The Diamond King (3 page)

“Very little?”

“They are all over the country. Portugal is trying to control their production, but the natives believe the diamonds are theirs. If you can make contact with them, we can purchase them for a small piece of their real value.”

“Diamonds? I thought they were found only in India. I know there was some news about Brazil, but then I heard the stones found there were not really diamonds.‘”

“You were meant to hear that,” Etienne said. “The world was meant to hear that. It is a lie told by the diamond merchants to hold down the price. They’re being shipped to Goa in India, then sold as Indian diamonds.”

Alex stared at him. “How—”

“The cards, Will. A year ago, I played with a diamond merchant. He drank too much wine, and when he lost, he did not have the money to pay. He told me this instead. I have been waiting for an opportunity ever since. He said he will buy any diamonds from that country and authenticate them as coming from India.”

“How can you believe such a story?”

“I know when a man lies ... and when he doesn’t.”

“Why tell me now?”

“For some reason I trust you. Perhaps because you endangered yourself to save children that are not your own. I also wanted to know if you were reckless. You are not, or you would have accepted this ship as it is.”

Alex did not know whether to feel challenged or insulted.

He decided to feel neither. Instead, he relished the knot of excitement that continued to grow. The thought of using British cargoes to steal Portugal’s diamonds intrigued him.

“We can begin interviewing prospective officers on the morrow,” Alex said. “When can you have the cannon?”

Etienne smiled. “Next week.”

The two men returned to the inn where they were staying. Alex would then return to Paris to put his affairs in order, write his sister, and leave what money he had with the families that had taken in his children.

His
children. He had tried not to become emotionally involved with them. They were a responsibility, one last duty to the country he had loved. Nothing more. But now he knew it wasn’t true. They had gone hungry together, shivered together, eluded the British together. They’d had a courage that few men had.

He would miss them.

Paris,

Two Weeks Later

The farewells were even more difficult than Alex had anticipated.

He had planned to leave at midday for Le Havre, where he would supervise the installation of the cannon and await additional supplies being shipped by barge from Paris. He hoped to sail at the week’s end.

He had visited each of the children. The most troubling visit had been with Meg and Robin, the oldest of his small flock. The other children seemed to have been enveloped happily enough into the families of refugees. But Meg and Robin had stared at him with the eyes of the betrayed.

“I will be back,” he’d told them.

“We want to go with you.”

“That is impossible,” he said. “It is too dangerous.”

“I’m not afraid of danger,” Meg replied.

“I did not think you were, lass. You do not have a fearful bone in your body, and I worry about that. But a privateer is no place for children. I could not concentrate, worrying about you.”

Robin looked skeptical. “You would not have to worry about us. Ships have cabin boys far younger than me.”

“Not my ships,” he said. He had never approved of the practice. He put a hand on Robin’s shoulder. “You need an education.”

“You can teach us,” Robin pleaded. “And we can learn about the sea.”

“You’ve had enough danger in your life,” he said. “Now is the time to be children.”

“I will never be a child again,” Meg said, drawing herself up to her full eleven-year-old height.

And she would not, he feared. Neither would Robin. But he wanted them to have a chance. He wanted them to have enough food, enough warmth, enough schooling. He wanted them to play.

“Nay,” he said. “I will return. I swear.”

It was not a promise
he’d expected to make. But the
hollowed look in their eyes, the expectancy that faded back into hopelessness had prompted it. Perhaps by the time he did return, they would be in a secure home.

He tried not to think that he might never make it back. “I must go, and Burke, too,” he said. “I’ll bring back something very special for each of you.”

He wanted to turn away from the pain in their faces. Leaving them hurt more than any wound he’d suffered. They had lost everyone they had loved. Everything they’d once had.

But he could not stay, and he would not put them in danger’s way again.

“I need you here to make sure all the others are safe,” he said. “Can you do that?”

Meg looked indignant. “
They
have found homes.”

“So have you.”

“They do not really want us,” Robin said.

The two had been the most difficult to place. Robin would have been a marquis, had his family’s title and estates not been ripped from him, but Meg did not come from society. She had been the daughter of a blacksmith who had fought alongside Robin’s father; she and her mother had accompanied him to Culloden as so many families had. After her father’s death, the two had fled into the hills, and Meg’s mother had died of pneumonia in the caves several months ago.

The lass knew little about manners although Robin’s influence had helped her speech. They were so close, though, that they refused to be separated, and that had not aided Alex in placing them with a family.

“Etienne has agreed to visit you,” Alex said. Etienne had taken them for an outing in his carriage, and they had liked him immediately. Perhaps because they recognized the fact that he, too, was a rogue.

Robin’s eyes looked brighter. “He can teach me to be a gambler.”

That wasn’t what
Alex had had in mind. Robin should
have other opportunities. But then he himself wasn’t exactly a model. For the last year, he’d been a thief and a highwayman. “I want you to have an education,” he said. “Both of you.”

The two exchanged looks. Alex didn’t trust that look. But he had to go. Burke was waiting with the horses. He stood awkwardly for a moment. He’d provided for their needs, and little more. He hadn’t wanted to get close to them; it hurt too much to lose people he loved. And it would hurt them if they lost him. They had already lost too much.

He did not fool himself. He was embarking on a dangerous journey. Even with the letters of marque, he doubted whether he would survive a British capture. And from what Etienne had told him, the natives in Brazil could be less than friendly.

He held back, holding out his hand to Robin in a manly farewell, then patting Meg on her shoulder.

He tried to turn his thoughts to other business as he walked away. He and Etienne had found a first mate, Claude Torbeau, who had helped them find the cannon. He was a former French naval officer who apparently had been discharged as the war against Austria had subsided. Alex hoped it was not because of incompetency. But Claude appeared to know his cannon and he knew of seamen who would join them. Alex thought it a good sign that sailors who knew him would willingly sign with them.

He wondered how Burke and Claude would fare together. Burke had no sea skills and would have to be satisfied with working as an apprentice, though he was not pleased about it.

Alex had given Burke a choice. He could stay in France, and Alex would give him what personal money he had left. Or he could accompany Alex. But he would have to obey the first mate. Burke didn’t like to obey anyone, including Alex.

“A Frenchie,” Burke said with disgust as Alex joined him outside Rob and Meg’s home.

“I plan to follow his orders myself,” Alex said. “I know what I dinna know. I know the sea, but I’ve never even seen a sea battle. We need him, and a crew must have discipline.”

Burke grumbled, “A sea battle is no different than any other, yer lordship. But you will need someone to play the pipes.”

“You?” Alex stared at him. The greatest cutpurse in Scotland was a musician? Well, that was no more strange than the fact that he was becoming a pirate.

“I lost them during the battle,” Burke said. “I saw no reason to moan the loss when there was naught to do about it. But if I could have that bit of coin you mentioned, I know someone who has pipes to sell.”

Alex nodded. “Purchase them. I will meet you in two hours, and we ride to Le Havre. The comte is already there.” He started to turn away, then looked back. “And no more ‘my lord,’ Burke.”

Burke just shrugged.

Damn the man. Alex should leave him in Paris.

“Burke?”

“Aye ... sir.” Insolence dripped all over the words.

Better to give up. Alex turned his mind to the hundred things left to do. But no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on them, he couldn’t shake the look of desolation on the faces of Robin and Meg.

London

London was exciting and stimulating. And dirty.

The filth was one of the first things Jenna noticed. And the odors.

Still, she couldn’t resist peering out of the window as the rented carriage clattered down the Strand, London’s principal shopping street. She was entranced by the contrasts: the fish and fruit vendors, the beggars and the well-dressed ladies and gentlemen, the fine homes and dirty streets.

She was used to country life. She had always thought the city would be a beckoning place. It was not that. Yet she couldn’t deny a fascination with the fashionably dressed men and women strolling about without deigning to notice the beggars crowding the streets.

She gave me
beggars what she
could, but she also knew she had to keep some coin for herself. Fifty guineas and a pouch of jewels her father had given her were all she had. If her prospective husband refused her...

She could never return to Scotland. She knew that much. She couldn’t forget the relieved looks on the faces of her parents, even her sisters. She wasn’t wanted there. She would never again go where she wasn’t wanted.

“Jeanette, it is unseemly to peer so,” her companion said. The thought of Maisie Campbell, a hefty lady of dour disposition, as her chaperone for the next few months was daunting even as she was grateful for the company of Celia, her maid.

Yet her quiet soul exulted.

Perhaps something miraculous would happen. Perhaps she would find someone who wanted—or needed—her. Perhaps someone could accept what her family could not.

The ship would sail in two and a half weeks. In the meantime, her father was providing funds for a trousseau. Lightweight garments, she was advised. Her future home had a far different climate than that of the cold and windy Highlands.

A different climate. A different hemisphere. A different world.

Jenna had ventured out twice, both times with Celia and without the knowledge of Maisie. To be in London and not see anything was a crime, in Jenna’s eyes. But they could not venture far without escort or carriage. Today, then, was a treat even with Maisie’s company.

Their destination was the dressmaker. Jenna had never been to such an establishment before. A seamstress had always come and stayed at their manor near Fort William while fashioning gowns for Jenna.

Jenna regretted that her new gowns would not have short sleeves unless they were accompanied by long, matching gloves. The latter might well appear odd in a warm climate and would most certainly be uncomfortable. She told herself again she had to live with what was, and make the best of it.

Ignoring Mrs. Campbell, she looked back out at the streets. They passed a row of fine homes, then a park. The carriage finally rolled to a stop in front of a line of shops.

The coachman stepped down, and a man standing at the establishment’s door rushed over to help her out, then the other two women, and led them inside.

The shop was filled with mannequins dressed in elegant gowns and tables piled with bolts of cloth.

When the older woman saw the arrivals, she hurried over to them. “My lady,” she said. “You must be Lady Jeanette Campbell. We have been expecting you. Perhaps you would like to look over some patterns and materials I have selected. A complete trousseau, I am told. No expense to be spared. And the journey, my lady, it is so exciting, so romantic. I am honored to be of service to you.”

She gushed on for a few moments and Jenna could imagine the order that had been sent to her through the advice of a British officer. It was probably due to her father’s guilt—or relief—over her departure from Scotland.

Within minutes she was looking over the mannequins and selections of materials. The dresses were all very elaborate with huge hoop skirts and panniers. She thought of the temperatures in the Caribbean and described to the dressmaker the designs she wanted. Only one gown with a hoop skirt. The others were to have simple lines. All either had long sleeves or gloves of matching material.

Mrs. Coyle, the dressmaker, merely nodded.

She suggested that Jenna undress to her chemise so she could get precise measurements. Jenna accompanied her and the girl who had been working on the dress in the main room to a private dressing area. Celia helped her off with her dress and corset until only her chemise and stockings remained.

When Mrs. Coyle turned to her, her smile disappeared as she saw the wine-colored birthmark, but it returned quickly. The girl beside her released an exclamation. Mrs. Coyle frowned at her, and took the measurements herself. “You have a fine figure, my lady,” she said. “It will be a pleasure dressing you.”

The joy of the visit faded. It was all Jenna could do to stand there, her birthmark evident for all to see, until the final measurement was made.

Celia dressed her again in silence, her glance sympathetic.

Jenna pulled on her gloves.

“We should have a fitting next week,” Mrs. Coyle said.

Jenna nodded as several women were ushered into the establishment. Their arms were bare. Envy washed over her.

Would anyone ever look at her without seeing the wine-colored mark that ran from the back of her hand up her arm?

Would the man who had asked her to be his wife see beyond the mark? Or would he, too, gasp and look away?