Black Sheep's Daughter

by Carola Dunn

  "You must learn not to heed the lack of manners of the ill-bred," drawled Sir Andrew. "A bourgeois, I make no doubt. A true lady must have realised that your condition was due to misfortune, not to willful disregard of the proprieties. I remember being in precisely the same shocking condition myself quite recently."

  Teresa recalled his arrival at the hacienda, and this time had no difficulty in laughing. "Shocking indeed," she said gratefully. How noble of him to remind her of a contretemps he must wish to forget!

  Meanwhile, Oscar had made the acquaintance of the head of the family and learned that they were stranded in Siquirres by a sick ox, one of those they had hired in Limón to take them to the Meseta Central. "My sister will look at it," he offered. "She is a curandera, and always takes care of our sick animals. Teresa, you will see what you can do for their ox, will you not?"

  Teresa was tempted to refuse, in revenge for the snub she had received. She saw Sir Andrew watching her curiously, as if he could read her mind. What would a true lady do in such a situation, she wondered.

  Sighing, she nodded. "All right. I had better go before I bathe, but please order a bath for me before dinner." As she turned to go out, she caught a look of approval in Sir Andrew's eyes and raised her eyebrows at him.

  He followed her to the stables. "Admirable!" he said, leaning against the wall and watching as she examined the eyes and ears of the huge, placid animal.

  "I am delighted to have done something right for once," she retorted tartly. "However, I take leave to doubt that many English ladies are thoroughly acquainted with veterinary medicine. Will you be so good as to tell me what I have done to earn your approval?"

  "Resisted the urge for vengeance. Not necessarily a ladylike trait, but admirable nonetheless."

  A wave of weariness overwhelmed her. "I am too tired to try to be ladylike. Do go away." She turned to the servant. “Juan! Tráeme mis hierbas, por favor."

  Thanks to Teresa's herbs, the ox was clearly on the mend by morning. The Spaniard was duly grateful when they met at breakfast. His wife, however, sat at table with her back to the room, rigidly disapproving. Teresa was inclined to take a pet until Sir Andrew murmured "coals of fire" in her ear.

  "Coals of fire? Whatever are you talking about?"

  "Another expression you are not familiar with? It's from the Bible, I believe, unless it is Shakespeare. Everything is one or the other. Something about feeding your enemy and thus heaping coals of fire on his head."

  "That's all very well," grumbled Teresa, "but la señora seems to have a fireproof head." All the same, she felt better.

  * * * *

  It was a long day's ride to Limón, but nothing occurred to slow them and once again they reached shelter as dusk was falling. Oscar led them to an inn where he was well-known, a large, two-storied building with extensive stabling for horses, mules and oxen. It was too dark to see much of the town or the harbour, but Teresa looked forward to exploring in the morning.

  It rained all night, a ceaseless drumming on the roof tiles that was irritating to begin with but soon became soothing. By the time they gathered for breakfast it had stopped and the sun, already hot, had chased away the clouds.

  Andrew was anxious to establish contact with the Royal Navy frigate that had been sent to meet him. The Danvilles walked with him through the little town down to the harbour to view the situation.

  Limón appeared to consist of several inns, a carpenter's shop making ox carts, a number of warehouses and, near the quay, a customs house that was little more than a shed. In this ramshackle building, Oscar explained, were stationed a pair of customs officers whose job was to prevent the Costa Ricans from trading with anyone but Spain.

  "If they were more successful," he went on, grinning, "we should have started fighting for our independence long ago. As it is, British and American traders come and go more or less at will."

  "I gather the Admiralty does not care to risk offence by sending in a Navy ship," said Andrew. "I was told to signal from that little island, just offshore." He pointed to where, sheltering the harbour, a small island rose from the sparkling blue swells of the Caribbean.

  "The Isla Uvita," said Oscar. "We must find a boat to take you there, then. How are you to signal?"

  "With a lantern, at night."

  As the two young men discussed their plans, Teresa gazed out to sea. Waves lapped gently at the wooden quay and fork-tailed frigate birds wheeled high overhead. Suddenly it was real to her, the fact that she was about to leave her native land, to sail thousands of miles across the ocean to a world she could scarcely imagine. A rising bubble of anticipation made her breathless, and she held tight to Marco's arm, very glad that he was to go with her.

  He looked down at her and she saw by his shining eyes that he was feeling the same excitement. "What an adventure!" he breathed.

  Sir Andrew and Oscar had settled matters between them and turned back towards the town. Teresa and Marco followed reluctantly, unwilling to leave the inviting shore for the muddy streets.

  The day dragged endlessly. By mid-morning it was raining again, and the occasional pauses in the downpour only allowed a swarm of vicious mosquitos to attack. The heat and humidity made every movement an effort. Even Gayo was listless.

  Dusk brought a cooling breeze, and the town came to life. Men gathered at the posadas to drink chicha beer, and among them Oscar found a fisherman willing to take Andrew out to the Isla Uvita without asking too many questions.

  The Englishman returned disconsolate at dawn. There had been no response to his lantern waving.

  Teresa made good use of the delay. She and Josefa went out to the little market behind the posada and purchased several yards of black cotton cloth. They retired to their chamber, which being upstairs caught the slightest breeze, and sewed on flounces to lengthen all Teresa's skirts. If Sir Andrew was willing to admit that a habit with a train was impractical for riding in the jungle, she was willing to admit that short skirts were inappropriate in public. Besides, the contrasting black was quite striking.

  Even upstairs, the heat was hard to bear. When she went down to dinner, everyone was crotchety and no one commented on her improved appearance.

  * * * *

  Three miserable days passed. Each evening Andrew was rowed out to the island, each morning he returned more worried. The first week of July was past. If for some reason the ship did not make the rendezvous, it might take months to find other transportation and his reports were urgently awaited in London. It was too hot to sleep properly during the day and at night he dared not close his eyes lest he miss a signal.

  On the fourth night, he nearly sent Rowson in his place. His man was just as able to wield a lantern. However, he could not expect the servant to talk the captain, if he arrived, into allowing the Danvilles on board. Not for the first time, Andrew wished heartily that he had not taken on the responsibility for seeing them to their destinations.

  For the fourth time he disembarked on the island and climbed wearily up the hillside facing the sea. Setting his lantern on a rock, he checked his watch. Every hour, on the hour, he must swing the light three times, pause, and again three times.

  At eleven o'clock, an answering spark showed briefly to seaward. It could have been a firefly, but no, there it was again: a triple flash, pause, and three more flashes.

  Half an hour later, he was clambering up a rope ladder to the dimly lit deck of HMS Destiny.

  "Sir Andrew Graylin?" The officer of the watch saluted. "Captain Fitch requests that you join him below, sir."

  Down a steep companionway, between rows of half-seen hammocks, ducking his head beneath guessed-at beams, Andrew followed the cabin boy to the captain's cabin in the stern of the frigate. He had spent enough time afloat to adjust automatically to the uneasy motion of a ship at anchor.

  The boy tapped on a door.

  "Enter," called a thin, reedy voice.

  Captain Fitch was a tall, skinny man with greying hair and the mournful, wrinkled
face of an underfed bloodhound. He stood up from his chart table as Andrew entered his cabin, and shook hands with a preoccupied air. "Happy to have you aboard, Graylin. Excuse me while I give orders to weigh anchor."

  "You mean to sail into Limón, then?"

  "No, no. Mustn't let the Spaniards know what we're about. I need to find a quiet spot to take on fresh water and supplies." The captain sat down again and studied his chart anxiously.

  "I fear we cannot leave immediately, sir. My servant and all my belongings are still ashore. And I promised to ask you if you would mind conveying to Jamaica a couple of young gentlemen of English descent..."

  "Yes, of course, we shall find a spot for them to sling their hammocks."

  "...And their sister."

  Captain Fitch looked up in shock. With dropped jaw and raised eyebrows, his long, weatherbeaten face became a maze of furrows in which his horrified eyes nearly disappeared. "Females on my ship? Never, sir, never! Quite out of the question. Now, I don't suppose you know of any deserted cove where we might put in for water, fruit and a bit of fresh meat?"

  Andrew felt a rush of relief. He had asked, and had been turned down. His responsibility for Teresa was at an end. With a clear conscience he could leave her disturbing presence behind him and rediscover his usual composure.

  He looked down at the chart, but what he saw was Teresa's face, full of hurt disappointment, bravely fighting back tears. "Her uncle, their uncle, is the Duke of Stafford," he heard himself say. "I believe his Grace's brother is a Lord of the Admiralty. Miss Danville and one of her brothers are travelling to London to stay with the duke."

  "Danville?" said the captain absently. "That would be Lord Frederick Danville. D'ye think we could put in here, Graylin, at the mouth of the Rio Colorado?"

  "I have no idea, captain. If I were you, I should sail right into Limón harbour and be damned to the Spanish. The local people are about to rise in open revolt against them, and the sum total of the garrison is two ragged customs officials. I'd wager they've not been paid in months." A plan began to form in Andrew's mind. "Put me ashore now, and I will arrange that by midday they shall be incapable of noticing your arrival. My word on it."

  * * * *

  A couple of hours later, Andrew crept up to Teresa's chamber door and scratched on it.

  "¿Quien es?" demanded a sleepy voice he recognised as Josefa's.

  He had forgotten that the maid was sharing the room. He was annoyed, but on second thoughts it was most fortunate that Teresa had a chaperon, and the girl would not understand if they spoke English. In a whisper, he explained that he must speak to the señorita.

  When he was admitted to the room a few minutes later, Gayo glared at him with silent suspicion. Teresa was sitting up in bed, wrapped in a mantilla, her dark eyes huge in the light of a single tallow candle. Her black hair hung in a glossy plait over her shoulder. Andrew found himself suppressing an alarming urge to loosen it, run his fingers through its silky length, take her face between his hands and press kisses on her lips.

  "What is it?" she asked, her voice husky. "Has the ship come?"

  "Yes. I apologise for visiting you at this ungodly hour, but I must know, do you have some sort of sleeping potion among your medicines?"

  "Yes, of course." Teresa started to push back the bedcover, then changed her mind. "Josefa, mis hierbas, por favor. You cannot sleep, sir? When do we go aboard?"

  Quickly he explained the situation as she sorted through her herbs. "You see," he finished, "I shall tell Captain Fitch it was your doing that the officials are incapacitated, and with luck his gratitude will be such that he will take you aboard after all."

  "But what am I to do if he will not? I shall never have another chance to go to England."

  "Never fear, I shall find a way to persuade him. If gratitude will not do it, then I shall have to convince him that your uncle in the Admiralty will be most displeased to learn of his discourtesy."

  "How kind you are to do this for me." She looked up at him with a slight frown, trying to read his reasons, then handed him a small leather pouch. "Here, take this and put three pinches in each man's mug of beer. They should fall asleep almost at once and sleep for at least twelve hours. Have you told Oscar? I expect he will be able to arrange for supplies to be ready to load when the ship arrives."

  "Good idea. I'll talk to him first thing in the morning."

  "The herbs could not wait till morning?" Teresa teased.

  Andrew felt his face redden and hoped it was invisible in the dim light. "If you had had nothing suitable, I should have needed time to make other plans," he said with dignity. "Now I can catch a few hours sleep before I tackle the enemy."

  She reached out one slender arm towards him. "You will be careful?" she begged. "They may be pathetic, but they are armed and Spain does still have sympathisers."

  "I shall take care," he promised, bowing over her hand and kissing it with more warmth than he had intended.

  He departed hurriedly, in something of a fluster, and failed to notice how she pressed the back of her hand to her cheek as she watched him leave.

  For his own already shaky peace of mind, it was just as well.

  Chapter 5

  Josefa blew out the candle, retired to her pallet, and was soon breathing evenly. Teresa lay down, but she could not sleep. She was annoyed with herself. Sir Andrew was undoubtedly the most interesting and attractive man she had ever met, but she had no intention of throwing her cap over the windmill. The rare occasions when he looked at her with respect, even with admiration, were more than outweighed by the many times she had read disapproval in his face.

  Besides, for all she knew some pretty, well-bred young lady awaited him in England. He might even be married. To be sure, he had never mentioned a wife, but nor had he ever claimed to be a bachelor.

  It had been most indiscreet of him to come to her chamber in the middle of the night. He could very well have waited till morning for the herbs. She was glad Josefa had been with her. For the first time, Teresa realised that there was a good reason for society's insistence on a chaperon for young ladies.

  She slept at last, but woke early and took Gayo down to the kitchens. In the dawn coolness the parrot was lively and talkative. The cook fed him on fruit and dried corn kernels, and laughed at his antics, especially when he addressed her as Sanchita. Her name was Maria, she said, and she tried to teach it to him.

  Rowson came in to fetch hot water for his master to shave, and then Marco appeared, looking for something to eat to keep him alive until breakfast. "Let's take Gayo out for half an hour while it's cool," he suggested, peeling a banana. "It's only a step or two to the edge of the forest and it's not raining for once."

  As they went, Teresa told him about the arrival of HMS Destiny and Sir Andrew's plan.

  "The very thing!" said Marco in triumph. "I have been racking my brains to find a way to take Gayo aboard without anyone knowing. We can drug them and carry them on with the rest of the luggage."

  "Papa said it was impossible to take him," his sister reminded him unhappily. "Besides, it is by no means certain that the captain will even allow me to go."

  "Fustian! You cannot be so poor spirited. Sir Andrew is a diplomat, after all, and accustomed to persuading people to do what he wants. Of course you will go with us, and without you Gayo will pine and probably die in no time."

  "Do you think so?" She watched as Gayo flew off to investigate a bush covered with appetising crimson blossoms.

  "Do you want to risk it, Teresa? After he saved you from the jaguar?"

  She made up her mind. "You are right, I cannot risk it. Surely if I keep him in the cabin there can be no objection. No one need even know he is there," she added optimistically. “Anyway, Sir Andrew said the captain might not mind as seamen often have parrots. I’ll worry about the duke when we get to England, but Sir Andrew and Oscar must not know we’re taking him aboard.”

  "We must buy a closed basket,” Marco proposed.

&nbs
p; "There is a sort of market near the posada. Will you go while I work out the right dose for him?"

  * * * *

  Oscar and Andrew were too busy with their own projects to notice the furtive activities of the younger members of the party. By the time the Destiny sailed into the harbour and dropped anchor, the two customs men were snoring in their official shack. The quay was already piled with barrels of fresh water and sacks of fruit, and hunters were coming in with game slung over their shoulders. A swarm of small boats rowed out to the frigate to bargain with the ship's purser in a peculiar mixture of English and Spanish.

  Andrew was first aboard. By dint of crediting Teresa with the entire success of his plan, together with frequent references to Lord Frederick Danville of the Admiralty, he managed to persuade the reluctant captain to allow her to travel with her brothers.

  He rushed back to the inn to tell her.

  She was pleased but unsurprised. "With your diplomatic training," she explained laughing, "I never doubted for a moment that you could talk him round. I am all packed already, you see."

  "Then let us go at once, before the captain changes his mind!" Oscar insisted.

  In the bustle of supplies being loaded, no one noticed the basket that Teresa herself carried aboard with particular care. She managed to hold onto it while she climbed down the steep rungs of the companionway, too anxious about the limp little body within to notice her surroundings.

  The cabin boy, a freckle-faced lad of ten or twelve, ushered her into the tiniest room she had ever seen. It looked to her more like a storage closet than an inhabitable space.

  "'Tis the first mate's cabin, right enough, miss," the boy assured her, noting her uncertainty. "The gentlemen'll be next door, where the other officers gen'rally sleep. 'Tain't much, I know. If I was cap'n, I'da gived you my cabin for sure." He turned bright red and ducked his head.

  "Thank you," said Teresa, smiling at him. "What is your name?"

  "Willy, miss. If you wants anything just call out my name. Summun'll tell me ifn I doesn't hear."