The Elusive Flame (55 page)

“You’d better wait until I can light a lamp for you. The rest of the house is as black as a bats’ haven. I thought when I came home that you had already left because everything was so dark.”

“I doused the lanterns so I’d know where those two brigands were. They couldn’t get around the house without light, so it was easy for me to keep track of where they were.”

Beau lit an oil lamp and handed it to her. “I’m truly amazed at your resourcefulness, madam. I’m also very proud of you for defending your family so well.”

“Alistair and Rudd forced me into it.” Cerynise accepted his offering with another sigh. “I could have done nothing less.”

“Madam, from what you’ve told me, I can only imagine that you were superb. I’m just sorry I missed it all.”

“If you had been here, you’d have taken care of those two in short order.” She nodded as she came to a firm conclusion. “I think the next time you have to secure your ship before a storm, I’ll either go with you or take your son to Harthaven at the first mention of bad weather. I
don’t believe I can stand another evening the likes of which I’ve just experienced.”

Beau placed a doting kiss upon the top of her head. “If it will ease your mind, my pet, I’ll make a point of staying close beside you whenever storms are approaching. Would you like that?”

“Oh, yes!” Cerynise smiled as she searched his face. “Then I can be assured you’re safe, too. The fact that my parents were killed during a storm makes me worry about your safety when you’re gone during bad weather.”

“Don’t fret yourself, madam,” Beau urged his young wife. “I’m just as anxious to come home to you.”

Cerynise released a long sigh of relief. “I know that, but I shall continue to pray and trust to the heavens to keep you safe for me and Marcus.”

Beau grinned and swept his hand toward the stairs. “Go get our son, madam. I haven’t seen him all day, and I’d like to bestow a little fatherly attention upon him.”

“Yes, sir.” She dipped her head in an eager nod and hurriedly picked a path through the broken glass on her way to the stairs.

When Cerynise unlocked the door of the linen closet upstairs, she found that her son had just begun to rouse from sleep. Gathering him close, she murmured loving words against his cheek. “Your papa is down below, my son, and he’s wanting to see you.”

Marcus blinked his eyes at the light she carried, as if he wasn’t at all sure he liked being disturbed by such brightness. Still, he stretched in the curve of her arm and yawned, drawing a smile from his mother.

The kitchen was ablaze with light by the time she entered. Jasper and Cooper were sitting at the table, groggily submitting themselves to their employer, who was in the process of wrapping bandages around their heads. Moon and Thomas, who had been tied up and left in the carriage house, were otherwise unharmed. As for Rudd, he was still living, but no determination could be made as to his condition or if he would actually revive.

Moon and the servants sat around the kitchen table, listening intently as Beau told them what his wife had done. All of the men were clearly astounded by Cerynise’s ingenuity and mettle to confront the two villains by herself. The fact that she had shot Alistair after he had tried to kill Beau was understandable in their minds, considering how much she adored her husband.

“It’s been a very traumatic day,” Cerynise declared, setting her mind to other matters. “And I’m hungry. Where is the food that Philippe packed for us before he left for Harthaven?”

Beau inclined his head toward a pair of baskets that had been left on a far worktable. “I think we could all use something to eat, my love.” He glanced around at the men to see if they were in agreement. “Is that right?”

“Ye can bet yer bloomers on that, Cap’n,” Moon rejoined jovially. “Me belly’s gnawin’ on me backbone, an’ if’n ye don’t mind, I’ll have a pinch o’ me own rum ta settle me hands.” The tar stretched forth the knobby extremities and exaggerated their trembling for their benefit. “I ain’t quite o’er that there Rudd fella thrustin’ a pistol in me face. He was shakin’ worse’n I was.”

“I noticed he had some difficulty with that when he held the pistol on me,” Beau rejoined with a chuckle. “I was more afraid of it going off by accident than I was of him pulling the trigger. And by all means, Moon, drink whatever you like. I’m sure you could use some strong libation after what you’ve gone through. In fact, men, feel free to indulge yourselves in something other than tea and coffee. My liquor cabinet is open in the parlor, so help yourselves.”

“I wish I had something to comfort me,” Cerynise sighed wistfully.

Her husband smiled at her above the houseman’s head as he tied off the bandage. “The suggestion you made this morning might serve such a purpose, madam. Perhaps you’ll have to try it later.”

Cerynise’s eyes glowed back at him and held a promise
that readily communicated the fact that she was agreeable. “I definitely will, but as for now, I’m famished.”

Beau took their son from her, allowing Cerynise to unpack the victuals. Soon a delectable supper was laid out for all of them, and as her husband pulled around a chair to sit beside her, he leaned across his son to pluck at the large hole in her pocket.

“You ruined your dress shooting Alistair.”

Cerynise slipped a hand into her pocket and ruefully examined the rent as she thrust three fingers through the hole. “I really didn’t expect it to cause so much damage.”

Moon cackled in sudden amusement, feeling no pity for the men who had tried to kidnap her. “Jes’ think o’ what it did ta poor ol’ Alistair Winthrop.”

Cerynise realized she hadn’t seen Alistair’s body in the foyer when she came downstairs. “Where did you put him, anyway?”

“Moon and Thomas hauled his carcass out to the carriage house,” Beau replied. “There was no sense in keeping it in the hall where we’d stumble over it. The last of the storm should be beyond us by morning. If so, Sheriff Gates can be fetched as soon as it’s light. He’ll want to know about Frank Lester and my other suspicions.”

If Germaine had truly connived to kill, Cerynise had no doubt that justice would have its day. A shiver was elicited from her as she began to think of the verdict a jury would arrive at and wondered if a woman had ever been hanged in Charleston. Whether for man or woman, it was a gruesome train of thought for her to dwell on. “Let’s talk about something else right now.”

Beau readily conceded to her wishes. “Mr. Oaks said this afternoon that he and Bridget have finally set a date for their wedding. ’Twill be the second week after he returns from the Caribbean.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Cerynise replied, but as she realized that she’d be losing Bridget, she grew suddenly glum. “But I shall miss her terribly.”

“No need, madam,” her husband reassured her. “Bridget
will be staying on as your maid and, in that capacity, will be traveling with us on the next voyage, much to Mr. Oaks’s delight. Of course, she’ll have to content herself with sharing his cabin, for my parents are also talking about coming with us.”

“Ye know, Cap’n,” Moon interjected with a chortle, “maybe ye oughta think ’bout takin’ on passengers on a regular basis. Ain’t no ship finer ’an the
Audacious.
”

Beau grinned and shook his head. “I rather enjoy searching out all that cargo I bring back to the Carolinas and I don’t think the passengers would be willing to pay fares that would equal the profits I now make.”

“Well, then if’n ye won’t consider that, maybe I can offer ye ’nother suggestion. I hears Billy Todd’s been lookin’ toward a naval career lately. If’n that be true, ye’ll be needin’ a cabin boy like meself ta see ta yer needs aboard that there fancy ship o’ yers.”

“That might be a possibility,” Beau allowed and then chuckled. “But you know you’ll have to tolerate Monsieur Philippe’s cooking.”

Moon drew his face up in a disgruntled frown. “Ye wouldn’t want ta choose betwixt the two o’ us, would ye, Cap’n?”

Beau shook his head as if sorely distressed by the choice presented him. “If I do, Moon, I’m afraid I won’t be letting Philippe go. I’ve gotten quite fond of his cooking over the last few years.”

Moon winced at the captain’s decision and tentatively took another taste of the clam croquettes. He gummed the food for a long moment reflectively before heaving a laborious sigh. “I su’pose I could get used ta this here stuff if’n I had ta.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to if you want to sail under me,” Beau stated candidly.

Moon cocked a squint toward him and chided, “You drive a hard bargain, Cap’n.”

Beau chuckled. “Aye, I do.”

*   *   *

The worst of the storm had passed by the time morning arrived. By the ninth hour the authorities had already been out to the Birminghams’ residence. When they left, they took Alistair’s remains and the injured Rudd with them. The barrister’s skull had been fractured, it was later determined, but he would likely recover. If he did, he’d probably spend the rest of his days in prison. There was, of course, a chance that he would hang, but that was for the jury to decide. The injured servants were far more fortunate, for Jasper and Cooper were already much improved and bent on restoring the house to its former splendor.

The following afternoon the sheriff came out to the house to inform Beau that Frank Lester had confessed that he had helped Wilson in an attempt on Cerynise’s life and that Germaine Hollingsworth had talked him into doing it, claiming that Beau had offended her. Upon her arrest, the woman had screamed denials like a cornered shrew. Her father had been outraged that such slander could be cast against his precious daughter and had threatened to see the sheriff thrown out of office. But Sheriff Gates had stood his ground and had taken Germaine into custody.

“What a relief,” Beau sighed after witnessing the sheriff’s departure. “Now I can stop fretting for your safety.”

Cerynise slipped her arms around his lean waist and rested a cheek against his broad chest. “Now I won’t have to feel like a prisoner in my own home.”

Beau leaned back to peruse her face. “What would you like to do outside our home to celebrate your new freedom, madam? Go to the theater? Have dinner somewhere? Perhaps a visit to the couturier would suit your mood. Or would a carriage ride suffice?”

Cerynise tilted her head at a reflective angle. “Philippe is a much better chef than anyone in the city. I’m not particularly bent on going to Madame Feroux’s and listening to her gibberish. There’s not a performance at the theater that we haven’t already seen. And I’m not interested right now in a carriage ride.”

“So tell me, madam, what is your pleasure?”

The comers of her lips turned upward enticingly as she rose on tiptoes to whisper near his cheek, “Playing in the study would suit my pleasure just fine, sir. Would you be interested?”

Beau’s eyes sparkled above a wide grin. “Absolutely, madam. It was just the very thing I was hoping you’d say.”

With a debonair grin, he offered his arm and escorted her into the front room, where he locked the door securely behind them.

C
HARLESTON BASKED IN
the glory of a brilliantly clear autumn day. The leaves on the trees were turning, and there was a scent of the changing season in the air that was positively intoxicating. Fall flowers were in bloom in the garden around the Beau Birmingham house, and the distant neighing of horses could be heard from their paddocks down the street. Sitting in the backyard gazebo with her husband, Cerynise held her son in her arms and reflected on the fact that everything looked so wonderfully normal. There was no sign of damage from the storm of a fortnight ago.

A happy sigh escaped her, earning a smile from her husband, who sat in a chair beside her. “You sound content, madam.”

“I
am
content. Wonderfully so.”

Beau glanced around as the butler approached. “What is it, Jasper?”

“A gentleman from England is here, sir, wishing to speak with your wife…except that he called her by her maiden name.”

Cerynise was reluctant to go inside and break the revelry of this moment that she was enjoying with her family. “Why don’t you show the man back here, Jasper,” she suggested. “I’m sure he’ll be able to appreciate this fine weather we’re having.”

Jasper smiled and inclined his head. “As you wish, madam.”

The visitor was promptly escorted to the backyard gazebo. He was a man of middling years with neatly trimmed gray hair. His dark trousers, unadorned waistcoat, and somber frock coat proclaimed him a serious sort. The questioning gaze he bent upon Cerynise was certainly most intent. “Miss Kendall? Miss Cerynise Edlyn Kendall?”

“Actually, it’s Cerynise Birmingham now, sir,” she replied and swept a hand to indicate Beau. “This is my husband, Captain Birmingham. And you are…?”

“Mr. Thomas Ely, Miss Kendall…” Hastily he corrected himself. “I mean, Mrs. Birmingham.” He smiled. “It may take me a while to get used to your married name, after thinking of you for so long as Miss Kendall. Even after learning you had gotten married in England, I’ve still continued thinking of you as Miss Kendall, for which I must beg your pardon, madam. I shall endeavor henceforth to use your rightful name.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ely.”

He looked at her curiously. “May I ask if my name means anything to you, madam?”

Perplexed, Cerynise shook her head. “No, I’m afraid it doesn’t.”

Thomas Ely nodded as if her answer confirmed something that he had been mindful of for some time. “Before her death, Mrs. Winthrop had indicated that you didn’t know anything about her intentions. She was afraid you would be burdened by them, and she loved you far too much to cause you any concern whatsoever.”

“Her intentions?”

“To make you sole heir of her estate, apart from a few bequests to the servants, of course.”

“But how would you know that?” Cerynise queried in bewilderment.

“Forgive me, Mrs. Birmingham. I should explain that I served as Mrs. Winthrop’s solicitor.”

“Mr. Rudd was her solicitor for a time,” Beau interjected. “Are you aware of that?”

Mr. Ely frowned at the mention of the name. “Oh, indeed, sir. Mrs. Winthrop dismissed him several years ago after deciding that he wasn’t to be trusted. She believed he was in league with her nephew, Mr. Alistair Winthrop.” A momentary scowl passed across the lawyer’s face, but banishing it, he hastened to explain, “Mrs. Winthrop engaged me soon after arriving at that decision. One of my first duties as her solicitor was to draw up a new will.” Facing Cerynise again, he added, “The woman was very clearly dedicated in her intent to leave you virtually everything she owned. As it stands now, Mrs. Birmingham, you’re a
very
wealthy woman.”

Cerynise peered up at him with some perplexity still showing on her face. “May I ask how you found me after all this time, Mr. Ely?”

At Beau’s invitation, the lawyer took a seat across from them as Bridget came out to serve them tea. When the maid left, the man took a sip from his brimming cup and sighed in pleasure at the flavor. It was more like the good English tea to which he had become accustomed. Thus far he had failed to find a favorable comparison in the Carolinas. Of course, the cream and sugar helped.

“I fear that my tardiness in finding you will take a bit of explaining, madam,” the lawyer apologized at last. “My belated arrival must seem very strange to you, but unfortunately, I suffered an…incident…many months ago. I nearly died and was quite ill as a result, to the extent that for a time I was bereft of my memory. Even when it began to return, the events closest to the time of my…ah…disability…remained rather muddled. It has only been in recent months that I’ve been able
to recall enough to resume my business and my search for you.”

Thomas Ely sighed with genuine regret. “After recovering, I made the assumption that you were still in England and that your name was Kendall. When that availed me nothing, I despaired of ever finding you. But shortly thereafter, I realized that you might have married. I began searching through church registries and finally came across a record of your marriage to Captain Birmingham. From there, I spoke with the parson who married you and discovered that you might well be a resident of the Carolinas.”

“I applaud your persistence,” Beau responded politely. “But I must confess that I’m rather surprised that you came all this distance when you could have easily sent a missive to us.”

“Ah, well, as to that…” A deep frown again gathered the man’s brows. “I regret to inform you that Mrs. Birmingham may be in some danger. You see, the incident that resulted in my loss of memory was actually an attempt on my life. I was extremely fortunate to survive it. If not for the fact that someone caught sight of me and rescued me soon after I was thrown into the Thames, I wouldn’t be here today. Under the circumstances, I thought it best to come posthaste to warn you.”

“We appreciate your concern,” Beau assured him. “I would presume the man who tried to kill you was Alistair Winthrop?”

The lawyer could not conceal his surprise. “Why, yes! But may I ask how you came by that knowledge?”

Briefly Beau told the lawyer what had happened, and at the conclusion of his story, he added, “It may sound callous to one who has never experienced the trauma of being in constant jeopardy, but I feel enormously relieved that Alistair Winthrop is now dead, and that my wife and I no longer have to live in dread.”

A look of immense relief had also settled over Thomas Ely’s face. “I cannot tell you what a worrisome weight
this news lifts from my own mind, sir. The thought of that man still roaming free and able to strike me down again has dogged my every step since he tried to kill me. I informed the authorities, of course, as soon as my memory returned, but by then he had already disappeared from England, and there was little they could do.”

Beau had some questions about the legal arrangements needed to secure Cerynise’s property and invited Mr. Ely to spend the night so they could discuss the details further. The lawyer cheerfully accepted, for the first time in many months feeling as if he didn’t have to glance over his shoulder to see if anyone was there.

Much later, when the couple were at last free to retire for the night, Beau drew his wife from her side of the bed and enfolded her within his arms. “Have you given any thought what you want to do with Lydia’s estate?”

Cerynise nodded eagerly against his chest. “Actually, I’ve been giving careful consideration to that very matter and have come to some definite conclusions, of which I hope you’ll approve. Since my paintings have begun to sell for sizable amounts and you’re wealthy enough to support your family in a luxurious style…if that were at all our wont…I see no need in selfishly hoarding the bulk of Lydia’s estate. So, I’d like to have a large fund set aside to help that nice Parson Carmichael administer to all those children he has taken under his wing and perhaps have an orphanage built for them where they could have beds aplenty. I think Mr. Ely would be willing to oversee the distribution of the necessary funds, don’t you?”

“Oh, indeed, madam. If he put himself to so much trouble for the sake of Lydia Winthrop, I have no doubt that he’d be equally dedicated about bringing your desired wishes into fruition. Anything else?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking of endowing a school for artists where both women and men would be welcomed.”

“To paint nudes?” her husband teased.

Cerynise giggled and playfully nipped his chest. “Now
don’t let your bawdy thoughts get out of hand, sir. There are many things artists can paint besides nudes.”

Beau tried to appear saintly, but he failed by a wide margin. Leering at her, he asked, “Would you like to paint me in the nude?”

Cerynise sat back on her heels and, sweeping down the covers, looked his long muscular body over with a positively critical eye. He was certainly a beautiful subject, but his reaction was just as she had expected it would be. She shook her head, feigning exasperation. “How would I ever be able to keep my mind on painting you in the nude when you’d flaunt yourself like that every time I looked at you?”

“Flaunt myself?” Beau pretended a manly outrage, and then threatened, “I’ll flaunt myself, madam. Just watch me.”

Trying to curb a grin that proved unquenchable, Cerynise closely ogled his manly beauty. “I’m watching, sir. What do you want to show me?”

“This,” he murmured huskily, sweeping her down beside him and kissing her with unrelenting passion.

When Beau finally lifted his head, his wife begged breathlessly, “Oh, don’t stop. Do it again…over and over and over again.…”