The Pirate's Widow (6 page)

  
“Apparently a ship was driven aground by the
storm.
 
They’re going down to salvage
what they can of the ship and its cargo.”

  
“I want to go!
 
Please, Callie, please!”

  
“Go along, then, I suppose they’ll not
notice one more.
 
But stay out of trouble
and don’t aggravate anyone.”

  
“Finn will likely be there,” he called back,
already taking to his heels.

  
“I hope so,” Callie murmured.

It was several hours
later before Jem returned, laden with booty, Cyrus running beside him.
 
Finn was close behind him and the three of
them were covered in dust. Dumping his treasures on the sand beside her, he
showed her a deck prism, one of the heavy glass prisms laid flush with the
decks of ships to provide light in the dark cabins below, a handsome carved
box, and a cane with a chased gold handle shaped like a bear’s head.

  
“Where have you been?” Callie demanded.
 
“You didn’t get all this dust on you
scavenging on the seashore.”

  
Jem laughed.
 
“We were in a tomb.”

  
“A tomb?”
 
Callie fixed Finn with a disapproving eye.
 
“Grave robbing, Finn?”

  
Finn and Jem laughed.
 
“Not grave robbing,” Jem told her.
 
“The tunnels, under the cliff, one of them
comes up in old Lady Sedgewyck’s tomb in the church.”

  
“You’re joking.”

  
“She’s not in there.”

  
“She’s buried in the crypt with her
husband,” Finn told Callie.
 
“The tomb
was built to cover the entrance of the tunnel by the parson of the time.
 
He used to hide his smuggler’s goods in the
tomb from the revenue men.”

  
“Good lord.”

  
“This one’s a natural,” Finn told her,
nodded at Jem, “fast as lightning.”

  
Callie knew she could not object to Jem’s
joining the salvagers, after all, did they not occasionally go to visit the
crypt of the abandoned church where Kit had left his store of pirate’s
treasure?
 
Those were stolen goods as
well, though taken after a chase and, often a battle—to the victor go the
spoils and all that—while this seemed somehow like a pack of vultures
scavenging a helpless corpse.

  
“Were there any survivors?” she asked.

  
Finn shook his head.
 
“Not among the crew; their bodies washed up
and were taken away by the authorities.
 
As for the passengers . . .” He shrugged.
 
“There’s no way of knowing; it was a
transport ship bound for America.
 
If any
of the convicts made it to shore, they’d not have lingered.”

  
“I suppose not.”

  
Finn swung down the heavy bag he carried
slung over his shoulder.
 
He rummaged
inside it and brought out a spyglass of brass and rosewood and held it out to
her.

  
“Here, take it to keep an eye on this young
scamp,” he told her.

  
“Thank you,” Callie said, taking the
spyglass from him.
 
“Will you come
in?
 
Perhaps you could stay to dinner.”

  
“That’s kind of you,” he said, “but I want
to get this lot home.
 
Another time?”

  
“Another time, then,” she agreed.

  
He paused while Jem gathered his loot and disappeared
into the cottage.
 
“I’ve spoken to the
butcher,” he told Callie softly, “and he’s willing to save a puppy for the
lad.
 
I’ve picked out a fine one who
looks a lot like his dad, the randy old beggar.”
 
He gave Cyrus a fond look and the dog wagged
his tail.

  
“Have you told Jem?”

  
Finn shook his head.
 
“When the pup’s ready to leave his mam, I’ll
bring him round as a surprise for him, if that’s agreeable.”

   
“Very agreeable, thank you, Finn,” Callie
said.

  
He nodded and they gazed at one another for
a long, silent moment before Finn swung his bag back up onto his shoulder.
 
“Well, I’d best be getting home.
 
Good day to you, Mrs. Jenkins.”

  
Callie laughed.
 
“Good day yourself, Mr. Blount.”

  
Finn chuckled and turned away and, with a
soft whistle for Cyrus, moved away down the beach, the heavy bag of his
salvager’s prizes swinging on his back.

Chapter Six

  
“Ma’am,” Gemma called, “there’s a cart
outside full of ladies.”

  
“Ladies?”
 
Callie went to the window.
 
“Oh,
it’s Mademoiselle La Salle, the dressmaker, but what is she doing here?
 
I expected her to send me a message when my
dress was finished.”

  
A knock on the front door took them both to
the entrance by the parlor.
 
Callie
opened the door and the young dressmaker stepped inside followed by three other
young women all laden down with boxes.

  
“Good morning, Madame,” she said with a
bright smile for Callie.

  
“What is all this?” Callie asked, as the
boxes soon covered every available surface in the parlor and the three
assistants went back to the cart for more.

  
“Your new winter clothes, Madame.”

  
“I bespoke one gown,” Callie reminded her.

  
“Yes, I know, Madame.”

  
Mademoiselle La Salle went from box to box
pulling off the lids and the room was soon awash with silks and wool and damask
of every color, some beautifully embroidered some trimmed with exquisite lace,
as well as frothy undergarments, corsets and petticoats and shifts and delicate
nightdresses.
  
One of the assistants
struggled in with a larger box that held two capes, a long one in deep burgundy
velvet and another in a rich royal blue both sumptuously lined in fur.

  
Callie went to one box and ran her hand over
a deep blue velvet gown with a jeweled clasp at the center of the neckline
whose stones looked suspiciously real.
 
She turned back to the dressmaker and her assistants who stood before
her, expectant smiles on their faces.

  
“Sir Thomas,” she said simply.

  
Mademoiselle La Salle nodded.
 
“He came into my shop the same day you
bespoke your gown.
 
He was delighted that
you were coming out of mourning, Madame, and said you must have more than one
gown.
 
He looked through my fabrics and
chose these.
 
As you see, I had to take
on assistants to have them all ready by now.
 
We’ve been sewing night and day.”

  
Callie sighed.
 
“I am sorry, Mademoiselle, but you will have
to pack them all up again.
 
I cannot
accept such a gift.”

 
To her surprise, the dressmaker burst into
great, heaving sobs and collapsed into the arms of her assistants.

  
“But you cannot refuse them, Madame, I beg
you!
 
What would I do with them?
 
Sir Thomas will be so angry and if he is
angry with me no one in the village will patronize by shop and I shall be
ruined!”

  
Callie went to Gemma’s side as she stood in
the doorway between the parlor and the small dining room.
 
“What am I to do?
 
If I accept such a gift Sir Thomas is certain
to think I welcome his attentions.
 
If I
refuse them, it is true; Mademoiselle La Salle will be ruined.”

  
“I think you have to take them, ma’am,”
Gemma reasoned.
 
“Sir Thomas is not a man
you want as an enemy.”

  
Callie sighed.
 
“Well, I’m not going to marry the man just so
he won’t be angry with me.
 
But I don’t
want to be the cause of someone’s ruin either.
 
Very well, Mademoiselle, I will accept the gowns.”

 
 
The
young dressmaker smiled through her tears.
 
“Bless you, Madame.”

 
The following Sunday, Callie went to church
with the Miss Sophie and Miss Penelope. Both were surprised and pleased to see
her out of mourning.
 
As she scooted
aside to make room for Callie in the pony cart, Miss Sophie asked
excitedly:
 
“Is it true, my dear, that
Sir Thomas has commissioned Mademoiselle LaSalle to make you a new
wardrobe?
 
Is this one of the gowns?
 
Everyone is talking of it.
 
They are saying it is a wardrobe fit for a
queen . . . or at least the wife of a baronet.”
 
She giggled.

 
Callie had worn the blue silk damask gown
which was the one she herself had chosen.
 

  
“It is true that Sir Thomas had Mademoiselle
LaSalle make me a new wardrobe,” she admitted, “but this is the gown I bespoke
myself when I went decided to come out of mourning.
 
I wish he had not.
 
There is no understanding between us, Miss
Sophie.
 
I do not know why Sir Thomas
should have made such a gift to me.”

 
“Don’t you, my dear?” Miss Penelope asked.
 
“Perhaps he has plans.
 
In any case, they say his mother-in-law is
mightily out of humor over it.”
                                                          

  
When they reached the church, they found Sir
Thomas already there, standing by the lych gate.
 
The elderly sisters greeted him then went on
ahead into the church leaving him and Callie alone.
 

  
Sir Thomas’ dark eyes swept over
Callie.
 
“I am happy to see you out of
mourning, Caroline,” he said.
 
“But I do
not recall choosing this fabric.”

  
“No, Sir Thomas, this is the gown I myself
bespoke when I went to see Mademoiselle LaSalle that day.”

  
“Was there something amiss with the others?”

  
“Nothing at all, they are beautiful.
 
It is only that I do not know why you should
have given them to me.”

  
“I was pleased to hear that you were coming
out of mourning and a beautiful woman should have beautiful things to wear.”

  
“I fear your gift has given rise to gossip
in the village.”

  
He laughed.
 
“It does not take much to give rise to gossip in the village.
 
They love to whisper about the activities of
their betters.”

  
“I do not like being the subject of false
rumor and it seems your gift has made them think there is some understanding
between us.”

  
“Is it so difficult to imagine that there might
be an understanding eventually?”

  
“Sir Thomas, if I have given you reason to
believe—.”

  
“Come, Caroline,” he said, taking her gloved
hand and linking in into the crook of his arm.
 
“The service is about to start.
 
Would you do me the honor of sitting with me in my family pew?”

  
“Which will fan the flames of rumors.”

   
“For what do we exist but to entertain
others?”

  
“Mrs. Louvain and her daughter are not here
today.”

  
“No.
 
Venetia was not feeling herself today and Flora remained at home to care
for her mother.
  
Come.”

  
As Sir Thomas and Callie walked down the
aisle toward the Sedgewyck family pew, Callie could feel the eyes of the
congregation following them.
 
When she
brought Jem to live here in this isolated place she meant for them to live
quietly, privately, attracting no attention that could give rise to rumors and
curiosity.
 
How could she hope to live
quietly when the richest, most powerful man in the area was paying her such
marked attention?

  
And another, even more unwelcome thought
occurred to her as she stood beside Sir Thomas while the congregation sang the
first hymn.
 
What must Finn think of Sir
Thomas’ generosity?
 
She hadn’t seen him
for several days.
 
Was he avoiding
her?
 
Did he think she could be bought by
a man she hardly knew for the price of a few pretty dresses?

  
“You are taking this all too seriously, my
dear,” Sir Thomas whispered, as the Reverend Mr. Dougless took his place at the
pulpit.

  
“Am I?” she asked.
 
“I am the subject of gossip and rumor, sir,
much of it I am sure less than savory.
 
Are my favors to be purchased for . . .?”

  
“Your favors?” he interrupted.
 
“Have I asked for your favors, Caroline?”

  
Callie felt a flush creeping into her cheeks.
 
“No, but . . .”

  
“I am not so vulgar, my dear, as to think to
buy my way into your bed.”

  
“Sir Thomas!”

 
“Well, that is what you seem to think I have
in mind.
 
Or what you fear the village
gossips may believe.
 
I do assure you if
I think to become more than your friend, I will rely on more respectable means
to earn your regard.
 
For now, let us
have done with this worrying and call the gowns what they are, a gift from a
friend.”

  
“A very generous friend.”

  
He shrugged.
 
“I am a very wealthy man, Caroline.
 
In the scheme of things they were not as generous as someone like you
might think.”

  
Callie said no more wondering what Sir
Thomas would think if he knew she had a cache of pirate’s treasure at her
disposal.
 
In the crypt of the abandoned
chapel where Kit had hidden only one of many treasures, awaited an Aladdin’s
Cave of gold and jewels and beautiful objects
 
the combined worth of which must surely rival whatever wealth Sir Thomas
Sedgewyck possessed.
 

 
Still, as she sat there beside him, Callie
could not help wondering what it would be like to be the lady of Sedgewyck
Manor.
 
Surely being the wife of a man as
rich and powerful as Sir Thomas must afford her and Jem the greatest protection
for she could never quite put it from her mind that there still existed a death
warrant with her name on it and one for Jem who’d been tried in absentia.
 
He’d be hanged as
well
 
at
least be transported to the
colonies and condemned to years of servitude.
 
But if she transformed herself into Caroline, Lady Sedgewyck, the
authorities would never imagine she had once ridden in a tumbril through London
only to cheat the hangman at the last moment.

  
“Caroline?”

  
She looked up at Sir Thomas.
 
“I am sorry, you were saying?”

  
“I hope you will come back to the manor with
me after church.”

  
“I should get home to Jem,” she demurred.

  
“Jem will be fine; Gemma is there, is she
not?”

  
“A short visit, perhaps,” she agreed.

  
When the service ended, the congregation
waited respectfully for Sir Thomas to exit the church, Callie’s hand securely
held in the crook of his arm.
 
They
paused to speak to the reverend who stood just inside the vestibule.

  
“I am glad to see you out of mourning,” he
told Callie.
 
“No doubt your late husband
would not wish you to be in perpetual black, as young as you are.”

  
“My late husband believed mourning was done
with the heart, Reverend,” Callie replied.
 
“He believed the trappings of mourning were merely a show for others as
if we needed to prove our grief to others.”

  
“Well, he, no doubt, approves of your
decision, then.”

  
“I’m certain he is looking down upon us with
a smile on his face,” she told him.

  
“I meant to pay a visit,” he said, “to
enquire as to whether you have considered sending your son to my school at the parsonage.”

  
“I have been used to seeing to his education
myself since our travels took us to such distant places.
 
We have never been settled in one place until
now.”

  
“You should think about it.
 
He would be with boys his own age and not
keep company with, shall we say, the more questionable elements in the
district?”