Chapter 30
Kingston stank of fish, men’s sweat and animal droppings. The noise was the same too, though because she was feeling unwell, it seemed louder, reverberating inside her head like a team of men with many hammers.
Blaming the nauseous by smells that had soaked into the very planks of the ship over the years, she ejected the contents of her stomach over the side and into the sea. ‘I trust it was nothing you had for breakfast. My man Stylo didn’t cook it himself. I got it for you from an Italian baker I know.’
‘It was very good bread,’ she assured Captain Crabbe. And it was. However, her stomach didn’t seem partial to bread at present. In fact, it didn’t seem partial to anything. Her nerves were on edge.
The day was humid. Nobody could help being languid.
Lochranza fell asleep in the shade up on the deck, her feet resting on a cask that had once held rum. Thanks to the crew, the rum was long gone, but the benefits of raising her feet still made it of value.
* * *
It was evening and the sun was setting in the west in a riot of burnished gold, salmon pink and blood orange red when Captain Crabbe came to tell her that he’d found her a villa to rent.
He explained he’d made enquiries of a shipping agent and other people he thought could help. ‘A house. A house to suit a fine lady like you.’
‘Captain, I will be eternally grateful. It is indeed a miracle. How did you manage it?’
He shrugged. ‘It rather fell into my lap thanks to a very dear friend. A real good friend as it turns out. Apparently he knew this other guy… Anyway, one thing led to another – as these things often do…’
‘This sounds very intriguing. Can you tell me the identity of my benefactor?’
‘It’s a secret,’ he said, shaking his head.
‘Just accept that I have useful connections. I’ve also got transport – not exactly a coach and four and it came without a driver.
I won’t go into detail as to why that occurred, but hey, Stylo’s volunteered, though he doesn’t know that yet.
It’ll get him out of the galley. Who knows, driving a mule and cart might suit him better. ’
Where was the real driver of the vehicle?
she wondered. From experience of Captain Crabbe’s ways, she decided not to press the point.
In all likelihood, Captain Crabbe might have stolen whatever conveyance awaited them, but she was loath to ask.
She needed a bath and to change her clothes.
The last thing she wanted was to arrive at St Andrew’s Manse, the Kildare plantation house, looking crumpled and smelling of mould.
The interior of a ship was never dry. All her clothes had taken on that faint mustiness.
Some had taken on more than the smell, patches of green sprouting on the most deeply stored items.
Thankfully, the dress she had chosen to wear improved somewhat once it was hanging on a halyard, billowed and battered by a fresh breeze and hot sun; both helped blow the dampness away.
‘I like my new sail,’ Captain Crabbe remarked. He also went on to remark that she looked beautiful enough as it was without having to change her clothes, this coming from a man who was as far from being a dandy as it was likely to be.
Although appreciating his flattering comment, she was adamant about dressing to impress. If there was one thing she’d learned from Moira Mackintosh, it was that first impressions mattered. The shrewd Scotswoman’s wise words echoed in her brain.
‘No man can say no to a beautiful woman who is well dressed, smells nice and can charm the birds off the trees. A good first impression counts for a lot.’
Lochranza smiled at the memory of the words of wisdom Moira had tried so hard to instil in her. Most had gone over her head, but some, the most useful, had stayed with her, popping up in odd moments when they really seemed to matter.
‘There’s water and soap at the house. I guarantee it,’ Captain Crabbe added.
Normally, neither Lochranza nor Helen would regard either as the ultimate in luxury. They did now, sighing and raising their eyes to heaven as though something quite celestial had been bequeathed to them.
Luggage preceded them down to the waiting vehicle, which turned out to be a two-wheeled conveyance pulled by a long-eared mule.
Lochranza paused. It would have made a better impression for her to arrive at her newly rented house in a carriage pulled by four handsome horses.
The old saying about looking a gift horse in the mouth was right there ready for her.
This was it. The mule and the shabby cart, plus its less than well-presented driver, would have to do.
The wheels and the underbelly of the cart creaked a bit as the luggage was loaded and a bit more once Lochranza and Helen were helped to climb in the back.
Captain Crabbe and Stylo, cook, deckhand and now coach driver – though coach was too lofty a word for the ramshackle vehicle – were all safely ensconced aboard, a motley crew if ever there was one.
Stylo was one of those people who popped up all over the boat doing whatever job came to hand.
And here he was again, not the most alluring of countenances, with his flat frying-pan face and straggly hair.
It would have helped if he washed a bit more often.
Stylo smelled of grease and fish innards, not entirely a big surprise seeing as it was his responsibility to catch fish for supper whenever possible before cooking it in whatever way he felt appropriate.
Overall, he had the look of a scoundrel and most definitely of a footpad, but he was devoted to Captain Crabbe and wouldn’t hear a word against him.
If anyone had based their impression of Stylo by the look in his eyes, they would have thrown him overboard. However, it seemed Crabbe trusted him to carry out any task presented and if he trusted him, then so would she.
‘You sure you can drive this thing?’ Captain Crabbe asked him.
‘No problem, Captain Crabbe. You depend on old Stylo to get you through. I can make this old mule canter swifter than a Kentucky blueblood. Never fear.’
Lochranza held back her reservations and the plain fact that the chief fame of mules was their stubbornness not their speed.
Crabbe was obviously of the same view. ‘Just a trot will have to do, Stylo,’ he murmured with an air of resignation. ‘No point in making a mongrel think it’s a greyhound!’
The sun was setting behind the green hills. Trees and buildings were silhouetted against its fiery finale. On the road they traversed, there was only one house standing. It was pink and white.
Lochranza roared with laughter. ‘It looks like a birthday cake.’
Captain Crabbe looked hurt. ‘I thought you’d like it.’
‘Of course I do. Thank you, Captain Crabbe. It’s lovely. I think you’ve been very clever to get me this at such short notice.’
She wondered at the swiftness of finding such a beautiful house. Who were these people he knew?
Alighting, he opened a pair of dark green gates.
Green lawns bordered a broad driveway of yellow stone. A long veranda ran the length of the ground floor and white shutters adorned every window, giving some relief to the expanse of pink walls.
The smell of hibiscus and tropical lilies hung heavy in the air. Mature trees at the back of the property made the house look as though it were set in a bright green frame.
Two figures, obviously gardeners, their hats pulled low over their faces, barely acknowledged them as the mule walked doggedly on, Stylo cursing the creature when it failed to respond to his laying on of the reins, his method of urging it into a trot.
The creature had ceased trotting long ago and seemingly had no intention of doing so ever again. A plod was as fast as it would go.
Lochranza leaned forward, her eyes taking in every detail of the prettily pink house. Pale pink. The colour she’d always refused to wear.
Who, she wondered, owned such a sugar plum of a house? Surely it must be somebody she knew, or why would they have been willing to loan it?
One or two possibilities came to mind. Both were swiftly discarded. One was hiding somewhere in the forest and the other was in England.
‘I think I might love this place,’ she said, turning this way and that to take it all in.
‘It sure is pretty,’ remarked Helen, who sat clutching the portmanteau containing Lady Kildare’s jewellery.
Lochranza addressed Captain Crabbe. ‘Was it very expensive?’
He shook his head. ‘Not at all.’
‘I insist you tell me the price so I can settle with you.’
Paying her way had never been a problem. Her uncle had made her an allowance. All she had to do was go along to any bank or shipping office where he owned shares and he owned shares in quite a lot.
He shook his head. ‘No need. The guy who owns it approached me. He heard you were on board and asked if there was anything he could do to help out.’
Lochranza frowned. ‘Did he give you his name?’
Captain Crabbe shook his head. ‘No. He said he would introduce himself to you once you were settled in.’
‘Was it the same man who paid you to buy me at the auction?’
He shrugged. ‘I couldn’t say. Not for sure. But I don’t think so.’
She suspected he was lying. Not that it mattered. A comfortable bed and a smart house was just the thing she needed before she tackled her family and anyone else who might have known Mamma Molly.
Still, it did seem strange that the person allowing her to use this place wished to protect his identity.
Wary she might be entering yet another trap like the one she’d walked into on the Dutch ship, she asked if the owner would be living there whilst she was there.
‘Not at all! He said the house is at your disposal for as long as you wish. He hopes you will be comfortable and if there is anything you want, to let him know and he’d be only too pleased to help. There,’ he said finally as Stylo pulled the mule to a halt. ‘Home sweet home!’
Captain Crabbe helped her down from the cart. She approached the house stealthily, her eyes darting from window to window, climbing rose to wisteria and all other manner of flowering climbing plants.
Once she’d ascended the marble steps, she admired the front door which the owner had had painted a darker pink than the walls.
Captain Crabbe had given her the key. With a trembling heart, she inserted it into the keyhole, turned it and entered.
The interior of the house was cool. Lochranza stood in the middle of the reception hall, a place of pale pink walls and white marble flooring.
It wasn’t lost on her that the colour scheme was just the same as the outside, but that wasn’t the cause of her standing there evaluating that the owner was allowing her the use of this place for nothing.
Who was the owner? Her curiosity was aroused and wouldn’t go away.
Captain Crabbe seemed to think he was merely a friend. Nothing more. It was possible that it was Captain O’Neill, but if it wasn’t him, who was it?
The receiving rooms, the library, a study, the bedrooms, were all decorated in calm colours, though thankfully not all were pink.
Lochranza chose one with pale green walls and white shutters that opened onto a balcony.
A cool breeze tossed tendrils of hair around her face and cooled her skin. She took deep breaths.
In the far distance between treetops and sky, the sea was visible in triangles of iridescent blues and greens.
She heard the faint sound of surf tumbling onto a shingle beach.
She didn’t know for sure it was shingle, but she remembered one just like it not far from that small house she’d once lived in.
Yet again, as she’d done so many times recently, she grappled for some semblance of sense in what had happened.
She couldn’t believe the reason Molly died was purely because she was black.
There had to be another reason for torturing her to death.
Torture in olden times had been about getting people to confess their sins or their secrets.
Nobody tortured for no purpose. Confession and secrets were the most likely, but what confession? What secrets?
She became aware of Captain Crabbe standing behind her and felt his eyes following every movement.
He wanted more than to be of service to her, but no matter how she tried and how much she thought he deserved it, she could not do that, at least not just yet.
She liked him well enough, but Ethan was still in her heart and in her soul.
‘Captain Crabbe,’ she declared somewhat imperiously. ‘I want a message sent to my relatives – the Kildares – that I am here and am available to receive visitors. Can you do that?’
A slight frown wrinkled his brows. ‘Do you want me to go knocking on their door?’
‘Only if you have your decent clothes with you, those you wore when you were bidding for a certain lost soul at the auction.’
‘I can do that. If you give me the address, it won’t take long to get there, seeing as we’ve still got the cart.’
She spun round to face him, looking every inch the lady of the manor. ‘You cannot arrive at my relatives in a cart pulled by a contrary mule.’
‘Lulu isn’t that contrary. I’ve known women far worse than her.’ He smiled as he said it and Lochranza smiled too. If anyone was likely to pull her off her high horse, it was Captain Crabbe.
‘Quite so. I suggest you return her to her rightful owner. Perhaps you could give him a coin for borrowing her. I take it that’s what you did?’
Captain Crabbe was good at looking innocent, but he didn’t look like that now, although his air of defiance remained intact. The man was irascible. And she loved him for it.
‘Captain Crabbe,’ she said, more familiar now. ‘No doubt there are livery stables hereabout. Once you’ve washed and changed, hire a horse and ride out to the Kildare plantation. Anyone can tell you where it is.’
But not me, she thought to herself. I was the youngest member of the family and was not allowed to grow up there. Hidden away with Mama Molly in a single-storey house close to the sea. Had they hoped I might wander off and fall over it, she mused.
At first, it seemed an extreme assumption. On reflection, it all depended on the circumstances of her birth. What was the truth about her parentage? And what would persuade the family to disown her, to place her at a great distance.
The most generic answer was obvious. Scandal! A family scandal!
She shook the thought from her head as being too vague and unproven. She went back instead to instructing Captain Crabbe as to how he should look and introduce himself.
‘I notice there are gentlemen’s outfits in the upstairs dressing room, obviously belonging to whoever it is who owns this house.’
Helen brought down a few items and showed them to him.
Captain Crabbe winced. ‘They’re a bit showy.’
Helen grinned. Lochranza’s eyes twinkled. She outlined her instructions. He winced some more but nodded that he would do whatever she wanted.
‘Good,’ said Lochranza. ‘Once you’ve done that, come back here and report to me.’