Silver Tears (3 page)

He managed a hoarse laugh. “How could I die when I’m still waiting for your answer?”

“Oh…” Alice didn’t know what to say.

“I hate to interrupt this tender reunion,” said the man behind her, “but you need to rest, Hargrave.”

The injured man half rose on his cot. “So, you’ve found him already. You certainly wasted no time.”

Alice stared from one man to the other. Turning back to the captain, she shook her head. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Gunn! You said he’d be waiting. Well, I hope the two of you are happy together.”

Alice turned quickly to stare at the tall stranger standing over them. Silently she shook her head. “No,” she murmured. “No, it can’t be.”

A wide grin split the red beard as he bowed. “Christopher Gunn at your service, Lady Alice.”

Alice sank to the dirt floor beside the cot, still clutching the captain’s hand. She could only stare dumbly at the man and shake her head. She felt numb and cold all over. Surely this big brute couldn’t be the husband Lord Geoffrey had chosen for her. He certainly bore no resemblance to the handsome young man she’d seen that evening so long ago.

“It’s been a long time, Hargrave,” she heard Gunn say.

“Not long enough,” the injured captain said between clenched teeth.

“Don’t worry about your lady here. I’ll take good care of her while you’re recovering.” Gunn’s tone was mocking. Alice wanted to slap the smirk off his face.

“Not my lady… not mine…” Hargrave whispered, then lapsed into unconsciousness.

Alice felt cold through and through. All her glorious plans seemed to lie in ruins. She glanced up. This man couldn’t be
her
Christopher Gunn.

A
lice remained silent from shock as Gunn led her out of the infirmary. All of her pretty dreams seemed to have vanished in the blink of an eye. Perhaps Captain Hargrave was mistaken. Feverish with his wound and out of his head with pain, he had only
thought
the man with her was her intended. But, no. The tall, fire-bearded stranger had owned up to being Christopher Gunn.

She stared hard at him. This couldn’t be the same young man she’d lost her heart to when she was a tiny child, living a secluded life with her mother at Lord Balfour’s manor. Nor did he resemble the elegant gentleman she’d seen in the miniature her late husband had shown her. The artist’s rendering on porcelain had matched her own memory of a handsome fellow dressed in a brocade satin coat with fine lace at his throat. His skin had been smooth and fair where now it was ruddy and sunburned. There had been a sweet shyness in his smile and a touch of sadness in his deep-set green eyes. Now all she saw when she looked at him was cunning and perhaps a streak of cruelty. The contrast to her memory of Christopher Gunn was shocking. Now he looked more heathen than cultured Scotsman, and any hint of elegance had long since deserted him.

“We’ll see to your things and find you a place to bed down. Then, Lady Alice, I believe that you and I need to talk. I want to know what that was all about in there. According to Hargrave, you’ve come here looking for me. You’ll want to explain, I’m sure.”

His accusatory tone annoyed Alice, who glared at him. “You needn’t pretend you don’t know why I’m here. My husband wrote to you—he told me so.”

“Your husband?” Gunn stopped for a moment and stared down at her. “What kind of man would allow his wife to make a trip like this all alone?” Before Alice could set him straight, he continued, “Ah, I think I understand now. He came on ahead of you, and he wants to hire me to take you to him. Well, you’ll both have a long wait. Now that the Indians are settling down for the winter, the trapping season’s upon us. The Crown doesn’t pay me much as a go-between with the Abenaki, so I’m making my fortune in the fur trade. I’ll be heading up the Kennebec soon with no time nor inclination to escort a pampered young woman about the territory.”

Alice shook her head. “You don’t understand anything. My husband is dead. That’s why he sent me here. Don’t pretend you aren’t aware of the facts.”

“A widow, eh?” He stared at her with new interest. “Just who was your husband?”

Before Alice could answer, she spied Pegeen sitting on her trunk surrounded by a dozen eager-eyed men. The girl was obviously enthralled by all the attention. Alice was horrified. She’d have to keep a tight rein on her maid in this place. Hurrying ahead, she shooed the ruffians away as if they were a pesky flock of chickens after a plump, golden kernel of corn.

“Leave my girl be, all of you,” she warned.

The men glanced at Gunn. He nodded to them. “Do as the lady says. Go on about your business, boys.”

The disappointed fellows hung their heads and grumbled among themselves, but they obeyed Gunn’s command.

“You see what you’re up against here,” he said to Alice. “Women are few and far between in these parts. Except for the Indian maids who come to camp occasionally, these men never set eyes on a female unless they can get down Boston way. You’ll cause nothing but trouble and more trouble for as long as you’re here.”

Alice, giving Pegeen a good scolding, hardly heard what Gunn was saying to her. Finally she turned to face him. “Mr. Gunn, perhaps you could take us to our lodgings now. I don’t want Peg exposed to any more unwanted advances from these men.”

“Oh, they wasn’t unwanted, mum,” Pegeen confessed, her face aglow. “Every lad among them was a dear. They treated me as if I was as fine a lady as yourself.”

Gunn laughed out loud, then leaned down to whisper to Alice, “That one will be well bedded before the next full moon, you mark my words. As for you, Lady Alice, widow or no, you won’t be far behind her, if you know what’s good for you. A woman can’t survive alone in the Maine woods.”

Alice turned furiously on the man, but refused to dignify his remarks with any comment. “If you will kindly see us to our rooms, sir.”

He chuckled and bowed slightly. “This way, ladies. The fort commandant reserves these quarters especially for important guests.” He paused and looked Alice up and down. “I think you qualify.”

Their “rooms” turned out to be a single tiny cubbyhole at the end of one of the log buildings. With darkness coming on, the air outside had grown nippy. Alice was thankful the room had a fireplace between the two cots. Besides that, it held only a small rough table and two chairs. Pegs along the wall would serve as a wardrobe. Moth-eaten animal skins were scattered about the dirt floor and covered the single narrow window.

Alice shuddered at the thought of spending even one night in such a place, but she was too weary to object. She reminded herself that this was only temporary. Soon she would be in a proper manor in Norumbega, as long as she could convince Christopher Gunn to guide her there. Marriage to the man was of course out of the question. Even if she found him to her liking, he’d said earlier that he had someone in his cabin, and she assumed he meant his wife. With that in mind, she offered up a silent prayer of thanks for her own deliverance and another for his poor wife’s endurance.

Not waiting for an invitation, Gunn pulled out one of the chairs, slung a long leg over the seat, and straddled it, crossing his arms over the rough-hewn back.

“All right, Lady Alice, I’m ready to hear your story.”

Alice glanced about, trying to figure a way for them to have a private conversation. Pegeen was huddled near the hearth, feeding fat pine cones to the glowing embers. To the young servant’s obvious delight, they sputtered and popped like firecrackers. There was nowhere Alice could send the girl. She would simply have to let her eavesdrop to her heart’s content.

“You said your husband wrote to me, but you still haven’t told me his name,” Gunn said. “Were we acquaintances back in England?”

“Indeed you were,” Alice answered, anxious now to shock the Scotsman. “I’ve been married these five years past to Lord Geoffrey Balfour.”

“Lord Geoffrey’s dead?” He stared at her as if the fact was both difficult and painful to comprehend. “I didn’t know,” he added quietly. “I’m sorry. He was a good man, a good friend.”

“He was also a good husband,” Alice added.

Gunn was silent for a moment, staring down at the bare dirt floor. After a time he squinted up at Alice, letting his gaze examine first her face and then the rest of her trim figure. “But you’re so young. How could you have married such an old man?”

“Watch what you say, Gunn,” she warned. “That old man, as you so callously put it, was very dear to me.

“And to me,” he quickly responded. “But you’re what? Barely eighteen?”

“Nineteen,” Alice answered proudly, tossing her long golden hair with youthful pride.

Gunn stared at her even harder. It wasn’t uncommon for young women to wed men twice or even three times their age. Still, the idea of this fresh, spirited beauty as the sickly old lord’s wife seemed beyond comprehension. “You married Lord Geoffrey when you were fourteen years old? My God! He was old enough to be your grandfather. What kind of husband could he—?”

“That’s none of your affair,” Alice cut in sharply. “We were happy together. Enough said. He must have explained the circumstances of our marriage in his letter to you.”

Gunn shook his head emphatically. “I received no letter.”

“But he told me—”

“No letter arrived,” Gunn repeated. “This isn’t England, Lady Alice. Our mails are unreliable at best. You saw what happened today. Captain Hargrave’s ship wasn’t the first to be attacked by coastal pirates. Whatever mail he might have been carrying now lies at the bottom of Penobscot Bay. Other ships go down in storms or simply sail into oblivion. The sea is a treacherous place. Who’s to say what happened to Lord Geoffrey’s letter? The only thing certain is that it never reached me.

Alice sagged into the other chair, staring at her trembling hands. Explaining things to Gunn would be much more difficult now. Then she brightened—at least he knew nothing of the plans for her to become his wife. She could simply hire him to take her to Norumbega.

“I have a deed to land hereabouts, left to me by my husband,” she began. “His holdings were large, and I believe he wanted you to share this inheritance. That’s why he sent me here—to find you so that we could claim his empire together.”

“Empire?” Gunn bellowed. “What in the world are you talking about, woman?”

“You’ll believe me when I show you the deed.”

She rose to go to her jewel box, but Gunn waved his hand to indicate that he had no wish to see her important papers.

“I don’t know what land Lord Geoffrey might have left you, but your paper’s worthless, I can tell you that much.”

Alice turned on him. “How can you say that when you haven’t even seen the deed?”

“Are you willing to fight for your land? That’s what you’ll have to do to claim it.”

“Fight whom?” Alice demanded.

“Baron de Saint Castin, the Abenaki Indians, and the whole damn French army, that’s whom.”

“The land is legally mine,” Alice insisted.

“Even though the Crown recognizes your ownership, your legal rights won’t hold up here in Maine. This whole territory is debatable land, still being fought over from day to day. It belongs to the nation with the fiercest and most cunning warriors. Right now the English hold it, but the French will be back any day to dispute our claim.”

Still convinced of her rights, Alice dug the deed out of her box and thrust the rolled parchment into Gunn’s hands.

For a time he stared at Alice’s papers in silence. Then slowly he shook his head. “I don’t believe this,” he muttered. “Lord Geoffrey had such a clear head for business. How could he have been swindled so?”

“What are you talking about?” Alice demanded.

He looked up at her, his face hard with anger. “This deed isn’t worth the sheepskin it’s written on.”

Not understanding, Alice insisted, “If we go to Norumbega, claim the land, start to build, surely we’ll be able to hold the property. I have to try—for Lord Geoffrey’s sake.”

Gunn shoved the document away with a muttered oath. “Norumbega does not exist. Some early explorers of this region made up the whole tale—gold-paved streets, crystal palaces, pearls and silver in the streams—to astound their rivals. Part of the story is taken from Indian legend and the rest is pure greedy fantasy.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Gunn shrugged. “Believe what you will, but I’m telling you, you have no land.”

Alice sighed deeply. What was the use? Why had she even come here? “What am I going to do?” she said as much to herself as to Gunn.

“You can’t stay here at the fort for long,” he answered. “You and Pegeen would be the only females in the midst of a gang of woman-hungry men. With winter coming on, there won’t be any ships sailing out of here for England for months, so you can’t go home.”

“I certainly can’t.” Alice was too weary and disillusioned to tell him the whole story—that there were still those in England who wanted her hanged as a witch. Without Lord Balfour’s protection, she wouldn’t stand a chance if she returned.

“I’ll see what I can do about getting you to Boston. I have a friend, William Phips, who lives there. I’m sure his wife, Mary, would take you and Pegeen in for a time.” He looked up at her with a crooked grin on his face. “There’s Jonathan Hargrave, too. I gather the bold captain would like nothing better than to stand as your protector. If he lives, you’ve got no problem, Lady Alice. You can marry the poor devil and put him out of his lovesick misery.”

A few hours earlier Alice would have scoffed at such a suggestion, but now it seemed to make sense. “And if he doesn’t live?” she asked quietly.

Gunn shrugged. “If you’re in the market for a husband, you’ve come to the right place. Any man among those you saw out there would take you as his wife in a second.”

Alice stared at him, unbelieving. “Just like that?” she asked, snapping her fingers. “I’m simply to go out there, look them over, and say, ‘I’ll take this one. Wrap him for me, please.’”

Gunn’s laughter boomed in the room.

“I don’t see anything funny about the situation, Mr. Gunn. Why, I’d as soon marry you as any of those ruffians we saw earlier.”

This time he didn’t laugh. Instead, he looked her over again, making Alice feel like a slave on the block. He cocked his head to one side, smiled, and nodded. “Done, dear lady! I’ll take you up on your offer.”

Alice’s mouth fell open. For several moments she couldn’t find her voice. When she did speak at last, the words came out choked and garbled. “You? I’d never… not in a hundred, not in a million years. Lord Geoffrey didn’t know what he was… You? Gunn, might I remind you that you already have a wife?”

He looked at her, puzzled, then laughed as he remembered his earlier remark to Pegeen. There was a pretty woman in his cabin all right, but not by his doing. “No, you misunderstood. I said I have a
woman
already. There’s a vast difference.”

Alice swallowed hard, trying not to show her embarrassment.

“Ah, now I’ve gone and made you blush,” Gunn said with a smile. “Forgive me, Alice.”

“Lady Alice to you!” She turned away quickly, trying to avoid his gaze.

“All right, for now, but once we’re wed I’ll have to call you something else.” He tilted his head to one side, musing aloud, “Perhaps Mrs. Gunn or Goodwife Gunn or… no, I like just plain Alice.”

“I think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself,” Alice said, fuming. “There’s no way in hell I’d ever marry you! I can’t help what my husband wanted.” Alice covered her mouth quickly. The words had simply slipped out. How could she have let that happen?

Gunn’s shaggy eyebrows rose and he leaned closer. “What’s that you say, Lady Alice? Maybe you haven’t told me the whole truth about your husband’s letter?”

Pegeen interrupted before Alice could reply. “Mum, I’ve burned all the cones. I’ll be going out now to fetch some more.”