Petals on the River (35 page)

consider his offer to buy Shemaine, as if the man had actually perceived

that it was his wife who held the ultimate power.
 
The fellow's success

in plucking the girl from his grasp would have been a despicable blow to

any man's pride, but for Everette Fitch, it was compounded by the

suspicion that J.
 
Horace Turnbull had deliberately arranged matters so

that Gertrude would be the controlling entity in any situation, perhaps

for no other purpose than to see his son-in-law thoroughly humiliated.

Gertrude was oblivious to what had really been bandied back and forth

between the two men.
 
During their exchange, she had swept her eyes over

the mud-pocked thoroughfare and wooden buildings that lined the

boardwalk and drawn her own conclusions.
 
With a sneer she conveyed her

distaste.
 
"I've seen nothing in this settlement that would make me want

to ever come back."

Gage managed a tolerant smile.
 
"Newportes Newes is but a babe compared

to London, madam.
 
Still, there are other cities in this land that are

becoming quite impressive even in their youth.
 
Williamsburg, for

instance.
 
The governor' s palace is representative of a more gracious

way of life than you will see here in this port.
 
As for myself, I enjoy

living on the river, and I treasure the space and freedom of this area.

The spirit of adventure thrives in this land and appeals to my heart."

Gertrude wasn't very appreciative of the tenets of a backwoods colonial,

especially one whom she could only presume was low-born. "I'm sure you

must be overwhelmed with excitement in this savage wilderness, sir, but

I much prefer the civilized refinement of England to this small, filthy

hamlet.
 
Of course, only an enlightened Englishman would esteem his

cultural heritage."

Her sneering tones worried Andrew.
 
The child had heard about witches

from his playmate, Malcolm Fields, and was afraid he was seeing one

right now.
 
Stumbling around, he hid his face against his father' s

buckskin-clad thighs, desperately wishing the ugly, gruffvoiced woman

would go away.

Gage combed his fingers idly through his son's hair as he offered a

reply.
 
"I know London very well, madam.
 
I grew up there and worked

nearby building ships for my father.
 
I've met aristocrats who thought

themselves knowledgeable beyond the common man.
 
Granted, some were, but

more than not, I sensed the views they expressed originated from a

narrow-minded prejudice."

Gertrude sniffed arrogantly.
 
Such a clod needed to be set in his proper

place, and what better way to accomplish that feat than to demean his

ancestry.
 
'You say your father is a shipbuilder, sir, but I wonder if

anyone in England has ever heard of him.
 
You'd not be living here in

this backwoods settlement if he were all that successful.
 
What may his

name be?"

"William Medford Thornton," Gage answered, preferring to leave off the

title of lord.

Gertrude shook her head, unable to recall anyone by that name, but she

failed to consider that her own world was painfully narrow, her circle

of friends even more so.
 
In supercilious pride she posed another

supposition.
 
"I'm sure you've heard of my father.
 
He's quite well .

known among the best of circles.
 
Almost everyone in the shipping trade

knows J.
 
Horace Turnbull."

Gage lifted a brow in amused wonder.
 
"J.
 
Horace Turnbull, did you

say?"

"Then you have heard of him."

"Oh, indeed!" His reply was emphatic though somewhat cryptic.

Gertrude smiled smugly, pleased that she had proven her point. "'Twould

seem his fame has spread even here.
 
But tell me, Mr. Thornton, how is

that you know of my father?"

A dark brow twisted dubiously upward as Gage met her gaze.
 
"I'm not

sure that I should tell you, madam."

"Oh, you must!" she insisted.
 
'I'll not have it any other way."

Gage glanced down at Shemaine, who had sidled close to him, as if

unconsciously seeking safe refuge, like Andrew.
 
His answer would

probably be the only revenge the girl could ever savor.
 
He squeezed the

thin fingers reassuringly.

"Ten years ago or so my father sent me on a mission to find your father,

madam,'' he said, once more bestowing his attention upon the matron.

"Before the occurrence of that event, J.
 
Horace Turnbull had taken

possession of a ship he had ordered from my father and had left a chest

of coins as payment in full.
 
The contents were carefully counted before

the agreement was sealed, but after your father sailed away on the ship,

the chest was taken to a London bank.
 
When it was opened, musket balls

were all that it contained.
 
At some place and point in time, your

father had managed to switch two trunks that were exactly alike, except

for their contents, a connivance which we later learned he had planned

with Lendon Crocket, once one of our most trusted men."' Pausing as

Gertrude gasped an outraged denial, Gage noticed that Captain Fitch

seemed peculiarly elated by the tale.
 
The woman's stuttering attempts

to convince him of her father's integrity were slowly silenced as Gage

continued.
 
'Though Turnbull had assured Lendon Crocket that it would be

the bankers who'd be held accountable and no one would ever know of the

healthy bribe he had been given, it seemed his real purpose was to let

our man take the blame.
 
Mr.
 
Crocket was wise enough to realize that he

had been duped and told all, shortening by some degree a very lengthy

sentence in Newgate.

"Though I was only a couple of years past a score of age at the time, my

father sent me out on a ship manned with an extra crew with orders to

hunt Turnbull down to the ends of the earth if need be.
 
We found the

vessel taking on supplies as near as Portsmouth and waited til the eve

of the scheduled sailing, when most of the men were enjoying a last

fling in the taverns.
 
While they were doing so, we slipped aboard the

ship, threw the rest of the crew over the side and sailed her back to

the River Thames.
 
My father sold the cargo and kept the profit as usury

for what your father had tried to steal from him. Turnbull was enraged

and tried to call it thievery, but he forgot about our man in Newgate,

who was willing to testify in our behalf.
 
Turnbull had enough wealth to

buy his freedom and was released to carry on his shipping trade.

Needless to say, it was the last time we ever built a ship for your

father."

"I've never heard of anything so preposterous!" Gertrude squawked

indignantly.
 
"I don't understand your purpose, Mr.
 
Thornton, but I do

know your story is nothing more than a vicious, slanderous lie!"

Her eyes flared with unsurpassed fury as they settled on Shemaine.

"You little trollop!
 
Somehow you convinced your master to tell these

lies against my father." Despite the frantic shaking of the fiery red

head, Gertrude snarled in contempt, "What did Mr.
 
Thornton require to

see it done?
 
A night's toss in bed?"

"That's enough!" Gage barked sharply.
 
"Shemaine had nothing to do with

this!
 
You insisted on being told, and I obliged you, madam! If you're

so set on accusing someone, then talk to your father the next time you

see him!
 
Perhaps he'll tell you the truth.
 
But leave the girl out of

this!

She's done nothing!"

"Ha!" Gertrude scoffed.
 
"She'd do anything to see me shamed!"

"You shame yourself, madam," Gage accused brusquely.
 
"You abuse others

out of malice and then judge them by your own despicable character.
 
I

assure you, madam, that whatever shame or slander you or your father

reap in this world, you'll have brought it down upon your own heads. Now

good day to you." Releasing Shemaine's fingers, he slid a hand beneath

her elbow and gently guided her toward the door. Feeling her trembling,

he wanted to pause long enough to quietly reassure her, but there was no

privacy to he had, for the cobbler awaited them in his shop and, behind

them, Mrs.
 
Fitch still stewed.

Andrew cast a frightened glance toward the large woman as he trailed

behind his parent.
 
In his pair of years on earth, he had never seen

anyone look so mean or turn such an ugly color.
 
Tottering hurriedly

through the doorway after his father, he tugged at the elder's breeches,

winning Gage's immediate attention.
 
Fearfully he pointed toward the

matron with the liver-hued face.
 
"Fat witch mad, Daddee?"

His son's anxious question did much to relieve the tension that had

beset Gage since their arrival in the hamlet.
 
Even as he looked back at

Gertrude Fitch, he had difficulty subduing his mirth, and by the time he

swung the portal shut behind them, he was guffawing out loud, amazing

Shemaine, who stared at him in wonder.

"Whatever has taken hold of you, Mr.
 
Thornton?" she asked, startled by

his mirth.
 
It was totally unlike the man, whose smiles were far too

sparse and rarely glimpsed.

"Fat witch mad," Gage mimicked, and inclined his head toward Gertrude,

who still mouthed threats at them through the small, square panes of

glass which made up the larger window that stretched across the front of

the shop.
 
"Would you say that's an understatement?"

Shemaine felt a strange, burgeoning contentment rise up within her as

she glanced toward the turning woman.
 
After all the abuse she had

suffered at Gertrude's hands, she found it rather satisfying to have

witnessed the puncturing of the shrew's overly inflated pride.

They'll both pay for this!
 
Gertrude silently promised herself.