Lucky's Lady (The Caversham Chronicles Book 4) (52 page)

"I
was the one who did not wish this information allowed in court, as I did not wish for my husband's reputation to be sullied."

"But Mary-Michael, if it might save your life..."

"I did not wish Mr. Baxter to present it at the time because I never thought my community–the jury, the people I worked with and lived among all my life–would despise me and everything I represented. I didn't know there were so many who resented my chosen vocation because of my sex."

"What did they say?"

"The prosecuting lawyer said in his opening arguments that society says my working in a man's field and my wearing of men's clothing is vulgar and abhorrent, and my command of male employees is a gross perversion of nature. And he was going to prove that I abused my power over men for my sexual gratification. Not just by enticing Mr. Watkins into marriage, but also enticing several men, not just Mr. Potts, into affairs as well. Those were his exact words."

The normally serene visage of the Duchess tightened in anger. "He said those things in a court of law?"

Mary-Michael nodded. "And here these last two years, I was trying to keep my husband's business from falling apart as he grew more and more ill. He guided me, taught me everything. But in the end..." She shook her head.

She rose and took her sleeping babe, who'd long since quit nursing, and laid her on her cot for a moment while she re-buttoned her bodice, then pulled back the cover in the babe's bed. Once done, she transferred her still-sleeping daughter to her cradle and tucked her in.

"They cannot sentence you to die simply because you loved a man and lied about it," Her Grace said. "That's ludicrous."

They were both silent a while as Mary-Michael got fresh linens ready for when the babe woke up needing a change. She remembered the judge's words when he read her sentence. He said her case was to be held up to the community as an example of what can happen to those who willfully disregard the laws of the state.

"But we seem to have drifted from the point," the duchess said. "What piece of evidence was withheld from the trial? Your husband legally acknowledged the child before his death, correct?"

"He did. He even protected us by leaving everything to Lucy in a trust, and me enough for us to live comfortably. He wanted me to have this child, as much as I wanted her."

Lucky's sister looked confused. "What did you not tell the jury?"

Mary-Michael begged the duchess' forgiveness. "I think the one person who most deserves an explanation for my actions is Lucky. Before I tell anyone else, I must tell him."

 

M
ary-Michael tucked the light sheet over her daughter as she and Lia began to prepare for bed. Lucky's sister had insisted she call her by her name, since they were soon to be sisters-in-law. Mary-Michael let the woman think what she wanted, she knew Lucky would never marry her—especially after learning the truth. Each time Mary-Michael tried to remind the duchess of this, the other woman gave a tsk-tsk and said something about Mary-Michael not knowing the stubbornness of the men in their family.

A faint tap at the window told her Becky had arrived. Likely there was news of some sort from the village that she might want to know. Perhaps Father Douglas had returned from Annapolis with news from the governor. Or maybe Mr. Baxter was back from Baltimore. It was still too early for Ian Ross to have returned from Washington with the British ambassador. Mary-Michael shushed Lucky's sister, as she opened her mouth to exclaim. Mary-Michael had forgotten to tell her of the frequent late night visitor. Mary-Michael hurried to reach the window and opened it slowly, supporting the window frame so it wouldn't make the rusty squeak. She grabbed the steel bars the blacksmith had added to the room after she was officially arrested, but saw no one.

"Becky?" she whispered, not wanting to trigger an inquiry by her guard if he heard her.

The first floor room didn't get the breeze she'd enjoyed in her upper floor room at the house she shared with Mr. Watkins, but she was fortunate because it allowed her friends to visit her on the sly in the dark of night, during the outside guard's break. Mary-Michael startled when Lucky slid to the front of the window and greeted her with a smile.

He put his arms through the bars, and she grasped his hands thankful to be able to touch him. She had so much to say to him before she begged him for his forgiveness. Mary-Michael took refuge in his strength. It beckoned her so much that she fell into the wall, imagining it was not there and that his body was next to hers. He held her as close as he could, and Mary-Michael struggled to catch her breath. She feared his reaction when he learned the truth.

Behind her, Lia cleared her throat. Mary-Michael stepped back from Lucky's awkward embrace. Lia approached them and asked, "How can I leave the room so you two might have privacy?"

Mary-Michael was quick to reply. "Tell the guard you would like to get a cup of warm milk from the kitchens. Sister Anne is in her cell by now, deep into her prayers. You'll have to hunt around for both items." She smiled broadly at her new temporary cell mate and partner in crime. "And it should take you a while."

"Make it fast," Lia said as quietly as Mary-Michael. "I'm not sure how long I can search for a cup and milk without drawing suspicion."

With a quick nod of agreement from Lucky, he released her and ducked out of view, while Mary-Michael sat on her cot as though in prayer and Lia tapped at the door. Once it was locked behind the duchess, Mary-Michael went back to the window and signaled Lucky. Her former lover was quick to return. She put her arms through the bars.

"I have wanted to hold you from the moment I received the letter from George," Lucky said, holding her hands close to his chest. "I've wanted to hold you and make this entire nightmare go away for you, for us."

"You talked to Becky and she told you where my window was." It wasn't a question, but a statement. She knew that if Becky confided this, she must have told him more of their secrets, but which ones? The fact that he didn't hate her must mean Becky hadn't told him everything.

"We haven't long," she whispered. "The guard usually takes about thirty minutes to eat and take care of his needs."

"Michael is standing as lookout across the alley," Lucky replied. "When he sees the guard returning he will signal me."

"Lucky, I have so much to tell you," she began, needing him to hear the truth from her now because they never knew if they might get another opportunity to be alone. "I would like for you to know the reason why I am in the predicament that I am in, and I would beg your forgiveness. And afterward if you cannot forgive me my actions, then I would understand."

"It cannot possibly be as bad as you're building it up to be in your head, Mary." His cheerful manner grew more serious when Mary-Michael didn't reply. "Mary, you didn't hurt anyone, you didn't steal from anyone."

"But I did, Lucky. I did." She hung her head to hide her tears, and the deep shame she felt for her own actions. "You see—" And Mary-Michael explained everything to him, as quickly as she could because she didn't know when he might have to go. She told him everything from the very beginning—of her desire to be a mother, the failed adoption of Rowan and Emily, the incredible attraction she felt for him the day they met, to Mr. Watkins helping facilitate their affair when Lucky was in Indian Point. She confessed that she'd planned to never share her Lucy with him. And, that while she did, indeed, fall in love with Lucky, she was intending to live as Mr. Watkins' widow for the rest of her life, because she thought that was the best thing for her child. "Remember, I didn't know you were a nobleman, or wealthy or anything other than my handsome captain."

He remained silent as she spoke, taking in her words. "The same weekend you were here picking up the older boats in July, I was burying Mr. Watkins. That's why George and Father Douglas were not in town."

She wiped the hot, stinging tears that began to trickle down her shamefully reddened cheeks. Mary-Michael deserved his disaffection and more. She deserved his enmity and downright scorn. But in his silence her heart sensed a promise of hope, faint though it was.

"I felt something in your presence that called me to you," she said. "From the moment we met, I had the sensation that the entire reason I was drawn to designing clippers was so that we would one day meet. As though it was the reason I was born, the reason I was given this gift, and the reason Mr. Watkins saved me. With all my heart I believe that God determined the day, the hour, the minute of our setting eyes upon each other."

She glanced at the hand-carved cradle near the cot. The one in which their daughter lay sleeping. "If I had been fortunate enough to conceive the first time you were here, I wouldn't be here because Mr. Watkins wanted more than anything to claim our child as his own. He didn't want me to be alone after he died." She sucked in a deep, shaky breath, trying to control her weeping. As soon as she was able, she continued. "But our daughter was born when God decided, not you and not I."

"Do you love me, Mary?"

"I think I've been in love with you from the moment we met."

"Do you trust me, Mary?"

How could he ask this? She wanted him to take and raise the only good thing she'd ever done with her life. Her beautiful little Lucy. "With my daughter's life, I do."

"What about yours?"

"It..." She swallowed past the knot forming in her throat, making speech difficult. Could he really mean that he loved her, too? He loved her now, even knowing she'd lied to him? "It goes without saying that I do."

"Then I am getting you out of here if I have to break you out and steal you away to England." The strength of his determination came through in his whispered promise.

"You cannot do that, Lucky. If you are captured, you could go to prison. Or worse." He didn't seem to care for his own safety as he continued to stare into her eyes and give her this knowing grin. "Lucky, if I just disappear, I will not be vindicated. Everyone in the community I love will believe the worst of me. I have a shipyard to run. I cannot allow that." The door rattled and she broke away from his grasp to hurriedly plop down on the bed again, head bowed as though praying. But it was only Lia with her cup of warm milk.

Once Lia was in the room and the solid wooden door again locked, Mary-Michael went back to the window with Lia next to her, and she stretched out her right hand. Lia put her left hand out and Lucky took both women's hands, and said, "We are doing everything in our power to find out who is behind this, and to free you, Mary. Until we do, we have been working on a plan."

"I don't know what you have planned, but be careful, Luchino," Lia said.

"Your Grace," Lucky began, obviously referring to something the duchess would remember which would clue her in to their tactic perhaps. "Do you remember what you did for Miss Calliope Armistead when Lord Herndon tried to besmirch her character when she'd given him the cut at Isabel's debut? He was a drunken lout then. Still is, I hear, but that is neither here nor there."

"I seem to remember rising to her defense, and refuting the young lordling's assertions that Callie was a self-absorbed ice maiden whose fortune was not worth the frostbite." The duchess met Mary-Michael's gaze and smiled. "Miss Armistead is one of the kindest and most generous souls in London. The young man was in desperate need of marrying an heiress and after she'd refused his attention for several weeks, he thought to ruin her publicly, thinking to force her into accepting his suit later."

Lucky patted Mary-Michael's hand reassuringly. "It was a beautiful thing to watch, darling sister. You, Elise, and Sarah coming to the aid of one of your own daughter's greatest nemeses." Lucky grinned at them both. To Mary-Michael he said, "This woman standing next to you is a master tactician when the need calls for it."

"I would still have you take care, Luchino."

"We'll be fine, Your Grace."

"And do not do anything that will get my son thrown in jail either," the duchess said.

Mary-Michael agreed with his sister. "Even if you don't listen to my pleas, heed your sister's." When he appeared uninfluenced by her words, she continued. "Lucky, whatever you do, do not get yourself thrown into prison," Mary-Michael stressed. "They'll send you to the fort. And I've heard about those cells. They're so tiny it will drive you insane. If you can even fit into one," she added, noting once more as she looked at him, just exactly how broad and tall he was.

"I shall do my best not to get injured, nor thrown in jail," he said with confidence. "And we will take care of Marcus."

With all the whispering and soft scolding going on, the babe stirred and Mary-Michael turned to retrieve her so Lucky could see her again. He smiled, reaching in through the bars to stroke his daughter's downy-soft cheek as she struggled to find her sleep again. Mary-Michael handed the baby to Lia and held onto Lucky, not knowing when she would next have an opportunity to touch him, not with a guard always posted at her door and window. Lia rocked the babe, swaying to and fro gently, cooing as she did. Mary-Michael found herself wishing for a happy ending for herself, her daughter and Lucky. She just didn't think it was likely.

"Mary, I cannot leave until you promise me one thing."

"I cannot make such a blanket promise. I would know what you wish first."

"Promise you will marry me." His manner was quietly confident, and even though he wasn't asking, he
was
asking. It was in the tone of his voice. In the expectantly hopeful look in his dark brown eyes. In the way he held his breath while waiting for her reply.

"I will be in mourning for three more months," she said. "You will be on your way to China by then." She didn't want to tell him that her community might think her disrespectful of her husband's passing, and judge her character even more traitorous than they already had.