Moonlight on the Caribbean
Chapter Three
The H.M.S. Dolphin
Belle groaned miserably as the ship continued to roll along the waves. Whoever invented sea travel should be shot. What made it worse was that Chloe and Mimi seemed entirely unaffected by it. Like they had spent their whole lives at sea. Like it was where they were supposed to be. It wasn't fair, especially since Belle was the one who was going to be spending her life with a sailor. How would she ever survive?
Mimi wrung out the cloth and rewet it for her mistress's head. She didn't stop to think of her own weariness after taking care of Belle for the past ten hours since they'd been at sea. She was much more than Belle's maid. She was one of her best friends. And Belle wasn't feeling well. What did her own fatigue matter compared to that? A slight knock on the door sounded, and Lord Black peeked his head in. "How is she doing?" he whispered softly to Mimi.
"Well, she is alive and still has her hearing fully intact," Belle answered scathingly, or as scathingly as she could with her head lolling over a bucket. She wasn't in a mood to be in a good humor with anyone still able to walk upright. "But her insides seem to have melted away to practically nothing."
John frowned, instantly coming to his daughter's side. He stroked the sticky blonde hair away from her sweaty brow. He hadn't seen her this sick since she had gotten scarlet fever as a child. He could still remember the fear of those days, the fear that he might lose yet another child. Marlena and Belle's nursemaids hadn't allowed him to do anything for her then, but he was the only one here for her now. Well, she had Mimi as well. But one look at the face of the other girl showed her exhaustion. Gently, he took the washrag out of her hand. "Go get some rest, Mimi," he instructed softly. "I'll stay with Izzy for a while."
Mimi shot him a look of profound relief. She could entrust Belle to her father's hands. It would be all right to get a few hours sleep now. As soon as she took care of one last thing. Silently, she slipped from the room, pausing momentarily to take in the tender scene as John comforted his ailing daughter. Belle was lucky to have a father like that. Shaking her head fondly, she headed down the corridor in search of the other lady on the voyage.
"When will this go away, Daddy?" Belle complained piteously. She didn't even have anything left inside of her to throw up. All she could do was retch miserable dry heaves every time the ship hit a swell. And this was only the first day. She wouldn't last. There was no way she could possibly last.
John wet her forehead and neck with the cloth, taking gentle care of his most prized possession. "Soon, Izzy, soon," he comforted her. "It will just take you a while to get used to the sea." He frowned. It was probably his fault that this was so hard on her. He had forbidden her from going on so much as a lazy boat ride down the Thames before this. He had been too afraid of losing her. And he would lose her anyway, but in another way.
Through her misery, Belle could sense the tense air her father carried with him. She knew what he was thinking of. She had always known what his moods meant, since she was a small child. Her mother tried to pretend like it didn't happen, like it didn't matter anymore; and Belle had honored her wishes and her father's obvious need for silence about the issue. But deep down, she had always wondered. What was Lord John's first family like? What would her brother have been like if he had lived? Had her father loved Brady more than he loved her?
"Daddy," she said softly, clutching hold of his hand and looking at him with blue eyes dulled by fever, but still bright with affection. "I love you." She didn't know what else to say. She had never known what to say. That was her problem. All the comfort she had to offer him was her unconditional love; but somewhere deep down, she feared that that wasn't enough. Nothing she could do would ever be enough to make up for his loss. Even her name was a reminder of his past. A past none of them would ever be able to escape.
"I love you too, princess," John said, giving her a soft kiss on the forehead. He loved her so much. He didn't know how to tell her. She was the only source of joy in his life. She had always been his reason for living, his strength to go on. And he had to tell her this. Time was running short. He didn't understand how or why he knew, he just did. His days on earth were numbered. He'd been feeling it for weeks now. He didn't regret it. He looked forward to being reunited with his other Isabella and their son. It had been the day he'd been waiting for and praying for, for years. But how to say goodbye to a daughter he loved and cherished?
Belle had never known the words "I love you" could cause so much pain. But the way her father said them made them sound like an unfinished thought. "I love you, but…" But not enough. But you're still not them. But you'll never be good enough. She couldn't let herself focus on that. She had to be the bright, cheerful angel everyone expected her to be. Focus on the positive, she told herself, mentally rerunning her life philosophy. She had a mother who adored her and a fiancé who was crazy about her. Why couldn't that be enough?
Lord Black frowned. Belle had to be incredibly sick to be looking at him like that. She couldn't even manage her usual contagious smile. "Just sleep now, Izzy," he told her in a near whisper. "You'll feel better in the morning."
Belle nodded, but she knew it was a lie. Sleep couldn't cure what really ailed her. She might get past this seasickness, probably would. But nothing would ever take away that look she had seen in her father's eyes. It was a heart wound that would never heal. The truth was, she wasn't good enough.
~~*~~
Mimi scowled when it was Jan who opened the door to Chloe's cabin. She had been praying that Jan wouldn't be there. It would make this so much easier. "Did you have a message or something to deliver?" Jan asked in a low tone so that her mistress wouldn't hear her, even as her eyes shot daggers at Mimi. She knew very well why that nosy Lockhart bitch was here.
"Yes, I do," Mimi replied coldly, meeting Jan's dark, threatening eyes unflinchingly. "And I have to give it to Lady Chloe in person." She tried to dodge around Jan into the small cabin room, but Jan was having none of it. She shifted her weight slightly, effectively blocking Mimi's entrance.
"Lady Wesley is resting now and does not wish to be disturbed," Jan hissed. "Tell me your message, and I will make sure she gets it." It was unimportant of course whether Chloe knew Jan was watching her or not, but her task would be much easier to accomplish if her mistress continued to trust her in any small degree. Mimi's telling tales would only complicate matters unnecessarily.
Mimi crossed her arms. She wasn't about to let Jan Spears beat her, not on something this important. "I think Lady Wesley can speak for herself," she practically yelled, with the clear purpose of making herself heard by Chloe.
She wasn't disappointed. "What's going on here?" Chloe asked as she trudged to the doorway. Her hair was released from its normal intricate style and flowed freely down her back in glistening waves. She had taken off her confining dress and corset and stood with her royal blue dressing gown wrapped around her petticoat. Jan had no choice but to step away from the doorway, revealing the other maid to the lady's view. "Mimi, is everything all right? Is there something wrong with Belle?"
Mimi shook her head. "Lady Isabelle is the same as she's been all day. No better, no worse. But there is something I must tell you." She shot a spiteful glance at Jan. "Alone."
Chloe stared at her in bewilderment. She'd never seen Mimi act so forward before. Usually Belle's maid was content to just sit back in the shadows. Whatever this was, it was important. She nodded, turning to Jan. "Leave us." Jan obediently bowed to her mistress's wishes, though she couldn't resist throwing Mimi one last nasty look over her shoulder as she left. "Now, what's this all about?" Chloe asked, as soon as Jan had left the room.
Mimi came in, shutting the door firmly behind her once she saw Jan disappear around the corner of the passageway. "I'm sorry to disturb you at such a late hour, m'lady; but this is something I felt imperative to tell you." There was a grave dignity in her manner that put her on the same level as the grandest lady in the world, though she would have scoffed at the thought.
Chloe saw it however. She'd never paid much attention to Belle's maid before, but something about her suddenly struck her eye. This was a mere girl, no older than Belle or herself. But she seemed older somehow, as if she had gone through life the hard way and learned a thousand lessons to mature her. And no doubt she had. Chloe felt a sudden and strange feeling of envy. In the sheltered life she had led—and no doubt would continue to lead, if Philip had anything to say about it—nothing had ever come to challenge her, to make her try to be more than she was. It was obvious that Mimi had faced adversity and was stronger because of it. "What is it, Mimi?"
"Lady Wesley, I was above deck for a moment this morning when I spotted you speaking to Lord Black at the rail." Chloe's eyes widened in surprise. The whole thing had been so innocent, an almost fatherly moment. Surely Mimi couldn't think there was something improper about it? Mimi smiled wryly, correctly interpreting Chloe's thoughts. Before the lady could say anything in her own defense, Mimi went on, "I would have thought nothing of it, except for the fact that I suddenly spotted your maid, Jan Spears, lurking in the background, watching you. Spying on you, actually. It can be called no less. When I confronted her about it, she treated me with disdain and your ladyship with the utmost disrespect."
Chloe felt fury rising within her. She had never liked Jan from the moment she arrived in the mansion. She had long suspected that her main purpose in being there wasn't to serve Chloe but to serve Philip, to keep an eye on his bride—his possession, Chloe couldn't help but thinking—and make sure she arrived in Jamaica still pure as the driven snow. "And what did she make of the scene?" she asked darkly, her sapphire eyes flashing fire.
Mimi shook her head, almost embarrassed to voice such awful accusations. "She insisted on putting the worst face on it, my lady; but I don't believe even she truly believes her words. She wants to cause trouble for you. I'm not telling you this to get Jan in trouble, only to warn you to be on your guard around her. She has an evil mind and a wicked heart. She would like nothing better than to find a way to hurt you or disgrace you."
"But why?" Chloe asked, failing to understand. She'd never done anything to Jan. Had Jan merely picked up on the underlying resentment she felt towards her? Had she unwittingly said something derogatory of Philip in Jan's presence? She had her enemies at home, people who didn't like her, people she didn't care for. But always there was a reason. She honestly couldn't think of a reason why Jan would hate her so.
Mimi bit her lip, unwilling to share the full weight of her suspicions with Lady Chloe. Chloe, despite the spirit within her that yearned for adventure, was still very much a child. Mimi didn't want to be the one to make Chloe face the harsh realities of life. She'd be forced to face them soon enough. "I don't know, my lady," she lied. "Perhaps she resents her position of servitude. I don't know. All I know is that you would be wise to keep yourself free from even the hint of impropriety around Jan. I don't trust her. And neither should you."
~~*~~
The Titan Sugarcane Plantation, Jamaica
"Would you mind explaining to me, Commander Brady, just what the hell you and Alamain were trying to pull here today?" Philip demanded, his blue-gray eyes as cold as ice as he stared across his desk towards the naval officer standing at attention. Now, of course, he was showing nothing but military diffidence; but that hadn't been the case at the meeting earlier today.
Shawn kept his expression carefully blank. He couldn't allow his personal disgust with the man in front of him become apparent. Philip Kiriakis was a powerful man on this island, which might help explain why he thought that the navy was here solely for his personal benefit. And ever since he had been escorted to England on a diplomatic errand by Shawn's boat, he seemed to consider Shawn yet another one of his lackeys. "Respectfully, sir," Shawn replied calmly, relying on his years of military training. "The planters asked for my opinion and I gave it. The fact that it happened to coincide with the opinions of a man you dislike is not my affair."
"You left with him," Philip argued, his tone at once petulant and disdainful. "You disrupted my meeting. It was a disgraceful display for a member of His Majesty's Navy, and I intend to make sure that King Charles himself hears of it."
Shawn managed to bite back his laughter. He doubted very much whether King Charles would care that he had offended the pride of some common planter in the West Indies. "Again I respectfully disagree, sir. Your fight was with Victor Alamain. Along with everyone else, I was merely a spectator to that. I left with him because he is a friend, and I could see the meeting was going nowhere. Not to mention, I noticed you didn't particularly care for my opinions. I doubt you would have been better served if I had stayed."
Philip eyed him coolly. "I simply find it incomprehensible that a man such as yourself, an honorable man with a military background, would stand in support of those pirates. There's no reason in the world why we need them polluting our waters and our shores. We're in no danger here."
"You think the Spanish don't pose a threat?" Shawn asked incredulously. "If the Spanish decided to attack this or any other British colony in the West Indies, only the buccaneers would stand between them and easy conquest. The royal navy's presence in the Caribbean is virtually non- existent."
"We're not at war with Spain, damn it." Philip brought his fist down harshly on the table, causing ink to splatter on the expensive wood. "The Spanish aren't going to invade Jamaica. They're content with their own presence on the Main. It's the pirates who stir up all the trouble, attacking Spanish ships, looting, pillaging, murdering. Why won't anyone denounce them as the common criminals they are?" Philip was so angry he was practically foaming at the mouth.
Shawn kept his own anger and frustration carefully under control. He would never make Philip understand. Philip, in his beautiful mansion, with all his money and his fine clothes, and his life of privilege. But Shawn had seen what the guarda costa was capable of. He had seen the Dutch colonies after Spanish raids. He had seen the faces of the Peruvian children blackened from working all day in the silver mines. Philip was right. Britain wasn't at war with Spain. Britain was turning its back while these atrocities were being committed. But Spain was at war with the world, with everything good and pure and right. In the name of God and the church, they were slaughtering the innocent. No, Shawn couldn't condemn the buccaneers. If he had his way, he'd be fighting right alongside them.
But he doubted Philip would appreciate his reasoning. He didn't have the ears to hear such words. "All the same, it's better to take precautions, just in case," he drawled instead. "The majority of the people feel safer knowing the buccaneers are here, and I doubt that will change anytime soon."
Philip exhaled loudly, frustrated because he knew Shawn was right. There was nothing to be done about the problem of buccaneers at present. "But the pirates," he protested, trying a different tactic. "Not the buccaneers, the out and out pirates, who sail under no flag but the infamous skull and crossbones. Surely, we can do something about them. This Captain Blackheart, or whatever his name is, you will admit that he deserves to hang along with all his cutthroat crew."
Shawn's expression was doubly veiled. He had been keeping Brady's secret for too long now to let a fool like Kiriakis pry it out of him. "Of course, sir. We are doing all we can in the pursuit and capture of infamous pirates such as the man you spoke of. The problem is that such men rarely take shelter in Jamaica. They hide instead on the French island of Tortuga where we have no authority, and we all know how corrupt the government there is."
Philip grimaced. "Why can't you just take him at sea?" he demanded. "That's where he does his damage anyway."
"His Majesty's Navy isn't in the business of sending its fleets out in pursuit of common criminals," Shawn recited in clipped tones. "If we find pirate vessels in our patrols, they will naturally be brought back to Port Royal where the crews will face trial and execution. But these men aren't stupid enough to cross paths with us. There's a reason these boats are able to rob great Spanish galleons. They're small and they're fast and they're easy to maneuver. They can hide in almost any cove, and we'd never find them. These men know the waters better than anyone."
"Forgive me if I sound rude, but you seem damn lazy to me, Commander," Philip spat out. "Excuses, excuses. Now is the time for action! Mark my words, if we don't put an end to this menace, the time will come when not even British ships will be safe from these murdering thieves."
~~*~~
The Alamain Plantation, Jamaica
Jason laughed uproariously as Brady recounted his confrontation with Philip Kiriakis. He even did a worthy impression of the unworthy gentleman. Suddenly, he sobered, remembering Lucas's words. "Brady, I'd be careful around Kiriakis from now on. He may be irrational, but he's not a complete fool. And he's powerful. You don't want to give him reason to take a closer look at you and your past."
Brady brushed his friend's concern aside. "Don't worry, Jase. I'm not going to do anything stupid, but I'm not going to let that imbecile go unchallenged either. Kiriakis is an annoyance, an arrogant fop who thinks he's something more than he really is. He deserves to be put in his place every once in a while."
Jason shook his head, knowing that further argument was futile. Brady knew a thing or two about arrogance himself, and it was going to get him in trouble someday. Jase just hoped he would be around to help him out before it was the end of him. "He hates you, you know," he commented, hoping to make Brady see reason.
"Who doesn't?" Brady retorted, grinning devilishly, before putting down his bottle of rum and leaning in towards Jason. "Let's forget about Philip. Tell me, what did Lucas have to say? Any good marks at sea right now?"
Jason rattled off all the galleons who would be heading back to Madrid within the next few weeks loaded with silver and jewels and—more importantly—fat Spanish dignitaries just waiting to meet the tip of Jason and Brady's rapiers. "Oh, one more thing," Jason added, when he finished. "Lucas mentioned something. There's a British ambassador coming across to see about planning an attack on the Spanish Main." He knew how the news would affect Brady. It was what Brady had been waiting for, for months now.
Brady froze, feeling again that tight twisting of his gut. He had been determined to put all thoughts of his father out of his head. None of it made sense, and he wasn't willing to confront it yet. But here Jason was, mentioning him without even realizing the connection. "I know," Brady said shortly, in an attempt to steer the conversation away from this particular vein. "Shawn told me."
Jason studied his captain carefully. Something was wrong. He looked tense and upset. He must have heard the rest of it. But how? Shawn wouldn't know such a thing. "Did Shawn tell you what the Spanish have done about it?" he asked casually.
An alert look came into Brady's already sharp, intelligent face. "No. What is it, Jase? What's going to happen?" He could feel that tight feeling swelling inside him into dread.
Jason shrugged. "They've ordered that he isn't to reach Port Royal alive. I'm sure every Spanish galleon in the Caribbean is making a beeline for that ship as we speak. No doubt they'll be personally commended by King Phillip himself for being the first to take the ship." He laughed bitterly. "It seems we pirates are about to get a lesson in our own tactics."
Brady's mind whirled in a million inconsequential different little directions, all working towards one particular goal. A few minutes passed with Jason watching him with patient curiosity. He was used to his friend's sudden mood changes. And this was exactly the kind of thing that most depressed him. The Spanish taking innocent lives while Brady and Jason could only sit back and wait, simmering in anger until their chance at revenge.
Suddenly, Brady jumped from his seat and stomped over to his sea chest, throwing things in randomly. "Come on, Jase. We're heading back to Tortuga at first light. If The Vengeance can't outrun some blasted Spanish giants, then she's not worthy of the sea."
Jason stared at Brady, open-mouthed in shock. "What are you talking about? What are you planning to do? Because I know you're not planning to take a British ship, Brady. I know you're not. Please tell me you're not. They'll hang us all for that. We fight the Spanish, remember?" Brady had come up with some crazy ideas in the past, but this one was just beyond insane. It was suicide.
Brady turned back towards his friend, his jaw set, his stance and expression grimly determined. "We are fighting the Spanish. We're going to beat them at their own game. We're going to take the Dolphin before they have the chance."
"The Dolphin?" Jason repeated blankly, before processing that Shawn must have told Brady the name of the ship. "But…but Brady, what good will that do? How will we take it? There's no crew of buccaneers or pirates alive who would kill fellow Protestants, Englishmen at that. How the hell do you expect to take the ship?"
Brady shrugged his shoulders. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he answered confidently. "But I promise, we won't take a single English life. We'll commandeer the ship, take the ambassador off it, and send it on its merry way."
Jason could only gape at him in disbelief. Brady was headstrong always, arrogant often, but never foolish. He never made a move without taking time to consider every possible repercussion. What was happening to him? "This is a death mission," he stated bleakly.
"I won't make you come, my friend," Brady said, with surprising gentleness to his voice. "This is something I have to do, but if you don't want to, you can stay here. There's enough money—"
"Would you shut up?" Jason interrupted him harshly. "You know damn well you can't pull this off without me. I think you're a complete ass for even trying this….But I also think it may be our one chance to do something honorable. Of course I'm coming with you. But you can't just go running off without stopping to concoct a plan first. There are women aboard that ship. Do you know that? The ambassador's daughter is coming across to be married."
Brady paled. He had almost forgotten about that. A girl he'd never heard of before today, and yet she was his sister. "Not a hair on her head will be harmed," he vowed, already feeling protective of the girl whoever she might be. "I'll make sure of it."
"She's not the only one," Jason continued. "There's another girl too. And you're just going to love this. She's Philip Kiriakis' bride." He watched Brady's face with grim bemusement.
For the first time since Jason had told him about the Spanish plot, Brady smiled. "Well, looks like Kiriakis is going to be in my debt, Jase. After all, how can he go on hating a man who saves the life of the woman he's going to marry?"
Jason didn't like the look on Brady's face or the tone of his voice. He had a feeling this whole mission was going to be more trouble than it was worth.
Chapter Three
The H.M.S. Dolphin
Belle groaned miserably as the ship continued to roll along the waves. Whoever invented sea travel should be shot. What made it worse was that Chloe and Mimi seemed entirely unaffected by it. Like they had spent their whole lives at sea. Like it was where they were supposed to be. It wasn't fair, especially since Belle was the one who was going to be spending her life with a sailor. How would she ever survive?
Mimi wrung out the cloth and rewet it for her mistress's head. She didn't stop to think of her own weariness after taking care of Belle for the past ten hours since they'd been at sea. She was much more than Belle's maid. She was one of her best friends. And Belle wasn't feeling well. What did her own fatigue matter compared to that? A slight knock on the door sounded, and Lord Black peeked his head in. "How is she doing?" he whispered softly to Mimi.
"Well, she is alive and still has her hearing fully intact," Belle answered scathingly, or as scathingly as she could with her head lolling over a bucket. She wasn't in a mood to be in a good humor with anyone still able to walk upright. "But her insides seem to have melted away to practically nothing."
John frowned, instantly coming to his daughter's side. He stroked the sticky blonde hair away from her sweaty brow. He hadn't seen her this sick since she had gotten scarlet fever as a child. He could still remember the fear of those days, the fear that he might lose yet another child. Marlena and Belle's nursemaids hadn't allowed him to do anything for her then, but he was the only one here for her now. Well, she had Mimi as well. But one look at the face of the other girl showed her exhaustion. Gently, he took the washrag out of her hand. "Go get some rest, Mimi," he instructed softly. "I'll stay with Izzy for a while."
Mimi shot him a look of profound relief. She could entrust Belle to her father's hands. It would be all right to get a few hours sleep now. As soon as she took care of one last thing. Silently, she slipped from the room, pausing momentarily to take in the tender scene as John comforted his ailing daughter. Belle was lucky to have a father like that. Shaking her head fondly, she headed down the corridor in search of the other lady on the voyage.
"When will this go away, Daddy?" Belle complained piteously. She didn't even have anything left inside of her to throw up. All she could do was retch miserable dry heaves every time the ship hit a swell. And this was only the first day. She wouldn't last. There was no way she could possibly last.
John wet her forehead and neck with the cloth, taking gentle care of his most prized possession. "Soon, Izzy, soon," he comforted her. "It will just take you a while to get used to the sea." He frowned. It was probably his fault that this was so hard on her. He had forbidden her from going on so much as a lazy boat ride down the Thames before this. He had been too afraid of losing her. And he would lose her anyway, but in another way.
Through her misery, Belle could sense the tense air her father carried with him. She knew what he was thinking of. She had always known what his moods meant, since she was a small child. Her mother tried to pretend like it didn't happen, like it didn't matter anymore; and Belle had honored her wishes and her father's obvious need for silence about the issue. But deep down, she had always wondered. What was Lord John's first family like? What would her brother have been like if he had lived? Had her father loved Brady more than he loved her?
"Daddy," she said softly, clutching hold of his hand and looking at him with blue eyes dulled by fever, but still bright with affection. "I love you." She didn't know what else to say. She had never known what to say. That was her problem. All the comfort she had to offer him was her unconditional love; but somewhere deep down, she feared that that wasn't enough. Nothing she could do would ever be enough to make up for his loss. Even her name was a reminder of his past. A past none of them would ever be able to escape.
"I love you too, princess," John said, giving her a soft kiss on the forehead. He loved her so much. He didn't know how to tell her. She was the only source of joy in his life. She had always been his reason for living, his strength to go on. And he had to tell her this. Time was running short. He didn't understand how or why he knew, he just did. His days on earth were numbered. He'd been feeling it for weeks now. He didn't regret it. He looked forward to being reunited with his other Isabella and their son. It had been the day he'd been waiting for and praying for, for years. But how to say goodbye to a daughter he loved and cherished?
Belle had never known the words "I love you" could cause so much pain. But the way her father said them made them sound like an unfinished thought. "I love you, but…" But not enough. But you're still not them. But you'll never be good enough. She couldn't let herself focus on that. She had to be the bright, cheerful angel everyone expected her to be. Focus on the positive, she told herself, mentally rerunning her life philosophy. She had a mother who adored her and a fiancé who was crazy about her. Why couldn't that be enough?
Lord Black frowned. Belle had to be incredibly sick to be looking at him like that. She couldn't even manage her usual contagious smile. "Just sleep now, Izzy," he told her in a near whisper. "You'll feel better in the morning."
Belle nodded, but she knew it was a lie. Sleep couldn't cure what really ailed her. She might get past this seasickness, probably would. But nothing would ever take away that look she had seen in her father's eyes. It was a heart wound that would never heal. The truth was, she wasn't good enough.
~~*~~
Mimi scowled when it was Jan who opened the door to Chloe's cabin. She had been praying that Jan wouldn't be there. It would make this so much easier. "Did you have a message or something to deliver?" Jan asked in a low tone so that her mistress wouldn't hear her, even as her eyes shot daggers at Mimi. She knew very well why that nosy Lockhart bitch was here.
"Yes, I do," Mimi replied coldly, meeting Jan's dark, threatening eyes unflinchingly. "And I have to give it to Lady Chloe in person." She tried to dodge around Jan into the small cabin room, but Jan was having none of it. She shifted her weight slightly, effectively blocking Mimi's entrance.
"Lady Wesley is resting now and does not wish to be disturbed," Jan hissed. "Tell me your message, and I will make sure she gets it." It was unimportant of course whether Chloe knew Jan was watching her or not, but her task would be much easier to accomplish if her mistress continued to trust her in any small degree. Mimi's telling tales would only complicate matters unnecessarily.
Mimi crossed her arms. She wasn't about to let Jan Spears beat her, not on something this important. "I think Lady Wesley can speak for herself," she practically yelled, with the clear purpose of making herself heard by Chloe.
She wasn't disappointed. "What's going on here?" Chloe asked as she trudged to the doorway. Her hair was released from its normal intricate style and flowed freely down her back in glistening waves. She had taken off her confining dress and corset and stood with her royal blue dressing gown wrapped around her petticoat. Jan had no choice but to step away from the doorway, revealing the other maid to the lady's view. "Mimi, is everything all right? Is there something wrong with Belle?"
Mimi shook her head. "Lady Isabelle is the same as she's been all day. No better, no worse. But there is something I must tell you." She shot a spiteful glance at Jan. "Alone."
Chloe stared at her in bewilderment. She'd never seen Mimi act so forward before. Usually Belle's maid was content to just sit back in the shadows. Whatever this was, it was important. She nodded, turning to Jan. "Leave us." Jan obediently bowed to her mistress's wishes, though she couldn't resist throwing Mimi one last nasty look over her shoulder as she left. "Now, what's this all about?" Chloe asked, as soon as Jan had left the room.
Mimi came in, shutting the door firmly behind her once she saw Jan disappear around the corner of the passageway. "I'm sorry to disturb you at such a late hour, m'lady; but this is something I felt imperative to tell you." There was a grave dignity in her manner that put her on the same level as the grandest lady in the world, though she would have scoffed at the thought.
Chloe saw it however. She'd never paid much attention to Belle's maid before, but something about her suddenly struck her eye. This was a mere girl, no older than Belle or herself. But she seemed older somehow, as if she had gone through life the hard way and learned a thousand lessons to mature her. And no doubt she had. Chloe felt a sudden and strange feeling of envy. In the sheltered life she had led—and no doubt would continue to lead, if Philip had anything to say about it—nothing had ever come to challenge her, to make her try to be more than she was. It was obvious that Mimi had faced adversity and was stronger because of it. "What is it, Mimi?"
"Lady Wesley, I was above deck for a moment this morning when I spotted you speaking to Lord Black at the rail." Chloe's eyes widened in surprise. The whole thing had been so innocent, an almost fatherly moment. Surely Mimi couldn't think there was something improper about it? Mimi smiled wryly, correctly interpreting Chloe's thoughts. Before the lady could say anything in her own defense, Mimi went on, "I would have thought nothing of it, except for the fact that I suddenly spotted your maid, Jan Spears, lurking in the background, watching you. Spying on you, actually. It can be called no less. When I confronted her about it, she treated me with disdain and your ladyship with the utmost disrespect."
Chloe felt fury rising within her. She had never liked Jan from the moment she arrived in the mansion. She had long suspected that her main purpose in being there wasn't to serve Chloe but to serve Philip, to keep an eye on his bride—his possession, Chloe couldn't help but thinking—and make sure she arrived in Jamaica still pure as the driven snow. "And what did she make of the scene?" she asked darkly, her sapphire eyes flashing fire.
Mimi shook her head, almost embarrassed to voice such awful accusations. "She insisted on putting the worst face on it, my lady; but I don't believe even she truly believes her words. She wants to cause trouble for you. I'm not telling you this to get Jan in trouble, only to warn you to be on your guard around her. She has an evil mind and a wicked heart. She would like nothing better than to find a way to hurt you or disgrace you."
"But why?" Chloe asked, failing to understand. She'd never done anything to Jan. Had Jan merely picked up on the underlying resentment she felt towards her? Had she unwittingly said something derogatory of Philip in Jan's presence? She had her enemies at home, people who didn't like her, people she didn't care for. But always there was a reason. She honestly couldn't think of a reason why Jan would hate her so.
Mimi bit her lip, unwilling to share the full weight of her suspicions with Lady Chloe. Chloe, despite the spirit within her that yearned for adventure, was still very much a child. Mimi didn't want to be the one to make Chloe face the harsh realities of life. She'd be forced to face them soon enough. "I don't know, my lady," she lied. "Perhaps she resents her position of servitude. I don't know. All I know is that you would be wise to keep yourself free from even the hint of impropriety around Jan. I don't trust her. And neither should you."
~~*~~
The Titan Sugarcane Plantation, Jamaica
"Would you mind explaining to me, Commander Brady, just what the hell you and Alamain were trying to pull here today?" Philip demanded, his blue-gray eyes as cold as ice as he stared across his desk towards the naval officer standing at attention. Now, of course, he was showing nothing but military diffidence; but that hadn't been the case at the meeting earlier today.
Shawn kept his expression carefully blank. He couldn't allow his personal disgust with the man in front of him become apparent. Philip Kiriakis was a powerful man on this island, which might help explain why he thought that the navy was here solely for his personal benefit. And ever since he had been escorted to England on a diplomatic errand by Shawn's boat, he seemed to consider Shawn yet another one of his lackeys. "Respectfully, sir," Shawn replied calmly, relying on his years of military training. "The planters asked for my opinion and I gave it. The fact that it happened to coincide with the opinions of a man you dislike is not my affair."
"You left with him," Philip argued, his tone at once petulant and disdainful. "You disrupted my meeting. It was a disgraceful display for a member of His Majesty's Navy, and I intend to make sure that King Charles himself hears of it."
Shawn managed to bite back his laughter. He doubted very much whether King Charles would care that he had offended the pride of some common planter in the West Indies. "Again I respectfully disagree, sir. Your fight was with Victor Alamain. Along with everyone else, I was merely a spectator to that. I left with him because he is a friend, and I could see the meeting was going nowhere. Not to mention, I noticed you didn't particularly care for my opinions. I doubt you would have been better served if I had stayed."
Philip eyed him coolly. "I simply find it incomprehensible that a man such as yourself, an honorable man with a military background, would stand in support of those pirates. There's no reason in the world why we need them polluting our waters and our shores. We're in no danger here."
"You think the Spanish don't pose a threat?" Shawn asked incredulously. "If the Spanish decided to attack this or any other British colony in the West Indies, only the buccaneers would stand between them and easy conquest. The royal navy's presence in the Caribbean is virtually non- existent."
"We're not at war with Spain, damn it." Philip brought his fist down harshly on the table, causing ink to splatter on the expensive wood. "The Spanish aren't going to invade Jamaica. They're content with their own presence on the Main. It's the pirates who stir up all the trouble, attacking Spanish ships, looting, pillaging, murdering. Why won't anyone denounce them as the common criminals they are?" Philip was so angry he was practically foaming at the mouth.
Shawn kept his own anger and frustration carefully under control. He would never make Philip understand. Philip, in his beautiful mansion, with all his money and his fine clothes, and his life of privilege. But Shawn had seen what the guarda costa was capable of. He had seen the Dutch colonies after Spanish raids. He had seen the faces of the Peruvian children blackened from working all day in the silver mines. Philip was right. Britain wasn't at war with Spain. Britain was turning its back while these atrocities were being committed. But Spain was at war with the world, with everything good and pure and right. In the name of God and the church, they were slaughtering the innocent. No, Shawn couldn't condemn the buccaneers. If he had his way, he'd be fighting right alongside them.
But he doubted Philip would appreciate his reasoning. He didn't have the ears to hear such words. "All the same, it's better to take precautions, just in case," he drawled instead. "The majority of the people feel safer knowing the buccaneers are here, and I doubt that will change anytime soon."
Philip exhaled loudly, frustrated because he knew Shawn was right. There was nothing to be done about the problem of buccaneers at present. "But the pirates," he protested, trying a different tactic. "Not the buccaneers, the out and out pirates, who sail under no flag but the infamous skull and crossbones. Surely, we can do something about them. This Captain Blackheart, or whatever his name is, you will admit that he deserves to hang along with all his cutthroat crew."
Shawn's expression was doubly veiled. He had been keeping Brady's secret for too long now to let a fool like Kiriakis pry it out of him. "Of course, sir. We are doing all we can in the pursuit and capture of infamous pirates such as the man you spoke of. The problem is that such men rarely take shelter in Jamaica. They hide instead on the French island of Tortuga where we have no authority, and we all know how corrupt the government there is."
Philip grimaced. "Why can't you just take him at sea?" he demanded. "That's where he does his damage anyway."
"His Majesty's Navy isn't in the business of sending its fleets out in pursuit of common criminals," Shawn recited in clipped tones. "If we find pirate vessels in our patrols, they will naturally be brought back to Port Royal where the crews will face trial and execution. But these men aren't stupid enough to cross paths with us. There's a reason these boats are able to rob great Spanish galleons. They're small and they're fast and they're easy to maneuver. They can hide in almost any cove, and we'd never find them. These men know the waters better than anyone."
"Forgive me if I sound rude, but you seem damn lazy to me, Commander," Philip spat out. "Excuses, excuses. Now is the time for action! Mark my words, if we don't put an end to this menace, the time will come when not even British ships will be safe from these murdering thieves."
~~*~~
The Alamain Plantation, Jamaica
Jason laughed uproariously as Brady recounted his confrontation with Philip Kiriakis. He even did a worthy impression of the unworthy gentleman. Suddenly, he sobered, remembering Lucas's words. "Brady, I'd be careful around Kiriakis from now on. He may be irrational, but he's not a complete fool. And he's powerful. You don't want to give him reason to take a closer look at you and your past."
Brady brushed his friend's concern aside. "Don't worry, Jase. I'm not going to do anything stupid, but I'm not going to let that imbecile go unchallenged either. Kiriakis is an annoyance, an arrogant fop who thinks he's something more than he really is. He deserves to be put in his place every once in a while."
Jason shook his head, knowing that further argument was futile. Brady knew a thing or two about arrogance himself, and it was going to get him in trouble someday. Jase just hoped he would be around to help him out before it was the end of him. "He hates you, you know," he commented, hoping to make Brady see reason.
"Who doesn't?" Brady retorted, grinning devilishly, before putting down his bottle of rum and leaning in towards Jason. "Let's forget about Philip. Tell me, what did Lucas have to say? Any good marks at sea right now?"
Jason rattled off all the galleons who would be heading back to Madrid within the next few weeks loaded with silver and jewels and—more importantly—fat Spanish dignitaries just waiting to meet the tip of Jason and Brady's rapiers. "Oh, one more thing," Jason added, when he finished. "Lucas mentioned something. There's a British ambassador coming across to see about planning an attack on the Spanish Main." He knew how the news would affect Brady. It was what Brady had been waiting for, for months now.
Brady froze, feeling again that tight twisting of his gut. He had been determined to put all thoughts of his father out of his head. None of it made sense, and he wasn't willing to confront it yet. But here Jason was, mentioning him without even realizing the connection. "I know," Brady said shortly, in an attempt to steer the conversation away from this particular vein. "Shawn told me."
Jason studied his captain carefully. Something was wrong. He looked tense and upset. He must have heard the rest of it. But how? Shawn wouldn't know such a thing. "Did Shawn tell you what the Spanish have done about it?" he asked casually.
An alert look came into Brady's already sharp, intelligent face. "No. What is it, Jase? What's going to happen?" He could feel that tight feeling swelling inside him into dread.
Jason shrugged. "They've ordered that he isn't to reach Port Royal alive. I'm sure every Spanish galleon in the Caribbean is making a beeline for that ship as we speak. No doubt they'll be personally commended by King Phillip himself for being the first to take the ship." He laughed bitterly. "It seems we pirates are about to get a lesson in our own tactics."
Brady's mind whirled in a million inconsequential different little directions, all working towards one particular goal. A few minutes passed with Jason watching him with patient curiosity. He was used to his friend's sudden mood changes. And this was exactly the kind of thing that most depressed him. The Spanish taking innocent lives while Brady and Jason could only sit back and wait, simmering in anger until their chance at revenge.
Suddenly, Brady jumped from his seat and stomped over to his sea chest, throwing things in randomly. "Come on, Jase. We're heading back to Tortuga at first light. If The Vengeance can't outrun some blasted Spanish giants, then she's not worthy of the sea."
Jason stared at Brady, open-mouthed in shock. "What are you talking about? What are you planning to do? Because I know you're not planning to take a British ship, Brady. I know you're not. Please tell me you're not. They'll hang us all for that. We fight the Spanish, remember?" Brady had come up with some crazy ideas in the past, but this one was just beyond insane. It was suicide.
Brady turned back towards his friend, his jaw set, his stance and expression grimly determined. "We are fighting the Spanish. We're going to beat them at their own game. We're going to take the Dolphin before they have the chance."
"The Dolphin?" Jason repeated blankly, before processing that Shawn must have told Brady the name of the ship. "But…but Brady, what good will that do? How will we take it? There's no crew of buccaneers or pirates alive who would kill fellow Protestants, Englishmen at that. How the hell do you expect to take the ship?"
Brady shrugged his shoulders. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he answered confidently. "But I promise, we won't take a single English life. We'll commandeer the ship, take the ambassador off it, and send it on its merry way."
Jason could only gape at him in disbelief. Brady was headstrong always, arrogant often, but never foolish. He never made a move without taking time to consider every possible repercussion. What was happening to him? "This is a death mission," he stated bleakly.
"I won't make you come, my friend," Brady said, with surprising gentleness to his voice. "This is something I have to do, but if you don't want to, you can stay here. There's enough money—"
"Would you shut up?" Jason interrupted him harshly. "You know damn well you can't pull this off without me. I think you're a complete ass for even trying this….But I also think it may be our one chance to do something honorable. Of course I'm coming with you. But you can't just go running off without stopping to concoct a plan first. There are women aboard that ship. Do you know that? The ambassador's daughter is coming across to be married."
Brady paled. He had almost forgotten about that. A girl he'd never heard of before today, and yet she was his sister. "Not a hair on her head will be harmed," he vowed, already feeling protective of the girl whoever she might be. "I'll make sure of it."
"She's not the only one," Jason continued. "There's another girl too. And you're just going to love this. She's Philip Kiriakis' bride." He watched Brady's face with grim bemusement.
For the first time since Jason had told him about the Spanish plot, Brady smiled. "Well, looks like Kiriakis is going to be in my debt, Jase. After all, how can he go on hating a man who saves the life of the woman he's going to marry?"
Jason didn't like the look on Brady's face or the tone of his voice. He had a feeling this whole mission was going to be more trouble than it was worth.
