Dark Before the Rising Sun

by Laurie McBain

  “Better lift a leg, mates,” Conny advised over his shoulder, “or Mr. Butterick might have ye helpin’ his boys clean out the stables.”

  “I don’t think he likes you, Robin,” Anna commented, her soft gray eyes full of admiration as she watched Conny’s swaggering figure disappear around the side of the stables. “He certainly knows a lot. But then, none of us has traveled around the world like he has.”

  “He hasn’t traveled around the world. Just to the colonies and down to the Indies,” Robin corrected her, unable to hide his envy.

  “Do you really think Andy could climb to the top of one of those tall masts?” Maggie wanted to know, her eyes looking her cousin Robin up and down as if now questioning his abilities.

  Robin could stand no more. Jumping to his feet, he hurried after the braggart Conny Brady. Oddly, the boy hadn’t gotten too far ahead, and Robin caught up with him near one of the tall, stately chestnuts lining the drive.

  “You think you know everything, don’t you?” Robin demanded as he reached out and spun Conny round to face him.

  “I don’t know everything, but I figure I know a lot more than you,” Conny baited.

  “Like what?”

  “Like this,” Conny said quickly, now that the bait had been taken.

  Robin, surrounded by his cousins, watched in amazement as Conny pulled off his boots and scrambled beneath the overhanging branches of the big chestnut. He disappeared for a few minutes, then suddenly appeared overhead, his grinning face staring down at them from high above.

  “Ooooh, how did you get up there so quickly?” Maggie demanded, her eyes round with disbelief.

  “’Twas easy, if ye know how. Why, this isn’t anythin’ at all compared to climbin’ the riggin’ aboard the Sea Dragon,” Conny boasted. He disappeared again, only to reappear even higher up.

  “I bet if I was to look hard, I could see all the way to the sea,” the onetime cabin boy stated, little realizing how much longing there was in his voice.

  “If you were as smart as you think you are, then you’d know you couldn’t. We’re too far inland,” Robin called.

  “Ye think not, eh? Well, at least I can see beyond Camareigh. Maybe, if I climb higher, I might even be able to see beyond those hills in the distance,” he speculated. And Conny climbed higher into the tree.

  “Why don’t you try to touch the sun while you’re up there, Master Brady?” Robin called scathingly.

  “Why don’t you, Lord Robin? Or are ye afraid of heights? Ye may be quite the gentleman on horseback, but I don’t reckon ye’d make much of a sailor, at least not on board the Sea Dragon. The cap’n would have ye scrubbin’ the decks,” Conny called down to him.

  Robin glared at his cousins. He didn’t enjoy finding himself the laughingstock, especially because of a scrubby little guttersnipe who had connived his way into Rhea Claire’s affections.

  “Well?” Stuart asked.

  “Well what?” Robin said, not meeting the challenging glance.

  “Are you going to let him get away with calling you a coward?” Stuart demanded, quite put out about the matter, but then he could afford to be in high dudgeon, for he wasn’t the one who was going to have to climb the tree.

  “Hey, down there!” a faraway voice called. “Ye sure look little and insignificant to me from way up here on top o’ the world,” Conny’s triumphant voice drifted down.

  “I’ll take that puffed-up jack-pudding down a peg or two before I’m finished,” Robin promised as he disappeared into the tree.

  His cousins backed away from the overhanging branches. Craning their necks, they stared up at the two boys climbing higher and higher into the tree. They were unaware of being observed by a rider who, having seen the little group, had halted his horse along the drive, curious.

  Robin continued to climb higher, but he was definitely not enjoying the experience. His face flushed, his breathing coming quickly with anxiety, Robin glanced around, wondering what had happened to Conny Brady. He had been above him not a moment before. Thinking that he might have fallen and feeling a certain guilty concern, Robin quickly glanced down. He wished he hadn’t, for the world swirled and spun, and the branches looked as if they were reaching out for him.

  Robin closed his eyes, pressing his hot cheek against the rough bark of the tree trunk and gaining some comfort from the sturdy feel of it. With a sigh, Robin felt the sky and earth right themselves, steadying enough for him to regain his balance. He managed to keep his luncheon inside his churning stomach, but just barely.

  “You all right, Robin?” a voice called from somewhere far below, reminding Robin of exactly how far aboveground he was. He stared out toward the hills in the distance, then closer, at the roof of his home. It was a view never seen before, and as he thought about it, he realized he really did not care to see Camareigh from this perspective again.

  “Robin! Can you hear me?” Stuart called up. His cousin certainly had more courage than he did, climbing up into the top of that tree!

  “Cat got your tongue?” Conny called, startling Stuart, for the voice came from right beside him.

  “How did you get down? I thought you were even higher up than Robin,” he exclaimed.

  Conny gave him an incredulous look. “Ye think I’m crazy enough to go that high?” he demanded, chuckling as he saw his enemy stuck at the top of the tree. Robin was apparently holding on for dear life. “Reckon some folk be dumber than they look.”

  “And some people should know better, Master Brady,” said a deep voice from behind the children.

  Conny spun around, blinking nervously. “Mr. Marlowe, sir!”

  Alastair eyed the Sea Dragon’s former cabin boy. “Now, Master Brady, who is the unfortunate lad you’ve made game of? And who,” he added with a worried glance upward, “now seems to be stuck?”

  “That’s my cousin Lord Robin Dominick,” Anna declared, her eyes full of tears as she imagined the funeral they most likely would be having to honor the recently deceased Robin Dominick.

  “Lady Rhea Claire’s little brother?” Alastair demanded incredulously. Conny must have lost his mind. He was, after all, a guest at Camareigh, and as such he shouldn’t be putting one of the family in danger.

  Conny hunched his shoulders, a defiant glint in his eye, and stood his ground. “Reckon he knows what he’s doin’. Leastwise, so he’s been braggin’ to everyone. ’Course, he don’t seem to be laughin’ so hard now,” Conny couldn’t help but add, and Alastair, dismounting, caught the satisfied smile.

  “You going to leave him up there, Master Brady?” Alastair asked quietly.

  Conny eyed his former shipmate carefully. Mr. Marlowe didn’t seem overly concerned about Lord Robin’s predicament. “He climbed up there without any help from me.”

  “Aye, but then he probably wasn’t thinking clearly, was he? You made him mad with your insults,” Alastair guessed.

  Conny glanced at him, startled. How had he known? “Reckon Lord Robin can get down well enough,” Conny said confidently, but when he risked a glance to the top of the tree, Lord Robin Dominick was still clinging to the same place. “Reckon if he was in need of help, he’d call out.”

  Alastair smiled. “You know he won’t, Conny. You wouldn’t, would you? You wouldn’t lose face before your enemy,” he commented, correctly guessing the situation.

  “Robin sure can be stubborn sometimes,” Stuart confided, confirming Alastair’s thoughts. “Robin likes his own way. He always manages to get us in trouble, but he’s not a bad fellow, really he isn’t. I know if I needed help, he’d be right there,” Stuart continued, thinking of the time he’d gotten his hand stuck down the neck of a valuable vase and Robin had helped him get it loose. Of course, it had been Robin who’d hidden the shoe buckle in there in the first place. “Maybe I ought to go get Uncle Lucien?”

  Alastair frowned, then shook his
head emphatically. “I do not think it will be necessary to inform His Grace. Let us wait a few minutes more,” he suggested, hoping that either the duke’s son would find the courage to climb down, or…

  But he didn’t have to wait for long, because Conny was suddenly climbing back up the tree, this time to help his bitter rival. Alastair nodded. He hadn’t misjudged the lad. Or perhaps it was the thought of the Duke of Camareigh standing here looking up at his son that had stirred Conny.

  Several silent minutes passed before they caught sight of Conny’s small figure nearing the place where Robin roosted.

  “Aren’t you worried that Conny’ll get stuck up there too?” Stuart asked.

  Alastair glanced down at the redheaded lad, then at the other two redheaded children, their expressions mirroring genuine concern for the two boys. “No, Conny has climbed to comparable heights since he was breeched. He’s like a monkey. You’ll notice that he took off his shoes. ’Twill give him better footing. Besides, Conny has no fear of heights. He’ll bring down young Lord Robin,” Alastair said reassuringly, but if they had glanced behind his back, they would have seen his fingers crossed.

  “Lord Robin?” Conny said, standing on a thick bough just below Robin’s booted feet.

  There was no response. “I was thinking that I was wrong. Ye certainly might make a sailor. Not many of the mates like to climb up so high. In fact, they have to be ordered to by the cap’n. Well, reckon I’m headin’ down now. Figure Mrs. Peacham might have some more of them hot tarts comin’ out of the oven,” Conny said. “If ye be comin’, then I’ll wait for ye. Here, sit down on that limb, and I’ll give ye a hand down to this one. Could use a hand, myself,” Conny lied, thinking that Robin wasn’t going to budge, and then they’d both be in trouble with His Grace.

  Conny was about to give up when Robin moved his foot, and then his legs were dangling down. With his hand in Conny’s, Robin slid down beside Conny on the lower branch.

  Robin pulled his gaze away from the tilting sky and met Conny’s dark blue eyes. He stared at him for a moment. Finding no derision or gloating in Conny’s expression, he said, “Thank you. You didn’t have to come back up, but you did. So I figure you win, Conny Brady.”

  Conny was startled. He had not expected so generous a remark, and certainly not a capitulation from someone he’d thought to be little more than a spoiled brat.

  Conny smiled self-consciously. “Reckon ye did real well considerin’ ye’d never climbed the riggin’ before. Wish I could say I’d done as well on horseback.”

  The two boys made their way back down the tree, moving slowly this time. Gradually faces below became more than just blurs. And as the two climbed down to the lowest branches, Robin paused to catch his breath.

  “Reckon those tarts might still be warm?” he asked.

  “Aye, reckon so,” Conny replied.

  “Actually, you’ve been doing quite well, considering you’ve never ridden horseback before.”

  “Ye think so, Lord Robin?” Conny asked, surprised and pleased by the compliment.

  “Aye, I reckon so,” Robin grinned, and it was the first time he had looked upon Conny with anything but dislike. “Butterick is the best. He’ll have you riding so well that by next week you’ll be able to jump the yew hedge in the south gardens,” Robin predicted.

  “Ye really think so?” Conny asked doubtfully, thinking he’d be satisfied just to stay on the horse’s back.

  “Well, I see you both made it back down without incident,” Alastair commented, eyeing the two boys as they dropped to the ground from the lowest branch.

  “Oh, aye, Mr. Marlowe, ’twas nothin’ to it, eh, Lord Robin?” Conny asked with a wink.

  “Nothin’ to it,” Robin replied stoutly, much to his cousins’ amazement and admiration.

  “Weren’t you scared, Robin? You sure looked green in the face from where we were standing,” Stuart wanted to know. “I thought you were going to get sick.”

  “I thought you were going to fall,” Anne said, thinking Robin was very brave indeed.

  “And I thought you were going to land on top of us,” Maggie chimed in.

  But Robin maintained his calm demeanor while he explained the intricacies of his climb in detail. Now that he was safely back on the ground, he described most glowingly the wonderful view he had seen from on high.

  Leading his horse, Alastair walked alongside the little group as they made their way back to the big house. He didn’t mind the company, for he had been apprehensive of approaching the home of the Duke of Camareigh, even though he had a proper invitation tucked safely away in his coat pocket.

  “This is Mr. Marlowe, Lord Robin,” Conny made the introduction. “He was the supercargo aboard the Sea Dragon, and is probably the cap’n’s best friend. And a finer gentleman ye’ll not be findin’ anywhere, says Mr. Kirby,” Conny boasted, thinking Mr. Marlowe looked quite the gentleman in his fine gray frock coat and breeches, his boots as shiny as new guineas and three times as expensive, Conny guessed.

  Alastair looked embarrassed when seven pairs of curious eyes were suddenly trained on him. “Well, that is very kind of you, Conny, but I certainly make no claim to being the captain’s best friend. I just did my duty while serving aboard the Sea Dragon,” Alastair said modestly.

  “Mr. Kirby says Mr. Marlowe never takes full credit for anythin’ unless ’tis some mistake, then he’s ownin’ up to it like a decent man oughta,” Conny stated. He proceeded to regale the awestruck Fletcher children with some of his former shipmate’s more daring exploits.

  “Did you really find a sunken galleon, Mr. Marlowe?”

  “Did you really swim in the sea?”

  “Did you see any sea monsters?”

  Alastair was still trying to satisfy their curiosity when he first set foot inside the hallowed halls of Camareigh, passing beneath the noble coat of arms of the Dominick family. The arms were emblazoned with the motto, “Yield Not Truth, Valor, or Purpose.”

  Alastair, who had faced many a bloodthirsty foe while serving aboard the Sea Dragon, was almost sorry to see the children leave once they had entered the hall. It was crowded with liveried footmen, who were standing under the critical eye of a very haughty-seeming old man called Mason, who had probably been the butler at Camareigh for close to a century, or so Alastair surmised. Escorted into the Chinese Room, Conny having scurried off to tell the captain that Alastair had arrived, Alastair anxiously awaited the arrival of his host and hostess. Never before had he been in such exalted surroundings, and he expected that already half of London was here for the Grand Ball held in honor of the duke and duchess’s daughter and son-in-law.

  “Alastair! You’ve come!” Turning around, Alastair smiled into that violet-eyed gaze.

  “Lady Rhea Claire,” he murmured, thinking that his memory had played him false, for dressed in a gown of rose brocade trimmed with lace, she was more beautiful than he had remembered, and he found himself staring dumbly at her.

  “’Tis wonderful to see you again,” Rhea said, holding out her hands in welcome. “Alastair?” she spoke again, her smile fading. “Is something amiss? You’re not ill?”

  “Forgive me, Lady Rhea Claire,” Alastair apologized as he took her outstretched hands in his, “but the sight of you brought back so many memories.”

  “I know. I often find myself thinking of those days,” Rhea confided.

  “The crew would be pleased to see that you are wearing their gift and that they have not been forgotten,” he said as he spied the jeweled brooch gracing the white satin of her stomacher.

  “Never,” she promised. “Have you seen any of them since we parted in London?” she asked. But before Alastair could respond, the door opened and a tall figure strode toward the two people standing so close together, their hands still clasped.

  “Alastair. I thought you had forgotten us,” Dante said. Holding
out his hand, he watched the quick unclasping of their hands and the slightly guilty look on his former supercargo’s face. But then, he had always known that Alastair was in love with Rhea.

  “Captain, ’tis good to see you looking so well, and I—”

  “Not ‘Captain.’ Have you forgotten that I am now respectable?” Dante asked, sliding his arms around Rhea’s waist.

  “You were always quite respectable in our eyes, m’lord,” Alastair said quite seriously.

  “I am not ‘m’lord’ to my friends. Please remember that,” Dante ordered, his voice sounding like an echo from the days aboard the Sea Dragon. “And I seem to remember a time when you thought me not respectable enough to pursue Rhea. Since you are slightly more respectable than I am, did you harbor thoughts of engaging the lady’s affections yourself?” Dante asked with a smile.

  “Dante, really.” Rhea laughed, wondering what had gotten into Dante.

  Alastair eyed his former captain nervously. He had seen that glint in the narrowed eyes too often not to heed its warning. “How can any man not be half in love with so beautiful a lady? However, since the lady is spoken for, there can be nothing for me but to compose lovesick poems and adopt an attitude of abject despair,” Alastair jested.

  “I do seem to have the devil’s own luck, do I not?” Dante said and smiled.

  “Aye, Cap’n, that ye do,” Alastair said, breathing easier. “And may I extend my deepest and sincerest felicitations on the birth of your son? I heard the news when I was in London. I am afraid that gossip is still rampant where the captain of the Sea Dragon is concerned,” the sensitive Alastair admitted, his face flushing with anger when he remembered some of the more outrageous remarks he had overheard.

  “Thank you.” Dante spoke softly, his eyes meeting Rhea’s and mirroring that extraordinary pride he had felt upon seeing his son for the first time.

  “I must admit I was surprised. I had no idea,” Alastair said, glancing between Rhea and Dante.