My Sister's Prayer (47 page)

“I'll go see what the problem is,” Jonathan said.

Celeste wasn't sure if it was her imagination or not, but Constable Wharton didn't seem surprised to have Jonathan butt into the conversation. He just looked annoyed—especially with Spenser. Then he threw up his arms and marched toward the village.

Celeste exhaled, glad to see him go. She rose as Jonathan approached, chuckling.

“What's going on?”

“Spenser was trying to trick Wharton out of your ring.”

“Why?” But as soon as she asked she knew. Spenser wanted it for Berta.

Jonathan shrugged. “He says it's worth more than the contract. That Wharton swindled Emmanuel.”

“Is there hope Spenser will be able to get the ring?” She hated the thought of Wharton keeping it.

“I doubt it,” Jonathan answered, a sly smile on his face. “It seems Wharton is now claiming that the ring was fair trade for Berta's contract.”

Celeste puzzled over the problem of the ring. “Did you tell Emmanuel that you bought my contract?”

“Not yet. He wants to speak with you.”

Of course he did. “Will you come with me?”

Jonathan nodded.

Celeste told Sary to stay put. Then she followed Jonathan to the dock, stepping around the hogshead barrels full of tobacco that had come off the
York
. They would most likely be loaded onto the
Royal Mary
for her eventual return trip to England.

Emmanuel greeted Celeste with a kiss, but Berta held back. “Sister,” Celeste said, moving toward her.

Berta didn't budge.

“I'm sorry, Berta.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“Not listening. Not trying to understand.”

Berta nodded toward Jonathan. “What's he doing here?”

“He bought my contract. We're headed to Carolina. We plan to marry in Charles Town.”

Berta's brown eyes flashed. “He's using you, Celeste.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He's a scoundrel.”

“No, there was just a misunderstanding—”

Berta shook her head. “He doesn't do anything that doesn't profit him. He wants something from you. Just wait and see.”

Celeste hesitated, not wanting to sound prideful. But then she said, “I'll be his wife. He loves me.”

Berta shook her head. “He only loves himself.”

Celeste held her tongue. Clearly, Berta still had feelings for Jonathan, feelings that hadn't been returned. She couldn't blame her sister for that, no matter how hurtful Berta's lie had been.

Yet…staring into her sister's fiery eyes, Celeste had a moment of doubt. What if she hadn't been lying? No, Celeste couldn't dwell on that. She had wagered her life, and Sary's too, on Jonathan. It was essential she support her soon-to-be husband.

Celeste turned toward Jonathan, who was speaking with Emmanuel and explaining that he had bought Celeste's contract. Spenser shot her a concerned look. She nodded at him, trying to communicate that she was in agreement. Even as she did, her heart lurched in longing for the man she really wanted, the one she would never marry. This kind of torment was a new emotion for her—one she feared she might be living with for the rest of her life.

She stepped forward to reassure her brother. “Now you have no concerns about money, Emmanuel.”

He didn't answer but turned back toward Jonathan. “Where did you say you're going?”

“Carolina.”

Emmanuel looked to George, who shrugged in answer to an unasked question.

“So are you married, then, already?” Spenser directed the question to Jonathan.

“No. We'll marry once we reach Charles Town, in the Huguenot church there.”

Spenser's face grew pale. He turned toward Celeste. “Can we speak privately?”

She nodded and followed him a few feet away.

He whispered, “So you don't love George?”

She shook her head.

“And you still love Jonathan?”

She didn't answer. It didn't matter whether or not she still loved Jonathan. She'd already sacrificed everything she had for him. He was the only pragmatic choice left for her.

Spenser cleared his throat.

“It's none of your business,” Celeste whispered, taking a step back. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, guilt surged through her. “I'm sorry.” She met his gaze. “That was unkind of me. You deserve better.”

He shrugged, the hurt clear on his face.

“You have Berta.” Celeste's voice faltered. “You'll be fine.”

“I have Berta? Is that what you've thought all along?”

Celeste nodded, her heart aching so badly she feared it might break. Why did he have to have such kind eyes? Such a caring face? Such internal strength? All she wanted, in all the world, was to step into his embrace.

Spenser's eyes narrowed. “Is that why I went to the jail to try to win your freedom? Is that why I stayed at your side while you were in the pillory?”

Celeste nodded again.

“For Berta?”

“Yes,” she answered, keeping her voice as low as she could, trying not to cry. “Isn't that why you want the ring back in the family? So you can give it to Berta?”

Spenser gazed past her, out toward the bay, his jaw set. “You're certain you no longer have feelings for George.”

“I am.”

They both looked at George, who had stepped to Berta's side. Perhaps, in retaliation for Celeste not believing her about Jonathan, Berta had shifted her affections, hoping to hurt Celeste again. It wasn't going to work. She had no feelings for George whatsoever.

But Spenser did care about Berta. Suddenly, Celeste's heart ached in a new way, for poor Spenser and how badly this must be hurting him. Berta was a fool, spurning a man like him, with all his depth and sweetness and wisdom, for a clod like George.

She glanced again at Spenser and saw that his eyes were blank, his expression drawn.

“You'll take Berta back to Williamsburg with you, then? And Emmanuel and George will return to England?”

Spenser shook his head. “No, we'd all planned to go back to Williamsburg, at least for the time being…”

That made sense. Emmanuel would want to make sure Berta was settled first before he left the New World for good, even though he no longer needed to go to Williamsburg on Celeste's account. Feeling awkward but not knowing what more to say, Celeste was relieved when she saw Captain Bancroft approaching the group. Without another word, she turned and moved back to the others.

“Lieutenant Gray,” the captain called out. “How fine to see you again. And with Mr. Talbot. I didn't realize you two were acquainted.”

“We are now,” Jonathan said. “In fact, he will soon be my brother-in-law.”

“Oh. Well, then. You must not be marrying the plantation owner's daughter after all.”

“No, that's behind me, thankfully. I've been given a land grant in
Carolina. Miss Talbot and I will wed in Charles Town. We'll be joining you on the
Royal Mary
.”

“Really? Which Talbot sister did you decide on?”

Berta cleared her throat. Celeste shot Jonathan a look, but he either didn't see it or chose not to acknowledge it. Surely Captain Bancroft was jesting and had no idea he was inadvertently supporting Berta's claim.

Jonathan smiled. “Both Talbot sisters are beautiful, and honestly I'm not worthy of either. That said, I've only ever had eyes for the elder.”

The amusing tone in Captain Bancroft's voice disappeared. “Is that so?” He glanced at Celeste and then back at Jonathan. “Would you walk with me, please?”

As the two went to the end of the wharf together, Celeste excused herself, stepped away, and then began retreating back toward the boat. She was suddenly eager to be apart from all of them—Spenser with his broken heart, Berta with her cruel ways, George with his…Georgeness.

She needed to move their things and Sary to the
Royal Mary
anyway before the
York
left on its return trip up the James. Once she'd done that, she would collect herself and go back and tell Emmanuel and Berta farewell in a more rational frame of mind.

When she boarded the boat, Celeste saw that Sary had gathered her bundle and was holding it in her good hand. With a nod, Celeste grabbed Jonathan's bags and led the way to the
Royal Mary
. First Mate Hayes greeted them. Celeste thanked him for delivering the letter.

He nodded. “You come from a good—and wealthy—family.”

Celeste bowed her head, not wanting to discuss her parents' means.

“I was surprised you would venture so far away when you would be so well cared for at home.”

When Celeste didn't answer, Hayes shook his head in disbelief. Then he directed Sary to a spot on the starboard side.

“I'll bring you back some food,” Celeste told her, turning to go.

“Wait.” Sary spoke in English.

Celeste spun around. Sary hadn't said a word since the incident in the kitchen, the day she was burned.

Sary motioned for Celeste to step closer. In a whisper she said in French, “That captain isn't a good man.”

Celeste hesitated, confused. “He's been helpful to me. He was sympathetic about Berta.” Granted, his comments just now on the dock were a little odd, but he was being facetious, she was sure. Someone must have told him about Berta's lie. She didn't understand the ways of men, but Jonathan seemed to get the joke.

Sary shook her head. “That Wharton is a bad man too. In fact, they seem to be in on things together. Maybe with Mr. Horn. And maybe even…” Her voice trailed off and she tightly pursed her lips, as if to hold in the rest of her words.

“In on things?” Celeste repeated. “What things?”

She expected Sary to be embarrassed, but instead the woman leaned forward, her expression growing determined as she spoke in a low voice. “They trick girls to get them on the ship. Then once those girls arrive here, they have no choice but to work. There's good money to be made in the buying and selling of contracts. Of young women—whether they actually want to come here or not.”

Celeste felt an odd fluttering in her stomach. “What are you saying?” she asked, her mouth suddenly dry. “They trick girls? How?”

“They lie to them. In some cases, they even kidnap them. Whatever it takes to get the girls over here. And then they are stuck. Just like you.”

Celeste's head began to spin. She reached for the railing to steady herself. “How do you know all this?”

Sary shrugged. “I listened. You'd be amazed at how much one can hear from a well-placed drying hut.”

Celeste frowned. The drying hut? She thought for a moment and then it struck her: The bench where the men liked to congregate and smoke and talk was well within hearing distance of Sary's hut. Often she would gather her dry herbs after a meal when conversations were taking place on the bench just over the fence.

“Didn't anyone ever see you over there, listening?” Celeste asked, aghast that Sary would take such risks.

“People don't really see slaves in that way. Besides, everyone knows I speak only French. As long as they conversed in English, I'm sure they
thought they were free to talk about whatever they wanted, even if I was nearby.”

Celeste wasn't surprised. She'd figured out some time ago that Sary understood English far better than she let on.

“Anyway,” Sary continued, “not only have I heard the men talking, but I actually know a couple of Irish girls in the West Indies who never stopped insisting they were kidnapped. Then there was an English housemaid who ran away from a plantation near Jamestown a few months ago, claiming she'd been tricked into coming here. Mr. Horn found her and beat her badly, and then he took her down here to Norfolk. Last I heard, she'd been forced to work as a maid for Constable Wharton himself.”

Of course. That must be the same girl she'd met in the Wharton's house that night she and Spenser spoke to the constable's wife and traded the ring for Berta's contract.

“And there's your situation with Lieutenant Gray, and him getting you over here on false pretenses.”

Celeste bristled. “Our love was not false! Didn't he prove that in the end by buying my contract? By asking me to marry him?”

Sary again pursed her lips, offering no reply.

“He even bought and freed you,” Celeste added defensively.

Sary looked away, a glimmer of hurt in her eyes, probably at the thought that Celeste would believe Jonathan's word over hers. “Most likely he's hoping I'll be able to cook again. I don't doubt, if I stay, he'll figure out some way to take my freedom away too. And he'll buy slaves, probably here in Norfolk, before we leave.”