Lucky's Lady (The Caversham Chronicles Book 4) (47 page)

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Authors: Sandy Raven

BOOK: Lucky's Lady (The Caversham Chronicles Book 4)
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Her babe had Lucky's dusky olive complexion and dark hair and eyes. She had Mary-Michael's nose and chin, but Lucky's mouth and cheeks. As the child nursed greedily from her breast, she realized that she also had Lucky's ravenous appetite. She was so proud of her beautiful offspring, and wanted to share her with the world. Except she was imprisoned in the children's home. The place where she once lived, she was now forbidden to leave. Armed guards were placed outside her window and at each door to ensure she remained confined within.
When the circuit judge ordered her imprisoned until her trial, Mr. Baxter was able to successfully argue that because of her condition, Mary-Michael be allowed to confine herself at the children's home under the care of Sister Euphrenia, who was also the village midwife. The judge allowed it, and postponed her trial until one month after the babe was born.
That date was exactly one week away.
Even though she had much to worry over, such as the potential outcome of her case, her child's father was never far from her mind. Mary-Michael routinely checked the date on the calendar and mentally calculated where Lucky might possibly be if he'd had no troubles. By now, she thought, he should have rounded the horn of Africa and be nearing the Cape Verde islands. And, if all went well, he should arrive in London around the first of April. If this happened, and his ship arrived first, it would be a boon for his fledgling company's bottom line. The first cargo home not only aided buyers in determining the quality of the shipments to come, thus setting the price for that season, but being first in, it received the premium prices. Those arriving afterward didn't earn nearly as much.
Mary-Michael didn't fool herself to think that Lucky would still care about her after she'd disappeared on him as she had. Robert and Andrew told her of his upset upon learning she'd left Indian Point with no way for him to find her or contact her. They'd made it clear to him that she'd decided to move on with her life, and that he should as well. It was just as she'd instructed them to do.
But, oh how she regretted hurting him as she had! There was nothing to be done for it. Mr. Watkins was still alive at that time, and she'd been a married woman. Yes, Lucky had given her the child she'd wanted so desperately, but he also lived in another country. Mary-Michael knew when she'd started the affair that it was not going to be a permanent romance. While she'd fallen in love with him for his honor, his love for adventure, his love for his family and concern for her and Mr. Watkins, she couldn't see herself ever leaving her home to marry him. No matter that the merest thought of him made her heart beat just a little faster and made her eyes fill with tears over what might have been. No matter that she craved his kisses, his touch, and his warm embrace where she could inhale that cedar and citrus scent of his soap. No matter that her heart would never get over the pain of loving him and letting him go.
If he could see their daughter, their precious little angel—he'd hate her for everything she'd done. She'd manipulated him into giving her this gift, knowing fully she never intended to share her daughter with him.
He'd hate her, but he'd love their daughter, Lucy.
 
 
London, April 11, 1838
 
L
ucky slapped Ian on the back. "My God, that was exhilarating. We've never made a return trip so fast."
The two men stood on the dock, where Lucky had waited for Ian. Arriving within an hour of each other late in the afternoon, the two captains realized when there was no one from Customs to greet them, that they'd arrived so far ahead of the others, they weren't even expected.
"Did you ever feel that if you had more sail, she'd have given you more speed?" Ian asked.
"Exactly! Though, knowing Mary as I do, she'd likely calculated the optimal length of yard and decided on this sail plan for some scientific reason. But..." He stopped and turned to look back with pride at their ships bobbing in the harbor. "Aren't they fine sailing vessels, Ian?"
"They are that. They are true
Baltimore
clippers, Lucky, don't forget that."
As if he could, Lucky thought. He no more could forget the boats' origins as he could the woman who designed and built them for him and Ian. His heart was still raw. He thought of Mary daily, and prayed that Spenser was doing well. But if he wasn't... Lucky wanted Mary to know he still cared. Several times he thought to make a voyage back to see what had happened. But in a crowded dockside tavern in Lisbon, Ian had warned him against it.
"If her circumstance has changed, and she would like to have you back in her life, then she needs to be the one to let you know. You'll only make yourself look like a fool if you go. What if she still wants nothing to do with you? What then?"
Lucky realized his friend was right. He'd only appear a lovesick imbecile.
None of what Ian said made Lucky feel any better. In fact, his heart hurt just as much today as it did they day they sailed out of Curtis Bay last summer.
"Someone is coming," Ian said, breaking him from thoughts of Mary.
Before leaving the deck to their seconds, they made sure that armed men on each ship guarded their valuable cargo until they could unload. Which, if Lucky wasn't mistaken by the looks of the young man with writing board and pencil over his ear, would be decided very soon. They watched as the young representative from the buyer strode toward them, note board in hand and an enormous grin on his young face.
"Good afternoon, Captains." The lad hailed them. "Let me congratulate you both on being the first in for the season. We weren't expecting any of the tea clippers for a week or more yet."
Another man rode up on horseback. He didn't bother to dismount as he was from the Port Authority, reminding Lucky and Ian about clearing their paperwork and paying fees before any cargo was unloaded. When he'd finished with that, the authority man told them of another new fee instigated since leaving six months prior, then he wheeled his horse and trotted off, the sound of the horse's shoes clacking on the pavement.
"Another new fee?" Lucky gave Ian a frustrated sigh. His friend just shrugged in reply.
"May I have your class, tonnage, and type?" said the young representative from the buying agent.
"Class four vessel," Lucky said, "and I have fourteen hundred and sixty tonnes, minimal green, mostly pekoe and some bohea. I will provide paperwork when we begin unloading."
The young man turned to Ian, who echoed his partner. "Same class, approximate tonnage, and content."
"Wonderful. Someone from our firm will be on hand to oversee unloading, beginning tomorrow at daybreak." He finished making his notations and said, "Again, congratulations, Captains."
Lucky smoothed his dark month-long growth of beard as he began walking toward town. "I'm for a hot bath and shave. What about you?"
"Something to eat besides salted pork or beef." Ian stopped, as though suddenly remembering something. "Also, get me the address to that winery in Spain. I'll send for the brandy."
"You sailed a good race, in both directions. Let's call it a tie."
"No, no. I lost fair and square," Ian said, "and now owe you two cases. So don't worry, I'll pay my debt." They continued walking. "Next year you'll lose and you'll have to buy
my
American whiskey."
"I look forward to it, Captain."
 
L
ucky rode into the paddock at Haldenwood and a groom rushed forward to take the reins of his horse. Following behind the groom he recognized his nephew, Christopher, coated in dust and what looked like horse hair. In his hands were a brush and curry comb.
"Good afternoon Christopher, does your tutor know you're out here? Or your mother?"
His nephew dropped the grooming implements and wiped his hands on his breeches and held out one for Lucky to shake. "Ho there, Uncle Lucky. Glad y'er back," Lucky smiled. The lad looked to be mimicking the grooms' speech. Lucky remembered doing the same when he was that age, talking like the sailors when he himself was a boy. "Mr. Trevethicke is off 'is feed today, so he didn't come out."
"He's what?"
"You know, sick to his stomach," the lad said, as though Lucky was supposed to know these things. "Or he could have the trots." The looked up at him as though he was sharing a secret. "That's sick on the other end, y'know."
"Yes, yes. I do know."
"Anyways, mama told me to find something useful to do. I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell her I was in the barn. Y'see, I'm supposed to be punished from riding, because I disobeyed ol' Toothpick Trevethicke."
"Toothpick..." Now Lucky laughed.
"And Isabutt has everyone inside in a tizzy. Y'see they're getting ready to go to Town for the season. I wish she'd just find a husband and go away. She's a pain in the arse, she is."
He would not laugh. Though he could remember times when he thought Lia was being a pain in his rear end as well. "You're not supposed to say such things about your sister."
"You know I'm right," the lad said, defensively. "She's a snot-headed brat."
Lucky would not laugh. To do so would tell the boy, without speaking the words, that it was fine to say these things about his sibling. He cleared his throat to keep his composure. "Um, where's your father?"
"In his office with his secretary, as usual." The boy picked up his grooming tools. "No one cares what I do."
"That's not true, Christopher. I care what you do. What do you say we play draughts later?"
"I'd rather play billiards. I could use the practice. Marcus won't play with me."
"Fine. We'll play billiards after dinner." Lucky just shook his head and continued toward the house. They were growing up too quickly.
After greeting the family, and putting off their questions until after his bath and shave, Lucky went to his room. Everything looked the same as it had when he'd left here last September to sail to China. The curtains were open, flooding the room with light, and Lucky looked over at the stack of mail waiting for him. Likely more invitations and notices of some sort. One envelope looked a little different. Not the usual quality of paper he was used to seeing from his friends. This was course paper—the envelope looking as though it had been shoved into a pocket more than once.
The handwriting was flawless, from an educated hand. It was the way the envelope was addressed that caused the sensation of a lead ball slamming into his gut.
To Captain Lucky Gualtiero.
He dropped the thing back onto the desk as though burned by the contents. It wasn't feminine script, which was good. Or disappointing. He wasn't sure.
What makes you think it's from her?
It might not be, he thought, but for some reason he knew it was
about
her.
He took a deep breath, then poured himself a glass of water and took a swallow before allowing himself to touch it again. Why did he get the feeling that the news within the letter wasn't going to be good? Spenser had been very ill when he'd left. Likely he'd died, and someone was sending him the news.
That was it. This wasn't Mary's handwriting. She didn't send the note, so she wasn't asking him to come back to her. This was likely her brother informing him of Spenser's passing.
That had to be it. He lifted the folded envelope and broke the plain wax seal on the back. He took another deep breath then unfolded the page within.
 
January 13, 1838
Captain Lucky Gualtiero
Caversham House
London, England
 
Dear Sir,
 
I pray you are safe aboard your ship out on God's high seas, and that you receive this missive in time to be of some help to my sister.
Mary-Michael is currently under house arrest, charged with adultery, which is still a capital crime in Maryland. I believe the judge wishes to make an example of my sister, as a trial is soon to come. Her accuser is none other than the constable whose advances she has rebuffed since girlhood.
But, that is not the worst of it, Captain.
You see, my sister is with child, and this man is claiming to be the child's father. We believe he, or another man that he is working for, is attempting to take control of Mary-Michael's fortune, and her child's inheritance, as Spenser left my sister everything, including the shipyard. Father Douglas and I asked the judge to allow us to keep Mary-Michael safe as we await the birth of her child in one month's time. For now she is safe at the Children's Home, under the care of Sister Euphrenia, a trained midwife. My sister has of course been under a great deal of stress and this is affecting her condition.
She does not know that I am writing to you. As is her way in everything, my sister is determined to see this through on her own. Mary-Michael confided in us that you are her babe's father and that there could be no other. We believe her. I know that Spenser was happy for Mary-Michael when he heard her news. Unfortunately, he passed into eternity in July, for if he were still here none of this would be taking place.
I am not sure about the laws in your country, sir, but here, it is still possible for people to hang after being found guilty of adultery. I would hate to see this man win his claim of paternity at the expense of my sister's life in order to take your child's inheritance which is what we believe his goal is. He is much despised, and I fear what he might do to the babe after taking custody of it and the fortune should my sister die.
Mr. Baxter and Father Douglas have both asked that I notify you of these events so that you can help us if you are of a mind to.
If you are not, please know that I will continue to pray for your good fortune and fair sailing on our Lord's oceans.
 
Yours in Christ,
Rev. George Albright
Mary Star of the Sea Church
Indian Point, Maryland

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