Black Sheep's Daughter

by Carola Dunn

  On seeing her, Teresa drew in her breath sharply. Miss Parr had removed her bonnet, revealing blond ringlets, blue eyes and a complexion pink and white as a china doll. No wonder Sir Andrew had chosen the girl as his bride!

  A wave of envy not far from jealousy swept over Teresa. She fought it down and went over to the bed. "How do you do," she said with a smile. "I beg your pardon for not greeting you before, but I thought it best to comply immediately with your mother's wishes."

  The answering smile was timid. "I do find it advisable to obey Mama quickly," said Miss Parr. Her voice was soft, apologetic. It grew softer as she added, "I am so sorry she was rude to you. She always says just what she thinks regardless of other people's feelings."

  "She was quite right, though," Teresa said ruefully. "When I see your face I must agree that I am 'shockingly brown.' However did you avoid getting sunburned in Jamaica? No, wait, we cannot talk comfortably here. Let us go up on deck."

  Miss Parr's blue eyes grew large. "Oh, Miss Danville! But there are sailors everywhere. Such rough men!"

  "We shall go to the quarter deck. Only officers go there."

  "I must ask Mama."

  Her ladyship was extremely doubtful of the propriety of two young ladies promenading on deck without an escort she had no intention of providing.

  "I expect Sir Andrew and Marco will be there, ma'am," Teresa assured her. "They will want to watch the preparations for our departure."

  "Marco?" The quizzing glass was brought into play.

  "My brother, who goes with me to England."

  "A foreign name, Miss Danville. Sir Archibald did not approve of foreigners."

  "We were born and raised in Costa Rica, ma'am. It is a colony of Spain. Our father, Lord Edward Danville, is an Englishman however."

  "Lord Edward Danville," mused Lady Parr, sitting up straighter. "Is Lord Edward by any chance a connexion of his Grace of Stafford?"

  "The duke is my uncle. Marco and I are going to live with him." Teresa crossed her fingers behind her back, remembering that her uncle was as yet unaware of her existence.

  "I shall be happy to make Mr Mark Danville's acquaintance," announced Lady Parr. "You may go up, Muriel. I believe Sir Archibald would have permitted it. Put on your bonnet and carry your parasol."

  Though unhappily aware that nothing could make her complexion match Miss Parr's, Teresa donned her plain straw hat.

  Neither Marco nor Sir Andrew was on deck. Teresa was glad to postpone her first sight of the betrothed couple together, glad also of the opportunity to talk privately with Miss Parr. She had a thousand questions she wanted to ask, about England and society and fashion, and about her engagement to Sir Andrew.

  In the crowded cabin, Teresa had not been able to view Miss Parr's gown properly. When they reached the quarter deck and began to stroll up and down, she realised that it was so different from her own dress as to make comparison impossible. The high, round neckline was trimmed with lace, as were the tight cuffs of the long, full sleeves. The skirt fell straight in front from a waist bound with darker pink ribbon just below the bust, while a few gathers at the back gave it just enough fullness to enable its wearer to take small, dainty steps. The delicate colour of the fine mull muslin made her own bright purple positively garish.

  "I daresay your gown is in the latest London fashion?" she asked wistfully.

  "Heavens no," answered Miss Parr with a refined titter. "I had it made up by a Kingston seamstress and all the pattern books in Jamaica are several months out of date at least."

  "Months! Do fashions change so fast?"

  "Only in details," conceded her companion. "Except during the London Season, it is not necessary to discard gowns even a year or two old. I expect things change more slowly in Costa Rica?"

  "On the whole, we dress for practicality," Teresa admitted. "It would be difficult to work on the hacienda in a skirt as narrow as yours. How elegant you look, and cool!"

  "It is impossible to look cool in Jamaica. I do not care for Jamaica. The people are so coarse and common that we never went into Kingston at all, and Mama did not let me leave the grounds of the King's House without two footmen to guard the carriage. I wonder that your papa permits you to travel without a chaperon or any servants!"

  Teresa assured her that she had left home with a maid and her elder brother to take care of her. "I could not have gone farther had not you and your mama come aboard to lend me countenance. But what, pray, is the King's House?"

  "That is the Governor's mansion, in Spanish Town. It is by no means the equal of an English mansion. I quite long to be back in England."

  "If you dislike Jamaica so, I wonder that you lived there. Were you there long?"

  "Nearly a year." Miss Parr explained that on the death of her father, Sir Archibald, some fourteen months since, her aunt had invited them for a visit. Since her marriage must be postponed until after a year's mourning, and by chance Andrew had been able to escort them to Jamaica on his way to Mexico, the invitation had been accepted. "However," she continued, "I wish we had stayed at home. Everything is so strange here. Once we are married, Andrew will not care to travel."

  Teresa hoped for her sake that she was right. "How did you meet Sir Andrew?" she asked.

  "He was presented to me as a partner at Lady Sefton's ball. Mama did not care for the match—he is a second son, you know—but after all, Papa was only a baronet and my fortune is not large. It was my second Season and I had not had an offer from any gentleman I liked half as well."

  Teresa was prevented from delving into the depth of that liking by the arrival of the subject of their conversation.

  * * * *

  On their arrival in Jamaica, Andrew had gone to Spanish Town to inform the Governor of the results of his mission to Central America. There he met his Muriel for the first time in close to a year. He was struck anew by her gentle prettiness, the propriety of her manners, her deference to his wishes and opinions. She would make him an attractive, conformable wife, well suited to aid his advancement in his chosen profession. Already her connexion with the Governor of Jamaica had stood him in good stead in the diplomatic service.

  He had escorted his betrothed and her mother back to the naval base at Port Royal, then left them to board the Destiny while he completed some other business.

  Now, mounting the steps to the quarter deck, he was struck by the contrast between the two young ladies who awaited him. Beside Muriel's quiet elegance, Teresa appeared an awkward peasant. They moved towards him, the one tripping lightly, the other striding like a boy.

  "Andrew," cooed Muriel, her face shyly welcoming as he bowed and kissed her hand. "I am glad you are come. I feared you might be left behind."

  "They are about to raise the anchor," said Teresa. Her voice was lower, more resonant, and for the first time he caught the faintest hint of an accent. "Where is Marco, I wonder? He will be sorry to miss the excitement."

  "I picked up a couple of books for him in Port Royal, Miss Danville. He has had such a limited selection always that he is absurdly grateful for any addition to their number." He spoke lightly, but even to his own ears he sounded condescending.

  "Don Eduardo has always bought every volume he could lay his hands on," said Teresa, resentment in her tone. "If you will excuse me, I shall go and see how he does."

  He watched her go, sorry to have offended and hoping that she had not read his earlier thoughts in his face. Over the weeks he had known her he had ceased to wonder at her frank, outspoken manner and the idiosyncrasies of her dress. He did not want her to think he ceased to value her friendship just because Muriel had reminded him of the ideal of decorous propriety.

  "I hope you and Miss Danville will be friends," he said, turning abruptly to Muriel.

  "I hope so, if you wish it. Miss Danville is...an unusual person."

  "She has had no one to teach her the niceties of fashion and conduct. I begin to wonder whether her aunt, the duchess, will be willing to sponsor her if she arrives as
she is now. Not that I mean to criticise her! But do you suppose that you might try to give her some notion of what is required of a young lady entering society? She cannot do better than to model her behaviour upon yours."

  Muriel blushed with gratification, but said anxiously, "I will do my best to give her a hint, only I should not like to offend her. Oh, I know the very thing! I shall give her some of my dresses. I daresay Kinsey will be able to alter them to fit Miss Danville. That will lead to talk of fashion, and I can always slip in a word or two of advice about how to go on in London."

  "How good you are, Muriel!" He took her hand and kissed it warmly, producing another blush. "You see, I cannot but feel somewhat responsible for Miss Danville's acceptance by her relatives, since her father entrusted her to my care."

  "Of course, Andrew, I do understand. It will be good to have something to occupy me on the voyage. Jamaica was so very dull and I do dislike travelling above everything. How I long to be back in London, do not you?"

  Andrew agreed, though not without a certain hesitancy. Certainly he would enjoy a few months back in civilisation, but so much of the world waited to be seen. Of course, everything would be different once they were married, he assured himself. Different in what way, he failed to ask.

  * * * *

  Muriel's trunk was carried up from the hold by a grumbling sailor. Teresa held her breath as Kinsey set aside layer after layer of mourning clothes, grey and black. Underneath, the maid vowed, were several gowns she had packed "just in case." They were now two years old, out of date by London standards, but in the mid-Atlantic, who was to know?

  There was a walking dress of pink jaconet, trimmed with white frills, and a rose spencer to go with it. Another, of the palest blue, had a matching blue and white striped pelisse. Two morning gowns of white muslin, sprigged one with green and one with yellow, and a much beruffled white parasol completed the collection.

  "Miss Muriel hardly wore these at all," Kinsey explained. "It seemed a right pity to leave 'em behind. After all, you never know."

  "I remember, I had them made just before Papa died and we went into mourning. Do you like them, Miss Danville?"

  "Oh yes! They are beautiful. Only you will want to wear them, I am sure."

  "I had quite forgot them, and I have enough new things from Kingston for now, though of course I shall need a complete new wardrobe before I am married. You are welcome to them, Miss Danville."

  "Let's try 'em on you, miss, for I can see I'll have to do a spot of altering. Miss Muriel's a mite taller and p'raps a tad narrower in the bust and hip."

  Lady Parr, who had raised no material objection to the expropriation of her daughter's clothes but was watching suspiciously, broke in. "Muriel's figure is excellent. You will find, Miss Danville, that it is fashionable in the Haut Ton to be tall and slender. Sir Archibald could never abide short, squatty females."

  "Yes, ma'am," said Teresa, biting her lip in an effort not to laugh aloud. Her ladyship was tall enough, certainly, but it was impossible to imagine that she had ever been slender.

  "There is nothing wrong with your figure," Muriel whispered indignantly. "If anything, I am too thin for my height. You look perfect to me."

  "How kind you are!" murmured Teresa, squeezing her hand.

  Kinsey announced that with a bit taken off the hem and let into the bodice one of the gowns would be ready to wear by next day. That evening, for dinner in the wardroom, Teresa was still clad in one of her cotton skirts. For the first time since she had lengthened it, she was utterly dissatisfied.

  Captain Fitch, having resigned himself to losing his cabin to a bevy of females, was in a chatty mood. He held forth at length on the history of the buccaneers in Jamaica. Teresa once more had to bite her lip when she realised that he regarded Henry Morgan, that scourge of the seas, as something of a hero.

  Unfortunately she caught Sir Andrew's eye. That gentleman had clearly been struck by the same thought, and the giggle which sprang to her lips was irrepressible.

  "You are amused, Miss Danville?" asked the captain, regarding her with his mournful, doggy eyes.

  "I beg your pardon, sir. I was just thinking how odd it was that Sir Henry was made lieutenant governor of the island after his undeniably unorthodox career."

  "I am amazed, Miss Danville," pronounced Lady Parr, "that you should find such iniquity amusing. Sir Archibald considered the buccaneers to be barbarians."

  Unlikely as it seemed that the late baronet had ever found cause to pronounce such a condemnation, this censure failed to crush Teresa.

  Captain Fitch cast a look of profound dislike at her ladyship and changed the subject. "In these modern times," he said, "since we are not at present at war, the most barbarous sailors in these waters are the slave traders."

  "The Greek philosophers had no moral objection to slavery," Marco observed. As he rarely spoke, everyone looked at him in surprise. He crimsoned, and hurriedly filled his mouth with food.

  Captain Fitch decided to ignore his comment. "The slave trade has been outlawed by the British Government," he continued doggedly. "The Royal Navy is dedicated to stamping it out. While we lay at Port Royal, I was informed that a suspected slave ship, the Snipe, is known to be heading for Cuba. I have her description, and if we sight her we are duty bound to engage her," he ended with a triumphant nod at Lady Parr.

  "Engage it, captain? Engage it? You will do no such thing whilst I and my daughter are aboard. Sir Archibald would absolutely forbid such a thing. I venture to say, he would most certainly complain to the Admiralty at the very suggestion."

  "Sir Archibald is not here, ma'am, and even if he were he could not stop an officer of His Majesty's Navy in the course of his duties. We shall engage the Snipe, I say."

  "Is it not unlikely that we should sight the ship, captain?" Andrew enquired hurriedly, seeing his future mama-in-law grow purple in the face. "It must be the merest chance that we should cross its path."

  "Our course lies through the Windward Passage, between Cuba and Hispaniola, and the Snipe must needs pass one end or t'other," said the captain. "She'll be easy to recognise, for she's one o' these new-fangled Baltimore brigs with the raked masts."

  The first mate spoke soothingly. "It is not known whether the blackbirder sails north or south of Hispaniola, and in either case Sir Andrew is right. We shall be lucky to catch her."

  Captain Fitch scowled at him, and Lady Parr snorted at his choice of words, but no more was said of the slave ship that evening.

  * * * *

  Shortly after dawn the next morning came a cry from the lookout: "Sail-ho!"

  "What ship?" called up the second mate, the officer of the watch.

  "'Tis a brig, sir, with raked masts. I'll go bail she's the Snipe!"

  Chapter 7

  Shouts and the thud of running feet woke Teresa. She had slept later than usual if it was eight bells already and time to change the watch. She snuggled under the covers for a few minutes, then sat up wide awake and full of energy.

  The Parrs and their abigail were still sound asleep, her ladyship with her open mouth issuing a ladylike snore. Teresa grinned, threw back the covers and started to dress. Her eyes went to the green-sprigged muslin, hanging between her cot and Kinsey's. By tonight it should be ready to wear. How surprised Sir Andrew would be to see her in a London-made gown!

  She was tying her shoes when a crashing roar shook the air. Lady Parr, Muriel and Kinsey all sat bolt upright, sleepy eyes filled with alarm.

  "Lawks, what was that?" cried the abigail.

  Teresa shook her head and shrugged. "I've not the slightest notion," she admitted, "but I shall go up at once to find out."

  To the amazed horror of the other three, she took her pistols from under her pillow, checked that they were loaded, thrust them into their holsters and buckled the belt about her waist.

  "Muriel, I absolutely forbid you to leave the cabin," squawked Lady Parr.

  "Yes, Mama," whispered her daughter, looking as if it w
as the last order she was likely to disobey.

  "I shall come back to tell you what is happening," said Teresa, "but I suspect we have caught up with the slavers after all."

  When she stepped out of the cabin, she saw at once that the lower deck was cleared for action. All the guns were manned by watchful seamen, and one, right in the bows, was being reloaded.

  She expected to be told to return to the cabin, but everyone was too busy to notice her. After a moment's consideration, she decided it was probably no more dangerous on deck than below. If she found she was in the way she could always go back down.

  Marco, Andrew and Rowson were already on the quarter deck, with Captain Fitch and two of the officers. Teresa followed the direction of their gaze and saw a two-masted ship, considerably smaller than the frigate, a couple of hundred yards away. Its sails were being hastily lowered and a white flag waved from amidships.

  "Looks like they're surrendering," grunted the captain with satisfaction.

  As the Snipe lost speed, a boat was lowered over her side. Four men climbed down to it and began rowing towards the Destiny. The white flag went with them.

  They had covered half the distance when a hollow boom rang out. The Snipe shuddered visibly, though no damage was visible.

  "What was that?" asked Teresa. "Did we shoot at them?"

  The first mate turned to her, his face pale. "They're scuttling the evidence, ma'am. They've blown a hole in their own ship."

  Shouts and yells could be heard across the water, and they saw men jumping overboard.

  "That'll be the rest of the crew," said Captain Fitch. "The officers—if such scum deserve the name--abandoned them. Lower a boat, we'll go and pick 'em up. Maybe they'll turn King's Evidence."

  "But what about the slaves?" demanded Teresa. "Why are they not jumping?"

  "They'll have battened down the hatches, Miss Danville," explained Captain Fitch grimly. "No use scuttling the ship if the cargo escapes to tell tales."