"I know," she said, hugging herself to keep warm. "And I have a lot to think about. I'm so sorry I slapped you."
"Don't be. I deserved it, for more reasons than you could possibly know," Courtland told her, and then turned on his heel and headed for the front staircase.
Cassandra watched until he'd disappeared around a turn in the hallway and then ran for her room, wondering if she would seem too much the spoiled child if she rang and asked someone to fetch her hot water for a tub.
In the end she decided that everyone else must have had the same sort of sleepless night she'd had, so she made do with cold water from the pitcher and then quickly dressed in her warmest gown, tying back her damp hair at her nape before she went in search of her papa, finding him in his study, leaning over the large table that was always covered with maps.
"Papa, good morning," she said, kissing his cheek. "You were out on the water."
"Yes, I most certainly was," he said, returning her kiss. "Do I still look giddy with the excitement? Jacko informed me that he might have to knock me down, in hopes that might remove the smile from my face. Ah, Cassandra, how I've missed being onboard my own ship. In command. Oh, and now you're frowning?"
Cassandra attempted a smile. "I'm sorry. It's just that…I think you men enjoy this sort of thing. Don't you? The danger?"
"I'd say that's what makes us men, Cassandra. The thrill of the chase, the prospect of a good fight at the end of that chase. But it's not that simple. For so many long years, we've wondered if the past might come back at us in some way. We hid here— I hid here. Waiting for the blade to fall is worse than having it fall, it would seem. Now, at last, there's a chance to put the past where it belongs, and move on with our lives, no longer captives of that past."
"What will happen now?"
Ainsley shook his head, dismissing her question. "There's no reason for you to worry about that, sweetheart."
"Papa," Cassandra said, her eyes pleading that he understand, "look at me. Please. I'm not a child anymore. I'm eighteen, the same age Mama was when you married her, brought her to the island. I know you want to protect me, but please don't try to keep me wrapped in cotton wool. This is my life, too. She was your wife, yes, but she was also my mother."
Ainsley put his arms around her, drew her tight against his chest, and she closed her eyes, fought back tears as he kissed her hair, her forehead. At last, he put her from him, his hands on her shoulders as he looked at her for a long time.
Then he sighed, suddenly looking very tired, and began to speak. "We're isolated here, which is good, in many ways, but also leaves us very much on our own, responsible for our own protection. Everyone seems to think Edmund will attack in force, and I have planned for that eventuality, as you know."
Cassandra nodded, her heart singing. She knew she wasn't going to like what he said, but she rejoiced inwardly that he was at last trusting her with the truth. "The defenses on the beach, in the marshes around the house and village. All the stores we've stockpiled, the plans for escape, if necessary."
"Exactly. It's what we'd expect from Edmund, after sailing with him for so many years. Quick, violent attack." He dropped his hands, sighed. "But time changes people, and his tactics may have changed, as well. We know now that he's been with Talleyrand in France, at the conferences of the Allies. He seems to work behind the scenes now, his actions more covert, not at all the Edmund I knew. The only thing that's certain, Cassandra, is that he is coming at us. Soon. You see, I still have something he wants. Something I believe he wants even more than he wanted the profits from our days as partners, even more than he wanted your mother."
Cassandra cocked her head to one side, unable to understand her father's words. She'd always believed, everyone had always believed, that Edmund Beales had coveted her mother, had decided that her father could leave the island, give up the life of a privateer, but that he, Beales, would retain possession of all they'd earned over the years, take possession of the beautiful Isabella as if both were somehow his by right.
"You're puzzled?" Ainsley said, smiling wanly. "You wish to be treated as an adult, Cassandra. I'm going to tell you something only Odette, Jacko and Billy know. I'm going to tell you about the Empress."
"A woman?"
"This will easier if I simply show you." Ainsley walked over to the map table, pushed the sliding stacks of maps away from the front edge and depressed something up beneath the tabletop. A small drawer opened, and Cassandra approached, fascinated.
"You'll feel the lever easily, once you know where it is. I'll teach you, later. For now, just look at this. Hold out your hand. Be careful, Cassandra, it's heavier than you'd imagine, but still fragile."
He reached inside the drawer and extracted a small leather bag tied at the top with a silken cord. He untied it, dumping the contents into Cassandra's palm.
"Oh, my!"
"Yes, oh, my. The Empress, Cassandra, probably the finest, largest emerald ever to come out of South America. We likened it, Edmund and I, to stories we'd heard about the Mogul Emerald first known about in the late Sixteenth Century. That particular emerald was inscribed on one side in some Islamic language, with a decorative carving on the other. The Empress is still just as it was taken from the ground. Rough, uncut, but probably larger than the Mogul Emerald. I'd been the one to find it, so it was kept on the island. We'd always divided everything equally, Cassandra, Edmund and I, but to cut this stone would be to halve its worth, or even worse. I hadn't told him, but I was going to give it to him the day Isabella and I sailed to England. As a sort of recompense to him for my being the one to dissolve our partnership."
Cassandra still couldn't take her gaze away from the stone that had to be more than ten centimeters high, and the sweet, beautiful color of spring grass. She shook her head slowly. "It's…it's beautiful. Isn't it?"
"In places, yes. In order to see its full beauty it would have to be carefully extracted from its less beautiful moorings. Edmund, as do many others, believes emeralds hold special powers and impart good luck and success to their owners. I disagree with him on that, considering what happened to all of us."
"Where…where did you find it?"
Ainsley took the stone from her and replaced it in the bag, closed the secret drawer once more. "In the usual way. We took it, as English privateers claiming a prize. We had no idea when we boarded the French ship that we'd find anything half so valuable, but there it was, waiting for us. Harvested in Colombia, on its way to France. By rights, it should have gone to the Crown, but Edmund convinced me to keep it, just for a while. Just…just to be able hold it, look at it. It? Not to Edmund. To Edmund the stone was a woman. The Empress. Looking back through the years, I realized that Edmund began to change then, become more secretive, often sitting quietly as if thinking deeply, making plans. And then I told him I thought the time was right to return to England with my family. That must have surprised him, forced him to act."
"Who would get the emerald? That's what he wondered, didn't he? Because he was already planning a way to have it for his own?"
"I'm certain of that now, yes. I only wish I could have known then, all those years ago."
"She's worth a fortune, isn't she? The Empress."
"In pounds sterling? Yes, a fortune, a very great fortune. But to Edmund? I think Edmund felt it was worth more than mere money. I think he believed— believes— the Empress is his promise of immortality or, failing that bit of ridiculousness, a good luck talisman that will guide his footsteps from one victory to another. Edmund is coming here for me, yes, but what he wants most is the Empress. If I thought I could trade that stone for our lives, I'd do it, find a way to do that. Unfortunately, that won't be enough for him, as he needs us all dead so that he can move in society without the same fears we have of being discovered, being branded pirates. Luck? That stone has been nothing but bad luck. Disaster. I nearly threw it into the sea as we left the island, except that Edmund would never believe I'd done such a thing. If anything happens to me, Cassandra— "
"Papa, please don't say things like that."
"Cassandra, don't interrupt me," Ainsley said almost sharply, and she lifted her chin, kept her silence. He was right. This was no time to do anything but listen. Later, she would cry.
"If…if I'm no longer here, Cassandra, and Edmund is still a danger to you, give the stone to Courtland. Explain that Edmund wants it, and trust him to do what's right, how to use it if he thinks he can…bargain with it, I suppose."
She nodded once more, unable to speak for the mingled fear and pride tightening her throat. Her papa was speaking to her, really speaking to her as a person and not just his child, for perhaps the first time in her life. And he was saying horrible, frightening things. "Court and I will decide, together. It's my right."
He smiled now, this handsome, solitary man she'd considered a near god for all of her life. "You're your mother's child, aren't you? All right, Cassandra. There is something else that worries me, and I think you'd be the best one to trust in the matter. I'm putting you in charge of Odette."
"Excuse me? Papa, we all know that no one is ever
in charge
of Odette. She's in charge of us. I want to help, not be shuffled off to do nothing."
"She's not well, Cassandra. Frankly, I believe she's only holding on for two reasons. Eleanor's child, and the chance to confront her twin, Loringa. Although I can't understand how Odette believes she can face down her sister, not as sick as she is. She's been ill for a long time now, and only told me to explain why she didn't, as she says it,
see
Rian and his troubles sooner."
Once again, Cassandra refused to think beyond the assignment her father had given her, trusted her to take on. She could not think about Odette as the woman who had raised her, told her stories about her mama, hugged her, scolded her, taught her— had been for so many years the linchpin that held the Beckets together. "What's wrong with her, Papa?"
"She won't say, at least she won't talk to me, only telling me that it is a discussion for women. Nobody else knows, Cassandra, and Odette would probably have my liver and lights if she knew I'd told you, so you'll have to be very careful not to fuss over her too much, let her know that you're aware she's not well."
"Yes, Papa, I'll be careful. But shouldn't Jack know, even if we don't tell Eleanor? With the baby coming, I mean."
Ainsley stepped behind his desk, sat down, looking up at Cassandra. "I don't know. Odette promises me she'll be fine, able to help Eleanor through her lying-in, and I've decided to believe her. I'm asking you to keep a close eye on her, help her where you can, and tell me if you think she's…well, you understand."
"If she's too sick," Cassandra said, and now a tear did escape, run down her cheek. "I can't believe this. Odette's just always…been there. A part of my life. And with her sister out there somewhere with Beales? What does she think she can do about that?"
"Another question I can't answer, sweetheart, and hope I never have to answer. Loringa is not the sort of woman we want to see here at Becket Hall. Odette's opposite in every way, save the fact that they look as alike as two peas in the same pod."
"The other side of the same coin, good and evil," Cassandra said, wiping at her cheeks. "And Dahomey, so they're both equally powerful in their Voodoo."
"Loringa once killed a woman," Ainsley told her as he picked up a letter opener, balanced it between his fingers. "She
willed
her to death for coveting Edmund. I wouldn't have given such a spell or curse any credence if I hadn't seen it, but when someone believes in the power of the Voodoo, these things can happen. And Odette, quite naturally, believes in the power of the Voodoo, the power of both the good and the bad
loas.
If Loringa comes after her, if she's strong, Odette will not be able to stand against her. Don't let her leave Becket Hall, Cassandra, not even to go to the village, not until this is over."
"And it will be over soon, Papa. Beales will make his move, as Courtland calls it, very soon."
At last, Ainsley smiled. "And if Courtland says it, then it must be true? You looked very beautiful last night, Cassandra. The picture of your mother. I was, and am, quite proud, although I think I'm feeling very old, knowing that my daughter is now of a marriageable age."
Cassandra felt her cheeks growing hot. "He thinks I'm a child, and I sometimes think he's right. But that's going to change, Papa. May I…may I have your blessing?"
"If I could," Ainsley said, "I would send you back to the nursery, never to grow up, never to leave your selfish papa. But that isn't possible. Of course you have my blessing. But more, Cassandra, you have my confidence that you know your own mind, and your own heart."
"I do, Papa," Cassandra said earnestly. "I've always known."
"So has Courtland," Ainsley said quietly. "Unfortunately, sweetheart, he often confuses his heart with what he believes to be his responsibility. Let's get this nightmare of Edmund Beales and the past behind us, and then I think I'd very much enjoy watching you teach him the difference."
