Dark Shadows (28 page)

Chapter Forty-Six

Mercy lay awake and stared at the ceiling. Candles were lit, the fire was blazing, and her headache was receding. Abby had just bathed her, and she wore a clean cotton nightgown. Abby sat in an armchair, watching her as always. The poor girl had not left her side in days. Mercy had seen her face every time she’d opened her eyes, even when it was for just a moment.

The door opened, and Belle walked in. Mercy held out her hand, and Belle came to sit on the bed. She held Mercy’s hand and kissed it. “I love you very much, Mercy; you must know that. You gave us all quite a scare,” she said, stroking Mercy’s forehead.

“Jacob has gone, hasn’t he?” Mercy whispered.

Belle nodded, unable to say the word yes.

Mercy cried softly, without strength, to vent her sorrow. She lay listless, staring again at the ceiling, and then looked once more at Belle. “There was nothing else he could do. I understand him, but I feel dead inside, Belle. All my hopes and dreams – gone.”

“No, darling. You mustn’t think like that,” Belle told her, but without conviction. “Love finds a way. It always does.”

Mercy gave her a weak smile and then squeezed Belle’s hand. “Jacob gave me life. He saved me more than once. I will always love him – always. Without him, I would never have known the meaning of happiness. My heart was full of it. I suppose my memories of him will have to be enough for me now.”

“No, you’re wrong. Many paths will be open for you, and along the way, you will find love again. Even I believe we can love more than once. I also believe that great things can happen. Opportunities are endless on our journey through life. As God is my witness, I’ll pray every day for you, and I’ll ask for love to find you.”

Mercy closed her eyes, yet tears managed to squeeze between her eyelids. “As soon as I feel well enough to get up, I’ll leave. How long do I have before Jacob returns?”

“A week – eight days, maybe. Mercy, please don’t think badly of Jacob. He couldn’t say goodbye to you. You were still too ill. He didn’t want to upset you when you were finally sleeping peacefully. You slept for two whole days, and your fever has gone. He left a letter for you.” She watched Mercy’s face as Mercy digested her words. “Do you want to read it when you’re alone?”

“No. Read it to me. Please.”

Belle’s hands were shaking as she dismissed Abby. “Bring tea for Miss Mercy and me,” she ordered before Abby left. “And something light to eat for Miss Mercy too.

“Are you sure you don’t want to read this alone?” Belle asked, clearly hoping Mercy would not make her say Jacob’s words aloud.

“Read it. My eyes hurt. I need you to read it for me.”

Belle nodded and took the letter out of her dress pocket.

My dearest Mercy,

I know that you must hate me, and I can’t blame you. I want you to despise me, for I have been dishonest and unspeakably cruel to you.

I want you to know that my love for you is sincere in every way. You are the love of my life. You will always be in my heart, filling it with joy but also with immeasurable regret because of what I must do. There will not be a day that goes by when I don’t think of you and when I don’t hate myself and wish that I had done things differently. I have ordered Isaac to open an account for you in the Portsmouth bank. I refuse to allow you to say no to the money that will be placed there for you.

Belle and Hendry have a house in Portsmouth, and it is yours to live in. We are only a few miles apart. I pray that you will wait for me and grant me the opportunity to convince you that this marriage to Elizabeth will not deter me from having a future with you. I will find a way to resolve this.

I realise I am asking much from you, but I promise you that love can and will overcome all. You and I are meant to be together, Mercy. Please, please wait for me, and let me prove to you that even if I have to leave my home and disappear with you to wherever the wind takes us, I will do it. I
will
do it, Mercy. I have the money and the means to begin a new life. Belle and Hendry are with me on this decision. I just need time.

My love always,

Jacob

Chapter Forty-Seven

Isaac settled Mercy and Belle into the carriage and took one last look at the house, which held fond memories.

The carriage was quite luxurious, with thick curtains on the windows and velvet seats – one for Belle and him, and the other long enough for Mercy to curl up on. There were bearskin blankets, pillows, and flasks of hot drinks, including even more chicken broth, which Mercy had sworn never to drink again after being forced to taste it for nine consecutive days.

Handel and Abby followed in another carriage, which carried the women’s belongings. It would be their jobs to look after Mercy.

              Belle was going to visit with her parents, whose grand town house in the city of Portsmouth was situated in a highly populated residential area just off the long tree-lined street at the heart of the city.

Belle thought about Jacob and the look of misery on his face when he left for his wedding. He’d looked at her, made her promise to look after Mercy, and said, “The next time I set foot in this house, I’ll be married to the wrong woman. How ironic God is.”

Belle had the strength not to display pity or sorrow at Jacob’s plight. She had urged him to part on good terms with Isaac, but they had parted with a handshake and just one word: goodbye. She watched Isaac look back at the house, sensing that he would never return and that this would be another regret that Jacob would have to live with.

Mercy snuggled down under her blanket and smiled at Belle and Isaac. As the carriage left Stone Plantation’s fine arched entrance, she wondered if she would ever again set foot in it. Once again, her path had been diverted in an instant, her destiny changed, and her dreams shattered.

With her eyes closed, she concentrated on the smooth rocking movement of the carriage over ground that had shed the snow, so deep on that fateful day. It lay only on higher ground now and in small, sparse patches, thanks to a week of mild weather over Christmas. Mercy heard Isaac speaking to Belle. He had saved her life. She would always admire and love Isaac.
He’s so kind.
That was her last thought before a deep, dreamless sleep took hold.

Watching Mercy sleep, Isaac wondered what it would be like to hold her in his arms, to see her look at him in the same way she looked at Jacob. During his heated argument with Jacob, he hadn’t denied his feelings for her. He wished he could take back some of the spiteful words spoken. He wished he didn’t have the feelings he had or the bitterness that grew every day. He would make Mercy a happy woman and give her a grand future if she were his. If only she would let Jacob go …

He would remain in Portsmouth for a week or so. He would try to convince Mercy to leave with him. If she refused, he would begin the long journey home to Boston alone.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Mercy was feeling better; so much so that she decided to take a walk to the haberdashery store to purchase ribbons for the belated Christmas party to be held that very evening at Belle’s parents’ house. Abby had asked to join her, but Mercy had ordered the slave to stay home. She had not been left alone since her arrival and wanted nothing more than time to herself and a brisk walk. Abby insisted that she take her medicine. Mercy was not keen on this idea. It made her light-headed and sleepy. But she relented after being threatened with, “Miss Mercy, I’ll be telling Mr Isaac you be disobeying his orders.”

As she left the house, she laughed. She was taking orders from a slave and obeying them!

Out on the street, she breathed in the crisp, fresh air under a blue sky and thought again about just how lucky she was to be alive. Hendry was home, and Jacob would be at Stone Plantation with his new wife – yet she was happy. He was close by, and any day now, he would find an excuse to come to her. Life was short, she kept reminding herself. Happiness was fleeting. She had tasted it, wanted more, and would fight teeth and bone to hold on to it.

She felt no jealousy towards Elizabeth – she pitied her. Jacob loved
her
. Soon Elizabeth would come to realise this and give him up, for what woman would want to be with a man who loved another? She saw no happiness in her life without Jacob. No moon would look bright, no sun would warm her, and no other man would take his place in her heart. She was a mistress now, and it was an ugly word, but she was sure that one day she would be his wife. She would hold on to that dream.

She was immediately taken by Portsmouth’s beauty and character. Its long main road was lined with tall trees, giving it a country air. Shops were colourful, with wooden slats painted in white, cream, and terracotta. There was an array of small tea rooms with terraces looking onto the street, which Mercy could envisage being comfortable and cool in summertime.

A beautiful old church sat on the corner of a row of shops. She noticed a small gate and entered, following a path which took her to the rear of the building, where she found a graveyard. Some of the headstones were so old that the names written there had all but faded into the stone itself. She did see a few that clearly belonged to the long-dead soldiers who had fought in 1776 to free America from Britain. People had left plants and flowers. The graves were extremely well cared for. She left the church and decided to go straight to the Haberdashery before having a more in-depth look at the city centre. Belle had given her directions. Having only one road to manoeuvre, Mercy had to walk just a few hundred feet before the shop came into view.

Eddie Gunn stood just outside a saloon in Portsmouth and spotted the woman walking gracefully down the street towards him. He recognised her immediately, and his mouth gaped open with surprise and shock. Mercy Carver. He’d never forget that name, that face, or that body naked in the stable. Mercy Carver, the troublemaker, the girl who would have gotten her throat cut on that very first day had she not been a high-value virgin.

He slid around the nearest corner, wondering what to do. Mrs Mallory, as he’d been repeatedly reminded to call her, was at a party. She’d been quite the popular guest of Norfolk’s and Portsmouth’s finest families lately, with her tales of widowhood and cotton factories gaining her the respect and admiration she’d been determined to find in this backward country.

Her new farm, sitting to the west of Portsmouth on prime land, had also endeared her to the plantation belt. She’d be gone till tomorrow, Eddie thought. She would curse the world if she knew Mercy Carver was here, able to point the finger at her, reveal her for what she was and what she’d done. If truth be told, he was just as worried. He didn’t know the law here or what the law would do if the Carver woman accused him of abduction. How the bloody hell had she ended up here? That’s what he wanted to know. How did she get on a ship? Why was she dressed in finery? Who was her benefactor? She’d have him in jail before the bloody cock crowed. She probably had some old git looking after her for sexual favours – or worse, who knew the bloody sheriff!

He was sweating now. What would Mallory want him to do? He laughed. It was obvious what Mallory would want to do – he would have to kill her, and it would have to be done quickly.

Eddie thanked God that Mallory had all that land now. She could start another graveyard like the one she’d had back in Liverpool, if she had a mind to. He had a gun: a Colt in a holster. It was easy to get guns here. He had a brand-new rifle and two more guns back at the farm too.
Never met a savage Indian yet, though,
he thought, getting easily distracted after a few whiskies.

He cautiously peeked out from a porch and saw Mercy go into a shop. A plan was beginning to form in his mind. He still had his skills. Abduction was what he was good at – he just hadn’t done it in this country yet. He concentrated now.

His horse and trap were tethered with Moses, his slave, just a short distance from where he stood and not far from the shop she’d gone into, no more than a hundred yards away. Mercy Carver was feisty; he knew that. She wouldn’t go with him without a fight. But she was up against the best, he reminded himself. He’d abducted her before, and he’d do it again.

Mercy left the Haberdashery, telling the woman who owned it that she would be back to pick up her packages. She had decided to buy some wool. She would knit a shawl for the baby. It would be a nice surprise for Belle. She turned left and walked towards the restaurant she had seen earlier. She was beginning to feel light-headed after having spent so much time recently indoors and was surprised at how tired she felt after just a short walk. As she walked, a feeling of peace swept over her. She was a stranger here, yet she felt at home.

A hard pointed instrument poked her back, and a strong hand grabbed her shoulder. The sound she heard sent her mind into turmoil. So shocked was she to hear Eddie’s threatening voice in her ear that she froze, paralysed, stricken with fear and unable to scream, run, or answer. His words echoed loudly in her mind, though in reality they were whispered softly.

“Move forward. Don’t speak, don’t struggle, and I won’t shoot you where you stand. Smile and nod your head.”

Mercy nodded, and he punched the gun into the small of her back again. She wanted to say something. Why couldn’t she speak? Dizziness washed over her again.

She walked in a daze, pinned between Eddie and the row of shops. Eddie ran the gun teasingly up and down the side of her body. He stopped abruptly and spoke to a slave standing by a two-horse trap. “Be as quick and as discreet as you can, Moses, in getting me and my friend here home.” He dug the gun in even deeper, until Mercy thought her ribcage might crack.

Eddie pressed her body against the small door of the trap. He moved the hair covering her ear and whispered again. “Get up into the seat and smile at anyone who passes by. I swear to almighty God, if you make a spectacle of yourself, this gun will make a hole in your back and the bullet will fly out your stomach.” He opened the gate door and bowed in a gentlemanly fashion for effect.

As Mercy put her foot on the step, her leg gave way. Eddie held her up with one hand under her arm, pushed her onto the seat, and then jumped up quickly, all with the agility of a cat, to sit beside her. She looked down at her side just above her waist and saw the glint of his gun peeking out of his jacket, resting over his arm. He punched the gun into her again, smiling sweetly at the same time.

“Just a short drive for you and me, Mercy Carver. Then we’ll have a nice little chat. What do you think of that, eh? Happy to see your old pal Eddie again?”

She still felt light-headed. She wished she hadn’t taken that medicine before she left home. It was clouding her mind and slowing her down. She felt as though her brain had been pickled. Eddie was speaking, but his words were coming out of his mouth in slow motion and made no sense whatsoever. Her movements were lethargic. Her arms felt heavy. Even her head felt too heavy for her body to support.

She wanted to live. She wanted to see Jacob again and feel safe in his arms. But for the life of her, she couldn’t snap out of the drowsiness that had taken hold.

She looked at the back of the driver’s shiny bald black head and wondered why he was not helping her to escape Eddie. As the trap sped down the road, she knew her life was in danger. At the very least, she should scream, gun or no gun. But Eddie was evil and
would
kill her, even if it meant he had to make a run for it afterwards.

She finally found her voice, but it was slurred. She sounded like a drunken man. She ignored Eddie and talked directly to the slave as he pushed the horses into a soft canter through a quiet hedge-lined lane. “I don’t know your name, but they’ll hang you for this. Is that what you want? This is a bad man. His name is Eddie, and he kills women. If you stop now and help me, I’ll make sure you’re rewarded. I’ll get them to set you free. I know people.” There was no response.

Mercy cursed Abby again for making her drink the bloody medicine that she normally took before a nap. Then she cursed herself, for ultimately she was the one who’d drunk the bleedin’ stuff. God’s grace, if only she didn’t feel so dizzy or relaxed. If only her mouth weren’t so dry. If only she could think straight!

Eddie laughed. Mercy’s body was swaying next to him. “What’s up with you? You sound like a halfwit. Where’s that Mercy Carver spirit we all hated, eh? Gone soft, have you?” He laughed again and pushed her body into the corner of the seat, where the half canopy hid most of her from sight. He moved along the seat with her until there was not an inch of space between their bodies. He put his arm around her shoulder and continued to smile and make small talk about how nice the weather was. They were taking back streets where there were very few houses.

Mercy panicked. Her heart was thumping, yet she was not displaying her terror. She tried, with great effort, to free herself from Eddie’s grasp, but she was as weak as a day-old babe. She looked around her, and trees, houses, and the road began to jump and sway before her eyes. Eddie was saying something about getting a warm welcome from Mrs Mallory. She looked at him through her blurred vision and said, “Who is Mrs Mallory?”

“Oh, that would be Madame du Pont to you, Carver.”

Her head fell forward, and white spots bolted in and out of her vision. She repeated the name: du Pont. She was going to die today.

Eddie watched her head loll to the side. Her eyes were closed. He was thrilled but not exactly sure what was up with the girl, the same girl who’d put the missus’s patience to the test: It had all been too easy. She was too easy? He’d taken risks, as always, but this was not London, and the street had been almost empty where he’d found her. It was probably too cold for these Southern gentry. He quietly despised the lot of them. He’d come to what he could only describe as a small kingdom, with exaggerated politeness and protocols; weak, tasteless beer; and bitter whisky, and where every white man was king to his black subjects. Christ, this had been the best day he’d had here so far, he thought. He was actually beginning to enjoy himself.

He looked at the woman next to him – Mercy bloody Carver, all weak and submissive. Not what he’d expected from her.

He thought about what to do when they got home. He’d fuck her; that was as sure as his next beer being served to him by one of them black slaves in the house. He’d keep Carver alive until the missus got back tomorrow morning. He’d demand a nice bonus and the pleasure of watching Du Pont kill her in any way she saw fit.