In the glittering main ballroom, the musicians made ready for the dancers. Catherine braced herself for the next of her punishment. She knew without a doubt that duMont would lead her to the floor, making a suitable spectacle of them both. At the thought her face burned with anger and the heat of tears pricked at her eyes. Catherine turned away from her companion and shifted the great pendant uncomfortably; its bulky weight pressed against her collar bone like a prisoner’s chain, a constant reminder of her bondage. A slight touch at her elbow made her jump, making the pendant bounce heavily against Catherine’s heart. She turned, expecting duMont, but to her amazement she was met by the smiling face of her uncle.
“Matthews!” Catherine cried with abandon, throwing herself into his arms with no thought of propriety. “Catherine! My own dear girl” he replied warmly. The lieutenant lifted her off of her feet in an enormous hug and spun her in a circle. Catherine laughed aloud with relief and joy, unconcerned by the many looks they were receiving. “How do you come to be here?!” she cried delightedly. “I had no thought that we might meet tonight!” Matthews gave her a good natured grin; “Do you not think a polished officer such as me is a fine addition to a party?” he asked laughingly. Catherine gave him another embrace but was pulled away almost at once. Philippe duMont stood behind her, his hand firmly upon her arm, a grim smile on his face as he took in the sight of Lieutenant Matthews.
“I do not believe we have been properly introduced,” Matthews said to duMont with great charm. “I am Lieutenant Robert Matthews, Catherine’s uncle.” He gave a sweeping bow, doffing his bicorn with relish. Catherine stared in surprise at her uncle’s welcoming speech and generous manner with duMont. Something was amiss here but she could not tell what. What game was her uncle playing at? Philippe duMont seemed to have similar suspicions, but surrounded by curious onlookers, he had no option but to match Lt. Matthews’ courtesy: “It is a great pleasure to meet Catherine’s uncle, and such a brave sailor of His Majesty’s Navy” duMont returned with a forced smile.
The musicians now began to play in earnest and several couples moved to the floor in unison. Catherine stiffened anxiously but relief was at hand: “Catherine, my dear” Matthews said loudly, “I believe our intended dance aboard HMS Triton was forgotten when those French knaves hove in view and we had to give chase!” Catherine could feel duMont bristling beside her at Matthews’ words. The lieutenant made no apology and continued cheerily: “Well, there is nothing to stop us now, my fine girl. Come take a turn with your uncle!” and with that, Lieutenant Matthews led Catherine away from duMont before he could offer any protest.
When she reached the dance floor Catherine had to stifle the urge to laugh. At the side of the room duMont stood glaring; in front of her danced Uncle Matthews, grinning like the cat who swallowed the canary. The two things were so incongruous that she could only smile. As they passed one another in the steps of the dance, Uncle Matthews leaned toward her and whispered with urgency; “You must attend to what I say Catherine and all will be well.” Catherine looked sharply at her uncle, his words the echo of what Captain Knight had said just the day before. “Look sharp!” Matthews said, forcing a smile to his face and nodding at her to do the same. Catherine managed to regain her composure and smiled with pretended cheer as they stepped lightly away in the rhythm of the dance. When the pattern brought them together once more, Catherine looked to her uncle again. “My message is this,” Matthews said quickly. “You must keep dancing. Whatever else happens tonight you must stay on the dance floor and out of reach of your father and duMont.” Catherine looked at her uncle completely perplexed: “I will try, Uncle Matthews, but how? Are we to dance together like this all evening? I have no other acquaintance in the room.” she asked in confusion. Before he could answer they were parted in the final steps of the quadrille. When they came together to bow farewell her uncle was smiling broadly; “You are not alone, Catherine. Tonight you are surrounded by friends.”
With those quizzical words, Matthews turned her around slowly and Catherine was met with the pleasant sight her old friend, Doctor Lyons. “May I have the pleasure of this next dance?” the gentleman said with a sincere bow. Catherine nodded her acknowledgement, astonished at his presence and by Matthews’ deft handling of her transfer. Monsieur duMont had been approaching them with great speed but before he could give protest, Catherine was whirled away in a cotillion by the ship’s good doctor. Matthews in turn stopped duMont and, with gracious manners and friendly generosity, began to talk endlessly about his ship, his many voyages, and a variety of other useless details that duMont cared for not in the least.
Philippe duMont bore the lieutenant’s conversation with little grace, watching Catherine as a wolf follows its prey. As the dance was drawing to a close duMont attempted to excuse himself but Lieutenant Matthews was prepared. Just as Doctor Lyons gave Catherine a polite bow of farewell, one of the Triton’s lieutenants stepped forward claiming the honor of a dance with the lovely Catherine. Doctor Lyons now joined Matthews and the two ceaseless conversationalists held duMont captive once more.
Over and over, the same ridiculous scene played out on the ballroom floor. Monsieur duMont would struggle to free himself from Matthews’ lavish attention only to find Catherine engaged yet again by what seemed an endless supply of lieutenants, first mates, doctors and midshipmen from HMS Triton. On the dance floor, Catherine delighted in the arrival of each new face. To be reacquainted with these brave men would be welcome on any occasion but tonight it was doubly so. In their familial embrace she felt safe once more, her spirits lifting with hope. And so Catherine danced, whirling about the floor without pause, obeying her uncle to the letter.
It did not take Monsieur duMont long to see the ruse that had been set by Matthews. As the succession of partners continued without abatement, duMont felt his careful control slipping away. He tried to clear his angry thoughts and formulate a plan but he could not think with the indomitable Matthews at his ear, ceaselessly chattering like an errant bird. At last duMont’s firm resolve snapped and he stepped angrily away from Matthews. “Enough!” he said heatedly, much to the amusement of curious onlookers. With great haste, duMont turned on his heel and departed the ball room, desperate to find William Gibson. Something very wrong was going on and they needed to make a move at once.
Matthews watched duMont’s progress the length of the great room. When duMont stepped out of the ball room, the lieutenant gave a subtle nod to an officer of the Admiralty who had been casually lounging by the door. The officer disappeared at once, following duMont undetected as the Frenchman searched for Gibson. At almost the same instance, Matthews noted a gesture directed at him from across the ball room. He answered the summons with a firm nod of his head. With a final look at his niece, Lieutenant Matthews left the room in preparation for the events that would happen next.
On the dance floor, Catherine bowed farewell to her most recent partner, one of HMS Triton’s young lieutenants. Her injured ankle was beginning to throb from her exertions but she would not acknowledge it – she would follow her uncle’s instructions to the letter if it meant she had to dance all the way to the devil. Catherine looked to where her uncle was keeping duMont at bay, only to find neither man there. “What could have happened?” she whispered with worry. Catherine stiffened with dread as a hand touched her elbow. She turned round with slow foreboding, certain that the plan had failed and duMont had reached her at last.
Quite the opposite was true.
Before her was the most agreeable sight of Captain John Knight. With grateful eyes, Catherine took in the splendor of his immaculate uniform, its polished brass buttons and epaulettes shining bright in the glow of the chandeliers. Catherine raised her eyes to trace his handsome face, her heart singing as she took in each familiar detail; the dark eyes that shone with their customary brilliance, the lines around his mouth that accentuated firm lips, and the glossy waves of raven hair that framed his proud face. Knight looked down at Catherine from
his great height, his dark, serious eyes regarding her while she made her silent study. His mind captured every detail of her great beauty on this evening; the golden hair captured with roses at the nape of her neck, her ivory skin radiant against the white of her silk gown, her blue eyes that glistened like pools of water. Knight’s careful eye also took in the exquisite pendant that hung round Catherine’s neck. Catherine saw the questioning look that came into his face and she squirmed uncomfortably as his eyes met her own. She expected condemnation but was surprised instead to see Knight’s face break into a dazzling smile. As before, Catherine was caught off-guard by the brilliant transformation, like sun coming out from behind a cloud. An answering smile came to Catherine’s face, lighting her eyes more radiantly than the jewels that hung round her neck. Without a word, she took Knight’s arm and was led to the dance.
Every soul in the room was caught by the spectacle of Catherine in the arms of Knight. They made a handsome couple, to be sure – a beautiful, wealthy heiress and a brave, handsome captain. But more than this, something in the manner of their embrace, in the way their bodies moved and the looks they shared raised the curiosity of the crowd. Catherine was completely unaware of this scrutiny; the world and its worries had melted away and all that remained was the strength and solidity of Captain Knight.
They danced unspeaking a long time before Knight finally addressed her in low tones: “I hope the officers of HMS Triton have not tired you overmuch this evening?” Catherine’s sparkling laugh was his answer. Knight smiled with humor but a certain seriousness remained in his eyes. As the steps of the dance brought them together he leaned his head closer and asked earnestly; “Did you experience some… difficulty before leaving for the ball?” Catherine started at his question, wondering what had prompted the remark. Her face flamed in embarrassment as the heated scene with her father replayed in her mind’s eye. Knight noted her discomfort at once. His lips compressed in a thin line, and angry flames flickered in his dark eyes as he awaited her response. Catherine stumbled a moment for words, finally saying in a low voice: “There was some….. unpleasantness….. Between my father and I. We argued….. about M. duMont” she said with trembling voice; “But I do not understand how you can know?” she finished haltingly. Catherine looked into Knight’s face for answers; she could sense the tension within him and felt his protective hold tighten around her waist.
Captain Knight paused before replying; “I have been to your father’s house this evening” he said at last with stark simplicity. Catherine’s eyes widened. “The Admiralty went there looking for evidence of his crime” Knight continued, “and I assisted with the investigation. I discovered the state of your room while we were conducting our search. Catherine,” he breathed softly, “What happened in there? Have you been hurt” Catherine shook her head at the painful reminder. Even with Captain Knight standing by her side she could not speak of this evening’s events. The scars were too fresh, and the threat of danger still too immediate. Catherine turned her head and looked away with distress. Knight saw how his questions hurt her and he chided himself for doing so. As they turned in unison in the dance, Knight spoke again with quiet confidence; “Catherine, you need not be afraid. I will never let your father hurt you again, I promise.”
The final strains of music faded away and Catherine made a polite bow to Knight. She rose once more but could not meet his eyes. The promise he made was like a balm to the many hurts she had endured these past weeks, and yet, Catherine did not dare believe that it could be so. Knight stood before her, awaiting a response that did not come. He gently took possession of Catherine’s hand, determined that she should know and accept the truth of his words. Catherine looked up at last, fear and hope shining in her soulful eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but before she could begin, her attention was forced away by a strange, restless sound that rippled throughout the room. A growing murmur rose from the crowd and, in the distance, an angry voice shouted hateful invective that could be heard above all. Catherine recognized at once the voice of her father.
Turning at the sound, Catherine caught sight of what held everyone in startled fascination: a grim looking Philippe duMont being led through their midst, escorted by two officers of the Admiralty. Catherine turned to Captain Knight, questioningly. “Is it possible?” Catherine said with whispered hope; “Is duMont under arrest?” Captain Knight nodded in agreement; “Yes, duMont has been arrested. We found evidence of his collusion with the French. The ship we captured gave us some clues but the papers you uncovered, Catherine, set us on the path of discovery. A sizeable wharf had been constructed on a private, isolated section of the coastline. From there, duMont was furnishing the French with ammunition and weapons secretly obtained from Spain. The whole endeavor was happening within the heart of Britain’s own colony.” Catherine was astonished at the news. She knew duMont was capable of reckless behavior but this treasonous act was well beyond anything she imagined. Catherine looked once more to watch duMont’s progress; he caught her glance and gave a small mocking bow in reply. Catherine shuddered at the little act and turned away in disgust. Seeing her strong reaction, Captain Knight hesitated at what he must tell her next; “Catherine,” Knight said with quiet firmness “I am afraid there is more. In uncovering duMont’s deception we found your father had also been party to the entire affair. He is also under arrest and charged with treason.”
The words hung between them a long moment. Knight watched anxiously as many emotions played across her expressive face – shock, guilt, anger, and relief. Catherine blinked several times, trying to register the strange news. She knew her father had been involved in the secret scheme with duMont, knew he was guilty, but the truth still rocked her to the core. As she struggled to come to terms with what Knight said, the sound of her father’s angry shouts grew even louder. Catherine looked up in time to see him brought forth, apoplectic with rage, as the officers escorted him away. Catherine turned pale and trembled at the sight. Gibson was flailing like a mad man, turning every which way in his wrath. In one such turn, Gibson caught sight of his daughter standing in unison with Captain Knight. The mindless rant against his captors ceased only to turn against Catherine instead.
“You did this!” he shrieked with fury, “You did this to your own father, you horrible wretch! God damn your soul! God damn you to hell!” Shockwaves ran through the ballroom as his wrath fell upon his daughter. The words hit Catherine like a physical blow; she felt sick with fear and loathing. Catherine stumbled and fell backward, grateful to find Captain Knight’s solid presence behind her. Knight held her close as she attempted to regain her equilibrium. All the while, Gibson continued to pour hateful invective on his child: “You will pay for this, Catherine!” he shouted, “I will not let you get away with this!” With maniacal determination, Gibson swung wildly round, evading his captors at last. As the entire room watched in horror, William Gibson pulled a small pistol from his vest and raced to where Catherine stood.
Catherine felt time slow to a stop. All sound seemed to disappear. All that remained was her father bearing down upon her, and the cold reality of the gun. The terrified girl stood motionless, held captive by the awful spectacle before her. In slow motion she watched as this ruthless man moved closer, light glinting from the barrel of his gun as he raised it to take aim. Catherine closed her eyes in anguish, prepared for the inevitable conclusion that must come from the horrifying affair.
With sudden swiftness, Catherine felt herself moved roughly aside, and time resumed once more. She opened her eyes in surprise to find Captain Knight standing before her, shielding her with his own body. Catherine’s senses came flooding back to her, her mind racing in terror. She clutched at Knight’s arm, determined to save him from her father’s wrath.
A sudden, sharp report rang out. The gun had fired.
Catherine screamed in anguish. Her soul writhed in fear for Knight’s life. In torment she clutched at the captain, heart thundering in her chest. “No! No!” Catherine cried
softly, tears streaming down her face as she staggered forward to witness what she knew must have happened. As she stepped in front of Knight, Catherine’s dazed eyes tried to take in the truth of the scene before her; Captain Knight stood unharmed – his expression was grim but Catherine saw no sign of injury to his person whatsoever. In anguished relief Catherine sobbed and fell against his chest.
The momentary respite Catherine felt was quickly replaced by a sudden sharp realization. The captain remained rigidly at attention, his body stiff and unyielding under her touch. Catherine stepped back a pace from Knight and read his severe expression. She whirled around with wild eyes trying to understand his reaction. The grim reality of the scene lay before her. Less than ten feet away, dead on the floor, lay the body of William Gibson. And standing a few paces beyond, with smoking gun in his hand, stood her Uncle Matthews. Catherine surveyed the scene in silence, took a faltering step forward, and then fell to the floor unconscious.
Chapter XXII
The gentle motion of the waves gradually brought Catherine back to herself. She opened her eyes weakly to find a beam of light streaming in through a porthole window. Catherine looked around in confusion, unable to recognize her surroundings. Near her on a nightstand lay a wilted spray of roses, duMont’s necklace, and the combs that had bound her hair. As she took in the curious sight she realized that under the covers she was still dressed in her silk evening gown from the previous night. The pieces of the puzzle came together, clearing the fog that clouded Catherine’s mind, and she realized she was in her old berth aboard the HMS Triton. As swiftly as this realization came, the horrific scenes from last night came flooding back as well. Catherine gave a small moan of despair and covered her head with her hands.
Commanding Heart Page 13
