The Bride of Blackbeard Page 19

  Driving the mount on, he arrived at the cottage, halting and sliding from the saddle in one motion. He threw open the door.

  “Ben! Will! Where are you?”

  The boys yelled from under the floorboards. “Pa! We are down here!”

  “Thank you,” he whispered under his breath. “Where is your mother?”

  Will’s voice started to crack. “She left about an hour ago. Something is wrong with the slaves and the animals. She hasn’t been back since!”

  Fate kicked him hard in the stomach.

  No. It would not happen again. He wouldn’t let it.

  “Go to the main house, and get in the root cellar. It is deeper. Go! Run!”

  He shot out toward the slaves’ cabin and stopped dead at the sign on the porch which read Quarantine. Someone had placed it half under a barrel in an attempt to keep it from blowing away. He kicked the front door which rocked open and shut before its hinges gave way, sending it flying up into the gale.

  He entered and called, “Bess! Alphonse!”

  They too had retreated under the floorboards to the root cellar. He opened the door in the floor and Bess stood on the steps looking up at him, near tears.

  “Lucian, they is all sick, and now this Cane! I don’t know how we will keep them all safe down here!”

  “Where is Constanza?”

  “Last time I saw her she was headed to the barn.”

  “Stay down there, Bess. We have rode out worse storms than this one. I will be back.” He ran toward the main house, mechanically dodging the flying debris barreling through the air.

  The manor contained three cellars, the root cellar, a food cellar and what he now called the rum cellar. He knew the family would either be in the food or root cellar, as Hopkins had been able to hide the rum-running from Sarah up until now.

  He slipped on the rain-covered steps leading to the rum cellar, landing with a crunch on his knees.

  Panic, raw enough to make his head spin, made him lose focus. His eyes squinted to adjust to the dark as he bellowed, “Constanza! Constanza, you answer me right now!”

  He shot down the barrel rows, his head whipping back and forth in all directions.

  Where was she?

  And then he saw her.

  She was sprawled between two barrels, her head lying in a circular pool of blood. Her long hair drenched crimson.

  “No...no, no, no...” Dropping to a knee beside her, he lifted her gently into his arms.

  A ceiling beam lay nearby. He presumed it must have fallen on her.

  “Stanzy, please. Oh, have mercy, please.” He put his hand to her chest, and felt her heart beating strongly. She shivered from the cold.

  “Lucian?” she said groggily.

  “Yes, darling, it’s me. You’re going to be all right. We have to get out of here, into the other cellars.”

  “Lucian, the water is making everyone sick. It is why Meg is sick.”

  “All right, darling. We will take care of it.” What was she talking about? Had the beam muddled her thinking momentarily?

  “Lucian, do not patronize me!” She sat bolt upright out of his arms. With one hand she wiped at the blood on her face. She froze to examine his expression. He was smiling.

  “You are unbelievable,” he said. “Let’s go. I don’t want to die in the middle of this cursed rum.”

  “Lucian? What about Megan?”

  “Oh, no. Come on.” He half dragged her up the steps into the swirling winds.

  They struggled to run against the driving rain. The tempest pushed them about like leaves in a gale. He opened the second storm cellar doors and peered into the gloom, searching for what he already knew in his heart wouldn’t be there.

  His little girl.

  ~ * ~

  Unable to hide his panic, Lucian demanded of Hopkins. “Where is she?”

  “It is a lost cause I am afraid, the top of the second floor has already been whipped away, there is no way she could have survived,” was his flat answer.

  “You didn’t even look for her? Your own child?” shrieked Stanzy. Sarah stood cowering behind her useless husband.

  Stanzy’s hair, matted with blood, flung crimson droplets in all directions as she shook her head in disbelief. Their sickening spattered pattern dotted the floor beneath her.

  They didn’t need to exchange words, Lucian grabbed her hand and they bounded up the steps once again.

  The sight in front of them was daunting. A large hunk of roof lay on the manor lawn, blocking their way. Heading around it, they stopped in shock. The remaining rooftop rose and fell, flapping in the wind as if the storm had breathed the house to life.

  Cautiously, they entered through the front door. It would do no one any good for them to run headlong without thinking. The main entrance to the manor had caved in and the grand staircase was blocked with debris and rubble.

  Stanzy could barely hear, the storm outside wailed like a banshee come to claim her victims. Lucian muttered something imperceptible that was whisked away on the howling wind. The only thing she could see was his mouth moving, forming the words, “Please, no...”

  He pulled her behind him to the kitchen.

  Opening the door to the back stairwell revealed it too had been partially damaged. They began digging furiously through the mounds of splintered wood. A thunderous sound from behind made them involuntarily cover their heads as a tree limb crashed through the window in the kitchen, sending glass slicing in all directions.

  “Dig!” Lucian bellowed above the din.

  Stanzy dug both hands into the pile, weeping hysterically. Her mind felt rent in two at the horrible sadness of it all. It was ready to snap, and if it did, she would never be the same again. Clearing a very small space to see up the staircase, it was obvious which one of them would need to enter the fallen stairwell.

  “Go find her. Hurry! I am sure the eye of the storm will be here at any minute.”

  Lucian hoisted her up and she slid through the top of the pile of rubble. The scene at the top of the stairs gave her pause. Half of Megan’s roof was blown away. The gaping hole resembled a yawning mouth; blackened storm clouds swirled directly above in the night sky. Smaller pieces of furniture took flight, revolving slowly in the updraft, whisking out the hole into the tornado. Her dolls rose in the air in a macabre waltz, before they too careened out of sight through the open ceiling.

  Stanzy crawled her way over downed planks and tree boughs littering the nursery floor. Water poured in from the sky in a deluge, as if the heavens had opened for a second time to allow a second flooding of the earth. The tempest seemed poised just above the mansion.

  Megan’s heavy wardrobe still stood in the corner of the room, albeit it had moved a few feet. Frantically searching about the room, Megan was nowhere in sight.

  Where are you? Where are you? Please Megan...

  Stanzy fought her way toward the huge cabinet and tugged at its monstrous doors. They wouldn’t budge. She furiously looked around the room for something with which to pry them open, but everything useful was gone from the room.

  Then she heard it. Whimpering from inside the wardrobe. Thank you, God!

  Constanza screamed into the wind. “We are here Megan, we are coming!”

  The doors rattled as Megan’s tiny fists pummeled against it.

  Stanzy made her way back across the debris to the hole. She yelled down to Lucian, “I can’t get into her wardrobe, find me something to pry it open!”

  Lucian scrambled around the kitchen and could find nothing useful. He opened the door to the outside and it flew off into the gale immediately. On the ground lay an axe embedded in the dirt, which he grabbed, ran back to the stairwell and proceeded to shove it through the hole.

  Stanzy snatched the long handle and when she reached the wardrobe screamed, “Megan. Move as far into the corner as you can and stay perfectly still.” She was all too aware if Megan didn’t heed her, she might kill or maim her forever, but what choice did she have? The
y may all three be dead in a minute if the eye of the tornado touched down close enough to the manor.

  She smashed the door with the axe and it barely cracked. It was thick and old. She whacked it again and again. Pure unadulterated rage overtook her. Through her mind raced pictures of injustice—her drunken father; the face of Megan, who hadn’t asked to be ill, mute and left for dead; the faces of the innocent patients she’d seen die horrid deaths.

  And it cracked.

  Just before her mind did.

  She threw the axe aside and peered into the wardrobe.

  There she sat. Beautiful little Megan curled up in a ball in the corner. “Oh, Megan!”

  “Mama! Ma! Please! Please!” Megan scampered across the floor of the wardrobe into Stanzy’s outstretched arms.

  Fervently hugging her close for a precious few seconds, Stanzy gathered her up, making her way back to the stairs. Carefully, she dropped Megan through the hole into Lucian’s outstretched arms.

  ~ Chapter Fifteen ~

  Once dealing its monstrous devastation, the maelstrom passed—rain ceased and winds calmed. Hopkins sat at Lucian’s kitchen table. Damage to the cottage was minimal compared to the manor, which was almost a total loss. It would take at least a year to rebuild. Crops had been partially destroyed, but some would be salvageable.

  After staring at the tabletop as Lucian and Stanzy waited, he finally looked up. “I have discussed it with Sarah, and we feel it is in Megan’s best interests for her to stay with you, and let you adopt her as your child.” His voice caught and choked. “Sarah wants to leave here...go to town. So, we are moving to Bath and do not feel it would be an appropriate place for...for a child like her.”

  Predictably, Lucian squeezed Stanzy’s hand under the table to stay her mouth, in his anticipation she would blurt out something to the tune of how Meg was just a burden to them. But though she believed that true, she was actually sighing with relief at this revelation.

  For once, Lucian was wrong about her reaction. Now that she was certain Meg was to stay with them, she would take no risk that might jeopardize the adoption.

  “I also have the papers, entitling you to the land you were promised, and you are free from my employ.”

  “Good luck, Ian,” Lucian said, extending his hand.

  “You are a good man, Lucian,” he said in return and headed out the door without a backward glance.

  The second the door shut, Stanzy flung herself into his arms. “She is ours.”

  “There is only one more thing I require to make this family complete,” he said, looking into the room where Will and Ben sat on the floor with Megan.

  Tears of joy clouded her vision as she looked into his face. “And what would that be, dear husband?”

  “One more girl, preferably with your eyes, and my temperament.”

  She slapped him hard on the arm.

  With all the rebuilding under way, the week after the storm passed quickly.

  One-time slaves were now employed by Lucian as free workers, and the restoration of StoneWater was going smoothly.

  Lucian kept his promise with regard to trying for a little girl to add to their brood. It seemed he couldn’t keep his breeches on for any length of time. He was happier than Stanzy had ever seen him when he left for the port to restock their destroyed stores. He turned in the wagon to smile and wave his hat at her as he wound his way out of the estate.

  Later, with the arrival of dusk, she stood on the porch squinting to make out the approaching horseman.

  The rider carrying the mail pouch dismounted and strode toward the cottage. “Mrs. Blackwell?”

  “Yes?”

  “This letter is for you. I am afraid it was delayed by the storm.”

  He wasn’t even off the porch before she had it torn open.

  Katrina’s handwriting, which she barely recognized, was forced and almost illegible.

  “Dear Stanzy,

  “By the time you read this, you may call me Mrs. Teache. I have resolved to marry Edward and invite you to come to our home at Hammock House as soon as you are able. You were such a fool to have turned him down, but no matter, for now he is mine!

  “I hope to see you soon. I often think of our days together on the voyage from England and the lucky girls who linked themselves to sailors on that voyage! Now I am one of them!”

  “Your dearest,

  “Katrina”

  “Heavens be merciful,” was all Stanzy uttered, and within a quarter hour she was en route to Hammock House.

  ~ * ~

  Lucian sat at the bar in Nags Head and ordered ale for the cheery, albeit drunk, Abernathy Hornigold.

  “So you think you have him?” said Lucian, almost as bleary eyed.

  “Yes, it should all end very soon, and I will be free to return home to my family! Everything has come to a head with his latest marriage to a young beauty named Katrina. By my ciphering, his twelfth or thirteenth wife.”

  Lucian spewed the beer in his mouth onto the bar.

  ~ * ~

  Stanzy had ridden through the night, refusing to stop. Taylor Creek was now in sight, so she knew the pirate's cottage was close. Hammock House was located somewhere along the river. Astride her mount, she scanned the countryside with squinted eyes.

  Her breath hitched in her throat at the sight. Situated high on a knoll, it wasn’t the white house itself which caught her eye. A young girl was swinging from a noose on a tree in front of the dwelling; her body flowed in time with the gently blowing breeze.

  Drawing her rifle, she kicked the horse on, offering a silent prayer that she wasn’t pregnant, and about to get two people killed instead of one. Dismounting, she skulked toward the house, skirting from one tree to the next. Crumpling, she grabbed hold of the tree for support; her legs shook so violently, she wasn’t sure she could walk, let alone rescue Katrina. She snuck again to the tree nearest the house. Her hands shook as she prepped the rifle. Carefully, she ticked off the steps with Uncle Delvin's voice as her guide, so that the lead didn’t become stuck in the barrel and blow up in her hands.

  Her Uncle Delvin’s instructions came to her then—her mind’s eye picturing his massive gentle hands lifting the rifle to its proper height. She raised the end of the musket and looked through the sights as she whispered in her mind: The higher the angle of the rifle, the longer the trajectory.

  She snuck up behind the tree where the young girl was hanging and closed her eyes for a minute before looking up. A mixture of revulsion and relief washed over her when she realized it wasn’t Katrina.

  The poor girl had been lovely, and of a foreign descent Stanzy was unable to pinpoint. And very much pregnant. For a moment it didn’t register and then it shook her to the core… It was the woman who had accused Lucian of infidelity. Teache had been behind the charade all along, and this poor creature had been his pawn. She quickly said a prayer for her and continued on toward Hammock House.

  Stealthily, she moved around the back of the house and peered in a window. Not a soul was in sight. As quietly as possible, she turned the handle and slowly pushed the door open. Still seeing no one, she slid in and tiptoed through the kitchen, stopping and cocking her head to the side, straining to hear any voices or sounds.

  She searched the entire downstairs, then looked up the stairwell. If she went up, and if there were more than one man, she would be trapped. But what choice did she have? Katrina, the fool, was undoubtedly here.

  With her gun held at the ready, she ascended the staircase. When she reached the landing at the top, her heart sank. In the room to her left was Katrina, bound and gagged.

  Their eyes met briefly and Stanzy stepped toward her. Katrina shook her head back and forth, her eyes widening in horror. No!

  Click.

  Stanzy turned to face Teache, towering over her with his pistol cocked, pointed at her temple.

  “Allo, beautiful. Did you like our letter? Come to bring us a weddin’ gift? Let us head down the stairs to the porch. You will
love the view.”

  With the pistol to the back of her head, he wrenched the rifle from her fingertips and guided her roughly by the elbow down the stairs and out onto the porch.

  “Search ‘er. I am sure the clever lass has come prepared.”

  A sailor smiled, revealing blackened teeth. His breath stank of old ale as he groped in search of any concealed weapons. He found and removed a knife she'd strapped to the inside of her thigh. The sneer he gave as he extracted it sickened her.

  Constanza said nothing, but counted the number of seamen she could see—fifteen in all.

  “Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I knew I must have you. And when you showed such dislike for me, it made me all the more determined to have my way. Let me explain it to you plain like...” Teache leered within an inch of her face. She could see the black in his teeth, and the smell of him was soured ale. He continued, “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. You see, all I have ever wanted was you, Constanza, not the spoiled, whining princess tied to the chair upstairs. The likes of her is a dime a dozen; but you...you are the real treasure. I can either take her chastity, then kill both of you, or you can give yourself willingly to me, and your sister will go free.”

  A disembodied feeling overtook her as if she merely observed from afar. Her mind splintered like shattered glass as it tried in vain to find an alternate reality than the one laid at her feet.

  Lucian’s beautiful face came to mind, and she felt shame at the act she must consent to—to save them.

  “Let her go. I want to watch her get on a horse and ride away before you—” But she vomited before she could finish.

  ~ * ~

  Everything around her was cloudy. Putting her hands to her head, she tried to focus, but her mind refused. Her faculties felt bludgeoned; Teache had stolen something from her soul that could not be retrieved. No amount of time would heal this damage to her spirit.

  He is pure evil...and I’ve lain with him.