Chapter 29
JAMAICA
Two Months On
Prior to her departure, Ethan had been stony-faced, holding back his feelings behind a barrier of pride. No matter the protests from anyone, or the scandal that these women should set off in such an independent manner, they went anyway.
She passed him a letter to Lord Alexander. ‘In case he’s worrying about me,’ she said with a tight smile. ‘I like to assure him that everything is fine and I am enjoying the adventure.’
His smile was equally tight as he turned the letter over between his elegant fingers, a gold signet ring flashing on one finger. For a moment his gaze rested on the seal – dark red. A sure sign of a secret.
There were ways and means he might use to open it. So be it. She had crafted a code, one based on a title in his natural history collection. The coded section of the letter was as innocent as the main message.
I am travelling to Jamaica where I intend to expose the murderers of my dear Mama Molly. And put flowers on her grave, if I can find it.
Please wish me luck in my endeavours and give my love to Pula and Dani Banchory-Bird on the occasion of their thirty-five years together.
There were no such people celebrating twenty-five years together. No such people as Pula and Dani Banchory-Bird. He’d shown her the simple code which she’d quickly learned – just in case. She felt that ‘just in case’ had finally come.
Another long sea voyage about to end in Jamaica, Lady Lochranza Kildare narrowed her eyes against the sea breeze that tossed wisps of hair around her face in shiny silk threads.
The weather gods had been kind to them, but the constant roll of the Atlantic had upset her stomach. Fresh air helped her cope.
Helen was downstairs packing their things, although it would be hours before they tied up at the dockside.
Unlike Moira Mackintosh, Helen had enjoyed the voyage down the Atlantic and into the Caribbean, crying out excitedly at the sight of flying fish and porpoise leaping in front of the ship’s bows.
‘They lied! They lied,’ she exclaimed with childish excitement.
Lochranza was intrigued. ‘Who lied?’
‘Them that told me the sea was blue. It’s not just blue! It’s all shades of blue and green, brown and even yellow. What kind of blue is that there?’
She pointed at a patch of sea to their right which being of a lighter colour stood out from the rest of the water, an island of colour in the midst of the tropical sea.
‘Turquoise.’
Lochranza’s thoughts went back to the dress she had worn to the ball in England attended by Arthur Wellesley. More specifically, she recalled the length of silk she had wound through her hair. That too had been a shade of sea green – a deeper turquoise than the sea.
She tried not to think of Ethan as they journeyed south, but the colour had brought memories she could not ignore. The night of the summer ball was the first time she’d met Ethan and gained knowledge of what her uncle really was and his relationship with the handsome Virginian.
At the time, she’d been awestruck that such a profession even existed, let alone that her own uncle was a highly exalted leader of such a tangled web. Agents! Spies!
What if I hadn’t overheard that conversation? Would I be here now?
Discarding the questions was a natural progression once she accepted that doing what she did, contriving to eavesdrop, was an intrinsic part of her nature, a particle she had inherited, it seemed, from her uncle.
‘Lady Kildare?’
‘Captain Crabbe?’ She smiled.
Captain Crabbe leaned on the ship’s rail, his hands clasped in front of him, eyes narrowed against the glare of sun on sea.
She heard the rasping of his hand scratching at his chin stubble but could not bring herself to look at him.
She knew he was drawn to her just as she was drawn to him, but he wouldn’t do anything about it.
Whatever happened between them, she was the one who had to make the first move; Captain Crabbe would not presume.
Like many men of his class, he knew his place and stayed within his boundaries, eyeing her with wonder in her fine clothes, with her silky hair and fine manners.
There was one aspect they had in common, though for now she would not mention it.
Alexander Kildare. There were many coincidences in their acquaintance.
The fact that he’d brought her a letter back in Virginia was telling in itself.
One of His Majesty’s frigates could cross the Atlantic in forty days or so travelling eastwards, faster when travelling westwards.
But Royal Navy ships carried no cargo, hence they were light before the wind.
Yes, she was right the first time. Crabbe was a courier in her uncle’s service.
Could she – should she – make the first move?
Each time she thought of Ethan’s stinging slap and its aftermath, she bristled with indignation.
‘Have you ever thought about settling down, Captain?’
The question obviously took him unawares. He almost laughed and she fancied he might be blushing beneath that salty, bronze complexion and tangled beard.
‘Staying in one place? No movement beneath my feet? No changing sky and sea?’ He shook his head. ‘No. I don’t think so.’
‘It’s not just about staying in the same place. It’s about being with the same person for the rest of your life. Could you do that?’ Her voice was warm and friendly. She could see Captain Crabbe appreciated that.
‘I dare say I could, as long as that person was as keen to discover far-distant horizons as I am. But that is far from likely. Women want home and hearth not bluff winds and towering waves. On the whole, they don’t much like to travel far from where they were born.’
‘I did.’
‘Sure. Because you were going to marry a man from Virginia. And now, according to Moira – and your independent behaviour if you don’t mind me saying – you’re not. Will you return to England?’
She shook her head. ‘No, Captain Crabbe. I travelled as a child from Jamaica to England. Now I’ve come back, though whether it will be home to me is another matter entirely.’
Merry thoughts about finally discovering the finer details of her past turned somewhat melancholy.
The sudden feeling of great loneliness took her by surprise.
On reflection, she’d always been alone; taken to Cleveland Court, mostly ignored by her uncle, brought up by servants and for the most part allowed to run wild.
The daughters of her own class had visited, though very intermittently.
She turned to the man standing beside her in his big sea boots, floppy shirt and leather jerkin.
‘Would it be possible for you to accompany me whilst I’m in Jamaica? If it doesn’t inconvenience you.’ Feisty she might be, but not foolish. Jamaica had been part of her childhood. Captain Crabbe was the sort of man who would guard her back.
‘It does not inconvenience me at all. My ship will be here. I will be on it. I have to put my head down somewhere. You are welcome to stay on board as long as you wish.’
Lochranza bit her bottom lip. Her relatives had no notion that she was about to land on their doorstep.
She hadn’t given much thought to where she would stay, somehow presuming they would offer her accommodation.
If only she’d pressed Captain O’Neill for more details when she had the chance.
Nobody could find him. Ethan had told her he might be dead.
She hadn’t been able to tell if he was lying or not.
If he was dead, then it was very inconvenient, especially now her memory had come flooding back.
So many more details would have fallen into place, but she couldn’t help thinking that he would know a few things she did not remember. After all, she had been a child.
It occurred to her that Captain Crabbe might also be in the pay of Lord Kildare, a player in his worldwide web of intelligence gatherers. Just like Captain O’Neill.
Her mind was made up, mainly because she had no other imminent options.
‘I would like to take advantage of that offer if I may, though only until such time as I find other accommodation. I would not wish to inconvenience you in any way. You have already been very kind. I will pay you.’
‘No need. Your friend O’Neill was a generous man. I was paid for my trouble. By the way. Here’s a letter I was told to give you. Sorry it’s taken so long.’
Her eyes flickered as a realisation took root. O’Neill was in the pay of Lord Kildare. It wasn’t such a big leap of faith to realise that so was Captain Crabbe.
But then, so are you, she thought to herself.
The latest missive from his lordship was the information that he had opened a letter of credit in her name. ‘For expenses whilst in the service of your country.’
No mention of her last message which was exasperating. She needed a word of reassurance from him. Any word. Unfortunately, it could take at least a month for a ship to cross from Virginia to England. Much too long.
Abruptly turning his back, Captain Crabbe strode off. Her eyes followed the square firmness of his shoulders, his shirt flapping about beneath the leather jerkin like a cast-off sail.