The Affectionate Adversary (35 page)

“And Miss Pickworth approves of this,” Miss Watson spoke up weakly. “But now Mr. Locke aspires to become a solicitor, not a barrister. He does not wish to join our society, but he plans to defend publicans and sinners, because Sarah told him to.”

“Your sister did not tell me what to do,” Charles corrected. “She merely demonstrated the truth with her own life. My decisions are my own.”

Delacroix crossed his arms over his chest. “This is a fine plate of eels. I find the house all in an uproar caused by Mr. Locke, the very gentleman for whom I have been searching these past three hours. I have important news to deliver.”

“Speak plainly, Delacroix,” Sarah said. “What do you have to tell Mr. Locke?”

“I shall … but I believe a prior issue yet remains before us on the table. Dear lady, how can I relate my own information until you have answered Mr. Locke’s proposal?”

“Perhaps your news may affect my answer, sir. You must give it to him at once.”

“I beg your pardon, madam, but I shall hold my tongue—for it is your turn to speak.”

“But I am not prepared to give Mr. Locke an answer. I have only just—”

“Oh, come, Sarah, he has proposed marriage to you before,” Miss Watson reminded her sister. “If you wish to marry this … this proud and principled pauper … and give away all your fortune … and live on the streets … and beg with the blind girls in China … and leave Mary and me and our new baby niece or nephew all alone, then how shall we stop you?” “I have assured you, sister, that I do not mean to leave this country again. Not permanently, anyway.”

“Then marry Mr. Locke and live in Cheapside and preach to the doxies and pickpockets.”

“Pru, for heaven’s sake, do stop these ridiculous theatrics.”

“Dear Sarah,” Mrs. Heathhill spoke up, “you will put us all at ease if you can finally set your mind upon a course and refrain from any more wavering. I am queasy enough as it is. You recently informed Prudence and me that you meant to remain in England, retain your fortune, and wed Lord Delacroix. We agreed that Mr. Locke is much better suited to Prudence. God gave you the role as the eldest of three sisters, He permitted our father to train you for an elevated position in society, and He means for you to make yourself and all your family happy by choosing a wise and profitable path.”

Pausing, she turned to Charles. “Mr. Locke, I cannot doubt that you feel some surprise concerning the plans my sisters and I made. Clearly, your preferences lie in another direction. Yet our offer can be seen in a prudential light. Prudence is by far the prettiest of the three of us, and she brings to her marriage ten thousand pounds—enough to pay for your studies and see you to the bar as a solicitor. But why be content with such a menial lot? While it is true that our Lord consorted with publicans and sinners, do the wealthy not require salvation as well?”

“Indeed they do,” Miss Watson answered her sister. “Everyone requires it—rich and poor alike.”

“It is my observation,” Mrs. Heathhill observed, “that our society is rife with every sort of immorality—adultery, greed, covetousness, laziness. The rich, as our dear sister Sarah reminds us all too often, will have a harder time getting into heaven than anyone else. Why should you not put your piety to use in ministering to them on behalf of God?”

“Well, I—,” Charles began.

“You have surely heard,” she continued, “of our regent’s reproachable and dissipated life. In short, the seven deadly sins may as well be the motto for his coat of arms.”

“Mary,” Miss Watson admonished her, “you should not speak of the regent in such a way.”

“I may speak as I please. The regent is as immoral and ungodly as the most brazen harlot to walk the streets of London. Let Mr. Locke rise to barrister and preach to the refuse of the grand salons of this city. I daresay he will find as many sinners there as he would in all of Cheapside.”

“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Heathhill,” Delacroix spoke up, “but may I clarify one point in your previous discourse? Did you say
all three
sisters agreed that the eldest should marry me?”

“Of course,” the woman replied. “And I cannot see that Mr. Locke’s impetuous proposal should change Sarah’s mind. Sarah, you will wed Lord Delacroix as you promised us; will you not?”

His heart slamming against his chest, Charles clenched his fists. Though every fiber of his being called out to her to deny that man and accept his own offer, he knew that nothing he could say would influence Sarah.

Her sister was wise. Surely Sarah would not opt for love over reason. No matter how she may have felt aboard the
Queen Elinor
, she would no longer choose a life of poverty when she had seen the value of security, stability, and the constant presence of family and friends. No matter the love she may have professed for Charles in the shadows of Leadenhall Market, she could not refuse her sisters when she had made them a promise.

He would lose her. He must surrender her. He must accept his loss and continue in his plan to follow God’s leading.

Closing his eyes, he gritted his teeth in anticipation of Sarah’s answer. And then she spoke.

“I thank you very much, dearest sisters, for the kind advice you have given me, but I cannot abide by it. And, Lord Delacroix, although you have not made me an offer of marriage—”

“I do so now!” he cried out, leaping to his feet. “I was waiting … I was calling on you … courting—”

“Do not trouble yourself, sir. I knew your intent. I am sorry if my answer gives you pain, but I shall not be able to marry you. My heart, you see, was lost to Mr. Locke some time ago, and I do not wish to have it back again.”

She halted, and when Charles lifted his head, he could see that her lips were trembling. “Dearest Sarah,” he said, hardly able to believe what he had just heard. “My darling, beautiful lady. Will you … ? Can it be true that … ? Do you, at last, accept my offer of marriage?”

She smiled through her tears. “I do, sir. I do.”

“Oh, dear me!” Miss Watson exclaimed as Charles rose from his chair and knelt at Sarah’s knee. “Mary, look at her! Delacroix, what is to become of us? Do something!”

“I shall do something, indeed,” Delacroix announced. “Mr. Locke, it is now time for me to relate to you some very important information.”

Unable to make himself care in the least what this news might be, Charles took Sarah’s hand and kissed it. “My love, how happy you make me,” he murmured. “I assure you that I shall do all in my power to bring you happiness and peace. You cannot know how—”

“Mr. Locke,” Delacroix cut in, “I bring a report that may change all your strategies, and thereby may influence Lady Delacroix’s decision to become your wife.”

“I adore you, Charles,” Sarah whispered as tears trickled down her cheeks. “I do not know how I could have failed to see it all this time. Love is the simplest thing in the world, and you are the best and dearest man I have ever known.”

“My passion for you has never wavered,” he told her. “Not for a moment. Nothing can change my feelings for you, my darling Sarah. I vow that I shall protect and cherish you all the days of my life. I shall make every effort to honor your wishes and heed your—”

“Mr. Locke!” Delacroix interrupted loudly, clapping his hand on Charles’s shoulder. “I beg you to refrain from this display of ardor until you have heard me out.”

“Upon my honor, sir,” Charles retorted, “I am hardly disposed to listen to you when this dear woman has made me the happiest man in the world. Please allow me a moment of peace in which to thank God and pledge myself to my future bride.”

“I believe your joy must be postponed, sir. For what I have to present to you may take precedence over it.” So saying, Delacroix motioned to one of the footmen who stood beside the drawing-room door. Then he turned and addressed the group around the fire. “Lady Delacroix, Mrs. Heathhill, Miss Watson, and, of course, Mr. Locke—may I introduce a young man whose arrival at my gentlemen’s club this morning stirred a greater interest than I have observed there in some time. Do come in, sir.”

Into the room stepped a thin fellow clad in a slightly overlarge suit—a black frock coat and matching breeches, a gold vest, a ruffled cravat, and a tall top hat, which he removed at once. Making a deep bow, he stepped forward and spoke. “Good afternoon to ye, Mr. Locke. I reckon ye gave me up for dead, sir, as I did ye. And yet here we both be, sound as whistles.”

Charles stared for a moment, hearing a voice he knew quite well, but unable to believe his eyes. “Danny Martin?” he asked. “Is it you?”

“The very lad, sir,” the youth said, his face breaking into a familiar grin. “We’ve come back from the grave, eh? Both of us! I were stole away by them pirates, sir. Chained up and shipped off toward Malabar to become a slave to some rajah or pirate king. But what do ye suppose happened along the way? A British naval vessel brought down the pirates and carried me back home to England. Me … and something ye might be wantin’, sir.”

As he spoke, Danny stepped aside to allow a footman to carry a small locked chest into the room. Danny burst into laughter at the look on Charles’s face. “Aye, sir,” he cried, throwing out his hand toward the chest, “’tis exactly what ye think! I brought ye back your gold!”

  
Seventeen
  

As though a drop of melting snow had fallen from a roof down the back of his shirt, Charles knew a sudden, thrilling chill of realization. It was true. This boy was indeed Danny. And the black chest at his side contained enough gold to finance an entire tea enterprise.

Feeling as if the world might suddenly tilt away from him and spill him down a long dark tunnel, Charles rose gingerly from the carpet on which he had knelt to profess his love to Sarah. How could this be? Danny had drowned along with many others on the
Tintagel
. Pirates had stolen the chest. The gold was gone. The tea company had vanished in the puff of smoke from a cannonball.

“Are ye not pleased to see me, sir?” Danny wondered, his face sobering. “The admiral wanted to turn in the gold with the rest of the loot they took off the pirate ship. Said he could surrender it to the naval authorities at Portsmouth, and it would add to the credit he’d get for bringing down the enemy. But I told him I knew who the chest belonged to, and I said that even though ye were dead—which is what I thought—ye had told me about your father and the tea company, and it weren’t right to take the gold from its proper owner. So he give me a set of new clothes and an armed escort and a letter with a seal and sent me to London to look for your father. I went to the gentlemen’s club to inquire, and that man there, Lord Delacroix, told me ye were not dead, and so here I be. Mr. Locke, ye were a friend to me aboard the
Tintagel
, and I hoped to make ye happy by returnin’ the chest.”

His head clearing at last, Charles broke from his trance and strode quickly across the room. “I am happy to see you, Danny!” he said, taking the boy’s hand, pumping it for a moment, and then giving up all formality by throwing his arms around the scrawny fellow. “By george, you are a brave lad! Stood up for me before the admiral, did you? Came here with an armed escort? Well, well, well! I am as astonished and pleased as I have ever been in all my life.”

Laughing, the boy fairly danced a jig. “I saw ye go over the side of the ship, sir! I knew ye could never survive! But here ye be—and me, too. Both of us together again, just as we was!”

“The last I saw you, Danny, a pirate was coming after you!”

“Aye, and he got me, too, but he didn’t kill me. No sir, for by that time, they was finished with their attack and was beginnin’ to take slaves and loot. I thought I was done for. I thought we both was!”