The Bride of Blackbeard (15 page)

He waded out of the water, his breeches wet
up to his thighs.

“How is it you know so much of the sea, too,
farmer?”

They sat on a dune and stared out at the
white froth that tipped the incoming waves as they hit the
shoreline, again and again.

“My father was on the lifesaving crews here.
Because of the diamond shoals, shipwrecks are completely
commonplace to us. There are groups of men to
this
day, who
brave the swells in the hurricanes, to rescue stranded
voyagers.”

“Like you did for me...” She couldn’t help
but be amazed that she’d actually found someone so true and pure in
motives. Unfortunately, she had come to believe people like Lucian
didn’t exist anymore, except in fairie stories her mother used to
tell her as a child.

“Yes, but one night, when I was fourteen,
during a particularly bad hurricane my father went out with the
boats as he always did and did not return. He was lost to the sea
that night. I had begged him to let me go with him as I felt I was
old enough to help. I was so angry with him that he would not take
me.”

Constanza said nothing. She held very still
and waited for him to continue.

It is so rare he opens up, I fear to even
breathe lest he quit speaking.

“My mother and I were left alone. I knew I
would never be able to make my living at sea as my father had done.
I could not stand to see it every day, and peer into its
depths...wondering if he might be down there. My mother and I were
hired at StoneWater—I to learn the fields and my mother as a
servant to Mr. Kirkaldy. Mr. Kirkaldy and I were close as he never
had any sons, and well, you can see what Sarah is like. She has not
a whit of common sense and neither did her sisters. They were
appalled when he wrote me into his will. He was a wonderful man who
helped me countless times when he had no obligation to do so. Her
father
worked
the land, and knew everything about it, unlike
Ian. Anyway, I have long since forgiven my father. I look at
Benjamin and know there is no way I would let him follow me out to
sea at fourteen. He made the right decision. Otherwise, my mother
would have been totally alone then.”

She grabbed his hand and they sat in silence
for a while.

On the way back to the cottage, when it was
almost in sight on the horizon, he asked, “Tell me about your hand,
Constanza.”

She turned and put her face into the wind.
The sun was setting now, and she didn’t want to spoil this perfect
day by reliving the memory. But he had given her something today—a
piece of his past...of him.
How alike we are, carefully choosing
our words and to whom we speak them.

Guarded
.

At peace with her decision, she sat atop a
sand dune and very unladylike, hiked up her dress so she could sit
cross legged.

Lucian slid beside her and quietly
waited.

“It is quite simple really. I was fourteen
and assisting my father in an amputation. Infection had set into
the man’s leg and I was holding his knee still, as Father sawed
below the joint in an effort to salvage the rest of the leg. As
usual, the lout had been drinking. I was not strong enough to use a
bone saw, so I merely assisted. In his inebriated state, Father
slipped, quite unintentionally. I felt the pop before I felt any
pain. Surprisingly, I did not feel
anything
for quite a
while.”

She sighed and permitted a few tears to
fall, then faced her husband. “All right. That is only the second
time I have ever told that story in its true form. I have
fabricated every possible scenario to save face for my father.”

He drew his gaze away from the shoreline and
swallowed hard as he looked at her. “When was the first?”

“To my Uncle Delvin.”

He leaned over and started to kiss her.
“Thank you.” His kisses became more urgent and he pulled her down
between two sand dunes.

“What are you doing?”

“Constanza, we are married,” he said as he
continued to kiss her.

He stopped abruptly, and pulled back from
her. His gaze stopped her and she waited.

“You can trust me. I will not hurt you. I am
never letting you go.”

“Even though I am wicked and stubborn? And
completely unconventional?”

“Well, I have finally met my match, haven’t
I?”

~ * ~

“Are you sure you don’t mind then?” Lucian,
smiling like a fool, had nets and poles slung over his
shoulder.

“Lucian, you have not left my side in three
days. Go ahead and go, they won’t wait much longer!”

From outside, two men waited. One yelled,
“Lucian, some time before the new year! It is fishing, not leaving
for battle!”

“Shut that door, boy, it is freezing out
there!” chastised Rose.

Quickly stepping outside, he winked at
Stanzy and pulled the door closed. Alone with his aunt for the
first time, Constanza stared at the back of Rose’s head, unsure
what to say.

Rose turned and set a steaming mug of coffee
in front of her. “You do like coffee, don’t you?”

“I was raised on tea, but I have to admit I
drink coffee more and more the longer I stay. So Rose, are you
going to give me any tales of pirates? I hear so many of them now,
I feel like I know some of them.”

“Well, when you live down here on the
island, The Brethren of the Coast are a somewhat necessary evil I
am afraid.”

“How so?”

“We are isolated here so we rely on goods
brought in by boat. At times, the Brethren provide us with items we
cannot get elsewhere.”

Constanza nodded understanding. This woman
was so practical it was like looking into a mirror. A spinster,
Rose was self-sufficient and didn’t require a man’s support or
care. Stanzy thought Rose the most clever woman she’d ever met.

“I have known many a merchant in Portsmouth
to be more crooked than some of the Brethren.”

“Really?” Stanzy sipped her coffee.

“Yes.” Rose nodded, then changed the
subject. “Many of us Bankers live well into our nineties. It must
be something in the water on the island.”

Constanza smiled broadly as she could see
where Lucian had derived part of his personality.

“Rose, what was Lucian’s first wife like? I
hesitate to ask him about her—it just doesn’t feel right
somehow.”

“Mae? She was a good girl and much like
him—very forthright and kind.”

“Were they happy?”

The woman stood and peered out the window.
She gathered the shawl tighter as protection from the constant
drafts seeping in around the windows.

“Yes, they were. She loved him very much,
and he loved her. But I have to tell you, I have never seen him
look at a woman the way he looks at you. You have obviously
bewitched him.”

“Well then, I guess I am under the same
spell.”

Rose laughed and nodded. “When he and his
mother lost his father, they were quite
broken
for a long
time, and I do not feel Lucian was ever quite whole again ‘til he
had Benjamin. It was like another side of his soul opened. Tell me,
what was your family like?”

She shrugged. “Oh, you know, normal
upbringing,”

Oh you liar! Amazing how lies still roll off
my tongue when the situation demands it!

The afternoon wore on, and she awaited
Lucian’s return. Reclining on the chair by the fire, the sounds of
Aunt Rose banging around in her kitchen were oddly comforting, the
fire made her sleepy and warm.

~ * ~

She heard the office door tinkle its silver
bell. Deep voices reverberated through the halls downstairs. She
had no idea what was going on, as it was Sunday and her father
didn’t work on this day, except in dire emergencies.

She hadn’t spoken to him for going on two
weeks, except for the necessities of assisting in the office.
Outside of direct commands, she had no communication with him. So
she had no clue who might be visiting.

Her father no longer had any friends. The
friends he’d managed to maintain while her mother was alive had
drifted quietly away as he slid deeper and deeper into the
bottle—le
aving his children there to drown with him in the
dregs.

Quietly tiptoeing down the stairs, she
placed herself strategically outside his study door to listen.

“
Well, there is no doubt of her beauty as
I observed last week at the market. My only concern is
her...disposition.”

“
How so? Please speak plainly.”

“
Your oldest daughter is attractive, but,
well, you must admit highly irregular. Unconventional. I have seen
her ride a horse to best my eldest son, and she works here with
you.”

Her father laughed cynically. “And she
shoots a musket as well. I assure you, you will find none of that
temperament with Katrina. She is concerned with the typical
pursuits of ladies and has none of her sister’s irregularities as
you put it?”

Constanza sucked in her breath and peered
through the cracked door. The man was red faced and portly, but
worst of all, as old as her father. Probably around sixty-two if
she surmised correctly. And he intended to hand off Katrina—young,
naive Katrina—to this man. No doubt for a heavy price.

Stealthily, she moved back up the stairs to
the room where Katrina was fiddling with a piece of jewelry.

“
Katrina, please, you need to leave
NOW!”

“
Whatever in the world are you talking
about?”

“
Downstairs, there is a man about
father’s age whom I believe wants to marry you.”

“
Oh! Is he handsome?”

Constanza gritted her teeth. “Look outside
the window.”

Her father and the older gent were lifting
boxes out of the back of the carriage to bring inside.

“
Oh my.”

“
Precisely. Run to the Inn and stay there
until I come for you.”

Tears welled in her sister’s eyes, “Stanzy,
what can you possibly do to stop him?”

“
Leave that to me. Just go!”

Stanzy made her way down the staircase and
met her father in the entryway.

“
Constanza, this is Mr. Porterhouse.
Could you go and fetch your sister for me?”

“
I am afraid she has gone to
market.”

Her father’s eyes narrowed. “I see.” Then to
his guest he said, “Well, it seems you and I will have to
reschedule our meeting today.” He began to lead Mr. Porterhouse
back toward his carriage.

Constanza paced back and forth, awaiting his
return. She knew this wouldn’t go well.

For a moment she stood at the window looking
out at the falling snow. She again fought the urge to run and free
herself from this house, from him, from all this responsibility
which weighed so heavily around her neck like a millstone.

She thought of what would happen to Will if
she left. Visions of him going to the workhouse, or worse. She
closed her eyes tightly and prayed. It seemed it was all she did
nowadays. Her hands began to shake and she opened and closed them,
trying to control the tremors.

Her father reentered the house in a rage and
flung open the door.

“
Do not strike me again. You pathetic
animal, you continue to hit me when I am a quarter of your size,”
she warned.

“
Where did you send her? You knew, didn’t
you? We need the money, Constanza, if you expect to continue living
under a roof. She is old enough to wed, and he has money to
burn.”

“
He is your age, and drinks too much as
well. I have seen him at the Inn, Father, and I know the likes of
him. It was said he used to beat his first wife. As a matter of
fact, it was rumored that he beat her to death. Because of his
money and power, the charges were dismissed.”

“
Rubbish, all of it.”

“
You would sell your daughter, your own
flesh and blood, on the chance this might be valid? You are a
monster.”

His speed took her by surprise
as
he crossed the room
. As he cocked his fist, then struck her
hard, it was as if she were watching the scene from another’s point
of view. A dream.

She didn’t cower or cry out, but righted
herself,
and
looked him directly in the eye. “I will
go to Constable Englas and speak to him about your drinking. I will
tell him you routinely operate and perform births while
intoxicated.”

Constable Englas had loved her mother all of
her life, and Constanza as well as her father knew it. He was
uncorrupt and would undoubtedly pursue the issue if brought to his
attention.

“
You wouldn’t. Where would you go? What
would you do?”

“
Anywhere is better than here and
anything is better than assisting a drunk. Oh and remember all of
my irregularities—I expect I can look after myself.”

He raised his hand to strike again, but
something in her eyes stopped him. He stared at her. “Get out of my
sight, you worthless child.”

“
Well, I am your daughter, aren’t I? It
would be difficult to be anything but worthless.”

~ * ~

She started and sat bolt upright in the
chair, only to see Aunt Rose staring at her from the other rocker,
one eyebrow raised. “Nightmare?”

“No, I am fine, really.”

“Constanza, is your father still alive?”

“Why do you ask?”

You were saying, “Father...over and over
again.”

~ Chapter Nine ~

The days in Nags Head passed like a dream to
Constanza. Never had she felt so welcomed, despite being a stranger
to these people. Bankers were all (well most, every town has its
loons) helpful and kind, and as Rose had said, lived to an
extraordinary number of years. Stanzy’s medical brain told her it
must be their diet, but her adventurous brain questioned if the
place might be enchanted. Fantastic stories about the place
abounded, as their trips to the beach or people’s homes
attested.