"Ian might have to make that trip without me this year," he said. Mary-Michael could see the happy mood he was in just moments earlier starting to change again.
"Lucky... I... Can you imagine what my neighbors, my community, my employees would say if I married my lover before I was out of mourning? Please do not ask this of me. I must live here. I must work here. This is where I—"
"No. You don't have to stay here, Mary. These are the same people who just a few days ago told the judge you deserve to die for an affair.
An affair!
One in which your husband approved. Do you really believe if you waited those three months, that they would think you respected Spenser any more than you do? I don't!"
"Not all of them, Lucky. Those men on that jury were influenced by someone. I just don't know who it was." She glanced back at Lia who still paced the floor with Lucy. "Lucky, please I do not want to argue with you. Not now that I know you've forgiven me." She pressed her forehead against the cool, steel bars separating them. "I love you."
"And I love you, Mary. But, if you tell me no, I will steal you away and lock you in my cabin for the rest of our lives."
The loud screech of a bird in the night brought Lucky's head up. The noise repeated itself, and Lucky glanced toward the back of the children's play yard. "I must go, Mary, but not until you say yes."
She worried that he stood there so confidently as she heard the call a third time. "Go," she whispered. He was unmoving, stubbornly waiting for her reply. But she couldn't let him get caught! "I'm not saying no, Lucky." She smiled at him. Her heart was bursting with love for this man, but she was still in mourning for Mr. Watkins. "I promise I will think on it," she said. "It is the best I can give you right now."
"Then I shall take that as a yes," he said, his wide grin infecting even her dour spirits. "Now close this window quietly."
She did as he asked and turned back to Lia who gave her a soft, almost regal, smile. "Welcome to the family, Mary."
O
ver the next few days, their plan to keep the villagers talking about the injustice to Mary seemed to be working. The tide was turning as more and more residents decided they were sympathetic to the awkward, highly intelligent and loyal young woman.
But the judge who presided over the case wasn't hearing any of it. The man was angry that Lucky and his family had come to their village with the intention of freeing Mrs. Watkins, and said as much to Ren and Michael in a private meeting on the Wednesday morning after their arrival. Michael knew Lucky would never be able to hold his temper and he was ordered to remain behind. So while Lucky paid a visit to the Children's Home to see Mary and Lucy, the judge reminded the two noblemen that an American jury of Mrs. Watkins' peers had heard the evidence and convicted the woman. The judge then reminded both men that he had pronounced a sentence within the boundaries of, and in accordance with, the laws of the State of Maryland. A sentence which he had no intention of changing, though he did relieve their minds saying that with the woman's attorney stating the intent to appeal, scheduling the exact date for the execution would have to wait until the higher court's ruling on the appeal.
Lucky couldn't understand how the jury could—with a clear conscious—sentence a woman to die for wanting to have a child, because that was what it all came down to in his opinion. It was unfair to Mary. And, he firmly believed he would feel the same had it been a woman he didn't know in the exact same position. There were men siring by-blows with willing wenches every day of the week, in every port town on the face of the earth. Most of these men would never know their own offspring.
What made Mary's case different was her position as owner of one of the largest shipbuilders in the state. The value of that one property alone was likely far more than the greedy constable could ever hope for in his life. Which made his suit of paternity of Mary's child such a lucrative move on his part. In Lucky's estimation, the man he'd been learning about through conversations with people in the village didn't have the kind of funds necessary to hire a lawyer and bring this charge to a grand jury and on to a trial. This led Lucky to believe the person who funded his attempt at gaining access to Mary and Lucy's inheritance had to have been someone who wanted something of Mary's.
Which is why he planned to have a look around Barlowe Marine offices that evening, after the man left for home.
As he, Mary, Lia, and Lucy sat in the spartan receiving room at the children's home—Mary's guard never more than an arm's length from her—the three of them speculated on how the meeting was going between Michael, Ren, and the judge.
"What could they hope to accomplish by meeting with the judge? They have no influence here," Mary said, sounding more depressed than he'd seen her in the last four days.
"I think," said Lia, "they want to let the judge know that we are here doing everything in our power to make certain you are treated fairly."
Fairness was not taken into consideration when Mary's sentence was handed down by the jury of twelve men. "Just because you
can
punish someone in a certain manner, doesn't necessarily mean it's
just,"
Lucky said. "I believe there is someone pushing for a certain punishment so that he can profit from your death." He wished he could touch her, embrace her, give her his strength—but today's dour-faced guard looked as though he'd spend several years on the losing end of boxing matches. Lucky met the gaze of the guard before looking back at Mary. "I don't think that person is Potts. I think it's someone with a desire for... a certain property of yours."
Lucky took a chance. In allowing the guard to know he didn't think Potts himself was responsible, he was hoping that the guard would then feed this tidbit back to the former constable for the village of Indian Point. If Potts wanted to find a way out of the mess he'd started the door was open, though it was likely entirely out of his control to stop at this point.
One of the novices of the order entered the room and announced the Earl Mackeever, Marquess Glencairn, and Ambassador Fox.
Lia hurried to Marcus and hugged her son. "I'm so glad you've arrived, Ambassador," Lucky's sister said after she introduced the newcomers to Mary.
"Happy to be of help, if possible," wheezed the balding, paunch-bellied Fox. He gave Mary a sympathetic glance and turned back to Lucky. "Though you must know it is out of my realm of jurisdiction." To Mary he said, "The only way I might possibly be of help," Fox said, "is if you are willing to marry the child's father, renounce your citizenship, and become a British citizen."
"I will never renounce my citizenship, sir," Mary said.
"Then, as I have told the Earl and Marquess, I'm afraid I can be of no use right now."
"But, Mary..." He didn't know what more to say or do to save her. Why she was being so adamant about not marrying him before her mourning was over, why she wouldn't renounce her citizenship if it would save her life. Save her life! She could live a normal life with him and Lucy, free from the judgmental eyes of her neighbors who'd rather see her dead than happy with a child of her own.
Later, after seeing Fox settled into a room at the Parks' inn, Lucky, along with the men of his family, all sat in the private dining room, planning their next move. Everyone wondered where Mary's attorney had gone after leaving to file the appeal in Baltimore. According to the judge Ren and Michael spoke with earlier, Mary was safe until the higher court ruled on her appeal.
But that still did not explain where the man could have gone, having left six days earlier to file paperwork that would take minutes to do on Monday morning. Lucky knew the wait was what had Mary so fraught with worry. She'd placed all her faith in her attorney, and the man was missing for almost one week now. He'd not been seen or heard from since taking the ferry across the bay on Thursday of the week past. The man's wife was also concerned, visiting Mary early that morning at the children's home asking
her
if she knew where her husband might have gone.
"Perhaps I should go to Baltimore to see if he made it to file the appeals paperwork?" Michael said.
"What if he met with an accident after getting off that ferry?" Marcus speculated.
"Michael," Ren said, "I think you, Henry, and I should go to Baltimore in the morning. Something is afoot and I don't like waiting when there is something to be done."
Lucky had always admired Ren's decisiveness and Michael's level-headedness in the face of adversity. While he thought he had some of both qualities, he always wished he could be more like them. Because right now, he didn't know what to do to save the woman he loved. Other than...
"If I were to steal Mary away from here," he asked, "and we sail for home, what could be the worst that might happen?"
Michael exhaled a frustrated breath. "I understand your fears, Lucky, but that is not the answer. While I am not the ambassador, mind you, my best guess is that there would be some diplomatic posturing, angry letters exchanged between the governor and ambassador. Perhaps also between the American foreign minister and our own. You and Mary would likely never be able to return to the United States without being arrested. Other than that..." He shrugged. "Mary is one woman, one who has been unjustly treated. I cannot imagine anyone wants to go to war over one woman."
Lucky looked at his brothers-in-law and his nephew Marcus. "I would regret it if any retaliation or hostility fell upon any of you. Especially you, Marcus. If any of you here do not wish to help further, I will leave with Mary and go..."
"Think nothing of it," his nephew said. "She's family now, and we do whatever is necessary to protect the family." Behind the young marquess, his father's chest swelled with pride.
Michael, ever the voice of reason, suggested, "Don't plan on anything drastic just yet. Let's see what can find out in Baltimore tomorrow."
The men agreed to wait a few more days. Meanwhile, as the sun began to set, Lucky remembered his planned expedition to Barlowe's office looking for something, anything, that might help them connect the man to the crime. Being able to prove this injustice to the higher court could free Mary. After that, he'd work on getting her to agree to marry him.
"Well I'm off to do some investigating of my own," Lucky said. He rose from his chair and his nephew stood as well.
"Where are we going?" the young marquess, spitting image of his father, asked.
C
hapter
T
wenty-
O
ne
L
ucky spoke in low tones to Ian and Marcus, as their skiff neared the dock at Barlowe Marine. He and Ian knew how easily sound carried over the water. "I have no idea what I'm looking for. Barlowe usually leaves the office well before dark, where his servant and carriage are waiting for him near the front of the office building, presumably to bring him to his home. Potts leaves at dark and walks toward the village where he lives in rooms behind his mother and aunt's home. The former constable is now the security chief for the shipyard, and always last out, locking the premises for the night.
"My gut tells me I'll find something in there. I don't know what, but I hope we can use it to help Mary," Lucky said. "And it's why you two are here with me. I need you to be my lookout. Just in case there is anyone on the premises that I have never seen in my previous visits out here."
"How many times have you come?" Ian asked.
"Twice before tonight. I wanted to get the lay of the yard, and find the office building. The moon rises after eleven, and it's nice and dark around nine, leaving me two good hours to snoop around."
"Have you brought a light?" his nephew Marcus asked.
"I've a candle and match for inside the building," Lucky said. He hoped to heaven he was right about this. He needed to free his family from this nightmare. And Mary and Lucy were his family now.
They tied the skiff off on the dock, and after hearing no footsteps crunching on the fresh tabby paving, the three men silently climbed ashore. Lucky let his eyes adjust to the different, darker shadows of the shipyard. Without the water reflecting what tiny bit of light coming from stars and buildings, it really was inky black. He was barely able to differentiate the shadows of hulls and dry-docked ships from the various little sheds near the work sites. The glow of the blacksmith's fire inside one of the outbuildings near a ship cast a narrow shadow for about twenty yards. It was enough to give him confidence in going that far forward.
Much like Watkins, there were ships under various stages of construction, and equipment in lean-to buildings near those sites. Lucky led the way with Marcus between he and Ian. He'd hate to run into anyone and get his nephew or friend thrown in jail, or worse, injured.
The yard had the pungent smell of burned shells and sand, as though a section had been recently paved. And when he recognized the scent of tar, pitch and oakum used in the construction of ships, he knew he was getting closer to a hull. The true dark of night left very little natural light for the eye to use to aid in maneuvering through a construction yard. Which is why he'd come the past few nights while the moon was up. Lucky just hoped all this late-night reconnoitering would give them the evidence they needed to free Mary.
Someone pulled at his shirt from behind him and he stopped. Ian came forward, the two men shielding Marcus. "Did you hear that?" Ian said.
Lucky shook his head at first, then he heard the crunch of shells beneath boots. More than one man. Lucky pulled the pistol out of his waistband at his back. The three of them clung to the side of a hull. Depending on how close the men coming toward them were, chances were they could pass the three of them and never know they were there—it was that dark.
The three of them were about sixty yards from the bulkhead. Making a run for it in the pitch blackness was out of the question because of the noise they'd make crunching the fresh tabby. He made the motion with his finger over his lips for Marcus and Ian to say nothing and not move. They crouched low, closer to the keel, as the crunch of shells grew closer.