After a while, she wandered out onto the balcony and she watched, barely noticing a small boat paddling away from the pier. Briefly she wondered who it might have been. But in truth, she thought little more of it, for Christian’s confession weighed heavily upon her heart. At last she came to the conclusion that Christian might have, in fact, been partly responsible for her father’s death. Though still, the blame fell to her father, and her father alone, for it certainly was not as though they’d been left completely destitute. Nay, it was none other than her father’s decision to end his miserable life—if, in fact, he had.
And she was certain now that he had. It was that realization more than aught else that had kept her tongue tied all the way back. The truth was that her father had been a weak man, cold and mean on the exterior to conceal his feebleness within—she could see that now.
Having thought it over, she washed herself, splashing her face with the cool water for courage. Opening her trunk, she drew out the green silk dress Christian seemed so fond of and dressed carefully, brushing her hair, and in her haste, not even bothering to fix it properly. She left it down instead, the length of it reaching her hips. And then she sought out Christian.
He was nowhere to be found. The house was intensely quiet, as though forsaken of all life. At long last, on the way back to the master’s room, she spied Quincy in the chamber across the corridor, the one her cousin and Jean Paul had used for their own. He started at seeing her, both of his brows lifting in surprise.
“Where is everyone?” Jessie asked without preamble. “I need to speak with Christian.”
“They’ve gone.”
“Gone?”
“Yes, mum, gone.”
Jessie bristled at his uninformative response. “Where? I saw a boat leaving the dock, but I thought it might be some of the men returning to the Mistral and I thought nothing more of it.” Worry furrowed her brow as she asked, “Is that where they’ve gone? Back to the Mistral?”
“Well,” Quincy hedged. He looked heavenward, one eye closing slightly, as though to consider an answer, and Jessie knew to doubt his next words. He surprised her by speaking what sounded to be the truth. “They’ve gone to Charlestown,” he confessed. “M’lord said I should stay here wit’ ye and see to ye—didn’t want to worry ye none.”
Confused, Jessie said, “I don’t understand. I should think he’d have wanted Ben to remain as well. After all, he and I were to have sailed for England together. He shouldn’t risk being seen, should he?”
“Aye, mum,” Quincy yielded, “but yer cousin wouldn’t hear of it. He went and there was no keeping him from it. God’s truth!”
Jessie sighed. “I see, and what, pray tell, could have been so urgent as to draw him into such dangerous folly?” She didn’t truly expect an answer because of the frown that appeared upon the old man’s face, but to her surprise, she received one, despite Quincy’s tortured expression. It was obvious he didn’t want to say.
“Well, mum... y’see... ’tis the Mistral,” he revealed. “While you were away this morn... news came that it was arrested last night. M’lord was summoned to appear before Daniel Moore straightaway.”
Jessie felt suddenly ill. “My God! What for? What on earth could he want with Christian?”
Quincy’s eyes held hers. “Well, you see, mum... the Mistral’s been accused of bearing unauthorized goods into Charlestown harbor. They said?—”
“Absurd!” Jessie exclaimed. “’Tis ridiculous—why?”
“Because, mum... we set anchor in the dead o’ night, nor did we report to the customs house straightaway, that’s why.”
Jessie’s head reeled as she recalled that they’d departed late in the night, as well. Then, too, they’d sailed into the Dutch West Indies, reportedly a smugglers’ and pirates’ haven. And they had, in fact, returned in the deepest hours of the night. Heaven help her, but all at once it came clear to her. How could she not have suspected before? Lord, she hadn’t dreamed he would conduct his business while she was aboard. Even knowing who he was—what he was. Placing a hand to her brow, Jessie leaned back against the doorframe, feeling weak of a sudden.The Mistral... Dear God, she’d sailed all that time aboard a smuggler’s vessel—one carrying an illegal cargo, no less! She felt sick with the shock of it all.
Quincy advanced upon her suddenly. “Nay, mum,” he said, as though he’d read her thoughts and meant to acquit his master of her silent accusations.
Jessie backed away from him, out into the corridor, as though to escape his knowing gaze. Had everyone known, save her? Ben, too? Aye, even as she asked herself that question, she knew it was so.
“M’lady,” Quincy protested, “It is not what it seems, at all! M’lord did sail into St. Christopher to clear his cargo with the authorities, and he has his papers to prove it!” He nodded fervently. “Aye, he does, an’ he’s carryin’ ’em with him to see Daniel Moore—told me to tell ye ’e’d be back before eventide. He didn’t wish to worry ye, is all.”
Relief swept over Jessie like a flood tide, dizzying her. Her knees buckled slightly and her eyes shimmered with tears. “Thank God!” she whispered fiercely. “But what of Ben? Why need he have gone? Why should he have risked himself if Christian bears proof?”
Quincy shrugged. “There was no one to stop ’im. Yer cousin is a fierce one, he is, and loyal to m’lord, besides.”
“I see. As you are?”
“Yes, mum.”
She took a deep breath and asked, “How long have they been gone?”
“Little more’n an hour,” he declared.
“Very well, then. Thank you, Quincy.” Still somewhat dazed by his disclosure, Jessie left him staring after her and made her way down the corridor quickly, down the spiral steps to the entrance hall. She intended to await Christian at the docks, soanxious was she to see him. She hurried, though halfway down the steps she halted abruptly.
Jessie was momentarily stunned by St. John’s unexpected appearance. “H-How did you manage to find me?”
