The English Lily (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll) (5 page)

The marquis’ nostrils flared, fury obvious. The menace in his eyes frightened her. Surely he would not dare anything uncommonly bold before a witness.

“Of course, Lady…Ken—Kate.” He tipped his hat and moved aside.

A flicker of apprehension coursed through her, and she stepped back. He would be a dangerous man to cross. “If you would permit me time at a later date, my lord?” she said not meeting his eyes.

“I shall look forward to it.” His voice conveyed a pledge she would have difficulty avoiding.

Kendra clasped Mr. Thomas’s arm. Once she and Mr. Thomas were beyond sight of Bute, she said softly, “My sincere thanks, Mr. Thomas.”

“I fear you may have provoked an adversary, Lady Kate.”

“ ’Tis of no consequence,” she said, not without impatience. Relieved to find no one within earshot, she said, “There is another matter on which I wish your indulgence, sir.”

“Of course. What is it you wish to know?”

Kendra cleared her throat. Now that she had Mr. Thomas’s complete attention, a wave of heated embarrassment swept over her. “In the course of your career, have you ever run across—” She paused. “That is, have any of your pupils—” Kendra inhaled deeply and looked out over the open sea. Frustration filled her. How did one ask for help without sounding like a complete simpleton?

“My dear,” he said gently. “I’ve no idea the question you wish to pose, but if it will appease your fears, please take heed that I have seen much in my decade of teaching.”

“Yes, yes, of course, you have. It’s just a…a difficult subject for me to broach.” She took another deep breath and plunged forward. “I-I have trouble reading, sir. What I mean is, I don’t see letters properly. They shift from—well, from one letter to another. I’m certain this makes no sense...” Her voice trailed off at the humiliation of what she’d confessed.

He nodded slowly. “Ah. I have seen this phenomenon on occasion.”

“I am not…not stupid,” she said—a bit angrily, she was appalled to note.

He smiled, a very kind smile that began to lessen her discomfort. “No, of course you are not. I believe it is a matter of processing. In fact, the individuals I’ve observed with similar conditions are highly intelligent, and creative to boot.” Mr. Thomas had his hands clasped at his lower back and was studying the wooden deck. He looked up quickly, piercing her with a sharp glance. “I daresay I witnessed the delicate pattern you were working on before you took ill. It was quite intricate, if I may say so.”

“Thank you, but what has that to do—”

“I would wager you were not working with a pattern? That what flowed from your fingers was an extension of your mind?” His questions were pointed and so matter-of-fact she found it difficult to take offense.

“Well, yes, but—”

“Do numbers appear backwards?”

“Y-yes,” she whispered.

“Headaches? Dizziness?”

“Y-yes…only when I attempt t-to read.”

“And…what of instruction, Lady Kate?” His voice was so gentle she feared she would break down into a muddled mess as his feet. “How long are you out of the schoolroom?”

“A…a l-long t-time, sir. I h-had to h-hide from my governess. My f-father finally g-gave up on h-having me instructed.” She was stuttering in her humiliation. Self-loathing had her stomach roiling, threatening to empty its contents.

“I believe I can help you, Lady Kate. While I cannot promise you will feel like reading Bernard de la Harpe’s
Explorations in the Great Plains of the New World
, I can assure you I’m able to offer you ideas to make it easier for you to understand what you are seeing.”

Kendra blinked quickly. “Do you really think so?”

“I do,” he smiled.

****

For the third day in a row, Kendra had her head in a book with Charles Thomas at her side. Joseph was ready to chew up the rope holding the anchor. He’d yet to have a single word with his future bride since she’d chased him from her cabin after that miraculous recovery.

He could not fathom what she saw in the studious schoolmaster. Joseph scowled. But she smiled at Thomas like he hung the moon. Her every waking moment was spent in the man’s company, to the point other passengers were beginning to talk.

Some comfort was found in the fact that even Niccòlo was put off by her constant association with the schoolmaster. But after his initial irritation, Niccòlo seemed to find refuge in Juliette Chylton’s attentions.
That
part didn’t bother Joseph.

Joseph thought to invite Kendra’s natural tendency toward envy by engaging Rebecca Selwyn in frequent conversation, but to no avail. Not only did Kendra take no notice of his actions, she never seemed to consider there to be anything out of the ordinary.

And talk about an
imbécile
. Rebecca was sly and vindictive in her renditions of everyone on board. If he had to listen to one more petty observation on how plain Winifred Digby was, he would likely toss Miss Selwyn overboard—or himself.

Joseph rose from his seat, desperate for air. He made his pardons to the offending Miss Selwyn. But in that moment he caught the particularly menacing scowl Bute bore toward Kendra.

Joseph bit his tongue and eased himself back down. “So, Bute. Any headway on that search for a new…” How he longed to say “broodmare.” “…bride?”

Bute took a long draw on his cheroot before answering. “The moment escaped, I fear, but I shall prevail soon enough,” he murmured. His gaze, glowering with malevolence, never strayed from Kendra.

Mon Dieu!
She certainly knew how to pick her foes. Joseph hid a grin.

Kendra and Thomas stood, ready to escape the confines of the dining hall. Joseph envied their obvious camaraderie. He would follow. Lady Kendra didn’t know it yet, but she had a protector. The two slipped out, and Joseph rose, as well, but Miss Selwyn stayed him with a hand on his arm.

“Are you leaving so soon, my lord?” She fluttered her eyes in a manner he assumed she meant as flirtatious. Unfortunately, it looked more like she was attempting to flail an insect.

“
Oui, mademoiselle
. I’ve urgent business.” He paused. “Is something wrong with your eye?”

Two high spots of red appeared on her cheeks. Her hand dropped away. “No. Thank you, sir.”

Joseph bowed his head in retreat and backed from the room.

****

With an exasperated sigh, Kendra lifted her chin and reveled in the cool breeze on her face. Each instruction Mr. Thomas added made her head throb. “Have you family in Sunderland still, Mr. Thomas?”

“My mother is still there. You are changing the subject,” he chastised, but he patted her gloved hand and chuckled. “I know ’tis overwhelming, Lady Kate, but time and practice will serve you well. Mark my words.”

“Do you think I’ll ever be…normal?”

He stopped abruptly and faced her, his expression grave. “Let us be clear on one point, my lady. ’Tis nothing to do with ‘normal.’ Your auditory skills are exceptional. You answer questions precisely and accurately.” He paused as if trying to soften difficult news. “You…process information differently than others. I’ve no idea why. Mayhap no one ever shall.” He turned and resumed their stroll. “But I believe it’s survivable. I believe repetition may be key.”

“Repetition,” she repeated.

“Hmm. I wonder…” he said, his demeanor contemplative. “When you look at words, what do you see?”

“See? I don’t understand. I see letters that make my eyes feel crossed,” she huffed, irritated. But of course, Mr. Thomas was the epitome of good-natured, unending patience. That should not make her feel sullen.

“What if you try looking at words like a picture? Consider the shape. Something you could memorize on sight. Latin root words could prove extremely beneficial in that regard.”

“Latin root words,” she repeated.

“So, let us review,” Mr. Thomas said.

Kendra inhaled deeply and recited, “Draw letter and number patterns with my fingers. On any surface. If no surface is available, use my knee. And practice every day.”

“Very good, Lady Kate. Since most words are derived through Latin, and we already know Latin helps with vocabulary development, I believe it may help in making things not so overwhelming.
Eventually.
I happen to have an excellent Latin text. We shall start first thing tomorrow.”

Kendra swallowed a groan at the supreme efforts she’d decided to undertake. Obvious enthusiasm underscored Mr. Thomas’s matter-of-fact solutions to her dilemma. She was happy to be his guinea pig, so to speak, although referring to herself as a pig of any sort seemed a bit extreme. She blew out a steady breath. At least she was finally taking action, rather than reacting and beating her head against a stone wall.

“Yes.” She nodded slowly. “Yes. ’Tis an excellent stratagem, sir. I shall look forward to it, immense—”

A strange whistle hissed passed Kendra, ending in a thud that felled her hard to her knees.

From somewhere above, the first mate yelled incoherently, and the ship pitched in a violent lurch.

“What on earth?” She blinked through the pain. A flash of heat touched her face. She darted a glance about, and gasped. She counted two—no, three—small fires. In the rigging, on the sails, and one in a pile of ropes.

“Lady Kate—”

Fear, stark and vivid, pulsed through her veins. “Mr. Thomas, I fear something is very wrong, sir.” Her voice shook with her effort to speak, she was so startled.

“Lady—”

She looked down and saw that he’d landed flat on his back. “You’ve fallen, sir.” In fact, he’d pulled her down when he fell.

“Not—fallen—” He was struggling for air. “Shot,” he whispered. “Take cover, milady.”

But all Kendra heard was “shot.” She didn’t even know what that meant. “I-I don’t understand, sir.”

“Go!” His fingers squeezed her arm. She could barely comprehend him for all the commotion. Men were screaming orders, running in all directions. “Go,” he said again in a strangled tone. His grip relaxed, his eyes went blank.

“Mr. Thomas?” Her eyes, then her fingers, strayed to a large dark stain spreading across his waistcoat; warm moisture, thicker than water, saturated her white glove.
Blood
. “Mr. Thomas, please...” Unbearable pain squeezed her chest. She couldn’t breathe.

He was dead. There would be no studying of Latin texts in the morning. No reading lessons. No bantering about the “b” and the “d” looking so similar yet different.

Suddenly she was jerked to her feet. “Hide, missy! There’s pirates climbin’ aboard.” The boatswain shoved her toward the companionway.

She ran, tripped on the stairs, tumbled to the bottom, crawled to her feet, and kept running.

****

The first blast had Joseph crouching down into a most ungainly position. “What the hell!” he bit out, confused. The ship heaved, precariously. It was a man’s frantic scream that had the terror surging though his blood, firing him into action.

He rushed through the passage and up the companionway.

In a matter of moments, he heard the captain bellowing, “Pirates!” Men scrambled about, haphazardly in all directions, no rhyme, no order.

“All hands on deck!”

“To arms!”

Sickening dread surged through him. A second explosion rocked the boat, throwing him hard against the bulkhead. Immobilized by fear, Joseph froze, but only for an instant. He hustled back the way he’d come and noted the faces of his fellow companions: Confusion, anxiety, trepidation.

He spoke softly. “I realize this may be impossible, but you need to remain calm.” It was their only hope, if they had any at all. “Might I suggest you retreat to your cabins as quickly and quietly as possible.”

The horror in Niccòlo’s young face would haunt him forever. But, like his older brother Alessandro, the man did not give in to his fear. Niccòlo nodded once, and began organizing the group firmly, his efforts keeping them relatively composed.

Dear God, Kendra!

He had to find Kendra.

Joseph darted up on deck near the stern. A lit clay pot rolled nearby.
Powder flasks.
Joseph dove for cover. Bits of iron and glass exploded above his head. Fires lighted the sky on both the fore and main topsails. Keeping low and in what shadows he could find, Joseph searched.

A futile endeavor amid the chaos.

A sickening lurch punched his gut at the first clash of metals.

He scanned the faces of the fighters. No one held her in their grasp. That meant one of two things. She was lying dead somewhere or had somehow escaped the deck and hidden below. He prayed for the latter.

Joseph would do her no good if he got himself gutted. He edged his way to the passage, stepping over carnage. The crew was putting up a good fight. Joseph was able to scavenge a cutlass and a flintlock pistol along the way. His body screamed to run, but that would draw attention. He had to find Kendra. Thomas would be no match against the raiders—he tripped.

Terror halted any remaining coherence. The contents of Joseph’s stomach threatened rebellion, but he swallowed back the bile. Thomas would indeed be helping no one. He lay flat on his back, blood pooled at his belly, eyes wide. Joseph leaned down, offered a short prayer, and passed his hand over Charles Thomas’s eyes to close them.