Love's Rescue (23 page)

She shoved the Bible away and it crashed to the floor. Mother’s Bible! Horrified, she flew off the bed and found it lying askew on the floor, pages torn from the binding.

“No, no,” she sobbed as she attempted to replace the pages. Did everything she touched fall to pieces?

Paul’s epistle to the Galatians had been torn completely loose at the third chapter. As she pressed it back in place, her eye was drawn to the words directly above her fingers.

There is neither bond nor free, there is neither male
nor female, for ye are all one in Christ Jesus.

The words knifed deep into her heart. Bond. Slave. She had seen Anabelle as lesser, but the apostle Paul clearly stated that
they were equals. That was what Mother had meant. That was why she had insisted on raising them side by side, why she made Father promise to do so. In spite of the terrible betrayal she must have felt, in the depth of despair she extended grace.

Elizabeth sobbed, ashamed.

Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me.

She pressed her forehead to the mattress and wept.

This time the tears cleansed, and by the time dawn graced the horizon with its glorious oranges and pinks, she knew what she must do.

Rourke dropped a blanket and cutlass into the ship’s boat. The weapon was for Tom. Rourke would go unarmed.

John gripped his shoulder. “I go.”

“I know you want to do this, old friend, but a white man stands a better chance bringing your wife through town.”

Rourke’s argument had a sliver of truth at the core, but his real reason centered on something far less noble than ensuring Anabelle’s safety. He must settle things with Elizabeth. Since their last meeting, he had gone over her plea hundreds of times. She had come to him from desperation, and he had turned her away with a shallow promise and a cry for duty. He wasn’t fool enough to think she would be able to outwit her father for an entire year. Charles Benjamin would use every manipulation available to bend her to his will.

Tonight Rourke must face the man, armed only with the truth and reliance on God.

He clapped John on the shoulder. “You are in command. Once Anabelle is aboard, leave.”

“I wait for my captain.”

“No. Leave at once. Set sail for Andros Island. Get your wife to freedom first before going home to Briland.”

“No, sir. Dis not good.”

“It is good, and it’s right.” Rourke pulled a paper from his coat. “If I do not return, this gives you ownership of the
Windsprite.
” As much as it hurt to give up the sloop that had seen him through good times and bad, he would not see it fall into Benjamin’s hands. “The wording might be simple, but any court should accept it.”

John looked with wonder at the paper. “Why you do dis?”

“Because you’re my friend.”

For a second, John’s shoulders trembled before he cleared his throat and lifted his head. “No one ever do such thing fo’ ole John.”

Rourke cleared his throat to cover the welling emotions. “It’s about time, then.” Before he lost control, he swung his legs over the bulwark and descended the ladder to the ship’s boat.

From below, his sloop loomed tall, her sleek hull faster than any other wrecker out of Key West. He ran his hand along the smooth Madeira planking. He had grown up on the
Windsprite
. His father had bought her as a derelict and rebuilt her from the keel up. Every plank had been crafted with love. Until now, giving her away would have felt like betraying his pa, but at that moment he knew that his father would approve. Pa, who had rescued John from a cruel master, was doubtless smiling down on him today.

Rourke gazed into the endless blue sky. If tonight went wrong, this might be his last glimpse of the sun.

Father leaned back in his desk chair, apparently no longer concerned that Elizabeth had interrupted his reading. A smile slowly curved his lips. “I’m glad you came to your senses.”

Elizabeth clung to the back of the nearest throne chair for support. This had taken every ounce of courage she could muster. “After a great deal of prayer.”

“Whatever brought you to this conclusion, I am glad for it.” He approached her, arms outstretched.

Elizabeth saw Anabelle in her father’s every feature. Why hadn’t she noticed before? Because she hadn’t wanted to see the truth. She hadn’t wanted to believe her father capable of such a thing. She could not believe he had loved Mammy, yet the alternative was far more horrific.

Neither his embrace nor his words comforted her. “You will be a happy woman.”

“If happiness is measured by pleasing others.”

“I am pleased.” He patted her back and returned to the desk. Pulling open the top drawer, he withdrew a small object. “I had intended to give you this after the announcement of your engagement, but I believe now is an appropriate time.”

“B-but—” Elizabeth sputtered. She had not yet stated her terms, and he had already leapt to the conclusion he desired.

He didn’t seem to notice her consternation, instead extending his hand with a smile. “Here, my dear. A token of my delight.”

Since she did not move to take his offering, he opened his hand to reveal the brooch that she had found aboard the
Victory
.

“But that belongs to Mr. Buetsch.” She stared at him. “I asked you to return it.”

“Mr. Buetsch no longer owns it. When I saw that it bore your mother’s first initial, I asked if he would sell it to me. He assured me he had no sentimental attachment to it. He bought it from a Saint Augustine curio shop. He gave me a good price, and I purchased it.” He pressed the brooch into her hand. “Take it in memory of your mother. She would be very proud of you.”

Elizabeth felt faint. Everything Father said and did turned the screws that much tighter. She would never escape the cage, just like her mother. Her only consolation was that she could help her sister, if she could summon the courage.
Lord, give me
strength.

She took a breath and straightened her back. Courage didn’t flood in, but the posture did create the impression of confidence. “I do have one condition. I cannot accept Mr. Finch without it.”

His expression darkened. “What is that?”

Her confidence faltered. She looked toward the fireplace and the portrait of her mother. “I’m certain my mother would approve.”

“Go on.”

She took another deep breath and plunged in. “Give me Anabelle.”

He flinched ever so slightly, but she saw it.

Seizing the opportunity, she pressed harder. “Mother was the one who insisted I take Anabelle with me to Charleston. She has been my maid for my entire life. I trust you wouldn’t send me away without that small comfort.”

His hesitation was small but noticeable. “Why insist upon that? It’s trivial. I will give her to you as a wedding gift.”

“I need that assurance now.”

“Need?” He stalked to the desk and pivoted to glare at her. The tactic might work in a courtroom, but Elizabeth was no defendant or witness. “Isn’t my word sufficient?”

“Your word is your honor, Papa. That’s why I’m asking for your word. I wish to bring Anabelle to the ball with me.” She held her breath. This was the test. If he truly loved her, he would agree.

“Is that all?” His expression eased. “Bring Anabelle if you
must.” He smiled. “I know that your word is your honor also. We shall announce your engagement tonight.”

She had done the right thing. That ought to make her feel better. Instead her insides churned even worse. What had Rourke said, that love did what was right even when it hurt? He didn’t say the pain would keep increasing.

She stumbled from the study, the brooch clasped tightly in her hand.

“Why did you do it?” Charlie had somehow managed to move his wheelchair to the door of his room.

“You were listening.”

“It’s impossible not to hear.” His face contorted, cheeks blotched with red. “How could you? How could you betray him?”

She took a shuddering breath. “You don’t understand.”

“Don’t treat me like a child. I understand perfectly, but I don’t believe it.” He slammed a fist against the arm of his wheelchair. “I never thought my sister would sell her soul to a cheat and a charlatan.”

C
harlie’s words stung. The cheat and charlatan was not their father. No, Charlie meant Mr. Finch. Elizabeth agonized through late afternoon, but she could think of no other way to help Anabelle. Rourke said love required sacrifice. She wished the cost was not so high. The thought of marrying Mr. Finch made her ill.

Finally, with the approaching darkness came an idea. She would seek help from the only person who agreed with her estimation of Finch.

She knocked on Charlie’s door. “May I enter?”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

Elizabeth glanced at the study door. It was open, and Father was not inside. “I need your help.”

“Why?”

She didn’t trust that Father wasn’t pacing nearby. “May I come in to explain?”

She took his grunt as assent and stepped in, taking care to close the door behind her.

Charlie sat at his desk, curls tousled and lips turned down. “I didn’t give you permission.”

She hurried to his side. “I can’t speak above a whisper in case Father is listening.”

That piqued his interest. He set down his pen and straightened his spine. “Father left the house half an hour ago. I suspect he went to inform Mr. Finch that he is engaged.”

Elizabeth pressed a hand to her midsection. “That’s why I need your advice. How can I be rid of him?”

Charlie’s brow ticked upward. “Isn’t it a little late for that?”

She couldn’t explain why she’d taken such a drastic step. If Charlie didn’t know that Anabelle was their half sibling, she couldn’t add that distress to his already shattered life.

She drew in a deep breath. “I don’t intend to go through with the engagement, but I must make Father believe I will until tonight.”

“I knew it! I knew you couldn’t abandon Rourke.”

“I won’t. I can’t.” She sank onto the chair beside his desk. “But how do I rid myself of Mr. Finch before it is too late?”

“Refuse him.”

“I have refused him three times already. He will not listen. Father will not listen. I can’t understand why they are so determined.”

“Your inheritance.”

Elizabeth stared. “You know about that?”

“I’ve known for years. Mother told me. Grandmama refused to settle it upon her and insisted it go to you instead.”

“If I marry the right man,” Elizabeth said dully. “But I don’t understand. I thought Grandmama approved of Father. Mother said—” Too late she realized she’d betrayed knowledge that Charlie could not know since he hadn’t seen the diary. “Mother
always led me to believe that Grandmama and Grandpapa were pleased she married Father.”

Charlie shrugged, apparently not noticing her slip of the tongue. “The point is that Mr. Finch is desperate to get his hands on your inheritance. Have you told Father this?”

“Not in so many words. I don’t think it would matter. Father is set on this match.” She couldn’t divulge that he expected her to rescue the family, since that largely meant helping Charlie. Her brother would never approve.

“That’s odd,” Charlie mused. “Usually Father sniffs out a man’s motives from the first conversation, yet he can’t see a thing wrong with Finch.”

Elizabeth’s pulse quickened. “You’re right. He appears to have a blind spot concerning Mr. Finch.”

“The question is why.”

“I don’t know.”

“Mr. Finch might be blackmailing him.”

Elizabeth couldn’t believe her brother would think such a thing, least of all say it.

“The question is over what,” Charlie said.

Her thoughts drifted to the conversation she had overheard in the dining room. “Aunt Virginia told Father that someone stole a document from her trunks.”

“That must be it. I wonder what it was.”

“I don’t know. She was very upset, though, and blamed Anabelle.” She puzzled through the events that had bewildered her at the time. “She said Mr. Poppinclerk locked her trunks the moment we arrived on the
Windsprite
, so the paper must have been taken from here.”

“Finch.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I’ve considered that, but he was
always surrounded by our family when he visited. When could he have slipped upstairs to search her trunks?”

“Maybe it was Mr. Poppinclerk, then.”

“What did he stand to gain?”

“We can’t know until we learn what was in the document,” Charlie wisely pointed out.

Elizabeth sighed with frustration. “None of this helps me figure out a way to get rid of Mr. Finch.”

“It would if we knew he had stolen the document, especially if it had anything to do with your inheritance.”

“I don’t think so.” Elizabeth thought back. “Father told me about the inheritance the night I arrived. Mr. Finch wouldn’t have had any opportunity to take the papers before then. Oh, this is all so confusing.”

Charlie grinned. “It’s like chess. To beat your opponent, you need to consider all the possible moves and what will happen for each one much farther into the game. We’re considering all the possibilities.”

“But none of them tell me what to do.”

“To best a man, you need to know his tendencies and his desires. What are Finch’s tendencies? Where does he spend his time and with whom?”

Elizabeth stared. “How do you come up with this?”

Charlie grinned. “You probably don’t know where he goes and whom he counts as a friend.”

She shook her head.

“Neither do I, so let’s concentrate on his desires. What does he want?”

“Money. Status. To marry me.”

“All of which come back to money. Now, let’s consider how we can use that against him.”

The answer was so obvious that Elizabeth couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it sooner. “Take away the reward, and he will lose interest.” She sprang to her feet and wrapped her arms around her brother. “Oh, thank you, Charlie.”

He squirmed out of her embrace, but his high color told her he was secretly pleased.

Now all that remained was to convince Aunt Virginia.

Before dressing for the ball, Elizabeth approached her great-aunt. After frank discussion and a great deal of persuasion, Aunt Virginia agreed to her plan, though she would not sign over the inheritance until they learned how Mr. Finch reacted. Since Aunt now had business to address, she claimed a headache too severe to attend the evening’s festivities.

By the time the carriage arrived in front of the house, all had been set in place. Though the night was fair and overly warm, even with the persistent southeast breeze, Elizabeth donned her black silk mantle. The blue-gray ball gown would be too visible in the light of the full moon.

Father frowned when she walked into the foyer. “A wrap in this heat?”

“I wanted to wear something black out of respect for Mother.”

“Humph. At least you’re no longer using that as an excuse not to marry.”

He assisted her into the carriage but was less enthusiastic when she insisted Anabelle ride beside her rather than on the driver’s seat with Nathan. Anabelle’s presence forced Mr. Finch to sit across from Elizabeth, where she must endure his smug satisfaction but was free from his groping hands.

He also could not refrain from commenting on her mantle.
“Do you expect a sudden chill? Surely the night air is not too cool.”

“One can never be too prepared. The winds might change.”

“Then allow me to carry it for you. I would not want you to feel the slightest discomfort.”

Elizabeth offered her thanks but demurred. She wanted every possible layer between them.

Anabelle kept her gaze averted, but Elizabeth couldn’t help wondering if the two men facing her saw the resemblance between them. If so, they said nothing. She breathed deeply. This course she had set in motion was the right one. Now all she needed was a moment alone with Mr. Finch.

The carriage slowed.

Father tapped his walking stick on the roof. “What’s the delay?”

Nathan leaned over and yelled down, “Line of carriages, sir.”

Father frowned. “I had hoped to make the announcement at once, before the orchestra strikes up and the dancing begins.”

“There will be time enough.” Elizabeth clutched her bag, feeling both Mother’s miniature and the gold brooch beneath the beaded silk. If all worked and she was able to leave with Rourke, that brooch could bring a handsome price to help them start wedded life. “Perhaps Mr. Finch might regale us with stories of growing up on a plantation. Cotton, was it?”

“Tobacco.”

“Ah, tobacco. Then you must partake of it?”

“Snuff, on occasion.”

That explained the foul odor when he had attempted to kiss her. Though her stomach churned, she must play the part of the eager fiancée. “Did your father always raise tobacco?”

Mr. Finch gave her a searching look. “Why all the questions?”

“Isn’t it common practice for a couple planning marriage to converse about their lives?” She had certainly talked to Rourke over the years. She knew he had three brothers and four sisters, all younger, and that his father had fished like his father before him. His mother not only kept the house but taught Bible stories to wee ones at their church. The stories of Rourke and his brothers taking the boat out at night to fish for sharks had thrilled her. His tales of diving wrecks terrified her. Within the past year his father had died. They shared similar loss.

Mr. Finch, however, had never mentioned his mother. She knew only that his father was a planter. Even now, he looked out the window rather than answer directly. “This is hardly the place, Elizabeth.”

“Agreed.” Father tapped his stick on the roof again. “I’m getting out. Maybe I can get those carriages ahead of us to move aside.”

Nathan hopped down from the driver’s seat and opened the door seconds before Father burst through it. Father was not a patient man, particularly when it came to small talk.

Elizabeth watched the door close, hardly able to believe her good fortune. The moment she needed had been handed to her by Father’s impatience. Now she must broach the matter in a way that seemed natural.

When Mr. Finch’s gaze returned to her, she offered a smile. “I’m glad for this moment alone.”

He glanced at Anabelle. “We are hardly alone.”

“My maid will always be with me. Did I tell you that Father has given me Anabelle as an engagement gift?” Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth saw Anabelle’s fingers twitch. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

Mr. Finch did not look pleased. “I’m only a legal clerk. My salary isn’t sufficient to support a houseful of servants.”

Elizabeth pouted. “But I can’t do housework, and Anabelle is a lady’s maid. We must hire a staff as soon as we marry. Or perhaps your father might send us some of his servants from the plantation.”

He blanched, just as she suspected he would, and avoided eye contact. Mr. Finch was hiding something, and she intended to find out what it was.

She batted her eyes, playing the part of the most spoiled belle she could imagine. “Surely on such a large plantation he can spare one or two slaves.”

He looked out the window. “Why aren’t we moving yet?”

Since he looked ready to bolt after Father, she threw out another bone. “Father hinted to me that he might make you a partner.”

Mr. Finch’s head snapped back. “He did?” His lips curled into an insufferably smug smile.

Though it galled her to play the role, this was her moment of opportunity. “Yes, indeed.” She threw a twittering giggle in for good measure. “How fortunate since Mother’s family has given the inheritance I was to receive to another member of the family.”

All color drained from his face. “Surely you are mistaken. Your father indicated that they approved me—that is, your decision to accept my proposal.”

Aha! So Mr. Finch knew of the inheritance all along, just as Charlie suspected.

She inched that smile a little higher, playing the role of the addle-brained fiancée. “At first they did, but my great-aunt informed me tonight of their change of heart.”

His gaze narrowed. “Impossible.”

“You may ask her yourself.”

“Where is she?” He scowled at Anabelle. “I expected her to join us.”

“A headache.”

He smirked. “How convenient. I couldn’t help but notice you waited until your father left to tell me this. Could it be, dear Elizabeth, that your ardor is not as great as you would have me believe?”