Rash Reckless Love, page 55
She was almost there when she ran into Sue, riding Jemmy at breakneck speed out of the front gate. Sue brought Jemmy to a sliding halt at sight of Anna.
“Oh, God,” she cried. “I've been looking everywhere for you, Anna! When Arthur couldn’t find you this morning, he nearly went crazy. He let the ship sail without him and stormed over to Mirabelle and accused Bernice of hiding you! She threw him out and he’s in the house swearing he’ll have both Lance and me up on charges for swindling him! Where have you been, Anna? The only ships that sailed this morning went to Turks Islands and to Boston and we knew you couldn’t have been on either of those! Anna, we must give him back his gold. Else he will surely—”
Arthur... still here. Anna’s face lost some of its color.
“Where I have been. Sue, is no matter,” she interrupted. “What matters is that I have lost the gold. Can he really do it, have you and Lance up on charges?”
“I don’t see how, but he swears he will do it! Papa is up in the timbers and knows nothing about all this—and Mamma, when she learned Arthur was not taking the ship but going instead over to Mirabelle, said coldly that she had acquired an idiot for a son-in-law and went into St. George and took the girls with her. I can’t cope with it, Anna. Arthur wasn’t so bad as long as he thought to find you at Mirabelle, but when he came back without you—he is beside himself. He followed me about the house, insisting that I knew where you were! This is the first time I have been able to slip away. I meant to go find Lance and—”
She stopped abruptly.
Arthur himself, a smiling vindictive Arthur handsomely dressed in puce satin, had stepped out from behind the hedge that lined the drive. And he was carrying a long whip.
“So I have found you, Anna,” he drawled. “And my horse as well.” He emphasized “my” with an evil look at Floss. “Be good enough to dismount.”
Anna reacted fast. With a nudge of her knee, she made Floss whirl about to run—but not before the long whip Arthur carried snaked through the air, curled around her slender waist and lifted her like a feather from Floss’s back to send her tumbling and rolling into the dust of the driveway.
Dimly she heard Sue scream. And from somewhere the sound of pounding hooves.
And then, surprisingly, the sound of a blade being drawn and a deep masculine voice she had not expected to hear ever again.
“You there!” called that commanding voice. “You with the whip! Leave off!”
Anna struggled up from the driveway to see that Brett, whose horse had just come to a skidding halt in their midst, was dismounting—hurling himself off his horse actually with his blade already drawn and flashing in the sun. His arrival had had something of the irresistible forward rush of a cavalry charge and before it Arthur stood uncertainly in the driveway with the long whip upraised.
“I am but chastening my bondswoman!” he howled, astonished and indignant that his actions should be questioned by a stranger.
“You are attacking my betrothed!” roared Brett—and by now his boots had taken him within range of Arthur’s whip.
Arthur wielded the whip savagely. Anna moaned and covered her eyes, expecting when she opened them to see Brett writhing in the dust, his sword wrenched from his grasp.
But that was not the sight that met her turquoise gaze.
Astonishingly, when she dared to look, she saw that Brett was still standing, sword in hand. The whip had snaked around him but he had hold of it and with it he had jerked .Arthur off his feet.
Arthur lost hold of the whip as he went down, and scrambled up with a curse. “No man dares to come between me and my property!” he snarled. “And the horse she rides is mine too! The law will take care of you for this day’s work!”
“Not today!’’ Brett’s voice rang out. He had cast the whip from him and had the point of his blade at Arthur’s throat even as Arthur gained his feet. He seemed to tower over the shrinking Arthur. “Today I am the highest court. It is to me you must appeal. Give me one good reason why I should not take your life!”
“Oh, stop!” cried Sue, wringing her hands. “Stop! Arthur is married to my sister!”
Anna thought privately that Mattie would be much better without him, but Sue’s words brought Brett—his blade still menacing Arthur—to a halt. “This lady is a friend of yours?” he asked Anna politely.
By now those magical words You are attacking my betrothed had sunk in on Anna. With shining eyes, she looked up at this daring stranger who had now saved her—twice. His betrothed! He had turned his back on Mirabelle’s heiresses and come to find her! Only, how had he known where to look?
But this was no time to find out. Anna found her voice. “Of course she’s my friend—the best friend I’ve got.”
“Don’t bother to explain, Anna.” The point of Brett’s sword still hovered close to Arthur’s shrinking person. His voice was cool. “I’ve been to Mirabelle and found out who you really are—I saw your picture there and was told where to find you.”
Of course, the painting! The one Papa Jamison had had commissioned for her birthday before he had his stroke. Bernice had kept it because she felt it might be valuable.
“I’m indebted to Bernice for telling you where I might be found.”
“Oh, I paid her well for doing so.” He flicked her a wry look, then turned his attention back to Arthur. “She’s given her consent to our marriage.”
Indignation welled up in Anna. “I don’t need Bernice’s permission!”
“No,” bellowed Arthur, driven too far by this exchange. “You need mine, by God, and I’ll not give it!”
“Don’t keep tempting me to kill you,” chided Brett in a silky voice. His blade crept a few inches closer to Arthur and Arthur blanched and fell back a pace.
“I’ll have you know that Anna Smith is my bondswoman,” exploded Arthur. “Ask her and she’ll tell you so. You can’t come between a man and his—”
“You certainly can’t come between a man and his betrothed. Not mine, at any rate,” interrupted Brett. His voice crackled. “If she’s your bondswoman, then you must have paid for her. How much?”
“Pay him nothing!” cried Anna, outraged. “He bought my horse and threatened to lock her in a shed and burn the shed over her head if I would not travel to Boston with him as his mistress!”
The gray eyes turned a shade colder. Brett’s jaw seemed harder chiseled than before. “Faith, a man eager to die!” he said softly.
Arthur recognized that look. There was death in those gray eyes that bored into his. “Have mercy!” he breathed. “Can ye not see I’ve been wronged? Bilked of my money?”
“I’ll buy her from you,” said Brett tersely. “And the horse too. Name your price.”
“She’s not for sale,” gasped Arthur.
“She is,” Brett corrected him. “I’ll buy her from a living man or take her from a dead one. The choice is yours. Make it quickly.”
“I’ll tell you what he paid for them both,” cried Sue, when Arthur seemed unable to speak. She named the figure and Brett, still keeping his sword at arm’s length and a watchful eye on Arthur, reached into his pocket with his free hand and drew out a handful of gold coins, counted them by flicking them contemptuously at Arthur one by one. Arthur flinched as each coin struck him—each small stinging impact was another blow to his lacerated pride.
“Now she’s paid for,” Brett said coldly, when he had flung the last coin at Arthur. “I’ll have her Articles—and a bill of sale for the horse.”
“I can write you out a bill of sale but I can’t give you her Articles,” said Arthur hoarsely. “For I tore that paper to bits and burnt the pieces when I learned she was gone.” Considering the state he was in, they could well believe it. “Then we’ll to the house,” said Brett, “and ye’ll write out a bill of sale for them both!”
“I’ll pick up your money for you, Arthur,” offered Sue quickly, bending down to pick the coins from the dusty driveway. “You two go on ahead. There’s parchment and ink at the little writing desk in the dining room. The pens may be broken but there’s a supply of goose quills there, Anna. You can cut a fresh one.”
“Thank you, Sue,” breathed Anna. “For everything.” She turned and fled after the two men. Brett was already striding toward the house and before him Arthur moved reluctantly, being herded along, prodded by the point of Brett’s sword.
At a walnut writing desk in the Waites’ dining room, the deed was done. With a shaking hand, Arthur made out two documents—one for the girl, one for the horse—and Sue came in in time to witness his signature.
Anna snatched the papers from him the moment they were signed. “Thank God I’m my own woman again. And Floss is mine again. Oh, Brett—” Her heart was so full she could not speak.
“You took Anna from me under duress,” cried Arthur. Some of his courage had come back and he was smarting under this cavalier treatment. “And Sue here is my witness.”
“I’m witness to the fact that you’ve got back all your money and there’ll be no more talk of bringing Lance and me up on charges for your loss!” said Sue tartly. She spilled the coins she had gathered up from the driveway onto the writing desk in front of him. “And when Mamma hears the things you called me, she may turn you out of the house!”
“Ye’ve bilked me!” cried Arthur. “You’re all together in this thing—’tis a plot!”
Brett moved closer to Arthur. His sword was sheathed now and he supposed that was what gave the other man his newfound temerity.
“If you seek to cause my lady any further trouble,” he said softly, “here’s a reminder that I stand between her and you.”
Without warning, his balled fist crashed into Arthur’s mouth. There was an anguished yell and the sound of smashing bone as Arthur’s front teeth cracked. He fell back, clutching his bloody mouth, his eyes filled with horror.
“Unless you’d care to lose the rest of your teeth, ye’ll take that as a warning,” Brett told him conversationally. “Shall we go, ladies? There’s a wedding ceremony to be gone through, for which I’ve acquired a special license.” He patted his doublet.
Anna gave him an adoring look, but as Arthur stumbled away to find water to ease his bleeding mouth, Sue spoke. “Would you like Lance to give you away?” she wondered.
Anna had eyes only for Brett. “I will give myself away,” she told Sue gaily. “In fact I have already done so—but I’d be delighted to have you and Lance at the wedding.”
“Which will be held at the church of your choice,” smiled Brett.
“Then ’twill be at St. Peter’s, for I have always fancied myself wed there.”
“But we must be quick,” he warned, “for my ship will not wait and we must be aboard her tonight.”
CHAPTER 40
The wedding held that afternoon at St. Peter’s was not at all the kind of wedding Anna had anticipated in the days when she was heiress to Mirabelle. Instead of wearing the handsome gown of white Italian satin and seed pearls imported from London that she had always imagined, she wore the pale yellow voile trimmed in gold ribands she had snatched up this morning from her big press at Mirabelle. And the slippers that peeped out from beneath her lemon, satin petticoat were red—for red and black were the colors of the slippers she had found bagged up for shipment. And her bridal circlet, which she wore around her head, was a garland of hastily wound together pink Chain of Love flowers that they had snatched up from the roadside and Sue had woven on the way to the church.
Instead of a wedding party that included most of the eligible youth of the island, she was attended only by Lance—whom Sue had sent a servant to fetch—and Sue, and the minister’s voice echoed hollowly in the empty parish church. He had been loath to perform the ceremony without proper crying of the banns, but Sue persuaded him that Danforth’s ship would not wait and he took note of the special license Brett thrust into his hand.
Instead of a great reception held at Mirabelle, where the entire genteel population of Bermuda might toast the bride, the four of them clinked glasses of indifferent Madeira at a local tavern (for Sue had said that with Arthur still on the premises it would be impossible for the bridal couple to be entertained at Waite Hall, and Anna hesitated to impose on Lance’s parents, although he offered handsomely).
But all of it went by Anna in a lovely golden haze. To her it was the most wonderful of weddings, for it was a wedding she had despaired of in the morning—and embarked on in the afternoon. Brett wore the same russet doublet and trousers he had worn when she first saw him. But he had earlier returned to the inn for a change of linens and the flowing sleeves of his cambric shirt were as frostily white as the careless ruffle of Mechlin at his throat.
He stood straight and tall and forceful beside her, concentrating on the minister’s words, and he took her as his wife in deep resonant tones as behind them Sue sobbed audibly. Anna was proud of him. And more—she loved him.
And as the minister pronounced them man and wife she felt a special surge of joy—for Brett had broken off whatever arrangement he had had to marry one of Mirabelle’s heiresses, to wed her. A girl with nothing to offer but herself! To him, she came first. First above all other women! For that, if for nothing else, she felt she would have loved him.
Anna was young, and for all her self-vaunted sophistication, very innocent of the world....
“Oh, Anna!” Still misty-eyed, Sue hugged her as she and Lance and Anna emerged into the sunlight, which struck blindingly against the white lime-washed walls of the church. “You’re married! I can’t believe it!”
Anna couldn’t believe it, either. She didn’t feel married, she felt confused. “Where’s Brett?” she demanded merrily, looking about her. “Don’t tell me I’ve already lost him!”
“He stayed behind to pay the minister,” laughed Sue. “And I don’t think you need worry about losing him, the way he looks at you! Lance, why don’t you look at me like that?”
Inside the church, Brett was hastening to give the minister a suitable sum. He was in a hurry, for evening was coming and he had yet to arrange to get Anna’s horse aboard.
“Ah, wait, I almost forgot,” cried the minister as Brett turned to leave. “There’s a packet put in trust with me by my predecessor, which was to be given to Mistress Anna on her wedding day. I’ll get it.”
Brett waited impatiently while the packet was found and thrust into his hand. He studied the thick bundle. “Who gave you this, did you say?”
“My predecessor, who had it, I believe, from Mistress Anna’s Aunt Eliza on. her deathbed.”
“Her Aunt Eliza?” asked Brett sharply.
“Eliza Smith, the bondservant—the woman who brought Mistress Anna to this island as a baby.”
Brett relaxed but he frowned at the packet in his hand. It was a Pandora’s box, he thought grimly; open it and all the troubles of the world would spill out. For he had no doubt what the packet contained—it would tell about a dead woman, Anna Smith’s mother... .Well, he would not let sad stories and old tragedies spoil this wedding trip! Anna could have the packet later—much later. He stuffed it inside his doublet and went out into the sunshine to join his bride.
They might have asked what had taken him so long but that Sue was asking wonderingly, “Anna, isn’t that the dress you wore to a party at the Soames’ two seasons ago?”
Anna laughed. “The very same.”
“But—how did you get it? I thought Bernice had confiscated all your lovely things?”
Anna leaned over and whispered in Sue’s ear, “I went by there this morning and slipped in and snatched up a few clothes that hadn’t yet been altered for her daughters!”
“Wonderful!” Sue clapped her hands. “Mark you. I’ll never tell it.”
Lance leaned toward them. “Danforth and I are off to see if we can arrange a means to get Floss aboard ship,” he told them. “We’ll meet you at the tavern.”
“There’s no hurry, then,” laughed Sue, strolling along beside Anna in the sunlight. “How Bernice will wonder what’s happened to that dress and petticoat! I don’t doubt me she’ll beat the servants.” She looked behind them at the three horses following them on leads. “Isn’t that Runalong you brought along with Floss?”
Anna nodded. “I borrowed Runalong from Mirabelle’s stables. Will you take him back with you, Sue, and feed him well before you turn him loose to go home? I think Bernice is starving the animals.”
‘‘Then you’ll probably want to pick up Coral and take her along?”
“I’d like to, Sue,” sighed Anna, “but I dare not go back there.” She cast a quick glance at Runalong’s heavy load.
Sue caught that glance. “But you told Brett that load on Runalong’s back is only an iron popcorn popper and some fireplace tools and other iron utensils Eliza had given you. Surely they wouldn’t be valuable enough for Bernice to make trouble over! Tell you what, I’ll take Runalong back tomorrow myself and tell Bernice I found the horse on the road and recognized him. And on my way back I’ll just snatch up Coral and take her home with me—you needn’t worry, Anna, the cat will be well cared for.”
Anna gave her a grateful look. “I hadn’t thought about Bernice blaming the servants and beating them,” she said, troubled. “So you must be sure to tell her I took the dress and the chemise and three pairs of slippers. Make a point of describing my gown—which you’d no idea how I came by! And also mention”—her voice slowed thoughtfully—“that I had a couple of long, well-wrapped, heavy objects with me.”
“The fireplace tools?” gasped Sue.
Anna leaned toward her. “The candlesticks,” she whispered.
“Those huge ones from the sideboard? Oh, Anna, you didn’t?”
