.”
“You’ll come in the boat with us. Once we’re a few hundred yards out to sea, you can swim to the shore.”
“And what if I can’t swim?” Vane had made sure she could swim a mile in her clothes.
“Then you’ll drown.” Doyle picked up a length of rope and came towards her. “Now, your ladyship, turn around so I can bind your hands. I wouldn’t want to leave you free to scratch my eyes out.”
“Had I a blade to hand, I would do a damn sight more than that.”
Doyle chuckled. “Ursula said you were a feisty one.” He spun her around and tied her hands behind her back. She could have kicked him and tried to run, but she would not get far. As Doyle turned her back to face him, his greedy eyes settled on her locket. “What’s this?”
“Touch it at your peril.” The words were hard and unforgiving, yet inside, fear sucked the air from her lungs.
“A lady of your worth could buy a hundred more.” Doyle wrapped his thick, chubby fingers around the chain and tugged. The fine links snapped. The chain slipped from her neck. For a second, her heart stopped beating.
“Give it back to me. It is worthless to you.” Lillian held back the tears.
“Worthless? Nothing is worthless to a man with an empty belly.” Doyle shoved the locket into his trouser pocket, and Lillian knew she would not rest until the locket was back in her possession. “Now sit down and keep your mouth shut.” Doyle pushed her to the ground next to Mary.
“I’m sorry, my lady,” Mary whispered. “It’s my fault. If only I’d kept to my own business instead of snooping around the heathland at night. But I wanted to help Mackenzie.”
“You have done nothing wrong.” Lillian shot daggers at the blackguard as he took Ursula aside and repeated the instructions. “But mark my words. They will both pay for what they’ve done.”
Chapter Eighteen
“God damn it!” Vane dabbed the poultice on his swollen knuckles and winced. “What the hell has your housekeeper put in this? It smells like rotten intestines.”
“It’s a concoction of herbs and oats.” Fabian bit back a chuckle. “We’re to have the intestines for supper. Pirates believe they’re a delicacy.”
“Well, if anyone should know it is you.”
Fabian poured two glasses of brandy. He pushed one across the wooden table to Vane, took the other and sat on the bench opposite.
“Is that any way to speak to one’s brother?”
Vane stared down his nose and growled. “You’re not my brother but merely the fool who stole my sister away and somehow persuaded her to marry you.” He gulped a mouthful of brandy and hissed to calm the heat in his throat.
“Had you the decency to offer your assistance in my search for Estelle, we would not be sitting here.” The comment caused Fabian’s chest to constrict. A life without Lillian would be a miserable one indeed.
“So let me understand you. It is my fault you kidnapped an innocent woman. It is my fault your sister ran away and drowned when The Torrens sank.” Vane paused and closed his eyes briefly before releasing a weary sigh. “Everything is my fault.”
A heavy silence hung in the air.
“You should have gone after her.” Hell, he should have done something. “Estelle loved you, and you turned your back on her the moment things became difficult.”
Vane’s penetrating gaze spoke of a cold, merciless anger. “And you think you have the full measure of the situation?”
“What other explanation is there?”
“Perhaps I am the one who was overlooked.” Pain flashed across the cool marble planes of Vane’s face and vanished with one quick shake of the head. “From my investigation, it seems Estelle met another gentleman in Dover. Together, they sailed away to France to start a new life.”
“You’re lying.” Fabian’s pulse pounded in his neck. “Estelle cared for no one but you.”
“What the hell have I got to gain by lying? I have nothing to prove to you. I’m going to kill you, anyway.”
“And make your sister a widow? I think not
.” Fabian drained the contents of his glass and refilled it from the decanter. “Besides, regardless of what you may think, my sister is alive.” Nothing would convince him otherwise.
Vane sucked in a breath. “Then why waste time kidnapping my sister when you should be out looking for your own?”
A stabbing pain in Fabian’s chest forced him to jump up off the bench. Resting his weight on his knuckles, he leant across the table. “I have scoured the streets of London and Paris. I have knocked on doors, harassed strangers in the street. I have followed women, imagining they were her. My eyes convince me I see her ebony hair and kind face, only for my head to berate me for being a blind fool.”
“You do not have to tell me what that is like.” Vane’s hard tone sliced through the air. “But I will never forgive you for using Lillian.”
“For using her? I love her, damn it!” Fabian dropped onto the bench. The love he spoke of filled his heart. “She is the only woman I have ever wanted.” It was a love nurtured long ago, a treasure buried beneath bitterness and grief.
Vane stared at him. “You think you’re the only man ever to feel that way?” A cynical snort escaped. “It doesn’t change the fact that what you did was wrong.”
“It was.” Fabian could not deny he’d acted foolishly. “Wrong and damnably selfish. But I was not thinking clearly at the time.”
“And are you thinking clearly now?”
Fabian considered the question. His love for Lillian lived in his heart and soul, not in his head. It was a pure and genuine emotion. “I would die for her. As long as I live and breathe, no one will dare hurt her again.”
Vane frowned. His intense gaze searched Fabian’s face. “Lillian has told you about that devil of a rogue Martin?”
“She has.”
“Has she told you about our time in Italy?” Vane spoke slowly and with reservation.
Fabian placed his hand at the base of his throat. He could almost feel Lillian’s pain. “I know whose likeness she keeps close to her heart.”
