For Her Love (24 page)

“Ah!
Bonjour
! You are the
capitaine
of this vessel?” the man asked in a heavy French accent.

“Aye. Giles Courtney,” he said, extending his hand.

The man shook it delicately. “I understand that you are bound for Port Royal. Is this not true?”

“Aye. On the morrow.”

“
Oui
! This is very good. I need to buy passage there. I wish to visit family in Jamaica.”

Giles smiled at him. A little money on the way back was a good thing. “I can get you there,” he assured the man.

“
Merci
. Permit me to introduce myself. I am Jacques Renault of Port de Paix. My father is a slave trader in Saint-Domingue, and I came here to do a bit of business for him. Then I think to myself, as long as I am packed and making this journey, it has been too long since I have seen my sister in Jamaica.”

“Is she in Port Royal?” Giles asked. He didn’t think this man would have a sister who was a prostitute, but ‘twas a sure bet she wasn’t a laundress either. A merchant’s wife, possibly.

“
Non
. She lives on a plantation quite far from there.”

“What plantation? Mayhap I can drop you there and save you the trouble of finding another ride.”

“You are very kind, but I thought I would like to stay in Port Royal, first. There is more entertainment there than in Saint-Domingue.
N’est pas
?” He gave Giles an unscrupulous grin.

Giles chuckled. “Aye, there’s plenty of entertainment in Port Royal.”

“
C’est bon
! After a few days there, I will travel on to Welbourne.”

“Welbourne! Your sister is Iolanthe Welbourne?”

“
Oui
! You know her?”

Giles smile broadened. “We are in-laws, you and I. I only just wed your niece, Grace.”

“
Quelle coïncidence
! Iolanthe wrote that Grace had married a merchant captain, but I do not recall whether she mentioned his name. Giles Courtney!
Félicitations
! Our Grace, such a beautiful girl,
oui
? But so sad,
non
? Perhaps you will finally make her happy.

“And now, I will arrange to have my trunks sent here, and I will join you on the morrow.
Au revoir, Capitaine
!”

Giles stared after him. Grace’s uncle. Of all people to land in his lap just now. What might he know of Grace’s past, and how might Giles ask without seeming to question Grace’s virtue?

*

Morning dawned, soft and gray, and Giles hadn’t slept well. He was on deck at first light, longing to order his men into the rigging to unfurl the sails. He would have preferred that Jacques Renault had stayed on board ship the previous night, for he didn’t want to have to wait for him. He wanted to get back to Port Royal and see whether or not Grace was still there. And what if she wasn’t? He had told her that she could leave after three days, but he wasn’t at all prepared to let her walk out of his life. Especially not to return to Welbourne forever. Besides, if this Jacques fellow could give him any insight, then he would surely feel compelled to use that information to try again.

He watched the dock come slowly to life. Geoff had sailed the previous afternoon, and a number of other ships had slipped away at first light. Two new vessels were seeking safe harbor and a group of men watched them from the dock through a spyglass. Ere the sky could change from gray to rose, Jacques strolled from a dockside inn and waved. Giles smiled and waved back. Renault was prompt. That reflected well upon a man where Giles was concerned.

After brief greetings were exchanged, Giles had a crewman show their passenger to his quarters where his trunks awaited his arrival. Again with Jawara’s competent assistance, the rigging was crawling with men who unleashed billowing clouds of canvass that caught the wind and snapped taut and round. The sun broke over the horizon, gilding the first blush of daybreak, but the golden hue didn’t last long either. The sky changed quickly to azure and would stay that way unless an afternoon rain swept in.

In these waters, any man on watch was charged with a serious duty and had to be vigilant. The first part of the journey would keep them between Hispaniola and Cuba, and although
Reliance
was only a merchant vessel, things were tense between any Spanish and English crafts that might meet on the Caribbean Sea. If possible, they would avoid Spanish ships, in general.

Giles had the helm. By mid-morning he had given up his jacket, but he kept his shirt and boots on, unlike most of the other sailors. Jawara and another Negro hung carelessly in the rigging above deck, ebony torsos and lower legs bare, chatting and signing with their hands, their elbows crooked around hemp ropes. Most of these gestures were viewed from the corners of their eyes. Chiefly, they watched the water, extra eyes to help a third Black in the crow’s nest. They were not all from the same tribe and did not speak the same language, but they had managed to come up with this combination of speech and gesture and were able to communicate. They made little attempt to talk to the Whites on the crew, nor did the Whites speak much to them, unless it was to communicate an order. The Africans quickly learned the English words they needed to know to do their jobs, and they did those jobs well. The grim possibility of slavery made them some of the hardest working men on any ship. Giles shook his head. Yet another advantage he had gained from the institution, whether he had asked for it or not.

“How do you do it?” Jacques’s liquid voice interrupted Giles thoughts.

“Do what?” Giles asked, glancing over at his fashionable passenger.

“Keep your slaves so obedient without appearing to break them? Most have to be kept under constant threat of the lash or they are useless.”

Giles gaze turned icy gray, but Jacques’s eyes were fixed on the rigging above.

“I find that a little respect goes a long way toward obtaining any man’s loyalty. That, along with the fact that they are not slaves, seems to be sufficient.”

“Ah,” Jacques said, his eyes alight. “No wonder Grace chose you. I am sure that I do not need to tell you how Grace feels about slavery.”

“Nay. I am well aware of it.”

“Remarkable,
n’est pas
?”

“Not really. One has only to look at how very much she loves her maid to see where her aversion to slavery comes from.”

“
Oui
,” Jacques agreed. “Of course, I always thought that Iolanthe should have separated the two when Grace was old enough to do without a nurse. Especially considering...” He trailed off with a guilty look, as though he had said more than he intended.

“Considering what?” Giles demanded.

“Nothing. She is a planter’s daughter, that is all.” He gave Giles a quick sideways glance.

Giles’s heart began to beat a little faster. Jacques knew something, something he was being cautious not to tell. He seemed much like Edmund in that regard, only even less adroit at covering it. Giles looked back out to sea and kept his demeanor casual.

“Aye, she is a planter’s daughter. But what of Matu? Why did you think that they should be separated?”

“Personally, I never thought that she could be trusted.”

“Why not?”

Jacques’s eyes followed Giles’s out to the horizon. “It is hard to say. A feeling.”

“There must be something,” Giles coaxed.

“There was an incident,” Jacques replied reluctantly.

“The attack?”

The look on Jacques’s face was one of genuine shock. “She told you about it?” He stepped backward, and his eyes narrowed warily, then he frowned in perplexity. “I think she has not told you everything.”

“I have some understanding of what happened,” Giles said. “She did mention something about Matu being involved, but wouldn’t explain.”

Now the corners of Jacques mouth turned up into a smile, and Giles realized how very much he and his sister resembled each other. “She will protect that woman at all cost. What has Grace told you?”

“May I speak frankly,
Monsieur
Renault?”

“
Bien sûr
. Of course.”

“You are quite right. I do not know the whole story. I know that she was attacked, but Grace insists that the attack was stopped before…before…”

“You are her husband, surely by now you would have confirmed her honesty.”

Giles actually blushed. It felt awkward, wrong somehow, to be discussing his wife so frankly with another man. But this was her uncle, he told himself. This was a man who might know the whole story and be able to help him help Grace.

“We haven’t known one another very long, and Grace has been understandably reluctant—” He stopped and shrugged.

Jacques gave him a sympathetic look. “I understand completely. It is good to know that she has married such a patient man. We French know love. We also know wine, and the two are similar,
non
? Worth the wait. I can assure you,
Capitaine
, unless something has happened that Iolanthe has not told me, and my sister tells me everything, your bride is a virgin. There was a rather close call many years ago, but Grace has told you the truth. It was stopped short of rape.”

“How many years ago?”

“Over a decade, I think.”

Giles’s face went white. “Dear God. Tell me what happened.”

Jacques shook his head. “Perhaps I should not have said this much.”

“
Monsieur
, you may be our only hope. You do want to help, do you not?”

With a heavy sigh, Jacques nodded. “Very well. She has told you nothing more than you have said?”

“Something about Matu being hurt, and something about her father coming in and the world coming apart. She mentioned thinking that she was one thing and finding out that she was something else. I could make no sense of it.”

Jacques crossed his arms tightly across his chest and turned his back to Giles. “She was emotional when she spoke of it?”

“Terrified,” Giles confirmed.

“Terrified,” Jacques echoed softly. “After all these years. She has nightmares, I suppose.”

“There is no doubt that the event left her deeply scarred.” Giles waited while Jacques, his back still turned, seemed to struggle with overwhelming emotion. “Forgive me. I do not mean to add salt to family wounds.”

At last, Jacques turned back around. He didn’t seem overly distressed after all. “The wounds are more Grace’s, I imagine. She was attacked in her bed at night by a slave. He went crazy. Surely he must have known that he would be put to death, and of course, he was. Matu claimed that he threatened her in order to get into Grace’s room, but I have always wondered if she had not let him in and shown him the way. They’re very spiteful, those Africans.”

Giles ignored the editorial comment in favor of gaining information. “I don’t think that Matu would ever be a part of that. She adores Grace.”

Jacques waved his hand in dismissal. “Perhaps. Who knows?”

“What about the world coming apart, thinking that she something other than what she was?”

“She could not imagine a Black assaulting a white child. For awhile, she thought she must have been black for him to do such a thing. A child’s reasoning.” Jacques shrugged.

“That’s why she feels so close to them, the slaves on her father’s plantation?”

“Perhaps. If you ask me, Matu uses her.”

“You share Iolanthe’s dislike for Matu.”

Jacques smiled, and again, Giles thought of Iolanthe. “Iolanthe and I share many things in common.
Capitaine
, Grace and I were very close when she was a child. In fact, I was there the night that she was attacked. Perhaps you could direct me to your home, and I could speak with her alone before you return from your ship. If I can, I would like to help.”

Giles’s mouth drew into a grim line. “If she is there.”

Jacques’s eyes opened wide in alarm. “She may not be?”

“She spoke of going home, but my friend, Faith, is trying to stop her.”

“Your friend is staying with her?”

“Nay. She lives across the bay.”

“So if she has convinced Grace to stay, Grace will be alone?”

“I suppose so. You’re welcome to attempt to talk to her. At this point, I will try anything.”

Jacques gave him a brotherly pat on the shoulder. “Let me take care of her,
Capitaine
. I have always had a special touch when it comes to my niece.”

Grace surveyed the results of several hours’ work. It had taken the better part of a week to decide, but decide she had. She was staying. She had tried to recreate the perfect organization that Giles had contrived, but in the end, she could only be grateful that she didn’t have the same compulsion about it that he did. Her things were reasonably well arranged, and most of the drawers could be closed if she’d had any mind to close them.

Exhausted, she lay across the bed. It was rumpled, but it was made. She thought about her few brief attempts to heed Faith’s advice, but ultimately the intensity of the sensation and the knowledge that a man slept in the office below had restrained her. She still did not fully understand what Faith had been talking about, but it had left her more willing to try again with her husband. Just thinking about what she had done brought a guilty blush to her cheeks, and she jumped when a knock sounded on the office door. ‘Twas almost like being caught in the act itself.

“We’re docked,” a man’s voice bellowed. “Cap’n wants you at the harbor.”

“‘Allelujah,” Grace’s guard replied. “Bloody dull ‘ere.” He called up the stairs, “Cap’n’ll be ‘ere soon, Mistress Courtney.”

“Aye, I heard.” She started to go down, thinking to join the men at the harbor, but one look at the disheveled state of the apartment gave her pause. At the very least, she could close the drawers and straighten the bed. “Tell him that I await his return,” she called back. “Make certain that you tell him that.”

“Aye, Mistress!”

She was more than a little relieved to have a bit of time alone to prepare herself for Giles’s return. As she smoothed the bedclothes and tidied the apartment, she kept repeating to herself that all would be well. Giles wanted her. She wanted him.