Beloved Enemy (63 page)

But
the information he received at the ale bench of the Stag and Hounds rendered
him dumbfounded for a full five minutes. Esquire Courtney and his lady wife had
taken ship for the Colonies at the end of April. It was said they were bound
for Virginia, a good destination for Mistress Courtney, the goodwife chuckled,
setting a foaming tankard at his hand, being as how she was so named herself.
Of course, the fines for Malignancy had been monstrous heavy on the Courtneys
and it was said that only by planting in the Colonies could they hope to
maintain the estate by sending monies home to Lady Courtney, who had a good
head on her shoulders, better than her son's, the goodwife added with a lowered
voice. The young mistress, also, kept a clear head for management and was much
missed in and around the village, such skill she had with the simples. But such
a sad lady, as she was, hardly ever smiled since she had come back after the
war. Quite dreadful it was to see such unhappiness on such a pretty young face.
Not long for this world, they had all been feeling, and there were some that
said she spent an unnatural long time looking at the sea. The goodwife nodded
significantly. Not that anyone was accusing the poor young thing of harboring
wickedness — but . . .

Alex
muttered something noncommittal, and the woman's chatter eventually ceased.
Tossing a coin on the bench, he remounted Bucephalus and rode out of the
village, his mind in a turmoil. Jed rode stolidly at his side. He had heard
every word of the goodwife's discourse at the inn, and one look at the
general's face made it clear that he would not welcome interruption.

The
New World! Alex shook his head in disbelief, yet wondered why he should find
the news so surprising. It was a route taken by many Royalists in the aftermath
of defeat. Having lost their lands here, for many it seemed the logical course,
to go where land aplenty lay for the taking, where fortunes could be repaired.
But had Virginia gone willingly? Or had she gone, the submissive wife at the
insistence of her lord, staring back at the island of her birth, wondering
where lay the man she had loved and left, whether he was thinking of her, whether
he needed her? She had not been happy, that much he knew. Not even resigned, if
the goodwife had been telling the truth. And
he
was wretched. Life had
no savor any more. Not even ambition could compensate for the loss of that
undisciplined rebel with the bee-sting tongue, and the glorious, passionate
nature, and the river of compassion that flowed in her veins.

The
familiar lethargy of grief slopped over him, and his shoulders sagged. Jed
glanced sideways and sighed, recognizing the signs. "Seems to me ye'd do
well to go after the mistress, sir," he said directly. "Not goin' to
get anythin' done, mopin' and moanin' all the time."

'
"She is another man's wife, Jed," Alex snapped. "Do you think I
have not thought of going after her? There is talk, these days, in Parliament
of making adultery a capital offense! I cannot risk her life as well as her
reputation. For mine own, I care not a jot."

"It
was your life and career
she
was thinkin' of when she went off,"
Jed pointed out. "Don't think she cared too much about her own either.
Besides," he added casually, "that husband of hers looked mighty
sickly to my way o' thinkin'. Should be surprised if he survived the voyage.
Short o' women they are in the New World, or so they says; a pretty young wider
woman'd be snapped up before she ever set foot on land."

"In
the name of the good God, what are you getting at, Jed?" Alex demanded,
although his companion's meaning was perfectly clear.

"Things
change, that's all," Jed replied tranquilly. "But if n ye're not
around when they do, can't do much about it . . . stands to reason."

Alex
looked around at the peaceful, tamed countryside that he loved, that he would
have given his life to preserve, had nearly done so, in fact. There was
soldier's work to be done in Ireland where Cromwell was fighting for
reconquest, and there was politician's work to be done in London now that both
the king's office and the House of Lords had been abolished by act of
Parliament. The authority of Parliament rested solely with the army now, and a
New Model general held power in the palm of his hand. But it was all empty; the
once-sweet cup of power and ambition contained only the sour dregs of
disappointment and loss. Without Virginia, he might as well as retire, a
reclusive, miserable man in his thirtieth year, to a cottage in the countryside
and breed goats.

The
soft splash as the body hit the water was become a sadly familiar sound these
days, Ginny reflected, turning away from the deck rail with those of her fellow
passengers fit enough to attend the cursory burial service for the sixth of
their number to succumb to the scurvy sickness in the last week. No one was
well, not even the seamen, and they at least had light and air for much of the
time. The passengers sweltered in the fetid atmosphere between decks, where the
stench of vomit and the groans of the sick, the pathetic wailing of the
children combined to create a little, dark, hot hell.

Ginny,
even in the fiercest storms created by the cross winds, escaped the miseries of
seasickness but was kept endlessly occupied with the sufferers. Giles was now
so debilitated, he could barely crawl forward to the pail, and if his wife was
long from his side, he heaped curses and execrations upon her head between
pulls at the brandy bottle that he guarded jealously beneath his pallet.
Ginny's one fear was that the brandy would run out before they could touch land
and replenish the supply. At least when he was drunk, he was insensible much of
the time.

The
ship rolled and pitched unmercifully, the storms sometimes so fierce and the
seas so high that they were unable to carry any sail and were forced to hull on
the wild gray ocean. At these times they made no progress except to plunge into
the deep troughs that threatened to swallow the frail vessel as it heeled over
until the masts were parallel with the ocean, and it seemed as if it would
never right itself again. Throughout, Ginny felt only a curious sense of
serenity, unaffected by the desperate cries and prayers of her companions. She
was a child of the sea, and it had always been her second home. She had never
had any illusions about its sudden treachery, but, curiously, the prospect of
drowning did not alarm her. Her life was not in her hands any longer, and fate
had dealt her enough twists and turns to resign her to destiny. And a destiny
that did not include Alexander Marshall was one she viewed with supreme
indifference. Let it bring what it would.

It was
almost four months to the day that the
Elizabeth May
and her two sister
ships sailed into the land-sheltered water of the Chesapeake Bay. They had
stopped for a week in the Indies for repairs and supplies, and the renewal of
fresh food and water had done much for the sick. Even Giles, pale and weak
though he was, was able to stand at the rail beside his wife, gazing at the
rich green shores of the New World.

Their
destination was the settlement at Jamestown established forty-two years earlier
and, as the
Elizabeth May
turned into the broad reaches of the James
River, Ginny felt for the first time since the morning she had walked away from
Alex in Preston a stirring of interest, the faintest flicker of excitement. So
different it was from her own Isle of Wight, so lush, the shoreline studded
with tall trees reaching to the water's edge. There were other craft on the
river, small sailboats for the most part, but also canoes, their sailors waving
at the convoy of tall ships, at the passengers crowding the rail now, life
returning to their eyes and voices at the prospect of the journey's end.

Here
and there along the shore, the trees had been cut back from a landing stage
jutting into the river, and a cart track ran from the shore to a house standing
in a cleared ground and facing the river. There were figures at work on the
land, seemingly industrious despite the heat of a late August sun that was more
powerful than any Ginny had ever experienced. August . . . she had not seen
Alex for a year. Was he well? Was he alive? Married to the daughter of some
staunch Paliamentarian, who would give him sons and manage his household with
Puritan competence and advance his career with a substantial jointure and
family influence . . . Dear God, when would the sense of loss finally recede?
The grief leave her with some serenity? Everytime she thought it was over, the
desolation and the wanting hit her with renewed force as if to punish her for
the moments of forgetfulness.

"There'd
best be someone to meet us." Giles, his voice its now-habitual whine,
broke into her reverie. "They should have received the letter on the
Deliverance
last month. If not, I don't know how we're to manage."

"Easily
enough," Ginny replied, thankful for the interruption that gave her
something else to think about. "If the letter did not reach your cousins,
then we send a message from Jamestown. There must be an inn in the settlement
where we may lodge, and people willing to advise us."

"Willing
to rob us, more likely," Giles muttered petulantly. "And how are we
to manage to keep close the silks, the china, and the furniture if we're not to
be met? Where are they to be stowed once the vessel lands and we stand around
like ninnyhammers waiting for deliverance?"

"Maybe,
if we do not stand around like ninnyhammers waiting for deliverance, husband,
we shall be able to have a care for those things " Ginny retorted,
exasperation sharpening the tongue that she usually kept blunted in her
husband's presence. "I for one am quite capable of having a care for
myself."

"When
there are men around, ready and willing to lie with a traitor's whore, you may
be," he hissed viciously, and Ginny blanched. She was by now accustomed to
the accusation, but during the voyage and Gile's sickness he had been more
circumspect in its utterance, presumably because he needed her attention and
could not enforce it in the conditions prevailing on board. Turning away, she
went down to their quarters to see to the final stowing of their possessions in
preparation for landing.

A
great cheer brought her back above deck, and she stood with the others as the
Elizabeth
May,
sails lowered, dropped anchor in the deep waters off the peninsula
where stood the fort and township of Jamestown. Small craft and canoes bobbed
around them, sent out from the landing stage to transport the passengers and
their goods to shore. The arrival of ships from England was obviously a great
event, judging by the numbers of people on the shore. Of course, the vessels
carried goods eagerly awaited by the colonists, luxuries that they could not
manufacture for themselves but that they could buy with the profits from their
now well-established tobacco plantations. They also carried letters from home,
and there must be few of these transplanted .folks who would not be glad of
news, Ginny reflected. Then there was no time for reflection in the urgent
bustle of landing. Giles seemed incapable of doing anything except giving
orders to people who ignored them and bellowing ineffectually whenever he saw
some article that belonged to the Courtneys being tossed into one of the
waiting craft.

"Giles,
they are not going anywhere but to shore," Ginny said as he lamented the
disappearance of a pair of decorated andirons from Courtney Manor. "We
shall follow them ourselves, if you will but climb into that canoe. I will
remain on board and ensure that everything else follows safely, and you may
receive the goods on shore. Is that not a good plan?"

Much
as he would have liked to have found fault with the plan, Giles could not, and
he scrambled down into the bobbing canoe, manned by a grinning lad of about
eleven, to be paddled ashore where he made a great nuisance of himself,
insisting on examining every chest and bundle as it landed on the dock to see
if it contained Courtney belongings.

Ginny
was one of the last to leave the
Elizabeth May,
helping her fellow
passengers into the small boats that seemed suddenly insubstantial to bodies
that had become accustomed to the heaving decks of a one-hundred-ton vessel. At
last, however, she also stepped onto the soil of the New World and felt
instantly giddy as her feet found solid ground after four months of movement.

"Virginia!"
Giles called imperatively from the far end of the landing stage.
"Everything is here, but I can find no one who is expecting us."