Practical Pansy swallowed her laughter, for it would not do for her to make mock of her mistress. Velvet might think she was going to spend her life a widow, but Pansy suspected she would eventually remarry, for she was far too alive a person to remain alone and unloved. As for Master Adam and Mistress Skye gaining their old age! Those two will never be old, thought Pansy. “Aye, m’lady,” she answered simply, “ ’twill be good to get home.”
Her words had not even died away when the door to the cabin burst open, and the room was filled with soldiers who began to poke and pry into everything, opening chests and pulling out garments.
“How dare you!” Velvet cried. “Stop at once! Get out of my cabin!”
They did not understand her words, and so continued on with their mission. Velvet, however, attempted to stop them physically, pushing at them, yanking back her garments from their hands, the outrage plain upon her lovely face. The soldiers began to grin as they recognized her womanly fury, though it became obvious that there was no gold hidden in the captain’s cabin. European women were very few here, and surely their superiors would not deny them a few moments’ sport with this heretic Englishwoman.
Pansy, seeing their change in mood, slipped from the cabin and ran quickly to find Murrough.
With a roar of outrage Murrough rushed to his cabin, followed by Father Ourique. Velvet, however, was defending herself quite well against the governor’s soldiers. She had flung a perfume bottle at one, hitting her target squarely in the middle of his forehead and rendering him unconscious. About him his comrades clustered worriedly.
“Who is this angry young woman?” demanded the Jesuit.
“My sister, Velvet Gordon, the Countess of BrocCairn,” said Murrough with a relieved chuckle. “Velvet, poppet, may I present to you Father Esteban Ruy Ourique, the governor’s aide.”
“Mon père, your men are unruly and have made an unholy disaster of my trunks. Not only that, but they have made rather obscene advances to me. Although I do not understand your language, I most certainly understood their intent. I am shocked! I am a most respectable Catholic gentlewoman, a widow in mourning.”
“You have my apologies, madame, and those of His Excellency for whom I speak. I can only say that women of our race are rare in these climes, and my men in their enthusiasm at seeing a beautiful European woman were overzealous in their admiration.”
Velvet laughed, a clear, sweet sound. “Padre, I have never before met a Jesuit, but you do their reputation for diplomacy great honor.”
“I see much of your mother in you, madame,” came Father Ourique’s reply, and he smiled thinly. Then he turned to Murrough. “Such a long voyage has undoubtedly been hard on your sister, Captain. She and her servant must be the governor’s guests for the next few days until our business is completed.”
“My sister is quite comfortable here, Padre, and, besides, we have no further business,” said Murrough.
“Ah, but we do, Captain O’Flaherty. Just beyond our horizon lies your fleet, and until it anchors here in Bombay and disgorges its cargo to us, Lady Gordon will remain our guest.”
“I cannot allow that,” said Murrough tersely.
“But I insist,” came the Jesuit’s steely reply. “You really have no choice, Captain. My soldiers far outnumber your crew.”
“This is outright piracy, Padre!” protested Murrough.
“To whom will you complain, Captain?” mocked the Jesuit. “The Portuguese government will not chastize us for extracting monies from those who seek to dislodge us from our place here in India. Neither can you, as the good Catholic you are, deny the church a contribution for its work here.”
“Padre, I think you should know that my sister is the queen’s godchild. She is particularly dear to Elizabeth Tudor.”
“The English queen means nothing to us, heretic that she is.”
“My sister’s other godmother is France’s queen,” was Murrough’s quick reply. “She is also cherished by that lady. I am sure if England’s queen is naught to you, France’s must be, for that is where, if memory serves me, the Jesuits have their headquarters. I might also remind you that our uncle is a bishop.”
“You need have no fears, Captain. We mean your sister no harm, but we do need some sort of bond for your good behavior as you have shown yourself to be impetuous,” Father Ourique insisted.
“I will complain to the queen when we return to England, Padre!” said Murrough angrily.
“Of course,” murmured the priest smoothly, and then he turned to Velvet. “Take only a minimum of personal necessities, madame. I do not expect you will be with us long.”
“You’re damned right she won’t be!” exploded Murrough.
“Don’t fret, Murrough,” said Velvet calmly. “There is nothing we can do about this situation. I am merely surprised that Mother could not get some sort of message to you before
we reached Bombay. It was inevitable that once we reached here the ransom would have to be paid.”
The Jesuit smiled coldly, but his eyes were beaming with approval. “Your sister understands the game, Captain O’Flaherty,” he said, “far better than you do.”
Velvet smiled back at Father Ourique. “Will you see that my cabin is cleared of your men, Padre, so that my tiring woman and I may pack? We will not be very long.”
“There is time, Countess. I will send for a carriage to transport you.” He bowed, and then with a paucity of motion shooed the soldiers from the cabin, leaving Pansy, Murrough, and Velvet alone.
