Mother would sit beside a cheery fire with her in this room, and they would admire the silken lengths of ribbon as she helped Madeleine wind them through her hair. She turned away as the carriage wheels clattered as it crossed the wooden bridge and her footsteps echoed through the cold, bare room. The fireplace was full of gray ash and the furniture had been sold. All that remained was her bed. She would never forgive her uncle for clearing her possessions along with everything else in Bellerose Hall
“Madeleine!” The harsh voice of Uncle Titus came from the end of the hall and she paused in mid-step. “Where are you? Edward Phillips’ carriage has crossed the bridge and he will wish to meet you.”
Madeleine hurried over to the long window on the western side of the room, taking care to step on her toes, so the soles of her shoes did not make a sound on the wooden floor. She slipped behind the burgundy velvet drapes and held her breath. She had no interest in speaking with her uncle or meeting with Edward Phillips, the representative of the society, who was organizing their journey.
“Are you in there, Madeleine?” The angry tones of her uncle’s voice reached her and she stood perfectly still as he paused in the doorway. “That girl is in need of a firm hand.” The muttering of her uncle faded as he strode to the other end of the long corridor on the first floor of the manor. Whatever he did was always in anger. His voice, his walk and his attitude to her showed his displeasure with his earthly life.
Even the way he eats. He shared no qualities with her dear father, his older brother.
Madeleine had to endure watching Uncle Titus devour his food each night. Worse still, since he had dismissed all of the staff after Bellerose Hall had been stripped, she’d had to prepare his food. She sighed and turned to the window. At least, he’d not been able to destroy the beauty of the garden, and she wiped the tears from her eyes before pushing the casement open, taking in a deep breath of the fresh, cool air. Autumn was not far off but she would not see the leaves fall from the trees this season if Uncle Titus had his way.
The summer garden, planned by her mother with Jed, the Bellerose gardener, was in full-blown beauty as the season drew to a close. The mauve and purple hollyhocks almost reached the oak window pane beneath her fingertips. Scarlet poppies nodded their cupped heads and the fragrance of the pink climbing rose drifted in on the soft afternoon breeze. If she stretched forward she would see the purple wisteria that covered the walls around the main entrance beneath the north-west tower, but she did not want to risk being seen by her uncle, or the visitor. Beneath her, a movement on the fountain terrace caught her eye and she smiled. Jed had refused to leave his beloved gardens even after Uncle Titus had dismissed the staff. Now Jed toiled away each day for no stipend from the estate. Madeleine was determined to bring money back to the estate, no matter what it took. The staff would have their positions back and would not end up impoverished and hungry or even worse having to go to the cities to the new factories that her father had said were springing up all over England. It was her duty as the only surviving member of the Bellerose family. Apart from Uncle Titus who seemed to have more care for strangers on the other side of the world, than the villagers and estate workers who had spent their lives toiling for the family.
It was her duty and she had made a promise on the coffins of her family at the combined funeral for her parents and her brother.
Madeleine lifted her skirts, walked quietly to the door and peered into the long, dim hallway. There was neither sight nor sound of Uncle Titus. He would be down greeting his guest at the front of the manor. She moved quickly along the wide hall, down through the kitchens, picked up two large apples on the way and slipped through the scullery door, past the chapel and out into the gardens. Jed was clipping the full blown roses, and the perfume of the fallen petals was sweet.
“Is he out here, Jed?” She wanted to make sure that Uncle Titus didn’t see her disappear into her secret place. The old man straightened and shook his head.
“You know you can’t blame your uncle for what has happened.”
“I know that Father was struggling with the upkeep of the estate before he died.” She sighed. “Why is it that our family is jinxed? First Grandpapa died when he fell from his horse, and then Uncle Arthur died in London and it was up to my dear father to try to keep it going—” she swallowed as her breath hitched “—and then to lose my parents and my darling brother in that carriage accident.”
She swiped angrily at the tears. “I will go to the new world and I will find the heirloom and I’ll come back to England loaded with riches and it will all be the same as it was.”
Jed patted her arm. “The heirloom? What heirloom? Miss Madeleine, you know you cannot restore the past. Wealth alone won’t bring things back to the way they were.”
‘I must do something to bring money back to the hall, so the villagers can come back to work. I have found a way to do it. This Hall has been in the family for three hundred years and it will be filled with happiness and laughter again.”
“What are you going to do, Miss Madeleine?”
“Do you remember Great Aunt Josephine?”
“Yes, she moved to the American colonies when your father was a young lad.”
“She died two years ago. I found her diary in Father’s possessions.” Madeleine dropped her voice and leaned closer to the old gardener, despite there being no one else to hear them. “And in the pages she writes of a family heirloom. Her own words. All I have to do is go to New Orleans and bring it home to Bellerose Hall and then everything will be all right.”
Jed tutted and shook his head. “And how are you going to that? How will you know where to find it?”
“I am still making plans. Great Aunt Josephine has hinted in her diary where it is hidden.” Madeleine looked into the distance. The setting sun was shining on the soft colored Derbyshire sandstone of the hall, bathing it in a pink glow. “I will find it. But I must set out with Uncle Titus on this journey, as I have no money to go alone. It is fortuitous that the ship will berth in New Orleans.” She gave a bitter laugh. “Perhaps if Uncle Titus knew why I am happy to go to America with him, he would say it was God’s will.”
The old man pursed his lips and she patted his arm.
“It will be all right. Do not worry.” She glanced around the gardens and up to the windows that overlooked them but there was no sign of her uncle.
“If he comes out, you have not seen me.” She smiled at him and lifted her skirt as she headed for the huge oak tree which was her secret place for reading the diary.
###
Great Aunt Josephine had begun each entry with the date and the weather, and had used the early entries simply to record her personal accounts and those of the household accounts of the grand house on Toulouse Rue in New Orleans. Madeleine had been fascinated by the different style of living in New Orleans. Josephine had written vivid descriptions of the visitors to their home, including the fur traders her husband Francois had dealt with each season. Russians, Spanish, French and many other nationalities resided in or plied their trade in New Orleans, yet Madeleine was surprised that Great Aunt Josephine did not appear to have any female acquaintances.
The strange entry soon after the description of a dinner party had caught Madeleine’s attention three weeks ago.
His arms encircled me and my heart swelled with love.
From that curious entry, the descriptions changed from household and social, to personal. Madeleine had taken every opportunity to read the diary. Her cheeks had burned as Josephine had described her meetings with a lover. At first, the language had confused her.
What new passions will my lover find me today? What pleasures unheard of, undreamed of? I crave release in the days he is away from me. I catch my breath and throb with need as I wait for his skilful touch.
She had spoken of meeting him at the cemetery gate near the house and talked of gathering plants with him in the swamp.
And then the words of what they had done!
Unfamiliar feelings had coursed through Madeleine’s body as she’d read the description of a physical act of which she knew little. She’d crossed her legs as warm pressure had filled her lower belly. Mother had hinted of the act of union between a man and a woman, and had promised to tell her more when she became engaged. But Mother was gone and would never be able to share that knowledge.
Uncle Titus had asked Cook to come back to help prepare one meal for their guest, and yesterday morning, before Madeleine had helped Mrs. Jennings in the scullery, she had snatched a few moments in the library to read the next pages. The diary had drawn her in and she was living through Josephine’s words. Excitement had run through her veins yesterday when she had reached a page where an inked drawing of an emerald necklace had filled the page.
Your emerald beauty shall never fade, though the curse of lust may forfeiture love.
What could that mean, lust and love? For the first time, Madeleine realized the lover in the diary may not be Great Uncle Francois. Some pages were harder to read, where the flourishing writing was smudged as though liquid had been spilled or perhaps the writer had shed tears on the words as they had been written.
But the more Madeleine read, the more she was certain that her great aunt had been given a precious necklace and had hidden it. Perhaps it had been from a lover? Father had certainly never mentioned a family heirloom and the diary had been in his possessions. It had been fortunate that she had found it before Titus, and Madeleine had kept it either in her reticule or hidden in the library. If Uncle Titus found out what she was reading, he would lock her away in her room, but she was fascinated by the feelings Josephine had recorded in her diary. Uncle Titus took no pleasure from even the mundane and would be horrified by the sensual words now firmly fixed in her mind.
But more important to Madeleine was the necklace. Cryptic references near the drawing spoke of emeralds and diamonds, and untold wealth. It would mean the resurrection of Bellerose Hall.
Where was it? It must be in Josephine’s house in New Orleans. In Rue Toulouse, near a cemetery. Madeleine wondered who the house had been bequeathed to when Aunt Josephine had died. Her great aunt had had no children and her possessions had filled the two small boxes that had been returned to Bellerose Hall just before her parents had been killed. Perhaps Father had not had a chance to look at the diary, so it had never been discussed. Madeleine tried to remember the stories he had told about his aunt, but they wouldn’t come.
Perhaps I am the only person in the world who knows of this hidden necklace?
Madeleine frowned as she tried to decipher the words. Beneath the drawing, a heavy black line of ink crossed from one side of the page to other, perhaps in an attempt to gain a reader’s attention?
Safe at rest, at home. In the water, by the water, in the garden. The words crossed the page like a fine gossamer web. Light spidery writing that was almost invisible. The next time she read the diary she would transcribe the words onto another page in case these continued to fade.
It was her only chance and until then, she would memorize them. Over and over she read them, imprinting them into her memory.
But they made no sense. Madeleine turned to the next page searching for more clues. But there were none. She would have to decipher what she had read.
Safe at rest, at home. In the water, by the water, in the garden. That was the clue.
“There you are!”
Madeleine jumped and the diary slipped from the folds of her skirt as she sat up, and she pushed it deeper into the stiff fabric.
“Come down here, immediately.” Uncle Titus was beneath her and his expression was furious. “And hand me whatever it is you are trying to hide.”
Chapter Three
New Orleans
September 1796
Doom and gloom stories of pirates from Jake, the ginger-haired cabin boy Madeleine had befriended soon after their departure from Bristol, were the only interesting things she experienced during the journey to the American colonies. The trip had been dull and non-eventful and the sun had moved across the cloudless sky in a monotonous pattern for days. The weather had been kind but despite that, Madeleine was one of the few passengers who had not suffered from the sea sickness. She had enjoyed the gentle rocking in the long lazy swells as they had crossed the ocean. A month of fair weather and good wind had made for a quicker journey than Uncle Titus had anticipated, but the daily prayers as Uncle Titus had droned on above deck each morning had at least given a structure to the day. Madeleine spent most of the daylight hours sitting on the poop deck planning how she would elude her uncle as soon as they made land in New Orleans. Talking with Jake had expanded her vocabulary and she now considered herself quite an expert on nautical terms.
Uncle Titus had taken the diary from her and thrown it back into the library after he had ordered her down from the tree. When she had gone looking for it the next day, she could not find it amongst the thousands of books lining the walls. She’d scanned the shelves and had pulled many books out in a last, desperate bid to locate the precious book.
She’d had no success, but the words she had read were imprinted on her mind. She had no intention of going to the British West Indies with her uncle and had already set aside the only things she wanted to take with her. Some pieces of her mother’s jewelry, which she would have to sell, and the favorite ribbon her father had given her.
“Aye, they were a lusty mob.” Jake’s latest pirate story brought her back to the present. The brigands roamed the seas they were travelling across and were, according to Jake, in search of gold and attractive young women. “The last ship I was aboard had its cargo of jewels and gold purloined, and the captain and the crew each chose a woman to be their doxies on the pirate ship. I have heard Sébastien Leclerc is the most feared pirate from Louisiana to the Caribbean.”
Madeleine yawned. Jake’s stories had become more bloodthirsty each day and she did not believe one word he said.
Fancy, pirates and doxies. She was aware of the slave trade. Goodness, she had heard Uncle Titus speak for hours of the society he belonged to. He had something to do with the plan to abolish slavery and had forced her to attend a lecture with him in Danesthorpe soon after her family had been buried. It was another reason she loathed her uncle. He had had no consideration for her grief and had told her she should accept her loss as God’s will.
At the meeting a man had spoken of the inhuman and immoral treatment of enslaved Africans committed in the name of slavery, and was garnering support for a campaign in favor of a new law to abolish the slave trade and enforce it on the high seas. It was the first inkling she’d had that Uncle Titus was planning a voyage.
Slavery and piracy on the high seas was a long way from her life at Bellerose Hall and Madeleine had not given it another thought until Jake had started to tell her the pirate stories.
She was more afraid of having to stay with her Bible-thumping zealot of an uncle than encountering pirates or slave traders.
“So how do I know when we are near a pirate ship?” She decided to humor Jake. He had been a good friend to her on this boring voyage.
Jake looked at her scornfully. “Why, by their black flag, of course.”
“Maybe, I might run away from my uncle and join a pirate ship.” Madeleine watched a flock of gulls fly over the main sail. Jake knew a little about her situation and how much she loathed her uncle. She had told him of her parents and her older brother and had learned of him being orphaned in London and his own plans to be the master of a ship one day.
‘Tis a shame I am not a man. I could make my fortune as a seafarer and travel home when I become rich.
Madeleine sighed and moved across to the side of the boat. Jake followed her. Uncle Titus was asleep. He suffered badly from the sea sickness. Once the daily prayers and Bible reading were done, he disappeared below deck and slept the rest of the day. This had given Madeleine unexpected freedom on the voyage from Bristol.
“Look!” Jake pointe
d past her just as the cry “Land-Ho” came from the rigging above. “We are almost there. That’s the delta of the Mississippi River over there to the west. Now we have to wait out here for a favorable wind and tide to get up to New Orleans.”
A lightness filled Madeleine’s chest as the prospect of escape and the beginning of her quest came within reach. She grabbed Jake’s hands and did a jig around the deck, her bonnet slipping sideways, giving no regard to who may be watching as the sea gulls squawked above them. As soon as they had moored, and she prayed Uncle Titus would not wake, she intended to slip off the ship. She had no idea where she would go, but she would find somewhere safe. A couple of gold coins and her mother’s necklace would hopefully pay her way when she found lodgings.
Tonight. I will be alone and I can find out where Aunt Josephine’s house is.
She would not spend one day more with Uncle Titus. A niggle of doubt tugged at Madeleine as she worried that the opportunity would not come, or she would not find a hiding place in the town. She knew her uncle. He was determined and would not be bested by a mere slip of a girl.
From this moment, she would pay close attention to the land they passed, especially as they came close to New Orleans. Breathlessly, she dropped onto a water keg on the side of the deck and smiled up at Jake. He had been kind to her over the past month and she would miss him.
“Tell me about New Orleans. Have you been there before?”
“Yes, we have traded sugar from there since I was taken onto this vessel as a cabin boy.” He puffed his chest out. “I’m going to be a ship master one day, you know.”
“Not a pirate?” Madeleine smothered a grin as he glared at her. “So tell me, is it like London?”
Jake regarded her scornfully but there was patience on his voice. “It is a town nothing like home. A lot smaller than London, but more streets than the villages we are used to.”
Capturing the Pirate's Heart (The Emerald Quest Book 1) Page 2
