Chapter Fifty

A Fresh Voyage

Claymore turned the documents back to face him and leaned closer to frown at his cousin's signature as he sanded it and shook off the excess grains onto the floor. "There will be a late addition to your cargo waiting for you when you dock in Marseilles," he said then, trying to sound casual. "And you'll also need to make your best cabin available for a paying passenger who will embark there. It's all been arranged."

He glanced up over the wire rims of his spectacles as if the addition was of no consequence to him. "No questions are to be asked of this man. He has paid very handsomely in advance for your complete silence and discretion. I… it's a matter of national security."

"Ah, I see now what your game has been these last few months, Cousin…" Daniel sat back in his chair. "You sought to present yourself as a reformed character. And now you have a desire to dabble in some foreign politics for your own gain. Be careful you do not end up with singed fingers."

He frowned. "And where am I to transport this unknown passenger who has paid handsomely for my silence?"

"Tunis…" Claymore replied shortly with a shrug. "He'll go ashore there, and you will forget you ever saw or had dealings with the man. You will unload his cargo and then sail on to Egypt as if nothing had happened."

He looked briefly uncomfortable. "There will be a hefty bonus if you get him to port ahead of time." His lips thinned with displeasure as his gaze turned to the closed door of his living quarters at the back of the office.

"I see…" Daniel grimaced. "I think you may find the Bey will have something crusty to say about my importing French spies into his kingdom without his permission."

Claymore huffed a sigh as he picked up his feather quill to run the pen through his fingers. "Your passenger will be discreet, and he is there to gather information only. Anything more is none of our business. I have made that quite clear." Again, his eyes drifted to the closed door behind them.

"Ah, but you have just made it my business," Daniel replied evenly. "The French have been snooping around Tunisia for years. They seek a better foothold in the dark continent, and you are handing it to them on a silver platter. You forget that the Bey is a personal friend of mine."

"I cannot help that." Claymore grimaced as he waved a dismissive hand. "I am a merchant. I have been paid well for the hire of your ships. A commission is a commission. Sometimes we must do things we may not like."

He made haste to fold the documents before pushing them out of sight into a drawer. He locked it before pocketing the key. "You quibble at nothing, Cousin. Your share of the profits will be more than generous. I've made sure of that on your behalf."

He looked briefly smug. "I think you will find that the admiral will be very pleased with the soundness of his investment in your company. The sooner the debt is paid, the sooner you may make all your own decisions."

He sighed, glancing again at the closed door. "Then you may sail where and with whom you please. I cannot say fairer than that, Cousin."

"And here is all of us thinking that you are a changed man," Daniel accused with a stabbing forefinger. "These new dealings smack of the old Claymore. Anything for money and the devil take the hindmost."

"You are such a doubting Thomas, aren't you?" Claymore complained with a discontented frown. "You wound me deeply. I tell you I am quite reformed."

He laid the palm of one hand flat over his heart. "You may ask anyone who knows me. I have been very busy clothing and rehousing the orphans under my care. You will find no one in town who will say a bad word against me now. And I will be re-elected as the grateful town's president because no one will stand against me. I am a paragon of all virtue."

He sighed. "I seek only to advance the family fortunes and make us both wealthy men. I see no harm in that. No one will be hurt by this action of ours. "I told you all, I am now a decent man."

"I doubt that." Daniel stood up and pulled his sea cap onto his head. "This one time, I will indulge your fantasy and your schemes because you have made a commitment and traded on it in my good name."

He leaned closer over the desktop. "But do not come calling again with such nonsense. If you get caught with your hand jammed in the jar of foreign policy, I will not lift a finger to save you." He walked away from the desk.

"Fair enough." Claymore nodded, his brow clearing with relief. "As I said before, any profits you may make from other cargoes you transport will be all yours. You may find the Bey is in a very generous mood and prepared to fill your holds with treasure once more. There would be emeralds and diamonds…" His tight expression deepened with envy and avarice.

Daniel shook his head. "Any business I may conduct with the Bey will be mine alone."

"Fair enough…" Claymore sighed as he leaned back in his chair.

He watched his cousin as he left the office, closing the door behind him with a snap. "You can come out now," he said, turning toward the inner door to his living quarters. "He's gone."

The door opened slowly, and Countess Beauvoir walked out, drawing on her gloves. "You did very well," she said in a satisfied tone. "I thought he would have been a harder nut to crack than that. Yours is a golden tongue."

A few days ago, the woman had been driven up from Boston in her elegant carriage. After lodging herself at the Schooner Bay Inn, the countess had appeared in Claymore's office like a very unwelcome memory. She'd soured his already nervous stomach to the point of dyspepsia.

"I only appealed to his pride and his good name," he admitted heavily, rubbing a hand over his disturbed abdomen. "But this single endeavour must be the beginning and end of our relationship. Cousin Daniel will not be fooled a second time and I do not have the stomach for espionage. Our debt is settled in full."

"He will serve his purpose." Vanessa shrugged. "My French masters will be very pleased with my progress."

Claymore scowled. "As will you be with the profits you will make. I wish you well with them. You may feel free to return to Boston."

"A woman on her own must fend for herself," the countess replied as she tied her very fashionable bonnet over her black curls. "And a widow in business on her own account is doubly damned in the eyes of a critical society. I am often told I must have a man to oversee my books and person."

Her lips twisted. "But money speaks all languages, and anyone can be forgiven their transgressions if they possess a sufficiently large bank account. And I intend my accounts to become very fat indeed."

She smoothed down the folds of her blue satin overdress and patted her curls into place on her white shoulders. "I shall bid you a fair good day, Mr Gregg. It would not be wise for us to be seen together in public." She held out one hand toward him.

Claymore rose from behind his desk and tucked his hands into the small of his back. "Goodbye, Countess. I cannot say it has been a pleasure doing business with you once more. It was not by my choice and our paths will not cross again. I am done with you and your masters. This business is not to my taste. You will leave town today. I do not wish to see or hear from you again. Is that clear?"

Vanessa laughed. "Ah, such a temper over some tiny trifles. But you did find that some past indiscretions do not always stay in the past where they rightly belong." She pursed her lips sweetly. "But I'm sure counting your gains will keep you warm at night."

She lifted a denying shoulder. "As for me, I go where and when I please. No man may gainsay my enjoyment of my pleasures. Not anymore. I may stay in town for a while. I have some other pressing business I must conduct."

She waved her fingers dismissively as she walked toward the outer door. She opened it a crack to look out before quickly exiting and closing it behind her.

"Blast!" Claymore sat down heavily and reached for the whisky decanter behind him. His sense of ill-usage deepened. "I detest all women!" He paused, frowning. "Well, all but one or two. If only Carolyn had been in my employ, back then…"

Five years ago, he'd rashly taken the foolish decision of making the arduous trip to Paris with the idea of buying antique European furniture for resale. He'd been terribly seasick on both the voyage over and back; much to his cousin's rich amusement.

Claymore grimaced as he poured a stiff measure of the amber liquid into his glass. The business plan had been a sound one and he'd been eager for any help from someone with the right connections.

Sadly, he'd been taken into the dissolute company of a rakish nobleman. A man with royal connections who'd offered to be his agent in France and had introduced him to all the right people for a substantial fee.

Count Beauvoir had told his new client that he was a happy widower, having lost his young and wayward wife a couple of years before. Claymore soon found the man was also an inveterate gambler and a wastrel. Someone who would happily wager on anything and everything.

Much to Claymore's chagrin and cost, he'd quite lost his way in the heady world of card games and endless parties. He'd soon run out of money and had to depend on his patron for several large loans he'd promised to repay.

Finally, he'd managed to escape from the man's disastrous company. He'd returned to Schooner Bay somewhat poorer and a lot wiser. The business in French antiques did take off and became a nice little earner. Then the welcome news of the nobleman's unfortunate death had eased Claymore's conscience and the undoubted strain on his purse. He'd thought himself safe from any need to make the repayments as he set about acquiring the man's furniture.

But his unfortunate past had finally come back to bite him hard. Sadly, the Count had lied about his marital state. His young and beautiful wife had been alive and well but living apart from him at the family's large estate in the remote countryside.

The blasted man's young widow, the Countess Vanessa Beauvoir, had arrived in Schooner Bay like a perfumed whirlwind. A woman on a singular mission. She demanded to be allowed to recover the contents of the furniture Claymore had recently purchased from her late husband's estate.

"Confound the woman…" Claymore drained the glass in one swallow, making him cough and his eyes water. The burning liquid landed on his empty stomach, making him squirm in pain.

He'd been trying very, very hard to become a changed man. A reformed character in the eyes of his family and friends. He'd made promises he was doing his best to keep. He'd almost succeeded until his past returned.

"If only…" He sighed again.

It was on that unfortunate day more than two years ago, that Vanessa had also found the crumpled promissory notes from that dreadful time, carelessly scrawled in Claymore's unsteady hand. Much to his present chagrin, she hadn't shown them to him when she'd found them.

She'd slyly kept them against the urgent need she had now. If only she had, the debt would have been well settled and he would not be in such a predicament.

"Women and their wily wiles…" Claymore glared at the closed office door. "Where is that blasted demon, Turner when you have need of him?"

After her tumultuous return from London on the Rebecca, Vanessa had finally decided to drive up from Boston to bring these unfortunate notes to Claymore's notice. She was willing to exchange them for his help in conveying the French spy to Tunis under the very suspicious nose of the elderly Bey. Daniel's friendship with the old man was almost a guarantee of safe passage.

"Blast…" Claymore complained again as he poured a second stiff measure of the amber liquid and downed it on one swallow, making him cough anew and his eyes water badly. His empty stomach went into revolt, grumbling its displeasure at such rough ill-usage.

He knew Daniel would return to his house and tell Carolyn the news of her uncle's backsliding on his promise to reform. He scowled as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I am an honest man…"

He felt despondent and very badly used. "The confounded French have always had such awful manners…"

And he knew no one in his family would bother to call upon him to explain. His past behaviour was a wide and certain map to his behaviour now. He was simply reverting to type as they all expected he would.

Suddenly, he felt very much alone. Even young Jack's cheery and open face did nothing to alleviate his deep sense of despondency as the clerk entered the office fresh from his latest round of rent collecting.

"Bah!" Claymore immediately pulled out his large pocket watch and opened it, frowning at the dial. "You're five and a half minutes late! You know time is money! I've lost count of the times I've tried to teach you that valuable lesson!"

"Yes, Sir…" Jack's smiling face fell as he scuttled to his desk with his head down and his eyes averted. "I'll try not to be so late again, Sir…"

※※※※※

"Tunis?" Carolyn questioned with a worried frown as she tended to the needs of her baby daughter. "I have to say I don't like it. What sort of game is Claymore playing now? When he came to us for Christmas, he said he was quite reformed."

"I don't know, my love." Daniel shrugged. "He said he's looking out for our family. He seeks to make more profit from this voyage than any two to London town. If it were a commission from any other merchant..."

He shook his head. "But Claymore is being Claymore." He'd quickly decided to omit any reference to the French spy he was to transport from Marseilles. His beloved did not need that worry on top of all else.

Carolyn straightened from tucking Lucy into her bassinet. "And Jonathan is to sail with you. I cannot say I like that either. Africa is a dark and dangerous place for a young boy. London would have been a safer voyage for one so young."

She made a discontented face. "And now my mother has telegrammed to say she and Father will be travelling down to visit us as soon as the snow has been cleared from the awful country roads we have around here. She worries more about the isolation than seeing her new granddaughter." She wiped her tired hand across her eyes. "She will never change. But my father will be my buffer against her displeasure."

"May the very devil take your blasted mother. I am sorry you must endure her alone. But you must show her as brave a face as you will show to your son, my love," Daniel advised gently, kissing her temple. "The lad is growing up. He is so excited and wants to become a sea captain. I could think of no better profession for him."

"But not too fast," Carolyn replied quickly. "He's still a child. Another complaint my mother will have. She has visions of my son becoming a banker, since he must one day inherit all from my father."

"An awful fate not to be countenanced…" Daniel shook his head. "Please don't worry. I will be sure to take very good care of the lad on the voyage. And Malcolm will see that no harm comes to him. We will return before you have time to miss us. And we will be richer for the sailing. London can wait for a couple of months."

"I will still worry, and I will miss you," Carolyn replied, pushing her arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. "I can't help it. I'm Jonathan's mother and your wife. And I will not be sailing with you this time to care for you both."

She chuckled ruefully. "It would be one way of avoiding my mother's visit."

"Look up on the night of the next full moon and I will do the same," Daniel whispered against her hair. "We will be together beneath the beauty of her serene face. That I can promise you."

"Yes…" Carolyn laid her cheek against the strong beat of his great heart. "But I would rather be with you there and spend some time exploring more items on my list of likes and dislikes…"

"Woman…" Daniel growled, tipping her face up to his with his fingers beneath her chin. "You make it so very hard for a man to sail away from you…"

"As is my intention…" His wife smiled as she went up onto tiptoe and kissed him long and hard. "We have some time to make up for…"

She glanced at the bassinet and the peacefully sleeping child. "Martha has taken the children to town to shop for supplies and an ice cream treat afterwards. They will be gone for a few goodly hours yet…"

"Are you sure?" Her husband frowned down at her with deep concern.

"Yes…" Carolyn nodded quickly, drawing back to clasp his hands in hers. "Dr Ferguson has already attended to me and has pronounced me well and able to resume my wifely duties." She smiled saucily. "I'll admit I've been itching to do so for some days now..."

"Then we must not ignore the good doctor's sound advice…" Daniel commented as he bent down to gather his wife into his arms and carry her to the bed where they tumbled together into its wide softness...

※※※※※

"I will miss you…" Elroy Applegate touched the tip of his forefinger quickly to the back of the young woman's hand. "I don't want to go."

They stood close together in the hustle and bustle of the crowded Schooner Bay docks. They'd been standing there for over half an hour, not moving. They were lost in each other and paid no attention to the curses and comments being aimed at them as they got in the way of the work of honest men.

Beth Shipton smiled at her new love as she curved her middle finger around his. "I'll miss you too…" she whispered. "But if you do not go then you cannot return to me, safe and sound."

Behind them, Carolyn rode at anchor, lifting and falling against the dock's timbers with the motions of the rising tide. The far horizon beckoned, and the ship was eager to be gone.

Old Alfred leaned on the rail, looking down at the busy dock. "Young love!" He spat dismissively over the side of the ship. "Never were a man's brain all out to let," he declared hotly. "I swear, all that billing and cooing makes me sick to my stomach!"

He sighed deeply. He'd left the darkness of his tiny, lonely house before dawn to hurry down to the ship to make ready for her to sail with the tide. He frowned direfully at his young apprentice dallying with his new love. He turned his attention to his Captain, who was also wasting time and dawdling with his pretty wife surrounded by their family and kin.

The old sailmaker scowled at the sight. He knew a twinge of envy as well. He had to admit that Mrs Gregg was very easy on the eye. He admired her trim figure and elegant clothes. For a mother of three young hopefuls, she had kept herself well.

But all their fondling and lovemaking was wasting good time and daylight. Old Alfred wanted to shout at Applegate to move himself, but that would attract his captain's distracted attention. And he didn't want that.

He glanced along the side of the ship to where the Rebecca rode restlessly at anchor. She'd sailed into harbour before the dawn and her master was also standing at the rail, watching the lack of productive activity on the wharf with a jaundiced eye.

"Aw, belay that, man! I've already bid my wife, her fond farewell!" Captain Beaumont raised both his fist and voice at his dawdling business partner. "Now we've work to do and a voyage to make! The tides wait for no man!"

"We've got time enough yet!" Captain Gregg replied over his shoulder and proved it by turning back to his pretty wife to kiss her again with obvious relish.

"Bah!" The old sailmaker spat over the side once more before he turned from the rail and headed below to his cubby to wait for his tardy apprentice to finally show himself. Then he would be able to give the young man a considerable piece of his mind in the privacy of the gloomy little room.

※※※※※

Claymore stood at the large window of the harbour master's office, watching both ships prepare to sail. He'd heard Beaumont harangue of Daniel, and his cousin's careless reply as he dallied with his pretty wife.

Claymore wanted them both to go about their business and be quick smart. He feared word might leak out about the bad business of their dealings with the French spy. He had no idea if Vanessa had left town yet.

The old harbourmaster walked up beside him to also stand gazing out the window. "A wonderful sight and no mistake," he said. "They're both fine ships. Young Jonathan will do well aboard."

"Yes…" Claymore replied distractedly with a sigh.

"By the way…" The old man pointed with his bewhiskered chin toward some roped bales of cargo being loaded onto the Carolyn under the watchful eyes of young Mr Jarvis. "A last-minute addition to the manifest. It was loaded under your name."

His grey eyebrows rose. "The young lady said you'd already given her your approval."

"I… What lady?" Claymore frowned.

"That young woman…" The old man jerked a thumb over his shoulder as the door to the office opened.

Claymore turned and was startled to see Countess Beauvoir had entered the office. She stood watching him with challenging amusement in her dark eyes.

"A matter of some exports of mine, Mr Gregg," she said evenly. "My important buyer was most keen to have them delivered by the first ships to leave the harbour. I did not think you would mind if I used your name. We have done such business before, remember?"

"Oh, yes, I remember," Claymore replied tightly, trying to keep his chagrin from showing.

"Then the transaction meets with your approval?" the harbourmaster asked doubtfully. "I mean, if there's some sort of dispute between the two of you…"

"Yes, yes, it does…" Claymore nodded quickly, waving a dismissive hand. "And there is no dispute between us." He managed a light laugh. "I was just surprised to see the countess after such a long time. I had thought our business had been long concluded."

He stared hard at Vanessa. "What has it been? I fear, more than two years since we last contracted our business over a few antiques belonging to your late husband. If I remember rightly, you wished to retrieve some property of yours."

"Oh, yes, that's right." Vanessa laughed sweetly, her dark eyes flashing. "I had quite forgotten those more straitened times I was forced to endure. A woman alone…"

She shook her head, setting her dark curls dancing. "But, now I am a woman of substance and means." She preened unashamedly, patting at her tumble of elegantly coiffed curls back into place against the very expensive silk of her stylish morning gown that fairly shrieked of the heights of Paris fashion. "And I may do exactly as I please. Exactly as I please…"

Both men stared at her with varying expressions of consternation and confusion. The old harbourmaster, because he'd not seen a more vivacious and forward woman in a very long time and she worried him. He was very glad to be safely married these many years to a quiet mouse of a woman who suited him admirably.

He cleared his throat pointedly. He had port business to conduct and the confounded harpy was in his way. "If you'll excuse me, Madam…" He indicated the office door. "Are you leaving too, Gregg?"

"Yes, yes. Our matter of business is done here…" Claymore rubbed worriedly at his deeply dyspeptic stomach.

He grimaced as he crammed his hat onto his head. Holding the door open for Vanessa to sweep past him with a triumphant smile, he wished that blasted demon, Turner would appear and carry the confounded harridan away to the very warm place where she most certainly belonged!

※※※※※