Lady Pirate (33 page)

“No choice,” she heard Daniel murmur. “You took the power away from her.”

“It was for her own good,” Henry insisted grimly. “She had no business being out at sea any longer. She was there out of necessity at first, and that was one thing. But in the end, it was no longer necessity.”

They were both silent for a moment; then Daniel said, “So you know of no one who would wish her dead?”

“Nay. But the men are spooked, and Meg…Well, she was nigh on hysterical. Took one look at the dead fella and went right white. She's wanting to get out of here. Wants us to tell Valoree that she's with child, have her announce it, claim Ainsley, and head there right now. And the men are right behind her.”

Valoree gave a start. She hadn't realized that anyone had guessed her secret, though she supposed she should have known that Henry would figure it out. He had always helped her with the flux when it came on her: getting rags for her to use, serving her hot rum to ease her cramps. Of course he would have noticed she had missed the last two. Well, three now.

She had kept the secret to herself, though. She wasn't even sure why, except that she had wanted to wait first and be sure she didn't lose the child.

“I just can't figure why anyone would wish to harm the captain,” Henry said. “Maybe Meg's right and it doesn't matter as long as we get her out of town. She's taking this really hard. She was fussing over Skully something fierce.”

There was silence for a minute; then Daniel spoke, his voice drawing nearer the door. “I want to have a look at this fellow. Maybe I know him and—” His voice died as he opened the door to find Valoree on the other side. She had managed to straighten, but not to move away before he opened the door.

“What—” he began, but Valoree interrupted him.

“I was just coming to tell you that your dinner is growing cold,” she said quickly, then glanced past him, her eyes widening in feigned surprise. “Henry! Is something the matter? What are you doing here?”

The two men glanced at each other; then her husband said, “He just came around to let us know that they have settled in at the town house.”

“Oh?” she asked archly, her gaze fixed on the older man. He squirmed under her hard-eyed look, but remained silent. It was Daniel who spoke next.

“Aye. Valoree, I am afraid I have to go out. I will not be gone long, but I want to check on something,” he announced, stepping out into the hall and forcing her back a step. Henry slid past, too, as soon as Daniel had cleared the doorway, sidling nervously toward the
front door. Valoree frowned at him, then tried to speak, but Daniel continued right on as he shifted sideways and began to back toward the door as well. “Why do you not go back and finish your meal? You need to keep up your strength. I will explain everything later. Much later.”

“But—” The door closed in her face and Valoree slammed her hand against it impatiently. “So much for discussing things and not taking over,” she said in a snarl, her mouth twisting with displeasure. She was damned tired of being led around by the nose.

Pulling the door open, she looked out in time to see the carriage pull away. A sudden throat clearing behind her made her pause and glance back at Daniel's butler. “Aye?”

Bawden hesitated, then; “Is my lady going somewhere?”

“Aye.”

He hesitated at the hard word, then, apparently deciding he would be in more trouble from Daniel should he not ask, he straightened his shoulders. “Shall I order a carriage?”

“I can walk. It is not far,” Valoree said dismissively. With that she walked out, pulling the door closed behind her.

She was halfway up the walk to the gate that fronted Daniel's town house when she heard the door open behind her. “But, my lady, where shall I tell my lord you have gone should he return?”

“You will not have to tell him anything,” Valoree tossed back grimly over her shoulder. “I am walking to my uncle's town house, which is where he is.”

“Oh.” There was uncertainty in his voice; then she thought she heard him sigh unhappily as she stepped through the gate and pulled it closed.

Valoree was so angry, she was nearly halfway to the Beecham town house before she started to feel the
early evening chill. The night was damp and foggy. But then, from what she had seen since being in London, it usually was, she thought grimly. Rubbing her arms, she berated herself for not thinking her plan through first and grabbing a cloak of some sort. Ah, well, it wasn't much of a walk from one town house to the other. Two short blocks. Still, her gaze slid alertly around the shadowed street as she went, trying to pierce the drifting mist and watch out for possible problems. Luckily she didn't see anything to be concerned about.

She was a mere two houses from her destination when something made her stop. Freezing, she saw a cloaked figure slide out through the front door. Instinctively, Valoree moved closer to the stone fence beside her, trying to be less noticeable as she watched the figure scurry to the gate. She recognized Meg right away. Her size and the fact that a light-colored gown kept peeking out from under the cloak made her identity an easy guess. When the other woman reached the walk and turned away from Valoree to hurry up the street, she immediately followed, her thoughts churning. The woman was obviously up to something she shouldn't. But what she was doing was anyone's guess.

Already chilled Valoree hoped as she set out after her that Meg wasn't planning to go far. No such luck. The woman walked for what seemed like forever, rushing down this road, then hurrying up another. She should have taken the damn carriage, Valoree thought irritably. It wasn't safe for a woman to be wandering the streets alone. Well, a woman who couldn't protect herself at any rate. Of course, if Meg had taken the carriage, she wouldn't have been sneaking—Skully would have had to go with her, too. Also, Valoree herself couldn't have followed on foot.

It was a relief when the older woman finally paused
in front of a town house. She didn't approach it at first; she simply stood out front, staring up at it, uncertainty in every line of her body. She even turned back the way she had come—toward Valoree, who had to quickly duck behind a tree to avoid being spotted—but she took only two steps before pausing again. Doing so, she straightened resolutely, turned back, hesitated, then started up the walk to the house. Valoree watched from her position behind the tree as the other woman knocked. A moment later, light spilled out over Meg's cloaked figure as a servant opened the door. As he stepped aside for her to enter and the door closed, the night was left dark and silent once more.

Frowning, Valoree peered up at the dwelling, wondering whose it was and what business Meg could possibly have there, then back the way they had come. It suddenly occurred to her that she probably couldn't find her way back. She had been more focused on Meg than on the route the woman had taken. Although she doubted even if she had paid attention to the path that she would be able to recall it. The woman had taken more twists and turns to get here than Valoree could count on both hands.

Sighing, she turned back to the house. She had a bad feeling about all of this. The very fact that Meg had gone about this all so sneakily was enough to make Valoree edgy. First, a fellow was caught in their house, where he broke his neck and Skully his arm in a tumble down the stairs, then Meg slipped out to come here. Valoree seemed to recall Henry saying something about the woman being terribly agitated and wanting them to leave London for the country. Of course, Daniel would not have agreed to that. He was still waiting for his audience with the king.

Drumming her fingers against the tree she stood behind, Valoree considered the house. She could wait here for the other woman to come out and follow her
back to Beecham's rental, never being the wiser as to the reason behind this journey, or she could just sneak up to the house and have a look inside. Perhaps she might even figure out who Meg was meeting.

Action was more attractive to Valoree than standing about, so she slid out from behind the tree and walked quickly to the townhouse gate. Slipping through it, she eased it closed, then made her way up the path, doing her best to stick to the shadows as she went.

She didn't notice the man trailing her until it was too late.

“You want I should get rid of the body?” Bull asked, drawing Daniel's gaze away from the face of the dead man with amazement.

“Get rid of it? No. We have to call in the authorities.” Seeing the uncertainty on the men's faces, Daniel grimaced and straightened. “It was an accident. A fall down the stairs. No one is at fault here, and he was an intruder. But the authorities should be notified.” He glanced around, his gaze landing on One-Eye.

“I'm on my way,” the other man announced, then turned to open the door, only to pause and glance back. “Which authority, exactly, would it be I am going to fetch?”

Daniel glanced toward the man, his mouth opening to answer, then snapped it shut as he saw John Beecham standing at the doorstep, gaping in at the body on the floor.

 

“Damn.” Valoree reached up to massage her aching head. It did seem she had a tendency to wake up sore-headed lately. At least this time she had seen the man who hit her. She had heard the snap of a fallen branch behind her as she approached the town house, turned, and caught a quick glimpse of his face before the handle of his flintlock pistol had struck her in the temple.

“You are awake.”

Valoree glanced up with surprise at the woman who hurried to kneel at her side in the dim, dungeonlike room. “Meg.”

“Aye.” The other woman sighed, then asked at the same time that Valoree did, “What are you doing here?”

Valoree made a face. “I saw you sneak out of the town house and I followed to see where you were going. Someone knocked me out as I was creeping up to the window to peek inside,” she admitted, then arched an eyebrow. “And you?”

“I came to see my sister,” the woman admitted grimly. Valoree's eyebrows rose.

“Lady Beecham?”

“Aye. I was shown to the salon, went to peer out the window, and someone must have entered behind me. I was hit from behind, too.”

“Has this something to do with the man who broke his neck falling down the stairs?” At Valoree's question, the older woman nodded solemnly. “You recognized him?”

“He used to work for my father. I would imagine he was with my sister now.”

“So the attacks…?”

“Were all aimed at me, I am afraid,” Meg admitted sadly.

“Hmmm.” Valoree was silent for a moment, then beetled her brows. “Would you care to fill in the bits you left out when last we spoke about your past?”

Meg hesitated, then blurted, “John is my son.”

“John?” Valoree frowned at the name and started to shake her head, then paused, her eyes widening. “John Beecham? Lord Beecham was the lover who got you with child, then did not believe it was his?” When she nodded, Valoree sighed wearily and shifted to get up off the cold, damp floor on which she had been sitting. They were in some sort of storage room. It felt like a wine cellar, but there was no wine, just crates and boxes. A single candle was the only light. Kind of them to leave even that, Valoree supposed as she eased onto a nearby crate. Rubbing the back of her neck in an effort to relieve some of her discomfort, she raised her head to peer at Meg. “Go on.”

Sighing, Meg settled herself on a crate near the door, tears beginning to shine in her eyes as she stared unhappily down at her hands. “Meg is short for Margaret. My full name is Margaret Jean Kettleworth.”

“Nice to meet you, Lady Kettleworth,” Valoree said dryly. “But can we skip to the pertinent parts? I suspect we haven't much time.” When Meg nodded, but looked at a loss as to where to start, Valoree prompted her. “How could you be John's mother? Lady Beecham—”

“Stole him,” Meg interrupted bitterly. “She stole him and lied to me.” Closing her eyes, she lowered her head wearily. “As I told you, I loved John's father.” A smile tilted her lips gently in reminiscence. “He was such a handsome man. Tall, debonair—”

“You had an affair.” Valoree interrupted, speeding the story along.

“Aye.” The word was a sigh. “His mother held a large rout at Beecham Castle before he was married. Lots of people were invited. It was a marvelous affair. Hunting during the days. Dancing at night. The last night there was a masked ball. I did not recognize him at first, but he did me. He said it was my perfume that
gave me away.” Her smile returned. “He said—”

“Meg,” Valoree interrupted impatiently. The other woman nodded.

“Aye, I am sorry. Toward midnight, we slipped out to the bailey for some fresh air, but it was full of people, most of them quite drunk. One of them bumped into me and spilled something on my skirt. It was red wine, and my gown was white. John was furious. I was afraid he would challenge the hapless man to a duel, he was so angry. I dragged him away, pulling him into the stable, begging him to show me his horse in the hopes of calming him down.”

“And you made love in the hay,” Valoree rushed the story along again. “Then what happened? Did he not ask you to marry him?”

“He did not get the chance,” Meg said with a sigh. “Afterward, he led me back to the manor, saying we had to go see my parents, that there was something he wished to ask them. But my sister came across us as we entered. Aghast at the stain on my gown, she rushed me off to help me tend to it. It was beyond repair. I had to change. I told Blanche what had happened, and that I thought the question he meant to ask was for my hand in marriage. She took my gown and suggested she go tell him to come fetch me in twenty minutes, then left me to change. I did, then fell asleep waiting. He never came.” Her bewilderment as she said those last words was obvious.

Valoree frowned slightly. “What happened the next day?”

“He gave me the cut direct,” she admitted. “I stayed away from the balls and parties after that. It hurt too much to see him. But three months later, I realized I was with child.”

“Did you tell
him?
”

She shook her head. “I did not know what to do. I turned to Blanche”—she grimaced at the name—“but
she was quite affronted. She said he would have to take responsibility. I resisted at first, but Blanche was brutal about the matter. I had made my bed, and now must face the consequences, she said. He was supposed to be at the Crichtons' ball that night. Blanche determined to go and drop the information in his lap. It would be his problem after that, she claimed. I stayed home, too humiliated and afraid to go. When she returned, it was to tell me that he had laughed at my situation and said it probably wasn't even his. That if I had lifted my skirts for him so quickly and easily, how was he to know I did not do it for others? It could be the stable lad's child for all he knew.”

“Men!” Valoree snapped in disgust, and Meg nodded unhappily.

“I did not know what to do. I think I would have hurled myself out the window if my sister had not been there. Instead, she convinced me to go stay in a cottage on the edge of Kettleworth land. I took only my maid and spent most of my time walking in the woods. Three months before the child was born, Blanche arrived. She kept me company through the last few months.”

“And your son John was born.”

“Yes. It was a terrible ordeal, he was so large. But when I asked to see the child, she kept saying I should wait until after I had rested. The next morning, she told me they had not wanted to tell me while I was so weak, but he had been born dead. Then she told me that rumors of my being with child had reached London, that my reputation was in ruins, and that John, the child's father, had married.”

“Not mentioning, of course, that she was the one who had married him,” Valoree added dryly. Meg nodded in misery. After a moment of silence, she continued.

“I did not care what happened at that point. I could
not return to London. John was lost to me forever, and our child was buried in an unmarked grave in the local church. Once again, I was ready to simply give up on life. But Blanche convinced me to go to the islands, make a fresh start. She bought me tickets on a ship, packed me up, placed a large sack of gold in my hands, and saw me off.”

“So you went to live on the islands,” Valoree prompted.

“I met a man on the ship to Port Royale. His name was William Gilchrist. He looked very much like John and he was sweet to me. He fell in love with me. I did not love him back. Still, I allowed him to convince me to marry him. The captain married us on our last morning at sea.”

“Did you find no happiness with him?”

“Of a sort,” she murmured. “We built a fine plantation during those first years of our marriage—growing sugarcane. We both worked hard and prospered. It was one of the wealthiest plantations on Port Royale. But as years after year passed with no children”—she shook her head—“he started to drink and let things slide. He began to refuse to allow me to help out, or make decisions when he was ‘indisposed.' I knew the plantation was failing, but it wasn't until he died that I found out just how bad things were. There was very little left that was not owed. By the time the creditors were paid off, there was enough for a ticket on a ship home and not much else. I decided to return to my family.

“I met a young lady on the ship, a fellow passenger who had not been away from England long, and she filled me in on the latest gossip and happenings. She knew quite a bit about this family and that. Without revealing myself, I was able to learn of my parents' deaths. She also said that she thought the older daughter had married some lord from the north. She claimed
it had happened four months after the younger had run off with some stable lad. Quite a family for scandal, she had joked. The older one had barely escaped a scandal herself, rumor had it. Right after the wedding, she had gone to live in the country. Eight months after that she returned with the heir. When I asked her what was scandalous about that, she said the ton had been all atwitter. The child was much too large to be a newborn. It had looked at least six months old.”

“And you realized it was your son,” Valoree murmured quietly.

But Meg shook her head. “Nay. Not right away. You see, she was so sketchy on details. And she did not know the name of the lord. Besides, you must understand, all those years, I had thought of Blanche as my savior. I would not have believed…not until I saw it for myself.”

“Which you did?”

“Aye. As I told you before, I hired a hack when I arrived in London to take me to an inn. But I did not stop to look in a shop. We passed by John's parents' town house on the way. I was watching the house, of course, curious to know if he lived there still, or if his parents did. I saw my sister come out of the house and get into a carriage—”

“And then you realized!”

Meg smiled sadly, but shook her head. “You give me too much credit. I thought she had been visiting, perhaps, or some such thing. I told the driver to follow the carriage. She stopped outside of a dressmaker's. I asked the driver to wait and got out to follow her inside. As I entered, a shop girl rushed forward to greet Blanche, addressing her as Lady Beecham.
That
is when I realized. I simply stood there in shock; then the shop girl spotted me and started forward, asking if I was all right. Blanche turned to look at me. She started to look away again, then froze, her eyes coming
back to me with equal shock. Then I turned and stumbled out of the store.”

“But your carriage was gone.”

“Aye. So I started to run. I just wanted to get away.”

“And you ended up by the docks, where Bull found you,” Valoree finished.

Meg nodded with a sigh. “Aye, and his offer of a warm, dry bed with a sweet small cottage later, where I could ponder my memories of John's father, seemed as good a way to end my days as any.”

Valoree gaped at her. “Ponder your memories? You still love him?”

“Aye. Foolish, perhaps, but I always felt there was some explanation for what had happened, something I was not seeing. He had courted me. We had been so happy together. I could not believe all of his feelings were feigned.”

“They were not.”

Both women glanced sharply toward the door at that announcement. It was open now, and Lady Beecham filled the entrance with her considerable bulk.

“He loved you terribly. Right up until the very day he died,” she said sadly. Then, “Meg, I have done you so many wrongs I cannot even count them. And in the end I think I made myself more miserable than you. That night when you came in from the stables you were all aglow. So gloriously happy. I wanted that for myself. And I didn't care how I got it. I didn't even really plan what I did that night. It simply popped into my head, wholly conceived, as if the devil himself had whispered it to me. I stashed your gown in my room and went to find John, but instead of telling him to collect you from our room, I told him to meet you in the stables. Then I flew back to my room, changed into your costume and mask, and slid out of the house.

“I had been by the stables earlier that night to check on my horse. When I was there, I had seen that the
stable master was drunk to the point of near oblivion. When I returned, he was not much better. When John arrived, it was to find a woman he thought was you in the stable master's arms.

“I had thought that he would simply turn and walk away. But he didn't. He pulled me away from the man and began to beat him viciously. I was terrified. I thought he would beat him to death. I ran back to the ball and sent a couple of men out to the stables to stop him, then hurried back to my room to change into my own clothes.

“I just stayed out of the way after that to see what would happen next. I was afraid you would talk to him and my plot would unravel, but when he gave you the cut direct the next morning, you seemed to give up on him. I had been feeling guilty about my impulsive actions, but that convinced me that what I had done was right. I told myself that you did not deserve him if you were not willing to put up even a bit of a fight for him.”

“How was I to fight?” Meg interrupted sharply at the criticism. “He would not even look at me, let alone speak to me.”