Nightsong

by Valerie Sherwood

  ‘You will not be able to train that one,’ murmured Kells, shaking his head. ‘Go on, tell me about this Frenchman.’

  ‘I am not sure he is French,’ she said slowly. ‘There is something very Spanish about him. And when I shot a question at him in Spanish, he replied instantly in flawless Spanish.’

  ‘A Spaniard . . .’he said thoughtfully.

  ‘Oh, well, I don’t know that, Kells. He claimed to be from Marseilles. Perhaps he is.’

  ‘Many men claim to be from Marseilles. A crowded, indifferent, polyglot city - a convenient place to claim to be from, for one could get lost in the crowd there. Didn’t you tell me our new neighbour, Louis Deauville, also claims to be from Marseilles?’

  ‘Yes, I did.’ She flushed for she guessed Hawks had informed Kells of the way Monsieur Deauville, who had come to live across the street from them, always paid court to her, usually erupting from his house the moment Carolina left hers, finding ways to speak to her, seeking her out in the market. She brought the conversation back to Raymond du Monde, considering it safer. ‘Anyway, I cannot say that he is not French. He said he had come from New Providence most recently, that he had only spent his boyhood in Marseilles.’

  Kells quirked an eyebrow at her. ‘But you thought he was Spanish?’

  ‘Well, I could have been wrong.’

  ‘I doubt it. Your instincts are very good about these things.’

  ‘Anyway, he is gone so we need not bother about him. He told me he was leaving the very next day.’

  ‘Gone. So soon? Did he say where he was going?’

  ‘I don’t remember - no, I don’t believe he did.’

  ‘And you were not curious enough to ask him?’

  ‘Well, after all, it was not my affair. I only invited him to sup with me because - ’

  ‘Because he came to your aid, I know. Still ... I wonder what he wanted and how he managed so handily to come to your aid?’

  ‘Oh, that’s ridiculous!’ she burst out. ‘He couldn’t have planned it! After all, how could Monsieur du Monde have known that Gilly would run down the street and trip and fall down right in front of me?’

  ‘Yes,’ he mused. ‘A fortunate fall, was it not? I wonder how she happened to do that . . .’ He raised his voice. ‘Gilly, you can come out now, I can see your eyes shining in the crack of the pantry door.’

  Reluctantly Gilly opened the door. She looked sulky, and Carolina gave her an angry look.

  ‘If you eavesdrop on us, Gilly, I will have to send you away,’ she said sharply.

  Gilly, furious at being caught up in her spying, promptly burst into tears and ran from the room.

  Kells’s hard gaze followed her flight. ‘Better find the wench another place,’ he advised.

  ‘No, I will give her another chance,’ Carolina said. ‘But tell me, why would the gossips have it that you were trying to buy a plantation along the Cobre?’

  ‘Because I was.’

  ‘But I thought you said - ’

  ‘I said I was not in the process of buying one, not that I did not wish to.’

  ‘Oh.’ She spoke the word soundlessly.

  ‘Well, do not look so alarmed. I had thought it would be a simple matter since money is offered to me freely for buccaneering ventures. But oddly enough, I can find no backers for this enterprise. Men are willing to risk fortunes with me in the hope of immediate and dazzling gain, but they are quick to point out that buying land and making it pay is a long road.’

  ‘You could do it!’ she said hotly, on his side now and quite forgetting that she had been against the project.

  ‘Oh, I am sure of it. But men with money to invest sheer off from it. It would seem that my longevity as a buccaneer is not highly regarded. Oh, it is couched in fine words, but it is explained to me that I must pay cash.’ He gave her a wry look.

  They had finished their dinner now and were sipping the strong ruby-red wine of Portugal - port, named for the town of Oporto from whence it came. Her silver eyes mirrored her astonishment.

  ‘But you have ceased buccaneering. Everyone knows that!’

  ‘No one believes it. Perhaps even I do not.’ He shook his head tiredly.

  ‘Then ignore them and pay cash!’ she exploded. ‘Forget these other men who only seek to profit on your dangerous work.'

  There was a rueful look in the grey eyes that looked down upon her tenderly. She looked so lovely there in her white gown with her breast heaving with indignation - so innocent, so untouched. And the effect somehow heightened by the barbarity of that opulent necklace, glowing like red coals and white fire.

  She caught her breath. ‘Surely there is no lack of money? I mean - ’

  ‘All the elegance that you see around you?’ His lips twisted in a wry smile. ‘Ours is an expensive household to keep up.’

  ‘But you have so much gold,’ she protested. ‘So much - ’

  ‘Held safe for me in England, yes, but only I can touch it. And you do not want me to go there.’

  She sat down suddenly, feeling that her legs would not support her. ‘No, I do not!’ Carolina said faintly.

  ‘And yet, Christabel’ - his gaze upon Carolina was wistful - ‘I must do something, else we will have to sell this house.’

  ‘Then sell the house!’

  ‘No, I do not propose to do that.’ His face was stern. ‘In the first place it would be dangerous. If the feeling is noised abroad that I am slipping downward, there would be those who might be bold enough to try to sell me to the Spaniards for fifty thousand pieces of eight.’

  She had forgotten that!

  ‘What do you propose to do?’ she asked in a small voice.

  ‘I propose,’ he said, spacing his words, ‘to resume my profession. The world sees me as a buccaneer - by God, I will be one!’

  ‘Oh, no,’ she said unhappily. ‘I couldn’t stand it - worrying, wondering where you are, whether you are still alive!’

  He gave Carolina a moody look. ‘You will have to stand it,’ he said shortly, ‘if we are to survive.’ And then he added more kindly, ‘It is either that or England, Christabel. I must have money - and soon.’

  And she had sent away the necklace that would have saved him! It was already almost a week away, somewhere on the high seas . . . She felt overcome by guilt. ‘Kells,’ she said, stricken, ‘I am sorry about the necklace.’

  He gave a short laugh. ‘It does not matter.’ His voice was bitter. ‘I would have been driven back to buccaneering eventually anyway, I suppose. You made a mistake when you chose to love me, Christabel. Some other man would have brought you a better life - a peaceful home, children, surroundings in which you could hold up your head.’

  ‘Oh, no, don’t say that!’ Impetuously Carolina circled the table and flung herself into his arms. ‘Don’t ever say that! I’ve never been sorry, Kells, never, not even once!’ It was not quite true - there had been moments - but just now, charged with emotion, she felt that it was true, and the intensity of her feelings seemed to shudder through her slight frame.

  Kells gave her a tender look. She was so reckless, so gallant, his fiery lady. She took every fence at a gallop, she flung her heart over, Devil take the hindmost. . .

  She drew away from him, breathing excitement. ‘Tomorrow night is the governor’s ball. You will speak to the governor. He will find you the necessary backing!’

  His smile was tender as he swept Carolina’s slight figure up in his arms and bent to press a light affectionate kiss upon her parted lips. ‘What will be will be, Christabel - at least we will have tonight!’

  Gilly, who had slipped out of the pantry and was peering from the dining room into the hall, watched him take the steps two at a time and felt a stab of envy.

  THE GOVERNOR’S HOUSE

  PORT ROYAL, JAMAICA

  Spring 1692

  6

  ‘I wonder what she is like.’ Carolina was pulling on her gloves as she spoke, despite the sweltering heat that had not dissipated with the nigh
t.

  ‘Who?’ asked Kells. He was frowning at the carriage that had just drawn up smartly before their front door.

  ‘The governor’s cousin, Mistress Grummond. After all, the governor is giving this ball for her,’ she reminded him. ‘You must remember to be very gallant and dance with her several times - the governor will like that.’

  Kells snorted. ‘He’s unlikely to notice - he’ll be spending his time wondering why I was such a damn fool as to order up a carriage when we live close by!’

  Carolina gave him a reproving look and carefully adjusted her wide skirts before allowing him to hand her into the carriage. Carolina had insisted they would make a much more impressive entrance if they rode up to the governor’s house rather than walking to the ball as most of the guests would probably do. ‘Not to mention the state of our shoes,’ she had added to cap her argument. ‘Satin slippers are simply ground up by this sand.’ She wagged a black satin-clad toe at him.

  ‘No one will be looking at your feet,’ he assured her as he climbed in beside her, an impressive figure in gun-metal satin, the wide cuffs of his stiffly skirted coat encrusted with silver and an emerald gleaming from the frosty burst of Mechlin at his throat. ‘They’ll be too occupied staring at the rest of you.’

  Carolina flashed him a winning smile that displayed a double row of even white teeth. ‘That was what I had in mind,’ she admitted modestly, looking down with satisfaction at the black and silver creation an excited Betts had helped her into. She had taken the time to pirouette before the mirror and was certain that this was the most dramatic gown she had ever owned. Indeed the dressmaker had done a wonderful job, for the daringly low-cut silver tissue bodice fit her delicately rounded breasts and narrow waist to perfection. The silver tissue sleeves ended at the elbow in an enormous burst of sheer black lace, and the tiny waist was emphasized by the width of the silver tissue skirt. But what made the dress so spectacular was the shepherdess effect given the tight bodice by crisscrossed black satin ribands and the wide black satin insets flowing from the waist, which were shaped like long flower petals sweeping down the wide skirt. Her shining fair hair was swept up with studied casualness in the new higher mode which allowed several shining locks to dangle down carelessly to caress her smooth white shoulder. Betts, who was clever with such things, had set small bursts of brilliants on black satin ribands into her hair so that they outlined and made the most of its daring sweep down to her shoulders. Diamonds glittered from her ears, and across the bare expanse of her white bosom the ruby and diamond necklace wound a fiery trail, for she intended to look opulent tonight!

  He laughed, but he cocked an eyebrow at her, for he was an indulgent husband and paid little heed to how much she spent. Arriving ship captains bringing the world’s goods to Jamaica knew - if they were experienced in the Port Royal trade - that the finest fabrics, the most lustrous silks, would find a ready market with Captain Kells’s dazzling lady. ‘You do me credit!’

  ‘I changed it slightly from the Paris fashion doll it was copied from,’ she told him airily. ‘This effect of silver petals on the skirt is of my own invention.’

  His grey eyes glinted. ‘Our new French neighbour across the street, Monsieur Deauville - who will undoubtedly be attending the ball tonight - will be brokenhearted that you have elected to change the design of the fashion doll he gave you,’ was his ironic comment.

  Carolina was startled. Did he know everything that happened, her tall buccaneer? The horses’ hooves continued their muffled clip-clop down the sandy street as she made him a cautious answer.

  ‘When Monsieur Deauville moved in across the street while you were gone, the cart carrying his baggage overturned,’ she explained. ‘Hawks and I had just come out of the house on the way to market, and Hawks assisted the men in getting poor Louis’s baggage out of the street.’ She could have bitten her tongue for calling the Frenchman ‘Louis’, but it was too late.

  ‘And so instead of rewarding Hawks, who bent his back to aid him, “poor Louis” sent you a fashion doll,’ Kells remarked without expression.

  Put that way it did sound very bad, she thought. ‘Louis Deauville was merely trying to show his gratitude,’ she said a trifle crossly.

  Kells laughed. ‘And pay a tribute to beauty at the same time! Well, no matter. I will meet Deauville tonight, I have no doubt.’

  Carolina had no doubt at all that he would meet Louis Deauville tonight. The handsome Frenchman had been dogging her footsteps. Indeed he had formed a most disconcerting habit of popping out of his house and bowing deeply and exchanging pleasantries every time she went to market. ‘Hawks talks too much,’ she muttered, guessing rightly the source of Kells’s information. ‘Poor Louis is harmless! But he is French and Frenchmen do pursue women!’

  ‘Harmless . . .’ murmured her buccaneer thoughtfully, for the town had been flooded with stories of the Frenchman, and in all of them the new arrival had cut quite a figure. ‘We will see how harmless “poor Louis” is! Well, it seems we have reached the governor’s house after our long journey!’ He dropped lightly from the carriage and assisted Carolina down while other satin-clad guests, streaming towards the governor’s wide-fronted brick house, turned to stare curiously at the striking pair.

  ‘Get rid of the carriage. Hawks,’ said Kells, glancing up at the laconic buccaneer, who had volunteered to drive them.

  ‘No, bring it back when the ball ends,’ Carolina said instantly, for she had already spotted Louis Deauville through the brightly lit door and had no wish to bait Kells by having the attractive Frenchman join them for the walk home. ‘We will leave in style!’

  Kells grunted and Hawks hid a grin as he turned the team about, a manoeuvre necessitated by the position of the building, which was set at an angle with the street as if to command a view of Fort James on the point.

  But Carolina’s impressive entrance was destined to be spoiled. Even as they were about to step through the doorway, where the portly little governor in bronze satin was standing next to his wife in apple green and an arrogant young woman in pink silk, there was a howl from the direction of the kitchen followed by such piercing screams that the governor and his wife both broke and ran for the commotion; the woman in pink - who must have been his cousin, Mistress Grummond - trailed distractedly after them, leaving the arriving guests to fend for themselves.

  ‘Someone upset a boiling kettle, I’ll be bound,’ muttered someone at Carolina’s elbow.

  ‘Over somebody else from the sound of it,’ came a cheerful observation from behind her.

  And Carolina found herself looking into the smiling face of Louis Deauville, who must, she thought irritably, have deliberately stationed himself with a view of the door, for he bobbed towards her eagerly the moment they entered.

  By the time she had introduced the Frenchman to Kells, by the time all the proper pleasantries were exchanged, by the time the panic in the kitchen had been quieted and a doctor summoned for the sobbing servant girl who had accidentally dribbled scalding sauce on to her foot, by the time Acting Governor White and his lady were back in position to receive at the door, Carolina and Kells were deep into the room, the music had struck up, and Louis Deauville had made her an impressive leg and demanded the honour of the first dance.

  Kells was conversing with an upriver planter who was urging him to buy the property next to his, a subject which might keep him occupied for the next half hour, so Carolina was pleased enough to glide out upon the floor with the engaging Monsieur Deauville, for she was dying to ask him about his adventures in London.

  ‘I am told you know London well, Monsieur Deauville,’ she challenged him.

  The Frenchman, a marvel this night in fawn satin heavily stitched with orange silk, shook his golden periwig gracefully and admitted to having some small acquaintance with the town.

  ‘And perhaps some acquaintance with its gaming houses as well?’ Carolina asked negligently, permitting him to twirl her about so that her wide skirts billowed.

/>   ‘Indeed yes,’ was the blithe rejoinder. ‘What would the so beautiful lady care to know about them?’

  The so beautiful lady smiled up at her elegant dancing partner and murmured, ‘I wonder if you could tell me about a certain gaming house - let me see if I can remember the name. Could it be Mistress Masterson’s?’ She frowned as if searching her memory.

  ‘I believe you mean Chesterton,’ he supplied promptly. ‘Jenny Chesterton’s.’

  ‘Ah, yes . . .’ Carolina’s face cleared. ‘And was she not once a headmistress?’ she wondered vaguely.

  ‘Indeed she was!’ the Frenchman agreed gaily and promptly led Carolina into a pattern of steps so intricate that she decided he must indeed have been a dancing master back in France. ‘She maintained a very select school for young ladies, so she told me, until she was discovered en déshabillé, I believe I must call it, with one Lord Ormsby.’

  Carolina chuckled inwardly. En déshabillé was a mild way of putting it, for Jenny had been discovered by the mama of one of her young charges, clad in her chemise, in the midst of a wild game of Blind Man’s Buff with Lord Ormsby and some of his rowdy friends - all of them caught prancing about, very drunk, in their smallclothes.

  She was careful not to betray a personal knowledge of Jenny Chesterton or her establishment. Instead she looked up at Louis Deauville with her large lustrous eyes and said in a wheedling voice, ‘I am told you have some wonderful tale to tell about the place - something about an English schoolgirl?’

  Beneath the power of that silver gaze, Louis Deauville’s fawn satin chest expanded. ‘Ah, she was a pretty piece,’ he sighed. ‘A head of wonderful auburn hair, très merveilleux, très élégant.'

  Yes, that would have been Reba - marvellous auburn hair, very elegant!

  Carolina’s next question was flung out carelessly. ‘Did you know her well?’

  Monsieur Deauville’s eyes glittered with amusement. ‘You wish to know if she was my paramour, non? You wish to hear of my amorous adventures, my affaires de coeur?'