The Captain (11 page)

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Authors: Lynn Collum

BOOK: The Captain
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Jacinda recognized the woman at once as her mother's former maid, Martha. She had stayed on after her mother's death to work for the other ladies of the household.
“Speak up, lad, I'll not—” Martha froze midsentence. She reached out and clutched something at Jacinda's chest.
To her horror, the fall had caused her mother's locket to come out of her shirt. There could be little doubt that Martha recognized the distinctive piece of jewelry that held two interlocking hearts with rubies. It had been a wedding gift from her father, a surprisingly affecting gift for a man who strayed so often.
Martha's gaze swept over the face only inches from hers and she opened her mouth as if to accuse the lad of heaven knew what, but then she locked on the tiny mole at the edge of the stranger's full mouth. “Oh, saints in heaven! God has answered our prayers. Is it ye, Miss Jacinda?” She pulled a handkerchief from her apron pocket and began to wipe dust from the girl's face.
“Look at ye, so grown up, so healthy ... and so very dirty. Why Miss Millie will—”
Jacinda grabbed her hands. “You mustn't tell my cousin I'm here, Martha.”
Doubt played over the older woman's face for a moment, then she shrugged and folded Jacinda into her ample arms. She hugged the girl until Jacinda thought her ribs would break. “Martha, you must promise me not to tell a soul that I am here in Somerset. They would make me come home.”
The maid drew back. “Ye ain't here to stay?”
“It's not safe for me until my father's murderer is found.”
“Oh!” Martha caressed Jacinda's face, still dabbing with her handkerchief at dirty spots. “I was so delighted to see ye alive and well that I didn't think of that. Where's Trudy, miss?”
Despite the tightening in her throat, Jacinda was able to speak. “Dear Trudy died years ago, but she made certain I was in the safekeeping of her family. I'm staying in the neighborhood at present and my safety depends on keeping my identity a secret. I've come home to learn the truth, and I could use your help.”
“I'll do anything ye need, miss. Ye've only to ask.” Martha stared at the face that was much changed, then, overwhelmed with joy, she leaned over and showered kisses on Jacinda's cheeks. “It's so wonderful that yer alive, child.”
Delighted to feel so welcome, Jacinda embraced the woman. After a moment she begged the old servant to tell her everything that had happened at Chettwood since she'd left. Martha looked over her shoulder at the manor, then slid her arm round Jacinda's waist and led her towards the woods. “Someone might see us out here, miss. Come with me. There's a good deal I can tell you about what's been happenin'.”
As the pair disappeared into the woods, they were unaware their encounter had been observed. Drew Morrow sat with his hands on the reins of his carriage, about to depart from Chettwood Manor where he'd stayed overlong, hoping to glean information about Miss Blanchett and the progress on solving the murder. He'd seen the lad appear, hurrying across the field. At first he'd almost glanced away, but there was something so familiar about the boy he stared harder. It was quite a distance from where the captain sat, but he recognized Jack Trudeau's slender form and that huge floppy hat the lad always wore. Drew's first thought was to wonder if the boy had come to bring him a message, but if that were so then why would Jack not have come to the front door? So what was he doing at Chettwood?
Within minutes of Jack's appearance, a slender female of indeterminate age hurried up behind him. Drew watched, wondering what was about to happen, for the woman seemed to be confronting Jack. A cold feeling settled into Drew's gut. He knew little about the two lads he'd brought to his home. They'd saved him, and he had been so grateful that he hadn't questioned their integrity. But he could only think of one reason for the boy to come to a strange house in a neighborhood he wasn't familiar with. Had Jack been a housebreaker in London?
To Drew's utter surprise, the woman began to kiss Jack, then within minutes she hugged the lad, who in turn embraced her as well. What was this? Was the boy some kind of infant Romeo? Drew watched in amazement as the woman slid an arm round the lad's waist and led him into the woods.
Drew stared at the place where the pair disappeared through the trees for several minutes before he finally told his horse to walk on. It didn't surprise him that females would swoon for such a pretty lad, but Jack was scarcely dry behind the ears. It had to be something else that had brought the lad here ... but what?
A myriad of possibilities went through Drew's head and none of them were good. As he swept out the gates of Chettwood, he promised to speak with the boy at the first opportunity. At present he was going to see his father's doctor to find out what could be done to motivate him to leave his bed. Casting one final glance in the direction the pair in the field had gone, Drew frowned. He didn't need Jack causing trouble in Chettwood. Drew needed to gain the family's confidence if he were going to root out a murderer and bring Miss Blanchett home.
 
 
Ben stirred the pot of lamb stew that Nate had brought to the cottage for their evening meal, then put the lid back and pushed the spar where the pot hung back over the low fire. He eyed the wooden spoon, then glanced around to make sure no one else was around. Having food readily available for the taking wasn't something he was used to. With a grin he licked off the thick gravy, savoring Cook's skills. He liked it at Rowland Park. The captain had seen to their every comfort. Ben's gaze roved over the room which held several comfortable chairs, blankets, and linens as well as candles and books for them to read. And not that dull, dry preachy stuff but grand stories like
Ivanhoe
and
Gulliver's Travels
.
He jumped when the door opened and Jacinda entered. “What took you—” the lad halted as he took in her grimy face and clothes. There was dirt from the top of her head to the sole of her thick boots. A grin split his mouth and he asked, “What happened to you? Take a tumble from old Rosie?”
“I fell from a tree at Chettwood.” Jacinda took off her hat and beat the dust from the brim.
The smile disappeared from Ben's face. He came to her, his young face a study in fear. “I told you it was too dangerous for us to come back here. We're not here a week and already you found danger. I know I never truly believed your story, but I've asked Seth some questions and I know everything you told me is true. Someone tried to kill you, and you go to the very place where you might be recognized.” A frown puckered the boy's face. “Seth also said there are people here in the village that think it might have been the captain and his father who were involved.”
Jacinda tossed her hat down on the table. “That's nothing but idle gossip, Ben.” She shrugged out of her jacket and walked back to the open door and shook the dust out. She didn't know why she felt the need to defend the captain. “The truth is there are plenty of people who might have wanted us dead. People who would inherit the estate.” She didn't know who that entailed; since her father had warned her never to allow Mr. Wilkins to know her location, there had been only her letters to him.
“I just don't think we should be here at Rowland Park, of all places, Jack. If the baron or ...” His voice trailed off. It was obvious he liked Captain Morrow and didn't want to think of him as a villain.
She hung her coat on a peg, then went to the boy, putting both hands on his shoulders. “Don't worry. The captain doesn't have a clue who I am. I'm safe as long as I'm just the baron's gardener. The good news is that I have an ally at Chettwood. Martha, my mother's maid, knows who I am and she'll tell us what is happening over there.”
“Can you trust her?” Doubt hovered in his eyes.
“Of course. She would have had nothing to gain by my death.”
As they stood looking at each other, Ben's stomach growled. They both laughed. Jacinda patted her clothes and dust swirled to the floor. “I think I need to go to the pond to have a good wash, is supper ready?”
“Whenever you are. I'll set the table while you wash but don't be long. Or I'll wait like one dog waits for another.” He grinned at her and she took his meaning, which was that he wouldn't wait.
She opened a cabinet and took out her one luxury, a bar of French milled soap that she'd brought from London. Grabbing a towel, she headed out to the small spring-fed pond in the woods. She was looking forward to the cool, refreshing waters.
At the pond, she stood for a moment, taking in the beauty of the remote little clearing. The spring bubbled down the rocks into the pool, which was perhaps fifteen feet wide and three or four feet deep. On the south side, a tiny waterfall splashed into a stream where the hill sloped downward. The narrow little stream meandered into the forest and joined up with the River Axe at some distant point beyond the boundaries of the estate. Their little pond was almost a quarter mile from the cottage, much further from the manor house.
Seth had told them that the gardener had used it as his well and bath. It was quite the luxury for her after years of washing up in bowls in the tiny rooms in London. She usually waited until dark, but today she was too tired to worry. She leaned over the edge of the water to wet the soap, but as she did a puff of dust floated from her hair. She bit at her lip a moment, looked around and decided she was quite alone. She would risk a full bath.
She took off her waistcoat and gave it a good shaking, as well as her shirt. But the cuffs and collar were so grimy she decided to wash the shirt then and there. She kept glancing over her shoulder for she was too exposed with only the muslin binding covering her breasts. Within minutes the shirt was hung upon a bush to dry.
She looked at the water, then at her dusty breeches, but she was afraid to disrobe any further. She hung her mother's locket on a branch and put her boots and stockings on a rock, then waded in, the cold water biting at her skin through the clothes. It took only a few minutes for her to adjust to the water and it felt wonderful. She took her soap and washed her hair and skin until it smelled of lavender. It had been years since she'd felt this clean. At last, she climbed out and stretched out on a rock to dry in the late afternoon sun. The warm rays dried her exposed shoulders, but the layers of muslin binding her chest remained damp. She could remove it back at the cabin and allow it to dry during the night before she needed it again in the morning.
Jacinda ran her fingers through her hair, hating that she would have to cut it again for her role. As a warm breeze wafted though the glen, tousling the drying curls, she wondered if it would look like her mother's had when it was again long. Her mother's hair had been beautiful. Jacinda leaned over the water and looked at her reflection. It was much changed from that little girl so many years earlier. Her face had filled out and become healthy. Her skin glowed, as did her eyes, and her mouth curved upward with pink full lips. Perhaps she would never be a beauty, but—
“Jack?”
Startled, Jacinda fell headfirst into the pond. She stood up and through streams of water in her eyes found herself staring at Captain Morrow. An obviously shocked captain. As she followed the direction of his gaze, she looked down to see that the water had turned the thin muslin almost transparent. Her breasts were perfectly outlined in the wet fabric. Horrified, she crossed her arms in front of her and stared at the gentleman, who appeared to be in equal shock.
“Come out of the water!” he commanded.
A tremor of fear raced though her. Everything she'd planned for was lost. He would know the truth and force her to return to Chettwood where her life would become a nightmare. With a sigh she waded out of the water.
When she reached a spot in front of the gentleman, he grabbed her shirt from the bush and handed it to her. “Put this on and then I should like an explanation about this,” he gestured at the male attire, “and about what you were doing at Chettwood Manor with that servant today.”
She turned her back and closed her eyes as she shrugged into the wet shirt, buttoning it slowly her mind raced. What she could do or say? He was on the verge of learning the truth. She had to do everything in her power to prevent that. Gathering her wits, at last she turned back to see the puzzlement in his eyes. She must give him as little information as possible.
“What do you want to know that isn't fully obvious?” She glared at him and held onto the hope that while he knew her to be a girl, he wouldn't realize she was Jacinda Blanchett. “As to the visit to Chettwood, our grandfather was once employed there.” Which was true, in fact; Ben had been named for the old groom who'd worked for her father.
“Why are you masquerading as a lad?” His gaze was riveted on her face. She turned to the right, hoping that in profile he would be less likely to recognize her. She had changed greatly, but there was still that distinctive little mole.
“I do it to take care of Ben and me. What do you think I could have done in London as a female to support us after our father disappeared?” She glanced at him and was uncomfortable with the way he was staring at her. Thinking that distance was the best strategy, she decided to leave. “What does it matter anyway? We will go back to London at once.” She gathered up her shoes and waistcoat. She grabbed the locket and shoved it in her coat pocket.

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