A Fair Pretender Page 8

Evelyn wasn’t reading now, simply staring at the page. The atmosphere was strained and she quivered with the tension his presence had generated in her. What a sensitive little creature she was.

  He crossed to where she stood and took the book from her lap. ‘Do you know how to deliver babies?’

  She looked up then, her tawny eyes wide with surprise. ‘Why yes … I have assisted women to give birth.’

  He grinned, and only just managed to abstain from giving her a relieved hug. ‘Remember those slaves I told you about? One of them is giving birth. She’s very young, and frightened. Can you help?’

  ‘You were telling the truth, then?’

  Must she sound so astonished? He nodded. ‘I always tell the truth. It compensates for the dishonestly of my forebears.’

  She smiled a little at that, and rose to her feet, her face composed. ‘I’ll fetch my cloak and boots.’

  ‘I’ll send Jessie with some breeches and hose to wear under your cloak. It will be easier to navigate the tunnels.’

  He was pleased she remained incurious, for he had no inclination to answer questions about his activities. Either she accepted the situation as nothing out of the ordinary, or she didn’t.

  Now it was her turn to nod. ‘Do we have any shawls, or a crib for the infant.’

  ‘There are blankets to wrap the child in and there’s a large basket to use as a crib. Edmund will go on ahead with them.’

  The breeches and hose must have survived Saville’s youth, Graine thought a few minutes later as she pulled them on, for they wouldn’t have fit him now. They didn’t fit her, either. She had to tie them to her waist with a scarf to keep them from falling down.

  ‘Fancy dressing you like a boy? Of all the crazy ideas he comes up with,’ Jessie grumbled.

  ‘He said it would make it easier for me to navigate the tunnels.’

  Jessie shuddered. ‘Mayhap, but you wouldn’t catch me going into the tunnels. One of the servants was lost down there in the late earl’s time. His body was never found. Another was drowned when he was carried off by water flooding through the tunnels.’

  Graine shivered. ‘I’m sure the earl wouldn’t take me down there if he didn’t think it was safe.’

  Jessie’s eyes speculated on her face for a moment. ‘There’s that, of course. He wouldn’t let you come to no harm. Anyone can see he’s fair mazed by you.’

  Warmth trickled into her cheeks. ‘I’m sure that’s not true, Jessie.’

  Jessie cackled. ‘Sure is as sure ain’t and truth is in the eye of the beholder. The pair of you are moonstruck, for all the world to see. He’s on his best behavior, but a body can see the wolf prowling in him. And you are on yours like as not, like as not, but blushing like a rose every time he sets his eyes on you with that man look of his. You’ll be mistress of this place afore too long. Just you wait and see.’

  ‘Nonsense. The Earl of Sedgely is too far above me in social standing.’

  ‘Yon earl doesn’t set much stock on such notions.’

  ‘I’m promised to his cousin,’ she reminded Jessie.

  ‘Aye, there’s that, but a girl like you has too much spirit for John Lamartine. I reckon the master knows that. Much as he’s trying to behave like a gentleman, deep down he’s taken your measure. Chances are that he’ll keep you for himself.’

  Graine recalled the routing Saville had served her with earlier in the day. Her ears burned at the thought that she’d more or less indicated she was his for the asking. If he’d cared for her he’d have taken advantage of that moment.

  ‘You’re wrong, and I might have something to say about that,’ she said more briskly than she felt. ‘He’s being charming to me because I’m his guest. He’s being a perfect gentleman in fact.’

  ‘Earl’s got his father’s hot blood in him,’ Jessie said with a snort. ‘He could charm the devil out of hell if’ he put his mind to the task. He’s all man when he needs to be, and you’d do well to keep that in mind.’

  ‘You’re being too familiar about your master,’ she told her.

  Jessie grinned as she removed Graine’s cap to sprinkle a few drops of perfume against her scalp. The length of her hair was fashioned into a loose braid down her back and tied with a pink ribbon. ‘There my dear; you look right pretty, despite the breeches.’

  Which were light and unrestricting, affording her a certain amount of freedom, Graine thought, as she ran down the stairs to where Saville waiting for her.

  Excitement grew in her as they made their way to the outbuilding in the orchard. Saville locked the door behind them. When he threw open a trapdoor in the herb room she bit her lip at the sight of the steps leading down into darkness.

  Saville picked up the lantern, which had been left burning for them. ‘There are twenty-two steps and they are almost vertical. I’ll go down first and wait for you at the bottom. You’ll be able to see the glow from the lantern.’

  ‘Promise you’ll wait.’

  He grazed his knuckles gently against her cheek and smiled. ‘Don’t go faint-hearted on me, my Eve. I’m depending on you.’ With that, he swung himself into the hole and disappeared.

  She followed more slowly, her heart thumping painfully against her ribs, for she disliked the feeling of enclosure that the quietness of the earth pressing around her brought. She emerged into a tiny chamber and gave a small glad cry to see Saville so soon again.

  ‘Good girl,’ he said, the planes of his face brought into relief by the lantern, so he looked slightly devilish.

  They were standing so close that their bodies were almost touching. Indeed, the place was so small she began to feel entombed. ‘I like it not down here, Saville,’ she admitted, her voice trembling with the panic she was trying to hold in check.

  ‘And must never come down here without me. Come, take my hand. The caves will get bigger as we proceed, and you will feel less closed in.’

  But sometimes, the caves grew smaller and the tunnels darker. Often though, the roof was so far above that the light couldn’t penetrate. In places the walls twinkled and shone with such beauty she just wanted to stop and stare in wonder at this world hidden beneath the ground. Often, water dripped, or puddles appeared in front of them. Dark tunnels went off in every direction, so she marveled that Saville knew where to go––until she noticed a rope slung from spikes which served as a handrail.

  After a while the air gradually became fresher. Now and again, a low keening noise reached her ears. Saville stopped to listen and she bumped into the back of him. ‘What’s that noise?’ she said.

  He turned in the confined space, his eyes glittering. ‘The mother is very young and is probably frightened of what’s ahead.’

  Without her skirt as a barrier, Graine found herself more in contact with his body than was good for her. Or him, it seemed, for he took a hasty half step backwards. His head hit the roof and cursed when he dropped the lantern to the floor. He apologized immediately, his voice filled with laughter.

  But Graine couldn’t laugh. Darkness had crowded in on her. She gave a mew of fright as she reached out for him. Immediately, she was drawn into his arms and against his body. ‘Don’t be frightened. We have only a short way to go now.’

  She clung to him, her heart racing, gasping for breath as his nearness overwhelmed her.

  Saville’s mouth was soft against her ear as he murmured, ‘Alas, I’m only a man. I cannot have my senses filled so completely with you and remain strong in my resolve. Forgive me for this liberty.’ When his mouth captured hers in a kiss of prolonged tenderness, her knees lost all strength. She sagged against him, savoring the caress of his mouth against hers whilst he took his measure of the pleasure she afforded him. His breath was a husky intake when he let her go. ‘I have tasted of your sweetness and will be forever your slave,’

  ‘Saville, this cannot be. I’m promised to John,’ she murmured, weakly.

  ‘Perhaps we could lie to my cousin, tell him that you’re not Evelyn Adams, after all. We could tell him
Evelyn Adams was drowned in the ocean and you set yourself in her place.’

  In the darkness, Graine’s eyes widened, and her body jerked with the shock she felt. ‘We cannot.’

  He gave a bitter laugh. ‘Of course we cannot. Not only would it be dishonest, it would appear as if we’d conspired to steal your estate in the first place.’

  Which was exactly what she had done, if a person could conspire with oneself.

  As another frightened groan reached their ears she sucked in a deep breath. They must put all that was personal between them aside. ‘We must make all haste.’

  ‘Of course we must. Forgive me, Eve, your presence makes me forget all else. Here, take my hand.’

  She wished she could undo the past as they moved cautiously forward in the dark. Tears of remorse filled her eyes. If he ever discovered the truth of his words, he’d despise her now.

  Chapter Six

  The spaciousness of the cavern stunned Graine. Easily the size of the entrance hall of Rushford House, it was furnished with a table and stools. Lanterns provided lighting and a kettle hung steaming from a tripod over a fire.

  A rope ladder with wooden rungs hung over the edge of the sheer drop, and the reason for her breeches became clear when Saville said. ‘Can you manage to descend by yourself? I’ll be at the bottom to catch you if you fall.’

  Her mouth dried a little as she nodded. ‘I’ll try.’

  Being unhampered by a skirt made negotiating the ladder easier, but it had a tendency to twist sideways until she learned to coordinate her hand and feet movements. She was nervous of heights and completed the exercise slowly, her heart banging against her ribs. Saville lifted her the last few rungs and she clung to the safety of him for a moment, conscious of the warmth of his hands spanning her waist as he whispered, ‘Brave girl’.

  Edmund Scanlon grinned at the sight of her in breeches, then nodded towards a side chamber. ‘The mother is in there.’

  The young slave girl had been made private by a screen covered in pleated linen placed at the entrance. Her eyes were dull, her face expressed fear. Mixed with the fright was an oddly resigned expression, as if she’d reconciled herself to the inevitable. Huddled on a straw mattress, she hugged her stomach with her hands and moaned softly. The other woman squatted on her haunches by the mattress. She moved aside when Graine approached. Both females were mulattos, the younger one, several generations so, for her African blood was well diluted.

  The older woman began to croon a dirge low in her throat. Her glance slid over Saville and her eyes hooded as she offered him a smile.

  Graine tried to ignore the dart of jealously she felt when Saville grinned at her. This one knew her way around men. There were women like her plying their trade all over the world. She had probably been born on a plantation, become the mistress of the owner and had been sold on when he’d tired of her. It was a common enough story … yet it was probably not by choice, but survival.

  Graine asked Saville to leave, then examined the girl. Amy’s contractions were evenly spaced, the infant in the correct position for birth. Her hips were a little on the narrow side, for she had not fully developed as a woman yet. An ear against the girl’s distended stomach revealed the infant had a strong heartbeat. Graine smiled reassuringly at her and took her hand. ‘Try to relax. I’ll stay with you and help you through it.’

  The dull resignation remained in her eyes. Now and again she gave a low, animal-sounding moan, which made the hairs of Graine’s neck rise.

  The older women stopped crooning to gaze at her. ‘Amy don’t want no baby to look after.’

  ‘I know, but she has no choice.’

  Graine became the subject of an inscrutable look. ‘Amy has a choice. She consulted with the obeah man. She and the baby will die, you wait and see. Her ma will come to take her from her pain and misery. That’s what she wants.’ The woman closed her eyes and started singing under her breath again.

  Her words brought Graine’s anger flaming to the surface. ‘I’ve heard that slave obeah nonsense before. It’s superstition. Now stop that noise and make yourself useful. Fetch me some warm water in a bowl so I can sponge Amy down and make her comfortable.’

  ‘I’m a myla woman. The girl’s taught in the way of the obeah, so I can do nothing to help her. Neither can you.’ The woman’s eyes blazed a challenge at her for a moment. When Graine didn’t flinch away from her, it faded.

  ‘Do as I ask, please. At least she can be made comfortable.’

  The slave shrugged as she rose to her feet and pulled the screen aside. Gently, she said; ‘What the men did to Amy isn’t my fault, missy, and it won’t be my singing that kills her. The obeah man has gone with the boat and will never return. Seems to me that Amy doesn’t intend to live no more, and there’s nothing you or I can do about it. She’ll be better off if she doesn’t, for now she’s broken in, there can only be more of the same for her. Do you think she wants that? Would you?’

  Graine didn’t want to think about what had happened to this child, or speculate on her future. She’d grown up surrounded by the oppression of slavery all around her.

  Amy’s was a common enough story. Graine had helped the nuns nurse the victims of the slave trade. She’d watched them become crippled, or die, from tumors and infection caused by the tropical yaws, diseased lungs, overwork, or simply the lack of will to continue living.

  From self-preservation she’d become detached from their hardship, for it was something she was powerless to prevent. Slaves rarely lived more than a few years in the West Indies.

  She sighed, more in anger than in sorrow. She’d thought she’d left this cruelty behind her, but had forgotten the many British ship owners amongst the opportunists exploiting the weak. Her father had been one of those opportunists. Now she would use the profit he’d made to buy herself a husband and respectability in this cold land, because she needed to live herself. She also needed to respect the memory of her dead sister, whose only dream had been to have a family of her own.

  ‘Tsk!’ She made an exclamation of annoyance at the thought of subjecting herself to a man she didn’t love in pursuit of such a reward, when it was obvious from her own circumstance that men were so careless about their offspring.

  She set about washing Amy, who was surrounded by the musky odor of fear. She talked soothingly to her in the slave patois she’d been banned from using by the nuns, but knew the girl closed her ears and mind to her words.

  ‘The language is guttural to the ear and vulgar sounding. You will communicate, always using properly enunciated King’s English,’ the mother superior had ordered when she’d first heard her use it. The second time she’d heard her, Graine had suffered several strokes of a cane across her buttocks. The only time she’d used it after that was when she was sure she wasn’t being overheard, which wasn’t often.

  Just the thought of having someone at hand to look after her seemed to calm Amy, for when the next contraction rippled over her distended stomach she made hardly a sound.

  Graine smiled encouragingly at her, refusing to pander to the girl’s superstitious belief in the coming of death. Nature would soon prove her wrong. ‘It will take a little while yet. Soon, the pains will come one on top of the other and there will be strong pressure. When that happens, the infant will shortly be born. You might like to crouch, or position yourself on your hands and knees when that time comes. It will make delivery of your child, easier.’

  Indeed, the birth did seem to go well. The infant was a boy. Pale-skinned and of a good size––despite that, when he slid from Amy’s body it was obvious he was stillborn. Trying to massage some life into him did no good at all. When Graine gazed with despair at the limp little body, a lump came to her throat. Amy didn’t even look at her child. She just turned her face towards the wall.’

  Wrapping the child tightly in a cloth with the afterbirth, Graine set it to one side and cleaned Amy up. The girl lay quietly, staring upwards.

  Graine went out to talk t
o Saville. ‘The child didn’t survive.’

  He nodded. ‘Edmund will dispose of the body.’

  She placed a hand on his arm as he turned away. ‘The girl is too heartsick over what has happened to her. She longs for her mother and home and has lost the will to live. I believe she has conspired with the obeah man to bring about her own death. If so, she will not survive the night.’

  His eyes mirrored the pain she already felt. ‘Damned superstition; is there anything we can do?’

  Graine shook her head.

  He called to Sheba, who sauntered over, her eyes lowered in submission.

  ‘Can anything be done to help the girl?’

  ‘No mastah. Obeah is all powerful.’

  He didn’t bother arguing. ‘Then we’ll wait.’

  It didn’t take long. Amy died with quiet dignity, her last breath a barely heard sigh.

  Tears trickled down Graine’s cheeks as Saville and Edmund sewed Amy and her infant in a piece of canvas.

  ‘What are you going to do with her body?’

  ‘The soil in the churchyard is too frozen to dig a grave in. We’ll weigh it down and bury her at sea. There’s a deep spot––’

  She muffled her ears with her hands, wishing she hadn’t been so curious. She didn’t want to imagine Amy and her baby in their watery grave. Graine didn’t ask him anything more. Accepting as he was of the situation, she sensed a deep anger in him over the incident. She guessed he felt as impotent as she did over the slave issue. ‘What will happen to Sheba?’

  ‘Don’t you worry none about Sheba, missy,’ the woman said calmly. ‘Sheba can take care of herself.’

  ‘But you can’t stay here alone.’

  The woman shrugged. ‘This is a good place. The spirits won’t frighten Sheba. They be her friends.’

  So they left the woman there. Graine spent a restless night thinking of her all alone in that place.

  Over breakfast the next morning Saville told her that Sheba had gone.

  Eyes widening she stared at him. ‘Gone where?’

  ‘Who knows? She must have left shortly after we got back to the house last night because there’s been a light fall of snow and when we looked for her, we found no footprints.’ He crossed to where she stood. ‘Try not to worry about her. The woman’s a survivor and she’s taken a warm blanket and some food. Is there anything you want to ask me about last night?’