'I suspect they may not be quite the same as our bad dreams,' Anthony replied quietly.
'Not...why not?' Abigail locked her fingers together as she stared at Anthony.
'My nightmares, and probably yours, are about our own fate, about being helpless—enslaved,' Anthony said steadily. 'Gifford's nightmares—I think—ultimately revolve around the consequences for other people if he had failed.'
'Oh.' Abigail took a deep breath. 'Won't you tell me what happened?' she asked.
Anthony started from the beginning. He told her how the Unicorn had been sailing in company with another British frigate when two privateers had been spotted on the horizon. He told her of the brief, evenly matched battle between the four ships before Gifford had been knocked unconscious by flying debris. His fall had been witnessed by one of the lookouts on the other frigate. The other British captain had been instantly convinced of Gifford's death. Instead of remaining in the battle to provide support for the Unicorn, now fighting under the command of a relatively inexperienced first lieutenant, he'd withdrawn from the combat. No one on board the Unicorn had been aware of his flight until the smoke from a broadside had briefly cleared. Suddenly they had discovered they were facing the two enemy privateers alone.
Abigail pressed her hands to her cheeks in horror. 'That wasn't when he lost his eye?' she whispered. 'He said it was a great splinter.'
'No,' Anthony smiled reassuringly. 'He lost his eye years ago. He was only unconscious for a short while on this occasion. Long enough for the first lieutenant to surrender the Unicorn to the privateers, and for them
to take us all prisoners. Giff was a prisoner of one privateer captain, I was prisoner of the other—on separate ships.'
'Why?' Abigail didn't understand. 'Why did they do that? You must have been so worried about him...?'
'I was.' Anthony's expression became grim. 'It was two weeks before I discovered if he was living or dead.'
'Two weeks? Do you have nightmares about that?'
Anthony looked at her, but he didn't answer.
'Then your nightmares are not only about yourself either. You are like Gifford,' said Abigail firmly.
'Hardly.' Anthony gave a short, unamused laugh. 'Gifford was told if he made any attempt to escape, or recapture the Unicorn, I—and all the rest of the men who were prisoners on the same ship with me—would be killed. That's why they separated us—to use me as a weapon against him.'
'What did he do?' Abigail whispered, appalled.
Anthony told her how Gifford had waited until a storm had separated the three ships, then escaped and released his men before capturing the privateer and retaking the Unicorn.
'He is so resolute,' she said in awe. 'Only think how wonderful it must have been for his men when he released them. It must have seemed like a miracle to them—that he had found a way to rescue them.'
'They'd have sailed into hell with him after that,' Anthony said. 'Mind you, most of them would have done so even before that. It's marvellous how he held the hearts and loyalty of as rough a crew of men as you're ever likely to see. He's not an easy commander.
He doesn't give a damn about the men liking him. He doesn't have favourites. But they all believed in him. They all trusted him to lead them anywhere.'
'Of course they did.' Abigail saw Anthony's impassioned face through a haze of tears. She knew exactly how Gifford could inspire such devotion in another human being.
'I don't think he fully understands that.' Anthony smiled crookedly. 'Reasonable or not, he feels that he let us all down, that we should never have been taken prisoners at all.'
'How can it be his fault?' Abigail exclaimed indignantly. 'He cannot be held responsible for what other men do when he isn't even conscious!'
'He would say that he is responsible, even so,' said Anthony, 'because he should have trained those men well enough that they know what to do in an emergency.'
'He thinks he's God!' Abigail said in exasperation. 'I said something similar not long ago,' Anthony agreed.
'What about you?' Abigail asked. 'What happened to you? Was it...was it very dreadful?' She put a hand to her throat, remembering the feel of the rope around her neck—in her nightmare and in real life.
'Physically my situation was not particularly uncomfortable,' said Anthony calmly. 'There were five of us altogether on the Unicom whom the privateers intended to sell to the American slave market.'
'Slaves...' Abigail pressed her hands against her lips and stared at Anthony.
'We were kept in irons, but otherwise in relatively clean, comfortable conditions,' he said, his voice absolutely flat. 'And exercised on deck every day to keep us in good health, to preserve our value at auction.'
'Oh, my God...' Abigail remembered Charles Johnson's taunts when he threatened to rape her, but ultimately preferred to keep her maidenhood intact to increase her price.
It was so hard to imagine the proud, intelligent man sitting opposite her, one of the finest men she'd ever known, kept in irons.
'It turned out to our advantage,' said Anthony. 'In the end.'
'Advantage ?'
He smiled faintly. 'When we were exercised we had an opportunity to observe and memorise a great deal about the privateer vessel and crew. One of my companions had been an apprentice locksmith until he was taken up by the press gang. One night while our guard was sleeping he managed to pick the lock on his manacles. Once he'd...dispatched...the guard, he freed us all. Then it was just a question of freeing the rest of the crew—who were being held prisoner in a different part of the ship. Then we took the ship.'
Abigail leant her head against the padded headrest. They were moving ever nearer to London, but she had no interest in the unfamiliar countryside rolling past the window. All her attention was on the man sitting opposite her.
'There is a very strong likeness between you and Gifford,' she said. 'From prisoner to conqueror. Both of you achieved the same thing.'
'The cases were not at all the same,' Anthony objected. 'I was able to escape only because of the skills of another man. There were five of us when we set out to rescue the other prisoners. Gifford freed himself by his own efforts, and released his men unaided. There is no comparison.'
Abigail looked at him through narrowed eyes. She understood Anthony believed what he was saying. She just wasn't sure if she believed it was true.
'What happened after you'd captured the ship?' she asked. 'You told me you're an artist, not a sailor. Were there officers with you?'
'One marine sergeant. He knew nothing of seamanship. But we were lucky. We had several extremely competent able seamen with us among the prisoners— including my locksmith friend. And an excellent quartermaster who'd often taken the helm of the Unicorn,' Anthony replied. 'His seamanship was superb.'
'So you sat and twiddled your thumbs?' Abigail asked demurely.
Anthony grinned. 'Taking the ship was only the first stage in the plan,' he said. 'None of us were going to let it rest there. The big problem, given our reduced crew, was how we could possibly recapture the Unicorn and rescue Giff. Fortunately Giff rendered all our plans unnecessary. But there was a very tense couple of hours when we spotted the Unicorn sailing down on us. We were very relieved when we thought she'd suffered storm damage. We thought it would give us more time to make our move.'
To Abigail's surprise, Anthony suddenly began to laugh.
'After all the high drama of the previous few days, the climax was almost farcical!' he exclaimed. 'Both of us—Giff and I—intended to board the other under cover of darkness. We both had our decoy privateer prisoners visible on deck, terrorised into going about their normal business, in an attempt to allay any suspicions of foul play. Neither of us were anxious to come within hailing distance until close to nightfall— but both of us tried to look as if we were eager to regain contact. I have seldom played a more interesting game of chess.'
'How did you resolve it?' Abigail asked, amused and intrigued by the notion of the cousins trying to
outwit each other on the high seas. Anthony had just, possibly unintentionally, revealed that though the quartermaster had been responsible for handling the ship, he had been in overall command.
Anthony grimaced, looking annoyed. 'It was an obvious and simple mistake—though perhaps understandable given our shortage of able seamen,' he said. 'One of Gift's lookouts spotted my locksmith friend in the rigging. Giff was surprised there was a black seaman working freely among the privateers—given their anxiety to turn a quick profit. There weren't any blacks in either of the privateer crews. There were a few more manoeuvres after that—but it all ended peacefully.'
'Thank you for telling me,' said Abigail. 'It is such an amazing story. I think you are both heroes. I am sorry you have bad dreams. Do you...do you often have them?'
'Not so often now,' Anthony assured her. 'I dreamt sometimes of finding myself on the auction block
though of course that never happened to me—but the dream comes less often now.'
'So did I,' Abigail whispered. 'I felt the rope and I saw those men...but it was just a dream. We are safe. You and Gifford rescued me. And you—you rescued yourself. I'm sure you inspired your companions to take effective action, just as you say Gifford inspired his crew. It doesn't matter whether you were the one who knew how to pick the lock—you were the one who had the resolution and determination to succeed. I'm sure of it!' She smiled dazzlingly at him.
Anthony caught his breath. Whether Giff was fully aware of it or not, he was a very lucky man. Abigail had all the courage, generosity and loyalty a man could seek in a wife.
'Be patient with him,' he said abruptly.
'Gifford?' Abigail looked startled.
'He feels more than he can easily express,' said Anthony. 'But he is not insensitive to...softer emotions. He enjoyed your music'
'My music? How could he? I've never—'
'We heard you playing the pianoforte through the open window, the evening before Miss Wyndham died,' Anthony explained. 'It was a splendid performance. I'm looking forward to hearing you play again, when we reach London. There's a fine instrument in the house in Berkeley Square.'
'There's also Gifford's brother, and his sister-in-law,' Abigail replied, feeling a spurt of apprehension at meeting two important strangers under such unsettled circumstances.
'They'll like you,' Anthony said confidently. 'And I believe you will like them. Cole can be something of a gruff soldier—but you are growing used to the Raven tendency to issue orders by now. Honor's first husband was a soldier in Cole's regiment. When he was injured they were left behind the column. She carried her husband on her back towards safety, and then shot a wolf with his musket before Cole found them and took them to safety.'
'Good heavens!' Abigail exclaimed, daunted by Anthony's description of Gifford's sister-in-law. 'She must be very brave and...' She hesitated. The word hovering on her lips was formidable, but it didn't sound a very flattering thing to say about a lady she'd never met.
'She is brave. You have a great deal in common in that respect,' Anthony said. 'Cole and Honor only returned to England from the Peninsula a few months ago. She is still adjusting to her new life here. I think she will be glad to make a new friend.'
'I hope so,' said Abigail nervously. 'I'm flattered you enjoyed my music,' she added, remembering she had not thanked Anthony for his earlier compliment on her playing, 'you must have heard many much finer performances.'
'Perhaps executed with more technical skill—but not with any greater feeling for the music,' Anthony replied, smiling. 'You have great feeling for the music'
'Oh. Thank you.' Abigail appreciated his compliment all the more for its honesty. She knew her fingers weren't always as agile as she'd like them to be. fell
me about the concerts you've attended—the musicians you've seen?' she requested.
For the next few miles Anthony entertained her with accounts of concerts he'd attended before he'd sailed on the Unicorn with Gifford. To Abigail's delight she discovered she had seen at least one of the same performers. George Bridgtower, a celebrated virtuoso violinist, had given a concert in the Pump Room which Abigail had been fortunate enough to attend.
Anthony had seen the violinist perform several times. For many years Bridgtower had been first violinist in the Prince Regent's private orchestra, performing often at the Pavilion in Brighton.
'I heard Beethoven wrote a sonata for him, and they performed together in Vienna,' Abigail said.
'That is so, though unfortunately the two men fell out afterwards,' Anthony replied ruefully. 'But Mr Bridgtower is an exceptionally gifted musician. I very much enjoyed it when I had an opportunity to speak with him. A most rewarding experience,' he said, smiling at what was obviously a pleasant memory.
It occurred to Abigail that Anthony's meeting with George Bridgtower might have held particular significance for him. Like Anthony, the violinist was of mixed parentage—Bridgtower was the son of a Polish mother and a West Indian father. Anthony's meeting with the musician must have given him a rare opportunity to talk to someone with whom he had more in common than simply a love of great music.
'I didn't attend as many concerts as I would have wished in Bath,' Abigail said. 'But I'm glad Miss Wyndham persuaded one of her friends to escort me
to that one. I hope I will be able to see many different musicians perform when I am in London,' she added hopefully. 'Do you suppose Gifford would like to attend a concert with me?'
Anthony grinned. 'If you ask him,' he replied. 'I do believe Giff might even brave the horrors of the concert hall for your sake.'
Chapter Fifteen
'Oh , my goodness!' Abigail breathed, somewhat overawed by the impressive facade of the house in Berkeley Square.
Of course she knew Gifford was wealthy. She'd even taken advantage of that fact when she'd been seeking suitable positions for Miss Wyndham's staff. But she was far more familiar with him in his guise of overbearing pirate—a man who wasn't above washing his own shirt in a bucket should the need arise—than as the owner of such a grand house.
'What's the matter?' Gifford had just assisted her from the carriage. He looked down at her in concern.
'Nothing,' she assured him, clinging to the support of his arm a few seconds longer. 'What a very fine house.'
'My father liked it,' said Gifford, leading her up the steps. 'I hope you—ah, Kemp!' he broke off as the door was flung open. 'How are you?'
'All the better now you've won my bet for me, sir! Excuse me, sir! Ma'am.' The butler cast a wary, apologetic glance at Abigail. 'I'm afraid I forgot myself. Major and Mrs Raven are in the blue drawing room.'
'Kemp, this is Miss Summers,' Gifford introduced her cheerfully. 'She'll be staying with us. The baggage is in the second carriage. We'll go straight up to my brother and sister-in-law. Oh, and Kemp,' he added, as the butler turned towards the front door, 'I'm glad my failure to remain in Bath an entire month has put you in pocket.'
'I forgot all about your bet!' Abigail whispered as they mounted the grand staircase. 'Does rescuing me count as an adventure?'
'I'm afraid so,' said Anthony, from two treads below them. 'I'm still awaiting settlement. I'm not sure who was foolish enough to take Kemp's wager!'
'Oh, but that's not fair!' Abigail stopped on the stairs, turning to glance between the two men. 'It was a rescue, not an adventure! He didn't walk on stilts through the Pump Room, or anything!'
'You consider stilt-walking adventurous?' Gifford raised his eyebrow.
'I couldn't think of a more appropriate example on the spur of the moment,' Abigail said impatiently. 'You know what I mean. I don't think this should count,' she continued earnestly to Anthony. She might be at odds with Gifford, but she still wanted him to receive fair play. 'He didn't do anything at all adventurous until I was abducted, and that wasn't his fault. I think he should be given another chance. I'm sure he is quite capable of spending a month in Bath without having an adventure.'
Anthony grinned. 'But th
e fact remains that he didn't,' he pointed out. 'Not only that, even before he
rescued you he behaved in ways liable to call adventure down upon him.'
'He didn't!' Abigail said indignantly. 'When did he do that? He was very well behaved.'
Anthony laughed.
Gifford glared at them. 'May we proceed?' he said stiffly.
'I still think you should have another chance,' Abigail told him, but she did walk up a few more steps.
She stopped abruptly and swung round again, swaying slightly on the wide staircase. Gifford's arm shot out to support her.
'Does Kemp know what happened?' she whispered anxiously, looking down into the hall, where the butler was supervising the arrival of their luggage.
'Only that I didn't manage to spend a full month in Bath,' Gifford reassured her gently.
'Oh. Oh, good.' Abigail half-turned to continue ascending the stairs. Then she looked back at him. 'W-what about your brother?' she whispered. 'And...and Mrs Raven? Do...do they...?'
Gifford shook his head.
'Well, then.' Abigail touched the brim of her bonnet nervously, then smoothed her hands over her skirts. 'That's good,' she said firmly, though her smile wavered uncertainly. 'I am looking forward to meeting them.'
Gifford took her hand in a reassuringly firm grasp. He drew it through his arm and led her up the stairs to the drawing room.
Abigail was grateful for his strong, confident presence at her side. She couldn't help being apprehensive
about the forthcoming introductions. From Anthony's descriptions, Cole and Honor Raven sounded a most formidable couple. Abigail could hardly believe they would consider her an appropriate wife for Gifford.
The first, rather frivolous, thought she had as she entered was that the blue drawing room was indeed blue. Then she saw a tall, powerfully built man stand up at their entrance and forgot all about the furnishings. He was an impressive figure, almost as tall as Gifford. Unlike Gifford he had brown hair, but he had the same fierce, piercing blue gaze. The similarity between the two brothers was unmistakable.
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