Captive Innocence (30 page)

“There will be much trouble when the Baron finds out you have brought my child to me, Senora.”

“Yes, there will be much trouble, but I'm the one who will make it. You need have no fear, no one, I repeat, no one will ever take that child from you again. You have my word.”

Royall leaned over and kissed the small, dark face. “Mind you, take as good care of your mama as you did of me,” she warned the little girL Nessie nodded soberly. With a wave of her hand, Royall rode from the clearing.

Tears scalded her eyes, making it impossible to see the horse that rode into the courtyard from the opposite side of the Casa. Nor did she see the dark eyes gaze longingly at her retreating back. She was too far away to hear the words the housekeeper spoke to Sebastian of the golden girl with tear-filled eyes and of the kiss she had given, oh so tenderly, to her little Nessie. “It would be a lucky man who could share a kiss with such a golden girl,” Anna said happily as she cuddled Nessie in her arms.

 

Back at the Reino, Royall faced Elena. “You know, don't you? You know that Jamie raped Rosy!” At Elena's nod, Royall felt anger chum within her. “What are you going to do about it?” she demanded coldly.

“I don't know, Senora. I have to think. The Baron isn't here. I can hardly take matters into my own hands. Jamie isn't a child; he's a young man.”

“A young man who just raped a small child! Don't stand there and tell me you have to wait for the Baron to come home. From what I understand, he may never come back to the plantation. I want Jamie locked in his room, and I want Moriah moved into my room immediately. She'll stay with me until tomorrow when I take her back to the Rivera plantation. Don't even contemplate telling me I can't do it. I did it and I'll do it again. If you won't do anything, I'll do it myself. Well?”

“Jamie is in his room. I'm not as uncaring or as unfeeling as you may think, Senora. Jamie is ... has been like a son to me. I'll do what has to be done. I suggest you go to your room and let me get on with dinner. One of the servants will bring trays to your room for you and Moriah. I want your word that you will stay in your room till I tell you to come out. Your word, Senora.”

“Very well, Elena, I'll do as you say, but I want you to send a messenger to Manaus to the Baron. I want him to know about this. If he chooses not to return, then I will take matters into my own hands. I want your word on that matter, Elena.”

“Yes, Senora. I'll have a messenger sent out at once.”

As always, Royall felt herself dismissed from the housekeeper's presence. This time she was only too glad to go to her room. Thank God, Moriah was safe. The child would be delighted when she hears that she will be going home.

How tired she was, how depressed. If only she could have gotten just one glimpse of Sebastian.

All evening long Royall cringed in the high, wide bed. The angry sound of drums beating through the jungle was setting her into a frenzy. Moriah's words did nothing to alleviate her apprehension: “The drums say there will be a death in the jungle tonight.”

Elena sat down on a hard-backed chair. Her head throbbed unmercifully. How had it come to this? When had things gone wrong? The day Royall Banner arrived at the plantation, she answered herself. I knew it the moment she stepped over the threshhold that things were going to change, and not for the better. Such turmoil. Do this, do that, don't do this, don't do that, where was it going to end. Was the Baron going to come back to the plantation? She had to send a messenger as the Senora requested. She couldn't ignore the problem any longer; she would have to do as the young American woman instructed.

On lagging feet, Elena walked to the courtyard in search of one of the stable boys. Quickly and concisely, she explained exactly what he was to say to the Baron. “You are to return with the Baron and see that he ... that he arrives safely.” No need to tell the boy that the Baron might be drunk and he was needed as a chaperone on the long ride to the plantation. “You must be careful when you speak of Jamie. Just say that his presence is needed because of Jamie. Say no more. That is what you were told, and you are merely delivering . the message,” Elena admonished. The boy nodded and scampered off to the stables to saddle a horse.

If only she could think straight, get her thoughts together. There was something else she had to do. What was it? Dinner! Of course, even a dolt would have remembered. As if by rote, she set about preparing thick, pink slices of ham. Snowy white rice bubbled merrily as she shelled peas. The inevitable sliced fruit with sugar and cream would be dessert. There was no time for pastry, and her heart wouldn't be in preparing the flaky dough, not today.

The cook appeared at Elena's side. “Soon,” Elena murmured, “and then you will take two trays to the Senora's room. I'll see to Master Jamie myself. Pour the cream and slice the fruit.” The woman stared at Elena. Something was wrong. The housekeeper was acting strangely, as though she didn't care about the dinner at all. Where was the butter for the peas? Why was there no lid on the rice pot? And there were no flowers for the trays, something the housekeeper always saw to herself. Where were the pretty napkins, and where were the dishes? Something was wrong. She sniffed a moment and then hurried over to the stove. She heaved a mighty sigh as she removed the heavy skillet from the stove. Just in time or the luscious pink ham would have burned. Elena didn't even notice. She didn't notice when the cook reappeared a moment later with a handful of delicate scarlet blooms to be put in the small vases on the shelf. Perhaps the housekeeper would scold her later, but she doubted it. In plain view of Elena's unseeing gaze she arranged the trays and added the flowers and the colorful napkins. It looked just as elegant as if Elena herself had done it. Pleased with herself and what she had just accomplished, she set about ladling out the food on the plates. Gently, she touched Elena's shoulder and waited for her nod of approval. Twice she had to repeat her gentle nudge before the housekeeper could bring her eyes to focus on the tempting looking trays. She smiled wanly and said, “You did fine, Maria. Now take the trays to the Senora's room. I'll take Master Jamie's to him in a moment.”

There was no choice left to her. Senora Banner was right; something had to be done, and it had to be done now before the Baron returned. She looked a moment longer at the tray. Satisfied that everything was placed exactly right, she picked up the tray and left the kitchen. Her walk was stately, her eyes straight ahead, until she reached Jamie's room. Deftly, she balanced the tray in one hand and withdrew a large key from her apron pocket.

“It's about time, Elena. I thought you were never going to bring my food to me. I don't like it when you lock me in my room. I'm going to tell father. I want you to bring my soldiers to me,” Jamie said petulantly.

Elena sat the tray down on a small table. “I want you to eat your dinner, Jamie. Later, I'll get your soldiers. I don't think they can be fixed, but I can try. Why did you break the heads off the soldiers?”

“Oh, Elena, sometimes I don't know why you say the things you do; I didn't break the heads off my soldiers. I wouldn't do anything to hurt my soldiers. You should know that,” Jamie scoffed as he wolfed down his food.

“I never thought you would hurt anyone, Jamie.”

“Elena, why are you talking so strangely? Who did I hurt? This rice tastes funny. Change it, Elena, I don't want it.”

“Eat it,” Elena said firmly.

“All right, but I don't like it.”

“Why did you hurt Rosy?”

Jamie stopped his voracious chewing and lowered his eyes to his plate. “I didn't hurt her. She's nothing but an Indian brat. She told on me, didn't she? That's why you gave me this rice. You're punishing me,” he accused.

“You need to be punished for what you did. What you did was a bad thing, Jamie. Rosy's father and some of the other Indian men from the Rivera plantation will come here and want to punish you.”

“Is that why you're punishing me with the rice, so they won't come here? That's very clever of you, Elena. Father won't let some old Indian men hurt me.”

“Your father isn't here, Jamie, you know that. I've sent for him, but he won't arrive till very late.” If he arrives at all, Elena added to herself.

“You can make it right, can't you, Elena? You won't let the Indians hurt me, will you?” Jamie picked at his peas and then rolled them off the plate. He watched as they rolled to the floor. “Say you won't let them hurt me, Elena,” he whined.

“I'm going to make it right, Jamie. No one is ever going to hurt you. I've always taken care of you. You know I love you, like you were my own son. You trust me, don't you, Jamie?” Her voice was low, tormented, as she waited for Jamie to respond.

Jamie laughed in delight. “I'm not afraid of some old Indian men. I know you love me. I love you too. Do you love me enough to bring my soldiers to me?”

“Perhaps later, Jamie. I want you to finish your dinner now. I'll just sit here and wait till you're done.” Obediently, Jamie cleaned his plate and attacked the sliced fruit with his spoon.

“Now, take your tray over to the door and set it outside.”

“Now, will you get the soldiers? I ate all of the rice so you don't have to punish me anymore.”

“Come with me. I want you to look out at the gardens to see how beautiful they are. I want you to remember them.”

“Why? Are we going on a trip? Father didn't say anything about a trip. Can I take my soldiers with me?”

Elena swallowed hard and maneuvered Jamie to the wide double doors that looked over the garden. “A trip? In a manner of speaking, Jamie. And of course your soldiers can go with you. They're part of you. Tell me now, what do you think of the garden?”

Jamie shrugged. “Where are we going?”

Elena turned to face Jamie. “To a kind of wondrous place, Jamie. I've never been there, but there's no pain where you're going. Everything will be peaceful. You'll never be punished again.”

“It sounds like a fairyland. When are we going?”

Elena stood face to face with Jamie. Lightly she cupped both her hands around his handsome head. Lightly she kissed him first on one cheek and then on the other. Her throat was like a thin rag as the words ripped from her. “I loved you as though you were my own, better than my own. I love you now. I'll always love you, remember that, Jamie.” Her hands dropped to her side. Slowly, she reached into the pocket of her apron and withdrew her sharp paring knife. Her eyes locked with Jamie's as she plunged the blade into his heart. “Now, Jamie, you're leaving now.”

Jamie's eyes widened in disbelief as he slumped to the floor. Elena stared down at him, tears coursing down her cheeks. “Forgive me, Jamie. I couldn't let Rosy's father take you away. He and the others would come as soon as night falls. I couldn't let them take you, I just couldn't let that happen to you.”

How beautiful he looked in death. How innocent.

She had things to do. Pick up the trays, wash the dishes, clean the kitchen. Send a boy to the Rivera plantation with a message telling of Jamie's death. Only when she was finished would she allow herself the luxury of readying Jamie's body for burial. When that was finished she would wait for the Baron.

Soon the beat of the jungle drums would abate. The silence would then be thunderous. One way or another, the jungle always won. It was a fact of life that she had lived with. Only this time she couldn't let the jungle win, not with Jamie. She had been his accuser, she had judged, and it was she who found him guilty and meted out his punishment. This time she had beat the jungle by a hairbreadth.

Royall watched in amazement as Moriah gobbled down her food. Just the thought of eating the food on her plate made her ill. She couldn't swallow if her life depended on it.

The house was quiet. Too quiet. Usually around this time of day a certain amount of bustle was going on. The stables were being readied for the night, with the young boys chattering away in the courtyard as they came to the kitchen for their dinner. The little maids were giggling and rattling dishes in the pantry. Today there was only silence. Just the sound of the jungle drums, permeating the air outside her room. The sound was loud, then muted, and always ominous. Who was going to die in the jungle tonight? Who? Royall shivered as she watched Moriah set her empty fruit dish back on the tray. The child looked inquisitively at Royall. “I'm finished, Moriah. You can place the trays outside the door. Come right back inside and I'll read you a long story until you fall asleep. Tomorrow is a big day for you. You're going home!”

Moriah's shoe button black eyes danced merrily. “I see me madre tomorrow.”

“Yes, you will. Bright and early, at first light. So, you have to go to sleep early tonight so you look especially pretty for your mother.”

“I not pretty, Senora,” Moriah giggled.

“Little one, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I say you're one of the most beautiful little girls I've ever seen, and to your mother you will be the most beautiful child in all the world.” And she was, with her dark eyes and honey skin. Satiny ebony hair hung down to her waist. Small pearl white teeth glistened as the little girl brought her hand to her mouth to stifle another giggle.

“You read about princess and prince? I like that much,” Moriah smiled as she settled herself comfortably in the huge bed. “I like much when prince says to princess, you skin like cream.” She held out one chubby mocha-colored hand for Royall's inspection. Royall laughed in delight.

Within minutes Moriah's eyes closed, and she slept. Royall scrambled from the bed and ran to the balcony. Why did she have this strange feeling? What was wrong? Why was the house so quiet? A vision of Elena's somber face rose before her. And the promise she had extracted from Royall not to leave her room till she sent for her. Now, why had she given her promise? Something was wrong. Wait. All she could do was wait for Elena to come for her.

 

Elena bent down and knelt beside Jamie's still form. She felt nothing, no love, no compassion, no remorse. With a strength she didn't know she possessed, she lifted Jamie's body and placed him on the bed. She didn't feel the least exertion at lifting him. She felt nothing as she began the morbid task of readying Jamie's body for its last resting place. Thoughts of what was to come clouded her reactions at hand. Call Father Juan. Notify the men that they were to dig the grave. It would be in the small clearing that she herself tended each day, that served as a cemetery. Jamie would lie beside his mother, the mother he never knew.

Tenderly, she bent to wash his face. Years of loving welled in her throat. Loving Jamie had filled her life, brought meaning to it. Not only had she ended Jamie's life, but her own as well. She continued with her methodical sponging. How beautiful he was. Carefully, she dressed him in his best suit and a snowy white shirt. Her task complete, she stood beside the bed looking down at him. In repose, his resemblance to Carlyle was astounding. Her mind spit out the name as though it were some obscene word crafted by the devil himself. Why wouldn't he admit to Jamie's disability? He had always insisted that Jamie be treated as a man, and she had tried to comply. Deep in her heart she knew she was wrong, but she was helpless to change things. She had done her best. It hadn't been enough. Nothing could change the fact that in Jamie's manlike body lived the mind of a small boy. Nothing and no one could ever change that fact.

Her duties ended, Elena gathered up the washbasin and urn and placed them outside the door. She retraced her steps to the side of the bed. She placed a tender kiss on the cold brow. “I'll wait here with you, Jamie, till the sound of the drums stop.” Primly, she settled herself on a low settee. She folded her hands and closed her eyes. She prayed.

Elena's eyes flicked open. The silence was deafening. The drums had ceased their pulsing beat. The heart of the jungle was quiet now. It was over. “Soon,” she whispered softly, “soon, Jamie, I will witness the end of your father's cruel reign. His kingdom is about to fall into ashes at his very feet. His end is near. Shortly he will join you. I will revel in his death just as I once reveled in the feel of his arms about me. Soon, Jamie, my love.”

 

Royall opened the door and placed her fingers to her lips. “Moriah is asleep. Is everything all right, Elena. Why have the drums stopped? Tell me, I know something is wrong!”

“Come with me, Senora, and you will see why the drums have stopped.” Puzzled, Royall followed Elena to Jamie's room. Fear knotted in her throat as she followed the housekeeper into the lamp-lit room. She was more puzzled when she noticed Jamie asleep, fully clothed. “That is why the drums have ceased. Jamie is gone.”

Royall felt dazed. Had Elena just said Jamie was gone? That meant he was . . . dead. “How?” she gasped.

Elena turned to face Royall. “He disobeyed me and rode into the jungle. The horse stumbled and Jamie was thrown. His neck was broken in the fall. He was not equipped to ride the gelding.”

Royall stared deeply into the housekeeper's eyes. There was no need for words. She understood. She stared at Elena for a full moment longer. “You're right, Elena, Jamie was not equipped to ride the gelding.” For one brief instant Royall read relief in the housekeeper's eyes. “Both of us will carry this secret to the grave, Elena.” Elena nodded.

Royall was dismissed. Elena was in another world now, a world of her own choosing. She would sit sentinel over Jamie until dawn, when he would be buried. The tightening in her breast became a strangulating knot in her constricted throat. Admiration for Elena's courage, and pity for poor Jamie, as well as outrage at his crime, became a jumble within her. She had to get out of this room before she suffocated. Moriah was safe now. She could walk outdoors in the courtyard and not have to worry about the child. She needed to clear her head of the cobwebs that were hindering her thoughts. If only Sebastian were here to help me. Her world was crumbling beneath her very feet. Soon there would be nothing left. Nothing at all.

 

A low, gray mist hung over the small cemetery on the hill. Heavy dew on the foliage sparkled like diamonds in the misty, humid air. Poor innocent Jamie, poor wicked Jamie. A boy locked within a man's body, outgrowing a world of toy soldiers and pretend. She was thankful he was dead by Elena's loving hand rather than the vengeance of the Indians. Killing a white man could have been the beginning of an uprising, Father Juan had said this morning when he arrived. It was just as well that Jamie had had his accident in the jungle.

All through the long, sleepless night, Royall had wrestled with her emotions. The hours before dawn had also taken their toll on Elena. How cold she looked, as though all the blood had drained from her veins. It had. Jamie had been her life, and now he was gone.

Royall expected to see the Baron riding up at any moment, demanding an explanation from Elena. He should be here; it was barbaric of him not to attend his son's funeral. It should be the Baron being laid in the wet, cold ground. His own ignorance had become his son's destruction.

“... dust to dust,” Father Juan finished his short eulogy. Elena stood still, her eyes never leaving the deep, black hole. There were no tears, no remorse, only total acceptance.

The moment Father Juan finished his short blessing, Royall turned to leave. Would Elena stay or follow her? Would Father Juan come back to the Casa for breakfast, as was the custom after a funeral? Her step slowed. Once she looked over her shoulder. Elena hadn't moved. Father Juan was walking away from the clearing toward the path that would take him to his waiting buggy. Royall debated with herself—should she wait for Elena or should she return to the house? She knew somehow that the housekeeper would consider it an intrusion if she walked back to the gravesite. Never in her life had she seen anyone look so alone as Elena looked at that moment. Nothing helped, not even Father Juan's whispered words to Elena: “Time heals all wounds. He takes care of all his children. Time, Elena, always remember what I'm telling you.”

Now she had to clean Moriah up and take her back to the Rivera plantation. Some of the happiness had worn off with the death of Jamie. Still, the child, small as she was, seemed to understand.

 

Though the day was hot and sultry, Carlyle Newsome felt a chill run through his body as he hurried down the street to his pink bricked townhouse. It was midday, and as in the axiom, only mad dogs and Englishmen went out in the noonday sun. So it was with surprise that he saw Sebastian Rivera and Malcolm Doyle, a neighbor, deep in conversation. Eager as he was to enter his house and find some relief from the heat, Carlyle turned quickly on his heel and proceeded to stride down a side street, away from Sebastian's notice.

Ever since that day when he'd come back to the townhouse and found Alicia gone, Carlyle had lived with a growing anxiety. At first he hadn't the least idea where she had gone, or to whom, and when no news was heard of her for several days, he'd come to the conclusion that she'd drowned herself in the river or found some other tidy way of alleviating him of the increasing discontent she was causing.

And then had come the night at the opera and the party Rosalie Quince had given in Royall Banner's honor, and he'd seen her again—with Rivera. And from the menacing disgust he'd witnessed in Rivera's glance, it was evident the stupid girl had confided in him. Carlyle had expected a confrontation with his nemesis at that time, but the announcement of yellow jack had forestalled it. Now, seeing Rivera on the street, only yards away from his townhouse, the Baron knew the inevitable was upon him.

Droplets of perspiration beaded the Baron's brow. His armpits were soaking wet, as was his back. It was madness to walk in the sun this way, but it was even madder to make himself available to Rivera's tirade. His head ached, his stomach rolled, and he told himself he needed another drink. Not for anything would he admit that Rivera frightened him.

He had to keep walking and stop thinking. He had to concentrate on making it around the block, getting into his townhouse without Rivera seeing him, finding the bottle of Scotch and taking it to bed with him. Gloom plagued him as he walked; anxiety ate at his innards. Even Rivera wouldn't be bastard enough to tell anyone about Alicia. Regardless of the man's hatred for the Newsomes, he would still protect Alicia's reputation, wouldn't he? Then what was Rivera doing on his street? And what was he talking to Malcolm Doyle about?

Once more around the block and back to the beginning of the street. Perhaps if he was careful he could meander between the buildings to see if Sebastian and old man Doyle were still deep in conversation.

The corner to be turned loomed ahead. The Baron drew on his willpower not to turn for one last look in Sebastian's direction.

Sebastian carried his end of the conversation with Doyle, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what he had said just seconds ago. The cheroot clenched between his strong white teeth tasted bitter as he transferred it from the right to the left side of his mouth. His steely gaze followed Carlyle Newsome's back as he trekked down the street in front of the long row of townhouses. He heard himself refusing, for the third time, Doyle's invitation into the house for a cool drink, and knew the conversation was drawing to a close.

Sebastian watched the old man enter his house. Christ, he had thought he was going to stand in the sun and talk the day away. His dark eyes searched the deserted street. The wily fox no doubt was going to circle the block once again. Well, two could play at that game.

Tossing the frayed tip cheroot into the gutter, he sprinted down the block and up the steep front steps of the Newsome townhouse. Forcefully, he let the knocker sound against the brass plate. The door was opened almost immediately. “I have an appointment with Baron Newsome,” he said, pushing past the startled housekeeper. “I'll wait inside until he arrives. Fetch me a brandy while I wait.” Authoritatively, bridging no objection, he stepped across the foyer and into the parlor. “I'll, wait in here.”

The housekeeper let her eyes flick over Sebastian and then to the front door. Quickly she backed away, out of his line of vision, and headed back to the kitchen.

Sebastian brought a match to a fresh cheroot and puffed deeply. A billowing cloud of fragrant smoke permeated the room. The brandy snifter found its way to his lips, and he nodded appreciatively. Carlyle certainly didn't stint himself when it came to the finer things of life like expensive cigars and good brandy.

As Sebastian's eyes traveled the perimeters of the room, he found himself admiring the tasteful decorations and furnishings. He had expected nothing less, since it was well known that the Baron liked to surround himself with beautiful things. And beautiful women. He couldn't think about Royall now, not here in this madman's house. He was only grateful for the fact that the Baron had remained here in Manaus rather than return to the plantation. From what he knew about Alicia, no woman was safe around him.

Just the thought of another man touching Royall brought Sebastian to his feet, his face convulsed in rage. The Baron! If that weasel so much as touched a hair on her head, he would kill him with bare hands. He would choke the life from his body and laugh while he was doing it! Royall Banner was his! He decreed it!

Rivera's black rage was all the Baron saw when he walked through the foyer into the parlor. At that moment Sebastian was bigger than life, meaner than a cornered rat. Carlyle knew that physically he was no match for the younger half-breed. He'd have to use his brains, his wiles, anything, but he would have to get him o t of the house!