Chapter 22 How Dark the Night?
“I ordered you both to watch her!” Caleb stormed across his cabin, anger getting the best of his efforts to maintain a Godly composure. Alden and Liam stood at attention before him.
Alden gripped the cross around his neck. “Your father told me to keep you safe at all costs.”
Caleb gave his quartermaster a fuming look. “And you think I can’t handle one mewling popinjay?”
“As skilled with a cutlass as you are, Captain, who was to say the marquis didn’t have twenty men in the waiting?”
Caleb scrubbed his jaw, every nerve tight, every muscle twitching to rescue Desi.
“And,” Alden added, “the lady was hardly in any danger. If she had stayed in the parlor.”
’Twas true enough. Foolish woman! “And you!” Caleb all but snarled at Liam. “You allowed her to leave. Why?”
Liam lowered his gaze. “Mademoiselle de Montverre distracted me. I didn’t notice Miss Starr had left until it was too late.”
“Rot and Ruin! I should have you both flogged!” Caleb faced the window and gripped the edges of his desk until his hands ached. “But I have more pressing matters at the moment. That monster has Desi, and I must get her back.”
“And we will. With God’s help,” Alden interjected.
Pushing from his desk, Caleb spun, intent on shouting at his friend for his trite remark, but the look of peace and confidence on Alden’s face put Caleb to shame.
A knock on the door preceded Brandt limping inside, his face flushed and worry wrinkling his brow.
“What is it now, Brandt?”
“Thought you should know. At least ten of the crew are ill, Captain. Some type of fever.”
Thunder and Flame. What else could go wrong? “Do you know the cause?”
“Nay. It came upon them suddenly. Perhaps some foul food they ate.” Drawing out a handkerchief, he dabbed his brow. “I vow to determine both the cause and the cure. Never fear.”
“Then be about it.” Caleb gestured him away. “And thank you, Doctor,” he added in a softer tone.
After he left, Liam continued to stare at the deck, unable to meet Caleb’s gaze. “The marquis wants the Ring in exchange for Miss Starr?”
Caleb nodded, grinding his teeth.
“Surely you are not considering it.” Alden settled a hand on the hilt of his blade. “With the power of the Ring, an evil man like the marquis could cost many lives.”
Patches leapt onto Caleb’s desk and uttered a low guttural meow. Apparently, she agreed.
“Yet, neither can I allow an innocent woman to die!” Or any more innocents to lose their lives due to his negligence.
“I must think. There has to be a way.” Caleb hoisted Patches over his shoulder and walked to the stern windows.
Outside, a setting sun dabbed maroon and gold paint over the wavelets in the bay and lit up the sails of two ships rocking among the waters.
And a thought sprang into his mind. A brilliant thought. Setting Patches on the window ledge, he faced his men. “I will give him the Ring.” Raising a hand to silence their protests, he grinned. “Just not the real one.”
?
Desi yanked on the brass door handle one last time, even as she realized how foolish it was to repeat the same thing and expect a different outcome. The outcome, in this case, would be to flee from this locked room and escape the marquis’s mad clutches.
She had no idea what she’d done to deserve being locked up against her will.
And the two French brutes who’d caught her in the marquis’s library and dragged her here weren’t saying either.
She wasn’t a timid woman, given to bouts of fear and anxiety, but she’d been unable to stop trembling ever since the men had shoved her inside and bolted the door.
Plopping down on the narrow bed, she glanced around the room.
No bigger than a closet, its plastered white walls were damp and mottled with age.
A single window admitted a shaft of light, its iron latch bolted fast. A small chair stood in one corner beside a wobbly table on which sat a chipped washbasin.
The mattress sagged beneath her as the scent of mildew and stale smoke filled her nose.
This must be a servant’s room because it looked nothing like the rest of the Montverre estate.
A lock clanked. Desi’s heart seized. The heavy oak door swung open, and the marquis strutted in, one hand in the air, his jeweled rings glimmering in the light of the lantern he carried.
He filled the room with an air of disdainful authority, his powdered wig and silken coat out of place in such a drab place. Two men halted at the door behind him.
“Mademoiselle Starr,” he said smoothly, his French accent curling around her name.
“The stray pup our gallant Captain Hyde keeps at his side.” His eyes raked her from head to toe, assessing her as though she were no more than merchandise.
“I do apologize for such poor accommodations, but other than the gaol downtown, this is the only chamber with locks on the window.”
Desi shot to her feet, clutching the coverlet she’d been sitting on as though it were armor. Forcing down the fear she felt inside, she raised her chin. “Why am I here? What have I done to deserve this?”
A cruel smile played upon his lips. “Nothing, I assure you, mademoiselle. You are merely here because you are…useful.” He let the word hang, as if gauging her unease.
Desi swallowed hard. Useful? She could only think of one thing she was good for in this God-forsaken time. And surely this man had more than enough women to warm his bed.
When she made no reply, he waved a hand through the air. “As I informed your captain before he left, if he wishes to see you free and unscathed, he will bring me the Ring of Solomon. One trinket in exchange for a trembling dove. A fair exchange, wouldn’t you say?”
An icy chill inched down her spine. Caleb would never give the Ring to anyone. Especially not for a silly girl from the future he’d only met weeks ago. “And if he refuses?” Against her every effort, her voice quivered.
The marquis approached, showering her in the scent of his cologne and wine.
His voice lowered, but his words sliced like a knife through her heart.
“Then you had better pray, Mademoiselle Starr, that he harbors affections for you. For if he does not…” He gave her a serpent’s grin.
“I will sell you. Many a man would pay handsomely for a fair-skinned beauty such as yourself.”
Desi’s knees quaked. Horror strangled her breath. She wanted to slap the man, push him, and make a run for it. But instead, she stood taller. “Caleb…will come,” she said, more to convince herself than this man.
An amused glimmer crossed the marquis’s eyes as if impressed by her bravery. With a mocking bow, he turned and left, slamming the door behind him and sealing her once more in shadow and fear.
?
A salty breeze wafted in through the stern windows, sending candlelight flickering over the Holy Writing on the page.
The Lord is my light and my salvation;
Whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the strength of my life;
Of whom shall I be afraid?
When the wicked came against me
To eat up my flesh,
My enemies and foes,
They stumbled and fell.
Though an army may encamp against me,
My heart shall not fear;
Though war may rise against me,
In this I will be confident.
Caleb spoke the words out loud from one of his favorite Psalms. A soft purr drew his gaze to Patches, curled up in his lap.
Sitting back in his chair, Caleb petted the feline and released a heavy sigh as a familiar peace blanketed him.
How long had it been since he’d read the Scriptures?
Too long. He used to start each day with a good dose of the Holy Bread, just as his father and grandfather had taught him.
“More nourishing than real bread, the Word of God will feed your spirit and keep you sailing on calm seas under fair winds,” his grandfather, Captain Edmund Merrick, would say. “With these Holy Words.” He’d hold up his Bible. “You can conquer every enemy and live victoriously.”
Caleb had been blessed to have such Godly parents and grandparents. He shook his head. He had failed them, himself, and many others.
“I’m sorry, Lord,” he whispered, fingering the cross around his neck. “Somehow I drifted from You.” And nothing had been right since.
He’d disappointed his Lord, the One who had died for him. He’d allowed a woman to deceive and distract him, to lure him off course. Many had lost their lives. And Caleb had not only lost his confidence, but he’d also lost his deep connection with God.
Could he get it back? Or was it too late? Were his mistakes too glaring? The deaths he caused too many to be forgiven? Or at least too many for God to ever trust him with anything important again?
“I need you, this night, Lord,”
A knock preceded Alden poking his head through the open door. Upon seeing Caleb’s open Bible, his smile grew wide. “Good. You’re praying. We will need God’s help more than ever.”
Rising, Caleb set Patches on the desk and closed the Bible. “So, word was sent?”
Liam burst through the door. “Aye. His servant just dropped this off.” He waved a small piece of rag paper, folded and sealed with red wax, and handed it to Caleb.
To Capitaine Caleb Hyde,
You will present yourself at midnight at the old auction yard beyond the town wall. Bring the Ring of Solomon. In exchange, you will receive the woman.
I counsel you to come alone, and to come swiftly. Any delay or deceit will forfeit her safety.
— Louis-étienne de Montverre
Caleb tossed the note onto his desk, not wanting to even handle the same paper the marquis had touched.
Midnight. He glanced out the stern windows.
Another four hours. Four hours in which Desi suffered God-knew-what at the hands of the French madman.
Reaching into his doublet pocket, he withdrew the rings, one warming to his touch, the other cold as the gold it was forged from.
Then circling the desk, he held them up to the lantern light.
Liam whistled and drew closer. “I can hardly tell ’em apart. Which is which?”