Love's Tender Fury Page 5

  “Afternoon, luv,” the bailiff said. “Time to visit ’is lordship. ’E’s waitin’ for you in th’ courtroom. Burt ’ere’s gonna take th’ shackles off your ankles, though we’ll just leave th’ others in place for th’ time bein’.”

  I was still sitting on the cot. The locksmith squatted down in front of me and flipped my skirts up over my legs. He gripped one of my calves and began to rattle the keys. The bailiff stood there watching, the grin still in place as he eyed my legs. When the shackles were finally off, the locksmith ran his hands over my legs. I knew better than to protest. He gave my knee a tight squeeze and then stood up, his face expressionless. The bailiff pulled me to my feet.

  “We’re goin’ for a little walk now, luv. You be’ave, ’ear? If you was to try anything foolish, I’d ’ave to ’urt you. Wouldn’t wanna do that, you bein’ such a lady ’n’ all.”

  Gripping one of my elbows, he led me out of the cell and down a long, dim corridor. The chain suspended between my wrists clanked loudly. We turned a corner and moved down a much wider corridor with candles burning in brass wall sconces. Finally, we entered an extremely narrow hallway and stopped in front of the door at its end.

  “You go on in, luv,” the bailiff said. “’E’ll be waitin. I’ll stay out ’ere standin’ guard, so don’t try nothin’ clever now—”

  He opened the door for me. I stepped forward to find myself on an elevated platform at the side of the courtroom, waist-high wooden banisters on three sides, the door behind me. The platform was perhaps four feet up from the floor. The courtroom was dark and gloomy, paneled with varnished brown wood. There were several rows of benches in front of another, much wider, platform with three carpeted steps leading up. Here the magistrate sat behind an enormous fumed oak desk, a clerk sitting in a chair to his right. Both were immersed in paperwork, and neither looked up as they heard me enter. There was no one else in the room.

  I studied the man in whose hands my fate rested. He was extremely thin, his shoulders wide and bony. His lips were like two sharp slits, his nose a crooked beak, his hard gray eyes half-concealed by lowered lids. He had the same sour, pinched look as Lady Mallory, the same icy manner. The powdery white wig on his head was slightly askew. The clerk asked a question, pointing to one of the papers. Roderick Mann snapped a reply that caused the clerk to flush uncomfortably.

  I gripped the banister in front of me. My chain rattled noisily. The magistrate looked up with venomous eyes.

  “Marietta Danver?” he said harshly,

  “That is my name, sir.”

  “Lately of number 10 Montague Square?”

  I nodded. I could feel the hope draining away. This man was cold and hard, a man who thrived on hatred and had no knowledge of compassion or mercy. He gathered up a sheaf of papers and waved them at me.

  “Marietta Danver, I have here evidence that you are guilty of a most grave offense.” His voice was like ice splintering. “These are sworn statements—from Lord Robert Mallory and his wife, Lady Agatha, from Patrick Clancy and Bernard Higgins, two men in my employ. They testify that you—”

  The room seemed to spin, and I gripped the railing tightly, losing track of his words. All at once I knew that the hope I had been nourishing had been sheer folly. The three of them had probably taken tea together, discussed my fate, and decided upon it. There would be no trial; I would have no chance to defend myself. This parody of justice was a mere formality. I was doomed, had been doomed since the moment I first defied Lord Mallory. He and his wife and her uncle were merely using the law as an instrument of vengeance. The magistrate’s voice went on and on, hard, unyielding, and I shook my head, knowing I had no way to protect myself.

  “—my duty to pass sentence upon you,” he concluded, “but before I do, is there anything you wish to say for yourself?”

  “I’m innocent,” I whispered.

  “Speak up!”

  “I’m innocent! I—the jewelry was not stolen. You know that. This—this is a mockery! I want a trial! I—”

  “Enough!”

  “You—you’re part of it. She’s your niece. You can’t—”

  “Silence!”

  I continued to shake my head, and tears spilled down my cheeks despite my efforts to check them. I felt faint, and had I not been gripping the railing I would probably have crumpled to the floor. The room seemed to be filled with a fine mist now, a mist that thickened, gradually enveloping me. It stung my cheeks, stung my eyes, and I lowered my lids, moving my lips in a silent prayer. His voice seemed to come from a great distance.

  “It is my duty … Newgate Prison, to be confined until … public execution on the gallows at Tyburn Fields … to swing from your neck until dead …”

  A cloud of black wings rushed over me, closing everything else out, and I heard him shout for the bailiff. The door behind me flew open, and strong arms seized me before I could fall. The bailiff held me tightly, and gradually the wings vanished. I was in a state of shock, and through the mist I could see the man who had just condemned me. He tapped his long fingers impatiently on the desktop, eager to be done with it.

  “Is she all right now?” he asked querulously.

  “I think so, your lordship,” the bailiff replied. “I’d best ’old to ’er, though, just in case she ’as another spell.”

  “It is my duty to send you to Newgate and thence to the gallows,” the magistrate continued in a bored voice, “but as you have no previous criminal record and as your employers asked the court to show mercy, that sentence shall not be passed. Instead of hanging, you shall be transported to His Majesty’s colonies in North America. An article of indenture shall be issued, and you shall be sold at public auction to the highest bidder, to serve no less than seven years …”

  The rest of his words seemed to fade away, and the next thing I knew, the bailiff was leading me back down the corridors to my cell.

  “You’re lucky,” he told me. “Most thieves’d ’ang. Not you, luv. ’Is lordship gave you a break. You oughta be thankful. You oughta get down on your knees ’n’ thank th’ Lord that Roderick Mann ’as such a kind, merciful ’eart—”

  PART ONE: Carolina

  I

  I’ll never forget my first sight of the new land, America, the wild and tumultuous country where fate had brought me. I was standing on the ship’s deck, surrounded by coils of rope and wooden lifeboats, the clutter concealing me. I spent much of my time there—anything to escape the foul atmosphere below with its filth, congestion, and horrible odors. I wasn’t supposed to be on deck, of course. It was forbidden. We were given our “exercise” once a day, closely supervised, and the rest of the time we were to remain below. This secret place was my haven, shown to me by the strapping blond sailor who had befriended me only a few days after the ship left Liverpool.

  He was a rugged, roughhewn lad with a merry smile and flashing blue eyes. Brawny, illiterate, he had spotted me the first time I slipped up the stairs to catch a breath of fresh air. He didn’t turn me in. Instead, he led me past barrels of tar and showed me this small area where I could take fresh air without being discovered. I was exceedingly grateful. One of the other women had come up on deck only the day before. She had been caught, had been tied to a mast and brutally whipped as an “example.” I had been willing to risk that, and young Jack had admired my courage.

  Naturally he expected to be paid. I paid. His lovemaking was rough and energetic, yet there was a surprising tenderness, as well. Afterwards he would hold me in his arms, stroking my breasts, stroking my hair, as though I were some precious object he had miraculously been given to relieve the tedium and rigorous hardships of the voyage. I gave willingly, and I was not ashamed of it. This crude, muscular sailor with his gruff voice and amiable grin showed me that lovemaking could be wildly elating, could be satisfying to a woman as well as a man. I enjoyed it, and I was grateful as well. After the treatment I had received from Lord Mallory and the two thief-takers, I might well have nourished some terrible fear abou
t the act of love, might have connected it in my mind with disgust and loathing, had it not been for Jack and his healthy, robust attitude. He taught me a great deal. He also enabled me to survive the voyage.

  Not all of us did. One of the women went insane and ran screaming up the stairs to hurl herself over the railing. Almost everyone was sick from scurvy. Two of the women died from it, teeth and hair falling out. The brawling, bickering group of female prisoners who boarded the ship at Liverpool were soon turned into a lethargic, dispirited lot who huddled on their narrow bunks like zombies, patiently enduring the filth, the abuse of our “keepers,” the wretched, skimpily doled-out food and the horribly fetid air. The male prisoners who were kept down in the hull on the other side of the ship fared no better. There were beatings every day with the cat-o’-nine-tails, horror and humiliation a way of life for all prisoners.

  Jack saved me from that. Not only did he provide me with a haven on deck, he also had a “talk” with the three brutal guards whose duty it was to watch over the female prisoners. Hands on hips, a lopsided grin on his face, he casually informed them that he had a “special interest in th’ redhead” and added that any man who touched me he’d choke to death with his bare hands and then toss overboard without a second thought. Since he was well over six feet tall, with a bronzed, muscular body, he was formidable indeed. The guards left me alone. Surly, sadistic, they took great delight in abusing others, but I never tasted the lash, never had to endure the rutting, grunting sexual assaults that were nightly occurrences for the other women.

  Jack also brought me food—beef, ale, decent bread, cheese, lemons and limes to prevent the dreadful scurvy. I knew he was running a great risk, but he seemed to enjoy defying his superiors and putting something over on “th’ bloody sods.” Jack was a dandy fellow, popular with all his fellow sailors. They knew about me, of course. There was no way they could help knowing, but while they might envy Jack and make coarse jokes about his “private piece of tail,” they helped him keep it from the ship’s officers. Had any of the officers discovered his little escapade, Jack could have received fifty lashes, could even have been hanged for associating with one of the prisoners. This danger merely added another fillip of excitement as far as Jack was concerned. He considered it all a jolly lark.

  The stars were fading and dawn was about to break that last time we were together. He had made a nest of blankets under one of the lifeboats, and he held me loosely in his arms, idly caressing my breasts. I felt warm and secure, loving his salty, sweaty smell, his large, muscular body. I had grown quite fond of him, and I hated to think that I would soon lose my protector. Jack sighed, wrapping his strong arms around me, pulling me closer against his sturdy frame.

  “We’ll be landin’ today,” he said. “I reckon it’ll be sometime this afternoon—early on, I figure. Should be able to see th’ shore soon as it gets light enough.”

  “I—I hate to think about it,” I confessed.

  “You’ve grown kinda fond-a Jack, ain’t-ja?”

  “Of course I have.”

  “Makes me feel right proud. I’ve ’ad my share of women, but I ain’t never ’ad one like you, wench. Strange, ain’t it, us meetin’ like this? I reckon you wouldn’t give me a second look under normal circumstances. No, you’d be a ’igh ’n’ mighty lady, much too good to even speak to th’ likes-a me.”

  “That—that isn’t so,” I lied.

  “Aw, no sense pretendin’. I’ve been bloody lucky an’ I know it. Crude chap like me—gettin’ to ’ave a wench like you. It’s a bloody miracle. All my mates’re green with envy. Ol’ Jack really landed in a pot o’ jam this time, they say. Not one of ’em wouldn’t give everythin’ they ’ave to be in my boots right now.”

  “They never betrayed us.”

  “Naw, they wouldn’t. Wouldn’t dare. Know I’d ’ave their ’ide if they so much as ’inted to any of th’ officers what was goin’ on. I could beat any man jack of ’em to a pulp an’ they know it. They’re good chaps, though, my mates. They wouldn’t-a told even if they wasn’t afraid o’ my fists.”

  “The stars are almost gone,” I said quietly.

  “Yeah, in just a few minutes th’ sky’s gonna turn all pink an’ gold an’ orange. I’ll ’ave to be gettin’ about my duties. I reckon we won’t ’ave a chance to see each other again.”

  “I suppose we won’t,” I said in a sad voice.

  “No use bein’ grim about it,” he replied. “We still ’ave time for one more round. Come on, lass, let’s say goodbye to each other in th’ best possible way.”

  Later, Jack rolled off me and climbed to his feet, buttoning his breeches and fastening his belt. Reaching for his jersey, he pulled it over his head. The cloth strained and stretched across his powerful shoulders and chest. Shoving the damp blond locks from his brow, he stared out across the railing. The stars were gone. The sky was a faint, misty gray with a barely perceptible touch of pink. The ship rocked. I could hear waves sloshing against the hull, hear the creak and groan of wood. I sat up and adjusted the bodice of my dress, feeling sleepy and satisfied and extremely sad. This man had come to mean a lot to me. I might very well owe him my life.

  Jack turned to look at me. His expression was grim.

  “Don’t you fret none, lass. I know what you’re thinkin’—you’re thinkin’ of what’s to come. It’s gonna be rough, no doubt about that, but you’re gonna make it. You’re gonna come through it all with flyin’ colors. You got strength an’ you got character, an’ nothin’ is gonna hold you back for long.”

  “I—I wish I weren’t so frightened. They’re going to auction us off like—like African slaves. We’re going to be sold to the highest bidders. I—I’ve tried not to think about it, but—”

  “I know, lass. I ain’t never ’ad much ambition, ain’t never ’ad any desire to be a rich man, but this is one time. I wish I ’ad me a whole stack of gold. If I ’ad, I’d jump ship soon as we land. I’d go to that auction an’ buy you myself. We’d set out across America together, regular pioneers we’d be. We’d love and we’d fight an’ even though I’d set yuh free, you wouldn’t want your freedom. You wouldn’t want nothin’ but Jack Reed—night ’n’ day.”

  “If only it could be that way.”

  “Take ’eart, lass. A wench looks like you, ’as such a fine education an’ all, she’s gonna fetch th’ ’ighest price goin’. Anyone who ’as enough gold to pay for you is bloody well gonna ’ave enough sense to take good care of ’is investment.”

  Catching hold of the lifeboat, I pulled myself to my feet. The ship rocked precariously, and I stumbled. Jack caught me, holding me against his chest. I wrapped my arms around his neck and tilted my head back to look up into his eyes. He smelled of sweat and salt and tar, and he was not at all good-looking with his too-wide mouth and sharp nose, but he was the kindest man I had ever known. My heart was actually aching, and I could no longer hold back the tears. They spilled over my lashes and made tiny wet trails down my cheeks.

  “’Ere,” he said in a scolding voice, “that ain’t no way to carry on. Tears’re for them weak, whinin’ women who ain’t got no backbone. You’re strong, Marietta. You got determination an’ a will of iron.”

  “I don’t feel very strong at the moment.”

  Jack wiped the tears from my cheek. “You’re gonna make it, lass, just like I said. No more cryin’, you ’ear? Come on now, let’s see a smile.”

  I smiled feebly, but my heart wasn’t in it. Jack held me tightly as the gray disappeared from the sky and the clouds were tinged with gold. We could hear the crew moving busily about their duties now, calling to one another in rough, coarse voices. It was time for him to go. Both of us realized that.

  “We’ll never see each other again,” I said.

  “Aw, I don’t know about that. Life’s a crazy thing. Who knows? I ain’t aimin’ to be a sailor th’ rest of my life. I have a hankerin’ to see somethin’ of this vast new country we’re comin’ to. In two or three years I just
might give up th’ seafarin’ life an’ give the colonies th’ once-over. Maybe we’ll run into each other.”

  “Maybe so,” I replied, without conviction.

  The sky was a blaze of pink and orange now, and for one brief moment the sea was a-spangle with flecks of gold that danced and shimmered as the waves moved. I looked up at the man who had been my salvation these long, misery-laden weeks, and then, standing on tiptoes, I kissed that wide, amiable mouth, brushing my lips tenderly against his. Jack gave me one last squeeze, an exuberant hug that almost cracked my ribs. Making a fist with his right hand, he tapped me gently on the chin, grinned his rakish grin, and sauntered around the lifeboats and out of sight.

  I stood at the railing, gripping it tightly in an attempt to control my emotions. I tried to believe what he had told me. I tried to believe that I would come through it all with flying colors, that I was as strong as he said I was. I was afraid of the future, now more so than ever, for with Jack I had had a respite from the horror and humiliation. He had protected me, and now he was gone and I had no one to turn to. I was desolate and feeling utterly vulnerable.

  Heavy gray clouds obscured the sun. The flecks of gold vanished from the water, the waves a lead gray now, the air thick with mist. I could smell salt, and I could smell land, too. In the distance there was the shrill, squawking cry of a gull. I knew that I should go back down to the hull and gather my few things up, but I lingered there at the railing to stare down at the swirling water that slapped so viciously against the ship, causing it to crack and groan like some ponderous brown wooden animal with canvas wings. The warm, wondrous glow that was the aftermath of our lovemaking had gone now, and I felt cold, chilled to the bone.

  A long time passed. The heavy gray clouds began to thin and separate, evaporating, and I saw patches of steel-blue sky through the rift. Sunlight spilled down in bright silvery rays that reflected in the water, and as the gloom left the sea, so did it leave me. That hard core was still inside me, still sustaining me, and the determination to survive was stronger than ever. I had survived the sea voyage, and that in itself was something. Three women had died, and the others were pitiful shells of humanity, dull, dispirited. If anything, thanks to Jack’s care, I was healthier than I had been at the beginning of the voyage.