Ill Wind and Dead Reckoning: Caribbean Pirate Adventure (Valkyrie) (6 page)

I woke alone
in the morning. The memories of the day and night before came back to me, and I couldn’t stop the tears.

I turned away when Klara entered, but by the pause in her step I realized she knew I was crying and didn’t know what to do about it. She put the armful of linen she carried on to the chest and left the room again.

By the time she came back, I had myself under control, my face dry. ‘Good morning, Klara,’ I said, my voice steady.

‘Morning, Miss Gabriella. Are you well?’ I nodded and flung the covers back, then stood. I gasped when I saw the sheets. He’d made me bleed! He must have known, but he hadn’t cared!

‘Don’t worry, Miss Gabriella, it’s normal the first time.’

I looked at Klara as she threw the covers back down to hide the red stains. ‘I’ll take care of it.’ She nodded towards the pile of linen she’d brought to my room. I swallowed and nodded.

‘Thank you,’ I tried to say, but it came out as a whisper.

I crossed to the bowl of water she prepared and winced as I pulled my shift over my head. My body hurt. I washed carefully, then dressed in the pale-blue gown Klara had laid out whilst I was washing.

‘Where’s the wedding gown? Am I not wearing that today?’ I asked.

‘Later, this afternoon,’ Klara replied. ‘You’ll need to change after lunch, before the guests arrive, but this morning is your own.’

I let out a sigh of relief. After the surprises of yesterday, I didn’t know what to expect from today, but at least I had a few hours as Gabriella before I had to play the part of Mevrouw van Ecken again.

*

At the breakfast
table, Jan was all smiles and full of congratulations, and I knew I was blushing as I carefully sat down.

‘Good morning,’ I said to my husband, refusing to allow him to ignore me.

‘Morgen,’ he muttered, then lifted his eyes and smiled at me. I dropped my own eyes, unable to hold his gaze with that expression on his face. There was no warmth or emotion in that smile – it was a simple stretching of his lips.

I stared at my plate and picked at the fruit, my appetite gone.

‘Eat up, child. With any luck, you’ll be eating for two soon, you need to build up your strength,’ Jan said.

I froze. I couldn’t imagine bearing them a child. I couldn’t imagine having Erik as the father of my child. I started at a discreet touch from Klara and glanced at her. She smiled. I wondered what she was trying to tell me.

Eventually, breakfast over, I could escape. I needed to get away from the house and everything van Ecken, and headed through the trees to the cliff top, then my beach. I didn’t move until the position of the sun told me it was noon.

Lunch was just as awkward as breakfast, but the fresh air had made me hungry and I wolfed down the spiced chicken. I’d barely finished when Erik sent me upstairs to change. I climbed the stairs slowly. I wasn’t looking forward to spending the afternoon and evening in the company of Jan, Erik and their friends.

Klara had the
white dress looking perfect again, and I congratulated her as she entered my room. She nodded at my words and held out a cup of steaming liquid.

‘I saw your face, Miss Gabriella, when Mijnheer Jan talked about children.’

I looked at her, remembering the way she’d smiled and touched my shoulder. ‘I cannot bring a baby into this house, Klara. I won’t let those two men raise my child, but what can I do?’

‘Drink this,’ she said, and I took the cup. ‘It’s a tea made from plants that grow nearby. I and some of the other women drink it every morning. None of us have had a child since.’

I smiled at her, hardly daring to believe it. ‘You’re sure? I won’t have his baby if I keep drinking this?’

‘I’m sure,’ Klara said. I drank it, and grimaced – it was bitter.

‘You’ll get used to the taste,’ Klara said, smiling.

‘Or you could add sugar,’ I said, laughing with the relief I felt.

‘Or I could add sugar,’ Klara repeated, smiling. ‘Turn round.’

I did, and she untied the discreet ribbons holding my mantua in place, then removed it. Petticoats and stays followed, and I quickly washed then dressed in my wedding gown.

There was a knock at the door and we glanced at each other.

‘Just a moment,’ I called, but the door was flung open despite my words.

‘You need to hurry up,’ Erik said. ‘You’ve wasted the morning, you were nowhere to be seen when you should have been making preparations. Now our guests are arriving and you are still nowhere to be seen. This is not behaviour I expect from my wife and the mistress of Brisingamen.’ He accented his words with a regular thumping of his cane on the floor and I noticed Klara flinch every time he brought it down.

‘Oh, I thought everything was already done,’ I replied. ‘I didn’t know I was needed – if you’d told me, I’d have stayed at the house.’ I noticed Klara’s fingers stilled on the ties of my bodice at my words.

Erik just looked at me.

‘Pull those stays tighter, Klara,’ he said, without taking his eyes from me. I stared back at him. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of protesting and gritted my teeth as the wooden slats were drawn into my flesh.

Klara draped the mantua around me and secured it, and I checked my hair and face in the mirror. I was ready.

Erik turned and strode out of the room and I followed. I glanced at Klara as I left and she gave my hand a little squeeze, then I was on my own. I followed my husband down the first flight of creaking stairs, my stays digging into me on every step, but I was aware of Erik standing at the bottom watching me and I wouldn’t give him the pleasure of a whimper or complaint. I glanced at the door nearest my stairs – Erik’s room. I knew now we’d keep separate rooms and he would visit me at his own convenience. I wasn’t welcome in his room – not that I could ever imagine myself wanting to visit him. I realized that I was effectively trapped. I wouldn’t be able to descend these wooden stairs without alerting anyone in that room of my movements.

‘Hurry up wife, our guests are waiting!’ Erik tapped my back in impatience with his cane and I glared at him, then swept past him towards the main staircase. He caught up with me at the top and grabbed my arm, linking it with his own. I knew it wasn’t for my benefit, but for that of the crowd of people gathered in the hall and cheering.

I stretched my lips in a smile and stared at all the faces. I’d wished for a large party for my wedding day, and here it was. I knew nobody. Not one person was there for me. My eyes continued to sweep the room as we descended the stairs, and my smile became genuine when I recognized someone – Mr Sharpe, standing with the Gaudies, Hornigold and Cheval. There was only one friendly face in this crowd of people, and he was a pirate. My smile faded.

Erik led me
around the room on his arm as he greeted our guests and introduced me. At least, I think that’s what he was doing – he spoke only in Dutch, but when he said my name, he and the others looked at me and bowed. I gave a smile and small curtsey back. If he told me their names, I was unable to pick them out from the stream of Dutch.

I couldn’t understand anyone here, so I watched them instead, trying to spot clues to the conversation in the way they held their bodies, crossed their arms or touched my husband. Also in the way they spoke – I couldn’t understand the words, but I could still hear the fear, the dislike, the flattery, and I found it fascinating. I realized I’d been doing exactly this since I’d arrived to try and understand the van Eckens when they didn’t have the manners to speak English in front of me.

There were few women here, and all those present were on the arm of a husband – we seemed as much a rarity in the Caribbees as the Massachusetts Bay Colony – and I smiled at every woman I met, hoping to find a friend. The only smiles I received back were of pity or embarrassment, and I began to despair. Was
anybody
here happy for us or wishing us well for the future?

I looked around me for Klara – at least she’d have a genuine smile for me, but she was surrounded by the sailors.

Eventually we, or rather Erik, had greeted everyone in the room and we re-joined Jan. Both van Eckens ignored me and, aware of everyone in the room staring at me and their lack of manners, I was grateful when Mr Sharpe approached.

‘You look beautiful, Mrs van Ecken,’ he said, and his eyes dropped to admire my dress.

‘Thank you, Mr Sharpe,’ I replied and stared hard. His eyes had not yet risen from my cleavage.

‘Mr Sharpe?’ I said, and his eyes darted up to mine. His suddenly pale face flushed.

‘Oh, I do beg your pardon, Mrs van Ecken.’ His gaze dropped then rose again. ‘Forgive me, but your amethyst – it’s such a beautiful stone.’ His hand moved towards it and I grabbed the pendant myself, cupping the stone in my hand to protect it from the pirate. His hand dropped.

‘Where did you get it?’

I frowned at his rudeness, but decided to answer – up to now, he’d behaved well towards me and – after Klara – was the closest thing I had to a friend in the Caribbees.

‘My mother gave it to me when I left Massachusetts to get married – it had been given to her by my true father.’

‘Your true father?’

Yes. Some English earl who persuaded her he loved her, then put her aboard a ship to the New World rather than face the consequences of his courtship. He gave her the stone as a keepsake.’ I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

‘You don’t think well of him.’

‘Of course not! At best he’s a coward, at worst a devil. He lied to her, made her love him, used her, then shipped her off.’

‘What happened to her?’

‘A man on the ship took pity on her and married her. But he turned out to be another devil – just of a different ilk.’ I looked at him, my eyes narrowed. He was asking a lot of questions. I realized my hand had dropped from the necklace as I had been talking, and he was staring at it again.

‘Sharpe! Stop bothering my wife!’

My heart sank, Erik had noticed our conversation. Sharpe struggled to tear his eyes away from my chest, and Erik thumped the floor with his cane in anger, silencing the room.

‘Captain Tarr!’ Tarr was already crossing the room to join us. ‘Your nephew is drunk and making a nuisance of himself, kindly remove him from the presence of my wife. And teach him some manners!’

Tarr nodded once. ‘I beg your pardon, Mijnheer van Ecken, he is not feeling himself.’ He took one of Sharpe’s arms and indicated to Blake to take the other. They half-pulled Sharpe out of the hall and into the Caribbean afternoon sunshine.

‘Do not ever let me see you encouraging that man again,’ Erik hissed. ‘You are my wife and you will behave accordingly!’

He turned and left me standing alone in a sea of people. I looked around the room, embarrassed, self-conscious and confused.

I spotted Hornigold and Cheval in one corner, unable to conceal their amusement at the turn of events; Cheval even raised his glass to me. Jan stared, disapproval etched on to his features, and nobody else met my eye. Gazes darted away wherever I looked.

‘Be careful, Miss Gabriella,’ Klara spoke softly at my shoulder. ‘It seems you have an admirer. Mijnheer Erik won’t like that – be very careful around him.’

I looked at her and nodded at the concern I saw in her eyes, then took another glass of wine from the tray she held.

The rest of the wedding celebrations passed in a blur of strange faces and not-understood language. I didn’t feel much different as a married woman than I had as a girl – apart from Erik’s nocturnal visits, and those I could do without.

The household woke later on a Sunday and had a relaxed breakfast, then the three of us gathered in the library for prayers. As soon as I could escape, I found Klara and told her to come with me.

‘But where are we going, Miss Gabriella?’

‘You’ll see, Klara, I want to show you something.’

‘But I have much work to do,’ she protested.

‘The work can wait – you toil too hard as it is, I want us to have some fun today!’ I grabbed her arm and pulled her through the trees to the cliff top.

‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ I asked Klara. She nodded.

‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could sail away one day, just go?’

‘Go where?’

‘Anywhere we wanted,’ I said.

‘It’ll get better, Miss Gabriella, just give it time, you’ve only been married a week.’

I looked at Klara and gave her a small smile. I didn’t believe her, but appreciated her trying to cheer me. We stared out to sea a little longer, dreaming of the impossible, then I urged her along the cliff path to the beach.

Once on the sand, I kicked off my shoes, lifted my petticoats, and ran to the water, splashing in the shallows. ‘Come on, Klara!’ I laughed, urging her to follow me. She shook her head, but with a smile, and followed me to the water’s edge. She took off her shoes and jumped back as a small wave covered her toes.

I laughed at her. You act like you’ve never seen the sea before!’

She shrugged. ‘Not this close.’

‘But how?’ I was flabbergasted. ‘This is such a small island, and we live so close.’

She shrugged again. ‘I don’t have time. I work at the house every day, and when there is some time on a Sunday, I have much to do at my hut.’

I gasped. ‘Oh, Klara, I didn’t think. When you said you had a lot to do, I thought you meant at the house. Is Sunday your day off?’

She laughed. ‘I don’t have days off, but there’s usually a little time to clean my hut, wash my clothes . . .’ she tailed off, staring at the sand.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. Go if you want to,’ I said, embarrassed at my selfishness, my assumption that she’d be happy to come to the beach with me.

‘Soon,’ she said. She looked up at me with a smile, ‘I quite like this, the work can wait just a little while.’

I laughed and kicked water at her. She squealed and ran back to dry sand. I followed and sat next to her, laughing.

‘Mama! Mama!’

Startled, I looked round at the voice and saw a small boy scrambling down the cliff path. I squinted and realized I’d seen him before, at the sugar mill.

‘Who’s that?’

‘My son,’ Klara replied, without looking at me. She got up and went to meet the boy.

He was small, maybe four or five years old, and was much lighter skinned than Klara – not much darker than myself now that I’d spent a month or so in the Caribbean sun.

They spoke for a while, then the boy ran off, looking round at me before he started to climb.

Klara re-joined me on the sand. ‘He and Wilbert were worried, they couldn’t find me at the house.’

‘Wilbert?’ I asked.

‘He’s one of the field slaves – he was there at the wedding celebration.’

I remembered the dozen or so men dressed in the same livery Hans and Hendrik usually wore, and carrying trays of drinks and food.

‘I didn’t know you had a son,’ I said, shocked at how little I knew about this woman who was my main companion. ‘What’s his name?’

She glanced at me, then looked back out to sea. ‘Jan.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ She had spoken quietly and I thought I’d misheard.

She looked me in the eye. ‘Jan,’ she repeated, louder this time.

I stared at her, the implication of the name hitting me. I felt sick. ‘Jan,’ I repeated. ‘Oh, Klara.’ The revulsion I’d felt at first was swept aside by pity.

Klara looked out to sea again. ‘You know I was given to Mijnheer Erik for his sixteenth birthday – put into a pretty dress with a ribbon tied in my hair.’ She snorted with something like laughter. ‘My mama was so proud that I’d be working in the big house, and when I didn’t come home at night, she thought I had a nice room of my own. She wouldn’t listen to anyone who told her different.’

‘Not even when you told her?’

‘I couldn’t tell her what was happening, what Mijnheer Erik wanted from me every night. Her heart was already weak, all I could do for her was give her the fantasy.’

‘But, but, you said you were twelve?’

She nodded. ‘It didn’t matter to Mijnheer Erik – I was just a slave girl to do with as he wished – my age didn’t matter.’

‘And you had a son.’

‘Yes, I had a son – I didn’t know about the tea then. Mijnheer Erik left me alone when my belly started to grow – and his father ignored me. In fact, I think he was pleased – they would have a free slave!’

I turned away, unable to look at the expression on her face. ‘But why did you call him Jan? You were forced! Surely calling him Jan celebrated his father?’

She laughed; a desperate sound with no humour in it. ‘I was young. I thought by calling him Jan they would recognize him as blood – show him favour, maybe even free him.’

‘They didn’t,’ I guessed.

She made the laughing noise again. ‘No, they didn’t. They put him to work as soon as he turned four. He’s been weeding and picking up sugarcane after the harvest for two years already. Wilbert does his best to keep an eye on him, but he comes home covered in injuries.

I thought back to the boy I’d seen. I could hardly believe he was six years old – he certainly didn’t look strong enough to do a day’s work.

‘He’s stronger than he looks,’ Klara said. ‘He needs to be.’

I looked at her in sympathy.

‘Mijnheer Jan hates him; hates that I named him for him. If it weren’t for Mijnheer Erik, I’m sure he’d have killed us both a long time ago.’

‘What? Why?’

‘If you name someone for a Dutchman, you give the child a piece of their soul.’

‘What?’ I didn’t understand.

‘Mijnheer Jan believes that by naming my son Jan, I have stolen part of his soul and given it to the boy.’ She looked at me. ‘He wants it back.’

I felt cold and shivered. I remembered the way my father-in-law had been with Klara on the ship, and the way he’d spoken to her since.

‘And Erik is protecting you?’ I asked.

She nodded. ‘For the moment, at least. But now you’re here, I don’t know what to expect. I had hoped they’d both mellow with a new mistress of the house, but—’ she paused and stared at the waves.

‘At least he gave me to you when you came. Mijnheer Jan can’t dispose of us if we’re not his. But if Mijnheer Erik grows tired of us—’ she paused again and I noticed tears running down her face. She turned to me.

‘If you have a child, he
will
tire of Jan, and my son will die.’

‘Oh, Klara.’ I thought of the little boy who had scrambled down the cliff path to his mama, and tears ran from my own eyes. I didn’t want Erik’s child, not at the moment, anyway. But what if that changed? I may want a child one day, but if Klara was telling the truth – and I did believe her – then the birth of my child could mean the death of hers.