Dark Before the Rising Sun (51 page)

“Oh, Charles, not now,” Bess said, cutting off his pleas, but when she saw his hurt expression, she relented. “I shall have to think about it. Ask me tomorrow, dear.”

“Yes, Mother,” Charles said in his usual subdued tone.

“You don't like Lady Jacqobi, Mother,” Anne said suddenly, much to Bess's surprise. “She is a very polite person, and I could see that she was trying to be very nice to you.”

“Nice? Pity, is what it was,” Bess said harshly, her anger spewing forth at last. “You could see it in those big violet eyes. Who ever heard of a person with violet eyes? Lord help me if I don't scratch them out,” Bess said, glancing back to make certain the grooms from Merdraco hadn't overheard.

“I don't understand you, Mother,” said Anne. Having never been in love, Anne couldn't understand the desperation her mother felt.

“That is because you are so damned young. Well, you just wait, my girl, until you are my age and you see the only man you have ever loved come swaggering home with a wealthy duke's beautiful daughter, and I'll wager you'll not be welcoming her with open arms. Talk about rotten luck,” Bess raged, her vision blurring with hot tears. “It isn't enough to have made a mistake, but to have to keep on paying for it, well, 'tis just too much. Who would have thought Dante would become the man he has? Or return to Merdraco as rich as Croesus? Lord, the infamy of it all,” Bess cried, wondering what more could happen.

“Mother?”

“What?” she sniffed, wiping away her tears with the back of a gloved hand.

“I think that is Jack Shelby coming toward us with some of his men,” Anne said in a quivering voice. She still had nightmares about the night Jack Shelby had attacked her mother.

Bess Seacombe could have cried all over again. Jack Shelby was fast becoming one of her more vexing problems. Sniffing back her tears, she raised a haughty chin and prepared to face whatever insults would come of this encounter. She was glad that Dante had insisted on sending the two grooms with them, not that either lad could really have done anything to help should Shelby turn meaner than normal.

“Well, well, what have we here?” his hateful voice called. Bess found herself shuddering at the mere sight of the man, for she could remember only too painfully the feel of his hands on her body. “Been out for a ride, have we?”

“How very observant,” Bess said.

“Still the uppity one, eh, Bessie?” he asked, thinking he'd never seen her looking more seductive. “Thought I'd taught you a lesson or two about not showin' me proper respect,” Shelby said with a meaningful glance at her bodice. The wild beating of her heart was causing the lacy jabot at her throat to flutter.

“It must have slipped my mind,” Bess remarked, as though anything he might have to say was not worth remembering.

“Ah, Bessie, you're quite a woman. Reckon I'll have to be teachin' ye that lesson again real soon. Only this time,” he said with a piercing glance at a pale-faced Anne, “I don't think there will be any interruptions. Will there, Annie girl?”

Bess saw the petrified expression in Anne's dark eyes and cursed Shelby to hell for frightening her daughter. “If you don't mind, we are in rather a hurry to reach Seawyck before it rains again,” Bess told him.

“Oh, well, by all means, m'lady. I wouldn't want ye catchin' your death of cold because of me,” Shelby said in elaborately polite tones, then asked with a suddenness that took Bess by surprise, “What ye been doin' on this path? It leads to Merdraco. Oh-ho, so you couldn't resist payin' a call on your old beau, eh, Bessie?” he said, roaring with laughter at her outraged expression.

“Get out of my way!”

“And how does he look to ye after all this time?” Shelby taunted unmercifully. “Reckon ye paid your respects to that pretty young thing he's brought back with him, eh, Bess, old girl? Now, that is one sweet little lady he's got warmin' his bed. Aye, that bastard always had an eye for a slim ankle.”

Bess glared at Shelby's gloating face, knowing how fast she could wipe away that grin. “We took tea at the lodge, which Lady Jacqobi has fixed up to look absolutely beautiful. And, of course, now that Lord Jacqobi has returned so wealthy, 'twill be no time at all before he has Merdraco looking just like it did years ago—perhaps even grander. Now that he has an heir to inherit Merdraco, the Leighton line will continue.”

Shelby's face changed with every word Bess uttered, and for a moment Bess was actually afraid. But he had pushed her too far, and the memory of that tender scene between Dante and Rhea still rankled, and she did not feel charitable toward anyone just then, least of all this swine.

“Reckon his lordship oughta be enjoyin' every single moment he's got, for he's not goin' to be around much longer to enjoy his money or that pretty wife. His son may inherit Merdraco a lot sooner than he thinks. He may have gotten away with it once, but he'll pay for killing my Lettie, you just wait and see,” Shelby vowed.

With a curt nod at Bess, he sent his horse down a narrow, twisting path that led off across the moor, his men following close behind. Shelby was one of the few men who knew how to steer clear of the dangerous bogs, and Bess could have sworn that she heard his laughter drifting back to them as the riders became specks in the distance.

“Mother?” Anne asked softly, but Bess pretended not to hear. “Mother, why didn't you say something? You could have told him that Lord Jacqobi didn't murder his daughter. You told me you had proof. Why did you let him go on believing that? Why did you let him threaten Lord Jacqobi like that? Why, Mother? What if he murders Dante Leighton? It will be your fault,” Anne said. And for the first time ever, when Bess met her daughter's dark eyes, she saw contempt. It struck deep into Bess's heart and soul as nothing else could have.

But having lived the lie for so long, she wondered what she could possibly do now. Was it not already too late to do anything about the secret she had kept for so many years?

* * *

“'Tis our secret, Robin,” Conny whispered between sips of hot chocolate.

“Aye. Just like pirates' buried treasure, eh, Conny?” Robin whispered back excitedly. Besides, he'd be in trouble if Rhea learned they had gone down to the beach in defiance of Dante's warning, and when Robin exchanged glances with Conny, who was keeping a careful eye on the captain, he knew that Conny was worrying about the very same thing.

So neither boy told about how they had nearly drowned. Neither boy talked about their dangerous climb up the slippery rocks, or about the cave. And neither boy revealed the astounding discovery of the underground passage they found leading out of the second cavern they fled into when the sea swelled into the cave. That tunnel, the sides and roof shored up with hand-hewn timbers of great age, led up through the darkness for what seemed like miles, to a flight of stone steps that led directly into the lodge. It was an exciting discovery, and they were sure that nobody else had made it.

That was why Kirby had not seen them return to the lodge. The boys had climbed the stone steps, which stopped before a wooden panel. Peering through a peephole that was disguised on the other side as a plain knothole, they stared in giggling amazement into the empty corridor leading back to the lodge kitchens. They slid back the panel, Robin's expertise with the secret passages of Camareigh helping to locate it, and emerged into the safety and warmth of their very own home. That was when Kirby spotted them, assuming they had entered through the kitchens.

Thus another secret came into their lives. It was a secret that might very well end in tragedy.

After a storm comes a calm.

—Matthew Henry

Great black curling plumes of smoke rose into the cloudless blue skies over Merdraco. Seeing from a distance the glowing copper flames tinged with indigo, one would have thought this was some bizarre
danse macabre
. In the courtyard the blackened skeletons of chairs and tables and chests were stacked high into a funeral pyre, purging Merdraco of the defilement perpetrated against it.

Dante stood close to the heat of the fire, raising his face to both sun and flame as he cleansed himself of the vileness and dishonor that had marked Merdraco. And like the immortal Phoenix rising from the ashes, Dante saw in the burning bright flames a new beginning for Merdraco.

The flames leaped high into the sky, trying to outdo the sun, but Dante continued to stand there in silence, honoring the memories of those Leightons who had gone before him and in whose name he would carry on the traditions of Merdraco.

Blinded by the dazzling light, Dante heard rather than saw the peregrine falcon soaring overhead in search of prey. His cry was the harsh, predatory cry of the hunter, but it lasted for only a second, and in the ensuing silence, Dante heard the soft, melodic cooing of a wood pigeon. It was the gentle song of that ringdove that remained in his thoughts, for at last he had found peace within himself. He had banished all the old, haunting memories, as well as purging Merdraco, so perhaps the dead could at last rest in peace and he could get on with the day-to-day joys and sorrows of living.

With a sigh of satisfaction, Dante turned away from the fire, which was consuming the past. He left to the workmen from Merleigh, who had arrived punctually that morning, the pleasure of completing the task he had started. Some pieces of furniture had escaped the flames. They were the ones that a little sanding and refinishing would restore. But Dante had not wanted them, and had told the workmen to keep whatever they felt they could use.

When they had first come into the courtyard and heard what he had to say, he had caught concerned glances exchanged among the men. But when they entered the great house, he saw that doubt turning to disgust, then to anger, for no decent man would condone what had taken place within the halls of Merdraco. Soon the men entered into the spirit of the purge. They made a giant bonfire, reminiscent of a Guy Fawkes celebration, only without an effigy to burn. But Dante, judging by the grumblings, thought the villagers had a likely candidate in mind. Everyone knew who had been behind the brutality.

Brushing the ash and cinders off his coat sleeve, Dante started to walk away. Then he paused to glance back at the men, laughing and joking while they stood around the bonfire watching the dancing flames. Dante had recognized William Brownwell and several others from the tavern in Merleigh, but what surprised him were the men he did not recognize, and whom he discovered came from Westlea Abbot. He stared thoughtfully at several of those men and reminded himself to thank Sir Jacob, for these were men who might very well be tenants of Sir Miles Sandbourne; yet they had come to Merdraco to work for him. He wondered if perhaps, over the years, Sir Miles's genial mask had slipped askew and others had come to see the corruption that lay beneath. But with Sir Jacob, still a highly respected gentleman, standing by his side, Dante thought he could win against Miles.

His step lighter than it had been for many a day, Dante walked past the stables to the arch, which led to another, smaller courtyard. He stopped for a moment, gathering his courage, then entered the small chapel where his mother and father were entombed. Until that moment, he had not been able to step into the cool darkness. He had been shamed by the past and what had happened to Merdraco because of his weaknesses. Because he had run away from his responsibilities and had failed to protect what was trusted to him, he had lost all that had been held sacred by his forebears.

But now he could face all of that and face the memory of his parents. He could make his peace with them without shame, for he had returned to Merdraco victorious. He had reassembled his father's beloved collection of fine objets d'art and regained the Leighton lands. And he had, he hoped, become a man his mother would be proud to call her son.

He had cheated Sir Miles of his revenge. And by doing that, he had avenged the crimes committed by Sir Miles against his parents.

Standing before their sepulchre, Dante, his head bowed, stared at their effigies. He reached out and touched the cold stone of his mother's cheek. “Too late,” he whispered. Then he abruptly turned away from the gloomy, damp, airless chamber.

Outside the air was thick with smoke which burned his eyes, and as Dante walked toward the fire, his eyes were luminous with tears. He breathed deeply of the smoky air, reveling in it, for it signaled the end of misfortune. Soon the winds from his beloved sea would catch the smoke and scatter the ashes.

Blinking away the tears, Dante glanced around the courtyard. He was seeing the great house, the stables, and the gardens as they had once been and how they would look one day soon.

Tomorrow the floors and walls would be scraped and scoured. A week later would be heard throughout the great house and across the courtyard the sound of saws and hammers as carpenters set to work replacing the rotten timbers and the shingles in the roof. The gaping holes in the floorboards and walls would be patched, sealing off the drafts that swept through the house. Then the windows would be repaired and new glass fitted into the countless panes. The blacksmith would forge new hinges and a lock so the iron gates would once again bar entry to trespassers. Merdraco would soon know again the sound of its master's voice echoing along the corridors and resounding throughout the great hall.

From London would come the finest architect to redesign many of the rooms, his specially trained artisans carving a new balustrade for the great staircase; putting in paneling and mantelpieces; creating elegant plaster ceilings to bring an airy lightness to the rooms of Merdraco; replacing the cracked and scarred marquetry floors. And from the most exclusive shops in the land would be chosen wallpaper and materials for chairs, settees, carpets, and draperies. And then, when all was as it should be, the treasured possessions that had graced the halls of Merdraco long ago would be sent for. And from the windows, with their sparkling panes of leaded glass, would be an expansive view of the gardens and arbors and terraced walks, the emerald green stretches of lawn and parkland, all brought back to life by a veritable army of gardeners who would weed and prune and plant.

As Dante began to see change taking place in his beloved Merdraco, that first day of beginnings passed. It gave way to another day and then another. The sun retreated against the fall of darkness, which in turn gave way to the moon's rising. The pale, silvery light spread across the black landscape, where shadows took on a life of their own.

And it was on such a night as that, when an ivory crescent of light traveled across the sky, that those shadows first began to threaten the peaceful existence that Rhea and Dante had established at the lodge. The day's activities were examined and discussed over a finely prepared meal served on the great banqueting table. Flickering light from several silver candelabra reflected the gleam of fine china and crystal. Lively conversation was punctuated by laughter while the diners lingered over dessert.

“Tell me more about this Charles Town smuggler called Bertie Mackay. Did he really wear black velvet breeches all the time?” Francis asked.

“Oh, aye, that he did,” Kirby confirmed, eyeing his dessert suspiciously because he hadn't been the one to prepare it. “But that wasn't the worst of it. 'Twas mostly the size of them breeches which caused so much concern among the townspeople. Just to make one pair took several yards of material. Seein' how he fancied wearin' a fresh pair every day, there never was so much as a black velvet ribband to be found in all the Carolinas. All the black velvet went into makin' breeches and jackets for Bertie Mackay. In fact, some said that half of what he smuggled into the Carolinas was black velvet cloth just to keep himself in breeches.”

Francis laughed. “I am not certain I believe you, Kirby.”

“Kirby is prejudiced, for he never cared much for our smuggling rival,” said Alastair.

“Aye, right ye are, Mr. Marlowe, for Bertie Mackay would have slit your throat from ear to ear as soon as smile at ye,” Kirby reminded his former mate. “Doesn't ever pay to let your guard down. There be folks out there just waitin' to catch ye dozin', mark my words,” Kirby pronounced with a worried glance at the captain, who, with a fine show of indolence, was slowly swirling brandy in a glass. Receiving no acknowledgment, Kirby sent a disgusted glance at Jamaica, who lay curled up before the hearth. “Reckon some folks and critters might be gettin' a bit soft nowadays. Reckon ol' Jamaica couldn't catch himself a fat old mouse even if it were sittin' before him on a platter.”

“Coooeee, that'd sure look funny,” Conny said with a wide grin. One of the maids grimaced with dismay, and Conny exchanged knowing glances with Robin, but before ideas could take root in their minds, Rhea coughed, drawing their attention.

“I think it is well past your bedtime, boys,” Rhea suggested, much to their displeasure despite the fact that both had been yawning widely.

But Rhea was adamant. She was beginning to remind Robin more and more of their mother. With a shrug of defeat, snatching a tart to be split between them later, Conny and Robin said good night. Their steps, interrupted by an occasional scuffling noise, faded up the stairs.

“I wonder what the big secret is that they've been keeping?” Francis asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

“You think they've been up to something?” Dante asked while he toyed with the dessert in front of him, most of which he had left uneaten.

“I know my brother too well not to be suspicious when things go too smoothly. I have been expecting to find something slimy and crawling in my bed each night, but as yet I have managed to escape their pranks,” Francis said.

“I think Conny must be a very good influence on Robin,” Rhea commented, much to the amusement of the captain and two of the crew.

“How did the stallion do when you took him back to Seawyck?” Dante startled Alastair by asking. Under those penetrating gray eyes Alastair found himself becoming flustered.

“Didn't limp at all. In fact, I had a devil of a time keeping him from racing most of the way there. I don't know how that woman controls him. I hate to admit it, but he was almost too much horse for me,” Alastair said with a shake of his light brown curls. He hoped that would end the subject, but the captain's eyes were too sharp, and Alastair heard him ask the question he dreaded hearing.

“Did you happen to see the lady of the manor? And, perhaps, her lovely daughter?” Dante's quiet tones always held a wealth of meaning.

Alastair actually blushed while stuttering out what he thought sounded like a reasonably intelligent reply. “Uh, yes.”

“And how were they?” Dante asked, enjoying teasing him. Alastair had been rather too eager in his offer to return Bristol Boy to Seawyck Manor, and had Dante not caught a certain look in Alastair's eyes when he gazed at Anne Seacombe the other day, he would have suspected his former supercargo of having a penchant for Bess.

But it was her daughter Alastair Marlowe was interested in, and that fact would be enough to set Bess off on another tirade, Dante thought. It was too obvious that she was becoming concerned about her age. As Dante thought of the possibility of Bess Seacombe becoming Alastair Marlowe's mother-in-law, he stared at Alastair with both amusement and pity. But that was years away, if at all. Still, Dante was pleased to see Alastair show an interest in courting. He was becoming annoyed by Alastair's constant attentions to Rhea.

“Quite well. Invited me in for tea,” Alastair finally admitted, much to Dante's and Francis's amusement. But Rhea was frowning slightly, for it sounded to her as if Dante were trying to elicit information about Bess from Alastair. In his next breath, Alastair confirmed the fact that Bess was trying to learn more about Dante's recent life.

“I felt as if I were being questioned by the Inquisition, so curious was Lady Bess about everything you've done, Captain,” Alastair said with a grin, getting even with his friend for putting him on the spot. Too late, he realized how that sounded to Rhea, and he glanced at her apologetically, but she was smiling politely.

“I am sure that Anne was impressed to hear of our privateering days. You did tell her, did you not, about finding that sunken Dutch merchantman?” Dante asked.

Alastair looked embarrassed. “Well, as a matter of fact, the subject did come up.”

“Don't suppose, though, that you told her about how we met the cap'n?” Kirby asked with a sly grin.

But Alastair surprised Kirby and his captain by his answer. “Why, yes, I did, much to the amusement of Lady Bess. She enjoyed hearing about your caped figure coming out of the gloom, the torches smoking and flickering in the rain,” Alastair said. It was a situation few men trying to impress a woman would have admitted to, since he had been drunk at the time and was being chased by a press-gang.

“I am sure the ladies were quite concerned to hear about the danger you were in,” Francis remarked with an understanding smile that should have warned Alastair.

“Yes, do you know, I believe they were, especially Anne. I really wasn't certain if I should continue with any more stories about our bloody battles,” Alastair said. If it had been anyone besides Alastair, they would have found his concern for the ladies' sensibilities quite suspect.

“But you did?” Dante asked.

“Well, yes, but only at Lady Bess's insistence. Rather bloodthirsty woman,” Alastair muttered, remembering how those dark eyes had shone with excitement.