Heart of Fragile Stars (Rakes & Rebels: The Beauvisage Family Book 1)

by Cynthia Wright

  “Are you able to read this, my studious dove? I can only recognize a couple of words from the last line: ‘only’ and ‘you’.”

  She leaned closer, captivated by the ancient sword with its darkened, pitted blade and decorated, ivory hilt. She longed to touch it, but something caused her to keep her distance. The Latin words were engraved on the blade, but time and use had made all but a few illegible.

  “Yes,” she replied, “I can tell you that the last phrase, Cum tantum somnium vestrum means With dreams only of you.” Even as she spoke the words, Antonia sensed a deep memory of hearing or saying them before. A little shiver ran down her spine. “I can also discern the name Theodosia.” She pointed. “I wonder who that is? Or could it be a place? If only we could read the rest of the engraving! I wish we didn’t have to cast it into the sea.”

  “Are you?” He stared at the gladius for a long moment, then shook his head. “I think Maman may have the right idea. I don’t believe in curses, but this relic has inspired a great deal of fear and subterfuge among my de Reyne relatives who have believed. We can put an end to that tonight.”

  Jean-Philippe turned away, carrying the gladius across the cabin. Near the doorway, he paused to glance back over one broad shoulder, an eyebrow arched questioningly.

  Antonia lifted her skirts and rushed to his side. “Yes, of course I want to come!”

  * * *

  At precisely eight o’clock, Pursuit’s sand glass emptied and was turned over as the quartermaster struck the ship’s bell to announce the time. However, before the watch could change, Beauvisage asked all the men to go below until further notice.

  It was a beautiful evening. Even as the sun sank toward the calm sea, a full moon was visible overhead.

  Antonia felt strangely wistful as Jean-Philippe handed her up to the quarterdeck and she followed him to the rail. A soft breeze caused the lace edging her sleeves to flutter. She looked at the sword’s hilt of ivory with its simple yet decorative bands of bronze and wondered about the Roman warrior who had first clasped it in his hand. Had he been responsible for the words etched on the blade? And who was Theodosia?

  “If we could read the engraving, it might tell us so much more,” she mused.

  “Perhaps, but it wouldn’t change the fact that my mother made me vow that I would throw it into the ocean.”

  “And have you never gone against your mother’s wishes? Was it her idea that you become a pirate?”

  He gave her a look of mocking disbelief. “You are a minx, but you may have a point.”

  “It’s just that, I feel that it is a mistake to throw it away. I can’t really explain it, but my heart aches when I imagine this beautiful sword, with all its history and secrets, on the ocean floor.”

  “My darling, I cannot imagine why you should care. Besides, if it is cursed, you should be the first one to want it as far away as possible.”

  With that, he raised the gladius with both hands and held it up over the rail.

  “Wait! Let me at least touch it first.” Antonia put out her hand, surprised to see that her fingers were trembling slightly. Perhaps Jean-Philippe was right. What if the sword was cursed? Even touching it might prove disastrous.

  “Tonie…”

  “No, please wait.”

  At the instant her fingers made contact with the cool, oxidized metal of the blade, everything changed. A molten current of energy that was pure and good flowed into her body and the effect was so powerful that she drew back in shock.

  “You see?” he asked. “Given your fragile emotional state, you shouldn’t get near this relic. I may not believe in curses, but I can admit that there are things beyond my understanding.”

  For a long moment, Antonia could only lean against the rail with her eyes closed as waves of what might be love swept through her body, heart, and soul. When she could remember to open her eyes again, she saw Jean-Philippe’s concerned face.

  “No, it’s all right,” she whispered. She realized that she was smiling.

  “What is it? Come and sit down.”

  “I’m fine.” And with that, she purposely touched the gladius again. Yes, it was love that streamed into her, pure love and a deep sense of trust in the future. As her eyes closed again, Antonia felt the presence of other spirits…perhaps those who had believed in the true power of the sword in centuries past.

  And then the ancient blade seemed to warm beneath her fingertips and she felt the embrace of her beloved parents as they set her free to find a new life.

  When she opened her eyes and withdrew her hand from the sword, Antonia’s cheeks were wet with tears of joy.

  “Jean-Philippe, you must promise me that you will not cast the gladius into the ocean! Believe me, it is a force for love and it must return to England to find its destiny.”

  Quite suddenly, she realized that the sense of foreboding was gone, replaced by light, hope, and trust. And even though her eyes had been closed, the tiny stars had not appeared…

  Antonia leaned against the man of her dreams, filled with peace for the first time since the fire. And gazing up at the sky, she saw that the stars were there in their proper places, winking back at her.

  “Will you do this for me?” she asked him again. “Will you see to it that the gladius returns to England?”

  Jean-Philippe hesitated. “I have never broken a promise to my mother.” He looked out to sea for a moment then brought Tonie close into his embrace. His tone lightened. “However, if you tell me it must be so, I will find a way. In fact, I know just the person to take it there…”

  Chapter 9

  The night was completely still. The sea was black and the sky was indigo with a dusting of stars as the quartet silently rowed in the direction of a massive, becalmed merchant ship.

  It had taken Beauvisage two full days to track Conquerer in the Atlantic Ocean. He knew that Ormond had been charting a course for the Colonies, but with a broken mast and shredded staysails to repair, they would be days behind schedule.

  Once Lieutenant Malle had sighted the frigate just after sunset that very night, they had run up British colors in the hope of allaying any suspicions Ormond might have if his men spotted Pursuit from a distance.

  Now, as the cargo-laden long boat moved soundlessly through the inky water, Beauvisage looked at the members of his tiny boarding party. Pierre was there, of course, handling the oars. He was assisted by Barnes, the sailmaker’s mate who had defected from Conquerer. Not only was the youth well acquainted with the frigate’s dark passageways, he also professed to know the habits of the men who stood mid-watch in the dead of night.

  The fourth member of the party gave him a tiny nudge. Reluctantly, Beauvisage turned slightly and looked into Tonie’s sparkling green eyes. A beautiful smile lit her face.

  “Shh.” He warned. The sound was quieter than a whisper and he laid a finger over her mouth in case she should dare to reply.

  It was still difficult for him to believe he had let her talk him into joining them tonight. Pierre had been aghast, accusing his captain of succumbing to feminine wiles, but somehow it had made perfect sense when she presented her case.

  “I know Father Jozef and I can persuade him to come with us quietly,” she’d explained while sitting on his lap in his favorite chair. “And, even if that were not the case, I am the only person who can communicate with him, since we both speak Russian.”

  “Those reasons cannot convince me to risk your life,” he had said. “It would be madness.”

  “Jean-Philippe, kindly attend me.” Tonie had put her hand on his rough cheek and gazed into his eyes. “Ever since the night of the fire, when I lost my mother and my home, I have felt powerless over my own destiny. If I go with you back to Conquerer and help with your mission, I will be reclaiming my ability to affect outcomes. Can someone like you, who takes life by the throat and bends it to your will, possibly understand what it’s like to be robbed of that?”

  Looking into her eyes, he had realized how much
stronger she was growing by the day. In that moment, Beauvisage had felt a deeper connection with her than he could have ever imagined.

  “I understand,” he affirmed, “and I love you.”

  Any further doubts he had harbored then were dissolved in a series of intoxicating kisses, but now they returned twofold.

  There was nothing to be done, though. Tonie was here, sitting beside him in the long boat, clad in Pierre’s loose canvas trousers and short, dark jacket, with a kerchief tied around her pinned-up curls and a dagger tucked into a sash at her waist.

  I must be out of my mind, he thought, and one glance at Pierre told him that the cabin boy was in complete agreement.

  As the great frigate loomed up before them, Beauvisage brought himself sharply back to the moment. The entire scheme depended on stealth. If even one crewmember discovered them and sounded an alarm before he could be silenced, the plan was doomed.

  Each member of the quartet had a well-rehearsed part to play.

  As the long boat came alongside Conquerer, Barnes used the grappling hooks to soundlessly lock their smaller craft to the ship’s hull. Then, with infinite skill and strength, Beauvisage himself lightly tossed a second set of hooks, attached to a rope ladder, upward toward the rail. Only one hook caught, but that was enough.

  If there was any chance that someone had heard, they had no time to waste. His heart seemed to stop as he watched Barnes climb up first, dagger at the ready, and fasten the second hook in place. Pierre followed, similarly armed. It was torture to be left behind at such a crucial moment, but his first duty was to Tonie.

  The two young seamen returned within minutes, their exultant smiles visible in the moonlight.

  “We disabled them both, Captain,” Barnes whispered, still beaming. “I crept up on Cobling, who was standing the aft watch. He likes his grog, so it was easy enough to surprise him. He’s bound and gagged, hidden behind the after hatch.”

  “And I dispatched the other one,” boasted Pierre softly. “He did suffer a wound in his arm, but he’s tucked away as well. I feared for a moment that he would be able to cry out before I could bring him down, but Barnes got there in time to assist.”

  “Excellent,” Beauvisage approved in a voice that was barely audible. “Now it’s time for my lady and me to do our part. You two see to the cargo.”

  “And don’t forget about the gladius,” Tonie whispered urgently to Pierre. “That is the most important thing.”

  “I beg to differ,” Beauvisage murmured wryly as he lifted her out of the boat. “The priest is my first priority. I mean to wed you on the morrow, love, and claim my rights as your husband.”

  She paused with one buckled shoe on the rope ladder, reaching back toward him with an impudent smile. It seemed that she had never been more captivating than at that moment as she faced danger in her canvas breeches and kerchief.

  “Captain, I shall welcome you to my bed.”

  * * *

  Barnes had drawn a rough map of Conquerer’s berth deck and Jean-Philippe and Tonie had studied it together. During her own time onboard, she hadn’t been allowed to spend much time out of her cabin, but once she looked at the map, it all made sense.

  Now, the two of them went hand-in-hand past the crewmen who had been bound and gagged, then shed their shoes beside the main hatch and descended into blackness. Tonie felt terrified and exhilarated all at once, thrilled to be able to participate fully in such an adventure without being crippled by panic.

  According to Barnes, Father Jozef’s cabin was located immediately across the passageway from the one where she had been kept. When Jean-Philippe stopped outside the door, she had a moment of panic. What if this wasn’t right? Every cabin looked the same, especially in this gloom! Her heart pounded harder as she peered down the passageway toward the ship’s stern, where Ormond’s own cabin was located. How far away was he? Far enough to sleep through their sneak attack on his ship?

  As if reading her thoughts, Jean-Philippe caught her up in his arms and gave her a scorching kiss. Sweet madness! she thought giddily. There could be no doubt: her fearless pirate would win the day!

  Jean-Philippe set her down with a jaunty smile and turned to the door. There was no sound as he lifted the latch. Once they stepped into the tiny cabin, Tonie realized that they had an advantage because their vision had adjusted to the darkness. On the bunk, she could see the outline of Father Jozef’s belly beneath the blanket, his long, dark beard rising and falling with each rumbling breath.

  Antonia drew the kerchief from her head and her curls fell around her shoulders. She went to the side of the bunk, and when Jean-Philippe closed the door and nodded to her, she gave the priest a gentle shake.

  “Do not cry out, Father,” she said softly in Russian, and put her delicate hand over his mouth, fully prepared to stuff the scarf into his mouth if he disobeyed. She could see his wild eyes in the shadows and soothed, “Don’t be alarmed. It is I, Antonia Varyshkova! We have come to take you away to a ship where you will be far happier and more comfortable than you are here. My betrothed will take us both to the American Colonies.”

  Jean-Philippe joined her, kneeling at the side of the bed. “Tell him that I love you and mean to make you a worthy husband. It is imperative that he join us to perform our wedding.”

  A wave of joy swept over Tonie and this time she was able to give herself to it without reservation. Tears stung her eyes as she translated his words for Father Jozef, adding, “We must hurry, before Ormond discovers us!”

  Apparently the Russian priest had decided it would not serve him to resist. He allowed them to help him to his feet, but reached into his open chest to retrieve a black cassock and place the stiff kamilavka on his head.

  Tonie forced herself to breathe deeply with every second that passed, fearful that Ormond was about to appear in the passageway and give the order to kill them all. Once Father Jozef was dressed, she held his arm and they followed Jean-Philippe.

  Out the door they went, hurrying down the passageway as fast as the rotund priest could go. She saw Pierre and Barnes peeking anxiously through the main hatch, and as Jean-Philippe urged the priest up the ladder, Pierre reached down to grasp the Russian’s hand.

  Tonie was about to follow when the sound of footsteps reached her ears.

  “All hands on deck!” It was Ormond, shouting hysterically. “Sound the alarm, you fools! Battle stations!”

  Her heart was in her throat, pounding like a bass drum. In the distance, she saw him, running through the darkness in his pale dressing-gown.

  “Sang Dieu,” cursed Jean-Philippe, but there was no hint of panic in his voice. He seemed to lift her through the air, up the ladder, and out into the night air with one easy movement.

  “They come!” cried Father Jozef, clearly in a panic.

  “You must run,” she urged. “Hurry!”

  Barnes and Pierre each had one of the priest’s arms and they nearly brought his feet clear of the deck as they rushed toward the rope ladder. As they all reached the rail, Tonie saw the booty that had been returned to Conquerer. It was neatly stacked in the middle of their escape route, the jeweled, gold box containing the medieval illuminations right in front where Ormond could see it.

  At the last moment she saw the gladius, balanced rather precariously on the top chest of tea. Part of her longed to reach out and touch it one more time, to thank it for bestowing its secret on her at the time in her life when she needed it most.

  But there was no time. Conquerer’s sleepy crew was stumbling onto the deck as a shrill whistle continued to sound the alarm. Ormond himself burst out of the hatch then, waving his arms, screaming orders, a turban teetering sideways on his wigless head.

  The biggest challenge was getting Father Jozef down the rope ladder and into the boat with all possible speed. Tonie scrambled after him while Pierre and Barnes continued to urge the priest downward. She had just hopped safely into the boat beside the three men when it dawned on her that Jean-Philippe was not
following her.

  “Rest easy, love!” he called from above. “Sit down!”

  She looked up in dismay to see him still at the top of the rope ladder, sitting casually below the ship’s rail.

  “Pierre! Do something!” cried Tonie, but he and Barnes had already put their oars into the water and begun to row. “What are you doing? We can’t leave him! Stop, stop!”

  “My lady, did you not hear the Captain? Sit down and rest easy!” And with that, Pierre returned his attention to the task at hand.

  Stunned, Antonia sat down in the rocking boat beside the priest. As the oars dipped into the sea, water splashed in on her and she thought, It is out of my hands. She had bravely done all that she could and now she must trust the man she loved to somehow escape death at the hands of Ormond and return to her arms.

  High above them on the edge of Conquerer’s rail, Jean-Philippe cut a dashing figure. Ormond and his men came rushing into view, swords flashing, and Tonie swore she saw him laugh at them before he used his cutlass to sever the rope ladder from the sides of the ship.

  He truly was mad, it seemed, for as he stopped their enemies from following them, he was also disposing of his own means of escape!

  All her instincts called for her to cover her eyes so she wouldn’t have to witness the mortal blow Jean-Philippe would suffer from Ormond’s raised sword, and yet something deeper compelled her to watch. With a graceful power that took her breath away, Jean-Philippe perched on the rail for a mere instant and dove from the edge of the ship into the black ocean.

  As if they had done it a dozen times before, Pierre and Barnes deftly turned the boat and headed toward the spot where their captain had hit the water. Pistols fired now from the ship, narrowly missing their boat. Just as they rowed past, Beauvisage emerged from the deep like a force of nature. It was Tonie who leaned over the side of the boat to put out her hand to him.

  Never had she been more thrilled to see Jean-Philippe, cold and wet as he was, and quickly he was beside her in the long boat, laughing in exhilaration. He shook himself and droplets of salt water rained down on her and the hapless priest.