Capturing the Pirate's Heart (The Emerald Quest Book 1) (2 page)

Madeleine Bellerose pressed her
fingers to the cool glass of the window and stared out over the green lawn
surrounding the family manor. The glass was latticed with diamond panels of
soft lead and if she squeezed her eyes half-shut and distorted her vision, she
could pretend that the carriage coming across the small bridge at the end of
the quarter mile driveway carried Mother and Father home from one of their
visits to the nearby village of Danesthorpe. She scrunched her eyes shut to
stop the hot tears from sliding down her cheek. Ever since she had been a
little girl Father had brought her pretty ribbons from the haberdashers, and
Mother would frown and tell him he spoiled his only daughter. Now that she was
a young woman, Madeleine had still enjoyed his loving gifts.

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.”

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 pointed 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.”

Madeleine was tempted to seek
Jake’s assistance and tell him of her plan to escape. He seemed to know the
town and she would have to find a very good hiding place so Uncle Titus
couldn’t find her. If it was a small settlement, it may be difficult to find
her way. A young woman on her own, not knowing the streets around the town,
would be fair game for the fur trappers, pirates, and slave traders that Jake
had spoken of.

Madeleine frowned as she
considered her options. If she had Jake as an ally, he could perhaps tell her
uncle that she had fallen overboard while he was asleep and had not resurfaced.

And then Uncle Titus wouldn’t
even look for her.

But no, she could not involve
anybody else.

Not yet
. She would give it some thought
as they approached the settlement ahead.
Jake was
called to the wheel house by the first mate, and Madeleine grimaced as he
received a cuff under the ear. Life at sea was hard and violent, but young Jake
seemed to take it in his stride. She moved into the shadows at the back of the
boat, clasping her hands to her chest as the land got closer and anticipation
filled her.

***

It had taken two days for the
Maiden
to travel across the Gulf of Mexico. His half-brother, Jean-Luc had not been at
the outpost in Bay St. Louis and had left word for Sébastien to sail up the
Mississippi River to New Orleans. They had replaced their pirate flag with the
flag of the Leclerc shipping company before they reached the delta. Sébastien
ignored the few ships they had passed in the Gulf. It was time for business,
not for privateering. A small frigate flying the British flag was now ahead of
them as the incoming tide carried them along the Mississippi River toward New
Orleans and its captain paid close attention to the
Maiden
as they
passed her.

“Oy, I’ll have a bit of that.”
The raucous comment of one of his crew drew a frown from Sébastien, and he
glanced at the object of the crewman’s attention. A young woman stood in the
shadows at the side of the British frigate, watching the dolphins jumping
joyfully in the wake of the boat. A dark bonnet hid her hair and she was
clothed in a black dress. As he watched, she lifted her head and caught his
gaze.

He lifted a hand and
acknowledged her as the boat drew abeam of his vessel. He smiled back as her
face lit up in a broad grin. She lifted her hand to return his wave but
obviously thought better of it. She dropped her head and turned away. Sébastien
caught a quick glimpse of a fair complexion touched with red roses high on her
cheeks. At close inspection, her bonnet was black, as was her dress, and he
wondered why a woman of such youth would be in mourning. He watched with
interest as a tall, thin man in a long dark coat moved from the middle of the
deck and grabbed her arm. He was in the dress of a clergyman…more commonly
referred to as a devil dodger by his irreverent crew.

“Madeleine, you are not to be
above deck.” His angry words reached Sébastien as the man pulled her roughly to
her feet. “Those sailors are ogling you. It is not fitting for a woman to be
looked at by such men. Get below immediately.” The man, who he assumed was her
husband, had called her Madeleine; his voice had been loud and angry enough to
carry across the water. For a fleeting moment, Sébastien regretted not being
close enough to intercede on the young woman’s behalf. He shook his head and
chased away the gallant thought. If her husband had told her to stay below
deck, she should have obeyed.

Obviously not a widow, then.

But there was no need to be so
rough and manhandle her. Her husband held her tightly as he pushed her toward
the middle of the boat where the ladder went below deck. Sébastien’s interest
was distracted as the first mate called for his attention, and he quickly
forgot about the young woman as they prepared to dock.

It took another two hours to
reach the final bend in the river and approach the busy port ahead. The wharf
at New Orleans was bustling with people as captains prepared to discharge their
cargo and passengers. Arrivals and departures of vessels were dependent on the
tide of the mighty river as the tide ebbed and flowed and there was always a
wait before they could quay. Today seemed busier than most and Sébastien
sighed. It would be good to leave this behind him and stand looking over his
own fields of sugar, on an island far removed from the bustle of this busy port
town. A foreman cracked his whip at a dozen slaves chained together, walking
slowly along the edge of the wharf. From the boat to the north of his vessel,
dark-skinned men began to emerge into the daylight, their feet and hands still
secured with chains and they looked around, their expressions closed as they
walked down the gangplank toward the quay. The British frigate was coming in to
moor to the south of them and Sébastien smiled to himself. The English rose was
back on the upper deck leaning over and watching the activity on the land.
There was no sign of her husband. He wondered why a well dressed woman such as
herself was travelling on a British cargo frigate to the colonies.

“Take over from me.” Sébastien
turned to his first mate and pointed to the small group of slaves standing
together at the back of his vessel. “Put them below. I shall decide where they
will go later.” Pulling off his shirt, he swung himself to the mast and began
to climb the rigging. From his vantage point high up the mast, he could see
across Decatur Street and into Jackson Square where the governor stayed when he
was in New Orleans. He squinted into the lowering sun as the bright light
reflected off the river. There was little sign of activity but the flag was
raised, indicating the governor was in residence. Sébastien heaved a sigh of
relief. He would have a leisurely meal at one of the taverns and perhaps seek
out some female company for the evening after he met with Governor Carondelet.
They had been at sea for a few weeks and a decent meal was not the only thing
his body required.

“Ahoy, Captain.”

Sébastien looked down as his
first mate called out to him and pointed up to the rigging above the main top.
“The rope is fouled and we can’t pull down the sail.”

He gave the first mate a wave
and swung himself from the platform, across the ropes, carefully keeping his
balance by holding onto the rope above his head as he stepped onto the loose
rigging which swayed as it took his weight. Cursing softly beneath his breath,
Sébastien looked up to the tangle of ropes above him.

“Holy Mother of Christ, how the
hell did that happen?” He shook his head as he muttered the angry words. He’d
be having strong words with the first mate about the slackness of the crew
member who was responsible for the state of the rigging. It had been satisfactory
last time Sébastien had checked but now, its condition was on the head of the
first mate and the crew member who had not paid enough attention to the ropes.
The first rule of Sébastien’s vessel was the care of the sails. He had been in
enough storms at sea to know the danger of rigging that was not well cared for.