There were taffetas, satins, and brocades. Every color was there. There were long-sleeved gowns, more daring evening gowns, hats in boxes on an overhead shelf, shoes lined up precisely along the bottom, along with capes, long and short, lightweight and fur lined. And at the far end were drawers, at least a dozen of them, filled with gloves, delicate hand-stitched underwear, satin evening bags, shawls, and stockings.
One drawer that contained delicate handkerchiefs. The one on top caught her attention. Elegant scrolled letters were embroidered in gold threads—F.B.
"Felicia Barrington."
This was Lady Barrington's wardrobe. These were her things, everything meticulously cleaned and pressed, as if they only waited for her. She'd never seen anything like it before in her life and wondered why Lord Barrington had kept everything.
"He must have loved you very much," she whispered. Still, this discovery left her feeling unsettled.
Her grandfather had been dead for years, her parents as well. Portraits of them adorned her grandmother's house, but Lady Regina certainly hadn't kept their clothing closed away, except for a few infant's garments from when her father was a baby. That was quite common, she supposed. But an entire wardrobe?
Elyse reached to close the far door. She didn't have time to wonder about Lord Barrington's reasons. She still didn't have a costume and absolutely refused to be another Greek goddess at the party. Then she stopped, her hand on the other door as her gaze fastened on a particular gown. She opened the door to more allow light.
"Oh my," she whispered as she turned to the painting then back to the wardrobe. The gown was the very same one Lady Barrington had worn for the portrait.
She removed it from the satin-wrapped hanger and held it against herself. She looked over at the smiling image of Felicia Barrington.
"I hope you don't mind, but I think I've just found the perfect thing to wear tonight." She pulled the pins from her own hair.
"It will be perfect," Elyse declared. Then she frowned faintly. The only thing missing would be the earbobs. She wondered what had happened to them. Probably tucked away in a safe somewhere in the house, as they would have been quite valuable.
There was certainly no need to worry about that now. Her frown turned into a smile. She intended to wait until the other guests had gone down to the party before making her entrance. Jerrold and his father would be so pleased.
"Thank you," she whispered to the painting.
Zach tied the wide band of silk behind his head. A smile pulled at his mouth as he deliberately positioned it over his left eye. Standing before the full-length mirror in his chamber, he inspected his costume, dressed entirely in black silk.
"Ah yes, a pirate. Especially for you, Elyse." He pulled on black gloves, and in one practiced move placed a steel blade into the narrow scabbard at his hip. After all, every pirate worth his weight in gold had a sword.
Tonight, however, he wasn't out to rescue damsels in distress or to relieve rich fools of their gold. A smile curved below the silk mask. He'd already lifted the gold of one fool. As he slipped the pendant into his pocket, his smile deepened. He was after a far richer prize from Elyse, something only she could give him.
* * *
Jerrold Barrington had chosen a satin frock coat Louis XIV of France might have worn. Imitating the posturing monarch, he'd affixed a heart-shaped beauty mark to his cheek and sported a wig of mountainous curls. It was his custom to dress as someone very powerful and wealthy. He considered himself at home among such company.
Now, with agitation, he glanced impatiently at the wide stairs. All his guests were present. Lady Winslow was chatting nearby with his father. He turned as a faint ripple of surprise moved through the crowd, lifting a thin brow at sight of the tall, lean figure dressed all in black silk. One by one, Barrington's guests parted as the masked man made his way across the crowded hall.
Jerrold's first impression was dismay, then shock. This had to be some joke. His fingers curled into hard fists at his sides. It was almost as if one of his guests were mocking him by posing as the Raven.
He pushed back his annoyance. After all, it was only a costume party, and he'd placed no restrictions on what his guests wore. But still, just the sight of that black outfit and the silk mask that were both well-known was enough to infuriate him.
He'd never seen the Raven, but his men had, when their ships were scuttled on the Barrier Reef or lured into traps among the small islands off the coast of New South Wales.
His losses to that thief over the past two years had practically driven Barrington Shipping to the brink of ruin. But his marriage to Elyse would bring renewed financial stability to the ailing company. Still his quarrel with the Raven wasn't entirely a matter of money.
It had become personal. The pirate's escapades had achieved a certain notoriety in England. Indeed, he now seemed almost a folk hero, one that had an uncanny ability to escape the authorities at every turn. And now, for some unknown reason, he had apparently gone into hiding.
The latest word he had from the captain of one of his ships newly arrived from New South Wales that had managed to arrive unscathed, was that there hadn't been any raids on Barrington ships for quite some time. But that wasn't good enough.
He didn't want the man to merely lie low. He wouldn't rest until the Raven was dead, or at the bottom of the Barrier Reef. He would stop the Raven, no matter what the cost. The smile Jerrold Barrington fastened on his face as he finally recognized his guest betrayed none of his thoughts. His voice was smooth as the silk of the man's mask.
"My compliments, sir. You've outdone everyone. You've caused speculation to run rampant."
Zach smiled. "I was certain you would enjoy a bit of humor as well as the next person. Do you think I resemble the Raven? I understand several of your crews have had an especially close look at the fellow."
"It's very clever, but the Raven is far too illusive to risk so much as to appear here. Still my compliments to you, and a bit of a warning." Jerrold added. "My men will have the Raven. Already his activities are greatly reduced. But let me assure you, if and when he chooses to strike again, Barrington Shipping will be waiting for him."
"The Raven doesn't strike me as the sort of fellow who would quit so easily, although I can see that he might become bored with it all. There is really no challenge to sinking ships." He deliberately goaded Barrington.
