Enchantress (29 page)

“That is correct also, Mr. Balsome. She was a stowaway at that time.”

Mr. Whitting, who wore thick bifocals that made his eyes appear twice their size, leaned into the table. “Are you aware that the Turkish government has lodged serious charges against you?” He shuffled some papers in front of him. “First of all, you stand accused of kidnapping the girl whom they claim is a Turkish citizen. They demand her release at once.”

“I did not kidnap her, and as I have told you over and over, she was a stowaway on my ship.”

Mr. Balsome spoke up. “Tell us what you know of the woman’s situation.”

“The lady’s name is Brittany Sinclair. Her father was an American, and her mother was British. Although she was born in Turkey, it is arguable as to whether or not she is a citizen of that country.”

“Do you know the girl’s whereabouts?”

“I do.”

“We may call upon you to produce her since the Turkish government demands her return.”

Thorn crossed his long legs and looked at each man in turn. “I am not prepared to tell you her whereabouts, and she will not be returning to Turkey under any circumstances.”

“Will you defy a direct order, Captain Stoddard?” Mr. Balsome challenged.

Thorn nodded. “You’re damn right I will in this case. You see, the lady in question has since become my wife, and I have no intentions of giving her up to my government or the Turkish government.”

Shock registered on Mr. Balsome’s face, while Mr. Whitting blustered, “This is preposterous.”

“Nevertheless, the lady is my wife. I foresaw that this might happen, and wanting to keep her out of Turkish hands, I
gave her the protection of my name. And I believe by law that gives her the protection of the American government.”

Mr. Balsome folded his hands and suddenly smiled. “By God, to think that you took on the Turkish Navy and won! Now you’ve outsmarted them again. I always said our ships were worth two of those from any other nation. But to sink four ships! My boy, I am amazed.”

Thorn came to his feet wearily. “Gentlemen, I believe I have answered all your questions to the best of my ability. My father is ill, and I have been away from my wife for three weeks, and I’m going home.”

Mr. Whitting stared down at a paper before him. “I am not at all convinced that you will not have to produce your wife, if she is indeed your wife.”

“She is. I can easily prove that—”

“Like my colleague, I, too, am impressed by your fighting ability,” Mr. Whitting interjected. “However, just between the three of us, we are dealing with a madman in Selim, and as a representative of our government, I may be forced to make a gesture of reparation in the sultan’s direction.”

Thorn stood unbending. “I don’t feel that I owe the Turkish government anything. Not the
Victorious
, and certainly not my wife.”

“Nevertheless,” Mr. Balsome stated, “it is my judgment that you will soon be ordered to hand over to a representative of the Turkish government your ship, the
Victorious.
We will decide later about your wife.”

Thorn stared at the man in disbelief, but he said nothing.

Mr. Whitting spoke with conviction. “And may the damned ship sink before the Turks have use of it.”

When Brittany entered the dining room, she was surprised to find Wilhelmina seated at the table. The older woman’s eyes were spiteful and knowing; there was no sign of her earlier display of friendship toward Brittany.

“Good morning, Brittany. So, your wayward husband still has not returned. Did you pass a peaceful night, hmm?”

Brittany picked up the porcelain teapot and poured a cup of reviving liquid. “I slept very well, thank you.” She moved to a chair and sat down.

“I suppose it is easy to sleep when one’s husband is not in one’s bed to disturb one’s rest.”

Brittany attempted to mask her anger. She detested this woman’s common insinuations. “What a considerate hostess you are, Wilhelmina, that you should concern yourself so much with my comfort.”

Wilhelmina’s eyes blazed with vindictiveness. “I am told that there are men still searching for your man, Achmed.”

“Yes. I have come to realize that Mr. Deavers only pretended to know where to find Achmed. I do not know his reasons for such a pretense, but I am certain Thorn will discover the truth when he gets home.”

Wilhelmina suddenly paled. “I hope you are not blaming me for your mishap. Dr. Cross and I were as shocked by what happened as you were. We trusted Mr. Deavers, but he misrepresented himself.”

Brittany looked directly into Wilhelmina’s eyes. “I have come to the same conclusion.”

“Do you really think it is necessary to tell Thorn what happened?”

“Why should I not?”

Wilhelmina leaned toward Brittany. “Thorn does not seem overly interested in your welfare. He has been away an uncommonly long time.”

Brittany would not give this woman the satisfaction of knowing the barb had wounded her. “I will not tell Thorn about the incident, but I feel certain Cappy will.”

Wilhelmina shoved her plate aside and studied Brittany with a practiced eye. “That man, Cappy, annoys me. Every time I turn around, he’s underfoot. I want you to tell him to leave immediately.”

“No,” Brittany said flatly. “I would never presume to tell Thorn’s first mate what to do.” She smiled. “I would not advise you to, either. Thorn might not take it kindly.”

Wilhelmina tried to hold on to her temper. “I have observed Thorn when he looks at you, and I am puzzled.”

“About what?”

“There is no light of possession there, no warmth. Why do you suppose that is?”

“Perhaps if you spent more time worrying about your own husband and less worrying about mine, you would be far better off.”

Wilhelmina tossed her napkin on the table and stood up. “I have always thought that those who soar the highest, fall the hardest. Watch out that you don’t take a tumble.”

Brittany stared at Thorn’s stepmother, for her words had sounded very like a threat. She looked into eyes so cold that it sent shivers down her back.

“As you will recall, I already fell. But you can be assured that I will step carefully next time, Wilhelmina.” Brittany took a sip of her tea. “Thank you for worrying about my welfare. I am sure Thorn will express his gratitude for your solicitude upon his return.”

Wilhelmina rose to her feet. “You think you have Thorn, but you don’t. You will never understand the needs of a man
like him.” Her eyes narrowed. “God, he must be bored with an innocent like you.”

Brittany was saved from replying when Wilhelmina rushed out of the room.

Brittany’s hand trembled as she raised the teacup to her lips. Never had she been subjected to such ruthless behavior. She neither knew how to react to it nor the reason for it.

She stood up and moved quickly out of the dining room, with the intention of going outside for a breath of fresh air. When Brittany moved past the parlor, she noticed the door was slightly open, and she heard the mumbled voices of Wilhelmina and Dr. Cross.

Brittany stood as if rooted to the spot when she saw them locked in an embrace. She took a quick step toward the front door, hoping she could escape before they discovered her presence.

Suddenly the parlor door was flung open, and Wilhelmina gave Brittany a haughty look.

“Are you in the habit of skulking around corners to listen to others’ conversations?”

“I was just passing by on my way outside.” Brittany turned to the doctor, choosing to ignore Wilhelmina’s rudeness. “How is my husband’s father today, Doctor?”

He cleared his throat and jammed his hands into his pocket. “I fear Mr. Stoddard has had a turn for the worse. He is very weak. I do not expect him to live through the week.”

Brittany saw the look that passed between the doctor and Wilhelmina, and she wondered at the reason for it.

“Thorn should be notified at once. Can we send word to him in Washington?”

Wilhelmina’s expression was hard and spiteful. “The doctor was just telling me that your husband returned during the night.” Laughter rolled off her lips. “Poor little wife, your husband seems to go to great lengths to avoid you, does he not?” she taunted.

Before Brittany could answer, Thorn himself entered the room his eyes going directly to his wife. Brittany wanted to
run into his arms, but she dared not, because there was no sign that she would be welcomed. She was hurt that he had not let her know he had returned, but she would not allow Wilhelmina to see that hurt.

“Thorn, thank God you have returned,” Brittany exclaimed. “The doctor has just told me that your father is worse.”

There was a look of desperation in Thorn’s eyes as he faced the doctor. “Is there nothing you can do to make my father more comfortable? He is in a great deal of pain.”

“I have given him all the medication I dare. I regret to tell you that your father’s situation is desperate. There is nothing more I can do for him.”

Thorn’s expression hardened. “Are you telling me there is no hope?”

“I would be less than compassionate if I allowed you to hope needlessly.”

Brittany wanted to rush to Thorn and give him what small comfort she could. But instead, she stood with her hands clasped together, wishing he would at least acknowledge her presence.

Without another word, Thorn moved out of the room, and Brittany rushed after him. Her heart was breaking for him, and she wanted to be with him at this dark time in his life.

Quietly, she followed him up the stairs. When they came to his father’s bedroom, he opened the door and nodded for her to enter. When she lingered near the door, he motioned for her to join him at his father’s bedside. Slowly she moved forward, dreading the thought of watching Thorn’s father suffer.

The odor of medicine hung heavy in the air. The man on the bed was pale and listless, and she saw nothing about him that looked like Thorn.

Benjamin groaned and tossed his head back and forth, flinging his arms wide, while his eyes glazed in pain.

Thorn caught his father’s wrists and talked to him soothingly. “You will feel better if you don’t fight, Father.”

“Margaret,” Benjamin murmured. “Margaret…the pain…”

Brittany stepped to the water basin and wet a cloth, which she applied to the old man’s head. “Who is Margaret?” she whispered to Thorn.

“My mother.”

She touched Benjamin’s head and found it clammy. She could see that he was in agony, and his condition reminded her of one of the women in the harem who had eaten some tainted food and had almost died from the poisoning.

Always quick to make a decision, she caught Thorn’s arm and motioned him to the corner of the room, noticing that he looked haggard and needed a rest. “Thorn, I know you are going to think I have completely lost my senses, but would you turn your father’s care over to me?”

“It’s useless, Brittany. I can see that the doctor was right. He cannot live, and it would not be fair to make you share his agony.”

“I want to try something. I promise you I will make you father as comfortable as possible and not allow him to suffer unduly. I can do it, Thorn,” she insisted. “I know I can.”

He drew in a deep breath, knowing Brittany could do nothing, because the doctor had said there was no hope. “Yes, try anything you wish, but I fear nothing will help.”

“Leave me now, but send Esmeralda to me. Have the servants bring in a tub of water.” She rolled up her sleeves and moved to the window, giving a tug on the heavy velvet curtains that sent them crashing to the floor in a stream of dust. She then flung the window wide to let fresh air into the room.

Brittany turned back to find Thorn watching her. “Hurry. Send Esmeralda to me.”

“Is that old woman still alive?”

“More alive than most people I know. Hurry, Thorn!” She moved to his father’s side. “Do not allow anyone but Esmeralda into this room.”

An uneasy silence had settled over the house. It was as if everyone were holding their breath, waiting to hear that the
master of Stoddard Hill had died. Servants went about their tasks talking in whispers.

Thorn had been banished from his father’s room by Esmeralda, who claimed he was just in her way. He had not seen either the doctor or his stepmother since he had told them to stay away from his father. When the doctor protested, Thorn had reminded him that he had said he could do nothing more for his father.

Brittany watched Esmeralda mix a powdered substance with water until it became a white paste. “You hold his head while I spoon the theriac down his throat.”

Benjamin meekly took the liquid into his mouth because he was too weak to protest. Brittany felt pity for him as Esmeralda spooned more of the horrid-smelling liquid into his mouth. His skin was as white as the pillow he lay upon, and he looked more dead than alive.

“Now what?” Brittany asked.

“We will wait a bit. He will become ill, and vomit. If there is poison in him, I hope he will get it all up.”

Brittany watched Ben’s face for any reaction, but he lay still and lifeless. Then he began to stir and moan. In a short time, Benjamin became violently ill and begin to retch. Esmeralda held a pan for him while Brittany held a damp cloth to his forehead.

“Leave me alone,” he mumbled. “Let me die in peace, old woman.”

“If I leave you alone, you
will
die, Master Benjamin. We have to get the poison out of your system.”

Brittany met the old woman’s eyes. “I was right then; he ate something that made him ill?”

Esmeralda’s eyes became black slits. “Yes, he ate something that set ill with him. Come, let’s dose him up again. We got to get it all out of him.”

For over two hours, Brittany and Esmeralda worked over Thorn’s father. At last he lay quietly, and it seemed his pain had eased. Brittany had changed the bedding while Esmeralda
dressed him in a clean nightshirt. Now Brittany stood beside him, wiping his face with a cool cloth.

Ben licked his lips and glanced at her. “When I look at you, I think I am in heaven, but when I see Esmeralda, I know it must be hell.” He turned his eyes to the slave. “You and me aren’t going to heaven are we, old woman?”

Crackling laughter came from her lips. “That’s right, Master Ben. You and me’s too ornery to go to the good place, and most likely they won’t have room for us in the other place. I always thought I’d get there first and then have the place made ready for you, but now I ain’t so sure.”

He smiled slightly. “If I’m not in heaven, then who is this beautiful angel?”

“Why, Master Ben, don’t you know your own son’s wife?”

Ben’s eyes widened, and he raised a weak hand. “I always knew that boy had a head on his shoulders.” His eyelids fluttered. “I’m going to sleep now. There’s no more pain.”

Brittany picked up a fan and circulated the air around him so he would sleep more peacefully. “Thank you, Esmeralda. He would have died if not for you,” she whispered.

“Yes, he would have—and he still might. It would be wise if you saw to his food from now on.”

Brittany’s mouth rounded in shock. “Do you mean that you think…that someone…No, that is not possible.”

“I know when someone’s been poisoned, be it by good means, or foul. I’ll say it again—the master needs looking after by those you can trust.”

Brittany nodded. “I see that now.”

“I’m too old for such goings-on. I’m going home. Want me to send Master Thorn up?”

“Yes, please. And, Esmeralda, let’s keep this between ourselves for the time being. If someone means Thorn’s father harm, we can catch them better if they do not know they are suspect.”

The old woman moved agilely to the door. “Please yourself. But make sure he don’t eat nothing you haven’t seen to first.”

Brittany’s eyes softened when they rested on her father-in-law. “I’ll watch him as if he were my own father.”

“If you need me, send someone for me.”

Brittany smiled at the dear old woman who had been a true friend. “I will. But get some rest now.”

Esmeralda padded out of the room, feeling useful for the first time in years. Master Ben had been right, the young mistress was an angel sent from heaven. It was certain she was too good for this house.

Thorn watched Esmeralda make her way toward him. She gave him a wide grin and wrung his hand. “You came back just in time. You should stay where you belong.”

He smiled. “The choice was not mine. I had to go, Esmeralda.”

“Go on up to your pa now.”

“Is he…is he…”

“He’s sleeping peaceful. Iffen God’s willing, he’ll be up and about in a few days.”

“Are you saying that—”

“I’m saying that he’s alive, Master Thorn, and if I’m any judge, he’ll make it. Now, why don’t you go on up and sit with that pretty wife of yours.”

Thorn felt a shock wave of relief. “How is it possible that my father could improve so quickly when the doctor had given up hope?”

“How should I know? Am I a doctor?”

Thorn started toward the stairs, almost afraid to hope. He paused on the landing and looked back to Esmeralda. “You like Brittany, don’t you?”

The old woman chuckled and moved to the door, her homespun gown flapping against her bony legs. “She’s a keeper, Master Thorn—a real keeper. She taught this ole woman that there is still goodness in the world. Iffen you don’t look to her, someone will run off with her.”

Thorn took the steps at a run. When he stood before his father’s door, he felt nervous and unsure.