by Janet Woods
He grimaced as he examined the shackles hobbling a slave’s ankles. He nodded to Edmund, who handed him a mallet and chisel. It took but a few moment to break the chains.
The pregnant girl’s eyes filled with tears when she found she could move about unfettered. The men stood huddled together, tall and quiet, full of tension, their faces closed and secretive.
Saville thought the girl looked far too young to be a mother and addressed her directly. ‘When is your infant due?’
The girl shrugged and hung her head.
The other female was a little older. Tall and defiant looking, with high cheek bones and a proud look. Her skin was the color of honey and she spoke with the sing-song patios peculiar to West Indian slaves.
‘Amy don’t know. The ship’s officers used her for sport on the journey.’ She spat into the dust at Saville’s feet. ‘Then the crew took their turn with her just before we reached shore. After that the captain sold her to a bawdy house. Amy don’t talk much no more.’
‘And you?’
She shrugged and said nothing, but her eyes burned with the shame and anger she felt, for her story would have been similar. Her defiance was apparent in every gesture, in her voice and in the depths of her eyes. She would have been trouble, and as a result would have been badly treated. However, she’d learned to survive, and Saville would wager that her coarse linen gown hid a back scarred by the lash.
Saville glanced at Josiah, feeling just as angry as the woman appeared to be. ‘What would you estimate the younger girl’s age to be?’
‘No more’n fourteen I shouldn’t wonder,’ Josiah murmured. ‘One of William Younger’s ships brought the pair of them to Bristol.’
Edmund would write down the runaways’ stories. A time would come when their tales of hardship would reach the right ears, people who would bring the lucrative practice of trading in slave labor to a halt. The slave depositions would be preserved, and might be useful evidence in the future. Unfortunately, it would not be in his lifetime, but Saville liked to think his children or grandchildren might embrace the cause. If he ever had any he’d teach them compassion and respect for the unfortunate people in the world.
His lips were pursed as they retraced their steps back through the tunnels. He was thinking furiously. Amy was little more than a child herself. She couldn’t have ended up in worse hands. William Younger was a notorious black-birder who sailed out of Bristol. The man had a son born in his image. Brought up to a life at sea, he’d been hardened to it. Both men had been up before him at the assizes for drunk and disorderly behavior. So far, Saville had been lenient with them, but now he had a score to settle on Amy’s behalf. Score it, he would, however long it took him.
Seth Adams came into his mind, and the young girl he’d ruined. What had been her name. Blanche Seaton? He wondered if the unwanted child she’d given birth to was happy being a nun. He knew Josiah would have done what he’d thought best, but did the girl yearn for a life different to that which she’d been born into? Did she ever wonder who her parents were?
He shrugged. How would Evelyn react if she learned she had a sister in a religious order? Would she hasten back to Antigua to find her? But then, the girl had been brought up on a plantation, the success of which had been earned at the expense of others. Conditioned to the hardships experienced by others on her behalf, he doubted if she would care about some half-sister, when the West Indies was awash with the bastards of slave owners.
He liked to think she would. He didn’t want to believe his Eve was that hardened to the plight of others less fortunate than herself. A smile inched across his face when he realized he was thinking of her again. He’d determined to cast her from his mind for an hour––an hour which had obviously passed.
* * * *
Alerted by the bark of the dog, Graine left the warmth of her bed to gaze out of the window. The night was bright with moonlight, brittle with ice. It glittered on bare bough and leaf, a reminder of the cold outside. Rebel was bounding about outside, in the way he did when he was seeking attention. His breath steamed with each bark.
Pulling the shawl around her shoulders, she was wondering how he’d managed to get himself locked out of the house, when three men on foot came into view. A gruff command and the dog came to the heel of the tallest of the three. Tail whipping back and forth, Rebel thrust his nose into his master’s hand to be rewarded for his obedience.
Two of the dark outlines she knew. The third was a stranger to her. They had come from the direction of the orchard, which lay beyond the trees. What had they been doing abroad at this time of night?
Not that it was any of her business, of course, but still, she was curious. She made no move to conceal herself. As the men came closer, Saville glanced up at her window. Bathed in moonlight, as she was, he couldn’t fail to see her and she saw no reason to hide from view. Although his face was in shadow, his eyes gave off a faint glitter as her own clung to them for the moment or two it took him to move out of her sight.
Scrambling back into bed she waited to hear Rebel come scrabbling up the corridor to take up his post outside her door. It was reassuring to know he was there. Not that he’d be much use if she needed help. He was much too friendly.
She smiled when she heard his claws pitter-patter over the floorboards. There was a whine against the keyhole, a hopeful scratch at the door, then he subsided with a martyred-sounding grumble. She grinned and closed her eyes.
The next morning she said to Jessie. ‘Your master keeps late hours.’
For some reason a chill entered the servant’s voice. ‘What master does or doesn’t do be his concern, missy.’
Dismayed, Graine stared at her. ‘Goodness, Jessie. There’s no need to assume such affront. I wasn’t prying, just making comment.’
‘Sometimes it’s best to keep comments like that to yourself, lest folks read something more into them.’ Jessie went bustling about, taking clothes from the press cupboard, clicking her tongue before busily shaking the creases out of them and folding them away again, all of which was quite unnecessary.
Graine’s eyes narrowed. Jessie’s reaction to an entirely innocent comment was interesting. Was there more to Saville’s activities than first met the eye? Pulling on a soft pink jacket she began to lace it over her gown of deep rose brocade.
‘Let me do that, you’ve got it all twisted,’ Jessie scolded, and snatched the lacing from her fingers.
‘Don’t be cross with me, Jessie,’ she said and, leaning forward, gently kissed the woman’s cheek. ‘I’ve said nothing to you that I wouldn’t repeat directly to the earl.’
A tear came to the woman’s eyes as she deftly arranged the laces. ‘Mayhap I spoke out too hasty, like. I’m sorry, Miss Adams. The master wouldn’t like me speaking out so sharply to a guest in his home.’
‘Then we’ll forget it happened.’ She picked up a brooch decorated with tiny pearls from a tray of furbelows. ‘Would this look pretty pinned on my cap?’
‘Bless you, no, it’s a lover’s knot and meant to be pinned over the heart, if your interest in the suitor who presented it is returned.’
‘But I’m promised to the earl’s cousin.’
‘The master knows that, don’t he? Like as not he don’t realize the significance of the brooch, him never having been a serious courting man, as yet. And it’s not as if the earl would deliberately set his cap at you. He probably thought it a pretty piece to set amongst the female fripperies.’
Chagrined by the reminder that she was not of good enough stock for the earl to be bothered with, she snapped. ‘I don’t suppose he would set his cap at me when I’m a nobody, and therefore beneath his notice. And even if I liked him enough to offer him encouragement, which I don’t, for he’s too fond of his own way, I’m promised to his cousin, John Lamartine, and must honor the agreement brokered between us. Damn it, Jessie, his cousin John sounds like the most unlikely partner for me.’
Jessie gave a bit of a grin and an infuriating, ‘Hm
mm.’ Drawing a filmy fichu around her shoulders she secured it with the brooch in the middle of her bosom. ‘Looks real pretty, it do. Now off you go for your breakfast, and take your shawl. It’s right cold out there in the corridors. There’s some more snow on the way, I shouldn’t wonder.’
Graine was glad of the shawl. The cold had given her hunger a sharp edge, and the smell of food made her hasten her steps towards the dining hall.
Saville was already there, waiting her presence before he broke his own fast. A glance at the little French clock on the mantel showed she was late. She dropped a curtsy, saying mischievously, ‘I apologize for my lateness. I was woken from my slumber by a barking dog and its master, and overslept as a result.’
‘Did it take you long to return to your dreaming, my lady of the moonlight?’
‘Only as long as it took Rebel to return to sentry duty.’
‘He’s taken a great liking to you.’ His warm smile drew an instant one from her. ‘We have a guest for breakfast, Captain Josiah Harrison. No doubt you will remember him since he was often a visitor at your home.’
Graine’s heart sank into her slippers. Was her deceit to be uncovered so soon? She wanted to run from the room and hide, but was paralyzed by her own fear. How she kept her smile in place she didn’t know as she said ineffectually. ‘I must return to my chamber, for I’ve forgotten my handkerchief.’
‘You shall have mine,’ he said, pressing a monogrammed square of white linen into her hand. He gazed at the brooch and his smile became more intimate. ‘A pretty thing; it’s a love knot.’
She lowered her eyes from his. ‘Does that have some significance?’
‘My father gave it to my mamma when he courted her.’
She felt like striking him. How insensitive to give a woman a love token which signified another couple’s affection. She bit down on a hasty retort. ‘Then I’ll make sure I look after it, for it must hold precious memories for you. I thought it would look well with this gown.’
‘It fades to insignificance when measured against the beauty of the wearer. You, my dearest Eve, are a gem beyond compare.’
His compliment made her tremble, for soon he would despise her. She placed her hand on his arm. ‘Saville, there’s something I wish say to you.’
Her hand was turned over for her palm to received the most tender of kisses. ‘And I have something to tell you. A most surprising thing has occurred––’
He gave her a rueful look and dropped her hand when the door was opened. ‘Ah Josiah; you slept well, I hope.’
With great trepidation, Graine turned to see a man who was a stranger to her. Of medium height and getting on in years, he was grey-bearded and of a weathered appearance. Bright blue eyes surveyed her with a certain amount of uncertainty.
Expecting to be denounced, Graine held her breath until her heart thumped a protest against her bodice.
Then the uncertainly was replaced by a wide smile as the man growled softly. ‘I’ll be damned. When you were ten you were the living image of your mamma, God rest her soul. Be danged if you ain’t Seth’s daughter through and through, now. You’ve grown up to be a beauty, Evelyn.’
The relief she felt, rendered her weak at the knees. What name had Saville called him by?
‘I can see you don’t remember auld Josiah Harrison. Can’t say I blames you. You were only a sprat the last time we met and all fixed to go to a neighbor’s picnic. You could hardly sit still with the excitement of it.’
On the occasions Graine had managed to escape from the attention of the ever-vigilant nuns she had observed many a plantation picnic. She’d enviously watched the plantation owners’ children from the safety of the sugar canes as they enjoyed pony rides, songs and games.
The adults had gazed indolently and fondly on their offspring from under sunshades. They’d talked of some far off land they called home, and had drunk rum distilled from the sugar they grew. Later in the day, the men would wrestle and the women laugh and flirt.
She’d envied the freedom those children had enjoyed, and envied even more the love and attention lavished on them by their parents.
It was from such picnics that marriages were arranged so estates would merge. Although she’d been invited and tolerated, poor Evelyn had probably not figured in such grand plans for the future. Her father was too notorious, she too lumpy and dull.
Leaving the past behind she pulled a smile to her face. ‘Of course I remember you, Captain Harrison. How nice to see you again.’ She allowed him the liberty of a brief hug. His beard smelled of salt and tobacco.
‘What was it you wanted to tell me?’ Saville asked her when they seated themselves at the table.
Graine searched her mind for something plausible, but could pluck nothing of significance from it. It seemed as if she was sinking deeper and deeper into this pit of lies she’d created for herself, but she couldn’t think of any way to stop herself. She snatched at the first thought that entered into her head.
‘I just wanted to thank you for your hospitality, I believe.’
His eyes engaged hers and his smile robbed her of breath. ‘My dearest Evelyn; I’m not being hospitable I’m being totally selfish. I’m savoring every precious moment of your company, so don’t be at all surprised if I keep you here for ever.’
Captain Harrison gave a chuckle when she blushed. ‘Now there’s a pretty thought. Your father’s blood runs in your veins, after all.’
‘Be assured that it does,’ Saville murmured.
Drowning in his deep regard, Graine could only wish such a thing was possible.
Chapter Five
Graine knew she’d had a narrow escape. Thank God Josiah Harrison had allowed his memory to absorb her as Evelyn.
She thought long and deeply about the position she’d dared to assume. She must be on her guard, for all she knew of Evelyn’s life was the four years she’d spent as her companion.
But Saville and John Lamartine knew even less, she told herself. Evelyn had never met either of them, and her own unease stemmed from nothing but guilt. It wasn’t her fault that Evelyn had perished, and it wasn’t as if she was a complete stranger for they’d been joined by their father’s blood. But without her mother’s letter, Graine had no way of proving a relationship existed between them and, the letter was now at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean.
She quaked at her own temerity. If the fraud was discovered the penalty would be severe. She’d probably be sent to prison.
Josiah Harrison had come as a complete shock to her. Evelyn had rarely spoken of her childhood or parentage. That struck Graine as slightly odd now, and she knew she must prepare herself for more surprises of that nature. Luckily, the captain had grasped on the similarity between them instead of the differences, and those similarities were inherited from Seth Adams.
Fetching her cloak she headed downstairs. Saville and Josiah were sequestered in the library. The low rumble of their voices reached her as she walked past. She was halfway down the stairs when Rebel gave a short, sharp yelp. The library door opened and the dog bounded past her, waiting at the bottom of the stairs with an expectant look on his face.
She glanced up to discover Saville looking over the balustrade at the top. He smiled. ‘It seems as though you have a companion on your walk. Don’t go too far, or stay out too long. You’re not used to the cold weather.’
His concern for her welfare was touching. ‘I’ll never acclimatize myself if you do not allow me to venture out.’
‘Proceed with all caution then,’ but the warning was said with laughter in his voice.
‘Of what should I beware? Is there a pack of hungry wolves waiting in the bushes to devour me?’
‘Perhaps one wolf, alone in his wintery den.’
‘And is that wolf dangerous, or does he possess a growl more ferocious than his bite?’
Saville’s answer was to bound down the stairs. Reaching out, he gently arranged the cowl over her head. ‘How exquisite you look framed all in fur.�
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She laughed, charmed by his smile and the warmth in the depths of his eyes. ‘Thank you, My Lord.’
They stared at each other for a few moments before Saville brushed a thumb gently over her lips. ‘It would not do for me to kiss you now.’
Graine thought it would do her very nicely to be kissed by him now. ‘Why not?’ she said lightly. ‘Is there a special time set aside for kissing in England?’
He chuckled, but the expression in his eyes was watchful. ‘You’re my guest, and at the moment are promised to my cousin. Do not tempt me.’
Was she being a temptress? Her smile faded and she nodded as she confessed. ‘I’d quite forgotten about John Lamartine.’
‘Had you? But that’s why you journeyed here. To find a husband.’
‘To wed the husband you found for me,’ she corrected. ‘What if you’ve made a mistake, Saville Lamartine? Must I spend the rest of my life paying for it?’
‘I admit it’s a possibility, but still, we must treat John’s petition with some respect. He has feelings too, and pride is one of them. It would not do to make him a laughing stock.’ His hands were still cradling the sides of her face; his body was a scant few inches from hers. The warmth of him pulsated against her, making her glow. All she had to do was lean forward.
His hands dropped to his side and he took a step back, putting distance between them. ‘I have sent a message to John. Amongst other things I’ve informed him of your safe arrival and advised him that we’ll be travelling to London in the spring. In the meantime, we must observe convention.’
‘Yes, we must, but I’m unfamiliar with this convention of yours,’ she said, her heart thumping painfully now she knew she’d fallen in love with him. He was an earl, and too far above her for serious consideration. She had no intention of following in her mother’s footsteps and taking a lover, but was dismayed to discover she’d inherited her traits. Was this tumultuous clamor of feeling she had for this man as entirely carnal and wicked as it felt?
