Promise of a Family

“We could go to Padstow or around Land’s End to Penzance and Truro. We would find cargo there.”

“As well as the men whose cargo was ruined by the attack. I would like to have enough money to pay them for the lost goods before I encounter them.”

Benton chewed on that, then nodded. “I understand, Captain. Our reputation and The Kestrel’s are at stake.”

Drake was pleased. Even a year ago, Benton would not have comprehended the tough decisions a captain had to make. The young first mate would soon be ready to take over his own ship. Drake would miss Benton’s willingness to tackle any job and his good rapport with the men.

Clapping his mate on the back, he said, “Let’s get to work.”

“Aye, Captain.” He hurried to the hatch and down to the lower decks.

Drake started to follow, but again his gaze focused on the grand house beyond the village. He looked away. There was nothing there for him, but he could not keep from wondering how Lady Susanna and the children fared now that a few days had passed.

Less than two hours later, his curiosity overmastered his good judgment. He was admitted to the great house as soon as he reached its door, and a footman offered to take him to where he could speak with Lady Susanna. The footman led the way up one grand staircase and then along a long hallway decorated with paintings of people who must be Lady Susanna’s ancestors. He could not imagine being surrounded by so much history of generations past. After all, he had known neither his father nor his mother, for they had abandoned him in a neighbor’s care soon after his birth. He had found his first true family when he signed on a trading ship as cabin boy.

“This way, Captain Nesbitt,” said the footman in his light gray livery that did not have a single piece of lint on it. He began up a narrow stairwell.

Drake followed, uncertain where they were bound. He had been in great houses once or twice, but never beyond the public rooms, so he had no idea what to expect when they reached the top of the steps.

It was as if they had entered a different house. An odor of dampness and neglect filled each breath he took. No thick carpets covered the wide floorboards that needed to be restained. The walls were bare, though he could see the shadowed outlines where pictures had hung between doors. They were closely spaced, so the rooms beyond them must be not much bigger than his quarters on The Kestrel. A few tables were pushed against the walls. All were either scratched or chipped.

As they left the double row of doors behind and walked along a blank wall where paint peeled off in long strips, voices emerged from a doorway at the far end of the hallway.

A man said, “The first thing we need is a good nursery staff.”

“No,” replied a female voice. “I believe you are mistaken on this.”

Even if Drake had not recognized the melodious tone, he could identify Lady Susanna by her poised, self-assured words.

“The first things we need,” she went on, “are uncracked windows and fresh paint on the walls. I doubt if anyone has been up here since the nursery was closed.”

“Making all those repairs will take time and money. I doubt we can get the windows replaced in less than a month or more. By that time, the children will be back with their families.”

“I hope you are right.” A hint of humor warmed her voice. “In that case, you can see it as early preparations for your heir, Arthur.”

The footman stepped into the doorway and announced, “My lord, my lady, excuse my intrusion. Captain Nesbitt is here and wishes to speak with you, my lady.”

“Tell him,” Lady Susanna said, “that I will be with him shortly. Thank you, Venton. Arthur, I am sure we can complete the nursery quickly if we put our minds to it.”

“My lady, Captain Nesbitt—”

“I heard you, Venton. That will be all.”

The footman cleared his throat and said, “My lady, Captain Nesbitt is here.”

Drake stepped forward. He scanned the room. It was in as bad repair as the corridor, but shelves still contained carefully packed boxes that might contain toys or clothing or even books. He struggled to imagine how anyone could leave books in a damp room. He owned one book, a well-read copy of Robinson Crusoe, and he kept it carefully wrapped in oilcloth in his quarters.

“So I see,” said the man who had been conversing with Lady Susanna. He had her ebony hair and high cheekbones. He affixed Drake with an icy stare.

Drake met it steadily. He might not be the heir to an earldom, but he had information of import for Lady Susanna.

His supposition was confirmed when she said, “Arthur, allow me to introduce you to Captain Nesbitt. Captain, this is my older brother, Lord Trelawney.”

Even though he hated to be the first one to look away, Drake could not halt his gaze from shifting to Lady Susanna. He realized he had been avoiding looking in her direction. Rightly so, because a single glance at her stole his breath away.

She was dressed in a simple pale blue gown that was covered by a gray apron. Her hair was piled up carelessly on her head. A few strands had escaped to curve along her left cheek, and he had to clench his hands at his sides to keep from reaching out to brush those tresses back along her face. A streak of dust shadowed her right eye.

“My lord,” he said, offering his hand.

Lord Trelawney seemed astonished, but shook Drake’s hand. “I will leave you to make plans for the children.”

“Arthur, we need to discuss further repairs to the nursery.” Lady Susanna frowned.

“I will study the list in the morning. As for now, if you need anything, Venton will be here to assist you.”

Drake understood Lord Trelawney’s true message to his servant. The footman would make sure that nothing untoward happened. The urge to laugh tickled the back of Drake’s throat. Lady Susanna hardly needed a chaperone. She could freeze a man in place with a single look.

As soon as Lord Trelawney took his leave, Venton moved to stand just inside the doorway. The spot gave him a clear view of the main room and a smaller one beyond it.

“I thought you had taken your leave of Porthlowen,” Lady Susanna said.

“When I did not return?”

“Yes.”

He shook his head. “Unfortunately, there is still more work to be done on The Kestrel. And, if you remember, I told you that as long as I am in Porthlowen, I would do what I could to help the children. How are they?”

Her shoulders eased from their rigid stance, and an honest smile brightened her face. “Better than I dared to hope. The twins and Bertie have become inseparable. They are fun and funny. My sister is caring for Gil and the baby she’s named Joy, because she is such a happy child.”

“And Toby? Are he and Bertie still quarreling with each other?”

“Toby lives with my brother at the parsonage. We thought giving the boys some time apart would be wise. From what Raymond tells us, Toby has charmed most of the older ladies in the parish, especially Hyacinth and Ivy Winwood, who have made plenty of excuses to call at the parsonage.” She hesitated, kneading her fingers together, then asked, “Have you come because you have news about the search for the children’s families?”

He nodded, and color washed from her face. Was she fearing that he had found the children’s parents or that he had not? True affection had been laced through her words as she spoke of them.

The spot beneath her eye looked even darker, and he frowned as he caught her chin gently and tilted her face toward the light streaming in through the cracked window. He ignored the growled warning from Venton. He drew in a sharp breath of his own when he saw the puffiness beneath the darkness near her eye. It was not dirt. It was a bruise. She had been struck.

“Who darkened your daylight, my lady? Tell me the cur’s name, and I will make him regret being so discourteous to you.”

She drew away and laughed, wincing when her eyes crinkled in amusement. “I appreciate your chivalry, but Miss Mollie gave me this black eye.”

“One of the twins? But how...?”

“We were playing, and she flung her head back. I did not move swiftly enough. You see the result.”

“Maybe I should invite her to join my crew. She could come in handy if French privateers try to board us again.” He glanced over his shoulder at Venton, who was listening with sudden interest. Hadn’t the tale of The Kestrel’s battle been told and retold throughout Porthlowen? Apparently the footman had not heard of it before or wanted more details.

“What have you discovered about the children, Captain?” Lady Susanna asked.

“I sent men along the shore as far north as Trevana and as far south as Land’s End. No one they spoke to had heard that six children were missing. Or at least nobody would admit they had.”

She gave a terse laugh. “Captain, even if the children’s parents refused to step forward and own up to what they have done, others would notice children had gone missing. A single child might be hidden from neighbors until it was placed in the boat, but not six.”

“Then we will continue looking. I can send men across the moors to Penzance and Truro. Even as far as Looe, if necessary.”

She walked toward the shelves, her skirts whirling dust behind her. Running her fingers along the shelves, she wrinkled her nose when she looked at the dust on them. She slapped her hands together to clean them. The sound echoed in the empty room as she faced him.

“Maybe we are looking in the wrong place,” she said.

“It is unlikely they came from beyond Cornwall. Devon or Wales is a great distance for a jolly boat to travel.”

“But not a ship.”

He was puzzled. Usually his mind could keep up with any conversation. It might be that he was paying too much attention to the sway of her skirts as she walked toward him.

“A ship, Captain Nesbitt,” she said. “A ship can easily sail from Devon or Wales or even much farther away, as you know.”

“You need not instruct me about sailing, my lady, but I would appreciate if you could enlighten me about what exactly you are talking about.”

Her cheeks went from pale to flushed in a heartbeat. Her voice became as glacial as her brother’s. “Let me put it simply. French privateers attacked The Kestrel. You halted them, Captain, but maybe another ship was not so fortunate.”

What she was trying to tell him shot like a ball through his brain. Why had he failed to see that possibility himself? He had told her, after all, that they could not discount any theory until they were certain it would not lead to the children’s families.

“I will have my men make inquiries about missing ships as well as missing children,” he said.

“Good.” She started to walk away again, and he knew he had been dismissed.

He did not move. “My lady?”

“Yes?” She kept walking.

“I hope your idea is wrong.”

She stopped but did not turn. “Why?”

“Because if it is correct...”

She spun to look at him with horrified eyes. “Please tell me that you are not about to suggest that their own parents put them in the boat.”

“No, because that is not how privateers work. They want the cargo and the ship. Once they board, the ship’s crew and passengers are doomed.” He closed the distance between them until she had to tilt her head back to look up at him. Raising his hand, he slipped the loose hair back behind her ear. He heard her breath catch, and his heart quickened like a ship driven by a gale.

It took all his willpower to ignore both her reaction and his own. His life was already too enmeshed with the events and people of Porthlowen, and he would be gone soon. But he could not leave without warning her of a truth he doubted she could imagine.

Wiping a bit of fluffy dust from her cheek, he held her gaze as he whispered, “If you are right, no ship and no port, including Porthlowen, may be safe.”

He was shocked when she pulled back with the calm smile that was beginning to annoy him. He knew that expression was aimed at covering up her true emotions because her fingers trembled. Because he had touched her or because of what he had told her?

As if she spoke of nothing more important than the color of the water in the cove, she said, “We have never been assured of safety in Porthlowen. Before the French, there were other pirates and raiders, as well as storms and droughts and sickness.”

“Very well. It seems you understand. Therefore, I will bid you a good evening, Lady Susanna.”

“Good evening, Captain.” She relented from her icy pose as she added, “I truly appreciate you bringing me the information your men have gathered. We are grateful for your continuing efforts.”

“I helped rescue those children. I would be coldhearted not to be concerned about their well-being.”

She nodded, and he wondered if she ever lost control of her tight hold on herself. Even when she had gasped at his touch on her cheek, she’d quickly reverted to her cool exterior.

Drake got his answer when her name was shouted from the hallway, and a maid burst into the nursery. The young woman’s eyes were wide with dismay as she cried, “My lady! It is Miss Lucy! She tumbled down the stairs and landed on her head. We cannot wake her.”

Alarm wiped all other emotion from Lady Susanna’s face as she pushed past him. He caught her arm, and she whipped around, fury now mixed with fear.

“Let me go!” she ordered.

“I will, but I am going with you so you don’t fall down the steps in your haste to get to her.”

She nodded. “Hurry! I need to be there when she regains her senses.”

He steered her out of the room past the maid and the footman, who exchanged worried glances. He knew their thoughts as surely as if they were his own.

What if the tiny girl never woke?

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