Pirate's Golden Promise (37 page)

A month after their wedding, the ice started to break up in the North River.
S
oon Wynter noticed a number of sloops making their way to New Amsterdam. The weather, though still quite cold, was bearable when the sun warmed the landscape and colored it with its yellow hue.

Wynter began to love Lindenwyck, the warmth of their neighbors who paid unexpected calls, the kindness of Lindenwyck's farmers. She also grew fond of Gerta. The woman was friendly, and Lyntje responded to her from the first minute Gerta held her in her arms. Sometimes Wynter caught Gerta watching Rolfe with eyes of love, and Wynter knew then that her first impression about Gerta had been correct. She loved Rolfe. How Rolfe felt about her, Wynter didn't know. But she hoped that if Rolfe and Gerta were lovers, Rolfe found some happiness with the woman. Certainly he didn't find any contentment with Katrina.

Wynter and Katrina had called an unspoken truce, or so it seemed. Katrina was never outwardly hostile to her. In fact, at the table she was quite pleasant. Though Katrina attempted to mask her feelings, Wynter realized that she still loved Cort, and she pitied her. She knew now that Cort didn't love Katrina and would never return the emotion. However, Wynter was puzzled as to why Katrina suddenly seemed to take an interest in Mikel and bragged to Cort about how the boy's governess exclaimed over his intelligence. At one point, Katrina even ordered Vrouw Tyssen into the room to tell Cort herself about Mikel's progress in the classroom. At other times, she'd encourage Mikel to engage Cort in a game of nine pins or cards.

Wynter found this behavior baffling, and soon realized that whenever Cort held and played with Lyntje, Katrina and Mikel were near at hand.

One early March afternoon, a servant called Wynter from the nursery with the news that a visitor had arrived. “It must be Vrouw Andressen,” Wynter said to Gerta. “She told me last week at church that she might pay her respects this week.”

She hurried downstairs, her housewife's keys clinking at her waist. The large smile on her face wilted when she beheld her guest, sitting primly in the sitting room. Though Lucy had on a cloak with hood, Wynter would have known her sister anywhere.

Lucy stood up when Wynter entered the room.

“Don't look so horrified, Wynter. I'm really here.”

“I can't believe it. What are you doing at Lindenwyck?”

“Begging.” Lucy pulled the hood from her head to reveal a few auburn tendrils which had escaped the tight knot of hair at the nape of her neck.

“Lucy, tell me what happened.”

Wynter sat next to her sister and listened to the news of Debra's death, of how Adam had gambled everything away until the debts had to be paid with Somerset House and McChesney Manor. “There are still many debts that haven't been paid,” Lucy told her. “I doubt if they will ever be, but I shall not stay married to him another minute. I intend to file for divorce, annulment … whatever I can get without a great deal of difficulty. Do you think you can let me stay here awhile, Wynter? I'd like to start life anew.”

Wynter felt touched that Lucy would confide in her. Of course, Lucy might be using her to escape an unpleasant situation at home, but Wynter sensed that Lucy had come to her because she cared about her. Wynter wouldn't turn her out, no matter what had happened in the past.

“I'd be delighted for you to stay here. Cort will be glad to see you again.”

Lucy giggled. “Captain Van Linden is your husband. I can't believe you married that man, but, Wynter, I think he is a good man, a better man than Lord Somerset could ever hope to be. Fate plays tricks on us sometimes.”

Wynter could attest to that sentiment. Though gladness to see Lucy again filled her, her eyes misted with tears. “McChesney manor is lost to us now.”

“Yes. Lost as if it never existed.”

“One more reason why I loathe Somerset.”

“Dear Wynter, I have a thousand reasons to detest the man!”

Their conversation was interrupted by Dirk, who appeared in the doorway.

“Sorry, vrouw,” he said and doffed his cap after Wynter introduced him to Lucy. “But I have finished the wooden rocking horse for Lyntje. It is in the vestibule.”

Wynter exclaimed over the superb craftsmanship after she and Lucy followed Dirk to examine the hand-crafted horse. “You do lovely work with your hands,” Lucy complimented him.

“He always has. Dirk makes many of the furnishings at Lindenwyck now,” Wynter told her. Seeing a servant, Wynter halted the woman and followed her up the stairs to help prepare a room for Lucy.

Lucy watched in fascination as Dirk's hands moved over the smooth wood, stroking it like a lover. She found Dirk to be a rather unkempt-looking man. His hair was stringy and long, and most certainly his clothes needed mending. But when he looked up and smiled shyly at her, her heart melted.

“You have strong but gentle hands,” she said without thinking.

He appeared offended and stood up. Grabbing the wooden horse, he made a slight bow and scurried from the room like a frightened mouse.

Lucy didn't see Dirk again for the next few days, but whenever she chanced to think about him, she imagined his hands moving across the wood … moving across her own body.

The sound of barking dogs roused Wynter from dreamy slumber. Turning onto her side to snuggle against Cort's warmth, she found only the chill of the sheets.

She opened her eyes. The hearth fire had long since burned out and a damp chill permeated the room. She noticed that the bedroom door had been thrown open in apparent haste and that Cort's wardrobe door was ajar. Getting out of bed, she pulled on her slippers and robe and went out into the dark hall.

All was silent except for relentless barking of the dogs. She shivered and found her way down the two flights of stairs to the vestibule. Lena stood with a candle by the front door and peered into the starless night.

“Has something happened?” Wynter asked in alarm when she noticed the flicker of torches streaming like comets across the grounds.

Lena nodded, her night cap bobbing slightly with the motion. “Someone sneaked into the smokehouse and stole a ham. One of the servants saw the man and reported the theft to Rolfe. Rolfe has called the dogs on the thief.” Lena clucked her tongue. Wynter felt that those were extreme measures for a ham. She inquired as to Cort's whereabouts.

“On the lawn. He refuses to hunt down the man and is much upset by Rolfe's tactics.” Lena raised her hands in a gesture of futility. “But Rolfe is the patroon and must be obeyed.”

Pulling her robe closer about her, Wynter rushed outside, oblivious to Lena's call to stay inside the house. She noticed Cort immediately, and when he saw her, he frowned.

“You should not be outside. The night is cold, and you might catch a chill.”

“I wanted to see what was happening,” she told him.

He placed a protective, warm arm around her shoulders. “My cousin is protecting his domain, I fear, in the worst possible way. The dogs were used when my uncle was alive only to hunt down those who stole something of value, or to track down rebellious Indians. Never to kill a hungry man.”

“You must stop him,” Wynter urged.

“I tried, but Rolfe wouldn't listen to me.”

They waited with arms around one another until the voices of men and growling dogs, heard in the distance, grew closer. Rolfe stalked ahead of a group of tenants who carried the prone figure of a man. She recognized two of the men who led the dogs on leashes as Larsen and Fredrik, the tenants who controlled the animals. In the gleam from the torches, Wynter saw a devilish spark of triumph in Rolfe's eyes. But when he realized she watched him in repugnance, he stopped still. The men placed the dead man on the cold ground before the patroon.

The picture of the bleeding man was more than Wynter could bear. She turned her head away from the gruesome sight but felt Rolfe's hand on her arm. “I'm sorry you had to see such a scene, Wynter, but this man must be a lesson to all that no one steals from Lindenwyck.”

“The man may have been hungry, Rolfe. He might have needed to feed his family. There was no need to use such deplorable means to catch a thief.”

Rolfe's face hardened. “I see you mimic your husband's sentiments.”

“Wynter has a mind of her own,” Cort interjected, none too gently.

“I want to go inside.” Wynter laid her face against Cort's chest.

Cort and Wynter turned to leave, but she heard Rolfe's voice and trembled because his words sounded ominous, like a warning directed towards her and Cort. “No one steals anything which is mine and lives.”

“I fear Rolfe is slightly insane,” Cort told her after they were in bed and safe in each other's arms.

Wynter thought that Rolfe was very sane and very heartless.

“Do you think we have enough food?”

Wynter looked up from packing her picnic basket at Lena's question and laughed. “I fear if we eat all we've packed, we shall turn into fat toads.”

Lena surveyed the many baskets containing poultry and pork and various vegetables, plucked fresh from Lindenwyck's gardens. “Ja, but I hope there's enough for everyone. Today is special to the tenants of Lindenwyck. Ever since that awful incident with the thief a few months ago, I fear some of our tenants hold the man's death against Rolfe.”

Wynter didn't blame them if they did. Even though the man hadn't belonged to Lindenwyck, but was simply a hungry traveler who'd stolen, that didn't stop the condemning looks she'd noticed on people's faces when she rode across the patroonship with Cort.

When all was ready, two servants helped them load the baskets into a cart. Mary and Gerta, with Lyntje in her arms, joined them in the yard. The baby fussed and couldn't be comforted until Cort appeared and took her from her nurse. She settled down, looking like an angel in a white dress with matching bonnet.

Lucy came out of the house, and to Wynter's surprise, she insisted on helping. During the past few months since Lucy's arrival, Wynter realized that her sister had changed. Gone was the sullen girl who had constantly hurled insults at Wynter when they were children. In her stead, Wynter saw a more composed Lucy, a Lucy who could be quite sweet and charming when she wished to be. Also, Lucy took more notice of her appearance, even allowing Mary to curl her hair, which was one thing she used to detest. Wynter wondered at the reason for this transformation.

“Rolfe and Katrina shall be along later,” Lucy informed the others. “But Mikel shall join us shortly.”

Before the words were barely out of Lucy's mouth, Mikel came tearing through the open half doors. He was dressed like a peasant with a straw hat on his head, and he grinned from ear to ear, clapping his hands in anticipation of the picnic to follow.

By the time all was set up on a hillside overlooking the river, the tenants had gathered and everyone was devouring the food. Cort had earlier set up a swing on a large oak tree for Wynter and the baby.

Wynter sat on the swing beneath the many branches and crooned softly to Lyntje. The child had refused to nurse earlier and now seemed to grow fussier at her favorite tune. “Should I take baby back to house?” Gerta asked Wynter.

“Yes.” Wynter handed Lyntje to her. “We'll be along before dark.”

Wynter watched as a servant helped Gerta and the baby into a cart for the ride back to Lindenwyck. “I wonder what ails her,” Wynter mused aloud.

“The baby will be fine,” Cort assured her and swung the swing gently back and forth. He bent forward and kissed the back of Wynter's neck. “Her absence gives me time with her mother.”

“What a thing to say!”

“I'm only human, and a man in love with his wife.”

Wynter sighed her contentment. Everything was going so well. She was deliriously happy, and the day was going smoothly … made even more so by the absence of Katrina and Rolfe. She wondered why the patroon and his lady hadn't put in an appearance, but she didn't care. The friendly tenants more than made up for them.

She watched Lucy in conversation with one of the tenants, again marveling at the change in her. In England, Lucy would never have thought of smiling at someone below her station, much less speaking to an inferior. Then the reason became clearer than a sparkling brook when Dirk hesitantly walked over to where Lucy stood. Wynter had to blink twice to realize that the man with the clean and shortened hair, dressed in a sturdy but good pair of trousers and a lace-fringed shirt with black vest, was Dirk.

Cort saw her look of disbelief. “I loaned Dirk one of my old shirts and pants,” Cort said. “He even had Mary trim his hair. It seems that Dirk and Lucy are courting.”

“No!”

Cort nodded. “And very much in love, too.”

From the large but gentle smile on Lucy's face, and the way Dirk put an arm around her waist, Wynter knew without a doubt that these two mismatched people were deeply in love. She didn't know when this had happened, but her heart sang for gladness. Dirk was a fine man, and Lucy had grown into a caring and loving woman. At last, someone had deposed Adam in her sister's heart.

Rolfe showed up minutes later, an ugly frown on his forehead which deepened when his gaze fell on Wynter's laughing face, turned upwards to Cort's. The morning hadn't gone well for him. He'd caught Katrina and her stable boy in bed again. Was the woman insatiable? he wondered. He held nothing against young Fredrik. The boy couldn't be blamed for falling under Katrina's spell. In fact, he liked Fredrik and thought he was quite an expert at handling the dogs. Rolfe, however, had waited until Fredrik departed and then he marched into Katrina's room. He ranted, he raved. He felt like a fool. She only shrugged her pretty shoulders and laughed at him before she burrowed beneath the sheets.