A Shadow's Bliss (20 page)

Jennifer stood, frowning down at him. She looked stern, which was to be expected. He started up, but drew back instinctively when she suddenly sprang at him.

“What's this?” she demanded, grasping his rumpled hair and spreading it apart. “My heaven! What a frightful scar! When did this happen?”

“I'm not … sure.”

“Was it when your ship sank? Was your head bandaged when the priest was caring for you?”

“No.”

“Did it happen during the voyage?”

“I would have … known, I think, if—”

“You said you remember very little. Can you remember when your headaches began? I wonder they would have given you command of a great ship if you had suffered such an injury.”

He said wryly, “Are you trying to find an excuse for my conduct? There is none.”

“There is none, indeed!”

He winced and lowered his eyes, but he saw her hands clench into small fists and nerved himself to receive her scorn and contempt.

“If ever,” she said fiercely, “if
ever
I heard such a farrago of fustian!”

His head jerked up. “But—”

“Do not ‘but' me, sirrah! Small wonder they call you Crazy Jack! You
must
be crazy to have believed all that—stuff!”

He started to his feet, but she thrust him down again, bending her flushed face over him and saying through her small white teeth, “Oh, had you been my gracious lord Hibbard Green, I'd believe it! Or one or two others I could name! But—
you?
Never! I believe not—one—word! Not
one!
”

“But you cannot think I would have invented—”

“Silence!” She raised one hand, and looked down at him, her eyes flashing with anger. “Only answer me this riddle, Jonathan. If the captain of one of their great ships had done—what you think you did, would not so mighty a power as the East India Company send investigators? Would they not have sought out and punished such a villain?”

“Not if they believed me drowned. And the sea does not always give up her victims.”

“But you were not drowned. Any investigating officer worth his salt would have questioned the local people, and they'd have found the men who went after the priest to help you.”

He said with a mirthless smile, “Cornish folk are notoriously averse to answering the questions of those they view as ‘foreigners.' You know that. Besides, the fellows who found me were seafaring men; they might very well have sailed again by the time any investigators arrived.”

“Hum.” She tightened her lips, but refusing to be beaten, said, “You once told me you recollected a lady from your past life. Oh—and a gentleman, you said. What more?”

“There were—children, I think.” He frowned and said slowly, “Two small boys. And … I remember a deep sorrow, and … a grave. But whether it held the older gentleman … I cannot say.”

She nerved herself, and suggested, “Is it possible that the—the children were your own, Johnny? You said you recalled a lady—might she have been your wife?”

His brow wrinkled painfully. “I—I don't think so. But I feel that the children were—were related to me.”

“Then these people were likely all part of your family. You cared for them.”

“I know it was a happy part of my life.”

“They must have been very proud of you.” He flinched at that, but she went on ruthlessly, “Is it likely then, that you would so carelessly have brought disgrace down upon them?”

Looking up into her earnest face, his eyes misted. He said huskily, “How very kind in you, to try to defend me. But—oh, my dear, 'tis a doomed effort. I've gone over and over it all till I wonder I did not run mad. Do you fancy I've not prayed 'twas all a plot? That Miss Phillips was some evil adventuress, luring me to my doom?” Jennifer looked startled, but he stood, put a hand over her lips, and said sadly, “It makes no sense. 'Twould have taken a full-scale mutiny to keep me locked up and in a drunken stupor for such a length of time.”

She pulled his hand away. “You might not have been drunk at all! You could have been drugged, or brandy poured down your throat to make it appear that you were intoxicated. Or that dreadful scar on your head might have been—”

“Inflicted by the lady? Why? To what purpose? My chief mate was a good man, but he was new to the Company and had not my training. Their
lives
depended on my abilities!”

Desperate, she argued, “You said you carried a rich cargo. They might have been after that!”

“In which case, dear defender, they'd have waited till we were close to wherever they hoped to off-load, rather than putting me out of commission when we had not yet crossed the Equator. As it is, the cargo was lost—with the ship. And—the most damning strike against me—the survivors testified that I was—was drunk in my cabin when my ship foundered!”

Jennifer's eyes filled with tears, and her lips trembled. Suddenly, she flung herself into his arms and, clinging to him, sobbed, “I d-don't care! You are
not
a weakling, else you'd n-never have held to your vow and—and endured all the misery you've suffered these past two years! It takes great courage and str-strength of will for that, Johnny!”

“Or guilt.” He stroked her hair lovingly. “Conscience and remorse are terrible forces, my dear.”

“Was it conscience that made you risk your life to help that—that horrid baron? Was it remorse that drove you to defend poor Mrs. Blary when her brutish husband was abusing her so? Or when you saved Isaac from that—that rampaging stallion?” She sniffed, and sat down again, taking out her handkerchief to dry her eyes. “Rubbish!” she declared scratchily. “You acted instinctively because you are a brave gentleman.”

Jonathan knelt before her, and taking her hands, kissed each. “Can you even begin to imagine what it means to me that you have such faith? 'Tis far more than ever I hoped for, and I shall cherish the memory of it for as long as I live. But I must leave you. And you must not waste your dear life in worrying for my sake.”

“Don't say such things,” she begged, caressing his cheek even as she blinked away fresh tears. “Do not leave me, Johnny, I cannot bear the thought. I have never given my heart till now. Hold me—please.”

“I—I dare not.”

She pressed his hand to her cheek. “Why will you not have the faith in yourself that I have in you? Beyond doubting, you were bred up to the Code of Honour. Can you really convince yourself that a—a sudden passion for this Miss Phillips—”

“Good heavens! How did you know her name?”

“You remembered it just now when you were assuring me how evil you are. I didn't interrupt to tell you so, because I hoped you might recall more of the wicked jade. And I know she
was
a wicked jade, Johnny. Though I must confess ‘Miss Phillips' doesn't sound very—alluring,” she added thoughtfully. “And certainly not worth destroying your whole life for!”

He moved to sit beside her again, and said tenderly, “Tell me what you think happened. Was I to be put out of the way so that we could be boarded and claimed by some enterprising privateer?”

“I don't know. 'Tis not beyond the realm of possibility. You said she was a great ship.”

“Six hundred and fifty tons.”

Her eyes opened wide. “Good gracious! And you so very young! Why ever—” She paused. “Johnny, is it truth that a captain has to buy his command?”

“Yes. It cost me in excess of five thousand pounds. But a commander must have experience also. I was second mate on a smaller ship, and chief mate on my first voyage to India.”

“But surely you had to be sponsored by someone? Might your family have had influence with the company?”

He smiled. “Even if they had, the owners have final approval of a commander. Now what is that pretty head conjuring up?”

“So many possibilities. And, alas, none we can really prove.”

“Or ever will, I doubt. Because, after all the hopes and dreams, there comes again reality, my dearest girl. No—please don't touch me, or I'll never have the courage to go. And I must go. I only wish that—that I could leave you something you might … remember me by. Just—now and then, you know. But—” He paused, then groped in his pocket and took out a small and clumsily wrapped bundle. “It is such a—a pitiable gift, Jennifer. I am ashamed to offer it. But—it was shaped by the hands of the greatest of Artisans, and when I found it I hoped someday to dare give it to you.” He held out the little bundle, and as she took it, he added shyly, “It reminded me of—you.”

She unwound the wrappings with care, and at length held a small and unusually beautifully hued shell in the palm of her hand. Looking down at it through a blur of tears, she murmured, “It—reminded you … of me?”

“'Tis so dainty. And—so perfect.”

“I shall … cherish it for—for so long as—” She raised a tear-stained face and flung herself into his arms, sobbing, “Oh, Johnny! Don't go! I beg you!”

He hugged her tight just one last time, and longing to tell her how much he loved her and that he would never love anyone else, bit the words back and put her from him. “Whatever you think now, you will marry someday, and—I hope move away from here. Don't fly out at me, but the castle is too lonely, and you are denied friends of your own age. I would like to think of you going to parties often, not just once in a great while. I want to imagine you surrounded by lighthearted friends with whom to chatter and giggle and talk of fashions, and gossip as you ladies love to do. At Triad, the one lady I thought was visiting you, turned out to be your brother's light o' love.”

“Or Crane's,” she murmured with a sad smile.

“Do you mean Tilly? No, it was not she. The lady with the blue cloak was almost regally graceful and— Lord! What is it?”

She gripped his hand and gazing up at him with wide eyes, whispered, “You did not say she wore a—a blue cloak!”

“What difference does it make? My heavens!” Alarmed, he slipped his arm about her. “You're white as a sheet! What have I said?”

“This—this lady,” she said, moistening suddenly dry lips. “Was she—tall…? Taller than—than me?”

“I suppose she was, but—”

“And—did it seem to you—at the time—to be exceeding … cold?”

He frowned. “Why—yes. It did grow cold, but I was lost in thought, and— Oh, no! You're not saying—”

“Oh dear, oh dear!” She clung to his hand and said in a hushed voice, “Johnny, I am very much afraid that—that your lady in the blue cloak was … Queen Guinevere!”

It was a legend that had been handed down from antiquity, and Jennifer told him of it while they walked back to where they'd left Tilly. The beautiful queen, so the story went, had been deeply grieved by the tragedy that had resulted from her love for Sir Lancelot. In an attempt to make amends, down through the centuries she returned to Cornwall whenever danger threatened the realm.

“She walked on Lizard Point, looking eastward when William the Conqueror invaded,” said Jennifer solemnly, “and was seen again at the time of the Plague. Cornwall was ravaged by the Black Death, you know. She is said to have appeared at the start of the Wars of the Roses, and on Bodmin Moor a week before the great battle. A nun walking with a group of orphans saw her gazing across Plymouth Sound just before the Spanish Armada came. And—and now
you
have seen her! I wonder what threatens this time!”

“'Twould seem,” he said thoughtfully, “that the lady does not appear unless there is a major threat, so I doubt Crazy Jack could be judged worthy of a visit.”

“No, of course not. But—oh, I wish you'd not seen her!”

“I find it difficult to believe that I did. Most likely you'll discover your guess was the right one, and that your brother entertained some lovely inamorata.”

“But suppose you really
did
see the queen? Suppose there really
is
danger coming? What then?”

He considered for a moment. He should, of course, calm her fears and assure her that there was no danger—that the legend was no more than a fairy tale. But there could be no doubt that something decidedly havey-cavey was going on out at the Blue Rose. And he couldn't deny there
had
been a strangeness to his encounter with the lady on the moors. Whatever else,
nothing
must endanger his beloved, and she, bless her dear heart, obviously believed he had seen the legendary Lady. The voice of conscience gibbered, ‘You're grasping at straws! 'Tis but an excuse because you cannot bear to leave her! Go—fool! Go! The longer you stay, the harder will be your parting!' His jaw set. To the devil with conscience! He said firmly, “Why, then I cannot leave you. Not until I'm sure any danger is past.”

Jennifer sent up a silent but very grateful prayer.

*   *   *

“Twere such a dangerous thing to do, miss,” said Tilly, indignation written large on her countenance. She glanced out of the carriage windows and said with an all-embracing gesture, “All alone out here, miles from anyone who could help!”

Tired of this litany of reproach, Jennifer tried to be patient. “I am sure you were perfectly safe, and you needed to rest. I was glad you were able to sleep for a little while.”

“The shock of it!” exclaimed Tilly. “To wake up and find meself abandoned. Not as I were fearful for meself, miss. 'Twas
your
safety as had me in a state. Faithful I've ever been, and ever will, and to know you were off somewhere at the mercy of—”

“Good gracious, Tilly! Do use a little sense. I wanted you to rest, but I was unwilling to sit in the shade and wait for half an hour. Since Jack wished to cool the horses, I persuaded him to escort me. I am sure he would have protected me did any monster suddenly appear.”