"Richard March destroyed any tender feelings I could have developed for him." She raised her hand to cut off Drina's interruption. "Mine was an arranged marriage. There was no love between us, so perhaps I was a fool to wish it otherwise, but I thought, I hoped, we could grow to have some regard for one another. Richard ensured that was not to be."
"Yet, the man is dead, Ellie," Drina said gently.
"Yes. He is dead. I will speak of him no more."
"You will allow hatred to color your future?"
Elspeth took a moment to examine herself. With truth she replied, "I harbor no hate for him, Drina. I am glad to be free of him, but I did not wish him dead."
Drina nodded, apparently satisfied.
"Still, an American has killed a peer of the realm. We shall issue a summons for the American ambassador to wait upon us."
"No, Drina."
It was Victoria, not Drina, who regarded her subject with shock. Elspeth forged on in spite of the Queen's displeasure.
"Hal saved my life. I ask you as my friend, Drina, let it go."
It obviously went against all Victoria's morals, but Drina relented. "All right, Ellie. I'll let it go. For you."
"Thank you, dearest."
"However," Drina said, her tone warning Elspeth a royal command was to come, "you know this only puts you back where you were before you married Sandgrove."
"What?"
"You will be pressured to marry again."
"You can't be serious."
A wry smile quirked Drina's lips. "Do you wish a period of mourning?"
"I'm not a hypocrite, Drina."
"Of course not, but it will be expected nonetheless. I can hold of the Lords for a year, but no longer. You should seek a suitable man and be ready to wed. Greymere needs an heir."
"The matter of an heir is settled." A fluttering in her stomach reminded Elspeth of her lasting reminder of her adventure and her champion. "I'm with child."
Blue eyes glistened with pleasure. "How marvelous. Sandgrove has an heir."
"No."
"Not Sandgrove's child?"
"No. Hal Merritt is the father of my child."
It was the first time she'd said the words aloud. How sad news which should be so joyous left her feeling so empty.
"And this is your real reason for not wishing to pursue your pirate for killing Sandgrove?"
"No. My motivation is that I love him. He's been hurt by the March family and I wish to let him find what peace he can."
"Well, in any case, you must marry quickly." Drina frowned. "Of course, there will be a terrible scandal..." She waved off her words. "But I'm confident some other scandal will come along to erase yours, especially if you're ensconced at Greymere."
"I won't marry, Drina." Elspeth reconsidered her words. "I will marry no one but Hal, who is clearly unacceptable."
"Unacceptable to whom?" Drina poured herself another cup of tea and sat back and sipped. "If the Queen accepts him, who can say otherwise?"
Elspeth could hardly believe what she thought she was hearing. "Say it plainly, ma'am. I am no mind reader."
"Many of our noble men are taking American wives. Sauce for the goose..." She punctuated her sentence with another sip, her blue eyes gazing off into the distance as though deep in thought. "I certainly wouldn't press you except your need is urgent."
Much as she wished it otherwise, Elspeth knew she could not hope for such a happy ending for herself.
"He doesn't want me. And I will not beg him for our child's sake."
Elspeth would have called her last words back. She'd just begun to think of her child as real, and her declaration sounded heartless to her own ears.
Drina, bless her, chose to ignore her last statement. "Does he not? It would appear you have evidence to the contrary."
Elspeth snorted a humorless chuckle. "Surely you are not so naive as to believe all babies are evidence of love."
"In my experience..." Her lips curved in an I've got a secret smile.
Elspeth smiled with true joy. "You are increasing?" She wrapped her friend in her arms and squeezed. At least someone's life was following a normal course. "Congratulations, dearest."
"Thank you. Now, back to you."
She shrugged. "Your happy news changes my situation not a whit. He left me on the governor's doorstep to make my own way back to England."
"Why?"
"I told you why. To take Richard's bloody scalp to his sister."
Drina raised her eyebrows at the word bloody, but as it was a literal truth, she didn't debate Elspeth's vocabulary. Instead, she pursed her lips, in a way Elspeth had seen many times when her friend wanted to get her own way.
"Was he not pledged to do this? Perhaps once the deed is done, the vow discharged as it were, he will be free to pursue other interests?"
"Interests? You make me sound no more than hounds or horses or business speculation."
"I apologize. I didn't mean to make you insignificant, Ellie. Yet men are strange creatures, especially if they believe themselves to be bound to a quest, to honor. Sandgrove wronged your Hal's sister. Your pirate had to do what he could to make it right." The Queen set her cup in its saucer. "I would have you happy, Ellie. You are my dearest friend and more than a sister. If this savage of yours is the man you want, go get him."
Elspeth could scarcely believe what she was hearing. Then a realization brought her a sense of hope. "I can, can't I?"
Drina smiled. "Of course. You are Countess Greymere. There is little you cannot do if you wish it, and are willing to accept the consequences of gossip and sniping. I can keep you from the cut direct, but there are those who will talk. I can also not force true acceptance of your husband's person. I can only influence the surface behavior. Sandgrove had many friends and Mr. Merritt may have to face them."
Elspeth waved off the whole subject. "Hal would never live in England. He has his own home and property."
"Would he have his child bear Richard March's name?"
"He doesn't know."
Drina was silent for a long time. "You know I had to propose to Albert?"
Elspeth nodded.
"It wasn't easy for me. Women like us, women who command power, must often do that which is not easy. Don't let pride or hurt feelings stand in the way of your chance at happiness. From the way you speak of this pirate, I see he has captured your heart." A smile lit Drina's oval face. "As Albert captured mine. Go, find him. Bind him to you." She leaned forward and took both Elspeth's hands between her own tiny ones. "Our children will grow up together and be best friends as we have been."
"You make it sound so easy. I don't even know where he is."
"You exercise your considerable talent and fortune on behalf of your people and your estates. Do the same for yourself."
Elspeth smiled, really smiled, for the first time in weeks. "Yes, Your Majesty. I shall do as you command."
When she left her friend, Elspeth decided to do more for herself than seek Hal out. There was still someone who wanted her dead. Some provision must be made on that account.
That thought gave her another idea. She didn't have to find Hal. She could make him come to her. His words at Greymere came back to her.
I am your servant, milady. If you ever have need of me, send word to the Lancaster docks. I will hear. I will come.
When she arrived back at her London town house, she wrote two letters. One to her solicitor, one for the harbor master in Lancaster.
Now she was ready to return to Greymere and face the man she sadly believed wanted her dead.
Chapter Twenty Eight
The woman-girl rocked on a thickly woven rag rug, her black hair curtaining her from the world. She rocked, incessantly rocked, back and forth, back and forth. Occasionally a low moan or hum escaped her lips. Otherwise she was silent.
Hal knelt beside her, holding his offering out to her. Mary rocked and stared at nothing, his grisly gift unnoticed in his hand. Still Hal couldn't let it go. He pulled the cloth back, exp
osing the crusty scalp.
"Mary," he whispered to her. "I killed him for you."
Mary rocked. Back and forth. Her unfocused eyes stared at nothing. Back and forth.
Hal sat back on his heels, his eyes straining for any sign of reaction on his sister's face. Gentle hands folded the cloth around Richard March's scalp, then took the thing from him.
"Come away, Hal. Let her be." His mother's voice joined her touch, urging him back to the land of the living. "I'll make you some food."
"I'm not hungry." Hal stood, but lay his hand against Mary's silky head, caressing her, knowing but still not accepting she was forever beyond their reach. "I thought it would make a difference. I thought I could reach her if I killed him."
"I know, son." Johanna Merritt encircled her son's waist and pulled him away from her daughter.
Such a waste. Perhaps now, she thought, he might build his own life and stop trying to put right an irreparable wrong.
"Sit and tell me," she said. "I will listen for her. Perhaps she will even hear us speaking of it and take whatever comfort she can find."
"It's not enough, Mother."
Hal's eyes glistened with unshed tears, breaking Johanna's heart anew. She said no more. There was nothing she could say to ease his heartache. Certainly the death of the man March wasn't enough. He had destroyed her daughter, but not given her the release of death. Her son had given his youth to revenge, waiting, planning, preparing, and finally seizing his chance when March had begun stealing the lives of other people and selling them into slavery.
No, it certainly wasn't enough, but Johanna knew in her broken heart, if her son was to live, the past had to be put aside.
"It can never be enough, Hal, for Mary cannot be restored to us. But you have done all you can." Johanna crossed the room to the table and sat down, her pace deliberately slow so her son would follow. "You have sent this evil man to God. Let God make things right now. It's time for you to move forward in your own path."
Hal shook his head. "I have no forward."
"If that is true, then Richard March has destroyed both my children." He didn't respond, but Johanna knew she'd scored a coup. "Tell me what happened, son. Let me listen to your victory over our enemy."
She could tell he didn't count it as a victory any longer. Without restoring Mary's mind, taking March's life as payment was hollow and empty. But she listened. And as he told his story, Johanna realized with a secret smile of irony where her son's future lay.
* * * *
Hal told her the story of his latest voyage, watching her face carefully when she allowed him to see it. She padded around the kitchen barefoot, a unique mixture of Indian and white woman with her plain gray gown and her hair pulled into a very respectable bun on the back of her head. She'd always seemed comfortable in both worlds.
Another sign of her adaptation, her Bible, lay open on the table where she'd been reading when he'd arrived. He glanced over and saw she was reading Proverbs again.
He smiled. He couldn't understand most of the book, and wished Solomon had just come out and said what he meant. Johanna told him he needed to digest the bits, consuming them to let the wisdom become part of his mind, as food became part of the body.
What was that? He saw her react to something he'd said and he reviewed his words.
Elspeth. He was telling her about going to abduct her from her home. It was nothing. She disapproved, that was all.
Much as he wanted to protect his mother from some of the things he'd done, he was more anxious to protect himself from her knowledge of how much he missed Elspeth.
Ellie.
He plowed ahead, selecting his words more carefully, taking his time and only telling her what was necessary.
"What happened to his woman?"
His woman. Richard March's woman. Elspeth. The words slid between his ribs and into his heart.
"She's in England, I suppose."
"You suppose? Don't you know?"
"I don't know where she is, Mother."
At least it wasn't a lie. He'd left Elspeth on the governor's doorstep and rushed home to present Mary with his prize.
What had she thought of her champion then?
He sighed, only serving to alert his mother to his pain. If Ellie hated him, it was all for the best. She could find a suitable husband who would help her with her responsibility and give her children to carry on her title.
Another knife dug into his chest. Suddenly he saw her lying naked and writhing in pleasure. Pleasure he had introduced her to. She had, for a small span of time, loved him, he was sure. And he could easily imagine that perfect body swelling with a child.
But not his child, he prayed. Even if their lovemaking had made a child, he wouldn't force himself on her. She would feel duty-bound, even though it would ruin her life, to bind herself to the father of her heir.
And a child she had would be assumed to be March's heir.
He dug his teeth into his lip to hold back the rage. March is dead, he reminded himself. And Elspeth was where she belonged.
It was better this way. When he killed March, he killed any feelings she had for him.
A plate piled high with johnny cakes dripping maple syrup appeared before him. A steaming mug of coffee joined it.
Johanna sat across from him, her fingers wrapped around her own mug.
"So, this woman, March's woman-"
She paused and Hal knew it was because he had jerked at her words.
Damn it. She was going to play soul physician again.
"What happened between you two?" she asked.
"Nothing."
He could tell she didn't believe him.
"What is she like? I imagine like most English women, she is pale and weak. English women are often stupid as well. Is she?"
He almost laughed. Elspeth stupid? Weak? She certainly wasn't pale. Her skin glowed like pearl, rosy under the moonlight. Not pale. Creamy.
"I gather she is not like other English women, then?" Johanna was smiling at him.
"I don't want to talk about her. Don't ask about her."
His mother narrowed her eyes. "Did you have her?"
There was no escape from her studying eyes and digging questions. "Yes."
"Was it for revenge?"
"No."
"You desired her."
It was no question. He didn't bother to answer. His mother fell silent, blessedly, and he ate, staring into his plate. She let him finish in peace, and he purposely made the pile of cakes last as long as possible.
When he'd devoured the last crumb, Johanna said, "Have you considered the possibility she may be carrying your child, a child who would be assumed to be March's heir?"
No. The word echoed inside his head, bouncing from side of his skull to the other. Yet... Hal ground his teeth together, forming a denial.
"There is no child."
"Did she have her courses before you left her?"
Ah, his so practical mother.
"How am I supposed to know that?"
"You say there is no child. How else can you know?"
"It doesn't matter."
The denial cut deep. There could be no child. He wouldn't count the possibility.
Johanna rose and leaned over the table.
"You have killed to no purpose, then. If her child carries March's name, he has won."
"Why do you keep saying there's a child? There could as easily be no child."
"But you don't know, do you?" Johanna pierced him with her gaze, too wise, too knowing. "Answer me."
"No. I don't know."
"So. You would use a woman and leave her? Are you no better than March?"
Her accusation seared his conscience, but the truth, the reason he knew Elspeth wasn't pining away for him, poured out in a flood of self-justification.
"Mother, she was there. She saw what I did." Hal found himself unable to bear his mother's gaze. Disappointment mingled with outrage. "She hates what I am."
"What
are you?"
He whirled on her. "I am a savage. A criminal. A half-breed who has lived for nothing but revenge for the past ten years and now has nothing to offer a woman like her."
"Ah, the truth at last."
He refused to give her the satisfaction of asking her to explain. Of course, she didn't need any request.
"It isn't her feelings you must battle, my son. Your own are more damning. You are ashamed of what you are?"
"No!" His denial of her charge echoed through the house. "I'm not. I am of the People. I am the grandson of a king."
Johanna stood straight and the disappointment disappeared from her eyes. Now, Hal thought he saw satisfaction and it grated him.
"You are of the People. She saw what you did? Good. She is on notice that no one will hurt any of yours and escape your wrath. She will have to live with that knowledge, and perhaps, feel protected by it."
It was true. He acted according to his nature, to the laws of his people, since the laws of the white man had been of no use. It didn't change his reasons for not going to find Elspeth, but it helped ease his burden.
"You are angry with me?" his mother asked.
"No."
"You are lying again. You think I take pleasure in tormenting you?"
"Of course not. You think you're helping me."
"Yes. I am helping you. You just said you have nothing to offer this woman. In that you are wrong. Do you care for her?"
"I love her."
Johanna's expression softened. "Then go to her."
"She doesn't want me."
"Did she say that to you?"
"She didn't have to. I saw her face."
"She saw another side of your nature, Hal. She may be more fortunate than she knows to have seen this side of you. And it is a savage we all-red, black, white-carry in our deepest heart. Even your very proper Englishwoman has a savage in her heart. Until she tells you she rejects you, until you hear the words from her mouth, that path will always beckon. It will haunt you for the rest of your life. You must know her feelings, no matter what the result."
He shook his head. He couldn't face Elspeth. Johanna, as he'd known already, wouldn't give up.
"Do not be afraid, son. If she rejects you, then you can close the door and travel another path, unless she is carrying your child. No matter what name he is given, if he is yours, he must know whose blood he carries. But that is for the future." She smiled and touched his face. "Now, you must try to make a family for him."
The Ladys Pirate Page 26
