The Black Morass (Pirates of the Coast Book 1) (13 page)

For a few minutes, she pondered the day’s events and her father’s dastardly plan to steal the Crawford estate, and an idea formed in her brain.  “My cherished husband, I am famished, and I will eat whatever you can manage.  But as to your proposal, thank you, but no.  We are not leaving.

THE BLACK MORASS

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“This hearing shall
come to order.”  A bailiff dressed in a peacock uniform and a powdered wig hammered the floor with the friendly end of what appeared to be some sort of medieval battle-axe, in the main courthouse in Port Royal.  “Please rise for the Honorable Judge John Abrams.”

The attendees stood.

The repetitive hammer of the gavel brought the proceeding to order, and Madalene’s father loomed beside his solicitor as the jurist read several documents.

“We have come here, today, to discuss the petition by Lord Nigel Davies, Earl of Livingston, to declare his daughter, Lady Madalene Davies, missing and presumed deceased.  And in the matter of the Fair Winds plantation, as well as Lady Madalene’s estate, I hold an order for probate and immediate transfer of all assets into Lord Livingston’s care, custody, and control.”  The judge removed his spectacles and wrinkled his nose.  “Are there any witnesses present to provide into evidence any reason why I should not forthwith grant Lord Livingston’s request?”

“I shall swear testimony to that effect.”  In a proud moment he would never forget, Jean Marc trailed in Maddie’s wake, as she charged the bench, along with a solicitor, Mr. Holcomb, she engaged to represent her cause.

“And who would you be?” Judge Abrams inquired.

His haughty society miss thrust her chin.  “Lady Madalene Davies.”

And all hell broke loose.

With fingers pointing in every direction, and accusations flying, the judge convened a small gathering of the interested parties and their attorneys, to which Jean Marc was not invited.

Pacing in the courtroom, he laughed as Livingston’s voice reverberated from the inner chamber, and he scowled at Lady Prudence, who also remained in the gallery.  Then four redcoats entered from the rear, and Jean Marc tugged at his collar.  When the soldiers assumed positions at either side of him, he nodded once and smiled.

After almost half an hour, the parties emerged, and Maddie’s glow declared her victory.  “My love, it is too wonderful.  While Papa thought he won the day, the judge reviewed the parcel of documents I brought from Boston, which bore my signature.  To prove my identity, Judge Abrams bade me sign my name, which I did, and of course it matched, perfectly.  But I must write my attorney in America for additional support, and Father has been given a month to prove his case.”

“That is wonderful,
Mon Chou
.”

The judge brought the courtroom to attention and cleared his throat.  “Given some discrepancies in Lord Livingston’s petition, I shall defer any final ruling pending an appeal.  Lord Livingston may maintain the residence hereby designated as the Fair Winds Plantation, until such time as he has exhausted all appeals.  And the party identified as Lady Madalene Davies shall produce, in one month’s time, additional verification of rightful ownership of said property.  All other holdings in the Crawford estate shall remain in their current state.”  Then Judge Abrams pinned Jean Marc with an icy glare.  “It has come to this court’s attention that the criminal known as Jean Marc Cavalier, forthwith known as the defendant, is present.  I hereby direct the bailiff to take the defendant into custody, to be charged for crimes against the Crown.”

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Madalene almost fainted.

When they traveled to the courthouse that day, all she thought about was her inheritance.  Never did she consider the threat to Jean Marc, given his history.  How could she have been so blind?

“Have Tyne take you back to Boston, as it is over for us,
Mon Chou
.”  After Jean Marc calmly kissed her, he faced the advancing soldiers and held out his hands.  “Gentlemen, I have to wish to cause any trouble.  Indeed, I surrender into your safekeeping.”

“No.”  When she tried to reach her husband, a redcoat stepped in her path.  “You are mistaken.  He has changed.”  In a panic, she attempted to shove the soldier, but he stood his ground, as Jean Marc was led away.  “Please.”  She approached the bench.  “Judge Abrams, my husband is a good and decent man.  I know he made mistakes in the past, but he is no longer a pirate.”

“Be that as it may, the defendant owes a debt to society, and it must be paid.”  The judge pushed from his chair and frowned.  “I recommend you retain the services of your solicitor, as your husband will need representation.”

“Wait.”  In blind desperation, she grabbed his arm.  “I beg you, a word, sir.  There are extenuating circumstances that I am not at liberty to share in public.”

“I have no time to waste, Lady Madalene.”  He shifted his weight.  “You will tell me, here and now, else we are done.”

Given her father and Lady Prudence lingered, Madalene bent and whispered in the judge’s ear, and he gasped in surprise.  “As a servant of the Crown, you must acknowledge my husband’s newfound status, sir.  Pray, give me ample opportunity to gather proof of what I say and witnesses to speak on Jean Marc’s behalf.”

“If you speak the truth, then I am compelled to do so.”  Judge Abrams furrowed his brow.  “In light of the requisite travel associated with your claim, you have two months, Lady Madalene.”

“Thank you.”  She clutched her hands to her bosom.  “Thank you, so much.”

And then dashed outside.  At the road, she glanced left and then right.  Lurking beneath a shade tree, Tyne chuckled and slapped a member of the crew on the back.  When the first mate spotted her, he lurched upright.

“What is it, Madalene?”  He peered over her shoulder.  “And where is Jean Marc?”

“He as been arrested.”  She swallowed hard.  “And I need you to take me to the
Black Morass
.”

THE BLACK MORASS

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Cavalier, you are
commanded to appear before the magistrate.”  A redcoat unlocked the cell, and the door creaked and groaned in protest, as he set wide the bars.  “If you will follow me, you are to bathe, shave, and dress for the appointment.”

Since Jean Marc did not think the English washed and cleaned their convicts before they hung them, he supposed it was the final meeting, whereupon he would be sentenced for his crimes.  Resolved to meet his date with destiny in the spirit in which he lived, he did as his jailer bade.

To his surprise, he found a pair of black leather breeches and a white linen shirt draped on a chair, and new boots, polished to perfection, rested near the hearth.  By the razor on the washstand, he located a thong, which he used to pull back his hair.  Looking more like himself, he lingered by a window and gazed at the yard, where prisoners took their exercise, and wondered if he would ever hold Maddie in his arms again.

In the two months since his arrest, her visits were limited to a few short conversations through the bars of his confinement, and it was the separation that tormented him most.  But in the solitude of his captivity, he realized he had to prepare her for the worst.

He had committed some horrible deeds in his lifetime, and the ferryman called for his due.  If he had known what fate had in store for him, that he would happen upon a beautiful society miss in distress, and she would rescue him, he would have tried harder to redeem himself.  But it was too late to undo the crimes of his youthful ignorance and adult vengeance.

“Are you ready, Cavalier?”  The soldier stood at attention.

“Aye.”  He nodded once.  “Let us get on with it.”

A narrow passage led to the processing room, where the redcoat paused to sign a document.

“Hold out your hands.”  A jailer shackled Jean Marc.

A black carriage with iron bars on the windows conveyed Jean Marc and the lobster to the courthouse, and Maddie, along with Mr. Holcomb, waited on the stairs.  When Jean Marc disembarked, she framed his face and kissed him.

“Oh, my love, it is so good to see you.”  Then she noted the iron manacles, frowned, and cast a wicked glare at the soldier.  “Is this necessary?”

“Afraid so.”  The redcoat clutched Jean Marc by the elbow.  “Let us go inside.”

In the courtroom, the judge spoke with two gentlemen, one of whom Jean Marc recognized.  “What is Sir Ross Logan doing here?”

“Shh.”  Maddie held a finger to her lips.  “Sit down, and smile, as I would rather you not seem so menacing.”

The proceedings continued for several minutes, and Logan gestured wildly on a couple of occasion.  Every now and then, the judge peered at Jean Marc, and he adopted his best pose, in obeisance of Maddie’s request.  Then Sir Ross strolled past Jean Marc and sat beside Madalene.

The judge pounded his gavel.  “Let us come to order.”  He removed his spectacles and steepled his hands.  “In light of recent evidence in support of the former pirate known as Jean Marc Cavalier, hereafter referred to as the defendant, it is the court’s opinion that the defendant should be set free to continue the terms of the pact sworn by an agent of His Majesty, with the understanding that any future crimes committed will not be subject to the terms of the pardon, and the defendant shall be remanded into custody to be tried under the law, as would any citizen.  The defendant is free to go.”

In that moment, Maddie squealed with unabashed delight, and he turned directly into her arms.  “Thank you,
Mon Chou
.”  Then Jean Marc extended a hand in friendship.  “And I owe you a debt, Sir Ross.  But how did you know to come here?”