by Deborah Hale
“I’m sorry to trouble you, Doctor.” Simon bowed and prepared to hurry away to the gaol. “Good day.”
He was on his way out when another man arrived.
“Doctor Ellison?” Simon offered his hand and introduced himself. “I hear you have been out to treating an escaped convict.”
“A most extraordinary thing.” The doctor seemed in a daze. “I didn’t recognise the man at first. Then it came to me where I’d seen him before. I thought he must be dead—that’s what I told his sister, poor girl.”
“His…sister?” The word scoured Simon’s throat like shards of glass.
“Damn my hide!” Doctor Ellison clenched his lips together, too late to recall the words he’d spoken. “I told her I would keep her confidence—not that it matters much now, I suppose.”
To Simon’s bewildered look, the doctor replied, “The convict they captured was a crewman involved in the Dauntless mutiny a few years ago. When he stands trial for that, a lifetime of convict labour will seem merciful compared to the sentence he’s in for.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Are you certain of that?” Simon nearly choked on the words. “The fellow’s identity, I mean.”
Why did he even ask when he knew it must be true? It explained all his tiny suspicions about Bethan from the very beginning. What’s more, it made sense of everything she had tried to tell him last night. She’d admitted loving the man very much, yet she’d been outraged at Simon’s accusation that they were lovers. She said she’d been on the point of confiding in him when she had learned something that made it impossible.
He recalled their quarrel about whether mutineers deserved sympathy or the gallows. At the time, he’d been too infuriated and too haunted by returning memories to question what made her raise such an improbable subject. In hindsight, her motive was clear.
“Quite certain, I’m afraid,” replied the doctor. “I reckon Hugh Conway has been living under a false name ever since the Dauntless mutiny. The unfortunate irony is that I might never have known him if I had not been speaking about him so recently with his sister. I pity the poor devil. He doesn’t deserve to swing.”
“You mean he didn’t take part in what happened aboard the Dauntless?” Why did it matter? Ever since the Sabine, he’d believed one member of a mutinous crew was as guilty as the next and every one of them deserved the noose.
The doctor shook his head. “I never saw Conway raise a hand against anyone on that ship. He claims it was he who opened the hold allowing the officers and passenger to break free and attempt to regain control of the ship. I don’t know if that is true, but I do know someone opened that hold and I doubt anyone would have known of it except the man responsible.”
“Surely that will mitigate his sentence.” His pity for Bethan weighted heavily against his hatred of mutiny. To think that all her well-intentioned efforts might have brought about her brother’s capture and execution would devastate her vital, caring spirit.
“In another case it might.” Doctor Ellison looked beset with regrets. “But the late captain of the Dauntless came from a very powerful family. They were determined to have vengeance upon the crew, but few survived to stand trial. I doubt their thirst for blood was satisfied. I’ve promised Conway I will testify on his behalf, but I doubt it will help. I wish I’d held my tongue when I first recognised him. But it came as such a shock, I said far too much without considering the consequences.”
“Do not fret, sir.” Simon knew all too well the guilt that would gnaw at Dr Ellison if the man who might have saved his life was hanged because of his actions. “None of this is your fault. Now, I have detained you long enough. Thank you for answering my questions.”
What would he do now? Simon wondered a few moments later as he untethered and mounted his horse. Scarcely aware of what he was doing, he pointed the beast in the direction of Government Hill and jogged the reins.
He’d uncovered Bethan’s secret at last, but it was too late. If only he’d put aside his poisonous suspicions and really listened to what she was trying to tell him last night, he might have recognised what should have been glaringly obvious. It might not have changed Hugh Conway’s present situation, but at least Simon would have had the right to comfort Bethan and assist her in any way she might have asked. Instead he had failed her, as he’d failed the women of the Sabine, and Carlotta and even as his daughter for too many years.
A stray breeze carried the aroma of spices from the experimental garden, raising memories of the night he’d followed Bethan there. He’d begged her to heed his explanation. Generous creature that she was, she had listened, understood and forgiven.
But when she’d pleaded with him for understanding last night, he had refused, placing the responsibility on her shoulders by setting an impossible challenge. Perhaps if he’d been less harsh, less quick to condemn, less consumed with his past at the expense of their future, Bethan might have been able to confide in him. How could he blame her for being cautious in matters of love?
When he reached the top of Government Hill, Simon halted his horse beside the lofty signal flag pole and stared down at the settlement. The gaol that held Hugh Conway was so near the house where Bethan had spent the night. Had she heard yet of her brother’s capture? Or was she waiting and worrying, wondering what to do next?
More than anything, Simon wished she knew she could count on his help. But after last night, he was probably the last person in Singapore to whom she would turn. In that case, he would have to provide his assistance unasked.
Unfortunately, he could think of only one thing Bethan would want. And that was beyond his power to grant unless he wanted to risk his business, his fortune and his reputation. Everything he’d worked so hard to establish. Everything that proved his worth.
But in the end what did any of that matter if he could not use it in the service of the woman he loved? Was that something Ford and Hadrian had discovered when they returned to England? Somehow he knew his partners would approve his decision.
He must act quickly, though. The sun was rising steadily above the eastern horizon. If he waited too long, the news would be all over town and security at the gaol would be tighter.
He was not doing this to win back Bethan’s heart. After the way he’d treated her last night, Simon knew he did not deserve it. He’d been fortunate to have her in his life even for a little while—long enough to work her magic. All he wanted now was the privilege of helping fulfil the dream that had led her to him.
Sipping from a cup of rich, faintly bitter Java coffee, Bethan sat on the veranda of Simon’s old house and watched the Chulia boatmen manoeuvre their tongkangs around the crowded mouth of the river. Grief and worries jostled about in her heart, with no outlet.
Where was Hugh? Why had he not met her on the beach as they’d planned? How would he find her again, now that she had left Simon’s villa? Or should she go looking for him?
Wilson, Ralph and the other lads had been surprised by her sudden arrival last night, but they’d made her welcome and not asked too many questions, though their eyes blazed with curiosity. Now they were all off to work.
Bethan wondered if Simon had come to work yet. Would he ask the lads about her or would he just assume she’d left Singapore and good riddance?
She knew better than anyone how much she had hurt him. After he’d spent years guarding his heart, she had challenged him to trust and love again, even though she was keeping secrets from him that might force her to leave at a moment’s notice. Simon had claimed he wanted a mistress and a straightforward relationship based on simple desire. Yet everything he’d told her about his past pointed to a longing for true, lasting love that had been thwarted by his dread of betrayal.
With all her heart Bethan wished she could explain to him why she’d acted as she had. Though she was not tied to him by law or vow, her heart recognised a bond between them that she could never betray. But much as Simon’s happiness mattered to her, she could not put it ahead of h
er brother’s life.
Once they were safely away from Singapore, she would write to Simon and explain everything. For his sake and Rosalia’s, she would beg him not to let her mistakes blight his future happiness. She would urge him to take the risk of loving a better, wiser woman—one without so many hurts and secrets to spoil their life together. As for her, she doubted the world held many men as good as the one who’d almost been hers.
Approaching footsteps made her heart leap, only to fall again when she realised it was not Simon’s uneven gait.
“Pardon me, Bethan.” Wilson strode on to the veranda. “There’s a bit of news going round that I thought you might want to hear.”
His flushed face and anxious look told her the news was not good. Her fallen heart sank deeper. Had some harm come to Simon or Rosalia?
“The sepoys caught a convict on the loose last night.”
Hugh! Bethan cringed with shame that she had not thought of her brother first. But why would Wilson assume this was something she needed to know?
He did not keep her guessing. “They say the convict is not the man he claimed to be. They say he’s a Welshman named Conway who is wanted for taking part in a mutiny a few years ago. No relation of yours, is he?”
It took Bethan a moment to summon her voice. “Not that I know of. Conway is a very common name where I come from.”
Much as she hated to tell yet another lie, she needed to protect her friends. What they didn’t know could not incriminate them.
“I see.” It was clear Wilson didn’t believe her. He seemed puzzled and a trifle hurt that she would tell him such a blatant falsehood. “Sorry to bother you then. I just thought after you showed up last night out of the blue, it might have something to do with this. Anyway, I’d better head back to the office before Mr Grimshaw gets in.”
He turned and walked away, leaving Bethan shaken to the core. What could she do to help her brother now? After coming all this way to find him, it was her fault he’d been found out. She was certain nothing else could have made him risk slipping out of custody at night. But how had his true identity have been discovered? Had the doctor betrayed her confidence or had Captain Flynn become suspicious of her questions about the Dauntless?
What a terrible mess she’d made of everything! If ever she’d needed a white knight to ride to her rescue, now was the time. But she’d learned such characters were only the stuff of legend. True heroes had battle scars and armour that had grown too thick for them to remove without a great deal of help. True heroes were sometimes held hostage by their own demons.
Squaring her shoulders, Bethan hurried to don her best gown and fetch the reticule she’d filled with Simon’s money. She’d forfeited the right to seek his help. He had already done more for her than she deserved. Even if his code of honour would force him to assist her, she did not want to embroil him in this mess.
She would go to the gaol and demand to visit Hugh. He might have an escape plan that would require her help. If not, perhaps she could use a combination of charm and bribery on her brother’s guards.
As she dashed along Hill Street toward the gaol, she spied Simon riding towards her. Had he heard the news about Hugh? Did he now despise her as the deceitful sister of a mutineer? She only hoped he did not think she’d shared his bed as part of some devious plan. Unable to bear the loathing she feared she would see in his eyes, she kept her gaze downcast. She could not decide which would distress her more—if Simon denounced her in the street, or if he refused to speak to her at all.
A moment later, a man’s voice issued from atop Simon’s horse…but it was not his. “Bethan, thank God I didn’t miss you.”
“Hugh?” Bewildered, she stared up at her brother, sitting in Simon’s saddle, wearing Simon’s clothes. “I thought you were—”
“I haven’t time to explain.” He leaned down and extended his hand. “We have to go now!”
The urgency in his voice prompted her to grab her brother’s hand and let him hoist her up in front of him.
“Where did you get Simon’s horse and his clothes? You haven’t hurt him, have you?” A fierce protective impulse flared within her, strong and hot. If Hugh had harmed a hair on Simon’s head, she would turn him in herself!
And what about Rosalia? If any harm had come to Simon, who would look after that sensitive child?
“I didn’t want to, I swear.” Hugh urged Simon’s horse forwards. “He told me I must to make it look as if I’d overpowered him.”
“He what?” It was all Bethan could do not to hurl herself to the ground and fly to Simon that instant.
“It happened so fast,” said Hugh. “He came to the gaol and blustered his way past the guards. The moment we were alone, he started stripping off his clothes. I didn’t know what he meant to do to me. But he told me to put them on and pretend I was him to get back out past the guards. He said I must find you and get the hell out of Singapore. Then he told me to strike him on the head and lay him on the pallet facing the wall so the guards would think he was me. When the switch is discovered he’ll claim I attacked him and stole his clothes.”
Recalling the ruse Simon had used to rescue her from that angry mob on her first hour in Singapore, Bethan glowed with pride at his resourcefulness and audacity. In spite of his cautious nature, he could take a risk and carry it off with the best of them. No wonder he’d been able to make such a success of his business.
By now they had reached the godown. Hugh slipped from the saddle and lifted Bethan down. “He said you had money to pay for our passage.”
“That’s right.” She shook her bulging reticule, making the heavy coins clink.
“Let’s hail a boat then.” Hugh hauled her down a narrow alley toward the quay.
A few minutes later they were aboard a tongkang, being rowed out to a ship that flew the American flag.
The excitement of his escape made Hugh talkative. “I’ve had enough of the sea to last me a lifetime and enough of being bossed by folks above me. I hear there’s plenty of free, fertile land in America for anyone willing to settle it. How good it will feel to work for myself and not be looking over my shoulder every minute.”
The eager zest of his words conjured images of challenge and adventure that would have enthralled Bethan not so long ago. Now they washed over her as she gazed toward the shore and picked out Simon’s white villa from those of his neighbours, nestled among the Indian laurel and saga trees.
Her earlier fears for Simon had eased, but not gone away altogether. She longed to see for herself that he was all right. What if the authorities did not believe his story of Hugh’s escape? What might they do to him, and what would become of Rosalia?
Overwhelmed by her desire to protect them both, she suddenly understood the way Simon had felt about her. It was far deeper and stronger than he had been able to put into words or even to show with the tender thrill of his lovemaking. It was the kind of devotion that could weather mistakes and hurts, even the worst of them, and emerge stronger for it.
The tongkang came alongside the hull of the American ship. Hugh called up a request for passage and was given a price.
“You got here in the nick of time,” the crewman informed them in a cheerful bellow. “We’re just about to set sail.”
“Do we have enough money?” Hugh glanced anxiously towards his sister’s reticule.
Wistful sadness welled up in Bethan. What she was about to do felt like abandonment, something that came very hard to her. Tempering those feelings was a sense of sweet certainty.
She nodded to her brother with a fond smile. “More than enough, cariad.”
“Papa, you’re hurt!” Rosalia ran toward Simon when he arrived home. “Where is Bethan? All her things are gone. What happened?”
“Don’t fret, querido.” As Simon opened his arms to his daughter, it occurred to him how much the Portuguese endearment was like the Welsh one Bethan used. He’d thought the international language was money, now he wondered if it might be love. �
�Everything will be all right. I’ll tell you all about it, but first I have to step out to the veranda.”
He wished he could have given Bethan’s brother more time to get safely away. But the Resident had heard about the capture of one of the Dauntless mutineers and come to investigate for himself. Simon prayed Bethan and her brother had wasted no time making their escape. He wasn’t certain the Resident had believed his story about being knocked out and having his clothes stolen. If there was hell to pay, he would pay it willingly for Bethan’s sake, but he was too practical a businessman to abide seeing his efforts wasted.
“Very well.” Rosalia spoke in a determined tone, unlike anything he’d heard from her before. “But you must sit down when you get out there. I’ll fetch some water to wash your head. It’s bleeding a little.”
In spite of his worry and his heavy heart, Simon could not help but smile at his daughter’s motherly air. “As you wish, my dear.”
He limped out to the veranda, his gaze searching the waters offshore for the American vessel. There it was with a tongkang alongside. Simon’s legs felt suddenly weak with relief. He staggered back to the nearest chair and sank on to it as he had promised his daughter.
Rosalia appeared a few minutes later with a basin of water. Ah-Ming came too, carrying the medicine chest. As the pair of them fussed over him, Simon tried to placate their worries with a story of bumping his head on a low doorway.
His housekeeper’s disbelief showed plainly on her face, but for Rosalia’s sake she did not voice her doubts.
“What about Bethan, Papa?” Rosalia looked pleased with the gauze bandage she’d insisted on wrapping around his head.
Simon thought it might prove useful to disguise the suspiciously minor nature of his injury. “She had to go away very suddenly, I’m afraid. She didn’t want to leave us, but something very important came up.”
He knew that, regardless of her feelings about him, Bethan must be sorry to leave his daughter.
