Leaning over the ship’s rail, she looked down at the dark, swiftly moving water. How easy it would be, she thought, and then the mewling cry of a gull made her raise her head to the sky, and the softly falling rain mixed with the tears on her cheeks. How could she even consider such a thing? Death would change nothing for her. She would still be separated from Akbar and her daughter, Yasaman. It took far more courage to live, and she was, after all, her parents’ child.
Velvet remembered little of her departure from India. After Akbar had drugged her, Adali had kept her in a sleeping state for most of the several weeks it took to reach Cambay and the coast. The eunuch had seen her aboard Murrough’s ship, settling her in her quarters as his last service to her. She had been awake then, but very weak.
Tucking her into bed, he had said to her, “My lord has told me several things to say to you, things to ease your fears. The little princess has been given to Rugaiya Begum who will raise her as if she were her very own. She will be instructed secretly in your faith, for our lord Akbar thought you would want that. I am to be Yasaman Kama Begum’s eunuch and head of her household. He thought that would please you. Among your belongings you will find a thin gold chain upon which there is one pink pearl. Each year to celebrate the little princess’s birthday another pink pearl will be delivered to your father. In this way you will know that the child lives and thrives.”
“Make sure that she knows I did not want to leave her,” Velvet whispered weakly. “Make sure that she knows that I love her.”
“I will not let her forget you,” he promised.
“Uncle!” Velvet called out.
Michael O’Malley hurried to his niece’s side. “What is it, my child?”
“Give me the miniature that you carry of me. I am certain you have one that you planned to show my lord Akbar.”
“I do,” he said, reaching into his robes where it had been all these weeks. Drawing it out, he handed it to her.
“Give it to my daughter when she is old enough,” Velvet said to the eunuch, and then she fell back against the pillows.
Adali nodded his head, his eyes filled with tears. Kneeling, he kissed her hand, and then rising once more he hurried from the cabin, not even daring to turn as he said, “Farewell, my princess,” lest she see the tears upon his cheeks.
Velvet was exhausted and worn. Her will to live had been badly sapped. For the next three months she slept constantly, only rousing for Pansy, who spoon-fed her mistress soup made from chickens that had been brought aboard and were kept caged on deck. It was only in the fourth month of her journey that Velvet began to rouse from her torpor.
They sailed in a convoy of six ships, for the de Mariscos would take no chances in bringing their child home safely. They had stopped in Zanzibar to take on fresh water, more chickens, fruit, and vegetables; and later when they had rounded the horn of Africa, they stopped several times to trade for these items with the natives, most of whom were wary when they saw the ships, fearing slavers. Halfway up the African coast, Murrough put well out to sea, for although he and his fleet could outgun any Barbary pirates rash enough to attack them, he preferred to avoid such danger with his sister in such a weakened condition of both body and mind.
Velvet, however, improved daily, for her basic will was to survive. Her body responded to Pansy’s tender nursing and her uncle’s and brother’s concern, even if her conscious mind did not.
Pansy, although she attempted restraint before her mistress, was totally overjoyed to be going home. Velvet overheard her thing woman one day as she sat upon the deck, little Dugie in her lap.
“You’re going to meet your father soon, Dugie. You’ll like him, for he’s a wonderful man. Did I tell you that you look just like him? And you’ll see your grandmam and your grandpa, too, my lamb. Oh, you’ll like England, me darlin’!”
Dugie stared up at his mother, bright-eyed, taking in every word she said. At first he’d been afraid of the sailors who looked so very different from the emperor’s soldiers who had courted his mother and played with him in an effort to please her. He was, however, unable to resist the ship’s elderly sailmaker who sat cross-legged sewing upon the deck almost every day. The sailmaker, a man without chick or child, was flattered and happily demonstrated his craft to the tiny boy, watching over him when Pansy was serving her mistress. Gradually the child began to win over other sailors on the vessel, many of whom rarely saw their own children, if in fact they even acknowledged them. Dugie, to his delight, found himself being petted and spoiled quite royally.
“He’s going to be impossible when I get him home,” Pansy said indulgently.
Tonight they would anchor in the London pool, and Velvet would see her parents for the first time in five years, and her husband for the first time in two and a half years. Alexander Gordon.“Alex,”she whispered his name into the wind. What kind of chance for happiness did she have with him now? Perhaps he would want their marriage annulled, and that, thought Velvet, would suit her quite well. She would go back to Akbar. She had, after all, been unfaithful to Alex even if she hadn’t known it. She couldn’t believe Uncle Michael when he said that Alex wanted her back. Her parents wanted her back, but Alex? She did not think so, proud bastard that he was.
Did she want to be his wife? No! Yes! At this point she simply didn’t know. How could she love again the man who had ignored her pleadings and fought a duel over nothing? His alleged death had caused her to flee, had brought her to Akbar, had given her Yasaman, and now his resurrection had stolen her happiness and taken her child from her. It was all his fault, and she was not certain that she would or could ever forgive him.
“You look so serious, little sister.” Murrough was by her side, throwing an arm about her.
“I am afraid of the future,” she said truthfully.
“Come, poppet,” he said in an attempt to cheer her up, “Mother and Adam are anxiously awaiting your arrival at Greenwood. Be happy! You are finally home.”
“And Alex? Will he be anxiously awaiting me, Murrough?”
“Mother sent Alex home to Scotland before I left. She said she would send for him when you returned. Since she couldn’t know exactly when we would arrive, I do not believe she has yet dispatched a messenger to Scotland.”
“Good! I am not ready yet to see him.”
“Velvet …”
“He is as much to blame for this situation as I am, Murrough. Had he not involved himself in a duel with Lord de Boult, none of this would have happened. I have lost far more than my husband in this matter.”
“He’s a proud man, Velvet. Be generous,” Murrough counseled.
“Why?” she demanded. “Should we both not be generous and forgiving ofeach other?”
