The Golden Cross (57 page)

“That wench will not be allowed over the threshold of this house again,” the old crone rasped through the keyhole. “And you dishonor my master’s memory by speaking her name. Now be gone!”

He backed away, stunned by such a reception. Had Aidan endured the same disdain today? If she was not welcomed here, where would she go? And why had she gone off without him? She had been unhappy when he left to tend Dekker, but surely her anger had faded by now.

He paused, remembering the brooding emotion evident in her last painting. Perhaps her anger hadn’t faded. Or perhaps she thought he honestly intended to abandon her. The idea made no sense, but sometimes Aidan brooded about things that mystified him.

He walked to the street and sat on a carriage block, twisting his hat in his hands as he considered her options. She might have gone to an inn; an unescorted lady could take a room with no questions asked if she had a good reputation in the town. The bulge of impending birth had not yet begun to show beneath her gown, so no one would think ill of her for traveling alone … yet.

He forced a smile. Perhaps this was some sort of game, something they would laugh about in years to come. “But darling, I thought you’d know I’d go to such-and-such a place,” she’d say, and he’d smile and kiss her forehead, amazed at how ignorant and foolish he had been in their early days.

But at this moment, he could not find any humor in the
situation. His labors aboard the
Zeehaen
had left him exhausted, hungry, worried, and badgered by a series of questions revolving around a golden cross …

A coach and four approached from the center of town, and Sterling stood, noting that the black plumes of mourning adorned the horses’ heads. He stepped back from the carriage block so the occupant of the coach could alight. A young woman, soberly dressed in a mourning veil and black gown, exited, then nodded to her husband. The second man, however, halted upon the carriage block and stared curiously at Sterling.

“I know you,” he murmured, removing his crepe-rimmed hat.

The first man, his arm linked through the young woman’s, paused on the cobblestone path. “Henrick, Gusta is waiting for us.”

“I’ll be along in a moment,” the second man answered. He waited until the couple had entered the house, then he lifted a finger and pointed to Sterling. “You were the doctor aboard the
Heemskerk
, my father’s ship. I spoke to you briefly before the ship sailed.”

“Yes.” Sterling bowed formally. “Let me be among the first to convey my condolences. Your father was an exceptional man, and a gentleman in every sense of the word.”

The young man nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Thank you, sir.” His brows lifted. “I don’t mean to inconvenience you, but sometime I would like to hear exactly what happened to my father. Captain Tasman came by earlier this afternoon to bring the sad news, but my sister and I still have many questions.”

“Tasman came here?” Sterling felt a curious, tingling shock. “Did he, by chance, mention what happened to Aidan, your father’s protégée? She seems to have disappeared from the ship.”

“The captain did not mention her.” Henrick leaned heavily upon his cane. “But I would imagine she has returned to the gutters where Father dug her up.” An icy expression settled on his face. “If you have the bad taste to seek that sort of entertainment,
Doctor, I would imagine that you could find any number of women like her on the corner near the Broad Street Tavern. The procuress there has a stable of women who will do most anything for a coin or two, and I’ve heard that my father’s little protégée, as you called her, is the procuress’s own daughter.”

A sudden surge of rage caught Sterling unaware, like a bolt of white-hot lightning that struck his chest and belly. He stared at the man in astonishment, his fury almost choking him. Then he reined in his emotions. Young Van Dyck had just suffered a serious blow. Perhaps he wasn’t thinking clearly. Certainly he was misinformed.

Numb with shock, Sterling stiffly thanked Henrick Van Dyck for his help and walked slowly down the street.

S
terling wandered the streets, stumbling through alleys, over cobblestone paths and dusty trails. He begged the innkeepers to search their guest registers, but no one had seen a young woman who called herself Aidan Thorne or Aidan O’Connor. Sterling’s panic began to rise. His steps led him back toward the wharf, toward the docks, the taverns, and the flophouses. He didn’t think he’d find Aidan in such miserable conditions, but she had come ashore in a barge crowded with seamen, and one of the men from the
Heemskerk
might know where she had gone.

After the clean scents of the sea, the odors of the crowded wharf seemed to close in on him like a vile mist, and the cheerful vulgarity of the crowds near the dock irritated him beyond measure. He paused before the threshold of the Broad Street Tavern. The name of the place registered in his frenzied brain, so he pushed his way through the crowd to the bar. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood there, one hand on the spout of a cask, the other holding a pewter mug.

The barkeep caught Sterling’s eye and dipped his chin in a slight nod. “What will you have?” he asked, filling the mug. “Rum, ale, wine, or whiskey?”

“Nothing for me.” Sterling turned to search the room. The place teemed with loud women and tipsy seamen, and a cloud of tobacco smoke hovered over everything.

“You can’t stand at my bar for nothing.” The bartender’s fist
rapped the bar near Sterling’s elbow. “So I’ll ask you again—what will you have?”

Sterling glanced over his shoulder. The man’s face had darkened menacingly. “Pour me a pint of ale then.” Sterling fished a coin from his purse, dropped it on the counter, then turned back to the room. “And leave me alone for a while.”

“Suit yourself.” A moment later the promised pint slid over the polished mahogany counter. Sterling ignored it, his eyes flitting instead over the crowd that swayed and stirred to the boisterous music. He thought he recognized a couple of seamen, but they were happily engaged with the tavern maids: each had an arm already entwined about a slender waist.

Sterling clenched his fist against the rising tide of frustration and despair that rose within him. Confound the woman! Where had she gone, and why hadn’t she left word or sent a message to him? This was no accident and no game. The Aidan he knew and loved wouldn’t want him to worry. She had either come to great harm, or she had not forgiven him for leaving the ship to tend Witt Dekker.

The memory of her face loomed before him as if a curtain had been ripped aside. “Sterling, please,” she had begged him, her eyes filling with tears. At the time he had thought her passion and unreasonableness merely harmless symptoms of her pregnancy. But what if his leaving had caused her to doubt his love? Did she think he would always place his patients before her? She knew he lived for her and the coming baby—or did she?

He turned and scrubbed his hand through his hair, as if it might stimulate his brain to more effective thought. He wrapped his hand around the pewter mug and squeezed it hard, searching for a reason, a clue, some insight that might lead him to where Aidan was.

The bartender came forward and glared down his prominent nose. “What’s that you’re wearing?” he asked, his voice as flat and rough as sandpaper.

“What?”

“Around your neck,” the bartender growled. His huge hand reached forward and tugged on the gold chain until the cross clinked against the polished bar.

“It’s a cross,” Sterling answered dully. “Lots of people wear them.”

“Not like this,” the man responded. He leaned closer, and Sterling flinched at the sour smell of the man’s breath. “This is Aidan’s cross—her daddy gave it to her.” The glitter in the man’s half-closed eyes was both possessive and accusing. “So tell me how you came by it.”

Sterling stared in silence for a moment, then the man’s words registered. He knew Aidan! And he knew this cross had been hers!

“Where is she?” Sterling demanded, stiffening. His own hand reached out and closed around the bartender’s wrist. “If you’ve seen her, you must tell me now.”

More surprised than frightened, the bartender blinked. “Why do you want to know?” His eyes narrowed again in suspicion. “And who are you? Aidan’s got herself in a bad way, and she’s with Lili now.”

“Lady Lili—the procuress?” Sterling’s stomach churned. The procuress would know how to take care of an unwanted baby, and if Aidan was ‘in a bad way’ …

Accepting this knowledge as a sort of password, the bartender nodded.
“Ja
, though Lili’s not procuring any more, if you take my meaning. But I still let her and the girls live in my spare room, and they still serve food and drink here.”

“Aidan!” Sterling gritted his teeth. “Where is the girl?”

Exasperation flitted across the tavern owner’s features. “I was getting to that.” He frowned as if Sterling had greatly offended him. “Some old fellow took Aidan away, but she’s back, and not at all happy. Lili’s with her now.”

“Where?” Sterling’s grip on the man’s wrist tightened with a force that surprised them both.

“The back room,” the man answered, jerking his chin over his shoulder. “You’ll have to go out the building and through the alley, but that’s where I let the girls sleep—”

Sterling didn’t wait to hear the rest.

“It’s over, Mama.” Aidan lay upon one of the straw-stuffed mattresses. Her hair fell in a tangled tide around her shoulders, and what had once been a fine emerald gown was splotched with mud, tears, and a lifetime of regrets.

“How do you know, lass?” Lili brought the oil lamp closer. The room was empty but for them; the other girls wouldn’t return until nearly sunrise, when the last drunks were swept out of the tavern.

Lili’s face shone like gold in the flickering light, peaceful and smooth with the secrets of wisdom. Aidan wondered how she could ever have thought her mother unattractive. This face was loving, this dingy and foul room the one place she would always be welcomed with no reservations.

Lili had greeted her with tears and embraces, and though there were no strings attached to her welcome, there were questions to be answered. Aidan had spent the afternoon telling her mother about her marriage, her husband, and the coming baby. After hearing the entire story, Lili had promptly shooed the other girls out of the room, then found a basin and towel for Aidan to wash her face and dry her tears. Now in the silence and the lamplight, Aidan thought she might once again find a measure of peace.

“How do I know it’s over?” She took a deep breath and gave her mother a sad smile. “Sterling went to Witt Dekker, and he didn’t come back even after the storm stopped. Dekker swore to destroy me, Mama, and I know he told Sterling everything. He was evil. I waited for three days, and Sterling never came back. I knew he’d have to come to the cabin to fetch his wages once we anchored, so I left the ship before the
Zeehaen
even came into port. I knew he wouldn’t want to see me … and he might not even want the baby.”

Lili blew her nose, then looked at her daughter, her gaze as dark and tender as the sea at sunrise. “He might have a change of heart,” she whispered, reaching out to smooth a wayward curl from Aidan’s forehead. “People can change, you know. You ought to talk to him. I could look around and see if anyone has seen him.”

“No, Mama.” Aidan dropped her lashes quickly to hide the hurt in her eyes. She could never explain that Sterling would be horrified and humiliated by the thought that a procuress was asking for him. He’d be even more humiliated if the word got around that Irish Annie carried his child.

Voices sounded outside the door, a pair of men arguing, and Aidan closed her eyes and wished for sleep. She’d like to sleep for a month at least, and wake again on the sea, where for a while she had been happy and content. She’d left her paintings and sketches aboard the ship, not daring to bring even one sketch from that world to this one. ’Twas bad enough she was forced to return with her memories … and a true tragedy that the babe within her womb would be born in this sordid place and not the paradise where he had been conceived in love.