Secrets of Midnight (40 page)

Donovan nodded again, ensuring that his own pistol was tucked
securely in his belt and yet hidden under his coat. Oliver Trelawny left them
and headed back to the large rowboat where ten of his crew sat silent and
armed, the
Fair Betty
anchored
farther out in the harbor.
Which left Donovan and Corisande
standing alone on the wharf, well, not fully alone as a bedraggled pair of
sailors reeled drunkenly past them, one of the men casting a bleary-eyed glance
at Corisande.

"Stay close." Donovan repeated Oliver's
order, his voice harsh. But maybe then she would heed him with their bloody
lives at stake. "Remember, Corie, under no circumstances do you hand over
that chest until we know your sisters are safe—if we end up having to hand it
over at all. It's the only thing we have to guarantee we're going to make it
back in one piece to the ship. Do you understand?"

Corisande felt stung that he had spoken so gruffly to
her, but what had she expected? She gave him a small nod, gripping the wooden
chest under her arm as he set off at such a hard pace that she had to hurry to
keep up with him, despite her long legs.

He must be angry, he must be . . . Ah, but she couldn't
think right now about how angry Donovan must be, how deeply hurt—she had no
idea where he'd spent the night while she'd hardly slept at all in Oliver's
cabin. Anxiously she wondered if her sisters might be bound and gagged and held
captive in any one of these shabby two-story buildings flanking the harbor. And
the few sputtering lanterns hanging here and there did little to dispel the
wharf s sinister look.

She could hear voices and raucous laughter, shrill
female laughter, too, spilling out onto the dock from the several lighted
taverns they passed, which illustrated fully that Roscoff was a place that
never grew quiet. She jumped when a sailor suddenly careened out of a door to
fall to his knees in the adjoining alley and start retching; she moved closer
to Donovan when a trio of men followed after him,
laughing
and jeering.

"I—I don't like this place."

Donovan didn't respond, but Corisande could see that
his hand had moved under his coat to his pistol, which gave her some comfort.
Yet she felt nothing but an icy chill slice down her spine when a voice
suddenly carried to them from the shadows, a harsh accented voice that she knew
so well.

"Ah, madame, monsieur, you've come to Roscoff and
so quickly. I saw the ship enter the harbor and wondered perhaps if it might be
you."

She spun, but Donovan caught her arm, demanding in a
sharp whisper, "Do what I say. Do nothing but what I say."

"And I say you both move over here where we will
talk," the voice barked in a low command.

Corisande saw that Louis, the Marquis de LaCroix, had
stepped farther into a dark alley next to a tavern bearing in English the name
The White Hart, no doubt for the benefit of its smuggler patrons.

"No, we'll talk out here on the dock,"
Donovan answered for them, but Corisande was suddenly overwhelmed by such fury
and outrage at what that bastard had done to terrorize her and her family that
she couldn't restrain herself.

"Yes, out here in the light, and we'll not say a
word to you until we see that my sisters are safe! You fiend! Coward! I've the
jewelry, de LaCroix, do you hear me? We found the chest, and I swear you won't
see a single pearl until I know my sisters are safe—"

"Good God, woman, will you wake the entire port?"

Donovan had seized her arm and drawn her back against
him, but Corisande gave him little heed as she saw Louis moving out of the
shadows toward them, her vehement outburst clearly having worked. He was not as
big as Donovan but powerfully built, his moustached face hardened with
bitterness and— Oh, Lord. She stiffened in fear when she saw that Louis held a
pistol leveled right at Donovan's chest. Suddenly she wished desperately that
she had kept silent.

"
Oui
,
madame, you resemble my father's whore Véronique, and for that alone I could
have killed you. But now I see it was wise for me to let you live. Keep very
still, madame, and you" —the marquis shifted his glittering gaze to
Donovan— "draw your hand away from your weapon. Good, now raise both your
hands slowly . . ."

Louis suddenly gave a low whistle and his two
compatriots rushed from the alley, one wresting Donovan's pistol from his hand
while the other reached out to grab the chest from beneath Corisande's arm. But
all she could think of was her sisters and how Donovan had said the jewelry was
their only guarantee; with a fierce cry, she swung her fist with all her might
and cracked her attacker in the face before fleeing to the edge of the dock,
her breath tearing from her lungs as she ripped open the lid and held the chest
out over the water.

"No, I will see my sisters! Bring them out here at
once, or I'll empty this whole thing into the sea!"

Corisande saw Louis's eyes flare, his face stricken
with rage, his pistol still pointed so ominously at Donovan that she began to
pray, hard. But in the next instant, immense relief swept through her as the
marquis nodded to his men.

"Go. Do as she says."

They disappeared at once into the alley, and she saw
light spilling from a door near the back of the building, but she wasn't
through with Louis yet, oh, no. "Hand your pistol over to my husband. Now!"

The marquis stared at her as if she were insane, but
when she plunged her hand into the chest and pulled out a brilliant diamond
necklace, throwing back her arm to fling it out into the darkness of the sea,
he lowered his pistol, and Donovan was there in an instant to take it from him.

"Good God, Corie . . ." was all she heard him
say before muted weeping carried to them from the alley. The pitiful sound grew
louder as Louis's two accomplices brought forth her sisters half stumbling in
their dirty, crumpled nightgowns—Marguerite, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen
from crying, carrying Estelle who had her arms flung around her older sister's
neck, while Linette trailed behind, clutching Marguerite's sleeve.

"Tell your men to stand away from my sisters and
toss away their weapons!" Again Corisande held out the necklace, and
Louis, his face gone chalk-white from fury, could do naught but comply.

"Do as she says!"

Donovan felt his heart lurch when he saw that Corisande
was teetering perilously close to the edge of the dock, but he forced himself
to focus upon the three dangerous men in front of him, retrieving his own
pistol as weapons were
dropped
and hurling the rest
with a low curse into the sea. Then he beckoned to Marguerite, who was
trembling from head to foot as she glanced from him to Corisande. All three
girls were clearly so terrified that they hadn't budged an inch.

"Marguerite, listen to me," he said to her
firmly, her wide, frightened eyes jumping to his. "Take Linette's hand,
that's right, now come over here and
stand
behind me.
Everything's going to be fine. Everything's—"

"Donovan!"

Corisande's cry split the night, but he saw the danger
too late. Louis had pulled a knife from the back of his belt and grabbed
Linette by the hair to yank her against him before there was anything Donovan or
Corisande could do.

"
Oui,
put the chest down
on the dock, madame, or the girl dies, do not doubt me!"

Chapter 36

As Linette burst into terrified tears, the long knife
blade pressed to her throat, Corisande was so stunned she simply stood there,
frozen.

"I said put the chest down in front of you!
Maintenant
!"

She obeyed him, shaking so violently as she returned
the diamond necklace and closed the lid that she feared her knees might give
way when she set the chest upon the dock with a loud
thunk
. But when she straightened she froze again, her eyes widening
to see a man wearing only breeches creep up behind Louis, creep up so silently
that no one was aware of him, not even Donovan, as everyone focused their
attention on her . . . until the cock of a pistol made her jump, the weapon
suddenly pressed to Louis's temple.

"Harm the girl, man, and you die."

As Louis swore vehemently, everyone else now stared at
the handsome dark-blond stranger, who appeared nearly as tall and strapping as
Donovan, and at the other men who suddenly emerged from the shadows with
wicked-looking cutlasses and pistols drawn. Corisande's gaze flew to Linette,
her heart thudding painfully in her throat. Dear God, why wasn't Louis dropping
the knife? Why wasn't he—

She gasped as an enraged bellow rent the air. Louis had
shoved Linette away from him and was lunging straight for her, straight for the
chest—at the same moment Donovan dove for Louis and both men crashed to the
dock amidst the high-pitched screams of her sisters. Suddenly everything was
confusion, Corisande crying out, too, when she saw Louis raise his knife in the
air to strike.

"Donovan! Oh, God, Donovan!"

She nearly tripped over the chest in her haste to reach
him only to be grabbed round the waist and swung out of the way as a shot
exploded, then another almost simultaneously, Louis's knife spinning in a spray
of blood across the dock as he slumped onto Donovan. The next thing she knew
she'd been released, the blond stranger lowering his pistol as Donovan flung
off Louis's limp body—his right hand, his pistol, the front of his white shirt
bloodied from a gaping hole in the marquis's chest.

It was then that Corisande saw Donovan had been cut,
bright red blood oozing through a gash in the upper sleeve of his coat, and she
started to run to him but was suddenly encircled by Marguerite, Linette, and
Estelle, her sisters falling upon her tearfully. Her eyes brimming, too, she
sank to her knees to embrace them; when she looked up again, Donovan was
surrounded by Oliver and his crew, who must have come running at the sound of
pistols firing. The handsome stranger who had helped them, an Englishman she
was certain of it, and the other men had vanished just as mysteriously as they
had come.

Louis's compatriots had disappeared, too, no doubt
taking one look at his bloody corpse and deciding no amount of jewelry was
worth dying so hideously for. It was a sickening sight, the marquis's right
hand shattered by a bullet that must have been fired by the stranger just as
the knife was descending, saving Donovan's
life
and
giving him the split second he needed to fire his own pistol. And she hadn't
even had the chance to thank the man . . .

"Corie, girls, come, we must go!" Oliver
cried as he hurried over to them, shepherding everyone in front of him. "Soldiers
might have heard—the last
thing
we need are questions!
Go!"

Corisande grabbed up the chest, and Oliver grabbed up
Estelle, while Linette and Marguerite lifted their nightgowns and ran barefoot
alongside them. The crew of the
Fair
Betty
and Donovan had their pistols lowered and at the ready as they all
headed back to the eight-oared rowboat. And none too soon, as people began to
pour onto the dock, a crowd gathering around the body they had left behind.

The commotion only grew worse as they rowed out to the
Fair Betty
, but very quickly they were
all safely aboard and the anchor hoisted. Corisande tried to push the horror of
Roscoff from her mind as she herded her sisters below deck and into Oliver's
cabin. The pitching motion of the ship was a wondrously encouraging sign that
they were well on their way. Another blessing was her sisters assuring her that
they hadn't been hurt, especially Marguerite. Dear God, if those men had
touched her . . .

"I'm hungry, Corie!"

That from Estelle, and Corisande was only too glad to
pull out for them from Oliver's private larder what was left of the pork and
leek pie Rebecca had baked, and an untouched plate of buttermilk cake. She wasn't
hungry, though, content just to watch her sisters eat heartily and begin to
smile again, and giggle when Estelle took a spoon and tried to balance it upon
her nose.

But suddenly Estelle grew still, tears filling her
eyes. Corisande knew at once her sister was thinking about Luther; Estelle had
always performed that silly trick with him before.

"Luther's fine, Estelle. He was lying upon your
pillow when I found him. He'll be so happy to see you—"

"But they tried to kick him, Corie, tried to stomp
him until he went to hide under the bed."

Sighing, Corisande brushed the buttermilk cake crumbs
from Estelle's mouth as she drew her close to give her a hug. "We won't
think of that anymore, all right? Marguerite, Linette? We're all safe and sound
and together and we won't think of that anymore. Now I want you to wash up and
then try to get some sleep—"

"But what about the chest?" Marguerite broke
in excitedly. "Can't we have a peek inside?"

Corisande sighed again; she had wanted to see them
quickly settled so she might find Donovan. He had been cut, his wound would
need tending

"Please, Corie?"

"Very well, but only a peek. Then I want you to
get some rest. We'll talk about all of this when we're home."

As she lifted the wooden chest to Oliver's bed where
they were all sitting, Corisande should have known waiting to explain
everything that had happened would be impossible. The moment she opened the
lid, she was bombarded with questions peppered with girlish oohs and aahs, and
she resigned herself to telling them as much of the story behind the jewelry as
she could, given that Estelle was only nine. The full truth of it she would
tell Marguerite and Linette later.

"Oh, Corie, this was our grandmother?"