A Pirate's Love (2 page)

E
arly in the evening, Jossel Verlaine came to Bettina's bedroom to talk to her daughter privately. She was still upset.

“I tried,
ma chérie
. I tried endlessly to dissuade your papa from sending you to that—that man.” Jossel spoke nervously, wringing her hands, which she always did when she was disturbed.

“It's all right, Mama. I was upset at first, but only because I must go so far away. I expected to have my marriage arranged, so the betrothal came as no surprise.”

“Well, it came as a surprise to me! André has been arranging it for months, but only last night did he think to inform me of it. Once he made his choice, he acted on it. He did not take into consideration that he is sending you to a man you have never met, and also forcing you to cope with a new land and climate at the same time.” Jossel usually said what was on her mind, at least to Bettina, but she started to pace the room and seemed quite at a loss for words.

“Is there something you wish to tell me, Mama?” Bettina ventured.

“Yes, yes, there is,” Jossel answered in heavily accented English.

Papa and Mama both liked to speak English, since many of Papa's associates were Englishmen. And since Bettina had also learned that crude language at the convent, Papa insisted that English be used at all times.

Jossel was still hesitating, so Bettina tried to break the silence. “I will miss you terribly when I leave next month, Mama. Will I ever see you again?” she asked hopefully.

“Of course, you will, Bettina. If your new”—she paused, hating to say the word—“new husband does not bring you here for a visit, then I will persuade André to go to Saint Martin.” Jossel looked at her daughter with deep concern in her dark-green eyes, “Oh, my little Bettina, I am so sorry that your papa has insisted on this betrothal to Comte de Lambert. I wanted you to pick your own husband. If only André had allowed me to take you to Paris, you might have found a man you could love, a worthy man André might have approved of. There are so many to choose from in Paris.”

“Comte de Lambert is a worthy man, is he not?” Bettina asked.

“Yes, but you have never met him, Bettina. You don't know if you will love him or not. You don't know if you will be happy or not. And that is all I want, for you to be happy.”

“But Papa has chosen Comte de Lambert, and he wants me for his wife. He has seen me, hasn't he?”

“Yes, a year ago. You were in the garden when the
comte
called on André. But Bettina, you are a lovely child, lovely beyond belief. You could have had your choice of husbands, and found a man that
you would want to spend your life with. But your papa is too fond of tradition. It would not do but that
he
choose your husband. It doesn't matter to him if you are happy or not.”

“But that is the way it is, Mama. I did not expect it to be otherwise,” Bettina replied, though wondering why it couldn't.

“You are such a good and trusting daughter, and it grieves me to think that you might spend your life with a man you do not love. It is because of this that I came in here to tell you something, even though it is against my better judgment.”

“What is it, Mama?”

“You know that André was chosen for me by my Papa when I was only fourteen years old. I was, as you are, ready to love my chosen husband and to be a good wife. But after one year of marriage I knew it could never be. After another year, the situation became worse, for André wanted a son and I had not yet conceived. I was desolate, and I had only Madeleine to confide in and love. But she could not protect me from André's furious outbursts.

“So I began to take long walks and make trips into town, just to seek peace. On one of my walks I met a sailor, an Irishman with fiery red hair and dancing green eyes. His ship was docked on the coast for repairs, and he had taken leave to visit his parents, who had left Ireland and were then living in the country near Mortagne. I chanced to meet him when he passed through Argentan. He stayed here instead of going on to Mortagne, and I met him again and again until we became—lovers.”

“Oh, Mama, it sounds so romantic!”

Jossel smiled, relieved that her daughter was not shocked by her confession. “Yes, it was romantic.
Ryan stayed in Argentan for three months, and I met him regularly. Those were the happiest months of my life, and I shall always treasure the memory of them. I loved him with all my heart, and he lives on in you, Bettina, because you came from the love I shared with Ryan. He was your real father.”

“Then Papa—he is my stepfather?”

“Yes,
ma chérie
, only your stepfather. I wanted you to know about the happiness I was able to steal those many years ago, the only love that I ever had. I wanted you to know in case you don't love Comte de Lambert. I pray that you will, but if you don't, then I pray that you will find someone you can love, if only for a little while. I want you to be happy, Bettina, and if you should find yourself in a loveless marriage, I don't want you to feel guilty if you should find love elsewhere. I am not saying that you should go out and look for it. But if love should come to you as it did to me, take it while you can and be happy. I only want you to be happy.”

Jossel started crying, and Bettina went to her and embraced her tenderly.

“Thank you, Mama. Thank you for telling me. I do not feel so afraid of going to Saint Martin now. I will try to make it a good marriage, and I will try to love Comte de Lambert. Who knows, I may not have to try. It may come naturally.”

“Oh, I pray it does,
ma chérie
.”

Bettina stood back and smiled warmly at her mother. “So I am half-Irish. Does Papa—does André know? Is that why he never showed me love?”

“You must understand, Bettina, that André is not a demonstrative man. He believes you are his daughter, but he wanted a son badly. And the doctors said I could have only the one child because there were
problems with your birth. He may have resented you because you were not the son he wanted, but in his way he loves you. It is unfortunate that he doesn't show it, and I know he has made you unhappy.”

“I've spent most of my life trying to win André's approval, and he is not my real father.” Bettina mused. “I sought love from the wrong man.”

“I'm sorry, Bettina. I guess I should have told you the truth when you were little, but I couldn't. It is not an easy thing to admit. But you must continue to call André papa. I was deathly afraid at the time that you might be born with Ryan's flaming red hair. But luckily you have my white-blond hair and my papa's changeable eyes. Of course, those eyes of yours can be a hindrance to you. You cannot hide your feelings with those clear, dark eyes. As they are now, dark blue, I can tell that you are happy.”

“You are teasing me!”

“No,
ma chérie
. Even now your eyes are turning dark green.” Jossel laughed. “I know it must be unsettling to learn that you can't hide your feelings, but your eyes always show the truth.”

“But why haven't I ever noticed this? I always thought my eyes were blue.”

“Because when you are angry or upset, you would hardly look at yourself in a mirror. You do as your real father did. You pace the floor; you cannot sit still. You inherited many things from Ryan.”

“I've always wondered why I am taller than both you and André. Was your Ryan a tall man?”

“Yes, very tall. He was such a handsome young man! But he had a quick temper and an unrelenting Irish stubbornness, just like you. But do not worry about your eyes,
ma chérie
. Not many people notice such things, and you can always say your eyes
change with the light, as a fire opal does.”

“Why didn't you go away with him, Mama? Why did you stay here and give up your happiness?”

“Ryan had to go back to his ship, and I could not go aboard with him, especially since I already knew that I was carrying you. Ryan was just a common sailor, though this mattered little to me, but he wanted to make his fortune before he took me away. He promised to come back for me, and I waited many years before I gave up hope. I don't like to think why he didn't come back. I would rather think that he found a new love in another land than that he might be dead.”

Bettina was sad to think that her mother would probably never learn the real reason. “Did he know about me?”

“Yes. I just wish that he could have seen what a lovely child he sired.”

Later, after Jossel went to bed, Bettina sat before her dressing table looking at herself in the mirror. She wondered why Comte de Lambert had chosen her as his wife. She supposed she was pretty in a way, but she didn't think she was as beautiful as her mother fondly said. She had a nose that curved slightly at the tip, an oval face, but she felt that her forehead was not high enough. Her pale skin was smooth, without a blemish, but her thick flaxen hair was straight, not fashionably curly, and she hated it.

She stood out oddly among the girls at school, who teased her for her different appearance. At five feet, six inches, she towered over the petite French girls. And instead of having full breasts and soft, round curves, she was very slim. Her breasts were nicely shaped and not too small, so she didn't find much fault there. It was her hips that she cursed.
They were slim—too slim, in fact—and her long legs didn't help matters. Her tiny waist added a slight curve to her hips, but it annoyed her that she had to pad her skirts in that area. She liked to hear her mama call her beautiful, even though she knew it wasn't true. It was only through Mama's eyes that she was beautiful, because Mama loved her. She would miss Mama so.

Her mother's revelation hadn't really disturbed Bettina. In a way, it seemed that a great burden had been lifted from her. She was a—she had heard the servants use the word and knew what it meant—she was a bastard. But what did it matter? No one knew about it except her mother. Bettina wished that Ryan had come back for her mother. And now she, too, wondered what had happened to him. Could he have been shipwrecked, or killed? Or was he still roaming the seas in search of a fortune to bring back to Mama? She liked the last explanation best. He could still come back for Mama after all these years, and they could come and live on Saint Martin with her.

“Oh, Bettina, you dream too much,” she whispered aloud. “I must face reality. I am going to go to a stranger and live with him and be his dutiful wife. Well, maybe not so dutiful.” She laughed. “But I will be his wife and I—I don't even know what he looks like. He could be fat and short, or old. I must remember to ask Mama what he looks like. Maybe he will be young and handsome. Yes, and he did want me. I must remember that.”

She yawned, then looked once more at her clear blue eyes in the mirror, eyes as dark as sapphires.

“Mama must have been teasing me. How can anyone's eyes change color?”

Bettina stood up and walked to the large four-
poster bed with its frilly pink-and-white canopy. She crawled under the covers and tossed her long, unbound hair over the side of the bed, where it flowed to the floor. With so many things going through her mind, it was a long time before she finally went to sleep.

“W
ake up. Wake up, Bettina.”

Bettina opened her eyes quickly at the sound of her mother's voice, but then remembered regretfully what day this was. Today she would leave her home forever.

“I told those silly maids to wake you early this morning,” Jossel continued. “But I should have known they wouldn't pay attention to me. This whole house has been in such confusion this last month, preparing for your journey. It is a wonder anything gets done. The servants are so excited you would think they were going with you. And oh, how they envy Madeleine. I am going to miss that bossy old woman. She has been more like a mother to me than my own, but you need her now more than I do.” She paused and looked at her daughter, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “Oh, Bettina, this month has gone by too quickly. You are finally leaving me to start a life of your own.”

“But you said it will not be forever, Mama,” Bettina replied, edging her long, slender legs over the side of the bed.

“Yes, but that does not help the fact that you are leaving today.”

“Maddy and I still have to travel to Saint-Malo, where the ship is, and you and Papa will come with us that far. You knew this day would come, Mama.”

“Oh, why did André have to choose a man who lives across the sea?” Jossel asked, wringing her hands. Then she shook her head in resignation. “Well, it is done. Now you must prepare, for we leave in two hours' time. Oh, where are those maids?”

Bettina laughed. “They are probably in the kitchen discussing my journey. They seem to think Saint Martin is going to be an exciting place to live. But I can dress myself, anyway. You forget I did without servants all those years at school.”

The maids finally came, and after receiving a tongue-lashing from Jossel, they rushed about the large bedroom, laying out the clothes that Bettina would wear for the journey to Saint-Malo. One of the maids left the room to get water for Bettina's bath, and for the next two hours everybody scurried about, seeing to the last details.

Soon, Bettina and Madeleine were ready to go, wearing comfortably warm traveling clothes, for it was October and the weather was quite chilly this early morning. Mama joined them at the entrance, and, surprisingly, it was André who was the last to arrive.

The large coach that André had purchased especially for the journey to Saint-Malo was impressive indeed. It was drawn by six coal-black horses and was large enough to carry all the trunks on top, including the small chest that contained Bettina's dowry in gold.

Bettina leaned back on the velvet seat, with her mother beside her, and closed her eyes. The past
month had been hectic, and she and most of the household had worked day and night on her trousseau. Her wedding dress had taken the longest time to make, of course, but it was a beautiful garment, a masterpiece, and all who had worked on it were proud of the results.

The dress was creamy white satin, the same color as Bettina's hair, covered with handmade lace, except for the tight-fitting sleeves. Flowing lace sleeves fell away from the shimmering satin ones. It was a beautiful gown, caught tight about the waist, with a square neckline and flowing skirt, the lace divided in the front of the skirt to reveal the satin beneath. Bettina would wear white satin slippers with the dress, and the white pearls André had given her on her nineteenth birthday. Her veil, yards of white lace, had been worn by her mother on her own wedding day.

Madeleine had personally supervised the packing of the wedding dress in a separate trunk so it would not wrinkle too badly. She felt she was reliving the past, for twenty-two years before she'd gone through the same preparations for Jossel's marriage.

 

The small three-masted vessel lay at anchor for many days, waiting for the passengers who would sail to Saint Martin. Jacques Marivaux, captain of the
Windsong
, stood on the foredeck, a frown on his bronzed, weather-beaten face as he gazed out into the harbor. He was uneasy.

The Comte de Lambert had commissioned Jacques to go to France, pick up his intended bride and her servant, and take them back to Saint Martin. When de Lambert had first approached him, Jacques had been ready to resign from the
comte
's service
rather than transport women. But de Lambert had made too tempting an offer.

This young woman must mean a great deal to the
comte
. But still, there were numerous difficulties involved. Jacques would have to isolate the women from his rough, randy crew. Also, women were supposed to be bad luck on board ship, and the superstitious would blame every mishap on them. The women themselves would expect to be pampered, with fine food and comfortable quarters. Jacques knew this was going to be the worst voyage of his twenty years at sea.

Luckily, they had been at Saint-Malo for a week, and his crew had been let loose on the town since they first docked. They should have had their fill of women to last them awhile. But during the last month at sea he would have to worry about mutiny.

Then Jacques saw a large carriage turn off a side street and rumble onto the dock. That must be the bride and her family, he thought apprehensively, seeing the many trunks piled on top. He would have to round up his crew tonight and set sail tomorrow, if the wind permitted.
Mon Dieu!
Why had he taken this commission?

 

Bettina looked out the small carriage window and saw the many ships at anchor in the harbor. There were so many vessels, all of different sizes, that she wondered which one could be the
Windsong
. André had said it was a small three-masted vessel, but there were many that fit that description. She would have to learn more about ships, since the
comte
owned many vessels, the
Windsong
only one of them.

The carriage pulled to a halt, and André got out and asked a passing sailor where the
Windsong
was
anchored. As it turned out, they were right in front of her. André went up the gangplank and spoke with a big man standing on deck. After a few minutes, he came back and entered the carriage again.

“The
capitaine
has to get his crew together, so we will take lodgings for this night. The trunks will be unloaded and put aboard now, so there will be a short delay here.”

André was being generous, for usually he didn't waste his time explaining anything to his family.

The inn where they took lodgings was fairly decent. Bettina had a small room to herself, and she enjoyed her last bath that night. Jossel had told her that, unfortunately, she would not be able to bathe properly for the duration of the voyage. So Bettina soaked in fragrant suds for two hours.

The following morning, before the sun had risen above the horizon, the captain of the
Windsong
called on Bettina personally. André quickly introduced Captain Jacques Marivaux to his daughter, and they hurriedly left for the ship.

Bettina cried, as she'd known she would, and so did Madeleine and Jossel when they said good-bye to each other. Bettina also kissed André lightly on the cheek, though he seemed embarrassed. But he was, after all, the only father she had ever known, and she couldn't help loving him, despite his strictness. It would have been nice, though, if André could have said he loved her, just this once.

So she said good-bye to André Verlaine, a small man who would never again cause her heartache. But she couldn't bear to leave her mother, and it took an impatient Captain Marivaux to separate them. He hurried them, for the ship had to clear the
harbor in order to catch the morning breeze that would take her out to sea.

With a last tearful glance at her mother and her beloved France, Bettina turned and walked carefully up the gangplank. All eyes on board the ship were drawn to her. There had been no time this morning to bind her hair up, so she had just tied it back with ribbons. The snowy blond tresses streaming down her back were a sight to behold as the sun caught and lit her hair to blinding brilliance.

It was a moment of anxiety for Captain Marivaux as his crew stared hypnotized at Bettina. He had not expected Comte de Lambert's intended bride to be such a beauty.
Mon Dieu
, but the
comte
was an extremely lucky man.

Captain Marivaux barked orders left and right, and reluctantly the crew dispersed. However, many still ogled the women, so the captain quickly escorted them to his cabin and left them there. He was giving up his cabin for the remainder of the voyage because it was the largest on the ship and Comte de Lambert had insisted his bride be made comfortable. The arrangement was hardly satisfactory, but it would have to do.

Besides the women, he was also transporting a fortune in gold that was Mademoiselle Verlaine's dowry. Why Monsieur Verlaine thought he needed to send so much gold was beyond Jacques. The beautiful
mademoiselle
was all the prize any man could want. She did not need a fortune to go with her.

The gold that Jacques Marivaux was carrying might make any man turn pirate. The
mademoiselle
alone was temptation enough. But the captain had given his word, and it was a matter of honor. He would see the
mademoiselle
safely to Comte de Lambert or die trying.