Heirs of Acadia - 03 - The Noble Fugitive (10 page)

“Amen,” the young pastor murmured over the shoulder of Hannah’s father. “I say, amen.”

Gareth Powers’s scrutiny bit deep. Falconer felt as though the gentleman examined the very depths of his being. Then, in the space of a mere heartbeat, he faltered. Falconer actually saw his strength fade, like a candle puffed out by a sudden gust of feverish wind. Gareth Powers folded in upon himself.

Had Falconer not been there to catch him, he would have collapsed to the floor. Hannah cried and rose to her feet. The pastor rushed forward to help, but Falconer already had the man’s weight in his grip. “Allow me to help you.”

“Papa!”

“It’s all right, daughter. Nothing save a passing spell,” he
murmured, then permitted Falconer to hold him about the chest. “The bedroom at the top of the stairs, if you please.”

“Of course, sir.”

The stairway was a tight fit for two men moving together. Falconer turned sideways and hefted his charge until the man’s feet scarcely touched the steps.

He could hear the man’s labored breathing. Falconer brought him into the bedroom and eased him down onto the bed. But when he made to leave, the man said, “Stay, if you would.”

“Perhaps you should rest.”

“I have rested until this bed has become my prison.” But as he spoke, he settled himself beneath the covers. “I find myself sharing my friend’s assessment of you, though I cannot say for certain why. And I fear that my fevered state has left me unable to trust my instincts and clarity of vision.”

“I can only repeat what I have said before, sir. I seek only to be a worthy servant of our one true Lord.”

“Your words are a genuine tonic.” The man’s eyelids began to sink. “I find we have need of your strength, my daughter and I. Would you be willing to sign on as our traveling companion?” He forced his eyes open.

“I could not promise to remain with you for very long, sir. I am on a mission of some urgency.”

“You seek passage to England, is that not so?”

“With all possible haste.”

“You have visited the ship at anchor in Georgetown?”

“As fleet a vessel as ever I have laid eyes on.”

“The doctor tells me I should permit the vessel to depart without us and seek passage later in the season. But I am impatient to return to my wife and our own shared mission.” He rounded his eyes in an attempt to remain fully alert. “I feel certain that were we to have a trusted ally on whose strength we could rely, the journey itself would do us a world of good.”

“On the doctor’s advice I cannot speak, sir. But for myself,
nothing would do me more honor than to assist you and your daughter through the journey.”

The former intensity returned to his gaze. “I don’t believe I have introduced myself. Gareth Powers is my name.”

Falconer bowed slightly. “Your servant, sir.”

“And you are?” When Falconer hesitated to respond, Gareth added, “I am known as one who safeguards many secrets.”

Falconer recognized there was no way forward but in honesty. Not with this man. “John Falconer, at your service. Late of Trinidad and Grenada.”

“I understand there are men seeking to do you harm.”

“For crimes I had no hand in, save sharing the same mission as the brother who met an untimely end.”

“Talk of your mission shall have to wait. For the moment, I would ask that we pray together.”

The request was utterly unexpected. “Sir?”

“I find there is much to be learned from how a man addresses his Maker.”

Slowly Falconer lowered himself, this time to kneel beside the bed. He bowed his head and said, “Father, I know thy mercy has no earthly bounds. The fact that I am here today is all the evidence I require. Thou knowest my mission, and my urgency. If it is thy will that this man and his daughter trust me to serve them, please grant them the clarity of vision to see thy hand at work. I ask forgiveness for all my multitude of failings and weaknesses, so many they are beyond count. I ask for thy wisdom and strength. For without thee, dear Lord, I am nothing. Nothing save dust and mortal loss. Humbly do I pray in the Lord Jesus’ name, amen.”

Falconer felt not so much ashamed by his words as exposed. Never before had he expressed himself in prayer so openly before a stranger. He was slow in raising his head, fearing what he might find in the man’s gaze.

But Gareth Powers was sound asleep.

Chapter 7

Carla was a slender young woman who moved so silently most people did not even notice her passage. Which was perhaps her intent. Serafina had never thought about such things before. Now, however, when so much rested upon Carla being able to do what she said she would, Serafina found such matters of critical importance. Carla seemed able to float through a room, moving from shadow to shadow in utter silence. When some new chore needing doing, her mother usually found another servant for the task. Carla was, Serafina supposed, quite clever in a strange sort of way.

Today her cleverness paid off superbly. For when Carla brought the morning tray, she appeared to have gained a substantial amount of weight overnight. Her middle in particular seemed rather distended. But her wraithlike movements meant she had been able to slip through the house unnoticed.

Even so, the woman was perspiring and breathing heavily. She did not even bother to set the tray down before hissing, “Show me.”

Serafina drew the pearls from her pocket. “And now you.”

Carla hefted her apron. Wrapped about her middle was a full set of clothing, the kind a manservant would wear. There were dark breeches and a white shirt with sleeves that tied about the wrists. The matching vest had black cloth buttons. “These were the smallest I could find.” She untied her apron and released the burden at her back. This proved to be a crushed tricorn servant’s hat tied with twine about a pair of buckled shoes. “You can stuff the shoes with your drawing paper.”

It was a good idea. Serafina liked the fact that Carla had been giving this careful thought. She handed the maid her pearls as if they were of no consequence, only a means to
what was truly important. She quickly lifted her own skirts and stepped into the pants. They were loose but would suffice.

Suddenly the entire affair came into sharp focus.
I am going to do this
. The air seemed to have been sucked from the room, it was so hard to find breath. “Is the housecleaning schedule the same?” Serafina demanded.

Carla’s eyes swiveled to the jewel box. “Show me the comb.”

Serafina did not hesitate. She unlocked the box and withdrew her final treasure. Her finest. It was a hair comb of jade so pale it looked like translucent glass. It had come all the way from China and was very old. The jade was curved slightly, carved into a series of teeth as long as her fingers. At the crest were two doves kissing.

Serafina held the comb tightly as she lifted it for inspection. Carla’s eyes held a hunger that was almost violent in its intensity. Serafina let Carla look for a long moment, then slipped the comb into her pocket. Carla’s focus remained upon the unseen comb.

“When do they begin?” Serafina demanded.

“In an hour.”

“How will you do this?”

“The signora used to ask me to return the key every time I brought you your meals. But now she lets me keep it. She only asks for it if she or your father are coming for a visit.”

This was what Carla had said before. But it was vital to be certain. “You will come for me when they are busiest?”

Carla nodded slowly. “I will come.”

The activities of the house grew around her. Serafina knew the rhythm so well she could follow all the actions, confined though she was in her room. The first Wednesday of each month, three footmen from her father’s office arrived. Together with the house staff, they moved all the heavy furniture. They rolled back the carpets, carried them downstairs, and beat the dust out of them. They aired out the mattresses
and bed linens. They polished the floors. Then they replaced all the carpets and the mattresses and the furniture. It was a long and arduous day. Everyone knew what was required and moved swiftly about his task with little conversation.

Serafina dressed in the men’s clothing, using the spare moments to stitch up the shirt and pants so they fit her better. She took her time. There was little chance her mother would visit on such a busy day. Her father never ventured near the house on cleaning days. Serafina shredded several sheets of her drawing paper and wadded it into the toes and heels of her shoes. She was careful not to make the fit too tight. She might have to walk for a very long time.

She knotted her hair and stuffed it down the back of her shirt. She buttoned the vest, fitted the tricorn hat down tightly, then examined her reflection in the mirror. Even in the chamber’s half-light she could see strands of her shimmering hair. She took off the hat and pulled her simplest scarf from her top drawer. Sometimes the footmen knotted a bandanna about their foreheads to keep the sweat from their eyes. She tied the scarf about her head and knotted it at the back. She replaced the hat and inspected her reflection once more. It was not perfect, but it would have to do. She would simply have to move quickly.

She found herself caught by the gaze looking back at her from the mirror. They did not appear to be her own eyes, any more than the strange young figure in the dark vest and trousers could be herself. Even in the dim room, the eyes looked feverish, glittering at her with an almost manic light. Serafina’s own reflection caused her stomach to churn even worse than before. The frenzied intensity she saw in the mirror shook her to her very core.

She forced herself to turn away.

She paced back and forth. The noise outside her chamber reached a new crescendo. Or perhaps it was merely the thunder of her pulse.

The key scratched in the door. There was a quick knock. A pause, then a second time. Carla’s signal.

Serafina flew across the room. Carla stood blocking the door and facing away from her. She did not speak. Nor did she move. Instead, her hand rose behind her back.

Serafina placed the jade comb into the waiting palm. Carla gave it a lightning inspection and slipped it into her pocket. She scouted the upstairs hall in both directions, then stepped aside.

Serafina heard her mother’s voice call, “No!”

She froze, her heart pounding in her chest. She heard her mother say, “Don’t drag the settee! See the scar you’ve made? Raise it clear of the floor!”

Serafina sighed away the freezing fear. To her left Carla’s breath hissed out, releasing her own terror.

One of the footmen emerged from Serafina’s parents’ bedroom, staggering under the weight of a rolled carpet on his shoulder. He saw nothing but the next step ahead of him as he moved carefully for the stairs.

Without thinking, Serafina slipped past Carla and moved in behind the footman. She pretended to hold up the rear of the rug and matched his tread down the central stairs. She heard the man’s huffing breath and gasped along with him, her entire body trembling. She glanced through the railing and saw the front hall was empty. The house was filled with sounds of banging and scraping but no alarm.

She was able to take nothing with her. The footmen who helped on cleaning days carried nothing of their own.

When the footman turned the corner at the base of the stairway, Serafina slipped through the front doors.

She stopped there, blinking in the light. She had not been out of her chamber in three weeks and three days. The midday light, at the height of a Venetian summer, was piercing. Serafina knew she could not stay where she was. She stumbled down the front stairs, nearly falling at the bottom.

“Here now, lad.” Strong hands kept her aloft. “Pay attention where you lay your feet.”

Serafina caught herself just in the moment of opening her mouth to thank the unseen man. She stepped away from his grasp and moved into the shadows. She angled her hat to hide her face further. She moved along the wall, not even certain in which direction she was headed. For the moment, anywhere would do so long as it was away.

Away
. What an unearthly strange word to use with such abandon. Away from home and family and Venice. Away from all that she cherished. Away from the only life she knew. Serafina’s eyes adjusted to the outside brilliance as she realized she was moving into Saint Mark’s Square. She increased her speed.
Luca!