reason
to be on that island, a reason to have been saved. You."
"Oh, Court…"
"You were everything to me, Callie, from the moment Isabella urged me to touch my finger to your palm and you closed your fingers around mine, held on tight. I really have no idea how old I am, what my age was then— twelve, thirteen? Ainsley just guessed, as he had to do with most of us. In any event, I promised myself then, young idiot that I was, that I would spend my life protecting you, seeing that no harm ever came to you, the way it had come to me. That you'd never know pain, never be hungry, never face a night alone and frightened…"
"You've always kept that promise, Court," Cassandra told him as she reached up, kissed his cheek.
"Have I? I don't know that being here with you now is keeping my promise. I've taken something from you that I can never give back. I'm a selfish man, Callie. Selfish, and probably foolish."
She held out her arms to him as he climbed from the bed, searched out his clothing. "You took nothing I didn't all but beg you to take, Court," she said as he slipped into his clothes, reached for his boots.
"And I picked one hell of a time to do it," he said, pushing his fingers through his hair as he looked around the room, searching for her dressing gown, and then tossing it onto the bed. "Here, put this on while I go find the innkeeper and have some hot water sent up to you. We leave for Becket Hall in an hour."
"But I'm coming back with you?" she asked as she shoved her arms into the sleeves of the dressing gown. "Because we leave from the docks here, correct?"
He nodded, his mind working through all the plans he and Rian and Chance had discussed last night. It was easier to think of them than to think about Cassandra, and how much he wanted to crawl back into the bed behind him and forget the world for just another hour, another day.
At last he turned around, to look at Cassandra as she stood behind him, buttoning the dressing gown. "God," he said, feeling as if an unseen hand had just swept his legs out from him. He opened his arms and she ran into them. He kissed her hair, her eyes, her sweet, willing mouth, clasped her tightly to his body, as if she might disappear even as he held her in his arms.
"I have so much to say to you," he whispered against her ear once he'd reluctantly broken their kiss. "So much I long to hear you say to me."
"We have time, Court," she told him, and he could hear the fear in her voice once more. "Don't we? All the time in the world."
Of course they did; all the time in the world. If the gods were kind, if the wind was fair…if Ainsley's plan was as brilliant in practice as it was in its conception…if they all survived these next days.
* * *
CASSANDRA ENTERED Becket Hall and went directly into the drawing room, to stand beneath the portrait of her mother. Her smiling mother. A woman wrapped in beauty— because she was loved, because she loved.
"Oh, Mama, how I miss you right now," she said, wiping away fresh tears. "But don't you worry, Mama. We'll keep him safe, I promise."
Then she sighed, untying the strings of her cloak as she realized that it was terribly quiet in this usually noisy, bustling household.
Courtland entered the drawing room, his expression closed, and held out a hand to her. "Upstairs, Callie. It's Eleanor."
"Elly?" She put her hand in his and began to run toward the staircase. "What? Is it the baby? Oh, God, Court. Is it the baby?"
They stopped outside the closed doors to Eleanor and Jack's bedchamber, exchanging looks, and then Courtland pushed open the door and they stepped inside. All the quiet that had been downstairs was even more quiet here, even though the room was fairly full of people.
Mariah saw them and, a finger to her mouth, motioned for them to step back out into the hallway as she followed. "She's all right," she said hastily, as Cassandra squeezed Courtland's hand. "Odette gave her something, some foul drink, and she's sleeping now, the pains lessening."
"She's laboring?" Cassandra asked quietly. She'd helped Odette in small ways when Mariah's daughter was born. Holding Mariah's hand, putting cool cloths on her head. But she really knew little about childbirth, other than the fact that Eleanor had already miscarried twice, and that this baby wasn't supposed to be born until Christmas. "That isn't good, is it?"
"No, it's not," Mariah said, sighing. "Court, could you please get Jack out of there for a while? He's been at her side all night and all of this morning. He needs to eat something, get some sleep."
"In a moment, Mariah. What happened?"
Mariah rolled her eyes. "Eleanor is a stubborn woman, that's what happened. She waited until everyone was at dinner last night, and then got up out of bed, tried to dress herself so that she could go to Dymchurch, prove that she's alive, and tell whoever would listen the truth about the day Ainsley sank that ship. She got as far as the head of the stairs before Jack saw her, catching her as she fainted. My God, she's been off her feet for months now. How did she expect to just get up, dress and be driven all the way to Dymchurch?"
"She loves Ainsley very much," Courtland said, absently rubbing Cassandra's back.
"We all love Ainsley, Court," Mariah said, sounding as if she, too, had not eaten or slept in some time. "That doesn't mean we go running off to slay dragons, not in Elly's condition."
"You ran off to France when little William was only six weeks old," Cassandra pointed out, feeling protective of Eleanor. "And then, if I'm not mistaken, to London only a few days after that."
Mariah smiled, her shoulders losing some of their stiffness. "Yes, I did, didn't I? I was so sure Spence couldn't manage without me. I'm sorry. Everything is at sixes and sevens here, and has been since Ainsley was taken. What news have you?"
"I saw Papa yesterday, in the gaol," Cassandra told her as Sheila Whiting approached from the servant staircase, carrying an armful of towels, and entered the bedchamber. "They've hurt him, but he's all right."
Mariah looked to Courtland.
"We'll discuss it later. Where's Spence? Chance is downstairs, in Ainsley's study. We need to put our heads together, Mariah, we're rapidly running out of time and there's a lot to do. Are you sure Elly's going to be all right?"
"Are we safe here?" Mariah asked, without answering Courtland's question. "Spence assures me we could hold off Bonaparte and his entire Grande Armeè, but Beales won't bother with us now, will he, now that he has Ainsley?"
"Divide and conquer, Mariah," Courtland said, and Cassandra inhaled sharply at the seriousness of his tone. "Beales has made sure that our strength is divided between protecting Becket Hall and protecting Ainsley. No, we're not out of danger here, not when we're dealing with a man as vindictive as Edmund Beales. I don't think so, and neither does Chance. Now, where's Spence?"
Mariah waved a hand in the general direction of the village. "Jacko's taken himself off to The Last Voyage, after drinking here all night. You know how he is about Elly, as if she's his daughter, I suppose. Spence went to bring him back here. Nobody's supposed to be in the village anymore."
Courtland swore under his breath and went off to the village, and Cassandra followed Mariah back into Eleanor's bedchamber, to see Lisette sitting at the head of one side of the bed, running rosary beads through her fingers, as Jack sat on the other side, holding one of Eleanor's hands in both of his.
"Odette?" Cassandra asked, approaching the woman who was rocking in the chair that had once been in Fanny's bedchamber. She bent to kiss the old woman's cheek. "How are you?"
"She's close," Odette said quietly.
"Eleanor's close? Close to having the baby?"
"No, child. Loringa. My twin. She's close, and getting closer. I can't hold her away any longer." She looked at Cassandra, smiled knowingly. "Ah, you're a woman now, are you, sweet baby? You'll give him strong sons and he'll give you beautiful daughters. You tell them about Odette, and about your fine mama. Don't let us die, not in your heart."
Cassandra dropped to her knees, laid her head in Odette's lap. "You're coming to Hampton Roads with us, I promise. Now you promise me that. Please, promise me."
"Odette!"
At Jack's panicked cry, Cassandra quickly got to her feet and helped Odette out of the rocking chair, then stood back, watching the bed, for Eleanor's eyes were open now. Wild and searching.
"Odette?" Eleanor said, reaching up a hand to her. "Something's…something's happening. I feel wet…between my legs. I'm tired…so tired. Odette, what's happening?"
The old woman threw back the covers and Cassandra's hands flew to her mouth. The sheets were red beneath her sister.
"The afterbirth— it is coming too soon," Odette said as Sheila actually leapt onto the bed beside Eleanor, to throw up her nightgown, push Eleanor's knees into the air. Eleanor, their lady, their refined, modest lady amongst so many savages, as they all said, didn't protest, made no move toward covering herself. "Everyone— leave us!"
"The hell I will!" Jack shouted as Eleanor slowly closed her eyes. "Eleanor, hold on, darling. It's fine…everything's fine. I'm here, I'm not going anywhere. I love you, sweetheart. Eleanor?
Eleanor!
"
"Mariah!" Odette shouted, no longer an old woman, weak and maudlin. "My bag— now! Lisette, hold her other hand, hold her down. Cassandra— out! This is no place for you!"
Cassandra didn't argue, but simply stood her ground. She was a woman now, and this was the lot of women. To carry the children, to give them life, to sometimes give their own lives in the process.
But not this time. Odette had lived long enough to be with Eleanor, to be there for her when she was needed, if it took her last bit of strength.
Cassandra picked up one of the large white towels from the pile Sheila had brought into the room earlier, waiting as Odette barked orders and Jack begged Eleanor to open her eyes and Sheila Whiting advanced on Eleanor with what looked to be a huge, twisted set of spoons.
She hugged the towel to her breasts as she moved her lips in prayer. When Eleanor's baby was born, it would need to be wrapped up in something warm.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
COURTLAND STOOD IN the dimness inside the quiet bedchamber, a hand to his mouth, looking toward the bed, the figures on that bed.
Jack, his friend, lying there, fully clothed, his long body curled close against that of his wife. Eleanor, his sister, so small, so still beneath the covers, her face ghostly pale.
Courtland dropped his hand to his side and, reluctantly, approached the bed, laid a hand on Jack's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Jack. I wouldn't do this…but we have to talk. Ainsley told you things we need to know."
Jack turned his head to look at Courtland, and then nodded. "Give me a moment, and I'll join you downstairs, in Ainsley's study."
Courtland stepped away from the bed, taking one last look at Eleanor. God, he had to watch closely to see her chest rising and falling ever so slightly beneath the covers to convince himself she was still alive.
He hadn't seen the baby. No one had, except for the women. He'd been bundled up and carried into the dressing room, where a roaring fire now burned and the old Indian woman who had accompanied Mariah from Canada sat holding the child, ceaselessly chanting to him in her own language. According to Cassandra, who he'd seen earlier in the hallway, Odette had put Onatah in charge of young John James Eastwood, and it would probably behoove everyone else in Becket Hall to keep their distance.
Odette had retired once more to her bed— Jack had actually carried her there— and a tearful Cassandra had told him she doubted the woman would ever leave it again.
"How's Elly now?" Courtland asked once Jack joined him in the hallway.
"Still alive," Jack said, looking as if he'd aged ten years in the past day and night. "God, Court, there was so much blood. Odette has given all sorts of instructions, including one that will keep Eleanor in that bed for at least two weeks, no matter how she might complain. Christ, how I want her to wake up, even if it's just to complain. She hasn't even seen young Jack yet."
"But Odette says she'll be all right?"
Jack nodded. "And the baby. In time. She promised, and after the miracle I saw in there a few hours ago, I have to believe her. But Ainsley will never see either of them, will he?"
"That's what he told Callie, but it's not what he wrote in his note to us— at least not the timing of each of the orders he gave her. Clearly he doesn't want Cassandra to know just what he's planned, in order to keep her from returning to the gaol," Courtland said as the two men made their way down to the study. "Chance and Spence are waiting for us. Rian's still in Dymchurch, keeping watch there, in case no one told you. You can tell us what Ainsley wants you to do, and then we'll tell you what he wants us to do. We don't have much time, you know."
They entered the study and Chance got up from behind Ainsley's desk, to clasp Jack close, the two of them heartily patting each other's back, as men are prone to do. Chance was still the golden boy, for all that he was the oldest of them all, and now a sober, law-biding citizen of the Crown. The devilish pirate was in his eyes tonight, though, beating back the fatigue of being in the saddle almost day and night to get to them, and Courtland was damn glad that when he fought, Chance would be fighting with him, not against him.
