Lady in the Mist (33 page)

Now he was the fool for considering her request for a moment. But as he looked into her eyes, he heard himself saying, as though his voice belonged to another man, “Can you row?”

“Yes, of course. But we can take the
Marianne
. It’ll be faster and safer.”

“You know how to handle her?”

“Of course,” she repeated.

“But your shoulder.”

“I can handle a single-masted fishing boat.” Her pointed little chin set.

Dominick’s insides melted. Somehow he would stop her from going with him. “I’ll talk to Parks while you change your dress.” He slipped out of the kitchen and rounded the stairway to enter the parlor.

Donald Parks lay on the settee with his feet propped on a chair to accommodate for his height being longer than the furnishings. His eyes were closed, but he opened them at Dominick’s footfalls across the floorboards.

“I don’t know you,” he said.

“No, we haven’t ever met.”

“English.” Parks started up. “You can’t make me go back.”

“No, I can’t.” Dominick laid his hand on the other man’s shoulder and nudged him down. “Officially, I’m a redemptioner belonging to Mayor Kendall. I am also a spy trying to stop a war, and you can help.”

“You’re a what?” Parks looked as though Dominick had struck him across the face. “Mister . . . um . . .”

“Officially, it’s Lord Dominick.” He smiled. “But you can call me Cherrett, if you don’t have other choice names for an Englishman.”

Parks smiled through cracked lips. “What do you need to know?”

Dominick told him, and Parks answered to the best of his knowledge. By the time Tabitha raced downstairs in canvas boots and a woolen cloak over her gown, her hair tied up in a knitted cap, Dominick had all the information he could glean from the American.

“You need to think about what you’re doing, Dominick,” she said. “The sun is beginning to set.”

“If I have the answers to the disappearances, everything will be all right.”

He hoped.

He glanced at Parks. “Shall we send someone to notify your family of your return?”

“Please.” Parks raised himself on one elbow. “I don’t think I look as bad as I did earlier, do I?”

“They’re not going to care.” Tabitha touched his brow as though he were a child with a fever. “I’ll send Japheth before we leave.”

“She shouldn’t go with you,” Parks said.

“I know. But if I don’t take her, she’ll go on her own.” A twinge of envy twisted inside him. “She needs to save Trower.”

“I need—” She broke off and headed for the door, calling for Japheth.

Dominick followed. In moments, they were heading out across the beach toward the jetty and Raleigh Trower’s boat. Dominick thought of reasons why she shouldn’t go, from her injured shoulder to the risk of confronting a man with armed marines and hundreds of sailors at his command. Dominick’s rank should help save him, but if things went badly, not even he could protect Tabitha.

He stopped her at the jetty. “You can’t go.”

“You can’t stop me.” She caressed his cheek. “I have to do this for—for Raleigh.”

“Yes, Raleigh.” He gritted his teeth.

He was willing to get her former fiancé back for her, if he still lived, but he wasn’t willing for her to go after him. But she was right. He couldn’t stop her. If he took the
Marianne
, she would find another boat. She was safer beside him than alone.

He hoped.

“All right, but do everything I say.” He grasped the painter and drew the little craft closer to the jetty. “Climb aboard.”

She obeyed and leaped aft to loose the sheets. Her face glowed in the slanting sunlight. Sunlight that spelled trouble for him if he failed to return before it faded. Sunlight emphasizing her beauty. His heart bounded toward her before he loosed the painter and jumped aboard.

“Hurry,” she called.

He hurried. He hadn’t been aboard a sailing boat since the brief peace of 1802, when Englishmen felt secure sailing the channel for pleasure. But he had enjoyed that year of freedom before he left Dorset for Oxford and had spent every minute he could on the water.

He raced to hoist the sail while Tabitha took the tiller. Slowly, agonizingly, the craft turned on the ebbing tide and light breeze and headed out to sea.

“Wind,” Tabitha cried from the wheel. “We need more wind.”

“We’re not going all that far, though it may take a bit to find the frigate, if she hasn’t upped anchor. In which case we won’t find her at all in the dark.”

“We have to try. But Dominick—”

A shout sounded from shore. She glanced back, then leaned over the wheel as though she could make the fishing boat move faster, a groan escaping her lips.

“What is it?” Dominick shoved the belaying pin into the rail and ran back to her. “Is it your wound?”

“No, it’s Harlan Wilkins. He saw us.”

35

______

The
Nemesis
rode at anchor miles down the coast from where Donald Parks had gone over the side. By the time they found the frigate, full dark had fallen, and Tabitha could barely stand upright.

“We were right.” She feared the weakness of her voice reflected her pain and fatigue. “They must have been searching for him, figuring the tide currents would bring him this way.”

“I didn’t think the captain would risk Parks getting away.” He rested his hand on her shoulder. “Or Raleigh.”

“Yes, Raleigh.” Tabitha sagged against the taffrail. “How do we approach them without getting fired upon?”

“I’ll hail them, if you can take the wheel.”

“Of course.” The now often-spoken words had lost some of their conviction.

Dominick stepped away from the tiller but remained at her side, peering down at her through the starlight. “I shouldn’t have let you come. You’re about to faint on me.”

“I’m not such a weak creature.” She smiled at him. “But maybe the captain is gentleman enough to offer me a chair, if he lets us aboard.”

“Tabitha—”

“Who’s there?” a voice cried from the prow of the frigate.

Dominick cupped his hands around his mouth. “Lord Dominick Cherrett.” He dropped one hand to the wheel. “Hold her steady. I’ll lower the sail.” He dashed forward.

Lights flared along the rail of the
Nemesis
. Faces shone in the yellow glare.

“Did you say Lord Dominick Cherrett?” a marine called.

“I did.” Dominick sounded calm, confident, every bit the aristocrat he was. “Toss us a line and lower a bosun’s chair. I have a lady with me.”

“A lady?” the marine repeated.

A quiet chorus of laughter rippled over the water.

“What’s a Cherrett doing out here?” The marine now sounded suspicious, and no rope was forthcoming yet.

“That, sirrah,” Dominick responded, “is your captain’s concern, not yours.”

“Is that so?” The marine leaned over the rail and spat. “Well, the captain won’t be concerned if we don’t let you aboard just because you’re claiming you’re a lord. Mebbe you’re one of those tricky Yankees come to cause us more trouble.”

“And perhaps my uncle, Vice Admiral Landry, will be interested in your insolence,” Dominick returned.

The marine straightened. Shadows moved around the lights, and murmurs drifted through the night.

“A bit of a conference,” Dominick said to Tabitha. “They aren’t quite certain I’m telling the truth, but now they’re wondering if they should risk letting me aboard in the event I am.”

“You shouldn’t have called me a lady.” Tabitha tugged at her worn gown. “They’ll be expecting elegance.”

“What they’re expecting is what I tell them to expect.”

Tabitha stared at him. Confidence, determination, even occasional haughtiness she’d seen in him. Outright arrogance, as he demonstrated now, was entirely new and disconcerting.

“Should I behave a certain way?” she asked.

“Be your wonderful self.” Grasping a stay, Dominick stepped onto the gunwale and called out, “Throw us a line now, or I’ll tell my uncle how uncooperative you all were.”

“We have to notify the captain before we can let you aboard,” the marine informed them. “But we’re dropping a line to you now. Can you catch it?”

“I’ll give it a good try,” Dominick muttered.

As he spoke, a rope sailed across the lantern light, straight at Dominick’s head. He ducked. The rope struck the deck of the
Marianne
with a resounding thud, and Dominick dove after it.

“Come help me, Tabitha?” he asked, keeping his voice quiet. “We need to moor against them, or we’ll drift too far leeward and not be able to return.”

“Which might not be a terrible event.” Tabitha moved to the deck to join Dominick in hauling the fishing boat closer to the frigate’s side. Although several sailors lined the rail of the ship towering over the
Marianne
, none of them offered to assist. Tabitha used only one hand, so the going proved slow. By the time their bow bumped the hull of the
Nemesis
, men in officers’ uniforms had shooed the sailors from the rail.

“I’m Avery, the first lieutenant,” one man announced. “You are Lord Dominick Cherrett requesting permission to come aboard with a . . . er . . . companion?”

“I am.” Dominick finished securing the line. “And don’t ask me to explain why I’m here. I’ll tell only the captain.”

“But of course.” Avery spoke to the men around them, then turned back. “We’re lowering a bosun’s chair.”

The canvas sling landed on the fishing boat’s deck. Dominick settled Tabitha into it, brushed her cheek with his thumb, then grabbed for the mooring line and began to climb. Tabitha wanted to watch, to admire his strength and agility, but the tug on the rope of her makeshift chair sent her spinning around and up. Lanterns flashed one second, starlight the next. Nausea struck. She closed her eyes. When the motion of the chair stopped, her head kept spinning.

“You look a bit green, my dear.” Dominick’s hands steadied her. “Didn’t you enjoy the ride?”

“Next time I climb.” She resisted the urge to collapse against him.

Dominick chuckled, held her for a moment until she nodded that she was steady on her feet, then tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Take us to the captain, Mr. Avery.”

“Aye, sir . . . er . . . my lord.” Avery raised his hand. For a moment, Tabitha thought he would salute. But he dropped it to his side and headed aft.

Dominick led her after the lieutenant. Men fell into step behind them, lining the deck on either side of them. On the far side of the men, guns hulked against the rails. She counted thirty-six. Thirty-six guns that could destroy an American vessel in minutes, that had damaged American shipping. War would bring disaster to the country.

The knowledge that she and Dominick were doing what they could to prevent it kept her feet moving, her head high. She knew the men stared, wondering what sort of female she might be, speculating she was the type to be out at night with a man. If they failed in their mission, everyone would believe Wilkins in the end and her reputation would be irredeemable.

If they failed in their mission, Dominick would suffer even more.

Lord, please be with us
, she found herself praying.
Please don’t abandon us now.

They walked toward a man in a smart blue coat with gold epaulets and white breeches. He stood at the head of a ladder, his hand on the hilt of a sword, with two marines flanking him behind, their hands on their muskets. God and two of His archangels? On a British man-of-war, she knew she wasn’t far off. She and Dominick were in his power now that they stood on his deck.

She kept her smile in place as they reached the captain. The captain didn’t smile back. He frowned at Dominick. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“You know who I am,” Dominick returned. “Who are you?”

The marine beside Dominick punched him in the back. “You be respectful when you address Captain Roscoe.”

Dominick said nothing. He stared at Roscoe, who stared back. Tabitha held her breath, wondering who would blink first. Around them, the ship and crew seemed to hold their breath too. Even the wind seemed to have ceased whispering through the rigging. Not a spar or timber creaked. Only the sea hissed, a snake coiled around the hull.

Tabitha’s heart began to pound hard enough to make her throat hurt.

Then Roscoe relaxed. His shoulders remained straight, but his face lost its rigidity and he smiled. “I do believe you speak the truth. Now, how may I help you?”

“We’ve come to inquire about a local man named Raleigh Trower.” Dominick glanced around, as though expecting Raleigh to step from the shadows between the great guns. “He was once in the British Navy, and we thought perhaps he . . . rejoined the service.”

“Indeed.” Roscoe sighed. “Then I regret to tell you, you have come on a fruitless journey. No one has joined our service for months. We are not on British soil, after all.”

“How odd.” Dominick glanced at Tabitha. “Didn’t Donald Parks say it was the
Nemesis
where he left Raleigh?”

Tabitha swallowed against a dry throat but still couldn’t speak. She kept her gaze on Roscoe, watched him pale beneath his sun-darkened skin. If he chose, he could forget Dominick’s class rank and do away with both of them. Donald was, of course, their insurance of safety. She must cling to that.

She wanted something more substantial than a man so exhausted he couldn’t stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time. She clung to Dominick’s arm, but suddenly he wasn’t there. Without so much as another glance in her direction or a word to anyone, he slipped into the shadows and vanished.

Tabitha clutched air for a moment, then clasped her arms over her middle.

Shouts arose from the men. The captain bellowed an order and marines sprang into action, charging in the direction Dominick had vanished. No one so much as looked at Tabitha. She stood in the middle of a sea of men with ocean around them, and knew her vulnerability, her weakness.

“Lord, I have only You,” she whispered. “I’ve neglected You and blamed You and don’t deserve anything from You, but You made promises. Please keep them, if I’m not too much of a sinner.”

Oh, but she was. She was angry and bitter and unforgiving. She trusted no one.

You need to trust God so you can trust others
, the pastor had said.

“I don’t know how to trust You, God,” she nearly whimpered. “But I will try, if You can forgive me enough to help.”

A running seaman bumped into her. She lost her balance and fell. He kept going, intent on a disturbance somewhere else on the ship.

Tabitha stared at the deck, bright in the many lanterns’ glow. Bright except for the dark splotches leading from the larboard rail to somewhere on the starboard side, the direction Dominick had taken like a trail of bread crumbs. Except this was a trail of blood droplets.

Donald had heard a shot.

On her hands and knees, Tabitha darted along the trail, dodging seamen and skirting ropes, keeping the marks in her sight.

They disappeared in the darkness of a hatchway. Tabitha scrambled down the ladder. Not enough light remained to guide her if more blood splotches led the way, but a glow further down the passageway and raised voices guided her forward. Guided her into a cabin with canvas walls, a hanging cot surrounded by naval officers, marines, and Dominick, and another man lying in the midst.

“Raleigh,” Tabitha cried out and shoved her way to his side. “You’re injured.” She dropped to her knees beside the cot and glared up at the men. “Where’s your surgeon?”

“Here, ma’am.” A stooped gentleman with flowing white hair stepped forward. “You’d best go now. This is no sight for a lady.”

“I’m a healer, a midwife.” She took Raleigh’s hand in hers. It was cold, the nails turning blue. A glance at his face showed blue lips with a trace of bubbling blood at the corners. She didn’t need her medical knowledge or a surgeon to tell her that her lifelong friend was dying.

She stared up at the officers and Dominick through tear-misted eyes. “How did this happen?”

“He was shot in the back,” Dominick said in a voice cold enough to turn June into January.

“He was eluding punishment,” the captain interjected, “aiding and abetting the escape of a crewman, and attempting to escape himself. It’s just—”

“Nothing of what you do is just.” Dominick turned on the man and grabbed his lapels. “You are aiding and abetting the abduction of American seamen, and only your cooperation will save you from—”

“Dominick, careful,” Tabitha cried.

Two marines grabbed Dominick and flung him away from the captain.

He struck the bulkhead, grunted, then shot upright again. “Anyone who lays a hand on me will answer to Vice Admiral Landry. Do you understand?”

The cabin settled into a tableau of frozen faces and silence. Above, feet pounded and men called. Raleigh’s breath rattled in his throat, and brighter red blood trickled from his mouth.

Tabitha dropped her head onto his chest, heard the death rattle emphasized, and didn’t attempt to stifle her sob.

“As far as I’m concerned, Captain Roscoe,” Dominick enunciated in that deadly chill of a voice, “you have murdered this lady’s fiancé.”

“He is not an American.” Roscoe sounded defensive, tense. “My lord, I swear to you—”

“Never mind what he says, Captain,” another man called from the passageway. “He’s not a lord. He’s a runaway redemptioner.”

Tabitha choked on a sob. Her head shot up in time to see Harlan Wilkins stroll to the doorway of the cabin. “Don’t think you can get away with this, Cherrett. Kendall knows and has given me permission to take you ashore for punishment.”

“No.” Tabitha tried to rise. “You can’t—”

Dominick gave his head a barely perceptible shake and raised a finger to his lips.

Roscoe glared at him. “Did you lie to me, man?”

“No.” Dominick smiled. “And neither did—what’s your friend’s name?”

“Wilk—how am I supposed to know the name of a Yankee?” Roscoe snapped.

“A thought.” Dominick stepped toward Wilkins. “I suppose you have reinforcements, so trying to escape is pointless, unless Roscoe thinks it’s better to protect the son of a peer of the realm than help him save his own neck.”

“A disgraced son.” Wilkins snorted. “Or did you think none of us knows?” He turned to Roscoe. “He can’t do anything to harm you, Captain Roscoe. He can’t deny that he’s a redemptioner, and after his master is done with him for attempting to run away, you’ll be long gone from these shores.”

With Tabitha aboard.

She bit her lip and hunched beside the cot. She could choose between helping to ease Raleigh’s last minutes or hours on earth, ensuring he reached the shore of the land he considered home rather than being dumped into the sea, or stay with Dominick and prevent him from receiving another flogging he did not deserve. She couldn’t leave her old friend alone. She couldn’t see Dominick hurt again, scarred worse than he already was.

She couldn’t bear the idea of Wilkins getting away with his crime.