The Captain (23 page)

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Authors: Lynn Collum

BOOK: The Captain
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While Stritch tied the man to the chair, Drew asked the most pressing question. “Where is Mrs. Devere? Is she here?”
The steward's face became a stone mask of indifference. This wasn't going to be easy.
“Weems,” Drew leaned close as the butler finished his task and stepped back. “Either you talk and tell us what we want to know or,” Drew straightened and looked at the fire which had spread from the rug up the leg of a chair, “we leave you to the fate that you intended for Miss Blanchett and Wilkins.” It was a bluff. No matter what the man had done, Drew wouldn't do such a thing, but he hoped such a man wouldn't see though the threat. He looked at Jacinda and for a moment horror filled her eyes, then she saw the truth in his face. After an almost imperceptible nod she remained silent, allowing him to handle the man.
Weems eyes grew wide as he watched the fire spread. “You—you can't.”
“I can and I will. Where is Mrs. Devere?”
“I—I only woke her up and took her outdoors. She's somewhere in the gardens. I thought since she'd tried to burn her niece once, that it would be the perfect opportunity to cover what I did.”
Relief filled Drew. He'd been afraid the man had done something more to the old woman. His brow flattened. “Why are you trying to kill Miss Blanchett? There can be little doubt you arranged her father's murder. What is this about?”
Weems's face twisted with painful memories and he yelled at Jacinda. “Your father deserved to die. I wanted him to suffer the way I suffered for his dastardly behavior.”
Her hand moved to her throat. The hatred in his voice was chilling. “My father wronged you?”
“The scoundrel ruined my only sister, a beautiful young girl in the prime of her youth. She was but seventeen when he met her in Bath and ... and took her virtue by making her think he loved her. It was only later she learned he was married with a wife and child of his own. Within a month she learned she was with child.” Weems grew quiet for a moment, staring into the flames on the floor, tears rolling down his face. “She threw herself into the Avon rather than bear the shame. When they pulled her body from the river I swore I'd make him pay.” A satisfied calm came to his face. “And I did.”
“But why kill Jacinda? She was an innocent in all that.” Drew believed the man was almost as mad as Mrs. Devere. His quest had consumed his whole life.
Weems's gaze raked Jacinda with disdain. “Why should she live when my sister lies cold in her grave?”
“And Wilkins? Why murder him?”
A cunning grin curled the corners of the man's mouth. “The parlor maids were always nattering about what the Quality were doin'. I found out everyone had been looking for a new will that was drawn up just before he died. So I went to Bath and found a man who drew up a will that left the foundry fortune to Giles Devere and the estate to me. It was dated the last week of Blanchett's life. Wilkins would have been one of the few people who might have questioned the signature or the contents.”
Drew and Jacinda exchanged a surprised look. Neither expected a conspiracy. “Giles was in this with you?”
Weems gave a superior laugh. “I'd hardly throw my lot in with that fool, but he makes a perfect sacrifice, does he not? Always in need of money for his gamin', expensive tastes, and without many redeemin' features. Admit it, you all suspected him, did you not?”
Drew couldn't deny he was right. “But don't you think everyone would have questioned leaving an estate to a man who was a complete stranger when there were family survivors?”
“I can run this estate far better than any member of Blanchett's family. The man had littered the countryside with his by-blows. I merely wrote a letter pretending my mother had declared me to be the man's son. After the fire I meant to stash the letter and the will in a secret panel in the desk in the library. I saw him open it once when he didn't know I was watching. I searched it after he died and the girl disappeared. It has a list of his dirty little mistakes and the payments made to cover himself.”
Sickened, Jacinda turned her back on Weems to stare out into the darkness. It was clear that her father's deeds and their aftermath were causing her great pain. But she wasn't so weak she would give up before she'd heard the whole story. With her back still to him she asked, “And who were those men who attacked us?”
“My cousin and his friend did the deed for a mere ten pounds and passage to America, so the law can't get their hands on them,” Weems gloated.
Drew wanted to smash the man's face but he held himself in check. “And who fired the shot at Jacinda on her first day back.”
The steward pressed his lips closed, but when Drew pulled him towards the burning rug, he began to speak, “A man I met in an ale house in Wells. I hired him when I learned she”—he gestured at Jacinda with his head—“was comin' home. He'd lost a leg in the war and couldn't find work. Claimed he was a marksman, but he missed.”
“I want his name.” Drew demanded.
“Crawley's his name. But he's gone back to London, so you'll never find him.”
“No, but a magistrate might.” A small clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour of two. There would be nothing more accomplished tonight. “Stritch, we must take Weems back to the manor. Is there some place we can lock him up until morning?”
“The cellars, sir.”
Drew moved to take Jacinda in his arms while Stritch undid the man's ropes. “Have you heard what you came to hear?”
She nodded her head, her gaze on the brandy-induced fire. As she looked at the shards of glass, it struck her that the brandy was from her father's private stock—but none of that mattered now. “We must do something or the cottage will burn.”
Drew went into the small bedroom. He came back with a blanket, which he threw over the fire, then stamped on the flames beneath. It smoldered and the flames, unrestrained for so long, resisted his efforts.
All eyes were on the process. Weems suddenly darted for the door. But instead of escaping, he grabbed Jacinda in a stranglehold.
Drew stepped toward him but stopped as Weems's arm tightened round her neck. “I'll kill her if you come closer.”
“Let her go.” Drew demanded even as his gut clenched. He couldn't lose Jacinda now. They would be able to live at last out from under the cloud of fear that had dogged her for eight years.
Weems backed towards the door, pulling her with him. “I may not get the estate, but I shall certainly avenge my sister's—”
A dull thud sounded as the man stiffened, his eyes rolled up in his head and he groaned. His arm slid from Jacinda as he collapsed to the ground. She ran straight into Drew's open arms. There in the doorway stood Thomas Wilkins in his nightshirt and banyan, a piece of firewood in his hand.
“Burn my best jackets, will you?” He glared down at Weems body as Drew pulled Jacinda into his arms. “What the devil was this man's game?” The old solicitor looked from Stritch to Drew to Jacinda.
The captain sighed. “It's a long, ugly story and I shall tell it all in the morning. Stritch, remain here and keep a guard on Weems. I shall take Miss Blanchett back to the house. We'll send James down to help take him to the wine cellar.”
The old solicitor looked at the others for an explanation of what had happened, but Drew shook his head, signifying that it wasn't the time. Wilkins nodded. “I shall remain here with Stritch. Wouldn't want this dastard to come to and cause trouble again.”
At a quarter past two o'clock, fatigue was evident in all their faces. Still Jacinda asked, “What about Aunt Devere?”
Mr. Wilkins sat heavily on the chair recently vacated by the steward, the drug he'd been given still making him sluggish. “I quite forgot. That was why I came down. She was found wandering in the back meadow, perfectly unharmed.”
Jacinda sagged into Drew's arm with relief, then her gaze roved to the man unconscious on the ground. Pain played on her face for the man she'd thought her friend. Drew squeezed her closer and she looked up at him.
“Come, my dear, you need to rest.”
She didn't protest and allowed him to lead her out of the smoky cottage. She was so silent on the walk back that he became concerned. On the front steps of the manor, Drew stopped before he opened the door. “I adore you, my love. It's truly over at last and I want you to put all this behind you. Will you marry me tomorrow? We shall start anew.”
He couldn't see her features in the darkness, but her voice sounded tired and defeated. “I feel so ashamed of what my father did. How much pain and hurt he caused. How can I just go on as if none of it matters?”
“Your father paid for his actions with his life and almost cost you yours. I cannot make my father any different from what he is—a gambler who will go straight back to his old ways the moment he is back on his feet. He is what he is as was your father. We, neither of us, must spend the rest of our lives trying to make up for their failings.”
He heard her soft sigh, then she melted into his arms. “I do so love you.”
Drew crushed her to him. “Then be mine. Sail to India with me. Once there I can arrange with my business partners to move my routes back to England. I'll sail the
Flying Dragon
in the Irish Seas instead. We can settle down here at Chettwood.”
“India?” He heard the interest in her voice, then she said, “But I have been away for so long, shouldn't I—”
“Millie has done a wonderful job of seeing to things. Perhaps she would agree to continue for a while longer.”
“But what about Ben?”
“Shall we take the scamp with us? We can hire a tutor to go as well.”
She laughed. “He would certainly prefer it to school in the fall.”
“Then say yes, my love.” He could think of nothing better than sailing the seas with Jacinda. She would make his life complete.
“Yes, my love. A sea voyage would be just the thing for a new beginning,” she whispered just before his lips covered hers.
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Copyright © 2005 by Jerry Lynn Smith
 
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ISBN: 978-1-4201-3031-7
 
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