Within a Captain's Treasure

by Lisa A. Olech

  “Of course.” Both children ran a finger over the smooth ivory curve. “When we start our lessons, we could learn more about lions.”

  “Or pirates,” added Brighton.

  “We’ll see. Right now, I need your help. You live in such a grand house, I wouldn’t want to get lost again trying to find the dining room.”

  “We’ll help you, Alice.”

  Alice smiled at the children as they each took one of her hands. She nodded to their nurse. “Is that all right?”

  “Of course, Mistress Alice.”

  “Well, let’s go? I’m starving.”

  They pulled her from the room. “Didn’t the pirates feed you?”

  “Did they eat cakes and cream?” asked Rebecca. “I love cakes and cream.”

  Brighton peered around Alice to correct his sister. “Not for breakfast, Becca.”

  The children chatted away happily about their favorite things to eat, and those horrible things their nurse makes them try. Green things seemed especially loathsome.

  As the three entered the bright dining room, Rebecca let go of Alice’s hand to run to her mother. “A lion gave his tooth to Alice.”

  “Not a lion,” rebuked Brighton, “a pirate.”

  “Children, please, sit at your places.” To Alice, she apologized, “I see my chatterboxes have met you.”

  “I heard wonderful fun coming from the nursery. I couldn’t wait.” Alice took her place at the table. So much silverware glittered next to her plate. On one hand, she was worried she wouldn’t remember the difference between a teaspoon and jam spoon. On the other, she was ashamed to wonder about how much silver it would all melt down to be.

  Amidst the happy commotion of settling the children and the tangle of servants and trays, a well-fashioned man joined them. “Good morning, family.”

  The children chimed together, “Good morning, Father.”

  Isabelle rose and kissed his cheek, “Carlton, this is Alice Tupper.” Her pale hand swept in Alice’s direction. “Alice, allow me to introduce my husband, Carlton Whitmore.”

  Alice was on her feet. “Mister Whitmore.” She nodded her head.

  Carlton Whitmore wasn’t much taller than his wife, even with his heeled shoes. Lines about his eyes told her he was several years Missus Whitmore’s senior if Alice were any judge of such things. A kindly man, given the way he greeted his wife and children, but there was a shrewdness to his stare. Alice supposed a man didn’t get to the position of plantation owner without a keen eye for business, as well as people.

  “Mistress Tupper, when Isabelle told me of your arrival, I’ll admit to being quite bowled over. Of course, we’re delighted you have reached us safely.”

  Alice was seated at the table. “I had serious doubts at times that I would ever see Virginia, but I’m happy to be here. You have a charming family.”

  He sat and placed his napkin in his lap. A footman poured his tea. “I’m anxious to hear the details of your trip.” He gave her a pointed stare. “The circumstances are disturbing to say the least. I have some specific questions I’d like to ask.”

  “Carlton,” Isabelle interrupted, “you’ll have to forgive him, Alice, he trained as a solicitor before becoming embroiled in local politics.” She shot Carlton a sharp look. “Let the girl have her breakfast before you begin interrogating her.”

  “I’m not interrogating the woman.” He turned back to Alice. “But the situation here is tenuous regarding shipments and colonizers reaching our shores. The increased activity of these so-called privateers is a concern to us all. Any light you could shed might be of some use in stopping these bloody thieves.”

  “Carlton, the children,” Isabelle admonished. Both Brighton and Rebecca were quiet and listening intently.

  “I’ll tell you whatever I can.” Alice took a sip of her tea, then cursed the slight shake of her hand as the teacup rattled back to its saucer. She steadied it with two hands.

  Carlton nodded. “Good. Let’s talk privately in my study after breakfast.”

  Alice forced a small smile to her lips. “Of course.”

  He clapped his hands together, and spoke to the children. “Do I smell Harriet’s famous cornbread?”

  Boisterous conversation erupted around the table. Plans were made for the day. Following her meeting with Carlton, the children would give her a quick tour of the property taking care not to venture into the fields. After their post-lunch rest, Isabelle and the children would take the carriage into town and see to Alice’s meager wardrobe. Would they like goose for dinner?

  Alice smiled and nodded in all the right places, but inside she was screaming. What exactly did Carlton Whitmore need to know? She found him studying her each time she glanced in his direction. Would he be able to see through her to the truth? How could she avoid giving him any information that would bring the Virginian authorities closer to capturing Gavin? What about her own head? She had a pouch full of Spanish gold and a pistol hiding in a pirate’s boot that could very likely put a noose around her own neck.

  The delicious-looking breakfast of fresh eggs, fat sausage, and the famous corn bread turned to ash in her mouth. It took three cups of tea to wash it down. By the time the meal was over, Harriet’s corn bread weighed like an anchor in her stomach.

  Chapter 21

  Alice followed Carlton Whitmore into his study. Drummond stood at the ready to open the doors for them. As the hasp clicked shut, a wave to dread washed over her.

  “Please, Mistress Tupper, have a seat.”

  The fine leather creaked as she sat. He moved to sit in the tall chair opposite her. From a humidor next to him, he pulled a long, thin cigar. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

  Alice stopped twisting her ring and tried to still her hands “Not at all.” She worried at her lip. “Your collection of books is quite impressive.”

  “Dusty old things. Isabelle’s responsible for most of them I’m afraid. She says they’re one of the benefits of owning an estate like this. You’re free to borrow the lot.” He rolled the cigar between his fingers and lifted it to his nose. “This is a better benefit of my estate. Shame I can’t offer you one.” He went through the motions of lighting his cigar with a spill. It wasn’t until a cloud of pungent, blue smoke circled his head that he spoke again. “I’m still quite amazed to have you here, Mistress Tupper.”

  “Alice, please.”

  “As you wish.” He frowned. “I was certain you were dead.”

  “You’re not the first man to believe that.” She swallowed. “I’m beginning to think I’m like a cat with nine lives.”

  “You were aboard the Pennington, were you not? That was the word we received.”

  Alice twisted the ring on her finger. “You’re correct. I boarded in Portsmouth.”

  Between puffs of his cigar, he stared at her intently. “I understood the ship was attacked.”

  “Yes, sir. The Delmar boarded under the guise of seeking aid, and within moments killed our captain.”

  “You were a witness to this?”

  Alice nodded as the memory of staring into the dead eyes of Captain Fredericks flashed in her mind. “They slaughtered all the men on deck, captain, crew, passengers. Most were dead before anyone could react.”

  “And the women?” He swept a hand in her direction. “It’s obvious they spared the women. What of the others?”

  “The crew of the Delmar spared no one.” The leather of her seat creaked as she shifted. She met his frown. “The women were…not killed immediately.”

  “Good Lord.” He stood and paced to the windows. The smoke from his cigar followed him. “I’d heard of these atrocities, but to listen to the telling.” He shook his head.

  Alice was confident he wouldn’t ask the question that burned in his mind. Had she been raped? A proper gentleman would never ask. He’d assume. She waited.

  He returned to his chair. His cigar had gone out. It sat cold and forgotten between his fingers
. “I’m sorry to make you retell these events. Isabelle was horrified at the bruises about your face last night. If she should learn about this.”

  “I won’t tell her.”

  “I’m grateful.” He nodded, took a draw on his unlit cheroot and set it aside with a grimace. “How did you manage to escape with your life?”

  Images and explanations swirled in her mind. She couldn’t tell him the truth. The look on Rasher’s face with the hilt of her cutlass protruding from his belly. Rummaging through the pockets of a dead man to retrieve her ring. “I-I… The Delmar was captured.”

  “A second ship? A Navy vessel?”

  “No, it was captured by the captain of the Scar—”

  A man burst into the study. Coat tails flying, red-faced. “Those thieving bastards! The Scarlet Night was sitting on our very doorstep and they let them get away.”

  Carlton Whitmore was on his feet at the intrusion. Alice’s heart dropped into her shoes.

  The man continued his rant. “The dolts had them. Sitting in Everett’s cove. Bold as brass, but by the time the alarm was raised in town and the fleet responded, the ship had vanished. They’d never dared come this close to land before. That whoreson, Quinn, has crossed a dangerous line this time. Bloody prick—”

  “Emerson.” Carlton Whitmore stepped to one side so the man could see Alice now standing behind him. “Show some decorum, man.”

  The man stopped short. He huffed a sharp breath and planted his hands on his hips. “I had no idea you were with someone.” The muscles in his jaw pulsed as he gathered himself. Pushing a hand through his unruly dark hair, he straightened, buttoned his jacket, and gave a polite nod in her direction. “I owe you a thousand apologies, miss.”

  Alice’s heart thrummed in her ears. Gavin. They were after him. He wouldn’t have been close to shore if not for her. She became light-headed.

  Carlton brought the man a finger of brandy. “Emerson Blake,” he waved a hand at her, “Alice Tupper.”

  Emerson set the drink aside and helped her to sit. “Mistress Tupper, I am a cad and an oaf. I’ve upset you.”

  “Alice, you’re not a well color,” Carlton insisted. “I’d offer you a drink of water, but all I have is brandy.”

  Reaching past a concerned Emerson Blake, Alice snatched his abandoned glass and swallowed its contents in one fiery gulp. The men exchanged astonished glances.

  “Mister Blake…a pleasure to meet you.”

  Carlton Whitmore’s eyebrows nearly knocked the wig from his head. A wide smile spread across Emerson Blake’s face. “Good Lord, woman, who the devil are you?”

  “I’m Alice Tupper. I’m the Whitmore’s new governess. And the reason why the Scarlet Night was so close to your shores.”

  “Bloody hell.”

  Carlton Whitmore poured them all a drink. “Of all the ships. The Scarlet Night is reputed to have the most vicious murderers and thieves there are. They pluck whole ships from the seas.”

  Emerson continued. “And there have been new reports. I was due a dozen new slaves last week. Quinn is said to be attacking the slave ships now and liberating the cargo.”

  Alice balked at his use of the word cargo to describe those poor men and women of the Delmar. “If you had seen the way those poor souls were treated aboard that ship, perhaps you’d understand why—”

  “What I understand is Gavin Quinn and the crew of the Scarlet Night are operating outside their Letters of Marque and Reprisal. They’re no longer under the protection of the crown. In fact, the price on all their heads is growing daily.” Emerson moved to stand by the windows.

  Alice set her drink aside, this one untouched. She needed to keep her wits about her and answer their questions without giving them any more ammunition against Gavin.

  Carlton leaned forward in his chair. “You’re speaking a bit like their champion, my dear girl. Surely you can’t be defending these men? After the way they treated you? Your bruises.”

  Emerson spun to look at her. “They beat you?”

  “No.” A growing sense of panic began in her belly. She wasn’t going to change these men’s minds regarding Gavin. They had already tried and convicted him. No matter what she told them, Gavin was still a pirate. And a pirate who was personally interfering with their way of life.

  Emerson came to stand over her. “Are you asking us to believe a band of murderous cutthroats suddenly gained a conscience when you arrived? I don’t believe it. There’s no need to hide the truth from us.”

  “Emerson, the girl has been through enough. I don’t wish to have her relieve the horrors that befell her. We have all the facts we need to gather our own conclusions.”

  “I’m sorry, Mistress Tupper. Carlton is correct. You don’t need to explain your ordeal. Tell me this, where is the Scarlet Night headed?”

  “I have no idea,” she lied.

  He raised an eyebrow. “They didn’t mention anything? A direction? A port?”

  “If they did, I don’t remember. Captain Quinn just wanted me off his ship.” At least in that she spoke the truth.

  Emerson and Carlton met each other’s eye and gave a satisfied nod. “Well then,” continued Carlton, “we’ll not speak of it again. I’ll pass what little information you’ve given us on to the authorities. I trust they’ll not wish to interview you themselves unless we can think of something else.”

  “Thank you, Mister Whitmore. I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful. I’d really like to put it all behind me and be grateful I’ve arrived. A bit battered and bruised, but alive.” Alice stood and smoothed her skirts. “Mister Blake….”

  He took her offered hand and kissed the backs of her fingers. “I must say, Mistress Tupper, I can’t remember a time when I’ve met such a fascinating woman. I look forward to getting to know you better. Perhaps I can cajole Carlton into a few dinner invitations.”

  Alice left the study on shaky legs. Once in the foyer she leaned back against the closed door. Through the crack in the door, she heard Emerson Blake question Carlton, “Those bloody bastards stole our slaves. She has to know something. Do you believe her?”

  “I don’t know. She obviously suffered unspeakable horrors. You saw the way she went down when you mentioned them. I say give the foolish girl some peace. In time, maybe she’ll remember something that will help us stretch a few necks.”

  Alice pushed away from the door and hurried back upstairs to her rooms. She checked the lock on the armoire. Dropping into a chair, she put her face in her hands and stifled a sob. They wanted to hang Gavin. Thank goodness he slipped away. With any luck he was far, far from here.

  Carlton Whitmore had to believe she didn’t have any more information. If he learned the whole truth, what would he do? Ordered her shot at dawn? She was no better than any other member of the Scarlet Night. She had helped free those slaves and killed a man in cold blood. Killed more men in battle. And, she was in possession of stolen gold from a Spanish merchant ship. Could she be any more of a pirate?

  Above all the rest, she had fallen in love with Gavin Quinn, pirate captain. A wanted criminal. Carlton had called him vicious and ruthless. To her he was neither of those things. Even though he broke her heart, she feared for his life. She feared for her own should anyone discover her secrets. And while part of her longed to look into Gavin’s steely gray eyes again and revel in the strength of his arms about her, the other part of her was willing him to go as far from her as he could get.

  Chapter 22

  Gavin paced the decks. For the last twenty-four hours he’d done little but look over his shoulder. He’d evaded half the British fleet to get away from the eastern shores of Virginia. It was fortunate for him, he knew where they’d look, it meant they’d never find him.

  He’d sailed the Scarlet Night through the Needle’s Eye. Water washed from the sea through a narrow, hidden channel protected by rocky shoals into an unknown cave known as the Needle’s Eye. Inside, the space opened into a skylit
cavern large enough for a dozen ships their size. A fool’s gamble at low tide, it was just wide enough for the Night. Navy warships were far too wide in the berth to follow them even if they had known of its location, and only one way in made it easy to defend should anyone be lucky enough to stumble upon them. The only other captain who knew about this particular hiding place was busy living his new life as a lord in Weatherington, England with his wife, Annalise.

  Slipping in two steps ahead of the British, the Scarlet Night spent the night tucked into the high-walled cave. A few days there would have guaranteed the British dogs chased their tails, but food was in short supply, and without the proper materials to fix the damn front mast, they were riding heavy and slow. They had to slip past unawares and make their way to a protected port before they were forced to start roasting bilge rats.

  Leaving on the first tide, luck had been on their side. The winds were strong coming from the west. They set course due south and headed toward the Caribbean.

  Unease crawled over the ship as they left Virginia. The crew was uglier than usual, and the ship was limping. Gavin’s own temper was quick to ignite. He relieved the helmsman and took the wheel. Gripping the thick wooden pegs, he gathered a small measure of command when everything else seemed out of his control.

  They’d lost Bump for a time. Gavin hadn’t seen the boy for hours. He feared he’d fallen overboard without anyone’s notice. He’d called a ship-wide search. No one could locate the boy.

  Gavin had finally found him curled up tight under Tupper’s cot. It was the third time he’d looked for him in her spit of a room. He’d found her book the first time. The second time, he’d been blindsided by the memory of kissing her there. He was at his wit’s end when he searched for the third time, but there Bump was. Had he been there the entire time?

  The boy was miserable, and Gavin didn’t know what to do to comfort the lad. How do you explain with no words? Frustration raged. Why the hell did he take on the role of nursemaid anyway? He missed her as much as anyone, dammit. The child needed to learn the cold, hard facts of this life. This was a pirate ship, not a lady’s parlor. Life was hard and brutal, and the sooner Bump learned that the better.