Christine Dorsey - [Sea 01] (37 page)

“It is you, dear girl, who has been through so much. It is no wonder you ran away.”

“Well, actually, I didn’t run away from the pirate either, whose name is Jack, by the by.” Miranda bit on the end of her thumbnail, sighing after she made her decision to reveal her feelings to her friend. “I love him, you see. And that’s why I’m here. To help him.”

Miranda gave the Spaniard a quick sketch of her husband’s history. “So that’s why I came to you. I thought you might assist me in find—”

“What kind of man would send his wife to discover the whereabouts of his parents’ killer? I do not care if this man is a pirate, he should have more care of you than to do such a thing.”

“He does.”

“What?”

“I said he does. Jack doesn’t know I’m here. He left me on his ship. Actually, he left me in Charles Town, but I stowed away. Then he left me on his ship; but I knew I could help him, so I came ashore.”

“Miranda. Your poor grandfather would turn over in his grave.”

“Now, Don Luis, you know such a thing is impossible.” Miranda reached for the decanter and poured him another glass of wine. This one disappeared as quickly as the other.

When he appeared to regain at least a modicum of composure, Miranda continued. “Now, if you would just tell me—”

“I know of Sergeant Major de Segovia. He is a cruel man. You are no match for him, Miranda.”

“Nor do I plan to be. It is Jack’s sister I wish to find. Jack will do nothing until she is safe.”

“So, does this pirate of yours plan to destroy the entire town? For if that is his design, I cannot allow him—”

“No,” Miranda assured, hoping against hope she spoke the truth. “He only wishes to find his sister... and destroy the man who killed his family and held him prisoner.”

Miranda let out a breath she didn’t realize she held when Don Luis nodded. “That sounds just. Though John Locke may not —”

“Don Luis, please.” Most times Miranda would love nothing better than to hold a philosophical discussion, but she could not allow it now. “Do you know of Jack’s sister?”

The Spaniard leaned back, seeming to take no offense at her interruption. “Let me see. You say her name is Elspeth?”

“
Si
, that is the name her parents gave her, but who knows what happened after she was captured? Truthfully, she may even be dead.”

“I don’t think so. There is a young woman—how old did you say she’d be?”

“Perhaps seventeen. Jack was fourteen when the attack took place, his sister nine years younger.”

“Yes, it sounds like it could be... Is her hair—”

“Red. Jack told me she had red hair, like the color of leaves in the autumn. You know her, don’t you? I can tell by your expression.”

“
Sí.
I know of such a woman.”

“Then, take me to her.” Miranda jumped to her feet, pausing on her way to the door when she realized Don Luis wasn’t following her. “What is it?”

“I will not assist in her kidnapping.”

“Kidnapping?” Miranda retraced her steps. “Jack doesn’t wish to kidnap her. He wants to rescue her.”

“And what if she doesn’t want to be rescued?”

“But that’s ridiculous. Why wouldn’t she?” Miranda sank back into the chair.

“Twelve years is a long time.”

Miranda met his glance. “Don’t you think the choice should be hers?”

“Can you promise me it will be?”

“Of course.” Oh, she wished she wasn’t being forced to guarantee so many things. Especially when the final decision was not hers but her husband’s.

“Very well, then.” Don Luis pushed himself from his chair. “I suppose she has a right to know.”

On the short walk toward the outskirts of town, Don Luis spoke of his recent work with his telescope. “And you, Miranda? Have you done anything for me to write the Royal Academy about? I had a letter recently from Christopher Wren. He asked of you.”

“Really?” The president of the Royal Society had inquired about her? Miranda couldn’t help the surge of joy. But it was short-lived. “Actually I’ve done very little since arriving in the New World.” Which wasn’t strictly true if you counted meeting her father, her kidnapping and marriage, but Miranda decided not to go into that again.

“Is this where Jack’s sister lives?” They’d stopped in front of a small house set back from the road. A crushed-shell walkway led to the doorway, and Miranda followed Don Luis. “De Segovia doesn’t live here also?” she asked, placing her hand upon his sleeve.

“No. Just Isabel Cadiz and her husband.”

“Husband?” Before Miranda could inquire about that, the Spaniard had knocked on the door, and it was answered by a plump woman with streaks of gray fanning out through her black hair:

They were ushered into a large, well-appointed room, and greeted by a lovely young woman with red hair.

“Don Luis,” she said, coming forward. “How nice of you to visit. And you’ve brought a friend.”

“
Sí
. Isabel, this is Miranda Chadwick.”

Isabel’s smile widened. “You are English?”

“Yes. I’ve recently come from there,” Miranda answered in fluent Spanish.

“I, too, have recently made a voyage... from Spain,” Isabel said shyly. “Please sit.” She indicated a carved chair. “Tell me, what is your reason for visiting St. Augustine?”

Miranda looked around for Don Luis, but he simply shrugged and walked out into the garden, leaving Miranda and Elspeth alone. Taking a deep breath, Miranda forged ahead. “ ‘Tis you I’ve come to see.” At the young woman’s bewildered expression, Miranda continued. “My name isn’t Chadwick any longer. I’m newly married.”

“I don’t understand. What has that to do with me?”

Miranda studied her a moment. She was petite where Jack was large; redheaded, where her brother was fair. But the eyes were the same. The same sea green color. The same shape. Miranda leaned toward her. “My husband is Jack Blackstone.”

There was a flicker of recognition in the depths of those sea green eyes. At least Miranda thought there was, but the woman only smiled, and offered her guest a cup of tea.

Miranda accepted the drink, then laid it on the table to her side. “Jack Blackstone,” she repeated. “Certainly you remember him. He’s your brother.”

“I have no brother.”

Miranda might have believed her if not for the rattling of Elspeth’s teacup against her saucer. “But you do.” Miranda dropped to her knees in front of Elspeth. “He survived the attack on Port Royal. The Spanish held him captive for two years; then during a pirate attack he escaped. When he was able to return to St. Augustine he looked for you, but you weren’t here.”

Elspeth, shook her head so violently locks of red hair cascaded down her back. She tried to cover her ears, but Miranda grabbed her hands, making her listen.

“You must remember him. You’re Elspeth Blackstone, and your brother is Jack. He’s—”

“Enough, Miranda.” Don Luis entered the room and put his arm around Miranda’s shoulders. “I cannot permit this. Your grandfather would not have permitted this.”

“But can’t you see she’s—”

“I see only that you’ve upset her terribly. And her father, who is an acquaintance of mine and a man with a great interest in the philosophies, recently told me she is with child.”

“Her father couldn’t have told you anything. Her father was killed by the Spanish in 1686.”

Miranda twisted out of Don Luis’ hold on her. Turning, ready to do more convincing if need be, she paused. Elspeth was crying softly, her face buried deep in her hands, and Miranda didn’t have the heart to cause her further pain.

When Don Luis suggested they leave, she agreed, making it almost to the parlor door before a tear-thick voice called her back.

“Don’t go. Please, I must speak with you.” Elspeth pulled a handkerchief from beneath her ruffled sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. “Please,” she repeated, motioning toward the chair Miranda recently vacated.

“You’re right,” she began, when Miranda was seated and Don Luis returned to the garden. “I do have a brother... at least I did.”

“You still do. He’s here in St. Augustine looking for you.”

Elspeth’s fingers flattened against her lips, and she sniffed back fresh tears. “I thought him dead... along with all the rest of them.” She shut her eyes, and Miranda reached for her hand.

“He’s not dead.”

Elspeth nodded once, then let out her breath. “I was but five when it happened. Truthfully, I remember very little except the screams. So many people screaming and I didn’t know why.” Her gaze sought Miranda’s. “I screamed, too, so loud and long.” She shrugged slightly.

“When I woke up it was dark and I couldn’t find Mama. Later, when I was older, I pieced together what must have happened. But at the time, I only knew how frightened I was. Until Don Carlos and his wife came to me. They treated me as a daughter and helped me forget. When Don Carlos was sent back to Spain, I went with him. Her hand turned, and she grasped Miranda’s fingers. “You must understand. Deep down I knew they weren’t my true parents; yet they took care of me and loved me, and I love them.”

“I do understand.” Miranda covered their joined hands with her palm. “But it’s over now. Jack has come to take you home and—”

“But I am home.”

“I realize you—”

“No, no, I really am home. I want to see Jack, of course, but I will not leave St. Augustine with him. My husband is here, my family. All I know and hold dear.”

By the time Miranda finished listening to Elspeth, she was truly convinced that Jack’s sister was happy where she was. The man she thought of as her father was recently widowed and had returned to St. Augustine with Isabel and her husband. Her first child was due in the winter, and she had no intention of raising the baby any place but by her husband’s side.

Miranda understood her feelings. She just wondered if Jack, who had spent years searching for his sister, would share that empathy.

 “So, what are you going to do now?” Don Luis inquired.

She and Don Luis were in front of Isabel Cadiz’s house, and Miranda had been asking herself the same question. “I suppose I’ll go back to the quay. Phineas is there, and he may be able to help me find my husband.” She sighed. “I wish I knew where Jack was.”

“Perhaps you should return to his ship and let him handle his own business in St. Augustine.”

“Maybe you’re right. I would like to tell him about his sister, though.” Miranda turned toward her friend. “Do you know where I might find de Segovia?”

“Sergeant Major de Segovia is the commander of the Castillo de San Marcos.” Don Luis pointed toward the large structure to the north of town. “But you are not thinking of going there after him, are you? De Segovia is a very dangerous man.”

Miranda shaded her eyes and stared at the fortress made of the native coquina rock. It shone bright in the mid-afternoon sun.

“Miranda, you cannot be thinking—”

“No,” Miranda assured him. “I’m going back to the quay, and then to the
Sea Hawk
.”

“You are sure?”

“Do not worry, Don Luis. It would be illogical for me to go anywhere else. And you know how logical I am.”

The entire time she bid her farewell to Don Luis, Miranda believed she was telling him the truth. She even headed straight for the harbor when she left him. But without conscious thought her feet seemed to veer off toward the north.

When she finally realized her destination was the huge stone structure, Miranda paused. Shaking her head, she decided the pirate’s style of veracity must be contagious.

But the truth was, she needed to find Jack. And if she knew him—which she decided, she probably didn’t very well—he was somewhere near the
castillo.

All she intended to do was tell him about Elspeth, Isabel, and then go back to the ship. Her husband had a very good reason for hating de Segovia; however, she had no desire to witness the confrontation between them. Of course, she had little doubt that Jack would be the victor in a fair fight. But there were a large number of Spanish soldiers in the area.

And two of them seemed intent upon staring at Miranda. She’d first noticed them right after saying her good-byes to Don Luis, but hadn’t really thought much of it till now. Miranda stopped, pretending interest in some fruit in the market area. When, she glanced up through her lashes, the two soldiers, one tall and dark with deep-set eyes, the other smaller and gray, were still watching her.

But what could they want with her?

Miranda said something in Spanish to the old woman behind the stall and moved along, mingling as best she could with the people busy marketing. She didn’t look back toward the soldiers, and she nearly convinced herself that she had imagined their interest in her. After all, she looked like any number of women in the market.

Nonchalantly, Miranda meandered toward the
castillo
, ever watchful for some sign of Jack or the rest of the pirates. She didn’t see them, but as she rounded the last stall Miranda stood face to face with the two soldiers.

Trying not to show her fear, she pardoned herself and tried to move away. A dirty hand on her arm stopped her.

“Excuse me,” Miranda said in her most indignant voice. She twisted her arm, but the soldier’s grip did not relax.