Love's Rescue (17 page)

Tom, dressed the same as he had been on the voyage to Key West, looked to the sky. “Rain’s coming, I fear.”

His eyes darted toward Caroline, and Elizabeth realized she’d forgotten to make introductions. After that was done to everyone’s satisfaction, she asked if he was looking for her.

“Indeed I was, miss. I paid a call at your house and spoke to your aunt. She said you had walked into town to look at gloves.” Most men Tom’s age would wrinkle their noses at the mention of shopping for any part of a woman’s wardrobe. Tom managed to say it without edging away. He dug into his jacket pocket. “I have a letter for you, Miss Benjamin.” He handed her a square of folded paper sealed with wax.

“For me?” She did not recognize the hand. “Who is it from?”

“An admirer.” Tom looked toward the harbor. “I need to be on my way. Mr. John will have my head if I’m late.”

“Thank you,” she called out as Tom hurried away into the crowd.

“He works on the
Windsprite
?” Caroline asked after he was gone.

“Yes.”

“Curious. The rumor I heard was about that ship. Apparently they’re about to set sail for Harbour Island.”

The news knifed through Elizabeth. “Are you certain?”

“Perhaps that letter will tell you more.”

Elizabeth ripped open the seal and unfolded the single sheet of paper. The first two lines confirmed what Caroline had heard. “He is . . .” She choked out a shaky breath. “He is returning home.” Her hand trembled at the next. “They might be gone a long time, as much as a year.” Tears stung her eyes. He was leaving her the way she’d left him—fit punishment for her sins.

“Is that all? No explanation?”

Elizabeth shook her head and tried to blink away the tears enough to read the final words.

I was a coward that night, dearest Elizabeth. I should have admitted my feelings. Please forgive me. You are always in my thoughts. Though your kind regard is undeserved, I dare to hope you will wait.

Your ever faithful servant,
Rourke

Those were not the words of a man who despised her. Quite the contrary. Hope returned with such a surge that she threw her arms around Caroline. “He loves me. I knew it. He loves me.”

“Yet he is leaving?” Caroline asked after Elizabeth had composed herself.

“There must be difficulty at home. It’s the only explanation.”

Caroline looked unconvinced.

“What?” Elizabeth prodded. “You don’t think that’s possible?”

“It’s possible,” Caroline said slowly, “though hardly something to keep secret.”

“Rourke is a private man. He wouldn’t share his difficulties with anyone.”

Though Caroline still looked doubtful, she acquiesced. “Then you will wait, even if it’s a year?”

Though Elizabeth nodded, she knew how difficult that would be. “I will convince Father. Somehow.”

When Elizabeth returned home, Aunt Virginia informed her that Mr. Finch would join them for supper. In one statement,
she deflated Elizabeth’s excitement and pinpointed the problem that awaited her. How could she possibly push away Mr. Finch for an entire year?

“I will dine in my room,” she stated.

“You most certainly will not,” Aunt said. “The lady of the house must serve as a gracious hostess even when plagued by headache or fatigue. Your mother always did.”

The mention of Mother shamed Elizabeth. Mother would not dwell upon disappointment. She would not run headlong through the streets, as Elizabeth had longed to do when first reading Rourke’s letter. She would accept life’s blows and move forward with grace.

That meant suffering through Percival Finch with his canary-yellow waistcoats, cloying compliments, and clinging fingers.

Aunt Virginia clucked her tongue. “Where did you and Miss Brown go? Your skirts are caked with dirt. Why, they’re as filthy as your maid’s. I’m beginning to think she is going all over town when she is supposed to be here. Yesterday she showed up at cockcrow with her eyes heavy and her skirts damp. Nathan insists he didn’t see her all night. Cook and Florie claim they were asleep. No one seems to know where that girl of yours spent the night. Unless she stayed in your room. You know that’s unwise. I told you over and over how quickly a darkie will turn on you.”

Elizabeth’s heart sank. She had spoken to Anabelle about the late-night forays and asked her not to leave again after curfew. Why would she continue to do so? Now Aunt had begun to suspect. “I will speak to her.”

“You must discipline her.”

Though the thought made her ill, Elizabeth nodded.

Seemingly satisfied, Aunt Virginia returned to the business
at hand. “We haven’t much time before supper. You certainly can’t wear that gown. No amount of beating will get the dust from it.”

She headed for the staircase. “I’ll have Anabelle dress me in the crape.”

“You will do no such thing. That was my big surprise, which apparently you and Miss Brown completely forgot.” Aunt pouted. “I can never be your mother, but I’m trying to do my best by you.”

Elizabeth’s heart softened. Aunt had truly looked forward to revealing her big surprise. After all the excitement surrounding Rourke, Elizabeth had completely forgotten about her aunt. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s quite all right to forget your poor old great-aunt.” Aunt dabbed at her misty eyes. “Never mind that I took the liberty of finding a gown for you the moment I learned of the ball. It wasn’t easy, mind you. The seamstresses here are dreadful, and there was almost no time to have something made, but Providence smiled on me, dear Elizabeth. Mrs. Evanston happened to have the perfect gown on hand. Apparently the girl who ordered it changed her mind. Though she’s a bit shorter than you, Mrs. Evanston assured me she could make the alterations.”

Elizabeth blinked. “I have not agreed to attend.”

“Of course you will attend. Moreover, Mrs. Evanston was kind enough to await your return. Run along upstairs now. We will have the fitting in the reading room.”

“You kept her here until my return?”

“Naturally.” Aunt Virginia’s note of triumph rang through the house. “She was only too happy to wait for the daughter of Key West’s most prominent attorney.”

Elizabeth was too tired to argue. She obediently followed
Aunt upstairs. The reading room had been transformed into a fitting room with sheer drapes covering the windows. A woman of perhaps forty years of age stood beside a dressmaker’s form bearing a stunning steel-blue silk gown.

“It’s blue,” Elizabeth cried. “I can’t wear blue.”

“It’s gray,” Aunt Virginia countered. “Isn’t it, Mrs. Evanston?”

The woman, clearly already under Aunt Virginia’s control, nodded agreeably. “It will look especially fine on someone of your stature and complexion. We will refashion the existing skirt by adding a flounced underskirt of this lovely matching silk.”

The shimmering creation was a ball gown fit for the finest dance in Charleston. In no way did it reflect that Elizabeth was in mourning.

“It’s not appropriate,” she whispered to her aunt.

“Nonsense.”

“It has red rosettes on the skirt and bodice.”

Aunt waved away Elizabeth’s concern. “A tiny splash of color.”

“I’m in mourning.”

“Your father informed me that such customs are not observed here. In fact, he insisted you have something a little less harsh for the ball.” She pinched Elizabeth’s cheek as if she were a young girl. “You need to get the color back in your cheeks.”

“But Mother died less than three months ago.”

Mrs. Evanston looked sympathetic, but she was fully in her patron’s employ. This was clearly an attempt to pretty up Elizabeth for courtship, but neither her aunt nor Mrs. Evanston could know that they’d selected the exact shade she’d worn the day she’d hoped to win over Rourke O’Malley. The day of the hurricane. The day her brother lost the use of his legs.

She closed her eyes against the sudden rush of pain.

Four years ago, chasing after Rourke had wrought disaster. She had proceeded to Charleston as planned rather than fight to stay. This time he was leaving. Miles upon miles of turquoise sea would lie between them. Gone for as long as a year, he’d written. Gone at the very time she needed someone to stand by her side.

Now she stood alone, unable to hear the music, while the world danced around her.

M
r. Finch proved as insufferable as Elizabeth had expected. His eyes gleamed when she entered the foyer, even though she was covered from head to toe in black crape thanks to the alterations required on the ball gown.

“How lovely you are, Miss Elizabeth.” He bowed, revealing a bottle-green waistcoat beneath his unbuttoned tailcoat.

Overdressed yet again. The very sight of him disgusted her. His touch made her skin crawl. She extended a limp hand and allowed him to lead her into the dining room.

During supper, she nodded and murmured unintelligible responses to his comments without hearing a thing he was saying. Mr. Finch could not compare to Rourke any more than a vulture could pretend to be a magnificent frigate bird. The latter soared high on the breezes, dipping to earth to snatch up a fish or to mate. When would Rourke alight again? Soon, she hoped. A year was far too long to wait when she now knew he loved her.

Despite Caroline’s misgivings, the only explanation for such a long and indefinite absence was a family crisis. If his mother
was ill, he might not return for a very long time. All of his seven siblings were younger than him. Some must still be at home. With his father gone, he would have to take on responsibility for the family. Just like her.

She glanced at her brother, who shot back an accusatory glare, as if she were to blame for Mr. Finch’s presence. Did Rourke’s brothers and sisters give him the same fits Charlie gave her? Yet Rourke got along famously with her brother. And Father did not object to those visits. Apparently his disapproval of Rourke extended only to her.

Mr. Finch looked at her as if he’d asked a question.

She nodded and smiled again.

Charlie scowled.

Father grinned and clapped his hands. “Good. It’s settled then. Shall we say seven o’clock? We will want to arrive early with such an announcement to make.”

“Announcement?” Elizabeth asked, but neither of them appeared to hear her.

“Excellent.” Father’s pleasure rumbled forth with the addition of a raised wineglass. “I have looked forward to this day for years. We will take my carriage.”

The air squeezed out of her lungs. “The carriage?” What had she just agreed to?

Mr. Finch gave her a doting smile. “You wouldn’t want your lovely gown to get dusty, would you? The hall is a goodly distance from here.”

“The hall.” Elizabeth quickly pieced together that she had just agreed to attend the Harvest Ball with Mr. Finch.

“Dearest Elizabeth.” Finch laughed. “Where else would a ball take place but at the hall? There isn’t another room large enough.”

“Nor is there a better place to announce your engagement,” Father added.

Engagement? Panic rose like a storm tide. When had she agreed to an engagement? One of those polite nods must have been mistaken for agreement. “You misunderstand.”

“Not to fret, my dear.” Finch smiled. “We all make mistakes from time to time.”

“Mistake. Yes, that’s it. This is all a big mistake.” The blood pounded in her ears. What had she done to make him think she would ever approve his suit? Had she not refused him outright twice already? “I can’t. I won’t.” She pushed back from the table.

“Elizabeth.” Father’s gray eyes pinned her in place. “This is what we agreed upon.”

No, it wasn’t. This was what Father and Mr. Finch agreed upon. Not her. She could not abandon Rourke for a pale substitute, even if she must wait a year.

“No,” she croaked.

The men ignored her words. The air thickened. She could not breathe, could not think, could not hear. Her hands shook. She had to leave. Now.

She rose.

“Are you all right, dearest?” Mr. Finch hopped to his feet and took her arm.

His hovering presence and heavy perfume only made her feel worse.

“I-I can’t.” She pulled her arm from his grasp and ran from the room. How, she did not know. She could not feel her limbs. Her ears buzzed. The furniture blurred as if underwater. She grabbed the staircase railing. Her room. She must get to the safety of her room.

“Elizabeth?” Finch’s voice shot through her like a bolt of lightning. “Dearest?”

“No,” she gasped, struggling to gather her wits. “No. I’m not. I can’t.”

“Take her to the parlor,” Father instructed, his disdain at her feminine weakness evident.

Finch reached for her.

She pulled away. If only she could climb the stairs, but she could not summon the strength to lift a foot.

“Come with me,” Finch demanded, this time tugging on her arm.

His grasping recalled the last time, when he had gripped her arms so tightly that they’d bruised. If she hadn’t insisted upon strict Christian morals, he would have forced a kiss upon her. His lips had been so close that she’d reeled from his fetid breath. She could not do this. She could not. The eddy was swallowing her. Soon she would be lost, and she hadn’t the strength to fight. Her lips formed words, but nothing came out.

Then she felt a tug on her skirt.

“I want to talk to my sister,” Charlie said. “She’s coming with me.”

To her shock, Finch stepped away. Father acquiesced. Aunt Virginia stayed silent. In that moment, Elizabeth saw who ruled the house. Her brother, who had seemed so weak, was in truth the strongest of them all.

“Wheel me to my room, Lizzie.”

Elizabeth gratefully obeyed.

After sailing east-northeast until well past sundown, Rourke doubled back and nestled the
Windsprite
into a quiet mangrove
cut within rowing distance of Key West. The waxing half moon offered enough light for Worthington to find the vessel, yet as the hours passed without one sign of the lad, Rourke regretted sending the least experienced of his crew on such an important mission. He should have been here by now.

Rourke paced the deck. At every about-face, he pulled out the spyglass and scanned the moonlit channel entrance.

“He come,” John said. “He see de mast.”

That was true. No nearby cove could completely hide a vessel the size of the
Windsprite
. Rourke had expected John to be the only crew member to make the crossing with him, yet all had remained. Good men. Loyal men. Men who deserved to know the full truth. If Worthington returned.

“He should have been here by now. If Benjamin catches him prowling about, there’s no telling what he’ll do.”

“Tom not tell secrets.”

Rourke wished he could believe that. Charles Benjamin had a way of forcing information out of a grown man, not to mention someone Tom’s age. Whether by threat or enticements, Benjamin could pry open the deepest recesses of a man’s heart.

“God will be with him,” Rourke said, mostly to convince himself. “He has to be.”

Surely God would aid a man acting in righteousness. The Bible was filled with examples. He had directed Gideon into battle against the Midianites. He had protected David from King Saul’s jealous wrath. Rourke’s small act would not change a nation, but it would save two precious souls. He hoped that would be enough to attract God’s protection.

The moon sat atop the mangroves now. Not a breath of breeze rustled the leaves. Soon the moon would slip behind the
trees, casting their cove in darkness. Rourke took one last look at the channel mouth.

Nothing.

No boat. No splash of oars. No croak of an egret, their agreed-upon signal.

Rourke collapsed the spyglass and stuck it in his coat pocket. “God be with you, Tom Worthington.”

As if in response, the splash of oars sounded across the still waters.

Rourke motioned for John to stand still. He held his breath, every muscle taut.

There it was again. Splash. Splash. Splash. The regular rhythm could only belong to a strong and experienced rower.

He listened for the egret call but heard only silence. Even the splashing had stopped.

Was it Worthington or had the young crewman been intercepted? If the latter, the
Windsprite
was trapped. The cut had only one way out. Rourke should have known better than to choose a cut over a channel, but he’d thought the unconventional choice would throw off the curious or the vengeful.

He might have thought wrong. Rourke instinctively reached for his cutlass. It would do him no good against firepower, but he might stand a chance in hand-to-hand combat.

The whites of John’s eyes vanished when Rourke shuttered the lantern. His chief mate crouched behind the deckhouse, also with cutlass in hand.

Rourke did not move a muscle. Every sense was trained on the entrance to the channel, where the splashing sound drew closer.

Soon they would know if they’d been betrayed. Rourke tightened his grip and lifted the blade.

Kaw-roak.

The deep croak of the great egret sounded across the water.

Worthington. Rourke relaxed. John, however, stayed crouched behind the deckhouse. This could still prove a trap. Rourke raised the cutlass again.

By now, the mangroves cast the
Windsprite
in complete darkness. The moonlight spread a silver veil across the sea outside the channel entrance. A foe would cling to the shadows. Worthington would push into the light to announce his presence. Unless he’d been followed.

Again came the call of the egret. Rourke echoed it this time. The splashing increased in frequency, and soon a dinghy bearing a single man popped into the light outside the channel mouth.

Tom. Rourke set down his cutlass and hurried to the ship’s side to help the lad aboard. As the boat drew near, he whistled and drew an answering whistle.

“Hey-ho,” Worthington called out. “One to board.”

Even John dropped his cutlass.

“You weren’t seen or followed?” Rourke asked as he opened the shutter on the lantern.

“Nay, Captain.” Worthington scurried up the rope ladder. “No one saw me leave town or the island.”

“De message?” John asked eagerly. “She get it?”

Even in the dim light of the lantern, Rourke could see Tom’s shoulders droop.

“I couldn’t get to her. I waited, like you said, until the servants retired to quarters, but Anabelle never went near the gate. I waited until the last light went out in the house and the servants’ quarters got quiet. That’s why I was late. It took a long time for their guest to leave.”

“Guest?” Rourke asked.

“Red-faced man with a pointed nose and a green waistcoat. He didn’t leave Miss Elizabeth’s side.”

Finch. Charles Benjamin had wasted no time setting the man on Elizabeth. “Did she respond to his attentions?”

Tom shrugged. “She looked at her plate mostly, though she didn’t eat much. She left the table first, and they all went somewhere I couldn’t see.”

That did not bode well.

“But she didn’t join him on the porch when he left,” Tom added.

Rourke clung to that shred of hope, foolish though it was. How could he expect Elizabeth to fend off a full year of pressure from her father and Finch? “Were you able to get the letter to her?”

Worthington brightened. “Aye, Captain. Saw her in town with her friend Miss Brown earlier in the day and gave it to her then.”

Rourke breathed in with relief. Maybe there was hope after all. “Did she open it?”

“I didn’t stay. I figured she wouldn’t read it until she was alone.”

“You’re probably right.” He wished he could have known if his few words had given her hope.

“How we reach Anabelle?” John’s voice trembled.

Rourke chastised himself for dwelling on Elizabeth when greater troubles lay ahead. “Anabelle is shrewd. She knows where to go. She’ll be there as planned. We have to believe that.”

John’s worried expression eased slightly.

Not Tom’s. “There might be a problem with that. The back gate is locked, and I thought I saw a man lurking in the alley behind the house.”

“A man?” Rourke did not like the sound of that. “Did you recognize him?”

“Not in the dark. He wasn’t very big, though. I could have taken him down, but he took off before I got close. Since you wanted me to talk to Anabelle, I figured I’d better not chase after him.”

“A small man shouldn’t be a problem,” Rourke mused.

“No, Captain, but that fence is. If the back gate’s locked, I’d guess the one between the backyard and front is too. That fence is tall. No one is going to climb over it, especially a woman.”