Pirate's Golden Promise (28 page)

When they disembarked at South Street, the town of New Amsterdam became a reality. The steeple of St. Nicholas Church dominated the landscape, rising above the fort like a protective sentinel. Dusk was falling. Despite the late hour, people rushed to and fro, and when Wynter and Mary finally set foot on the cobble-stoned street, laughter and happy chatter drifted from the nearby homes and businesses.

“Puts me in mind of Port Royal a bit,” Mary commented.

“Yes, it does,” Wynter agreed. They came to Stone Street, where Captain Rye had told them they could find a fine Dutch woman who ran a boardinghouse. But Wynter was weary of the hustle and bustle of seaport towns. She longed to arrive at Lindenwyck and enjoy the peace and serenity of the countryside.

Before they left the ship, Dirk had promised her he'd make arrangements for a sloop to transport them to Lindenwyck within the next few days. So Wynter and Mary had time to gather their wits about them and get over the sensation of swaying from the long sea trip. Wynter took the diamonds she'd taken off of her gown and sold them to a jeweler on Pearl Street. She left his shop with payment in guilders, and was quite elated that the diamonds had brought more than she anticipated.

The first thing she did was to visit a dressmaker, and after rushing the woman along with fittings, in four days' time the finished gowns she'd ordered arrived at the boardinghouse.

The morning of her departure, Wynter presented to Mary and Dirk the picture of a bereaved widow, which she considered herself to be. Though she and Cort had never married, she felt she had been his wife and would have been married to him if her pride and Henry Morgan hadn't gotten in the way.

She smiled prettily at them in a gown of black silk. A white ruff surrounded the neckline as did a simple pearl choker, and on her head was a white cap. She wore sheer black gloves and held an ebony reticule. On the third finger of her left hand was the diamond ring Cort had given to her, the ring she would always think of as her wedding ring.

“Do you think I'll pass the Van Linden's inspection?” she asked Dirk, who looked much awed.

“Ja, vrouw.”

“Vrouw Van Linden,” Wynter reminded him.

Mary clapped her hands. “Captain Cort's family will take you to their hearts, when they learn you're to bear his child. I know you'll be happy at Lindenwyck.”

Wynter gave her a wan smile and twirled her black beaded reticule. She hoped she'd find favor with the residents of Lindenwyck and would be happy, but without Cort there she doubted she'd ever be truly contented. However, she'd have his child, and the child was what mattered. She was doing this for their child who was a Van Linden, and when it was born she knew no one would ever fault that fact. She imagined the baby would resemble Cort, prayed that it would. Each night she dreamed of a man with light hair and tawny eyes, a man she'd never see again. Her child must resemble him and prove to the world that he or she was a true Van Linden.

Before she left her room, she took one last look in the looking glass. No one could really tell she was pregnant. She had had the dressmaker sew some clothes she could wear when her condition became obvious, and from the fullness of her breasts and the way her abdomen seemed to enlarge each day, she knew it wouldn't be long. Her joy at carrying a child, however, was tempered with the knowledge that the father was dead and would never see his baby. A sob shook her for a moment, and Mary, who did indeed understand, rushed to her and patted her shoulder.

“All will be well at Lindenwyck. You'll see. I know it is a grand place to live.”

But all wasn't well at Lindenwyck.

In fact, as Rolfe Van Linden stalked down the long, drafty corridors and found his way along the marble staircase to the vestibule below, he wondered if anything would be right again. He passed the sitting room where his mother sat on the Russian leather chair and spoke to young Mikel who slumped in a matching chair, and Rolfe thought of the hopelessness of the situation that presented itself.

Once again his wife had duped him, this time in his own home. He had overlooked her previous dalliances, but to bed the stable boy in her own room was unforgivable. Why couldn't Katrina use some sense, have some discretion, he found himself thinking for the thousandth time in their married life. He'd opened the door and there she had been, naked with perspiration glistening on her pale, perfect body as she lay atop the young stable boy who could hardly be older than 17 but appeared virile and more manly than Rolfe would have liked. And to think she only glanced up at him, so unconcerned, undisturbed by his presence, then to ignore him and continue pleasuring her much-flustered lover.

How Rolfe hated her!

He'd slammed the door and taken off, and now he stood above the precipice that dropped hundreds of feet to the waters of the North River. Behind him was the stone edifice he called home. Lindenwyck. Place of the Lindens. He almost laughed aloud at this. He considered himself to be the only true Van Linden after his father died, since Cort left. The blood of his Dutch ancestors flowed through him, but he couldn't discount Mikel, as much as he wished. Mikel Van Linden, his heir, aged ten, would one day take over the patroonship of Lindenwyck upon his death. A death Rolfe didn't see occurring for a good number of years yet. He knew he had to leave everything to the boy, but he resented the blond-haired son of his wife. The child wasn't his own.

Oh, Katrina had tried to foist the boy off on him, telling him the child was premature. However, Mikel had been a very large baby, well over nine pounds, the midwife had proclaimed, and Rolfe knew that premature babies didn't come into the world at such large weights. He told her bluntly that he didn't believe her lie and knew the child had been sired by his cousin, Cort. Katrina had looked at him from those huge blue eyes which had intrigued him, enticed him, and she said, “What will you do about it, Rolfe? Admit your cousin is more man than you? I think not. You want me as your wife, and now I've presented you with an heir. I doubt that your mother would be pleased to learn that her grandchild is the whelp of her nephew.”

After that he took his pleasure with her whenever it suited him, and Katrina became pregnant, but the child died at birth. Though he wished for other children, Katrina disgraced herself with too many men for him to want to touch her again. The men were well-bred, and her sojourns had been away from the house, but during the last year she stayed at home and took her lovers to her bed there. Rolfe was never certain whether overnight guests frequented her. He was grateful that none of his friends ever uttered an untoward remark in his presence or hinted that they'd bedded Katrina Van Linden, but Rolfe felt less than a man and was thankful that his mother was too naive to realize what was happening under her nose.

He should throw the harlot out, but he couldn't. Katrina had a hold on him, knew that he had once killed one of her lovers in a fit of jealous fury shortly after the miscarriage. The man, a business acquaintance, had spent the night at Lindenwyck, Rolfe found him with Katrina in the hayloft the next morning, having had no idea they'd sneaked away. This was the first time he realized she bedded men other than servants, and with a fury he hadn't known he possessed, he ran the man through with a pitchfork. The killing seemed to excite Katrina's passions for Rolfe, but Rolfe pushed her aside in disgust.

He had covered the man's body with the hay he'd lain in to pleasure Katrina, then at midnight of the next night he carted the body away and dumped it into the North River. Now, each time he looked into the river's swirling depths, he almost imagined he saw the face of that poor, besotted merchant.

A warm September breeze ruffled his light brown hair. If anyone had seen him standing in the gathering dusk, they'd believe that the patroon of Lindenwyck was a man in control of his own life, his family's, his home. No one would guess that the tall, muscular man, dressed in a black knee-length coat and breeches, was anything other than master of his own home. Not a soul would have guessed that Rolfe Van Linden envied his wayward cousin, Cort, simply because Cort had had the good fortune not to marry the scheming, beautiful Katrina Verleth. But Rolfe had, and regretted the marriage every day of his life.

He must soon do something about the situation. He needed a woman who'd love him, who'd take delight in him, not only in clothes and expensive baubles and bright parties. He dismissed Gerta Lindstrum, the plain and shy widow of one of his tenants. He'd bedded her the last three years, and though he knew she'd make him a fine wife, he could never marry her. Gerta was of common blood, not fit for the wife of a patroon. If only he could find a woman deserving enough of the Van Linden name, he'd somehow free himself of Katrina and marry her. Rolfe moved away from the precipice and walked back to the stone turreted house which was filled with hatred and loathing. His home.

A
slight
wind
glided the sloop along the North River. Dirk, in charge of the boat, told Wynter they'd arrive at Lindenwyck by mid-afternoon of the next day. Wynter, for all her eagerness to see Lindenwyck, was apprehensive. Would the Van Lindens accept her? Would they believe she was Cort's widow? She prayed so. With each watery mile, she wanted herself, but especially the child she carried, to be accepted by Cort's family.

Both Wynter and Mary watched with interest as they passed small Dutch settlements. Dirk warned them of possible Indian attacks from the tree-shrouded shoreline, so the sloop stayed a distance from the shore.

True to his word, the last afternoon of the trip, Dirk pointed to a large stone mansion sitting on top of a high precipice. “There's Lindenwyck,” he said. He told Wynter he'd been there only once, five years ago when Cort had anchored in New Amsterdam and Dirk had delivered a message to Lena Van Linden that her nephew was safe.

“You didn't tell me that, Dirk,” Wynter gently chided.

Dirk shrugged. “Not much to tell, vrouw. I went inside and spoke to Captain Cort's aunt. I didn't meet his cousin, but I did see his cousin's wife and little boy.”

“Were they kind?” Wynter asked, hoping she would receive a warm reception.

“His aunt was a nice woman, but the young one—” Dirk hesitated. “Well, she was not so nice.” He remembered the personal questions Katrina Van Linden had asked about Cort when she cornered him in the garden before his swift departure. Dirk frowned now as he did then. He didn't think it was proper for a married lady to take such an interest in a man other than her husband.

Wynter gazed at the gray stone mansion. Lindenwyck. Cort's home. Tears welled within her to realize he'd never see it again, but a sense of peace filled her now that she was really here. Her child would be born within those walls, the child of her one and only love.

Dirk tied the sloop at the wharf that jutted out into the river and helped the women out of the boat. A burly-looking Dutchman approached, and when Dirk told him that Wynter was the wife of Cort Van Linden, the large man kissed her hand and told her he'd be proud to escort her to the house.

Wynter was startled, and much pleased, by the warm reception she received from Cort's Aunt Lena. The small, gray-haired woman clasped her to her bosom, her watery blue eyes blinking back tears. Rolfe bowed formally and kissed her hand, seemingly aloof but in reality quite awestruck by Wynter's beauty. Katrina, however, barely gave her a nod of welcome.

Lena clasped her hands together. “This is a sad but happy day for the Van Lindens. My Cort, oh my beloved Cort, has died, but his wife is here to comfort me in my sadness. I am most grateful to you, dear, for visiting. Your presence eases my pain. Our pain,” Lena said and directed a glance to Rolfe and Katrina.

Rolfe agreed that Wynter's visit to tell them about Cort did help, but Katrina said nothing, only eyed Wynter coldly.

“I trust I'm not putting you out by arriving unexpectedly,” Wynter said to Lena. “If so, I shall take accommodations elsewhere.”

“Nonsense!” Rolfe put in before Lena had a chance to speak. “My mother and I are pleased to meet you despite the sadness of the circumstances.”

“You're all very kind. The last few months have been most trying.”

“My dear, you're quite pale. Are you ill?”

Wynter gave a weak smile. “Not really ill, only expecting a child.”

“How wonderful!” Lena cried. “A new baby is coming. You must stay here for as long as you like. Lindenwyck is now your home, too. Is it not?” Lena looked to Rolfe and Katrina for confirmation.

Rolfe heartily concurred, still overwhelmed by the beautiful woman his cousin had had the good fortune to marry. Rolfe always considered himself a good judge of humanity, except where Katrina had been concerned. He knew instinctively that Wynter Van Linden possessed good breeding, something which always appealed to Rolfe. However, Katrina barely glanced at her new cousin when she said with an edge to her voice, “If you say so, Mother.”

“I shall escort our cousin Wynter to her room,” Rolfe volunteered suddenly as two servants appeared in the doorway, ready to carry Wynter's trunks upstairs.

“That is most kind of you,” Wynter told him and smiled brightly but tiredly at him.

When they walked out of the sitting room, Wynter couldn't help but notice the baleful glance Katrina threw her way. Could just the fact that her husband showed her to her room cause the woman to dislike her so quickly? Wynter wondered. But she decided to be kind to Katrina. Perhaps she really wasn't as cold as she appeared.

Rolfe lingered at the door while the servants put the trunks in place. The large bedroom captivated Wynter with its gold-and-silver silk hangings and matching spread and curtains. Two gray chairs sat before the large fireplace, and on the floor was a Persian rug in multi shades of reds and grays.

Mary went to work unpacking immediately. Wynter gave Rolfe another warm smile. “I know I shall be quite comfortable here. Your family has been very kind to me.”