A surly expression hardened the man’s features, and suddenly Brittany felt uneasy. “Ride on, Mrs. Stoddard.” His voice was almost like a warning. “Surely you have noticed that the roadway is becoming flooded.”
The rain was coming down in heavy torrents, and Brittany’s hair hung lankly down her face. She was drenched and miserable, but still she pushed forward. Her burning desire was to find Achmed, and she also intended to show this man that he had no control over her.
Mr. Deavers glanced ahead for a satisfactory place to stop. He had been promised a great deal of money if he made certain that this girl did not return to Stoddard Hill. He was not a particularly sentimental man, and he had no aversion to seeing that she met with a fatal accident.
Just ahead, he saw a place where the roadway had washed away. If he could hurl her off the road there, it would look like an accident. He drew even with her, and, reaching out, jerked the reins from her hands and pulled her horse to a halt.
“We had best slow down now, ma’am.”
She bit her lip in vexation, knowing he was being unreasonable. “I will not stop here. Why are you doing this?”
There were dark forces at work within the mind of Mr. Deavers, and his eyes burned into hers. “I believe we should get off and walk here, ma’am.”
“How much farther is it to our destination?”
“In this rain, an hour, maybe less.”
Here the land was flat, but there was a green valley just ahead. “I do not mind the rain. Let us ride past the valley. After we are there, I will do whatever you think is best. If you insist on walking the horses then, I will agree.”
He saw that she was not going to comply with his plan. It would make it harder, but the end would be the same—she would still be dead. He was almost glad to end this one’s life. She had superior airs, she was stubborn and proud—but he would show her that he was superior, in the end.
“Very well, Mrs. Stoddard. We will ride on past the valley.”
Brittany urged her horse forward, but soon had to pull him up short when she saw that a whole section of the roadway had been washed away by gushing floodwaters. She was faced with a sheer drop on either side of the road, and the middle had become like a raging river.
Mr. Deavers appeared to be having trouble maneuvering his horse up the slope. With a gleam of determination in her eyes, Brittany resolved to go forward, with or without him. She was mounted on a stalwart gelding, and she was certain that with its powerful legs, the animal could clear the swift current.
Without pausing to weigh the consequences, she prodded her mount forward. The gelding did not hesitate. Like a bird taking flight, he leaped the distance between the cliffs, landing safely on the other side.
Brittany’s heart was beating with excitement as she looked back at Mr. Deavers, who stared at her in anger. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “It is but a short jump,” she taunted. “Surely you are not going to allow a little danger to stop you.”
The man’s eyes held a chill as he glanced across at her. With a quick kick to his horse’s flanks, he, too, sailed over the newly formed ravine to land safely on the other side.
His lips curled in a snarl. “Surely you did not think my horsemanship would be inferior to yours, Mrs. Stoddard?”
Her head went up and her shoulders back, for he was making her feel like an impulsive child. “Shall we ride on?” she asked coldly.
“No, now we stop.”
She dismounted and looked back across the wide gap. Her brow knitted with a perplexed expression. Up ahead, she saw where the roadway had disappeared, completely covered by the raging flood.
“We cannot go on,” she said with a heavy heart. “We shall have to turn back.”
Mr. Deavers dismounted and moved closer to Brittany. “Yes, it’s swift.” His eyes gleamed. “Anyone caught in the current would be swept all the way to the river and would surely drown.”
With a suddenness that startled her, he reached out and grabbed her arm. “Hold on there, Mrs. Stoddard. You are a mite too close to the edge.”
Fear ate at her mind. “Let me go,” she stated in anger, jerking her arm out of his grip. “I resent your manner. I want to go back now.”
He smiled, showing a row of blackened teeth. “I would be less than responsible if I allowed you to rush headlong into danger.”
Her eyes sparkled with anger. “I do not need you to accompany me any farther. I can find my way back to Stoddard Hill on my own.”
His eyes narrowed. “Perhaps I have overestimated the danger. Why don’t you cross here?” He advanced toward her, and she backed away from him.
Brittany reached for her horse’s reins with the intention of mounting when she felt the man’s hand on her back. She spun away from him, and her sudden movement spooked her horse, causing it to bump against her. She cried out as she felt the ground give way beneath her and she fell forward.
Caught in the current, Brittany was being swept along by the floodwaters.
In desperation, she looked back at Mr. Deavers for assistance, but she saw that he made no effort to save her. Instead there was a satisfied smile on his lips.
She made a desperate attempt to save herself by grabbing on to a protruding tree root. Her hand slipped, and she went plummeting over a cliff.
It seemed as though Brittany was suspended in the air for an eternity. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see her death. When she hit the water, she felt stunned from the force of the fall.
She plunged deeper and deeper into the swirling waters, and her lungs felt as though they would burst from want of air. She fought and struggled to reach upward so she could breathe, but her boots and heavy clothing were dragging her down. She was caught in the current and it pushed her forward.
It flashed through her mind that she would never see Thorn again, and with that thought came a heavy feeling of loss. She had lived with danger for so long now that she found she had little dread of death, only a strong sense of sadness that her passing would cause grief for those she loved.
All the struggle went out of her, and she went limp. With her acceptance of death came a feeling of passiveness, as if she were floating on a lethargic sea of well-being.
Deavers watched Brittany go under with a smile on his face. Hearing a rider in the distance, he quickly mounted his horse. His laughter ran out as he took to the woods. It was raining so hard that his tracks would be washed away, leaving no evidence of his part in the woman’s death.
Already Deavers was counting on his reward for a task completed.
Cappy’s horse thundered through the rain. He had been on his way to Stoddard Hill when he saw Brittany and a stranger riding in the opposite direction. He would have been able to stop Brittany if he had not stopped alongside the road to scrape mud from his horse’s hooves. Because of the heavy rain, they had not seen him, and when he had called to Brittany, his voice had been drowned out by the storm.
Cappy let his horse run full out in hopes of catching her. Thorn had asked him to keep an eye on his wife, and Cappy intended to do just that.
Suddenly, just ahead, he saw Brittany’s riderless horse. Looking around, he saw no sign of Brittany or the man who had accompanied her. Dismounting, he noticed where the cliff had broken off, and he knew immediately that Brittany had fallen over the side.
Without pausing to consider the consequences, Cappy dove into the water below. He did not consider that he might drown, because if he allowed anything to happen to Brittany, the captain would probably murder him anyway, so his only concern was for her safety.
When the mud-colored water closed in around Cappy, he felt a consuming blackness and fought to reach the surface. At last he came up for air. Dragging air into his lungs, he frantically searched for Brittany.
At last he saw her surface just ahead of him. He could tell she was unconscious because she was facedown in the water. He swam toward her with powerful strokes, only to see her sink into the murky depths before he could reach her.
Diving under the water, Cappy searched for her without success. In desperation, he dove lower, the muddy water shrouding his vision. He held his breath until he thought his lungs would burst from want of air. Lower he dove, feeling around for Brittany.
Just when he thought he could not hold his breath for a moment longer, he found her! Pulling her into his arms, he kicked his feet and floated upward.
At last Cappy broke through the surface and filled his lungs with precious air. The current had swept them a long way downstream, and he could not see his horse.
With his last bit of strength, he swam toward the bank where he stumbled ashore, the unconscious Brittany in his arms.
He put her limp body down and stared at her in disbelief. His heart was heavy with dread. How still she was. He raised her hand and it was limp. Deep despair settled on his shoulders as he realized she might be dead. Sadness tore at his heart, because the captain loved this woman.
Cappy quickly dropped down beside Brittany and turned her onto her stomach. He then began pressing against the small of her back with heavy pressure. This process was repeated several times, and when she did not respond, he pressed harder.
At last relief washed over him when he felt her move ever so slightly.
A shout went up, and he raised her up and held her while she expelled the river water. He then cradled her in his arms while she caught her first cleansing breath.
Brittany was breathing easy, and yet her eyes were still closed. Cappy realized that she was just too exhausted to open them.
Seeing a road in the distance, he gently lifted her in his arms and carried her in that direction. Surely someone would come along to give them a ride back to Stoddard Hill so he could get her out of this rain.
Cappy wasn’t certain what had happened to Brittany or how she had ended up in the river. It was apparent that her companion had either drowned or had left without rendering aid to her.
With Brittany in his arms, Cappy sat down beside the road and waited, feeling grateful that the rain had stopped.
At last he felt Brittany stir, and her eyes fluttered open. He knew she was going to recover.
Brittany smiled weakly at Cappy. He had pulled her back from the jaws of death. “You saved my life,” she whispered.
“I had to,” he replied. “If anything had happened to you, the captain would have blamed me.” He glanced down the road thinking he heard a wagon in the distance. “Can you tell me what happened?”
She turned troubled eyes to the river. She could not accuse Mr. Deavers of trying to kill her without knowing for certain. It could have been that he was trying to save her. “I do not know, Cappy. I suppose I fell.”
He nodded. “Don’t fret. I’ll have you back home in no time.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
When Cappy carried Brittany into the house, Wilhelmina appeared shocked by what had occurred. She insisted that Brittany be put to bed at once and bestowed constant attention on her, remaining with her and seeing to Brittany’s slightest need.
Brittany thought she would despair from all the attention.
“Didn’t Mr. Deavers attempt to save you when you fell into the river?” Wilhelmina asked, her eyes searching.
“I cannot say for certain, since I was unconscious soon after I hit the water. It could be that he tried to help me and was drowned himself. I hope not, but I just do not know.”
“Sadly, I fear that might be the case,” Wilhelmina said, glad to pass off Brittany’s assumption as the truth. “Mr. Deavers has not contacted the doctor, so he probably drowned. Poor man, such a tragic end.”
“I still wish to find Achmed. Will the doctor know where I can find him?”
“Alas, no. Mr. Deavers never told Dr. Cross where he had located Achmed. We shall just have to keep looking.”
Brittany turned her face to the wall. “I will never give up searching for him.”
Brittany had been in bed for three days, but now she was feeling well and was not content to remain there any longer. She dressed, and slipped out of her room, fearing Wilhelmina would be lurking about and try to be solicitous.
Thorn had been away for so long, and there had been no word from him. Brittany stood on the front porch and searched for some sign of him. She was not quite so lonely because Cappy was her almost constant companion, and she had come to rely on him for company.
Sometimes when Cappy was occupied elsewhere on the plantation, Brittany would wander down to the slave cabins to visit with Esmeralda.
One thing she was thankful about was now that she was out of bed, Wilhelmina no longer troubled her.
Indeed, it seemed that Thorn’s stepmother was most always away from Stoddard Hill, and everyone was more content with her gone.
Each day, Brittany would pass by the bedroom of Thorn’s gravely ill father. She often had an urge to go in and see him—but of course she did not.
It was a bright day with the sun high in the sky. As Brittany entered the small sun room, she sat down and gazed at the view of the river. She preferred this bright, cheerful room, with its yellow and green decorations, to the other rooms in the house. She had been told that Thorn’s mother had decorated this room, and Thorn’s father would allow no changes. Brittany was aware that she could always come here to avoid Wilhelmina, who avoided the sun room.
Today, she was feeling alone and abandoned. Brittany was a wife, but her husband was not with her. She was lonesome for her mother, and wished for her wise counsel.
Hearing heavy footsteps in the hall, she glanced at the door, hoping Thorn had returned. When Cappy stuck his head around the corner, she rushed to him.
Since he had saved her life, they had formed a special bond. “I am so glad you came, Cappy, I had just about given up on you today. Would you like a cup of tea?”
His eyes were troubled. “No, not just now.”
She sat down on the yellow sofa and indicated that he should sit beside her. “Is something wrong, Cappy? Have you news for me?”
“Of a sort. I hate to be the bearer of ill tidings, but it looks like more trouble’s coming.”
She held her breath. “Of what nature? Thorn is all right, isn’t he?”
“He’s fine, as far as I know. This concerns the Victorious. I have heard through a reliable source that the Turks are planning to have her impounded as recompense for the ships they lost.”
“Can they do that?”
Cappy took a deep breath. “Anything’s possible. Unless we can find a buyer, and he could have the ship at sea before the Turks get their hands on her, the captain may lose her.”
“Have you a buyer?”
“No. And, with the captain away, I fear he won’t be back in time to save the Victorious.”
“If the Turks can take the ship, can they also take Thorn’s other properties?” she wanted to know.
“They might. Of course, I suspect Stoddard Hill still belongs to the captain’s pa, so they can’t touch that.”
“Could they take Stonehouse?”
“Yes, ma’am, they might. Let us hope they will not find out about that property.”
Brittany tapped her foot while her mind whirled. At last she looked at the first mate, her eyes shining. “Cappy, I believe I have a solution to our dilemma. Will you go along with me on this?”
His eyes held an earnest light. “I would do anything you asked of me, Mrs. Stoddard. You are my captain’s lady.”
“Can you authorize the sale of the Victorious?”
“I can’t, but the captain gave his solicitor the power to sell in his absence—just on the chance that someone wanted to buy the ship before he returned.”
“What about Stonehouse? Does the solicitor have the power to sell that?”
He looked puzzled. “I don’t believe so. The captain would not consent to sell his mother’s home. But I don’t see what you—”
“Wait here, Cappy. I’ll only be a moment.” She nodded to the side table. “Make yourself a drink if you like,
I shan’t be long.”
Cappy watched her disappear through the door, wondering what was on her mind. It wasn’t likely that she had the funds to help the captain. He poured a fair amount of whiskey into a glass, and downed it in one gulp. He hated to see Captain Stoddard lose everything, but the situation looked grim.
A short time later, Brittany rejoined him, carrying a small chest, which she held out to Cappy. “You will take these and do whatever you must to buy the Victorious.”
He was shocked into silence when she raised the lid to reveal the magnificent jewels, silver, and gold within the velvet-lined box.
She unclasped the large emerald from her neck and dropped it in the chest.
“Do you think this will be enough to buy the Victorious, Cappy?”
“I am certain that when the value of the jewels are assessed, there will be more than enough,” he replied, bewildered and awed by her sacrifice. Most women would not give up their jewels so willingly. “Are you quite certain you want to do this, Mrs. Stoddard?”
“Yes. Go at once to Thorn’s solicitor and tell him what I want to do. I am certain he will find a way to save Thorn’s property from Sultan Selim.”
“I don’t think a wife can legally buy property from her husband.”
Brittany’s brow creased in thoughtfulness. “I had not thought of that.” Her face slowly brightened. “We will not use my name, but my mother’s maiden name. No one, not even Thorn, knows my mother’s family name.” Now her eyes were bright with excitement. “Yes, you will have the solicitor use the name Lady Jillianna Maridon.”
Cappy chuckled. “So that is the name of the English Rose? Many people would give much to know that.”
“You know of my mother?” she asked in surprise.
“I know nothing about her personally, but I have heard of her, as has everyone who ever sailed the Turkish waters. She is something of a legend.”
“My mother is wonderful, and very beautiful, but I do not think of her as a legend.”
Cappy thought the daughter also had legendary beauty, but he did not say so. “I should leave immediately, Mrs. Stoddard, if I am to reach the solicitor before he goes home for the day.” He frowned, not wanting to leave her alone since the accident—if it had been an accident. “You stay close to the house, and don’t go riding off with strangers.”
Enchantress Page 27
