Loving a Lost Lord (8 page)

Greenock and Arran Island, Scotland

Will Masterson caught the ship's railing as the
Annie
bobbed at anchor on a cool, rainy afternoon. Beside him, Randall asked, “What's that thing on the back deck?”

“A diving bell,” Will replied. “Like a church bell, it's open on the bottom. Because of the weight, it stays upright when lowered into the water and air is trapped underneath. Divers can ride down inside the bell and swim over to where they work, then reenter the bell when they need to catch a breath.”

“Ingenious,” Kirkland remarked. “What will they think of next?”

“Aristotle wrote about an early diving bell, so it's not the newest invention around,” Will said. “But they've improved greatly in recent years. This one has a window to look out under the sea and compressed air so it can stay down longer.”

Randall frowned. “I hope it can do the job.”

“It's likely Ash was in the engine room. If so, we should be able to recover his body.” Will's voice was calm, though his emotions weren't. As long as there was no body, he could hang on to the faint hope that Ash was still alive.

With shouts and creaking timbers the
Annie
set off on the first leg of the journey. Archie Mactavish had been right: Jamie Bogle of Greenock had a first-rate salvage operation, with all the latest equipment. The diving bell even had a compressed-air line. Bogle also had something more: a personal motive for helping to find the
Enterprise
. His cousin Donald was one of the men missing and presumed dead.

“Donald liked working for your duke,” Bogle had told Will gruffly when they'd met to see if Bogle could take on the job. “Said it was the best position he'd ever had.”

“Then maybe we can bring his body home,” Will had replied.

“The family 'ould like that,” Bogle had said. “Can you sail on the afternoon tide?”

They could. The salvage ship
Annie
and a barge sailed south with Will, Randall, and Kirkland, plus two other passengers: Archibald Mactavish and Davy Collins, two of the four survivors of the
Enterprise.
With their recollections of landmarks on Arran Island, it took less than a day to locate the steamship's wreckage. The waters were shallow, which meant the salvage operation should be straightforward.

Under a damp and threatening sky, the diving bell submerged with two divers, one of them Bogle's son, Duncan. The time the men were below seemed interminable, though it couldn't have been too long. The chain of the crane rattled and became taut as it was attached to a piece of wreckage.

The divers returned to the surface. As they wrapped themselves in heavy wool blankets, Duncan reported, “We found the aft section of the ship, including the engine room. Lucky the
Enterprise
wasn't a great thumpin' sailing ship. I think we can raise her with a bit of care.”

His father nodded and ordered his crew to start lifting. Chain squealing, the load was raised, water pouring from every crack and crevice when the massive piece of wreckage cleared the surface.

Will's fingers bit into the ship's railing as he wondered if Ash was inside. He had trouble believing that Ash, with his quiet wit and absolute loyalty, was really gone. Which was why recovering a body was so important.

The crane was swinging the wreckage toward the barge when the chain supporting the load snapped, whipping toward Duncan Bogle. Quick as a cat, Randall tried to yank the young diver out of its vicious path. He was only partially successful. The end of the chain hit Duncan with brutal force.

The young man cried out and fell to the deck. A tidal wave of water exploded in all directions as the massive chunk of wreckage plunged back into the sea, rocking the
Annie
.

Swearing, the captain bent over his son, who gasped with pain from the impact of the violently recoiling chain. “Are you all right, lad?”

“Right…enough,” the young man managed. “If that Sassenach hadn't dragged me back, the bloody chain would have cut me in half, I think.”

“It came close even so.” Randall, who had experience tending wounded men in the battlefield, knelt by Duncan and examined his chest and shoulder. “A broken shoulder and maybe a cracked rib, I think. With binding, he should heal well.”

“But he won't be diving for a while.” Bogle frowned. “I can replace the chains, but diving is a two-man job and Wee Geordie can't do it alone. We'll have to return to Greenock for another diver.”

“I can dive,” Will said. “I lived in the West Indies as a boy and learned to swim as soon as I could walk.”

“Are you sure?” the captain said doubtfully. “It's hard, dangerous work even for men experienced with a diving bell.”

“I had experience with a bell when I worked on a salvage ship looking for Spanish treasure in the Indies,” Will replied.

Kirkland, who had joined them, said, “I didn't know that.”

Will smiled. “We all have our secrets. How long until you can send the bell down again, Captain?”

Bogle assessed the sky and the surface of the sea. “There's weather moving in, so we'd best do it soon as possible. Maybe half an hour.”

An amazing amount of cursing was required to replace the chain. Will wished he understood the Glaswegian dialect: the blistering oaths were downright poetic.

As the bell was readied Will changed into the crude leather suit used to ward off the cold. This was Duncan's suit, so it was clammy wet and not really large enough, but he'd be glad for the protection when he went under.

Wee Geordie was a muscular young man as large as Will himself. It was damned chilly in the bell as they sank beneath the surface. As he perched on the cold metal bench that ran around the inside of the bell, Will thought wistfully of the clear, turquoise waters of the West Indies.

During the descent, the water level slowly rose to his feet, then his ankles. His ears began to hurt. He'd forgotten about that part. “Lucky the wreck is only a few fathoms deep,” Wee Geordie said. “Else our ears would feel stabbed by needles.” He frowned. “Are ye sure ye know what ye're doing?”

“I think so, but you're the expert here.” Will guessed the Scot couldn't believe an English lord would be good for anything useful. He had a point, but Will hadn't always been an English lord. “You've already studied the site.”

“It shouldn't be hard to recover the aft end of the ship,” Wee Geordie said. “The chains went down with it, so it's just a matter of attaching them again. We'll be back up ta the surface before ye know it.”

Will peered through the heavy glass window set into the wall of the bell. Those dark shapes that loomed through the water must be the broken bones of the
Enterprise.

When they were in position, Wee Geordie inhaled deeply several times over. Will did the same. “Don't try to spend too long out of the bell,” the diver said. “The captain paid a right fortune for the compressed-air equipment, and he likes it to be used.” He leaned forward, then slid through the watery floor feet first.

Will followed a few seconds later. The water was
cold!
Once more he thought regretfully of the Indies. Even with the protection of the leather diving suit, they'd have to work fast, or risk becoming dangerously chilled. With smooth, powerful movements, he swam after Wee Geordie.

As the younger man had predicted, the recovery operation was straight forward. The hooks on the ends of the chains had to be secured again, then the crane hook attached where the three lifting chains came together. Multiple returns to the bell were required, Will more often than Wee Geordie. His wind wasn't as good as when he swam regularly.

When the chains were solidly in place and they were ready to return to the surface, Will asked, “Did you and Duncan check the rest of the wreckage for bodies?”

Wee Geordie nodded soberly. “Aye, we did. Most of the wreckage is open and any bodies would have been washed away. The aft section is closed enough that we might find someone in there.”

They settled into the bell and signaled to be pulled up. When they reached the surface, they were immediately swaddled in blankets and offered mugs of steaming tea augmented with sugar and whisky. Will gulped his drink and asked for a refill. After his bones thawed, he went below to change into dry clothing. He kept the blanket.

When he climbed on deck again, the aft section of the
Enterprise
was being positioned on the barge. Kirkland helped Archie Mactavish cross between the vessels, for the engineer was grimly determined to see what had gone wrong.

Two of Bogle's crewmen used sledges and crowbars to open up the wreckage enough to allow them to enter. Everyone else waited in silence as the wind increased and rain began to fall. Will braced himself when one of the men called, “There's a body in here.”

The two workers brought the dead man out and laid him on the floor of the barge, their movements respectful. Randall knelt by the body. After a tense moment, he said, “It's not Ashton.”

“Aye,” the captain said heavily. “'Tis my cousin Donald.” He took off his hat and held it over his heart. “At least now we know.”

Will released his breath roughly, glad not to have proof of Ash's death and sorry to be left with uncertainty. “With that mystery settled, let's look at the engine.”

A crewman lit lanterns and Will, Mactavish, and the captain entered into the wreckage. Mactavish studied the engine with painstaking thoroughness while the other two men held the lanterns. When he finished scrutinizing the front and sides of the engine, he said, “I see nothing that could have caused the explosion.”

“Come around to the back,” Will suggested. “The engine ripped free of most of its mountings, so you can see this side.”

Mactavish wriggled by him in the tight, dark space and looked at the back of the boiler. After a moment, he swore viciously. “Look at that.” He pointed the stump of his right arm at a ragged hole in the curving side of the boiler.

Will frowned at the hole. “Obviously the engine blew from there, but why? A weakness in the boiler casing?”

“Look more closely,” Mactavish growled.

Will bent close and saw that the edges of hole showed glints of brighter solder. “A weak spot in the boiler was patched here and the repair didn't hold?”

“The boiler was perfect. This hole had to have been cut in and patched badly so it would blow after it was in use for a while.”

Captain Bogle said incredulously, “So that means…”

Will finished the sentence, his voice savage. “The explosion wasn't an accident.”

The massive door was opened by a hard-faced man in livery. Seeing who was on the doorstep, the footman tried to slam the door. Adam promptly shoved his foot in the gap, glad he'd worn his heaviest boots. “I will see him,” Adam said grimly. “Will you tell me where he is, or will we have to search the house?”

“This is an outrage!” the footman snarled as he tried to kick Adam's foot from the opening. Raising his voice, he said, “Help! The house is being invaded!”

Ignoring the servant, Adam and his three companions forced the door open. “We should stay together,” Adam snapped. “He's probably upstairs.”

As screaming maids and shouting footmen rushed about, Adam and his companions charged up the staircase. In one bedroom, they disrupted an illicit tryst between a squealing maid and a male servant, but they didn't find the man they sought. When they turned from the last room, Adam said, “The attics.”

The stairs were painfully narrow, and on this hot day the heat was suffocating. Most of the attic rooms clearly belonged to female servants, and were empty.

They found their man in the smallest, meanest room in the attic, the ceiling slanted and the floor covered with dust and dead flies. There were no furnishings except for a pallet on the floor. The stench of infection and unwashed body was nauseating.

Adam gasped at the sight of the skeletal, unmoving figure, fearing his friend was dead. His face was lifeless and his blond hair dull and filthy. But his eyes flickered open when Adam knelt beside the pallet. “I…wondered when you'd get here,” the man said with a travesty of a smile.

“Sorry I didn't arrive sooner. I was out of town.” Adam scanned the damaged body, hoping they would be able to remove him without causing further injury. Raising his voice, he said, “Someone get water and a blanket from one of the other rooms.”

It took only a few moments to provide him with a chipped pitcher of tepid water and a heavy, cracked tumbler. “Would you like a drink?” he asked as he poured water into the tumbler.

“God, yes!”

Adam raised his friend's head enough to allow him to sip. The cords in the man's throat showed as he swallowed convulsively.

“That's enough for now,” Adam said as he removed the tumbler. “Too much might make you ill.”

The blond man looked as if he would argue, then changed his mind. “Pour the rest of the water over my head.”

Adam complied, and the blond man gave a long sigh of relief. “Coolest I've been since God knows when.”

Adam stood. “Let's get him wrapped in the blanket and out of here.”

Two of his companions spread the blanket on the floor, then lifted the blond man from the filthy pallet and set him in the middle of the coarse fabric. The injured man gave one sharp gasp of pain, but that was the only sound he made, even when he was being carried down the narrow staircase with his head and feet bumping the walls, despite the best efforts of the two men carrying him.

The next set of stairs was wider. They had made it down to the entrance hall when a furious old man burst from the drawing room to block their exit. His expensive garments proclaimed wealth, but his eyes were mad and his gnarled hands held a shotgun. “Damn you for an arrogant piece of filth!” he howled, the weapon aimed squarely at Adam's chest. “You have no right to take him from my house!”

Adam drew a slow breath, wondering how large a hole the shotgun would blast in him at this range. “And you have no right to let him die of neglect.”

“He deserves to die!” The shotgun swung toward the man wrapped in the blanket, then back to Adam.

“Shoot if you will,” Adam said. “But if you want to avoid scandal, murder is not the way to do it.”

The shotgun wavered, then lowered. “Damn you!” the old man swore again, his eyes wild. “Damn you and all your evil, lawless friends!”

“No doubt damnation will arrive in its own good time. But not today.” Adam swung the door open and gestured the others to leave before the old man could change his mind. He half expected the shotgun to be fired, but they loaded the injured man into the carriage without incident.

As Adam studied the slack face of the man they'd rescued, he wondered if his friend's life could be saved, or if it was too late.

He was closing the carriage door when a shot rang out.

 

Adam jerked awake, heart pounding. He heard another sharp sound. Not gunfire, but an ax chopping wood. He and Mariah had discussed removing a tree that was dying, and likely that was being done this morning. An efficient woman, his wife.

He rose and crossed to the washstand, now supplied with a razor, so he could temporarily tame his whiskers. As he washed and shaved, he wondered about the dream. Was it pure invention, or memory of something that had happened? It had felt very real.

As he settled into his meditation, he wondered what the dream had to say about his life if it reflected a real incident. Who was the blond man, and what had driven Adam to invade a grand house?

Some of the answers could be deduced. The blond man was clearly hated by the angry old fellow and was being left to die of neglect after a serious injury. Adam had learned what was going on and rescued his friend. The old man hated him as well. Very likely he hated everyone.

Had any names been used? He couldn't recall any. It would have been convenient if the old man had been more specific in his insults.

What else did the dream suggest? That Adam moved among people of high status, though his own status was unclear. That he was indeed used to giving orders.

And that he had friends.

 

By the time Mariah stopped by Adam's room for a quick check, again he was gone. He seemed to be an early riser. Also healthy enough that she probably needn't hover over him regularly.

She found him in the breakfast room attacking a plateful of eggs, ham, and toasted bread. “You look well this morning.” She signaled the maid to bring her own breakfast.

After pouring a cup of tea, she settled opposite him. “Are you feeling any strain from all you did yesterday?”

He shook his head. “Some sore muscles and other aches.” He touched the bandage on his head. “But I feel well enough to ride over the estate today.”

“Very well, I'll order the horses after breakfast.” She sipped her tea, thinking how much she enjoyed watching him. There was a smooth efficiency in his movements, an air of being comfortable in his own skin even though he didn't remember his past.

She wondered if he would be as relaxed if he didn't have the false identity of Adam Clarke to hold on to. Her life would be so much easier if she could confess the truth! The longer she maintained the lies, the more infuriated he would be when he discovered them. The fact that she found him attractive made everything more complicated. She asked hopefully, “Any new memories today?”

He frowned. “I had a dream so vivid it seemed like a memory, but even so, it didn't really tell me anything about myself. No names or places were mentioned, though I think the location was London.”

Disappointed, Mariah said, “So that wasn't any help.” The maid set a plate of eggs and toast in front of her. As she turned her attention to her breakfast, she said, “I look forward to discovering how much you know about farming.”

He grinned. “So do I.”

 

Three hours later they pulled up their horses on a hill that gave a dramatic view of the estate, the sea, and the steep hills. She now had her answer. Adam rode with unthinking skill and he could talk agriculture like a duke's land steward. “You're a man of parts, Adam,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I never heard you discuss agriculture before today, yet you obviously know a great deal about the subject.”

“I didn't realize I had so many opinions about livestock and crops. Which breed of pigs fattens most quickly, which cows give the best milk.” He sighed. “It's maddening to remember cattle and pigs, but nothing of my life.”

“That will come.”

“I hope so.” He started his horse down the hill. “You were dead right that Burke neglected this place shamefully. The estate has quite a bit of arable land for this part of England, but a seed drill and harvester are required, along with better seed. With investment and good management, the estate's income could double in five years.”

“That would certainly be welcome.” She would need to hire a good steward to manage the property. Adam would be wonderful, but it was unlikely he would be here for very long. She gave him a sidelong glance, admiring his seat on the horse. Though if he never regained his memory…

Her vague dream ran jarringly into the knowledge that he might have a wife waiting with increasing fear for her husband to come home. If Adam were Mariah's husband, she would certainly start searching if he disappeared. Horrors, what if he had a wife who did exactly that, and showed up at Hartley Manor to demand her husband back?

Mariah shuddered, thinking she had entirely too much imagination. She was glad when Adam pointed at the church tower just visible over the top of a hill. “Is that the village? Can we visit?”

She bit her lip uneasily. She would much prefer not having to introduce Adam to the village as her “husband.” But it must happen sooner or later. “I suppose we can, if you're feeling strong enough. Are you sure you wouldn't rather return home and rest?”

He gave her a bright and probably lying smile. “I'm sure.”

He most likely wanted to push himself as hard as possible to rebuild his strength. Male to the bone. “Very well, the village it is. The road forks soon. If we take the lane on the right, it will take us down to the high street.”

They reached the fork a few minutes later and turned into the lane, which was sunken so deeply from generations of use that it was almost a tunnel. Adam said, “When it rains, the water must rush through here like a tidal wave.”

Mariah studied the steeply slanted sides, thinking she wouldn't like to have to climb out of the lane if there was a heavy storm. “I suspect you're right, but I haven't seen that. I don't usually travel this route.”

They were nearing the village when they heard the frantic barking of a dog. Frowning, Adam urged his horse into a trot, Mariah doing the same. They rounded a curve and saw three boys throwing rocks at a half-grown dog. In its attempts to escape, the small creature was racing toward Mariah and Adam, but a bad limp slowed it down and the sides of the lane were too steep for it to scramble up and away.

As she watched, horrified, a stone thrown by the largest boy struck the dog. The dog yipped while the younger boys howled with delight. Adam kicked his horse into a gallop and thundered down on the boys. “Halt!”

He swung from his horse and snapped, “How dare you abuse a helpless creature! Where are your parents?”

“Tha' dog don't belong to nobody!” the oldest boy protested. “My da said to get it away from the house.”

“So you decided to torture the poor beast,” Adam said in a voice that bit to the bone. “Life is precious and never to be ended casually. Your behavior is a disgrace. How would you like to be stoned to death when you were only trying to escape?”

The boys looked as if they wanted to run, but they couldn't escape easily any more than the dog had been able to. “We didn't want to kill the ugly critter, just make it go away,” one of the smaller boys protested.

Mariah dismounted and scooped the panting pup into her arms. Under blood and filth were floppy ears and brown and black patches mixed with white. She guessed some hound ancestry mixed with heaven knew what else.

The dog struggled at first, but she held tight, stroking it as she said soothingly, “You poor pup. Don't worry, you're safe now.” Too tired to run anymore, it settled in her arms.

She had missed part of Adam's dressing down of the boys, but when she glanced up, the culprits looked near tears. Adam ended, “Do I have your word of honor that you won't act with such cruelty again?”

They all nodded mutely, then turned and raced away when he released them, saying, “See that you live up to that.”

As the boys vanished around a bend, Mariah said, “Do you think they'll behave better in the future?”

“One lecture won't reform them entirely, but perhaps they'll think twice before casually tormenting other creatures.” He turned and gently took the dog from her. Beginning to recover, the dog reared up and began licking Adam's chin. He laughed. “She has a remarkably forgiving disposition. Shall we keep her?”

Mariah had always loved animals, but her wandering life hadn't allowed for pets. Now that she had a real home, it was high time she acquired some animal companions. “If no one in the village claims her, we might as well since she doesn't look fit for anything but charming susceptible humans.” She scratched the puppy's head. It lolled happily into her hand. “What shall we call her?”

“Bhanu,” Adam said promptly.

She frowned. “I've never heard that before. What does it mean?”

He looked blank. “I have no idea. But in my mind, it's definitely a dog's name.”

“Another piece of the past arrived without explanations,” Mariah said wryly, thinking how attractive it made a man to be kind to animals. “Bhanu she is. Look at the size of those feet. She's going to be big.”

“She's an armful already. I'll carry her back home. I hope that leg isn't broken.”

Adam set Bhanu down and helped Mariah into her saddle. Then he handed her the dog, mounted his own horse, and took Bhanu back. The dog settled down happily across his lap.

At a walking pace, they continued down the lane and into the village. After a detour to look at the small waterfront, home to several fishing boats, they rode down the high street. Adam said thoughtfully, “Hartley looks familiar. Not that I've been here, but it seems like any number of other English villages.”