Chance the Winds of Fortune (33 page)

“No.” The timid denial crushed Rhea's hopes. “My name is Alys. Alys Meredith,” the disembodied voice confided. “I was hopin' ye'd be wakin' up real soon. I was afeared ye was dead,” the young girl's voice informed her rather matter-of-factly.

Suddenly Rhea laughed, but the sound jarred strangely against her ears, as if she were listening to a person who was losing her mind. “No!” Rhea cried out as she heard a shuffling on the floor beside her. “Please, don't leave me. I'm not crazed, truly I'm not.”

“I'm not leavin',” said the voice that had identified itself as Alys Meredith. “I was just movin' closer. 'Tis so dark and cold down here. 'Tis like bein' in a grave, I s'pose, but not near so comfortable,” she said, and Rhea could plainly hear the fear in the girl's voice.

Rhea reached out a hesitant hand, unsure of what she would encounter. She struck a bony shoulder shaking with cold; the thin cloth of the cape the girl was wearing offered little comfort against the biting chill of the ship's hold. “Would you like to share my cape with me? 'Tis lined in fur and very full. There is plenty of room for us both,” Rhea invited, feeling genuinely sorry for the young girl, but also anxious not to lose contact with that human voice. The moans of the suffering passengers, combined with the eerie whistling of the wind through the sails, created an inhuman wailing that assaulted the senses relentlessly.

“I never could stand bein' in the dark. I've always been afeared of it,” Alys Meredith said suddenly. “Me father, he was a fine man, he was. He always let me have a candle burning until I'd fallen asleep. Sometimes there was hardly enough money to keep food on the table, but still he'd let me have me candle. He was like that, always doin' a kindness fer someone and deprivin' himself of things he should've had. The only things he ever bought fer himself was books. Loved books, he did. Should've bought himself a greatcoat, I told him that. But he never listened to sensible advice. He caught a chill, then got feverish, and then he was gone,” Alys said, so softly that Rhea could barely catch her words over the roar of the ship and the sea and the suffering.

“He was all that you had?” Rhea asked.

“Aye, 'twas just me father and me. Me mum died years ago. We lived over the shop. 'Twas nice and cozy, 'twas. He was a tobacconist. We sold all types of fine tobacco and snuff to the best gentlemen in London. We had the prettiest boxes for their tobacco and delicate silver ones for the snuff. And we had pipes and lighting spills and all sorts of wonderful things. The shop smelled so good. I used to just stand there and sniff. But, 'twas a problem gettin' them fancy gents to pay, and me father, well, he wasn't a man to be pounding on another man's door demanding payment. Reckon he should've though,” Alys said sadly, thinking of the new owner of her father's shop.

“Father had powerful debts, he did. Took all the money for the sale of the shop to pay them off, and then the solicitor said that I still owed him fer handling me father's affairs, as well as a few outstanding debts. He said I'd better sign, or I could end up in debtors' prison,” Alys said, her voice quivering with unhappiness.

“What was it you signed?” Rhea demanded, her own problems temporarily forgotten while she listened in dismay to this girl's tale of misfortune.

“The indenture papers,” Alys answered. “I-I didn't want to be signin' it, but what was I to do? He had been one of father's best customers. Always paid his bills, he did. He took me up before the magistrate to sign it proper, and I-I was so scared,” she cried, sniffing with the memory of the bewigged gentleman in black, whose harsh voice had asked her if she were willing to journey to the colonies. With uncompromising sternness, he'd told her she'd be giving up her freedom for four years and that she must serve her master uncomplainingly.

“Said 'twas a legal and binding contract that I'd signed, and 'twas no way out of it unless I bought me freedom from the master. Mr. Phelps told me 'twas the only thing to do, and so I signed. Then the captain signed, 'cause he's the one who bought me. Agreed to pay me fare to the colonies, and to feed and clothe me. They tore the paper in two, and I got half, and the captain t'other half. Got it tucked away safe right here,” she confided as she thumped her chest. “When we get to the colonies, I s'pose the captain'll sell me to someone else. Maybe it'll be a merchant, since I've worked in trade, or maybe to a family who needs a good scullery. Although,” she added wistfully, “'twould be nice to be takin' care of the wee ones. Always wanted brothers and sisters, I did, but 'twasn't meant to be. Reckon it can't be no worse than in London. The captain'll find a nice place fer me,” she said, her hopeful words lingering in the silence.

“And make a fine profit, no doubt,” Rhea muttered beneath her breath, for she had often heard her parents speak of this system of indenture, which was at times little better than slavery. Unfortunately, not every indentured servant found a generous and kind master, and ofttimes found himself worse off than before.

Rhea frowned, thinking about what Alys had just told her. She had intended to confront the captain of this ship with her predicament; however, if the captain were in league with the man who'd kidnapped her, which meant he was involved in the illegal trafficking of bonded servants, then she could hardly expect to receive sympathy from him. She might very well find herself in grave danger, for he wouldn't care to face the criminal charges levied against him by the powerful Duke of Camareigh. And while at sea, Rhea suddenly realized, she was in his power, and safely out of reach of her father's great influence. She could very easily come to grief, and no one would be the wiser about her disappearance. She had no idea how many of the crew were implicated in her kidnapping. Also, the man in the red coat could very easily be on board right now.

No, Rhea decided, guided by an instinct for survival, she would not reveal her true identity to these kidnappers until she reached her destination, wherever that might be; then she would have the great satisfaction of seeing them beg for mercy. But none would be forthcoming. They had murdered Wesley Lawton, and she would see that they paid for that crime. His life had been so needlessly forfeited by these greedy men.

The profit in this trade must be enormous and the risks apparently minimal, since there were always the hopefuls and dreamers searching for a better life, who would temporarily sell their freedom for that chance. As well, there were the cells in Newgate Prison, overflowing with petty thieves and debtors who might be given a second chance in the colonies. But this time, those who had been foolhardy enough to go to Camareigh had made a terrible mistake, for surely no sane man would have dared to take the Duke of Camareigh's daughter.

Yes, Rhea thought with a slight smile, she would enjoy seeing their faces when they discovered their gallows-destined mistake. But right now, all she could wonder about was where her own destination was to be.

“Where are we bound for?” Rhea asked.

“A city called Charles Town. They say 'tis a lot like London,” Alys informed her, as if trying to convince herself that it was not a wilderness full of savages. “How long did ye sign yer indenture for?”

“I didn't sign anything,” Rhea told her bluntly. “I am here against my will.”

“'Twas odd how ye was bundled on board, but folk down here have their own woes and keep to themselves. Silent as a tomb, 'cept for the cryin'.”

“I was drugged,” Rhea enlightened her. Then, as she glanced around at the blackness engulfing her and felt the unrestrained fury of the sea throwing its might against the frail hull of the ship, she knew a sudden pessimism of spirit. “I want you to know my story, Alys,” she said quietly, as if she'd accepted the fact that this ship might become her tomb. “I want you to know who I am. And, if for some reason I do not survive this journey, I want you to be able to tell my family someday what happened to me.”

“Happened to ye?” Alys repeated nervously, sensing the fatalism in her newfound friend's voice. “Nothin' is goin' to be happenin' to ye. Please, don't be sayin' such things,” she pleaded tearfully, her fingers digging into Rhea's shoulder with a death grip.

“I am not saying that anything
will
happen, but I would feel better if someone at least knew who I was and what had happened to me.” Rhea was trying to convince the girl, but her teeth were chattering so much that she could barely speak. “Listen, Alys. I want to go home as much as you do. I don't wish to die. I was kidnapped from my home, and I have a family that I love very much, and I know that they must be dying inside wondering where I am and whether or not I am even alive.”

“I don't even know yer name,” Alys mumbled, stricken by the anguish in the other girl's voice. “I want to hear ye story. Please.”

“My name is Rhea. Lady Rhea Claire Dominick,” she told her, oddly comforted by the familiar sound of her own name on her lips.

“
Lady?
” Alys squeaked in disbelieving awe. “Coooeee! 'Tis the truth? Ye be a real ladyship? I never met any of them before, although I did meet a lord in the shop one day. Yer father, he be a lord, then?” Alys asked breathlessly.

“Yes, he is that. He is also the Duke of Camareigh,” Rhea told her, not quite prepared for Alys's squeal of excitement.

“Oh,” Alys breathed, momentarily silenced by the grandness of the title. “Yer mum, she be a duchess, then? And I bet ye've plenty of brothers and sisters too? And I reckon ye live in a grand mansion, maybe even a castle? And ye've servants, and fine silk drapes hanging from all of the windows,” she said dreamily, her terrified mind escaping from the miseries of her forced confinement and her uncertain future in the colonies. “Ye must have fine clothes, m'lady, and a room all of yer own. And d'ye—” But her daydreaming words were cut off abruptly as the ship heeled sharply, threatening to upend them across the slanting deck.

Alys's screams of terror were lost in the deafening roar of the sea and the splintering of cargo as it broke loose from its moorings and smashed against the ship, leaving a path of debris-scattered destruction. Rhea gasped in horror as she was thrown across the floor, sliding on top of Alys. They ended in a jumbled heap against the bulkhead, with other tumbling bodies careening into them.

“Ooooh, that fair cracked me head wide open, it did,” Alys groaned, feeling around in the darkness for Rhea. “Hey, where are ye? Are ye all right?”

Rhea sat slumped against the bulkhead, her head in her hands as she tried to keep from fainting. She could feel the bump on her forehead beginning to swell as she fought off the nausea.

“If only I could get some air,” Rhea cried. Futilely, she tried to rise, but staggered against Alys, who had found her friend and was trying to place the fur-lined cape around the two of them.

“W-where are ye goin'?” she demanded. “Ye're not leavin' me? Oh, m'lady, please. W-what are ye goin' to do? No, please, sit down,” Alys beseeched Rhea. “Ye can't be goin' anywhere, m'lady.”

“Up on deck,” Rhea murmured. “Fresh air.”

“Ye can't get up there, m'lady. They seal the hatches. No one will be allowed up there until the storm is over. And I heard tell that this time of year, the Atlantic is stormy all of the way across,” Alys said. Her knowledgeable words held no comfort for Rhea, who thought of the endless days and weeks that she might have to spend below decks, never knowing if the icy waters of the ocean might start pouring in, never knowing whether or not their ship would make the crossing safely.

Had Rhea known then how accurate her fears were, she might well have given up all hope, for the pattern of their journey was set that day. Soon she lost count of the days spent confined in the raw cold of the damp hold, and began to wonder if she would ever again see the light of day.

It was just as well that she had decided against confronting the captain of the
London Lady
, for of that man she saw nothing, nor did she see much of the crew, who were kept busy aloft, climbing the masts and yards. They were always shortening and trimming the sails while the ship labored through the heavy seas, her timbers straining under the pounding of the gale-fed waves. A rum-sodden ship's doctor, who doubled as the ship's cook, paid the captives of the hold a visit every so often, but he seldom stayed longer than it took to make certain the sick were still breathing.

Feasting on weak tea, noisome herring, potatoes, and oatmeal did nothing to assuage the wretched condition of the passengers in steerage; in fact, it worsened with each passing day. When a dark day dragged into night, the suffering would-be colonials knew no difference, for their eyes knew no light, nor their flesh warmth, and the hours continued to tick away with unvarying sameness.

But the blackest day of all for Rhea Claire Dominick had been the day when she'd discovered her ring missing. She had been rubbing her hands together, trying to restore the circulation to her stiff fingers, when she had felt the bareness of her finger. The loss of so treasured a personal possession, the ring that had been given to her by her parents on her seventeenth birthday, had been almost too much for her to bear. She had borne up well enough against the freezing cold that struck deep into her bones, against the unpalatable provisions she'd been forced to consume in order to survive, and even against her worst enemy—her own fears. But this final loss nearly doused that small spark, which was all that had remained of her spirit.

Day after day she sat listless and bleary-eyed, her limbs suffering with spasms of ague. Her riding habit fit her loosely now, the waist gaping wide, while the jacket hung bag-like from her shoulders. Her long golden hair fell in untidy strands to her waist, where it curled limply.

It was strange that it should be young Alys Meredith, with her fanciful dreams of grand houses and silk curtains draping every window, who should be the one to draw Rhea Claire Dominick back into the realm of the living.