Till Dawn Tames the Night

by Meagan Mckinney

  "Who's there?" An aged man in a nightshirt that showed his skinny legs appeared at the door. He lifted his chamber candlestick and the light poured over them.

  "God in heaven! My eyes do deceive me! Is that Vashon?" the man exclaimed.

  "In the flesh. Sovens, old man, how are you?" Without invitation, Vashon brought her into the house.

  "I can't believe it!" The gent Sovens followed Vashon with his candlestick. He looked down at Aurora, limp in his arms, and said, "But I see I'll have to put my dismay aside for the moment. What have you brought me, son?"

  "She fainted aboard ship. We docked for some water and she had a spell. She may have eaten something that soured."

  Aurora was placed on a soft mattress in a room that smelled oddly of limes. She opened her eyes for a mo­ment and saw the candlelight spill onto a lime tree through an open window.

  Vashon continued speaking. "I'll be honest, Sovens, she's not too fond of my company. She may be faking this." His voice lowered. "But if she's not, she must be taken care of. I cannot afford to lose her."

  Aurora thought she detected a trace of tenderness in his tone, but then she thought of her necklace and the rhyme and the wretched Star of Aran. All that was what he could not afford to lose, she reminded herself bitterly. That was all she was worth to anyone.

  With a great cloak of despair descending upon her shoulders, she shut her eyes more tightly and prayed for the moment she would be left alone. She would climb out the open window and run into the cane fields, losing her­self in the darkness. The island was small enough that she'd find her way back to town in no time and get word to the governor about Flossie's captivity. They would be free this evening. Flossie would be going back to St. George's and she . . . she would be going back to Lon­don.

  London. xxx

  She heard water splash and then the doctor washing his hands. In the silence she thought of her future. Would John be too angry to allow her to return to the Home? Or would she need to look for a position elsewhere? Or would she not return there at all, instead going with Flos­sie to St. George's, where she might find a family in want of a governess?

  Before she could stop her musings, they went a step further, right where she dreaded to go. She'd always hated to think it, to even put words to it, but nowhere in her future did she see a husband. She knew all the rea­sons: She possessed neither the dowry nor the family con­nections to get one, and she was not such a fiery tempt­ress that she could expect to dazzle a man into believing those things weren't necessary. Even a common butcher boy expected his wife to bring something to their mar­riage, if only a pen of piglets.

  Yet deep down she supposed she'd always held out the hope that someday, some way, a man would come along and want her despite her lack of possessions. She sup­posed that was why she'd gone on this adventure in the first place. Now here she was, out in the night with a pirate whose most lofty ambition was to escape the hang­man—for just one more day. And the best she could hope for in concluding this journey was to go back to London and resume the dismal existence that she'd been so eager to escape.

  With that last thought only depressing her further, she heard the physician speak.

  "You know, Vashon. the obvious illness for a girl of this age is—"

  "I sincerely doubt she's pregnant," Vashon answered almost derisively. "I know she's not got my babe in her and I can't see another one taking her. She's so damned stiff a chap'd find more lively company in Marylebone Cemetery."

  She almost shot up and slapped him. Instead she was forced to lie there, not moving, all the while enduring the doctor's all-too-hearty laugh.

  "I see." Sovens chuckled. "If she's that tight-laced, I don't envy you. I'm just glad you brought her here in a faint. Do you know what it's like telling these missies to undress so that I can examine them? It's like taking the horns off a bull, that's what. They think every man is out to ravish them. . . ."

  Aurora felt the doctor take the pin from her apron front. She grew rigid just trying to think of her next move. Panic was beginning to overtake her. She'd never thought about the fact that she'd have to be examined. And with Vashon looking on as if he were some sort of privileged viewer! It was certainly ironic, especially since he'd been trying to get her clothes off ever since she'd arrived on the Seabravery.

  "Oh, damn." Sovens cursed and sucked the finger he'd just pricked on her pin. "I've got to get another candle. Excuse me, Vashon. These old eyes aren't what they used to be."

  Aurora then heard the words for which she'd been praying. "Let me come help you, Sovens." Vashon moved to the door. "Perhaps you could even spare some of that monkey piss you natives call rum down here?"

  She heard the doctor laugh, then the sound of footsteps leaving the room. Her heart hammered in her chest when she opened her eyes. She looked at the door. They were gone. The room was dark, the lone candle casting long shadows. But through the door she could hear Sovens fumbling around for another candle while Vashon was probably pouring himself a drink. Now was her chance. She couldn't delay.

  She rose from the bed and slipped her feet to the floor. She backed away from the door, a soft curse from Sovens in the other room making her jump. She was almost to the window before she dared turn around to flee. But when the moment came, she scrambled for the window only to be captured in an unyielding embrace.

  "My, my. What a miraculous recovery." The anger in Vashon's voice froze her heart.

  She gasped and struggled to see him in the darkness. She pulled away, but his arms had turned to well-tem­pered steel. There was no escape.

  "And what have you to say for yourself, Aurora? You've made me come onto this island and risk my neck—"

  "No, no! I didn't think you'd come here! Just let us go, Vashon! Just let Flossie and me go!" It was all she could do to keep her voice from quaking. He was furious. She could only imagine what her punishment would be.

  The dim candlelight flickered over his face; the anger in his eyes flared like sparks of emerald. "You know," he whispered menacingly, "if I'm caught here, they'll take you to be my lover. They'll hang you with me, Aurora. Right by my side. Now wouldn't that be a fitting end for us both." He laughed bitterly and pulled her closer. She could smell lime in the hot tropical air and she could smell him, a scent deeper than the night. He was angry and he frightened her, but she forced herself to harden to it. For that was what he wanted. That was what pleased him most. To see her cowering before him like slave to master.

  "So was your trickery worth it then?" he whispered hotly. "Are you willing to be executed as my lover?"

  With his words, her fury peaked. She remembered his earlier comments to the doctor, and though she knew it wasn't judicious to provoke him further, she couldn't stop herself. Defiantly she met his gaze and said, "I beg your pardon, but no one could mistake me for your lover. If you recall, I've been proclaimed a little less stirring than the corpses in Marylebone."

  Without warning, he burst out laughing. His hold slackened, but not enough to free her. She was still in his arms when the doctor arrived with his candlestick.

  "Up and about already?" he asked, amazed. "Why, I've never seen anything like it. Vashon, whatever cure you're dispensing, I should very much like to have it bottled for the rest of my patients!"

  Aurora tried to twist free. When she couldn't, she be­gan to plead. "Dr. Sovens, I beg of you. Help me. I've been kidnapped. Whatever you think you know of this man Vashon, you don't know anything about him. He's a pirate. He doesn't hesitate to do the worst kind of deed—"

  "Come now, miss! Surely you're exaggerating! A pi­rate! No, he couldn't be!" Sovens winked at her, and Au­rora couldn't remember the last time she'd been so com­pletely taken aback.

  "You—you don't believe me?" she gasped.

  Sovens chuckled. He looked at Vashon. "On the con­trary, I believe you all too well. In fact, I used to serve on the Seabravery. I was ship's doctor until Vashon retired me a few years back."

  "Oh, my God." Aurora sl
umped in Vashon's arms. Her escape seemed even more hopeless now. She didn't know how she would get away again.

  "But come now, buck up, miss. Surely Vashon hasn't been treating you that badly."

  She summoned all the fury in her breast and said, "He's been the most appalling beast, not even worthy of the term 'gentleman'!"

  "Gracious! That bad?" Sovens looked at Vashon and almost smiled. "Well, then, I wish I could help you."

  Aurora straightened. She held her arms out in suppli­cation. "But you can! Summon help. There's another lady on the Seabravery and—" She stopped short. Sovens was adamantly shaking his head now.

  "I'm sorry, miss. Even if I did try to summon help for you, not too many would stick out their necks on my behalf."

  "But you're a physician! Surely a man of your standing could gather all kinds of support!"

  "No, miss, I'm sorry. I administer to the blacks on this island, and that makes my status several notches below the barber . . . who sometimes lowers himself to treat the island's cows."

  She looked at him. Again she was confronted with that terrible dichotomy. Here was a man who now spent his years caring for those whom most would deem unworthy of attention; and yet he'd sailed with Vashon, no doubt a willing participant to all of Vashon's notorious pursuits. The man was both noble and despicable. Much as she'd found Vashon to be.

  "Surrender?" Vashon asked, once more gaining the up­per hand.

  She never realized what a wretched word that was.

  "Never," she whispered before he took her by the arm and pushed her to the door.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The governor's gilt barouche rocked back and forth as it climbed the promontory to the top of New Providence. Below, all the lights of the city twinkled through the col­onnade of palms that lined the drive to the mansion. The ride was made in absolute silence as Flossie and Isaac did their absolute best to ignore each other.

  It wasn't easy. For one thing the carriage was small and neither one of them possessed the slim girth of their youth. But worse than the cramped quarters were the stares they threw at each other like darts.

  Flossie would attack first, unable to keep her emotions from sparking up into her eyes and hurling themselves silently upon Isaac. She stabbed him with one of her glit­tering, accusatory stares until he was forced to deflect it or allow himself to be unmanned. But when it was her turn to be the recipient of a particularly vile glare, she opened her eyes wide and nearly choked on the shock of it all, as if, by his retaliation, he was now even worse than the devil she thought he was—and how dare he look at her that way?

  "I cannot believe I almost invited you to my cabin for tea! I cannot believe it!" With that outburst, she abruptly turned away and stared past the driver toward the man­sion on the hill.

  "Oh, will you give that up?" Isaac retorted, annoyance heavy in his voice.

  "I will not! It was the most stupid thing I've ever done in a life full of stupid things! I'll never ever forgive myself for it! I, Mrs. Stefan Lindstrom of St. George's and Lon­don, almost invited a pirate into my cabin for tea!"

  "To begin with," he answered nastily, "I'm not a pi­rate, and I'm getting jolly tired of explaining that. While you may not believe it, I'm a sea captain, I have always been a sea captain, and I intend to stay a sea captain!" When he had calmed himself, he said, "And another thing. I have never seen a woman so lacking in sense as yourself. Why, my own Rachel was half your age when she died, and she possessed more sense. People chastise themselves for what they have done, or what they should have done. But not for what they might have done" With that off his chest, he hunched down into the seat and stared at the flattened calash of the carriage until they arrived.

  The governor's mansion was a huge stuccoed palace to rival Marco Polo's description of Xanadu. Chinoiserie was everywhere, from the red faux bamboo chairs to the black lacquered Weisweiler commodes. In the porte-cochere fantastic birds were painted flying across the wallpaper while such exotica as Chinese export porcelain and English pastiches were displayed on fretwork pedes­tals. The predominant colors were scarlet and purple; the enormous pier mirrors reflected them incessantly, and also the astonishing narcissism of their owner.

  Governor Ignatio Roberto Aquila Lopez stood in the entrance to the drawing room, his hand fondling the hilt of an ancient Toledo sword. When he saw his visitors, he gave his black mustache a little swipe and nodded in greeting. A battalion of slaves in canary yellow livery soon appeared and Flossie and Isaac were shown into the drawing room. Refreshments were served while a young turbaned boy fanned them with palm leaves.

  The governor was the first to speak. His blunt manner was only surpassed by his obvious insanity.

  "You know, of course, Captain, that my fondest wish is to run Vashon through with my sword until he bleeds to death at my feet. Now"—the Spaniard sat down and looked as if he were just about to win at faro—"what can I do to make that possible?"

  Flossie choked on her tea, obviously unaware before now of the Spaniard's mental affliction.

  "Well . . ." Isaac rubbed his eyes and feigned a casual assessment. He didn't seem surprised at all by the gover­nor's irrational words. "I'm not sure, Ignatio. Vashon owns my ship. If something were to happen to him, I wouldn't have—"

  Ignatio waved his hand. "Ships—ships—I can give you ships. Is that all?"

  Isaac sipped his rum and grew thoughtful. "A ship would be nice, I suppose."

  "Would you like a woman? There are three here on the island I like. I'll let you have one. And they're nice big women, you understand, Captain?" The Spaniard cupped his hands in a crude gesture.

  "I beg your pardon!" At once Flossie stood up. She glared at the Spaniard, then turned her furious gaze on Isaac.

  "What kind of man are you to sell your friends in this manner?" she exclaimed. "I don't understand any of this. For what he's done to me, I've no great regard for Vashon, but before I'd see him run through for his crimes, I'd have him receive a trial. At the very least!"

  "Who is this woman?" Ignatio stood up. "Is she your wife?"

  "Good God, no!" Isaac burst out.

  Angrily Flossie faced Ignatio. He was so short she could look him straight in the eye. "You are a vile little toad of a man, sir, to say the things you have in my company."

  "Captain." Ignatio turned back to Isaac. "I ask you again, who is this woman? I shall have her executed for speaking to me in this manner."

  Concern flashed across Isaac's face. Disbelief regis­tered on Flossie's. Isaac stood slowly as if he weren't sure how to contain the damage. "Governor, she's not aware of what she's saying—"

  "Oh, yes, indeed, I am very much aware of what I'm saying," she insisted. Continuing her harangue as if she thought she'd simply misunderstood the governor, she said, "In fact, I'm so much aware of what I'm saying that I declare you both to be a couple of curs without the good breeding to watch your tongues in my presence. I demand to be taken back to the ship. If I'm to be kid­napped and held captive, you cannot expect me to endure this wretched company, too."

  "I'll have that woman's head in my hands this very evening!" Infuriated, Ignatio shook his fist at Flossie. Her jaw slackened in shock. It was suddenly clear that she'd understood the little madman all along. And now she'd only provoked him further. Her hand moved to her neck in an unconscious protective gesture.

  Isaac moved between them, anxiety etched in his face. "Governor, I shall have an apology for you. If you will allow me a word with Mrs. Lindstrom, I'll show her the error of her ways."

  Ignatio fumed; his little black mustache, which hid so well the syphilitic sores around his lip, twitched. He didn't appear as if he wanted to go along, but finally, he nodded his head.

  Smiling at the governor, Isaac pulled Flossie aside and exploded in fierce whispers. "Do you know what you've done, woman? Do you want to die? Is that it? Have you no sense whatsoever?"

  Flossie shot the governor a disbelieving look. "That vile little man is out of his mind. I de
mand to be taken back to the ship." She opened a glittering black fan that was secured to her wrist and furiously fanned herself.

  "Of course he is! I know that! And he has the power to do whatever he wishes. This is his island, remember? I swear I won't rescue you from the chopping block if your mouth puts you there!"

  Flossie eyed Isaac distastefully. "Are there no gentle­men on this island?"

  "Gentlemen? Gentlemen?" Isaac whispered, his voice rising in hysteria. "How can there be gentlemen when those flapping lips of yours are a constant source of irrita­tion? I'm telling you once, shut them, or I'll shut them for you!"

  Abruptly Flossie closed the fan. She gave Isaac her most vicious stare yet. "My husband, the dear saint that he was, would never have spoken to me like that. You are a villain, sir, plain and simple. You bring me to this mad­man's lair, then you insult me with your rude talk. As for those 'flapping lips,' just let me say that they will go on 'flapping' until you set Aurora and me free."

  "We'll see about that. You'll be quiet if I have to make you be quiet!"

  "And how do you propose to do that? You can kidnap me, you can imprison me, you can torture me, but as Louis Seize so quickly found out, you cannot keep the people silent!"

  "Oh, but I have a way to keep you silent!"

  "And what way is that, sir?" she asked sarcastically, not a bit intimidated.

  "The way men have been keeping women silent for centuries, that's how!"

  "Well then, do it! This should be quite a lesson!"

  "I'll give you a lesson, all right!" Isaac moved to Flos­sie. Her chin jutted out, just daring him to strike her, but instead he did something altogether different. She was so surprised she couldn't even defend herself when he took her in his arms. In confusion she stared up at him, wide-eyed, until he kissed her so soundly he nearly gave her a heart attack.

  When they finally parted, Flossie stood frozen to the ground, unable to even blink. Isaac looked a bit sheepish, as if, perhaps, he thought he might have gone too far, but then he mumbled testily, "Ah, at last, blessed silence," and went to seat himself once more on the governor's red satin sofa.