Blackhearts (21 page)

“Your father sent me a letter, asking me to make sure Jacqueline and her daughter were looked after. He said he’d leave the money in a trust and I was to oversee it.”

Anne’s eyes widened in surprise, for this was the first she’d

heard of such arrangements.

“When Henry brought you here, I asked after Jacqueline

and her daughter. He said you’d returned to the West Indies.

Clearly that was not the case,” he said.

She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t. My mother and I were

removed from the house hours after my father passed away.”

“If only I’d known,” Master Drummond said, sitting back

in his chair, the wrinkles in his distinguished face more pro-

nounced than ever, “I would have taken you in. I would have

done everything for you that your father had asked of me. You

have to believe me when I say that.”

Anne was shocked that the repentant man before her was

the same person who hadn’t said more than ten words to her

since she’d entered his household. At the moment she wasn’t

sure what to believe.

“When Henry first brought you here, he asked if I wouldn’t

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mind giving you a job because he had enough servants. Since I hadn’t been able to fulfill your father’s request concerning

Jacqueline, it was the least I could do.”

Anger curled through Anne’s chest like a snake. Henry had

lied to both parties, never suspecting that the truth would come out. “Henry told me you were a friend of his, and threatened to

send me away if I caused any problems for you. I didn’t know if

you knew my real identity, but I decided it didn’t matter.”

Master Drummond’s mouth turned down at the corners.

“Your father must have suspected that something like this would

happen. I have reason to believe that part of Henry’s inheritance required you to be taken care of. And that is why he came to

find you at the workhouse. I’ve sent a note to his solicitor.”

“Taken care of how?” Anne asked.

“Knowing your father as I did, I imagine he applied a stip-

ulation that Henry would receive his portion of your father’s

estate only if you lived under my roof. It didn’t matter to Henry how you lived here, so long as he could prove that you were

indeed living in this household. I’m afraid we’ve both been ill

used by the boy.” Master Drummond steepled his fingers, his

mouth set in a flat line. “But you are not to blame yourself. Once we hear from the solicitor, we will get to the bottom of this.”

Once again Anne was stunned. Teach had clearly done

as he’d said and gone to his father upon reaching the Hervey

estate. She was grateful that Master Drummond would take the

time to set things right.

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“I would like to make amends. You will no longer work in my household. Instead you will take up residence in one of the

guest rooms.”

Anne started to protest. “Sir, that won’t be necessary—”

Master Drummond cut her off with a wave of his hand.

“I insist. You will be taken to one of the finest dressmakers in Bristol this week. Your father would want it this way.”

Anne felt a warmth in her chest, knowing that her father

had cared enough for her and her mother to see to it that they

would be looked after.

“What about Henry Barrett? Will you tell him what you’ve

discovered?”

Master Drummond’s mouth grew ugly and flat at the men-

tion of Henry’s name. “I will take care of Barrett,” he said. “He will not bother you again.”

Anne wished she could be as sure as Master Drummond,

but she knew her half brother better than he did. Nevertheless,

it was useless worrying about it now. She was still trying to

come to terms with everything that had been said in the past

half hour.

“We will move your things to another room once one can

be readied.”

There weren’t many things to move. Aside from the pocket

watch, Anne had only the few maid’s dresses she’d obtained

when coming to work here. She couldn’t wait to see the looks

on Margery’s and Mary’s faces when they discovered she was

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no longer subject to their every whim. Quite the contrary, they would now take their orders from her.

“I suppose I should start to look for another cook,” Master

Drummond muttered, ever practical.

A sudden thought occurred to Anne. “I beg your pardon,

sir, but the day your son returned, Margery brought in Ruth to

help with all of the cooking. Ruth mentioned she had an older

sister, Elizabeth. If she’s anywhere near as capable as Ruth, you’ll be in fine hands.”

Master Drummond studied her. “Hmm . . . I shall have

to give your suggestion some consideration. In the meantime,

I would like you to go and gather your belongings. Wait, no,

better yet, I will have Margery bring your belongings. I intend

to have a word with her. It appears some things have been hap-

pening in this house of which I was unaware, and for that I

apologize. I would dismiss her, except she has been quite loyal.

If I threw her out, I’m not sure she would find employment

elsewhere. I hope you understand.”

Anne stood, sliding her watch into her pocket beneath the

apron. A part of her wished he would sack Margery, but clearly

Master Drummond had undergone some kind of change. And

Anne knew only too well how hard it was to find employment.

Where could the housekeeper go at her age? “Yes, of course, and

thank you, sir. I don’t quite know what to say. This is all so . . .

unexpected. And very generous of you.”

Master Drummond shook his head as he too came to his

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feet. “I have been far too remiss in my duties as master of this house. My wife would be appalled to see how things have

changed since her death.” With a bow, he turned and walked

away, leaving Anne to stare after him, amazed at the turn of

events.

Master Drummond made good on his word and moved Anne

into one of the spacious guest bedchambers on the second

floor. Once she was left alone, she ran her hand over the soft

comforter and sheets on the large four-poster bed, comparing

them to the scratchy wool blanket she’d left behind.

The blue curtains hanging at the windows were as beautiful

as the clear sky beyond and reminded her somewhat of her room

back home. Her father, although affluent, had never amassed as

much wealth as Master Drummond. It would be impossible not

to be impressed by the luxurious surroundings.

Clutching a pillow to her chest, Anne remembered with

glee the shocked look on Margery’s face when she’d discovered

Anne would no longer be her inferior.

And it was a good thing Anne wasn’t made of straw, because

the look Mary had given her would have torched her right there

on the spot. Every time Mary passed Anne, a wave of resent-

ment rolled off her. Anne determined to be extra diligent where

Mary was concerned. She wouldn’t be surprised if the girl ended

up stealing from
her
.

Sara had been the most pleasant, and Anne decided she

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would make Sara her lady’s maid. It had been Master Drummond’s suggestion. Anne’s status in the house was second only

to Drummond’s, or so he claimed. He recognized Anne’s need

for a female companion after they attempted to visit one of

the dressmakers in the city, for it did not go as well as he had planned. The dressmaker had insulted him by assuming that

Anne was his mistress.

Master Drummond decided then that he would bring the

dressmakers to the house.

They came with bolts and bolts of fabric, from the smooth-

est silks to the richest velvets. Yards and yards of cloth in ivory, sand, light blue, and pink. Anne was overwhelmed with the

variety and, at one point, tried to tell him that it wasn’t necessary to have a gown in every shade.

“On the contrary,” he replied. “I can’t have you wearing the

same dress every time you leave this house. What would people

think? I’m your guardian, after all. And you may call me Mr.

Drummond.”

Since her father had never openly claimed her, Anne was

reluctant to attach herself to the Barrett name. However, as an

islander, Anne’s mother had had no legal surname, and it had

been Anne’s father who had given her the Christian name of

Jacqueline.

As much as Anne enjoyed her new position and all of the

finery that came with it, she also knew that even if you washed a pigeon with soap, it remained gray. She was still the illegitimate 19 6

offspring of a merchant and a slave. And beneath Drummond’s kindness, she felt an undercurrent of disapproval. Whether it

was directed at her or himself, she was not sure.

Perhaps it was her own guilty conscience. Her thoughts

turned to her secret stash of coins and household silver, including the valuable spyglass. She resolved to go to the city and try to recover the pieces she’d already sold, and hoped they would

still be at the small shop. She had not yet returned the stolen

objects to the household, hesitant to return all of them at once, for fear of discovery.

Despite Drummond’s assurances, Anne wanted to make

sure she was never left destitute again. She could still remember the fear in her mother’s eyes when Henry had kicked them out.

In order to survive, both she and her mother had been forced to

work until their bodies hurt.

Life had been hard, but quitting had meant death.

Anne was not about to quit now. If she needed to, for what-

ever reason, she could still escape on the
Deliverance
when it set sail, and start a new life elsewhere.

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C H A P T E R 1 8

Anne

In a pale pink dress and looking as regal as a queen, Anne

walked along the busy Bristol street in the afternoon sun, Sara

at her side. Aware of many disapproving looks and whispered

comments following her progression, Anne regretted her hasty

decision to leave the confines of the Drummond household,

but she’d been driven mad by her inactivity for the past four

days and had resolved to do something about it.

“You look like a princess, Miss Anne. Visiting from a far-off

land. That’s why people are staring at you so.”

Although it was nice of Sara to say, Anne knew that was

not always the case. Before, when she’d been dressed as a simple maid, she’d glowered and scowled at anyone who had dared

stare at her. Now she was no longer a nameless girl among

many, but wore the clothes of a lady. Some people might be

less inclined to be discourteous to her face, but that did not

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mean they accepted her. She doubted they ever would.

As long as she remained in England, she would always

stand out.

Due to the number of pedestrians crowding the streets,

Anne and Sara had left the confines of their carriage to walk

up Broad Street. Their destination was a shop located near the

parish of Saint John, a place for travelers to offer prayers before a journey.

She’d had no idea how tedious her life would become when

she’d accepted Drummond’s generosity. While she didn’t miss

Margery ordering her around, Anne realized that being indus-

trious had helped to pass the time more quickly, and now she

found herself wandering through the large rooms of the house,

not quite knowing what to do.

Drummond himself had been absent the past four days.

Despite the presence of the other maids in the house, Anne

was lonely, and she’d wished more than once that she still had

Teach’s book to read. Drummond’s library was stocked, but

nothing caught her attention like the story of Dampier’s travels.

Thoughts of the book naturally brought Teach to mind, and

Anne wondered when he would once again return home. Not

that it was any of her business. He was where he belonged, since he and Miss Patience were to be married.

The thought of Teach and Miss Patience together left a bit-

ter taste in Anne’s mouth, and she did her best to redirect her

thoughts whenever they turned to him.

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“Are we almost there, Miss Anne?” Sara asked, noticeably unnerved by the number of pedestrians surrounding them.

Anne nodded. “Yes, but I’d like you to wait outside the shop

for me. It shouldn’t take long,” she said. She hoped that it wasn’t too late to retrieve the items from Drummond’s household, for

it had been a month since she’d sold them.

“I’ve never seen the streets so crowded before, miss.”

“Nor I,” Anne admitted. The atmosphere among the throng

could be described as festive, with an undercurrent of expec-

tancy, as if the crowd were waiting for something to happen.

Anne didn’t understand it and was therefore caught off guard.

As far as she knew, it wasn’t a holiday.

“How’s your mother?” Anne asked in an attempt to distract

the girl.

Sara frowned. “As well as can be expected. She’s able to get

up a bit, but she still has an awful lot of pain.”

“Perhaps you should take some time off to tend to her,”

Anne suggested.

Sara’s eyes widened. “Oh no. I can’t afford to do that, miss.

All my money goes to help her, to pay for the doctor. If I don’t work, who will?”

Sympathy tugged at Anne’s heart. “I don’t mean for you

to quit. I’m simply suggesting you take a few days to be by her