The Golden Cross (22 page)

“I like you primarily because you are not Jan Van Oorschot,” Tasman answered abruptly, slamming his hand upon the table. “That youth has been calling upon my daughter for many months now, and I will not allow that union. If you are betrothed to my Lina while we are at sea, honor will keep her safely inside the house, and decency will keep young Jan away. I can leave safely, knowing that rascal will not steal my daughter from beneath my nose.”

“Does she love this man?” Sterling frowned, confused. “She is a child; she knows nothing of love.” Tasman smiled, but his smile held only a shadow of its former warmth. “She will
marry whomever her mother and I tell her to marry. And you, Doctor, are a fine and ambitious young man. Someday—” He spread his hands to indicate the room in which they sat.—“all this will be yours and Lina’s. But I could never rest in my eternal peace thinking of that worthless youth sitting in this house.”

Sterling shrugged to hide his confusion. “I think I understand, sir.”

Tasman lifted his glass as if to make a toast. “So—to you and Lina, who will make a fine couple.”

And then he had tilted back his glass and drunk deeply, while Sterling sipped from his goblet, weighing this new development.

A week ago he had nothing but hope and experience; now he had prospects, a betrothed bride, and a future.
God, give me the courage to face whatever lies ahead
. Thrusting his hands behind his back, he lifted his eyes from the cobblestone road to the mountainous beauty beyond the rooftops of the tidy town. This place was like heaven; he could think of nothing like it in all of Europe. Gauzy clouds drifted before the face of the mountains while birds sang in the trees and insects hummed. If all went according to Tasman’s plan, this tropical paradise would soon be his permanent home.

But was the price too dear? Could he marry this young girl, suspecting that she had feelings for another? Love took time to grow, his mother had once told him, and you could love anyone if you committed your will to it. Jesus, after all, had loved us, while we were the most unlovely sinners ….

But love, he argued with himself, lowering his eyes to the cobbled road again, shouldn’t have to be forced. Surely affection could grow into love, just as liking grew into affection, but he wasn’t certain that he even
liked
Lina Tasman. Still, one day he would take her hand and lead her into a bridal chamber where they would become one for the rest of their earthly lives.

At least Lina had a brain and the will to use it, he reminded himself. Though quiet, she was nothing at all like Ernestina, who prattled endlessly about nothing. Lina was thoughtful, at least.

He stopped again, shocked by a sudden elusive thought he could not quite catch. Something moved at the corner of his eye, and ringing shouts filled the silence of the afternoon. Turning slightly, he looked across a well-kept garden to a barn, where an old man and young woman grappled in the sunlight, the man repeatedly reaching out as if to strike the young woman in the face.

“You there! Stop at once!” Without thinking, Sterling vaulted the low stone fence and sprinted across the expanse of garden grass, lowering his shoulder until he hit the old man squarely in the gut. Amid a great screaming and screeching the old man went down, then the tussling began in earnest as some sort of harridan landed upon his back, small fists pummeling his neck in a frantic sort of rhythm.

“Get off him! Stop it!” the woman shouted, and Sterling pulled himself upright long enough to see an expression of absolute horror upon the old man’s bearded face. Sterling turned sideways to see what sort of witch rode his shoulders, but a stern command from the older gentleman halted the girl’s tirade.

“Stop! At once!” the old man wheezed. “Get away and leave this to me!”

From behind his ear, Sterling heard the girl gasp, then she flew off his shoulders as swiftly as a bird. Sterling would have followed her, but the older man firmly grasped his doublet and hung on with the tenacity of a terrier.

“Leave her be!” the old man demanded. Streams of sweat ran from his forehead. “And let me up, will you? Hand me my cane; it lies on the ground behind you.”

Stunned, Sterling rose and extended his hand, helping the old man to his feet, then retrieved the man’s cane. From the quality of the man’s clothing and manner Sterling knew immediately that this was not a fight between a groom and a maid, as he had first thought. This man wore the clothing and dignity of a gentleman, while the woman—where had she gone?

Sterling turned and looked around, but the sprite had vanished.
All he had managed to see in the midst of the brouhaha was a slender figure and a flash of red hair beneath a cap.

“I apologize, sir, if I have injured you,” Sterling forced a note of iron into his voice, “but you must understand that I felt it my duty to come to the aid of a young woman. Although ’tis obvious she was not much hurt—”

“She is not hurt at all; I am the one with a bruised cheek and a swollen nose,” the old man croaked, tenderly brushing his red nose with trembling fingers. He looked up, then gripped his cane and gave Sterling a forced smile and a tense nod of dismissal. “We thank you for your attention, sir, and wish you good day.”

“Sir—” Sterling paused. What eccentric old men did to while away their afternoons was really none of his business, but engaging in fisticuffs with a young woman, no matter how adept she was, was not a fitting entertainment for any gentleman. “Sir, if you would pardon my curiosity, what just happened here?” Sterling crossed his arms and widened his stance, making it clear that he would not leave without a word of explanation.

The older gentleman frowned, then pursed his lips. “What happened here?” He brought his hand to his neat white beard, then lifted his eyes to the sky, as if the answer might appear there. “That’s a good question,” he murmured in Dutch, probably assuming that Sterling did not speak the language. He mumbled softly, as if speaking to himself. “How
do
I explain it? The truth won’t do, and a lie would seem false no matter carefully stated.”

After a moment he lowered his gaze, gave Sterling a broad smile, and responded in English: “There is no explanation, sir, that I can give.” He shifted his heels together and bowed with formal grace. “I thank you for your noble intentions, but you can be certain I never intended to hurt the young lady.”

“Then pray have a care for yourself, sir,” Sterling answered, not moving. “I seem to recall the young lady punching at
you.”

“Did you now?” The old man tilted his head and chuckled slightly, wheezing as he drew a deep breath. “That’s good,” he
mumbled in Dutch. “Oh, that’s very good. Very credible, I must say, and after only one lesson. Of course one never knows how a situation will go in the heat of the moment, but still, that’s very good.”

Ignoring Sterling, the old man turned to walk toward the house.

“Sir!” Sterling called, more bewildered than ever. “I must have your word that you will not engage in this sort of thing again! I cannot leave the young lady if she will be in danger here.”

“She’s in no danger, sir.” The old gentleman rocked slowly on his hips as if they were stiff. “No more than I am, at least. Now good day.”

Sterling waited without moving until the old man disappeared into the house, then scratched his head and looked into the open barn. Nothing moved inside but four horses, their tails moving in rhythm, swatting horseflies away. He could see nothing of the young woman.

With a heavy sigh Sterling turned and moved back toward the garden wall. He’d stumbled onto a pair of eccentrics, maybe even lunatics. Perhaps the heat of this place got to everyone eventually.

He stepped over the garden wall and thought of supper waiting at Tasman’s house, where his silent bride-to-be would watch him eat and drink and say nothing. Lately her watchful dark eyes made him as nervous as a cat.

Perhaps it was good that he’d soon be sailing away on an extended voyage.

From her hiding place behind the hibiscus hedge, Aidan watched the stranger move away. When he had climbed back over the garden wall and moved down the street, she stood and crept back toward the barn. Her heart stirred with emotions she had thought long dead, and she needed a moment of quiet to sort through them all.

She recognized him almost instantly. He was the handsome man she’d spotted walking along the wharf weeks ago with his gunnysack over his shoulder, the one who walked with the peculiar heavy gait
of one who’d just come ashore. His striking face had remained in her mind, and this was the stranger she’d sketched for Heer Van Dyck that day in the tavern. He was still a stranger, but what a man!

How heroic he was! Supposing her in danger, he had leaped the wall and come to her rescue without a moment’s thought, nearly imperiling Schuyler’s plan. Of course her master could have truthfully explained their situation, but the upper crust of Batavia was a close-knit community. If even one person learned of Aidan’s intended disguise, it was a sure bet the entire colony would buzz of it before the expedition set sail.

Who was he? Aidan was quite sure she’d never seen him at the tavern. He’d seemed quite gallant, really, the way he hurled himself at Heer Van Dyck and forced the older man to the ground. He was an Englishman, judging by his voice, and educated, for his manners and speech hinted at a genteel background. He was too down-to-earth for an aristocrat, but he was no ruffian either.

One of the horses whinnied softly, and Aidan reached into a bin for a handful of oats and lifted her cupped hand to the horse’s soft mouth. As the gelding’s lips tickled her palm, she smiled at the thought of her handsome rescuer. How Lili would love this story! She’d have the stranger pegged as a possible husband for Aidan within five minutes of meeting him, but Aidan had never needed a husband less than she did at this moment.

The horse ran his velvety mouth over Aidan’s arm, searching for more oats, and she scolded him gently as she wiped her hand on her skirt. From this point forward, she would have to put away all thoughts of Lili, the other girls, and the tavern. She was about to become a boy in order that she might become a lady, and she couldn’t afford to be distracted by romantic notions of heroes who leaped over garden walls. She had a plan, and she would have to see it through no matter what happened.

“If you are ever going to become respectable,” she told herself, leaning against the stall as blue-veiled twilight began to creep into the barn, “you can’t think of anything else.”

A
re you ready then?” Gusta’s round face was seamed with disapproval, but Aidan nodded in contentment. They stood on the threshold of the greatest game Aidan had ever dreamed of playing, and the grandness of her ambitions still staggered her. In less than one hour Heer Van Dyck’s children would gather for dinner and Aidan would leave the house to return to the tavern, ostensibly saying farewell to the Van Dycks forever.