The Bride of Blackbeard (17 page)

“Oh, thank You, God,” she cried, as she
turned and flung her arms around his neck.

Fingers traced the musket on her lap as they
headed toward Bath to find Katrina. Stanzy’s troubled mind
raced.

Aunt Rose had made them promise a return
visit soon after the baby was born. Every time Constanza insisted
she wasn’t pregnant, Rose just gave her a knowing look.

Surely with my background, I would know.

Her head bobbed and dipped as the rattle and
movement of the carriage lulled her to sleep after the night’s
toiling against the storm.

~ * ~

“
Come here, Constanza.” Uncle Delvin’s
deep rumbling baritone beckoned. His formidable voice completely
contradicted his personality, for he was the most approachable man
she’d ever met, not to mention the only one she’d ever felt truly
loved her. Hands so massive, his fingers looked like little bangers
to her as a child.

“
Yes, Uncle?” She didn’t feel the day
could have gotten any better. He’d come and taken her by herself to
the country. He had let her ride one of his new, best horses. His
cook served her supper, and as she was usually the one doing the
serving, it was a fantastic treat.

It wasn’t very often that anyone was
concerned with her happiness, so this special time was utopia in
her eyes.

“
I want to teach you something today, and
I want you to keep it between us—a secret if you will. Not many
people would approve of it as it is entirely unconventional for a
lady, but let’s face it poppet, nothing in your sixteen years has
been conventional.”

He pulled out his musket and handed it to
her. When she took it, her hands fell a few inches with the
weight.

“
I will not always be around to look
after you, and your brother and sister. I will sleep better knowing
you are able to defend yourself.” He removed the powder
horn.

She swallowed hard and studied every
movement as he poured the gunpowder into the barrel.

“
You need a piece of cloth, as a seal
over the gunpowder.” He ripped off a small scrap from a larger
cloth and spat on it. “This is called a spit patch.”

Her eyes narrowed. He rolled his eyes and
said, “It is to create a seal for pressure in the barrel. My
goodness child, that mind was made for science.”

He handed her the lead ball. “Place it in
the barrel and then use your ‘rod’ to push it down. You must make
sure it is all the way down to the powder. Once your rod bounces a
bit when you drop it, then you know it is ready.”

She cocked the gun, and he poured the powder
into the frism pan. “Make sure some powder gets into the hole, so
that the ignition spark travels inside.”

As she shot the musket the first time, the
noise made her jump. By the end of the day, she was able to use the
sights to at least shoot in a general direction. As night began to
fall Uncle Delvin helped her into the carriage, and she found
herself wishing she could stay with him—forever. When she was here,
she actually felt a little like a child again, as she knew he would
take care of her.

But it was not to be. As they approached
Bristol, the tears started to streak down her filthy face, cutting
black tracks on her cheeks. Although she loved her siblings dearly,
she dreaded returning to this life.

He put his arm around her. “I know how it is
for you, but I am out to sea most of the year, and he is still your
father. I will be back as soon as I am able, and I will bring all
of you out to my manor, for a fortnight next time.”

~ * ~

As they rattled along on the way to
Hawthorne House, Stanzy’s thoughts kept returning to Aunt Rose, and
her striking personality. During their time together, Stanzy had
learned, much to her delight, that Rose had knowledge of healing
maladies using nutrients from the sea. It seemed like another
lifetime since her mother had shared the herbal teachings with
her.

Rose told her she’d discovered oil from cod
had healing properties that dramatically aided vision in some of
the older folks. She’d been cautioned by other Bankers, however,
just to use the oil from the fish, and not the fish’s liver, as
some had died when this was used.

Constanza immediately thought of Megan’s
photophobia. Something was clearly wrong with the child’s eyes, for
she continually squinted, or looked out of the corner of her eye at
you. Occasionally Megan would take shiny objects and whisk them
back and forth across her field of vision and scream with delight.
Other days, she could barely open her eyes.

Stanzy was anxious to try this treatment on
her, which she decided must be absolutely better than leeches.

~ * ~

Katrina almost took flight, bounding off the
porch steps of Hawthorne House.

She flung herself around Constanza’s neck.
Stanzy reluctantly admitted she’d rarely seen Katrina look so well.
Her dark brown hair curled around her face and her cheeks flushed
with happiness.

“Oh, I am so glad to see you, Mrs. Smythe!”
she bubbled. “And you, Lucian. Oh, I forgot, Mrs. Blackwell!”

They sat sipping tea in the sitting room.
The master and mistress of the house frequently traveled, leaving
the care of the children to Katrina.

“It has been glorious here. The children
complete their studies and then I am free to do as I please. I have
had so many gentlemen callers since I arrived, I can barely count
them all! I have two that I favor, one is named Anthony Thomason,
and I am afraid you quite know the other well—dear Edward.”

“Teache?” sputtered Lucian, losing half the
mouthful of tea back into his cup. “Katrina, you can’t be
serious.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, I am deadly serious,
dear brother. Although Anthony is beautiful to look at, I am afraid
he is poor as a church mouse. Edward, on the other hand...well
let’s just say he can provide me with the means to a secure life.
Look, he brought me back this from his last voyage.”

Around her neck was a beautiful gem of
unrecognizable origin to Stanzy. She looked gravely at Lucian from
behind Katrina’s back when she turned to address him.

Constanza took a deep breath before speaking
and silently said a prayer so that she might be articulate and
reach Katrina’s heart with her meaning. She knew deep down,
however, that as much as you might love someone, you cannot change
inherently w
ho they are.
So, even as she spoke the
words, she was certain they would fall on deaf ears.

“Katrina, darling. I understand the
practicality of marrying into a more favorable station and
arrangement. You know that I am nothing if not pragmatic. But, one
must be sure of the character of the betrothed, because if the
character is heavily flawed, then the amount of heartache will far
outweigh any benefits of a comfortable living.”

Lucian held very still, not commenting on
what she’d just spoken. She caught the briefest twitch under his
eye.

Here it comes...

“Oh! I should have known you could not just
be happy for me! Just because he did not meet
your
high
standards, does not mean he is not worth considering as a match!
You are jealous of me! You always have been.” Katrina leaped off
the settee and set to pacing back and forth in front of Constanza,
her hands balled into fists.

Jealous of what? Your oblivion of all
things necessary? That I cannot live in your dream world? Maybe I
am jealous of that
!

Inhaling deeply, Constanza exerted a level
of self-control she saved exclusively for Katrina and Will. By the
look on Lucian’s face, he was clearly amazed she’d held her temper
in check. Probably thinking she wouldn’t have hesitated to unleash
an onslaught of words on him had he acted like Katrina.

He stood. “Ladies, I am going to take a turn
on the grounds.”

After he departed, Constanza grabbed her
sister’s hand. “Kitty, I am not jealous. I only want what is best
for you. Yes, I would have you marry so that you were secure, but
also for love. If the young man you described has not taken your
heart, then perhaps neither of these suitors is right for you. Let
us be honest, you are beautiful and intelligent. Many more offers
will be made to you.”

“You do not understand, Stanzy. I want out
of here. I cannot stand being a governess! I have no other
profession that is more favorable, however. If I marry Edward, I
can leave here, and have servants of my own.”

Stanzy tried to think quickly, how to make
someone so young see that the easy decision was rarely the correct
one? That having a marriage with who knows what horrible toils,
would hardly be worth having servants?

“Katrina, I know you are not going to
believe me, but nothing ever worth doing is easy—there may be a few
exceptions, but it is usually true. Marrying Edward would be easy,
and a quick answer to a problem you have, but over the course of
time, I am certain a much more favorable alternative will present
itself. Have patience. Have faith.”

At this, Katrina managed a real smile.
“Dearest Stanzy. You have always been the one with all the
patience. When we were children, you were the one who could wait
for dessert, and wait to open a present ‘til everyone else had done
so first. I think mother gave you all of the patience, and had none
left to give me when I came along. Please stay a few days. Edward
is to return soon, and I would love for you and Lucian to sup with
us.”

Stanzy conjured this picture in her mind and
almost laughed out loud. The recollection of Lucian with his pistol
pointed at Teache's head, firmly fixed in her mind.

“Katrina, that would not be a good idea. I
would love to meet your other suitor, however.”

~ * ~

As Hawthorne House receded from view,
Constanza glared over her shoulder at it.

That was a waste of time and effort. I feel
worse than I did before. With all the foolish decisions she is
making, I fear she may turn into our father with a ‘poof’ at any
time.

Remorse sickened her gut at having spent
half her life trying to keep her sister safe and alive, and now as
an adult, Katrina was putting herself in jeopardy. At times like
these, she actually wished for a magic wand that could return
Katrina to a child. True things were awful then, but at least she
knew her whereabouts and that she was safe.

Lucian looked at Constanza’s somber face.
“Well, Anthony was quite a good fellow,” he said hopefully.

“Yes. Unfortunately, a lot of good that will
do, since he is not Edward Teache.”

~ * ~

Opening her eyes, the child’s breath came in
gasps. She stood on tiptoes and craned her neck to see out the
carriage window. Immediately she recognized the dark old stones,
the chimneys with smoke billowing out of them. Her tiny hands shook
with the memories, and what would come next inside that wretched
building.

Unable to stop them, the screams flew out of
Megan’s mouth.

~ Chapter Ten ~

She lay curled on the cot on the dirt floor.
Shaking from the cold, Megan fingered the rough horse
blanket. No one else had come in; she was alone. She didn’t
like alone. But if the others came, they would scare her. Big
like Ma and Pa, they didn’t act like them.

The
others
pulled her hair and hit
her and pushed her off the cot at night.

She didn’t understand why she was so
different. Even in little ways. Like Ma and Bess could wear
dresses, but when she put one on, her skin came alive, as if bugs
crawled all over her. And the pain in her head—it was so great at
times, the only way to stop it was to hit it, or push it against
something hard.

She could learn some things. Like she’d been
taught biting and kicking, they were wrong. But silly things made
her so mad, almost every day, and then she had no control of how
she acted.

She so wanted to be good.

They would come for her, wouldn’t they? Ma
and Pa wouldn’t forget about her and leave her here. She could not
tell them what she wanted, the words...they just stayed up
there...stuck in her head, which was why she got so angry. Except
lately Ma had taught her a way to make her mouth speak, and even
her body to do what she told it to do. And then this speaking with
her fingers.

Megan, signed
Help
and then
Stop
. Bess had said it was a miracle. Whatever a miracle was
she knew she liked it.

When she thought
Run
she could run!
It was the best few days ever; until one of the men from the
Blackhouse came and made her cry. Since then, she hadn’t been able
to get her body to listen to her.

She didn’t know if she would live if they
put her in the cold bath like last time.

Suddenly, an old woman was in the
cell—pitched in by a pair of hands it almost looked like she’d
flown in. The woman fell in a heap onto the floor in front of her.
For a while, she just lay there. Then the woman spoke in a funny
voice, like the one Ma made sometimes when she read scary
stories.

“Who is there? Who is here with me? Is it
you, Mary?”

On her hands and knees, the old woman
started crawling toward Megan. Her bony fingertips brushed the end
of Megan’s boot. She pulled away as if she’d been bitten.

“Who is that? Come closer so that I may see
you.”

Quick as she knew how Megan scrambled to the
corner of the cell, closed her eyes and began to rock back and
forth, staying in a safe place in her mind.

In her mind’s eye, the swing behind home
came into view. The grass was green and the boys were there. She
felt their hands on her back as they pushed her on the swing. She
wanted her soft doll, and the way Ma swung her round and round.
Tears came from her eyes, which she hated because every drop burned
her cheek like she’d been scratched.