Beloved Castaway (32 page)

“No,” he responded, “perhaps not, but I am, and I’ll not allow it to happen again. Perhaps the next time we meet, you should be the one to find me.”

“But how shall I find you?”

“You managed it once; you can manage it again, I. M. Gayarre.”

Swift as a jungle cat, he stalked to the exit and disappeared between the velvet curtains, leaving Isabelle to wonder whether she ought to be relieved or disappointed.

---

“How did you find her, Captain?”
 

Josiah turned to see Viola Dumont standing in the foyer, an apron covering a dress more suited for the theater than the sickroom. “I found her quite, well,
interesting
.”
 

“I see.” She looked down at her gown, then back at Josiah. “My wardrobe is limited and, well, after cleaning, I—”

He held his hands up to stop her. “There’s no need to explain. I wonder, however, about Emilie. Perhaps I should fetch William.”

“No, don’t do that.” She smiled. “That boy has done wonders for Emilie. The Lord gifted her with the ability to teach, but other than working with Isabelle, she’s never done anything with her talents.”

“Working with Isabelle?”

Viola nodded. “It’s my understanding Emilie spent the last year tutoring Isabelle.”

Until then, he hadn’t thought of what Isabelle’s life must have been like before the day she appeared on the dock. Perhaps he hadn’t wanted to.

Perhaps he knew he couldn’t abide the details.

Details. Yes, the letters. He thrust the bloodstained pages toward Viola. “I could not broach the subject of the late Monsieur Gayarre with her for several reasons, not the least of which was the laudanum. I think it better that you choose the proper moment to bestow these on the ladies.”

She took the letters and tucked them into her apron. “Perhaps a bit of time should pass before either of them is ready to read these.”

“Perhaps.” He cast a glance at the floor that only a short while ago had been stained by Andre Gayarre’s blood. “I should go and see to William.”

Viola studied the ground a moment. “Did you know Andre Gayarre or his father, Captain?”

What an odd question. “I did not.”

“No,” she said slowly, “I don’t suppose you would.”

He studied Viola a moment. “I wonder if you might remind Isabelle of something I’ve told her today.”

The change of topic seemed to bring some measure of relief to Viola. “Of course.”

“I won’t be returning to visit her here. The laudanum makes
proper conversation impossible.”

Viola worried with the pocket of her apron. “Does she know this?”

“I told her, but I wager she’ll not remember.” He paused. “When
her mind is clear, I would like it very much if she would seek me
out.”

She nodded. “I will tell her. When her mind is clear.”

“Thank you,” he said as he made haste to leave the infirmary before his resolve crumbled.
 

Isabelle’s words chased him all the way back to the boardinghouse.

I would have a kiss.

Perhaps I am under the influence of some sort of truth serum.

He picked up his pace lest he turn and run back to her side.

---

Isabelle must have slept, for when she opened her eyes, the lamps were burning and the curtains had been closed. She stretched and leaned forward on her elbows. The dizziness was gone, ravenous hunger taking its place.

Vague and splintered thoughts of Josiah Carter tried to form, each fading to nothingness before it could be reached. Had he paid her a visit?

Something about thunder seemed important as did the offer of a kiss. She shook her head as if the motion might dislodge the cobwebs binding her thoughts.

The curtains parted, and Emilie stepped inside with her dinner tray. “You’re awake,” she said.

Odd that Emilie would be the one to see to her this evening. “Where’s Viola?”

The tray in her hands wobbled a bit, and Emilie slowed her
pace until the dishes were back in place. “I sent her off to enjoy her evening.”
 

“I see.” Isabelle watched her take great care to place the tray on the desk. Even in the shadowed room, Isabelle could see something was terribly wrong with Emilie.
 

She reached out to catch her sister’s hand. “You’ve been crying.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Isabelle.” Emilie’s backbone went stiff, her face suddenly stern. “The doctor says you’re making excellent progress. There seems to be no more water in your lungs, and the other injuries you suffered are all healing nicely. We’re all very grateful the Lord has spared your life.”
 

“In truth, I do feel quite well.”
 

Isabelle watched Emilie set the tray on the desk, then endured her sister’s brisk plumping of pillows and adjustment of bed coverings. What Emilie lacked in nursing skills, she made up for in enthusiasm. Finally, she placed the tray before Isabelle.
 

“Thank you,” Isabelle said. “Won’t you sit with me awhile?” She looked down at the tray, the platters overflowing. “Oh my, this is much more than I can ever eat. Do join me.”

When Emilie did not respond, Isabelle nudged her. “A penny for your thoughts, Emilie.”

A penny for your thoughts.

Had someone said that to her recently? Josiah, perhaps? When Viola returned, she would ask if the captain had yet been to visit.

She sighed. No use in asking anyone. Early on, she’d learned that all who came into her sickroom must have pledged to remain silent on the topic of Josiah Carter.

Emilie shook her head. “The doctor insists you finish your meal without help, dear, and don’t forget to take your medication. You have your health to consider, and I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you.”

Once again, Emilie looked as if she were about to cry as she handed Isabelle an embroidered napkin. “Now do enjoy your food. If you like, I can read from the newspaper while you dine.”

“Yes, please.”
 

Feeling more like a dutiful child than an adult, Isabelle complied, although she refused to take even a sip of the awful medicine. When she could eat no more, Isabelle set the napkin across the tray and waited until her sister finished reading a story from the monthly newspaper about the president’s latest battle with Congress.

“Do take your medication, dear,” Emilie said.

Isabelle reached for the cup and held it to her lips. “Would you continue reading, please?”

Suspicion showed on Emilie’s face as she lifted the paper. With Emilie hidden behind the paper, Isabelle quickly poured the laudanum over the remains of her dinner, then replaced the napkin.

“Might I interrupt you, Emilie?”

The paper crinkled as it lowered. “Of course.”

Affecting an innocent expression, Isabelle gestured to the tray. “Might I ask you to remove this? I’m afraid I’m done.”

Emilie glared at the half-eaten food and, for a moment, Isabelle thought she might investigate the soggy mess further. “Does Viola require you to finish everything?”

“Oh no,” she said quickly.

“I see.” She stared another moment as if trying to detect any guile on Isabelle’s part, then removed the tray. When she returned, she picked up the paper, stifling a yawn.

“You’re tired,” Isabelle said. “I assure you I would not be offended if you were to retire early.”

Her sister almost looked grateful. Almost, but not quite.

“No, I must discharge my duties as caretaker to you, Isabelle.” Hiding her yawn behind the newspaper, she quickly recovered to shake her head. “I’ve given Viola my word.”

“And what of William?”

Emilie lowered the paper and peered down her nose at Isabelle. “He is in the care of Mrs. Campbell for the evening.”

“I see.” Isabelle settled against the pillows and listened to a story on the upcoming birthday of Fairweather Key’s eldest citizen, the launch of a new vessel into Fairweather Harbor, and finally, the arrival and departure list of vessels for the month of May.

The departure list of vessels for the month of May.

“Emilie, excuse me, but would you mind terribly reading that last sentence again?”

Her sister sighed. “The paper stated the
Amberjack
is to arrive with its monthly load of supplies and will set forth for Key West and ports east on 5 May.”

Isabelle’s mind began to reel with the possibilities this vessel’s departure might bring. “What day is this?”

“May 2,” she said. “Why?”

“No reason.” Isabelle threw back the quilt and stretched her legs. “I wonder if I might have a bath.”

“A bath?” Dark brows rose. “Are you daft, Isabelle?”

“No,” she said, “I’m perfectly sane and desperately in need of a hot soak.” She paused. “I’m certain it would help speed my recovery.”

“Are you now?” She folded the paper. “Isabelle, I’m no fool. What are you planning?”

“I am planning a long bath.” Isabelle folded her legs beneath her and leaned toward Emilie. “I’m well, Emilie. I assure you I have no more need of bed rest or that vile laudanum. In fact, I submit I might have been up and around weeks ago had I not been medicated thus.”

Emile rose and set the paper down. “You didn’t take the laudanum as instructed, did you?”

Isabelle swung her legs over the side of the bed and tested her ability to stand. After a moment, she succeeded. “No, I did not, and forgive my impertinence, but I do not intend to take another dose.”

“But your lungs, your hysterics.” She sighed. “You do look fine, dear, except that perhaps you seem a bit pale.”

“As do you,” Isabelle said. “Might I speak in confidence?”

“Yes,” she said. “Please do.”

“I recall little of today.” Isabelle shrugged. “Actually I recall little that has happened since I left the captain’s quarters aboard the
Jude
.”

A shocked expression crossed Emilie’s face. “You were in the captain’s quarters? Isabelle, I thought we discussed the fact that once you left New Orleans you—”

“Emilie, do hold your tongue.” She paused. “Were time not of the essence, I might be offended. However, I know you only want the best for me, so please understand that you have no need to worry.”

“I believe you,” she said slowly.

“Did anything of great import happen while I was under the influence of the doctor’s concoction?”

She seemed to consider the question a moment. “Nothing I wish to discuss tonight. Perhaps tomorrow I can speak of it. You did have a visit from Captain Carter.”

So her memory hadn’t completely failed her.

“I see.” Isabelle said. “Good. Now, I must depend on your help. Might I call on you to purchase passage on the
Amberjack
for William and me? I assure you I will see the boy safely to school before making my journey to Clapham.”

“But dear, that vessel leaves three days hence.”

“Exactly.” Isabelle held tight to the bedpost and nodded. “All the more reason I will need your help.”

“I won’t help you,” Emilie said. “I cannot lose another sibling. Not today.”

“What are you talking about?” Isabelle shook her head. “Wait, your brother? Has something happened?”

Emilie nodded and between sobs shared the story of Andre Gayarre’s demise. “So you see, this is not the day to tell me you’re leaving. Not with my only brother awaiting burial.”

Isabelle wiped away her tears and stepped carefully toward her sister, gathering her into an embrace. For a moment, they cried together.

“Come with me,” Isabelle said when she could manage it. “You’ve nothing tying you to this place, and going home to New Orleans seems out of the question now. When you and Viola arrived on the dock together, I assumed the plan was for the three of us to escape together.”

“Actually, there was no plan.” Emilie sighed. “Andre and Vi were to have been married that day. I was to have accompanied Vi to the church, but Andre arrived. He was not a man to be denied his wishes.” She paused and looked as if she were reliving the moment. “He is—was—a violent man.”

“Why did he come here?”

“Somehow he learned Vi’s whereabouts. I assume he wanted to exact revenge.” Emilie shivered. “He was always very careful to exact his revenge.”

Did she misunderstand, or did Emilie’s statement go beyond any association with Viola Dumont? “Emilie?” She looked up. “Is there more?”

“More?” Emilie squared her shoulders. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It just seems as though a man like that would, well, never mind.” She looked away. “Perhaps he came to fetch me home. Or to exact revenge for my being taken from your father.”

“Our father, Isabelle.”

“Our father,” she repeated.

“Let me think on it. Tonight I must write to Father, and I have no idea what I’ll say. I’ll leave anything else, including my future plans, for another day.”

“There’s time,” Isabelle said, “but not an overabundance of it.”

“True.” She stepped out of the embrace. “What of the captain? I understood there was something between you.”

“I think there might have been, but I cannot hold him to it now.”
 

“Cannot or will not?” Emilie shook her head. “The two are not the same.”

“I will not cause him to suffer the consequences that an association with me would bring upon him.” She paused. “And upon his family.”

“Whatever are you talking about?”

“I was born a slave, Emilie. A slave.” Her voice caught, and she paused. “Property to another. By law, a man cannot marry property.”
 

“No one on Fairweather Key treats you like property.” She reached over to touch Isabelle’s sleeve. “You could easily live out your days here without anyone suspecting. I don’t think I’m speaking out of turn here to say that it certainly doesn’t seem to be an impediment to the captain’s affections.”

“I’ve considered that, although I’m ashamed to admit it,” she said. “Prayed about it, actually. I just cannot imagine living a lie, and I don’t think the Lord would bless that. Do you?”

“So you will leave him without giving him a choice in the matter?” Emile sighed. “That seems a bit unfair, don’t you think?”