Carola Dunn (20 page)

“This here’s me and Annie’s cabin.” He gestured at one of the doors. “We got Miss Esperanza in wi’ us, and Gayo too. T’other’s for your lordship and Miss Beckie.”

“What the devil?” John exploded, dropping his arm from Rebecca’s waist as if it burned him. “There must be another cabin, or Annie and the child can share with Beckie.”

“‘Tis right sorry I am, m’lord, but it seems as Prince Nikolai had to up and tell the captain as you’re married. These Finns be Lutherans, he said, and right straitlaced. The captain wouldn’t take you aboard if he knowed you wasn’t man and wife. Start switching things about and there’s no knowing what he’ll be thinking.”

“Damned—dashed—if I care what the man thinks.”

“Trouble is, he’ll likely tell his friends in Helsinki, and then we s’ll be in the briars right and proper.”

“He’s right, John.” Rebecca put her hand on his arm. He looked down at her, his dark eyes softening. She met his gaze steadily. “I trust you. You know that I trust you.”

For a startled moment she thought he was going to kiss her. Then he seemed to realize that this was the wrong time and the wrong place, or perhaps he saw her slight withdrawal. In any case, he shrugged and turned back to Rowson.

“I suppose it can’t be helped. Fetch Annie, if you please, to help Miss Nuthall retire. She is exhausted. And I trust a bed can be made up for me on the floor?”

Rowson opened the door of his cabin, stuck his head in and said something. Annie came out immediately.

“Hush, now, the child’s asleep. Oh, Miss Beckie, I’m that glad to see you. And your lordship too, of course. Just come with me, Miss Beckie, and we’ll soon have you tucked up cosy.” She led the way into the other cabin.

Rebecca followed, feeling tears of weakness rising in her eyes. The black maid’s motherly kindness threatened to overset her fragile composure.

Behind her she heard Rowson speaking soothingly. “There’s no reason to fear Miss Beckie’ll be compromised, m’lord. Nor Annie nor I’ll speak a word, and none o’ these here Finns is like to go to London.” The door clicked shut on John’s reply.

“And if they did there’s only one of them speaks a word of English,” Annie told Rebecca, “and not much more nor a word, neither. Here, now, let’s get that dress off. It’d best be tossed overboard, I daresay.”

“I never want to see it again, but it is all I have.” She summoned up a wavering smile.

“Bless you, miss, we’ve almost everything aboard.” Annie undid buttons as she spoke. “Lord Cathcart sent that nice Mr. Crane to fetch our bits and pieces from the house, and his lordship’s too. Even the blessed parrot, believe it if you will. A right helpful gentleman, Mr. Crane. He came to Peterhof with a carriage and brought us all here, and I heard talk of him driving off with a
brichka
tonight.”

“I thought I recognized that voice, when we left the
brichka.”
Rebecca shivered as Annie divested her of the dress, wincing as the sleeves pulled over her wrists.

“Heavens above, look at your poor arms!”

“My legs too.” She raised the hem of her petticoat to display bloodstained stockings worn in holes around the ankles.

“I knew I’d need Miss Teresa’s medicines. That was the one thing Mr. Crane left behind. I’ll fetch a spot of warm water to bathe them, miss, and some linen for bandages. Just you pop into this nightgown here, I’ve had it wrapped around a hot brick, and I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

“Bring something to eat, Annie. Anything but cabbage soup.”

Half an hour later Annie tucked the bedclothes firmly around Rebecca and bade her good-night. As she straightened she put her hand to her back and sighed. She was nearly eight months pregnant and ought not be setting out on a long voyage, but there was no choice. Rebecca resolved to be as little trouble as possible—after all she had managed without a maid at Lady Parr’s. At least she could take charge of Esperanza during the day.

The dim lantern Annie had hung by the door swung with a hypnotic rhythm as the ship cut through the waters of the Gulf of Finland. The swaying motion was familiar, soothing. Rebecca wanted to stay awake till John came, but she was tired, so tired, sinking into blessed blackness...

... And the pale dawn light crept in at the window of her cell and with it the clank of chains, the snap of the knout, the screams of men being flogged, yet it was she who screamed as her uncle’s fist slammed towards her face...

“Beckie! Beckie, hush, my darling. You’re safe, love, I won’t let anyone touch you.” John held her tenderly, rocked her against his chest, smoothing her hair with gentle fingers. “Hush now, hush, don’t cry, my dearest.”

At last her racking sobs calmed. She realized that she was in her thin muslin nightgown, and John wore only a nightshirt. She ought to move, to cover herself. The warm strength of his body against hers comforted her, and yet she felt a strange agitation. His eyes were black, unfathomable pools in the dim light. Drowning in them, she drifted into sleep, cherished in his arms.

* * * *

In the morning, he had already risen and left the cabin before she woke. She knew she had been dreaming, but what was dream and what was reality she could not tell.

There was a tap on the door as she lay there musing, and she called, “Come in!”

A little blonde head peered round the door and then Esperanza sped across the narrow cabin to fling her arms around Rebecca’s neck.

“I did miss you, Aunt Beckie!”

“I missed you too, Chiquita. Let me get up, and while I dress you must tell me what you have been doing.”

“I falled in the stream in Uncle John’s new garden. Annie was cross.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, she chattered merrily, her chubby legs in frilled trowsers swinging beneath her dark red woollen dress.

To Rebecca, she brought a note of normalcy, an everyday conventionality, into a world that had recently been topsy-turvy. With the little girl explaining why she had used her shoe to try to catch a fish, it was impossible to think about chains and dungeons, impossible to brood on whether John’s sweet words had been real or only part of a dream.

And when she went to join him at breakfast in the small saloon, it was impossible to be embarrassed with Chiquita tugging on her hand and announcing her:

“Uncle John, look! Aunt Beckie’s wearing a red shawl to match my dress. Isn’t she pretty?”

After an appeal like that, his answer was not to be taken seriously, though the look in his eyes was more difficult to dismiss.

“Indeed she is, Chiquita. What a lucky man I am to be escorting the two most beautiful ladies in the world.”

“Not counting Mama.”

“Not counting Mama, of course,” he said obligingly, laughing. “Cousin Rebecca, you will be glad to hear that Rowson has it from the first mate, who speaks a little English, that we have a brisk following wind and are making excellent time. The captain expects to reach Helsinki tonight and we shall be put ashore at once.”

Rebecca blushed. Naturally it would be a relief not to have to share the cabin with John for another night—so why was her predominant emotion disappointment?

She was not sure whether she hoped or dreaded that he would seek her out for private conversation. If anything, he seemed to make an effort to avoid it. This was not difficult, as she spent most of the day with Esperanza, while Annie sewed the greater part of John’s gold into a money-belt. It was too cold on deck for more than a brief venture for fresh air, and their accommodations below were strictly limited.

When Esperanza and Annie both retired for an afternoon nap and Rowson had gone to take the dirty nuncheon dishes to the galley, Rebecca did try to thank John for rescuing her.

“I don’t want your gratitude,” he said almost savagely, getting up from the table and wandering restlessly about the saloon. “Besides, Kolya had a great deal more to do with it than I did.”

“I am sorry I cannot thank Prince Nikolai. I dare not even write when we reach home, since they sometimes open letters from abroad, do they not? It was chivalrous in him to run such risks for my sake.”

“I wish to God I could have done what he did! I was useless, my hands were tied. He could have managed the whole business without me.”

“But would he? I think that if you had not been there, he might not even have noticed my absence. Without you nothing would have been done. And you hazarded your life to take me from that place.” She shuddered at the memory.

He was behind her in an instant, his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t think about it. It is past. Forget it.” He straightened as Rowson came in. “I’m going up on deck for a few minutes. If you will finish that picture, I shall cut it up to make a puzzle for Chiquita when I come back.”

Mr. Crane had missed the medicine chest, but he had collected Esperanza’s coloured chalks. Rebecca added green fronds to the palm-tree in the picture she had attempted of Turkey, where Teresa and Andrew were now wandering. Absentmindedly she drew in a scarlet-breasted robin. Did they have robins in Turkey? No matter, Esperanza would not care.

She could not understand why John seemed to resent her gratitude. His irritation at her wanting to thank Kolya was easier to explain:
his
old feelings of incompetence had taken on a new life when he had had to look on while the prince played the major part in her rescue. Perhaps she should point out to him that it was not a case of ability or lack thereof. Kolya had simply been in the right position to help.

When he came down again he was lively and amusing, scoffing at her robin, but she knew that he had withdrawn from her. It was to late to try to reassure him. The brief moment of intimacy was over.

Chapter 17

The northern nights were long at this time of year, but even so it was nearing dawn when the little group was set ashore with their baggage on the Helsinki quay. The sky was paling in the east, and the captain was anxious to conceal their arrival before awkward questions were asked.

Esperanza, woken from a sound sleep, was crying, her face buried in the folds of Rebecca’s cloak. She refused to let John pick her up. Rebecca, by no means recovered from her ordeal, was exhausted and Annie looked to
be in not much better case. From Gayo’s cage, well wrapped against the cold, came a reproachful mutter.

“What a pity, what a pity,” Rebecca thought she heard him say.

They were all relieved to see the tall, blonde first mate approaching along the quay, talking earnestly to another man, shorter but even fairer of hair under his fur cap.

“Risto Hakiinen,” the officer introduced his companion. “You go with. He take care. Good luck!” He bowed to Rebecca, shook hands with John, and walked off towards the ship.

Risto Hakiinen seemed to be somewhat nonplussed by the unexpected appearance of five fugitives. Fortunately he spoke good Russian and his grasp of English was somewhat greater than the first mate’s. He hurried them from their exposed position on the waterfront into a weathered wooden hut nearby, that appeared to be a watchman’s shelter.

The watchman was within, huddled over a small iron stove, and a samovar was bubbling on an upended barrel. Hakiinen said something to the grizzled old man, who turned and favoured his visitors with a gap-toothed grin.

“Russki,” he mumbled, and spat on the floor, then made a gesture of invitation.

“He asks you sit,” their guide explained. “I must go, make plans. You wait here safe.”

“Our luggage,” protested John. “Bags. Outside.” They had brought only what little they could carry, of which Gayo’s muffled cage formed a large part.

Hakiinen nodded. “Bring safe. Not worry.” He slipped out of the shed.

They sat gingerly on a variety of broken crates. The watchman had filled several chipped, stained earthenware mugs with hot tea, and now he offered them to his guests. Rebecca hoped that the boiling water made it safe to accept, for she felt more in need of a dish of tea than of anything else in the world. She would not let Esperanza take the half-nibbled lump of sugar the old man presented her with. The little girl pouted and ran to John, who took her on his lap and kept her amused with a finger-counting game.

Conversation languished. It seemed a very long time before Hakiinen returned, but when they followed him out the sun had not yet risen. A closed carriage was waiting, and Rebecca was glad to see all their baggage tied on behind. Rowson helped her, and then Annie, into the vehicle, then stood waiting. John, with Esperanza in his arms, was talking to Hakiinen.

Rebecca could not make out their low-voiced conversation, but John was frowning. At last he joined them, Rowson jumped in behind him, the Finn climbed up beside the coachman, and the carriage started off.

She laid her hand on his sleeve. “What is it, John? Has he not been able to find anywhere for us to go?”

“On the contrary. It seems Helsinki is full of people who hate their Russian overlords and are willing to take us in. However, he insists that we must each go to a different house. It will be too conspicuous, he claims, to have all of us together. I cannot like it.”

“Do you mistrust him?”

“No,” he admitted reluctantly. “I believe him sincere. Only I hate to be separated from…to split up our group.”

“Surely he will not make Chiquita go alone with strangers!”

“No, no! Nothing so drastic.”

“Then she shall go with me and we shall do very well, shall we not, Chiquita?”

Apparently she was forgiven for the sugarlump incident, for the child scrambled off John’s lap onto hers and gave her a smacking kiss.

“I don’t like to leave Annie, and that’s a fact, m’lord.” Rowson too was dismayed. “S’posing her time were to come?”

Annie patted his hand. “I daresay Finns have babies too. Don’t worry ‘bout me. Tell you what, love, you can take the parrot for company.”

Both Rebecca and John managed to laugh at that. It was a half-hearted sound, but the maid’s indomitable spirit deserved a response, and Esperanza looked less frightened.

“How long is it likely to be for?” Rebecca asked John. While Finns undoubtedly reproduced regularly, it would be dreadful for Annie to have to go through her first confinement among strangers, who might not speak any language she knew and had probably never seen an African before.