Chapter 2 #2
‘There’s no time to explain now. Just trust me. Trust him too.’ She jerked her shiny chin at the man beside her. ‘You will be safe with the captain. Go! He’s a good man. He’s come to help you.’
‘I don’t want to.’ Curled up into a ball, she backed onto the pillows at the head of the bed and fixed her gaze on the stranger.
The man born from shadows filled the room and her sight. There was nothing else but him.
So focused on this man, it came as a surprise when Mama Molly’s velvet soft lips brushed against her ear.
‘You will be safe with Captain O’Neill. You must go with him, child. You must trust him. Your father is dead. It isn’t safe for you to stay here.’
Lochranza turned from the man to her nurse. She was scared – as scared of leaving the familiar as she was of the man who’d invaded her home. But she was also defiant. ‘No!’ Her jaw clamped hard around the word, her chin jutting some way forward of its usual position. ‘I won’t go!’
A look of compliance flashed between the two adults. The man turned to Mama Molly and spoke softly. ‘Go and pack some things. Only essentials. I’ve no time for fripperies.’ His tone was abrupt, his expression grim.
Molly seemed about to open her mouth but equally seemed to think better of it. ‘Yes, sir,’ she said.
The man took a step forward. Lochranza curled herself into a tighter ball.
The man took another step, his footfall as soft as his voice. The flickering flame of the candle he held made dark hollows of his eyes, his beard a patch of darkness.
‘Don’t be frightened,’ he said.
Her stomach tightened and her bladder felt loose. She badly needed to pee, but she wouldn’t. As was her habit when cornered, she came out fighting.
‘I’m not afraid of you! I’m not afraid of anyone!’
His smile was slow, perhaps a little sad. ‘That’s an interesting way of speaking that you have, my lady.’
Lochranza eyed him with mute surprise. She’d never been addressed as ‘my lady’ before. ‘Why do you call me that?’
‘My lady?’ His smile widened. She was young but had certainly surprised him. ‘I suggest you get used to it. You’ll have more people calling you that once you’re safe and sound.’
He noted the child’s frown. She had no idea of who she was, let alone what was in store for her.
There was a hint of patois in her voice, understandable living with the mulatto woman, but Mama Molly knew her business.
She’d protected the child this far but wouldn’t be able to in future.
It would have been better if Sir Edward had lasted a little longer, but that, alas, was not to be.
He’d been thrown from his horse. It was an accident.
That was what everyone said, though the horse wasn’t known to be in the least bit flighty.
O’Neill was suspicious, but there was no time to make enquiries.
‘Do you want to die?’ asked O’Neill. ‘Or do you want to be a lady?’
He could see that the question took her off guard, her little face wincing before something seemed to surge inside her and set her features with determination.
‘No!’ That jutting chin again. ‘No. I have no wish to die and I’m not going to die. Not until I am old and fat anyway.’ She sounded resolute. Her eyes shone brightly.
Pleasantly surprised at her attitude and hiding his smile, O’Neill sat himself down on the dainty chair in the corner.
Lochranza stared at the chair legs, waiting for them to snap. He was too big for the tiny chair, his long legs seeming to stretch halfway across the room.
He regarded her calmly as he nodded agreement. ‘You’re right. We all must die sooner or later. But I dare say you have no wish to die today. Am I right?’
Somewhere in the other room, she could hear the lids of chests and of drawers opening and closing. It sounded as though Molly was packing.
O’Neill cocked an ear in that direction too. He was getting impatient. Molly was taking too long getting the girl’s things together. Although he decided not to interfere, he wished she’d hurry up.
There was nothing for it but to curb his patience. He could see he’d made an initial impact. The girl was calmer now, even accepting.
‘Do you know how to scrub floors?’ he asked.
Lochranza loosened her grip on the headboard and frowned. ‘Of course not. You’ve just said yourself that I’m to be a lady!’
Perhaps it was the stuttering of the candle flame, but she thought one side of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile.
‘No. You will die or be sold into slavery.’
‘There is no slavery for white people. And soon there might not be for Africans either. Molly said so.’
Ah, he thought. She’s noticed that only black people are slaves. Not only that, but she’s heard tale of the abolitionists.
‘That is true,’ he said, nodding thoughtfully. ‘I dare say it will be abolished in the British dominions before ere long. However, it will still thrive in the Americas, in places like Georgia and suchlike. I’ve been there. I know,’ said O’Neill.
The child eyed him through narrowed eyes, her bottom lip quivering. ‘I don’t want to die.’
‘Then come with me.’
She eyed him thoughtfully as she considered what he was saying. ‘Will I be a lady?’
He shrugged again, his dark brows beetling in a slight frown. ‘You will be alive. And I dare say that one day you’ll be a lady.’
She stayed beneath the bedclothes and tried to envisage her future.
Finally, her head popped out. ‘Where are we going?’
‘England. We’re sailing to England.’
Molly shouted something from the other room. That was when O’Neill pounced.
The bedding muffled the child’s cries, and the candle was knocked over in the struggle. The child kicked and screamed, but O’Neill was big and Lochranza was small. Tucking the kicking, screaming bundle beneath his arm, he headed for the door.
‘I had no choice,’ he said when Molly appeared in the doorway and chastised him for treating the child like a bag of mealy meal. ‘She’s not keen on leaving.’
‘Never you mind. You could suffocate her like that.’
‘And she could kick me black and blue!’
Molly conceded that what was being done was for her charge’s own good.
‘There, Captain.’ She handed him a brown leather bag. ‘Everythin’ she’ll need. And all clean,’ she added, her last comment directed at Lochranza, her tired old eyes filling with tears.
O’Neill laid his free hand on her shoulder. ‘I understand how you must be feeling. You took care of her well. You’ve been a good and faithful servant to both the Kildare family and to England.’
Molly threw her apron over her face and blew her nose in it. ‘I knew this day would come and I weren’t goin’ to cry. But I can’t help it.’
‘Can’t be helped,’ he said in return, though he knew his words wouldn’t ease her pain. He had to be hard. He had no choice.
Lochranza continued to kick, her small fists pummelling any bit of his body she could reach.
‘Take care, Molly.’
‘Go,’ she said, waving her hand. ‘Go now. Before they comes…’
O’Neill’s heavy sea boots clumped down the stairs and out of the house. He didn’t want to counsel Molly that she’d be fine and that her life would continue as normal because he knew it wasn’t true. Molly would be the only one who knew where the child had gone and who had taken her away.
Outside, the wind was freshening. With a seaman’s knowledge, O’Neill sniffed the air and narrowed his eyes at the brooding sky.
Lightning speared through the low-hanging clouds, edging them with bands of pure white light.
Those ships that were able would already be in a safe haven or out at sea, far from dangerous rip tides, the wind and rocks.
Pulling his thoughts into some sort of order, he headed to where he’d tied the horse – only it wasn’t there. It was easy to guess what had happened. Scared by the gathering storm, it had bolted and headed for safety, perhaps even for home.
‘Joseph, Mary and Jesus,’ O’Neill swore, turning his face upwards to catch the first droplets of rain. ‘Where’s the bloody animal got to?’
Gritting his teeth, he headed for the cliff. Perhaps the frightened creature had fallen over. They were done for if that was the case.
What with the weather, the load and the bag he carried, he stumbled as he went. The grass was tall and the ground uneven with stones and roots. Progress was slow. The girl never let up on wriggling and kicking. He had no option but to put her down. ‘Will you promise to—’
Lochranza’s foot suddenly connected with his groin.
‘Christ!’ Momentarily, he crumpled to the ground, losing his grip on the struggling girl.
She ran through the tall grass, O’Neill shouting out behind her.
Lightning flooded the sky in one almighty flash. Suddenly, she saw O’Neill in one place; another flash and he appeared in a different location.
Under cover of darkness and the tall wild grass she cowered down, peering through the long, straggly stems. She thought she’d escaped him, but there he was.
He’d moved between flashes, and she had not run far enough.
His riding boots were there, right before her eyes.
If she leaned forward, she could touch them. Holding her breath, she cowered lower.
Suspecting she was close, O’Neill looked over the cliff to the beach below, the freshening wind scalding his face with its salty tang. The cove looked empty, the only movement the incessant toing and froing of mountainous surf, like lacy frills trimming the sand.
It was brief and ill defined, but suddenly he was sure he saw movement amongst the rocks where the sea grass was thickest. Another flash of lightning convinced him he was right.
There was movement. Tossing its head from side to side stood the horse.
It had found the path and headed down from the cliff, finding shelter between rocks twice as tall as a man.
O’Neill threw his head back, closed his eyes and gave thanks. ‘Hallelujah,’ he murmured, uncaring of the rain that dripped from his hair and his beard.
Another lightning flash. Another roll of thunder – and something else, not from the sea, but from somewhere behind him.