The Captain's Daughter (25 page)

He walked over to the door, and
then turned and looked at her. Fearing he may have scared her, he said: “Amy.
They are not after you. You are quite safe.”

But deep inside he didn’t quite
believe that.

“Please be careful, Ben.” Amy spoke
in a weak and shaky voice.

“I will. If you need me, or if
anything troubles you, or you see anything that is disquieting, you know where
to write to me. Amy, dear Amy, you’ll be with me wherever I am, and if need be
I will come to you.”

The words were indiscreet to utter
next to an open door where all could hear, but he didn’t care.

He hurried downstairs, nodding to
Amy’s mother on the way to the front door. Once outside, he jumped on his horse
and galloped off down the drive.

It tore him apart to leave Amy at
this time, but he must act to put an end to this terror and menace. To do that
he had to go to certain places and do certain things. Things he might never
speak of again. Benjamin Anstruther had begun on a mission to put an end to
robbery, violence, assassination, and terror, but now he had one that was even
more important to him, and that mission was to punish those who had threatened
the life of his beloved.

A few days
later
,
Emma was sitting at the bedside of an improved Amy, reading to her.

Emma’s eyes
were red and she was sniffling as she read from Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s
great classic novel
The Sorrows of Young Werther
: “
At twelve o'clock
Werther breathed his last. The presence of the steward, and the precautions he
had adopted, prevented a disturbance; and that night, at the hour of eleven, he
caused the body to be interred in the place which Werther had selected for
himself. The steward and his sons followed the corpse to the grave. Albert was
unable to accompany them. Charlotte's life was despaired of. The body was
carried by labourers. No priest attended
.”

Emma closed
Goethe’s novel, and blew her nose into her handkerchief.

“You know, dear
sister, that is not really the best of novels to read to a poor ailing body
such as myself,” said Amy with a smile.

“But it’s a
great book by a great writer.”

“There are many
great books by great writers, and few are suitable for convalescing souls.”

“Fine,” said
Emma, “perhaps I shouldn’t have read about his death and burial.”

“No, dear
sister,” replied Amy, “that was the most cheerful part. You don’t know how
happy I am that he is gone. It’s all the rest of the book that was depressing.
I know you don’t agree. You obviously were moved by the book. I didn’t know
books like that moved you so.”

“I’m not crying
for Werther and Charlotte, I’ve just got a slight cold.”

“Yes, I believe
you,” Amy teased good-naturedly. “Bye-the-way, you do realize they better not
find you with that book. I don’t think we are supposed to read it.”

“But Goethe is
a great writer and poet,” protested Emma.

“I still don’t
think we are supposed to read Father’s books.”

“Why not, they
are in the library and no one told us not to read them?”

“I’m pretty
sure Mother doesn’t know what’s in them. The rows of books in the library are
just decoration to her. But I rather suspect that Mrs. Parkhurst does know, and
she would be shocked if she found you reading a book like
Young Werther
.

Their literary
discussion was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Hide the
book,” Amy said urgently.

Emma looked
around for a hiding place.

“Quick, under
my pillow.”

She shoved it under
Amy’s pillow.

“Miss Amy.”

Effie’s voice
came from outside the door.

“Come in,”
called Emma.

Effie came in
to inform Amy she had visitors.

“Who?”

“Sir Frank and
Lady Ramsey, Lady Amy. Let me help you sit up, milady.”

As Effie
reached for the pillow, Amy remembered what was under it. While Effie seeing
the novel certainly wasn’t the same as the reproachful Mrs. Parkhurst,
never-the-less restricting the number of people who are aware of your vices to
a minimum, preferably no one, seemed the best course to follow.

“No! Just leave
it as it is. I’m too ill to sit up.”

“But Miss, you
said just after breakfast that you felt so much better.”

“Well I’ve
changed my mind. I feel worse now.”

“Oh Miss,
you’re not getting sick.”

“No, I just
feel worse. Don’t worry, and don’t say anything to my mother.”

Amy wasn’t sure
her conversation with Effie made sense, but she was distracted by the Ramseys
as they entered her room.

As well as she
could while lying on a pillow, Amy nodded and greeted Sir Frank and Lady
Ramsey.

“Let me help
you sit up, dear,” said Lady Ramsey heading in Amy’s direction.

“No, no thank
you,” said Amy. She doubted that the Ramsays would betray her secret, or even
care for that matter, but everyone seemed to be doing what they could to bring
Young
Werther
out from his hiding place.

“Are you
feeling very sick, child?”

“No, Lady
Ramsey, I am much better than I was. I’m just tired and have to lie like
this—because of my wound.”

Lady Ramsey
looked distressed. Sir Frank seemed to notice Emma for the first time sitting
demurely in the chair near Amy’s bed.

“How’s our
little scientist?” he inquired, and noticing her red eyes, “Have you been
crying?”

Emma shook her
head, blew her nose, and said: “No, I’ve just got a little cold.”

“Well take care
of yourself. We don’t want you getting sick, too.”

Sir Frank
turned to Amy.

“Well, how is
our wounded warrior?”

“I am
recovering well.”

“Have you had
any fever?” asked Lady Ramsey.

“No. None
whatsoever.”

“That is really
good.”

“Imagine Esty,”
Sir Frank said to his wife, “I fought the colonists for four years, and not
even their sharp shooters could get me, but poor Amy gets shot in front of her
own house.

“Frank,” she
reproved him, “you’ll scare her and make her feel worse.”

“Warriors don’t
scare that easily, do they Amy,” he said hoping he didn’t worry her. “Well,
anyway, we brought you something to make you feel better. Effie, fetch that
package.”

Effie hurried
out and brought in a box that the Ramseys had left on the small table on the
upstairs landing. Amy and Emma were curious about its contents. Sir Frank gave
the box to Amy. She struggled up on her pillow and opened it, and then looked
up at them with a bright smile.

“It’s solid
chocolate, dear,” said Lady Ramsey.

“Solid
chocolate?” asked Emma. “Does that mean you can you eat it?”

“No dear,” Lady
Ramsey laughed, “you need to have the maid grind it and mix it with sugar and
milk. It’s just like having your own chocolate house.

“I don’t know
why,” said Sir Frank, “that most of the chocolate houses have gone out of
business in London and been replaced by coffee houses. Chocolate is much
better.”

“I think it’s
because coffee costs a lot less,” said Lady Ramsey.

Amy grinned and
thanked them. She appreciated the tasty gift. Emma offered to take it down to
the kitchen right away, so the cook can prepare everybody some.

“No, keep it
for yourselves,” said Sir Frank, “They say it has medicinal benefits and you
both look as if you need it.”

“Are you sure
you don’t want me to help you sit up?” Lady Ramsey asked again.

Amy was resting
her head on her hand, and gently slipped it under the pillow.
Young Werther
was still there, safe and sound.

“No thank you,
Lady Ramsey,” she said, with a mischievous smile.

“As long as
you’re feeling more chipper Amy,” said Sir Frank, “I think I should go see your
Father. Come dear, we should let her rest up for dinner.”

“You will be
eating dinner with us?” asked Amy.

“No dear, we
have an appointment to eat dinner at the Brewminsters, but we will be back
soon.”

He asked Emma
how she was enjoying the telescope. While Lady Ramsey said her goodbyes to Amy,
Emma, holding the box of chocolate, said she would take it down to the kitchen.

As they started
to leave, Amy called to them. A question had just occurred to her.

“Sir Frank,
that night in Bath, a guest called Lord Eskman was present. Do you know him?”

He thought for
a moment.

“Not very well,
in fact, that was the first time we ever dined with him, but we have heard some
mention of him.”

“I was told he
has a wife,” said Amy, “but she was not there.”

“Well dear,”
said Sir Frank, “there could be any number of reasons for that. He might have
been there on business. Maybe she was on a visit to a relative, or perhaps was
ailing. Why would that be significant?”

“I was just
curious,” said Amy meekly, realizing that to people unaware of her quest, it
likely sounded like a strange question.

“You say he is
married,” said Sir Frank, “I’ve got to admit I didn’t know that, but as I said,
I barely know the man.”

“I’m sorry if I
seem like I’m pestering you,” she said as they started to leave again, “but the
Compte that was also at dinner, do you know him.”

“Is there
anyone else you would like to know about?” said Sir Frank jokingly.

“As a matter of
fact, yes,” said Amy. She wondered if she should mention him. Yes, she decided.
“Have you ever heard of a Sir Ishmael Anselan?”

Sir Frank
thought hard. He was about to say no, and then hesitated.

“There is
something familiar about that name but I can’t think why. You certainly have a
lot of questions. Sorry I cannot be of more help, but if I think or hear
anything about anyone on your list, I’ll write and let you know.”

Amy thanked
them, very much aware they must be puzzled by her questions.

“Well, dear, if
that is all we’ll leave now. Please take good care of yourself. And that goes
for you too, Professor Emma.

Once they were
gone, Amy dejectedly slid further down under her covers. Her pillow felt
uncomfortable. She put her hand under her pillow and extracted
Young Werther
just as Emma came back into her room. Get rid of this thing, Amy told her,
tossing the book to Emma.

Emma slipped it
under her clothes, looked out in the hall, and then left. Amy lay back on her
pillow, which now seemed softer. The Ramseys were leaving, she was in bed
wounded, Young Werther and Charlotte were dead, and Ben was leaving her and
heading into a future fraught with unknown dangers. And some mysterious
assassin might well be lying in wait for her. Things could probably be better.

Four days
later, Amy sat basking in the warm sun of late August in her mother’s rose
garden which was at the rear of the house. She was crocheting, which was a most
unusual activity for her, but somehow it felt good that day. Suddenly Ben
appeared. At first she didn’t realize it was Ben. He was dressed in the sort of
clothes a poor clerk who was not enjoying the best of times might wear, and he
was sporting a pair of thin-rimmed spectacles.

When she
finally recognized who it was she said: “I thought you were gone.”

“That’s a fine
warm greeting for a good friend.”

“What are you
doing here, Ben?”

“You really
didn’t recognize me, did you Amy?”

“I suppose I
didn’t, but remember I’ve been sick.”

“Not that sick.
It is really gratifying that you didn’t know at first who I was. I didn’t want
to be recognized or followed.”

“If they really
are watching your house, don’t you think it would be pretty easy to figure out
it was you?

“But I didn’t
come from my house. In fact, I’ll let you know I walked here all the way from
the Stokely-on-Arne inn just to see you.”

“I’m so honored
that a gentleman would do that for humble me,” Amy said with feigned sarcasm
and grin. “But why?”

“To be honest,
I wanted to try out my disguise, and I also wanted to see you, because I felt
that my departure last week was too abrupt. I wanted to see you to let you know
I well may be gone for a while, it all depends on how things work out.”

Amy was
worried.

“Please be
careful,” She urged him as she stood up, just a little shaky.

“Are you all
right, Amy?”

“I’m much
better, thank you, Sir Benjamin.”

They slowly
moved closer to one another.

“I will keep
asking questions until we find a solution to your mystery,” he half whispered
for no apparent reason but the closeness.

Amy made
several small comments about his well-being and he made several comments about
hers, as they drew closer to each other. They finally were face-to-face and
could draw no closer. He gave her a short, passionate kiss, and promptly
departed.

As he walked
around the corner of the house he passed Emma who was carrying a pitcher of
chocolate. He shouted a quick greeting to her. Emma carried the pitcher over to
Amy, walking unsteadily.

“Why were you
kissing that strange man?” she asked Amy.

Amy looked up
at her sister who had suddenly stopped speaking. Emma was pale and staring
silently straight ahead, her eyes not moving. Then she fell to the ground
unconscious.

On Sunday
, as the family
ate breakfast, Emma was not there. Several times her mother sent Effie to tell
her she had to come to breakfast. Each time Effie found her still in bed.

“Perhaps she’s
getting sick, Mother.” suggested Amy, “After all, she fainted yesterday as Ben
was leaving. She’s never done that before.”

Finally, as the
family finished their breakfast and prepared to leave for church, Emma
appeared.

“What’s the
matter, Emma,” asked Amy when she saw how she looked.

Emma was pale
and bedraggled. She stood in the door of the dining room swaying slightly.

“Are you sick,
dear?” asked her mother although Emma’s appearance and demeanor answered that
question.

“I think I have
a bad cold,” replied Emma huskily.

“Why don’t you
stay home, dear, there’s no reason to give your cold to everyone in church. If
you go back to bed you might feel better later in the day.”

Amy furrowed
her brow as she looked at her sister. She placed her hand on Emma’s forehead.

“You’re running
a slight fever, Emma.” Amy turned to her mother. “She’s running a fever,
Mother. Maybe we should see if the doctor could come and see her.”

“Oh dear,” said her mother, “I
don’t like to bother Dr. Chisolm on the Lord ’s Day. But if we see him in
church, we could speak with him.”

As the family left, Amy looked at
her sister with deep concern. She thought it looked worse than a bad cold, even
though Emma’s fever was not too bad—but it could quickly get worse. Her
concerns were deepened by the fact that all the servants in the house went to
church. Emma would be home by herself. They left her propped in a chair in the
sitting room, covered in a blanket, with a pitcher of water and some pastries
on the table next to her.

At the church that morning Amy was
concerned. She remembered that when they were at Mae Bickford’s house Emma
visited with little Meg, who was feeling poorly and running a fever.

After a while, despite the fact
that Reverend Howley’s sermon was both animated and interesting, as was usual,
her troubled thoughts returned to the question of her own identity. She could
not help but glance over at her mother. She was keenly aware that her mother
must know a whole lot more than she was telling. But did she know who Amy really
was? Somehow, and in some way, Amy had to pry that information out of her
mother. She was determined to do it. She just had to think of a way.

After the services, as they were
getting ready to leave the church, she noticed the Ramseys were there. They
must have arrived after Amy and her family were already in their pew. Once they
were outside of the church, they visited with the Ramsey's. At least, all
except Mattie who had rediscovered Lazarus. The Ramsey's had spent the night at
Brewminster Hall and intended to return to London that very afternoon. Lady
Ramsey was still worried about traveling at night because of the highwaymen.
Sir Frank could not convince her that it was probably safe. The word ‘probably’
was not entirely persuasive to her. All of the recent attacks seemed to have
occurred to coaches traveling west or north of London not in the other
direction to the south on the Dover road as might have been expected. This was
very puzzling. It suggested that the highwaymen knew in advance who they
intended to rob. Most of the victims, although not all, were French families
who had escaped the Reign of Terror.

When Amy and her mother prepared to
leave, having peeled Mattie away from Lazarus, which had not proved easy to do,
Sir Frank noticed that Emma was not with them.

“Where is Emma, my little
scientist?” he asked good-naturedly.

“We’re a little worried about her,”
said Amy. “She’s not feeling well and running a bit of a fever, and yesterday
she fainted. She seemed better later in the day, but she did not look good this
morning.”

“We will try to get away from the
Brewminsters right after lunch, and come by before we head for London,” said
Sir Frank furrowing his brow.

“We’re pretty sure all she has is a
cold,” Lady Sibbridge assured him. “Her fever is mild, although she did not
look good when we left, but I’m sure she is likely much better now.”

“Well, Esty and I will be by right
after lunch to see her and Tony,” said Sir Frank.

Amy and her mother took their quick
goodbyes but did not visit with their usual acquaintances, instead they got
into their coach and hurried on home.

As was usual, the household help
rushed home immediately after services were concluded. When the family arrived
home, Effie was waiting on the front steps of the house. Before the coach even
came to a halt, she ran towards them.

“Lady Emma has a burning fever,”
she blurted out, her voice shaking.

Amy hurried inside. Emma was in the
drawing room propped up on a couch. Amy felt her forehead. She
was
burning up. Amy hurried out of the front door just as her mother and father
approached.

“I need to go and get Dr. Chisolm,”
she told them, and then called to old Hubert and the coachman who were taking
the coach to the coach house, to bring it back urgently.

When Amy and Dr. Chisolm returned a
short time later Emma had already been moved up to her bedroom. Amy and the
doctor found her sister sitting up in bed. She seemed to be feeling a little
better but was still quite hot. In response to the doctor's queries, she told
him that other than the fever the only thing that was troubling her was a sore
throat but it wasn't very bad.

Just as the doctor was finishing
with Emma, the Ramseys arrived. When Amy told the doctor that as soon as the
trap was ready she would take him back into town, the Ramseys volunteered to
take the doctor to his home. They explained that they wanted to see Emma but
could only wait a little while, as Lady Ramsey was anxious to get back to
London before sundown because of the highwaymen.

“I’ve tried to convince Esty that
we’re not in too much danger since one of the oddities about the recent
robberies is that the highwaymen seem to know who they want to target. Most of
their victims are members of the French aristocracy who are fleeing the Reign
of Terror in France, and carrying valuables with them. But I can’t convince
her.”

“Not all the victims are from
France,” broke in Lady Ramsey, “what about the Belmonts, and the Sidburys?”

“That's true,” Sir Frank admitted,
“there are some other victims who have been robbed. But they may have been
indiscreet when they stopped at a tavern, and someone there tipped-off one of
our enterprising domestic highwaymen.”

“Some of these robberies have been
on the road between here and London. And in broad daylight,” said Lady Ramsey.

“There has been some suspicion,”
said Sir Frank, “that they must have a den near the London road.”

“A den?” Amy was curious.

“Someplace where they hide out and
keep their loot,” answered Sir Frank.

“Remember what we found,” said Emma
trying to sit up.

“What?” said Amy.

“Remember,” said Emma, “the pendant
we found.”

“Oh yes,” said Amy turning to the
Ramseys, “there is an old ruined mill next to the river near here. Emma found a
pendant at the mill. We assumed that somebody who lives locally had lost it, so
we brought it home with the idea of showing it to the people who live around
here so we could find out who it belonged to, but we have not had a chance to
do that yet.”

“I'll get the pendant,” said Emma
rising from her bed.

As soon as she got out of bed she
almost fainted. Lady Ramsey rushed over to help her back in bed.

“Where is it?” asked Amy. “Tell me
where you put it and I’ll fetch it.”

Following Emma's directions, she
retrieved the pendant and showed it to the Ramseys. Lady Ramsey was shocked
when she saw it.

She turned and looked gravely at
Sir Frank.

“That looks like Esther Belmont’s
pendant, don't you think?”

Sir Frank looked carefully at the
pendant.

“I’m not as good as Esty at
remembering what people wore, but I must confess, it does look familiar.”

“That’s the name on the back of the
pendant,” said Emma excitedly turning the pendant over.

Amy handed the pendant to Lady
Ramsey, who turned it over. Lady Ramsey looked intently at Sir Frank. He
examined the back of the pendant. Engraved in fancy letters was the name

Esther
.

“Maybe this is the opportunity we
have been looking for to catch the thieves,” said Sir Frank. “Tell me, Emma,
where did you say you found this?”

Emma who seemed slightly
invigorated explained about the lights she and Amy had seen at the mill. Amy
said nothing, but she remembered that the only person she had actually seen at
the mill was Ben—dressed in rough clothing.

A little later, when the Ramseys
leave, they take with them the doctor—and the pendant.

For the first time in a while, Amy
had worries to occupy her mind other than those regarding her origin. She was
concerned about Mattie. And she was especially worried about Emma. She visited
Emma several times during the afternoon. Emma reassured her she was feeling a
little better even though her throat was still sore.

“I’ve had worse sore throats in the
past.”

Amy was not convinced.

At dinner time that night, Amy
insisted on taking Emma’s dinner tray to her rather than letting Effie take it
up to her. Despite Emma’s protestations Amy sat with her making conversation.
Emma only ate a little, claiming she just wasn’t hungry. Later, over dinner in
the dining room, Amy was cautiously optimistic about Emma.

But she still insisted on sitting
with Emma most of the evening before turning in for the night. Despite Amy’s
presence, Emma slept most of the evening. Amy felt that Emma was just not
herself. She suspected that Emma was putting on a front and was sicker than she
claimed. When it was time to go to bed, Amy felt the sleeping Emma’s forehead.
She thought the fever might be reduced, but was not sure that she was not
fooling herself because of wishful thinking.

During the night, Amy awakened
suddenly, but was not sure why. She had an uneasy feeling. Going out into the
hallway she heard what seemed to be talking coming from Emma’s room. Walking
silently to it, she listened at the door. Emma was talking, but in a way that
was somehow different from normal. Amy knocked lightly on the door, but Emma
although talking sporadically did not respond. She opened Emma’s door and
walked into the room. Emma was sitting up in bed, bathed in the light of the
slightly waning moon, staring straight ahead and speaking fitfully, but to no
one. She acted as if she was talking to someone who was not there. Emma was
hallucinating. Amy had never seen the like before.

Amy felt her sister’s forehead.
Emma was burning up. Amy brought the water basin over to Emma’s bedside, and
dipped the hand towel in the water. She gently wiped Emma’s face. Emma seemed
to look at her but said nothing. Amy was unsure what to do. Everyone was
asleep. Just then the clock chimed four o’clock. Would it do any good to awaken
the others? What could they do? Should they send for Dr. Chisolm? Could he
help? Can anyone do anything for a fever, or did it have to take its course?
She fretted about what would be the best, until she heard the clock strike
five. She hurried and awakened her mother.

Finally, about six in the morning
Amy went to the stable and pounded on the door of the room where the stable
help sleep. Daniel, the stable hand, sleepily answered the door. She sent him
to fetch Dr. Chisolm.

When the doctor arrived, after
checking Emma in a variety of ways, as Amy, Mattie, and their mother looked on
anxiously, he extracted from his bag a large glass cylinder, which is over a
foot long.

“This is a device for measuring
body temperature,” he told the puzzled onlookers, “it was developed some years
past by George Martine. Martine died about fifty years ago. He studied the
effect of thermal analysis and calorimetry on the treatment of illnesses but
unfortunately not much has been done to follow up on his work.”

According to the doctor’s crude
instrument Emma had a temperature of 105 or 106 degrees. This confirmed what
they already knew, that her fever was very high. Amy’s mother was distraught as
was Mattie.

All day long, the fever persisted
as Amy sat vigil at her sister’s bedside. Occasionally, Emma would awaken
briefly but seemed little aware of her surroundings, or of Amy’s presence. She
often hallucinated before slumping back into a troubled stupor. When her mother
or Mattie or Effie were present Amy maintained a stoic demeanor, but when alone
she tearfully prayed for her sister’s recovery.

As the day wore on, Emma’s
condition seemed to worsen. Her bouts of consciousness became less and less,
and a feeling of leaden darkness filled Amy.

 Amy and her family were
terrified they were going to lose Emma.

After the family went to bed that
night, leaving Emma in Amy’s capable but exhausted hands, Amy drifted off to
sleep.

Sometime in the night she was
awakened by a feeble voice saying: “Amy, is that you?”

The candle had gone out and the
room was dark. Amy rushed over to the window and yanked open the curtains. The
room flooded with moonlight. Emma was sitting up in bed, swaying slightly from
feebleness, and looking at Amy.

Amy rushed over to her sister and
felt her sweaty forehead. The fever had broken and Emma was still with them.
Amy broke down in loud sobs.