Dark Shadows (19 page)

Jacob waved her apology away. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but first I wish to know
your
name and where you’re from.”

“Why?” Mercy asked, feeling heat on her skin.

“I need to know who you are in order to get you safely home to your family. I know that you are Miss Julia Cavendish,” he said to Julia, who stood and curtsied. He turned to Mercy. “But you I know nothing about. You need to give me some information, like Miss Julia here, so that I can get you home. Believe me, I just want to set this right. You’ve both been through a terrible ordeal.”

“You’ll never set this right,” Mercy said in a voice laced with anger. “But you can help Julia. She is cousin to the Earl of Sussex. Her family is staying in Knightsbridge, London. If you want money, I know for a fact they’ll pay whatever you ask.”

“I assure you that I want no money from anyone.” Jacob’s voice sounded hurt.

Mercy saw the hurt in his eyes. She’d insulted him. God, she was making a mess of things.

Jacob said, “Isaac, my ship’s doctor, is already seeing to Miss Julia’s travel plans, but you – I need to know what we can do for
you
. I’m asking you your name so that I can inform your loved ones that you’re safe. There is no ulterior motive here.”

Mercy couldn’t take her eyes from him, yet she was now unable to speak. She was like the dumb halfwit that lived in her street back home: robbed of speech and brain. What if this man only wanted her name to turn her in? What if Madame du Pont was already telling lies about her? Oh God, what if this man saw her do the things she did last night? She jumped at the sudden sound of his voice.

“I come from Virginia in America, and that’s where I’m headed tomorrow. I’m going home, and that’s all I want for you. I want to help you get home to your families and to your lives.”

Mercy waited for him to tell her she was wanted by the coppers, but he seemed to be done speaking. She took a deep breath. She might be condemning herself to death, but she had to give him answers. She looked at Julia. The girl was going to be shocked and mortified to hear that she’d bathed with a commoner in the same bathtub.

She studied the dark-eyed man with hair as black as her own. He was hypnotising her with those kind eyes that were boring holes into her soul. She had to speak. “Did all the other girls get out? Did they escape too? Did anyone die in the fire?” She needed to know first.

“Your fellow captives are all right. I saw to their release myself.”

Mercy heard herself choke on a sob. She threw her hand to her throat. “I’m sorry. Forgive me. I was so worried about them. We both were.”

Julia nodded.

“When we were looking for you, we found a charred body,” Jacob said.

“You were looking for us?” Mercy heard the words tumble from her mouth.

“We were looking for anyone who might have been trapped upstairs.”

“Oh, I see.”

Jacob continued. “Please don’t think about last night. Just know that I believe all the women in that place were saved from the fire and from Madame du Pont, who will, I assure you, be hunted down and punished. The local coppers would like to ask you a few questions about her and about your experiences. They want to help. Will you speak with them?”

“Speak to coppers? No!” Mercy shouted without thinking. “No, I don’t want to talk about it. Julia has told you everything. It’s all true. Julia, do you want to speak to them?”

“No. I just want to go home, please,” Julia said.

Jacob nodded. “Okay. No one will compel you to answer any questions, but I still need your name,” he told Mercy.

“Mercy – my name is Mercy Carver. I come from the poor side of London, on the wrong side of London Bridge. I have no family and no one to go back to. I’m an orphan. I don’t – didn’t – have employment, and I don’t want to go back to those streets.”

Julia’s mouth was open. She stared at Mercy as though seeing her for the first time. Mercy threw her an apologetic look and refused to look at Jacob. “I’m sorry I’m not from a rich family, Julia. I thought you would have guessed that by now. You all spoke so nicely, and I tried to copy you to fit in. I thought Madame du Pont might kill me if she knew I had no value.”

Mercy then looked at Jacob. His eyes were dark and unfathomable. She thought she saw anger in them. Was he disappointed too?

Julia said, “Mercy, I don’t understand. You’re beautiful, and you had on such a lovely gown – and your hair … I thought you came from a family like my own. You don’t speak as I do, but you looked like a lady. So you mean you’re poor?”

“Looks can be deceiving, but I assure you, I’m not a lady. I’m as common as the muck on my street,” Mercy told her, hurt by Julia’s snobbery. “I’m just a girl from the wrong side of the river who wanted to have tea and look inside St Paul’s Cathedral. There, now you know. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that’s why I was taken.”

Mercy lowered her eyes in shame. She felt as though she’d just committed a crime. She looked up at Julia’s eyes again and noted that they were looking at her in a different light. Her shocked expression had not abated. Mercy’s disappointment in Julia was now turning to anger. “And the dress you talked about – I borrowed it from the local dressmaker. I saved up for a year to have my day. So in answer to your question – yes, Julia, I’m as poor as a church mouse.”

For a moment, there was silence. Mercy fiddled with the bandage on her hand. Why was she surprised? Julia was a spoilt young girl who had probably never cavorted with a commoner in her life. Mercy had no doubt now that her friendship with the young girl was over. She was well aware of her station in life. She was the kind of woman Julia’s family would employ to work in their mansion’s kitchen, not one who would ever be allowed to sit upstairs drinking cups of tea and eat dainty pastries. For just a short time this morning, she had hoped that maybe, just maybe, Julia would ask her to go home with her. But the Julia she’d known, protected, and soothed had gone.

Mercy finally looked at Jacob and saw pity, which felt even worse than Julia’s open display of disappointment. She had to get off this ship now. She didn’t want pity from either of them. “Please, sir, I want to go now. I can look after myself. I’m sure I’ll find employment here in Liverpool. I don’t need your help or anyone else’s, for that matter,” she lied. She had never felt so alone or desperate. “Please just get Julia home. That’s all I ask.”

Jacob looked at Mercy’s tired face and saw fear written across it. She had tried to hide it from him and from Julia, but as she sat there like an innocent, lost child, wide-eyed and apprehensive, he knew instinctively that with nowhere to go, no one to help her, and no funds, she would be doomed to an early death – or worse, forced to become the very thing he had just rescued her from.

“Mercy – might I call you Mercy?” he asked her.

Mercy nodded.

Jacob said tentatively, “My doctor tells me that you have a concussion and that your head is still swollen. You have stitches, which may become infected if not treated properly. I implore you to stay a while longer, at least until tomorrow morning. I can find you some respectable lodgings for a few months and give you funds until you find employment. Allow me to do this for you.”

Mercy’s eyes filled with tears that slid down her cheeks. She’d never heard such kind words or seen so much concern. His character and handsome face were chiselling away at her hard, impenetrable facade. Her strength had always been her greatest ally, but this man’s smile and patient, sensitive character left her nearly breathless. She was left panting in short, sharp bursts.

He was undoing her family’s sacred teachings. They had told her never to feel sorry for herself and never to cry in public during moments of weakness. She had been taught that it was dangerous and unwise to allow another person to see her with her heart on her sleeve. But this man, Jacob Stone, was dragging her heart and soul right out into the open, making her vulnerable and turning her into the same pitiful creature her grandpa had despised for as long as she could remember.

Her mind wandered to the one her grandpa still hated – her father, Thomas. He was continuously blamed for Grandpa Carver’s all-too-frequent angry outbursts. In his eyes, Thomas was a man without strength of character, courage, or will. He’d never forgiven his son. He would go to his grave cursing him for the act of suicide that had gone against everything the Carvers stood for: stoic acceptance of misery, hardship, and poverty. A Carver accepted a life without vision or ambition to raise himself above the trials that God had set him.

Mercy gulped for air, but she could no more control her tears than she could her own self-pity, which was surfacing and overflowing like the river tide in a winter storm. What would it be like and how would it feel, she wondered, to have a man such as Jacob Stone by her side to protect her, displaying kindness towards her every day in deed and word? How lucky she would feel to have those piercing eyes and that handsome face look at her in the morning and at the end of the day. She would probably never know another man like him. She had never been kissed, never been loved, because her grandparents had never allowed her to go anywhere or do anything. She suddenly realised that she had been imprisoned her entire life.

She had always envied the other girls in her street, huddling together and whispering about their dalliances, secret picnics, kisses behind buildings and in the park under shady trees. She had seen the sparkle in their eyes as they spoke about boys they liked. She had never once had that sparkle in her eyes. For fear of punishment, she had never allowed herself to like a boy.

She wiped her tears and realised that she’d been crying for quite some time. She was a pitiful creature. Her head was pounding again. She sat up straight and tried to recuperate the small amount of pride that she still possessed but couldn’t find. She was resolute in her decision never to go back. Forward, she told herself; forward was the only direction she would take from now on.

“Thank you, Mr Stone, for everything, but I really don’t need your charity. I would just like to rest a while longer. My head hurts.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Jacob walked onto the jetty, still thinking about Mercy and wondering how he could help her when she had repeatedly turned down his offers of assistance. She was stubborn and afraid, and she intrigued him even more now. She had fire, ice, and spirit in her veins, yet she was soft and as vulnerable as a kitten. She also had too much pride for her own good.

She was determined not to return to London. It was not his business to ask why she had come to such a steadfast decision. Her young companion, Julia, had not offered Mercy safety or refuge with her aristocratic family. This had disappointed him, but he had not been surprised. The two appeared to be close. Mercy had obviously looked after the young girl during the past couple of weeks, judging by the way Julia had clung to Mercy’s side, yet he understood Julia’s reluctance to take Mercy with her. Mercy would be considered undesirable in Julia’s world. She had no family, no title, and no money. Though her voice was as smooth as honey, her accent was markedly different from Julia’s. Mercy would not be considered a good companion, and she would never be accepted as Julia’s equal.

As he walked towards the
Carrabelle
, late for his reunion with Hendry and Belle, he realised that he was finding it difficult to think about anything other than Mercy Carver. He didn’t want to say goodbye to her at the end of this day. He was neither rash nor impulsive, and he was not a naive, inexperienced man. He was master of a hundred or so slaves and owner of a plantation and two ships, yet he wasn’t capable of dismissing a woman he barely knew from his mind. Mercy: even her name was intriguing, beautiful, and sensual. She had begged for kindness through her eyes. He doubted she’d ever known real affection in her entire life. She had cried openly, unaware that her tears had crushed him. He’d wanted to take her in his arms and promise her his protection. He wanted to take away her darkest and most abysmal memories.

He shook his head in wonder. Maybe he would never see her again, but he was enamoured by a London commoner named Mercy Carver.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Jacob stood on the
Carrabelle
’s deck and stared open-mouthed at Belle.

She stood beside Hendry, radiant and amused at Jacob’s shocked expression. Gone were her usual breeches, shirt, and braces. In their place was a gown, which cleverly but not entirely hid her pregnant state.

“Belle, how did this happen?” Jacob asked stupidly.

“Ask your brother; he caused it.” Belle smiled happily. “You should have seen his face when I told him, Jacob. We were in the Bay of Biscay at the time, in six-foot waves and a darn wind that threatened to topple us. I was sick right in front of him, and do you know what he said?”

“No, ma’am.” Jacob smiled.

“He said, ‘Don’t tell me after all this time, you’ve suddenly become a bad sailor. We’ve been through much worse than this. Go and lie down, and don’t let the men see you!’ Silly oaf. I was sick for days, but not because of the damn weather. He never cottoned on until the buttons on my breeches finally popped. Why, it took another month or so before I plucked up the courage to tell him.”

Hendry spoke at last. “Now hush, honey. You’ll be making my brother think I’m an idiot. If you had told me sooner, I would have gotten you on a ship back home. Be honest. That’s why you didn’t tell me until we were in North Africa.”

Jacob kissed Belle’s hand and then hugged her so gently that she laughed aloud. “I’m with child. I’m not a china doll, so if you’re going to hug me, Jacob Stone, hug me!”

“I missed you, my sweet Belle.” Jacob laughed. “I swear I never imagined this day would come. This is going to change everything. It has to.” He grabbed Hendry by the shoulders and slapped him on the back three times. “I’m happy for the both of you. Hell, I’m going to be an uncle! But you do realise you can’t stay on board a ship now, don’t you, Belle? How far along are you?”

“Oh, I guess about five months. Maybe a little more.”

“Five months? Hendry?” Jacob looked to his brother.

Hendry nodded and smiled. “Don’t worry, Jacob. It’s been decided. Belle and I are going home with you on the
Carrabelle
. You’re going to have visitors at Stone Plantation for a while. Hope you don’t mind. We figure we’ll be landlubbers until the baby’s at least a year old. I don’t want to miss his or her first steps and first words. This wasn’t planned, but we’re mighty happy about it.”

“And I’m over that horrible sickness now, so don’t worry about me,” Belle jumped in. “I’ll be fine getting across the Atlantic. I can’t wait to tell everyone.”

Hendry beamed again. “Yep, she’s never felt better or looked more beautiful. We spoke to a doctor in Marseille, and he doesn’t see a problem with Belle taking this one last voyage. All we need to do now is find a new captain and navigator for the
Christina
, although I doubt we’ll find a navigator as good as my Belle.”

Jacob looked at the bump on Belle’s stomach, still trying to take in this momentous news. “You love the sea, both of you. Are you sure you can deal with living on land? And, Belle, should you really be taking this long trip? It’s going to be pretty rough going across the Atlantic.”

Belle laughed. “Don’t worry about me, Jacob. Worry about yourself. Why, you get sick sailing in a milk pond!”

Jacob opened his mouth to protest, but Hendry stopped him. “Look, brother, we know this is a shock. You have to let it sink in. We’ve got a lot to talk about, and lunch is waiting in the stateroom. Why don’t the three of us discuss it down there?”

Jacob followed them, pensive about Belle’s condition. Yet even with Belle’s health in mind, his heart soared. He was going to be an uncle. Even better, he was going to have his family back at Stone Plantation.

Over lunch, Jacob realised that his face or voice must have given something away when he mentioned his night out. He stumbled over his words as he relayed the entire story, and he was well aware that he mentioned Mercy’s name in just about every sentence.

Belle first posed the question. “I can see you are fond of this Mercy woman. You only met her last night and you didn’t even speak to her, yet you can’t stop talking about her. I don’t understand.”

“Belle, how can you of all people say you don’t understand? You and Hendry were like a couple of victims under a voodoo love spell ten minutes after you met at that picnic.”

Belle and Hendry laughed together. Hendry said, still smiling, “You’ve got us there. Love is a wonderful, mysterious happening. I’ve never seen you like this, so I can only believe that
you
may think you’ve been spellbound too. Belle, who are we to question my little brother’s feelings?”

A serious expression crossed Belle’s face. She believed in love at first sight. Jacob was right; it had happened to her and Hendry. But Jacob was engaged to a friend of hers, and Elizabeth was spoilt. She cared more about being mistress of Stone Plantation than she did about Jacob. Many of her friends married for position, not for love. If Jacob broke his word, he would never be forgiven. Virginia would make him a social outcast.

She tactfully said, “Darling Jacob, have you thought about Elizabeth in all this madness? You’re getting married before Christmas. That’s just a couple of weeks after we get home. Hendry and I were so happy when we decided to go home because it meant we could be at your wedding. Do you really think you, a Southern gentleman in every way, can break your word to the Coulters? Why, it’s unheard of. They’d make bad enemies. You know that, don’t you?”

Jacob hung his head. Belle was right, but he damn well knew what he wanted, and it wasn’t Elizabeth. He suddenly knew that with or without Mercy in his life, Elizabeth would never be able to fill his heart. Mercy had opened his eyes to his real feelings. He had felt alive this morning, sitting with her. It was as though the universe had finally shown him what had been missing in life.

He answered with the truth as he saw it. “I ain’t never been in love, Belle. Y’all know that. This woman has captivated my heart, and I feel like a damn prisoner. I have since the very first moment I laid eyes on her. She’s fragile and afraid, yet I also saw spirit and fire in her. She possesses the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen on any woman, but there’s so much more to her than how she looks. What I’m trying to say is that I don’t just desire her for her physical attributes. I feel a strong connection to her – damn it, I feel like a fish being reeled in and looking forward to being eaten. I can’t figure it out. All I want to do is sit with her, talk to her … be with her. I’ve nothing else to say. The damn woman has turned my brain into swamp mush overnight, and that’s all there is to it.”

Belle rose and hugged Jacob. Tears were in her eyes. “Big, strong Jacob is in love. You know, something crossed my mind only this morning. I just hate the thought of being cooped up in the cabin for more than a day, but Hendry insists I take things easy. Why, he won’t even allow me to do my job unless I’m sitting down. I believe I may need a companion, Jacob. Old bossy boots here will never allow me to work on deck, not in the squalls we’re expecting in the Atlantic.” She looked up at Hendry, and he nodded. “Why don’t you ask your Mercy Carver if she would do me the honour of keeping company with me on the voyage?”

Hendry said, “Jacob, be sure about this. You could be setting yourself up for a fall. The Coulters will rub your nose in the mud if you let Elizabeth down.”

“I don’t care about any of that. I can take care of the Coulters,” Jacob said.

“Then you’d better go get her,” Hendry told him, slapping him on the back.