Dawn on a Distant Shore (62 page)

"What is it that
a footman does?"

"We look after
the keeping o' the house, miss. The fires and the lamps, and the rest o' it. And
servin' at table, o' course."

"Then I'll see
you at supper?"

One corner of his mouth
jerked upward before he could stop it. "Aye, miss."

Hannah wondered if he
was not allowed to smile, or if he did not like to smile. But he opened the
door, and there was nothing to do but to leave him there in the hall and go in.

In the middle of the room
was a canopied bed bigger than Hannah had ever seen before, and in the middle
of the bed sat a little girl with Lily sleeping in her arms. Her eyes widened
when she saw Hannah and she put Lily down, very gently. Then she leaped off the
bed and landed with a soft thump.

Hannah had thought her
to be young, but she saw now that the girl must be her own age. She was slight,
and a full head shorter than Hannah, with a cap of short blond hair as curly as
a goat's and sea-green eyes. Her skirt was muddy at the hem, and her feet were
bare. There was a smudge of jam on her chin.

She said, "Babies
smell sae sweet, dinna ye think? Mally was called awa', and she asked me tae
bide wi' them. I'm called Jennet. Was your mither an Indian princess?"

Her tone was curious and
forthright and friendly, and it made something small and warm and unexpected blossom
in Hannah's chest, so that her throat closed and she had to swallow very hard.
She said, "My mother was Sings-from-Books of the Kahnyen'kehâka people,
and her mother is Falling-Day, and her mother is Made-of-Bones who is clan
mother of the Wolf longhouse, and her mother Hawk-Woman was clan mother before
her. She killed an English colonel and fed his heart to her sons." She
drew a breath and let it out again.

"Guid for your
granny. The English sojers hung my grandda for--" She paused, and scratched
her pointed chin thoughtfully. "Nae guid cause. What do they call ye,
then?"

"My girl-name is
Squirrel, but most everybody calls me Hannah. When the time is right
Falling-Day will give me my woman-name."

Jennet smiled so
broadly that two deep dimples carved themselves into her cheeks. "I like Squirrel
better than Hannah. I'll call ye that." She plucked an apple out of her apron
pocket and tossed it in a quick flick of the wrist.

Hannah caught it, and
in that moment she realized how very hungry she was.

"I'll tell ye
what I think, Squirrel. Ye can tell me tales o' the Indians and the great
wilderness, and I'll show ye aa the best bits o' Carryckcastle, aa the secret
places."

Hannah went up to the
bed to check the twins. They were both sleeping soundly, but it would not be
long before they woke. Then they would need new swaddling, and they might be
afraid of this strange place.

Behind her Jennet
said, "We'll bide here a while, aye? Ye'll want tae eat, and see tae the
wee ones. I'll help. Then we'll gae explorin'. Wad ye like tae see the pit?"

"Is that where
Mac Stoker is?" She spoke around a mouthful of apple, sweet and tart all at
once.

"Och, ne,"
said Jennet, helping herself to a spoonful of jam from the pot on the table.
"They dinna want the pirate tae die, after aa. Wad ye like tae see him? He
canna hurt ye--'ationezer Lun stands guard at the door, and he's aye
fierce."

"I have seen Mac
Stoker," Hannah said. "I saw him shoot a man and kidnap a lady from
the
Isis
. But I would like to see him again."

The spoon paused on
its way back toward the jam pot and Jennet turned to look at her. She produced
a single dimple. "We'll be fast friends, the twa o' us. Wait and
see."

In all her time on the
Jackdaw
, Elizabeth realized, she had never seen Mac Stoker off his feet,
but now he was abed. Under a few days' growth of beard he had gone a peculiar
ashen shade; even the scar around his neck had gone pale. His temple was
swollen, the color of an overripe plum.

Then he opened his
eyes--red rimmed and fever bright--and his mouth worked slowly, as if he didn't
quite have control over his tongue.

"Bonner," he
croaked. "Damn your eyes and liver, you're alive. Have you come to pay me what
you owe?"

Nathaniel limped to
the chair next to the bed and sat down, sticking his injured leg out in front
of him. He said, "We can talk about who owes what later. Now I want to
hear what happened to my father."

Stoker raised a hand
and let it fall. "Sweet Jaysus, not that again. I'm wishin' I never set
eyes on the man, nor on any of youse."

"You can't blame
the mess you're in on him. You got that bullet in your gut on your own
time," Nathaniel said.

"Did I now?"
Stoker grimaced. "I don't recall you bein' there. If you were, you'd know
that it was Hawkeye the bastards were lookin' for. Brained me proper with a
musket when my back was turned and dragged me away, and now me men are sittin'
in gaol cursin' me for a coward and a cur. Granny will eat me heart raw."

"Hawkeye has
never set foot on Scottish soil," Elizabeth said. "What can he have
had to do with this?"

"Sure and that
may be true," said Stoker, wheezing a little now. "But there's plenty
what are waitin' for him when he does, and he better keep his wits about
him." He turned his head to look harder at Nathaniel, taking in the heavily
wrapped shoulder and leg. "But maybe you've learned that for yourself
already. Dragoons?"

"Aye."

"A pair of them,
I'll wager. The bigger one with gray chin whiskers and as bald as a babby's
arse, the other with a scar down his right cheek, and missing two fingers on
his left hand."

Nathaniel glanced at
Elizabeth, and his expression was not hard to read. Worry and anger, in equal
measures. He said, "I never got close enough to see his hand, but that
sounds about right. Why do you think they were looking for Hawkeye?"

Stoker let out a noisy
breath. "They asked for him by name. Wanted to know where he was, and what
happened to him. And failin' that, they wanted to put their mitts on you. If
you had told me how popular youse Bonners were in Scotland I would have drove a
harder bargain."

"Where is my
father?"

He grimaced.
"Damn me if I know. Last I saw of him and MacLachlan was when we got boxed
in between the whole bloody Atlantic fleet and a frigate set on poundin' us to
kindling. They stopped just short of sinkin' us and then boarded."

His voice wavered and
he paused to drink from the cup that the Hakim offered him.

"When they left
again they took your father and MacLachlan wit' them, and that's the last I seen
of their sorry mugs." He shook his head wearily. "And don't be askin'
why they took your father and nobody else. I'm puzzled meself. Unless you've
friends in the Royal Navy and you kept it a secret."

Nathaniel smiled
grimly at the idea of it. "Aye, and tomorrow we're taking tea with the
king."

Elizabeth said,
"What was the frigate called?"

Both men turned to
her, Nathaniel with a curious expression, and Stoker with a suspicious one.

"The
Leopard
.
Tell me now, sweetings-- does that name mean anything to you?"

"Nothing at
all," she said firmly, not meeting Nathaniel's eye. "Was it because
you couldn't take them to Hawkeye that the dragoons shot you, or for the simple
pleasure of it?"

"'Od's bones,
she's got a gob on her. I don't envy you, man."

Nathaniel said,
"You haven't answered the question."

Stoker's mouth
thinned. "Never did I say 'twas the dragoons that put the bullet in me. It'll
be a dry day in Ireland when a couple of lobster-backs get the best of Mac
Stoker. I was runnin' goods under their noses when I was but thirteen."

"Then who was it
got to you if it wasn't the dragoons?" asked Nathaniel. He glanced at the
Hakim. "Carryck's men?"

Stoker waved a hand
dismissively. "No. If that crew hadn't come along I'd be dead. It was Giselle
what shot me, the ungrateful bitch. And me tryin' to rescue her." His fist
opened and closed again. "But she hasn't seen the last of Mac
Stoker." And he smiled.

By the time Nathaniel
made his way to the top of the grand stair, he had forgotten all about the agony
in his shoulder, simply because his leg throbbed like a war drum with every
step. At his back two servants crept along, ready to catch him if he should
fall but trying to look disinterested. He ignored them to lean on Elizabeth.

"It's just ahead,"
she said quietly. "There on the left."

Another servant opened
the door and then shut it behind them, and Nathaniel simply sat down on the carpet;
it was that or land on his face. He wiped the sweat from his brow with what
remained of his shirt, but it took a full minute for the thud of blood in his
ears to subside.

"I can hear Lily
laughing," he said. "And Curiosity talking to her."

"Yes."
Elizabeth put out a hand to help him to his feet. "There's another
bedchamber that connects to this one through the dressing room. I'll check on
them in just a moment. Here is the bed, Nathaniel."

"Damn," he
muttered, considering the little flight of steps. "More steps. I suppose there's
a ladder to get to the pisspot."

"Mac Stoker has a
decidedly adverse effect on your vocabulary," Elizabeth said. When he had
fallen back against the pillows, she set out to undress him, but he caught her
wrist to stop her.

"Boots."

"Hmm?"

"I'm not so done
in that I can't get out of my own breeks."

She nodded.
"Perhaps we should wait until they bring our things from Dumfries anyway.
I hope it is soon. We look like beggars, all of us."

He ran a hand over her
hair. "You look mighty fine to me, darlin'. Except for those dark circles
under your eyes."

She gave him a testy
half-smile. "It has been an eventful night."

"Come here to me
for a minute."

"If I lay myself
down now, Nathaniel, I will most likely fall asleep."

"I'll keep you
awake."

She drew up, clutching
a fist to her breast in surprise. "You cannot be serious, in your condition--"

"Relax, Boots. I
ain't got anything like that in mind. Not right now, any road. I just want to
talk to you."

She studied him with
narrowed eyes for a moment, and then she climbed up to sit next to him. There
was a look she got sometimes, her chin set hard and a line between her brows,
when she was chewing on something that she couldn't quite spit out. She could
no more hide how she felt than she could change the color of her eyes. Right
now they were storm gray.

"I should go
check on the children."

"They sound happy
enough," he said.

"Yes, well. I
imagine Curiosity is tired, too. And I wonder where Hannah has got to--"

"Boots."

"What?" Her
eyes blazed at him, daring him on.

"You're strung so
tight, I can almost hear you humming."

She frowned at him.
"Am I? And I wonder why that might be. Do I need remind you that your
father and Robbie have disappeared into the Royal Navy?"

He smoothed a curl
away from her face. "I remember. On a ship called the
Leopard
."

They stared at each
other for a long minute, and then she said, "It's not what you
think."

"Are you in the
habit of reading my mind these days, Boots? What is it that I think?"

"That I know
something about the
Leopard
that I'm hiding from you."

"Do you?"

"That is what
you're thinking!" She pulled away from him and rolled off the bed in a
flurry, pausing just out of reach to smooth her skirt. When she looked up at
him again, she had regained some of her composure.

"I once knew the
captain of the
Leopard
, but that was seven years ago. He must have been
posted elsewhere by now." And then, more slowly: "He was a friend of
Will's."

Nathaniel sat up a
little straighter. "Your cousin Will?"

She nodded. "But
this must be simple coincidence, Nathaniel. It must be."

"Maybe so. But if
it ain't--if you know the captain, and he knows you, is that good news for Hawkeye
and Robbie, or bad?"

She let out a great
sigh. "That's why I was hesitant to say anything, because I knew you would
ask me that very question. The truth is, I don't know, Nathaniel. I truly don't
know." And then: "If it is him, his name is Christian Fane."

She was anxious and
skittish, and it worried him. But before he could even think how to ask the
right questions to get to the bottom of it, Curiosity appeared at the inside
door with one baby balanced on each hip. "Any news?"

Elizabeth smiled in
relief and took Lily from her while Nathaniel told Curiosity the little they
had learned.