“How delightfully odd,” I said.
She shrugged. “I thought all men wore black in England, or here, for parties and such.”
“My dear,” I said, as I patted her head on our way out the door, “that was during the Interregnum. Only the Protestants despise color.”
“And here the men merely seem to be sadly out of fashion,” Dupree added earnestly.
“Wait,” Agnes called after me. When I turned she quickly said, “Give my best to Christine if you see her.”
“I will,” I assured her. I hoped we would not see the girl: it would be a bit of awkwardness I wished to avoid.
We stepped out onto the street and encountered a carriage and Theodore. The vehicle’s driver informed us he had been sent to take us to the ferry landing, and then another carriage would take us to the Governor’s House after we crossed the Passage.
I looked to Gaston and sighed. Though we had made no arrangement to fetch our horses from the farm on which they whiled away their days, I had still expected to acquire mounts at the livery and enjoy a pleasant ride to Spanish Town. Though he did not voice it, he seemed to share my dismay.
His father was quite pleased at the governor’s thoughtfulness, though; and so we all climbed aboard for the bumpy ride through Port Royal’s rutted and uneven streets. Gaston and Striker took the outer seats of the front bench, leaving me to cram myself between them. Theodore, the Marquis and Dupree were similarly arranged on the other bench; but whereas I had been forced to take the middle, Lord Tervent had chosen it.
“You look like gentlemen,” Theodore remarked loudly over the rumble of wheels.
“I should hope so,” I said, as I tried to accustom myself to the unfamiliar sensation of riding in a carriage after so many years.
I glanced at my matelot, and found he seemed quite happy now that we were underway; and I supposed it was such a novelty for him he had no complaint, much as visiting the tailor’s had been. I hoped he would view the party in much the same light.
Though the carriage rides in and of themselves were not pleasant, they were not odious either. Unfortunately, the rumble of so many hooves and wheels, and the proximity of driver and footman, as well as the other passengers on the ferry, robbed us of any chance for conversation to make the journey pass quickly or allay my matelot’s addled thoughts. I was keenly aware that the Marquis would frown upon my taking Gaston’s hand to reassure him, and that dark thing settled into my heart to brew into anger, such that I was gripped by a foul mood once we reached the Governor’s. I kept a smile on my face, though.
They had apparently set watchmen with signal torches along our approach to the House itself, and once we pulled to a stop, we were greeted by musicians playing a regal-sounding march and a great deal of applause from the guests – seemingly all of Jamaica’s notable planters, merchants, captains, and their wives – gathered on the steps and about the yard such that we were surrounded by well over a hundred people. I was surprised at Modyford’s need for such pomp. The Marquis appeared to be quite pleased, and led the way out of the carriage with a gracious word and nod of approval for everyone his gaze met.
Gaston and I followed. I felt him reach for me as we began to walk through the throng of people to the doors. I stepped beyond his reach, making it seem as if I had stumbled a little, and laid a steadying hand on his arm. As he queried whether I was well, I leaned in to whisper, “I cannot hold your hand here,” in French. Anger immediately lit his eyes, burning away all trace of his apprehension. Once it was done, I was not sure if that was the best route to take, but it had been the only path I had seen readily available. He, of course, could unfortunately not mask his ire with a false smile with any degree of credibility, though he did try. I kept myself somewhat between him and all others, greeting them first with kind words and a boyish smile before moving quickly on toward the yawning doors of the house.
The Marquis halted our process on the lower steps. He stood there, smiling nobly at all assembled, and Dupree waved for silence. The music stopped and the crowd settled down to hear.
“I thank you all very much for this gracious reception,” he said with excellent projection so that all heard, but none could say he shouted. “As you might have heard…” He paused to grin. “I am the Marquis de Tervent. I am visiting your fair colony to see my son.” At this, he extended a hand to Gaston.
I swore silently with a smile fixed upon my lips and laid a hand on my matelot’s very stiff back and urged him forward as Dupree translated the words. “Smile and nod,” I hissed. Gaston went reluctantly; his face wearing a grimace that vaguely resembled a smile, and took his father’s hand.
“This is my son,” the Marquis said, once Gaston stood beside him. “The Comte de Montren.”
The words struck me like an unexpected blow to the stomach. I thought Gaston’s knees would buckle as he regarded his father with wonder.
I clapped: a sudden sound that brought Gaston’s startled eyes to me and prompted a round of applause that prevented the Marquis from saying anything else until I could join Gaston on the steps. And though those brief words had needed no translation for the discerning, Dupree was drowned out as well. Perhaps this would mitigate people wondering why the Marquis’ introduction of him had made his son appear a daft cow.
I stepped to my matelot’s side in the calm pool inside the surging ring of sound, and hissed, “Smile, it is much like taking a ship.”
He regarded me with a startled frown and then a weak smile quirked his lips.
Then I awarded his father a murderous glare.
The damn man blinked with surprise and then truly looked at his son. “Oh,” he said, and then turned to smile and wave for silence. A frown tightened his features as he chose his words, but then he was all teeth and good cheer as he spoke. “My son and I have been estranged for some years, and he has lived here among the buccaneers, where I understand he has made a name for himself.”
I managed not to wince at the irony of that, and there were appreciative snorts and mutters from the clump of captains. Others were regarding us with curiosity and furrowed brows, though; and there was the sibilance of whispers from behind fans and hands.
I glanced to Gaston and found his gaze fixed upon me. His face was composed, though.
“He has not used his title in many years,” the Marquis continued, “and my use of it tonight surprised him. I do not know if he wishes to be known as a nobleman among the Brethren, as I understand they are a very egalitarian lot, but I hope he will forgive the enthusiasm of an old man who is very proud to call him his own.”
I was very impressed, and I thanked the Gods for the Marquis’ quick wit and Rucker’s lecture of the other night.
Gaston took a long breath, and I could see a thousand thoughts thundering behind his eyes. I gave him a nod of reassurance. He turned to smile at his father and embrace him as Dupree finished translating. The crowd was quite pleased with this outcome.
We at last were able to continue up the steps to the doors, the throng parting before us and surging in behind.
“You are very, very good,” I told the Marquis in French as we walked close together with Gaston safely between us, my arm about his shoulders and his about my waist.
“I have been told I possess an excellent talent to respond well to my own mishaps,” he said with a grin.
I grinned in return. “So have I.”
Governor Modyford, of course, had to make his personal greeting and introduce the entire colony council, along with Admiral Morgan, Captain Collier of the Oxford – who proved to be a rather stiff figure in countenance and stance – and a blur of several notable planters, before we were at last able to get our backs to a wall and secure full wine goblets. During it, Striker had slipped away to be with the captains, and Theodore had been hauled away to meet with other guests.
Gaston had run the gauntlet very well: he said nothing and nodded, smiled, and bowed as was appropriate; though, I sensed he did all this by following our lead and could not have t
old one man or woman from another when all was done.
“I love you,” I leaned to him and whispered nonchalantly, as I sipped wine and smiled at another approaching couple.
“He has truly claimed me, Will,” Gaston whispered.
“Oui, that he has, and now you see what that has earned you,” I said lightly in French, and kissed the hand of an elderly plump matron in stays laced such that she could have rested her wobbly chin upon her doughy breasts with little effort.
“This room has many fine chandeliers,” Gaston said as he smiled pleasantly.
“Do we need to smoke?” I asked curiously, as most of what we had seen had not been a delight to gaze upon in the least.
“Non,” he said quickly. “I am averting my gaze in order to avoid seeing things I do not wish to see, not things I might find pleasurable to see.”
I laughed briefly and quickly sobered to accept the good wishes of Captain Norman of the Lilly. His wife was actually quite pretty, and very young. I made much of complimenting her dress, which delighted her and earned me a stern look from her husband. I frowned at him with bemusement and flicked my gaze to my matelot, and Norman appeared sheepish and sighed.
And then we were greeted by Sir Christopher Vines. He was as portly and perspiring as I had remembered him. A very tall, thin, sharp-faced, dark-haired woman was on his arm.
“My Lord Marsdale,” Sir Christopher said, “might I introduce my wife, Lady Mary Vines. And my dear, this is Lord Marsdale.”
The woman curtsied while studying me with narrowed eyes and a forced pleasant smile. “I have heard a great deal about you, my Lord,” she said.
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” I said. “This is Lord Tervent, and I believe you have met my… friend, the Comte de Montren, Gaston Sable.”
“Ah, aye,” Sir Christopher said to Gaston, “I did not recognize you, my Lord. And it is a great honor to meet you, Lord Tervent.”
The Marquis nodded and bowed appropriately, as he had with all the guests.
Then I heard Gaston’s sudden breath, and I turned to find the girl I had asked to marry: the girl who had run from us like a scared filly; the girl Gaston had deemed a formidable opponent; the girl who wished to lead nations and battles and we had taught to fence; the girl Agnes still adored; the girl Gaston had named the Brisket, after I had described her to him as a meal I would have gladly eaten if I were not full with him: Miss Christine Vines. She looked much as I had first seen her in this very room: lithe, long-limbed and lovely, her golden curls coiled atop her head with just a few strands accenting her swanlike neck, her décolletage displayed in a pretty embroidered blue gown that matched her eyes – such that I was sure Gaston would soon need to go to the veranda, as he had ever done when seeing her. I met her sardonic smirk with one of my own as I kissed her lazily-offered hand.
“It is good to see you again,” I said honestly in French – surprising myself, as I had not thought I wished to see her.
“I wish… we could speak,” she whispered ruefully in the same language and cast a glance at her parents, who were watching us quite anxiously. She smiled at Gaston – who was studying a chandelier – and spoke in a normal tone. “And it is good to see you, too, Lord Montren.” Then she stepped before the Marquis and curtsied. “I am honored to make your acquaintance, Lord Tervent.”
His eyebrows rose. “As I am charmed to make yours, I am sure. Your French is excellent, my dear.”
“My mother was French, and I have spent many years in Geneva, as well as in France,” Christine said.
“Why Geneva?” the Marquis asked.
“My aunt maintains a residence there. She is sister to the Duke of Verlain, as was my mother.”
This last was obviously a gouge at her step-mother, but the Marquis could not have cared less: he was fascinated. I was surprised, and then I remembered there was a reason I had courted her – beyond the obvious. According to Theodore, she had a lineage that could have proven suitable to my father. I had not known her uncle was a French duke, though. I wondered why the Devil her mother would have ever married Vines. I recalled Theodore saying she had married beneath her station, but by the Gods, Vines must have been a charming and dashing young man, or someone owed him a great deal. There must be quite a tale behind it.
And then the cold claws of another realization gripped me: my father was not the only one who might view her as sufficiently noble to marry a Lord’s son. I remembered that I had discovered her to be my formidable opponent, not Gaston’s.
“I know the Duke of Verlain,” the Marquis was saying, his eyes narrowed speculatively.
“Have you seen him of late, before you sailed here?” Christine asked, as if she had not noted his challenge – a thing I viewed with incredulity, as she had been trained by her aunt to negotiate a court. “In the last letter I received from my aunt, she spoke of him ailing.”
“Non,” the Marquis said. “I have heard he ails as well, though. I have not seen him in… five years, at least. I am not often at court, and when last I was, he had already taken ill. A matter of the heart, I am told.”
“Oui,” Christine said. “The physicians have said he suffers from an abundance of bile and it is affecting his heart.”
Gaston swore under his breath and then spoke. “That is absurd. If it is his heart, then it is his heart that ails. Bile has nothing to do with it. Is he fat?”
“Non, quite thin,” Christine said with a smirk. “It is said he often suffers from pains in his chest when he becomes angered or even climbs the stairs.”
“Then it is possible he should be bled,” Gaston said with annoyance. “Instead they are probably treating him with infusions or powders to reduce his bile.”
The Marquis regarded his son with dismay.
I chuckled and told him quietly, “We know her.”
This seemed to relieve him, and then he regarded me with curiosity.
“I asked her to marry me,” I said quietly. “She did not wish to be married, to me or anyone; so do not smirk about it.”
The Marquis did anyway, and with a snort of annoyance I turned to her parents.
“They are discussing her Uncle’s health,” I explained in English. “My…” I suppressed a curse and decided I would play that game no longer. “Matelot is a physician.”
Sir Christopher nodded absently and led me a little further away from Gaston and his daughter. His wife followed and he turned to her with a large smile. “My dear, perhaps you could find us some wine.”
“Of course, my dear,” she said, but I could see she was not pleased with being dismissed.
Once she was gone, he turned to me. “Well, as you see, we recovered her, and she is safe.”
“Aye,” I said. “However did you find her?”
“Well, as your… as Lord Montren and Mister Theodore were kind enough to inform me what ship she had booked passage on, as a boy…” He sighed as if that still troubled him and mopped his brow. “I was able to send word on several other ships sailing to the northern colonies. By God’s grace, one of them arrived at the Virginia colony before her vessel, and thus they were able to apprehend her when she arrived in port.”
“Ah,” I said, and imagined she had been quite angry: as she had not tipped her hand, but others had, namely us.
“You were correct,” he said. “She was afraid of the speed at which the matter was handled: she was not fleeing you, but the circumstances. She deeply regrets that she did not accept your offer.”
I nodded and kept the smile from my lips. I was sure she did regret it: we had offered her a great deal of freedom, and now she had none.
“But now… of course… you are married,” he said with a shrug. His gaze was earnest and assessing. “We have heard… a great deal about your bride.”
“I am sure everyone has,” I said with a shrug.
I knew what he wished to ask, and I was not sure if I wished to give it to him.
“I know I should not ask this,” he sighed at last, “but�
��”
“Will I put her out, and would I still consider your daughter?” I said for him.
“Oh, Lord,” he sighed. “Aye, aye.”
“In all honesty, Sir Christopher, I do not know. I am awaiting word from my father. He sent her, I married her to please him, and now…”
He looked away with a sad sigh and mopped his brow. “Aye, of course. You are a good son. It is just… I wish for her to be happy, and she has been so unhappy of late and… I do not see where I will find a good match for her now, not that she will likely accept any we find, and I will not have her marry against her will. I despair for her future. And, she does not like Mary, nor Mary her, and there is ever a silent war in my house, and it troubles me.”
I was reminded that Sir Christopher was a good father in his way. “If… such a thing were to come to pass, I would still consider your fine daughter,” I offered.
“Thank you, for that, my Lord,” he said somberly.
I looked to where Gaston and Christine were still talking, with the Marquis watching them with interest. Stupid words welled into my mouth, and I had to bite my lip to keep from saying them; but swallowing them made me queasy, as I felt they should not have existed at all, and thus were not a thing I wished to contain in my heart and soul.
Lady Mary returned with three goblets, and I happily accepted one. The wine did not wash the bad taste from my mouth, though.
“Is…” Lady Mary began tentatively, “is your friend, the Comte, married?”
And there it was. Sir Christopher looked at my matelot and his daughter with new eyes.
“Nay, he is not,” I said with a small smile. And then the stupid words rose again and I burped them forth like the bad air of a putrid meal. “And he is as fond of her as I. And his father might feel her lineage is sufficient.”
Lady Mary seemed quite pleased with this, and left us to go and listen to the other conversation, though I was sure she spoke no French.
Sir Christopher gave me a guilty look, and then his eyes narrowed. “Would… you have difficulty with... such a thing?”
“Nay,” I lied. “It could prove to be in the best interests of both parties.”
Treasure Page 20
