Chapter Ten
Charity awoke the next morning feeling more refreshed than she had in days. After Dane had returned from lighting the fire he guided her above stairs helping her get familiarized with the layout of what would be her bedchamber for goodness how long. Showing her where he had laid out her toiletry items, hair brush, pins and her lilac scented soap Dane then handed her night rail which he had set out to dry before the fire. Bidding her good night he was gone before she could even express her thanks.
Crawling under the covers Charity laid there listening to the flames, wishing she had had the foresight to ask Dane to douse the fire. Her biggest fear was being caught in a house fire, she knew that there would be next to no possibility of her surviving. She didn’t know how long she laid there but exhaustion soon had her heavy eyelids closing as sleep came over her.
Listening Charity could hear that the rain was still falling outside though not as hard and heavy as it had been when her and Dane had first arrived. She could also hear movement coming from down below, what sounded like pots and dishes banging together. After a moment Charity realized what smelled like ham and eggs cooking on the stove blended with the sharp aroma of coffee was coming from the kitchen right below her chambers.
Throwing off the covers she started to dress and when she couldn’t find her corset after much careful searching she decided to go without the restricting garment. Making her way slowly down the stairs using her hands along the wall and counting out the number of stairs she was able to follow the sounds and aromas to find the kitchen. When she stopped in the doorway she greeted Dane who she could hear humming a tune while he worked.
“Good morning, that smells delicious.”
“Good morning to you too Charity.”
Her heart did a crazy little flip at the sound of her name, glad he was back to using it instead of Miss Price which she did not like hearing him voice nearly as much.
Dane took her over to the table, they counted the steps together and then he pulled a chair out for her saying, “Hope you are hungry. We had a veritable feast left on the doorstep this morning.”
“Yes I can hardly wait,” her mouth was watering just from the smell of the ham frying in the pan.
“Coffee?”
“Please.”
He set the cup down right in front of her fingers, “Sugar?”
Shaking her head she took a sip finding it quite to her liking, “I prefer it without, thank you.”
“Not many women do,” he sounded impressed.
“Doctor and Mrs. Phillips served it that way. They said after a trip they had taken to France where they were introduced to the drink they just had to have the same once back home in England.”
“They travel to France often?” Dane asked as he set a plateful of breakfast in front of her.
“Not really, Andrew spent most of his time at the hospitals. Sometimes he would be there for days before dragging himself back home.” Charity told him while she used her fork to map out the food on her plate, locating the slice of ham before picking up her fork.
“Andrew?”
She cocked her head slightly, there was something in his voice that she did understand. Did he sound jealous?
“Dr. Phillips,” she replied.
“Would you like me to do that?”
“Thank you but no. I am quite capable of cutting my own food.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t capable, Charity. You are probably the most capable woman I have ever known.”
Her fork stalled just before reaching her mouth, his compliment bringing a blush to her cheeks. “That’s kind of you to say but unnecessary.”
She didn’t need empty compliments when she knew she was not as capable as she would like, she relied on others for her safety and day to day necessities and she knew she always would. Plus she understood that she was just part of his job with the home office and as soon as the would be assassin and traitor were discovered Dane would no longer be in her life. It was best for her to accept that now and not be fooled by his kind words.
“I know that I will always be a burden, that it will be difficult to be on my own.” She said without the melancholy she suddenly felt and shoved the ham in her mouth not wishing to say anything further. She could feel him watching her for several long seconds before he tucked into his meal.
They ate in silence and when Dane stood to clear their dishes Charity stopped him.
“Please let me clean up. You were so gracious to do the cooking and I would like to be of some use around here as I’m sure you must have matters to attend to.”
She didn’t know if he actually did but she couldn’t just sit around while he did everything for her. Standing she took his plate and moved with careful steps to the counter, counting as she went before returning to retrieve her dirty dishes.
Dane stopped her with a hand on her arm, “Thank you. And just so you know... you are not a burden.”
She nodded her head and had to turn away before he saw how much his gentle words affected her. She was used to Violet telling her the same thing but to hear it from Dane warmed her skin and set her heart racing.
From across the room she asked, “Is there water for washing?”
“There’s a bucket to your right and next to it is a basin for washing. I put a pot on water on the stove to heat already. You’ll be careful not to burn?”
“Of course, thank you.” Pleased that he allowed her a small bit of independence.
Charity heard him move to the door and as soon as he opened it was assailed by the same ugly stench as she smelt the day before. Before he could step through and close the door behind him she asked, “Dane what is the horrid smell?”
“The town of Whitby is successful for many things. Whaling is one. There is more whale oil produced here than anywhere else in England.”
“It smells awful,” she told him wrinkling her nose.
“It won’t be so bad when the wind changes direction,” she could hear him smiling.
“Well hurry up and close the door, you’re letting the stench in,” she told him dryly, listening to his chuckle as he did her bidding. She liked the sound of his laugh, it was like warm honey.
It took the remainder of the morning for Charity to do the cleaning up of the dishes, swept and mopped the floor before setting about to learning everything she could about the small kitchen. She opened every cupboard door and memorized the contents before she moved onto the pantry. Finding that Dane had not exaggerated when he told her a feast had been left for them. On the shelves she found loaves of bread and jars of preserves, wheels of cheese, eggs and bacon along with fresh apples and her favorite, oranges. Sacks of flour, sugar, and salt rested on the floor against the back wall.
In the cold box she recognized the ham that Dane had cut for their breakfast as well as roast beef and chicken. There were three jars and once she removed the lid from one she knew it was fresh milk. Closing the lid with fingers numbed by the frigid ice Charity took the roasted beef to the counter to prepare lunch for Dane once he returned.
It took some precise and patient maneuvering but she was able to slice the bread, cheese, and meat and have the thick hardy sandwiches made just as Dane walked through the door.
“You have been busy,” hearing the pleasure in his voice had made her efforts worthwhile.
Charity could smell the fresh cut wood that he must have carried in with him and when he moved to the stove she heard him stacking the pieces in the wood box that sat next to it. Waiting while he splashed water in the basin and washed up before sitting at the table to eat Charity wondered if he had removed his shirt. This caused her mind to race back to the night at the inn when he had allowed her to learn the shape of him. In her mind’s eye she pictured his broad shoulder and chest all hard and warm sinew his muscle rippling under her fingers as they traced over his skin. She had memorized the shape, feel, and scent of him and now those memories assaulted her from every angle making her heart race, her heated blood pumping through her veins.
All through luncheon Charity was deeply aware of Dane sitting across from her. She could hear him biting into the sandwich she had prepared and imagined his teeth nipping a path over her skin. He would hum his pleasure over the simple meal and she would imagine him making similar noises as she kissed and caressed his lethal body. He would lick his lips on occasion and her mind conjured up images of him licking over her skin on his way down her body to find that place between her thighs.
Oh goodness! She had to stop thinking about Dane like that!
Pushing away from the table Charity went about putting away the luncheon items, her sandwich left untouched on her plate. She was so deep in reprimanding herself that she had not noticed Dane coming to stand beside her until her arm brushed against his flat firm stomach when she reached for the basin, startled it clanged to the floor.
Dane bent to retrieve it asking, “Are you well Charity you look flushed. I hope you are not coming down with something after the drenching yesterday.”
She began filling the basin with warm water to keep her hands busy so she wouldn’t reach out for him, “I’m perfectly fine. I just...it’s rather...it’s nothing. I’m fine.”
He stood watching her for a few minutes and she wondered if he was going to question her further until he turned and moved to the door.
“I need to send a message to Matherson so I’ll be going into town for a while. Is there anything you would like me to bring back?”
Shaking her head she asked,”Aren’t you afraid of being seen?”
“The nice thing about Whitby being a port town there is alway strangers coming and going off the ships in dock so no one will take much notice to one more in their town. Besides,” she heard the teasing tone back in his voice, “I’m a spy remember, I’m a master of disguises.”
Charity couldn’t contain her surprise at his statement, “Are you in disguise now?”
He chuckled opening the door, “Now that is something you may never know.”
Dane heard his quick “Wait” as he closed the door behind him, a smile splitting his cheeks and he wondered how long she would ponder that little tidbit.
All through lunch he could see her mind working and the way her cheeks were flushed and her breasts rose and fell with her quick breaths he knew exactly what she was thinking. He had become more and more aroused as he watched her tiny tongue sweep across her lower lip leaving it glistening and it took all his will power not to leap across the table and devour it.
He hadn’t really planned on going into town but sending a message to his spymaster was just the excuse he needed to get out of the cottage before he did something they both would regret later. Dane had changed out of his finer clothes that he brought with into the rougher working man clothes that he found in his bedchamber. Linen shirt under a drab woolen coat and pants and a flat cap pulled low over his brow completed the disguise.
It was nearly a twenty minute walk to Whitby, a town split in two by the River Esk and he was thankful the rain had diminished despite the lead grey clouds that hung low in the sky. His trek took him passed the east cliffs where perched atop headlands was the commanding presence of an ancient monastery long ago abandoned when viking marauders invaded the area. Up close the ruined roofless remnants of a long ago age was still impressive in the magnificent stone work still rich in detail despite the salty sea spray, constant wind and rain.
Down the Church Stairs, one hundred and ninety nine steps, he counted, then onto the cobbled Church street with its tightly pack quaint little whitewashed cottages, bigger houses with backyards and gardens and numerous narrow winding alleys. Here he took several different routes just to make certain he wasn’t being followed until he reached Bridge Street where he pulled his cap low and stuffed his hands in the trouser pockets and ambled across the bridge over the River Esk, keeping his head down so as not to attract attention upon himself. Upon reaching Pier Street Dane posted his letter written in code to Matterson before finding a tavern where he hoped to learn something pertaining to his investigation into treason.
Dane had all but given up of finding any useful information among the drunken sailors and miners and he about to leave the tavern when a group of dock workers slipped through the door. Walking passed Dane’s table he overheard them talking about a wager among them to see who could get the mysterious and evasive Spanish beauty into their bed. Immediately Dane’s thoughts went to Maria Benavidez. Was it possible that she had fled London to come to this small port town instead of returning home?
Inviting two of the men to join him at his table, ordering a round of ale Dane introduced himself with a heavy Scottish accent as Duncan MacCallen. The one fellow, Carlin Tully had flaming red hair, a riot of freckles and bright green eyes whereas his friend, Daniel Wakefield had dark hair that curled over his collar. His eyes were a striking deep blue that sparkled with merriment but were perceptively shrewd, as if he saw more than most. Both men stood tall and broad, thick muscled from heavy dock work.
The three men chatted amicably while Dane plied them with ale hoping to loosen their tongues. He noticed that Daniel was not so eager to accept his generosity as his red headed companion who spoke on any subject with alacrity. Steering the conversation to the subject of his interest Tully was quite happy to tell him all about the woman they coveted.
“A real beauty she is.” the younger man said leaning forward in his chair, a far away dreamy look in his green eyes. “Long luscious dark hair, lips just begging to be kissed, big brown eyes I guy could get lost in and,” he smirks as he raises both hands in front of his chest as if he is cupping something, “these great big tits just begging for a man’s hands.”
Dane wiggled his eyebrows and with a salacious grin he asked, “So ye ha lain with her?”
“Hell no,” the fellow scoffed falling back so hard his chair rocked on spindly legs, “the bitch thinks she’s to good for the likes of us. Says she some sort of relative to the king of Spain.”
Dane’s heart raced in his chest. Could it be true, that Maria was in hiding here at Whitby, the very place he brought Charity to keep safe.
Keeping his voice lecherous Dane asked, “Mayhaps she be waitin’ for a real man to satisfy ‘er.”
Tully straightened in his chair laughing dryly, “And you think you are that man? I assure you you are not. The lady has extremely fine tastes that do not run to the likes of us. It seems she spreads her legs for only one man, some important bloke from London.”
“Ere be only one way ter find out. Where might one find this lady of distinction?”
“Aboard the Flying Anne an impressive three mast tied up down the dock aways. Been docked there for a couple months already or so we’ve been”
“An ye donna think a Scottish laird such as meself would ‘ave a shot of dippin’ one in ‘er? Is her feller from Lon’on rogering ‘er right now?”
Daniel threw his head back for a good laugh, “Sorry my good fellow but you are way out of Maria’s league. She wouldn’t give you a second glance even with her man nowhere in sight right now.”
Maria! Having his suspicions confirmed Dane, scratching his two day stubble covering his chin he speculated out loud as to who her gentleman caller could be but neither of the dock workers could tell him.
Why was Maria still in England on board a ship that had been docked for so long? What were they waiting for?
It was nearing sunset before Dane bid the two men good evening and left the tavern. He would have to hurry if he was going to make it back to the cabin before dark. Cursing himself for leaving Charity alone for so long he rushed over the bridge and through the streets. He didn’t know why Maria’s presence in the area caused him such great concern for Charity but it did. Call it a spy’s intuition. By the time the cottage came into view his heart slammed in his chest and his lungs screamed for air.
∞∞∞
After Dane had left abruptly for town and she managed to curb her anxiety over being left alone again Charity cleaned up the kitchen. When she was done she was feeling quite fatigued so she climbed the stairs to bedchamber. Removing her dress and petticoats she climbed under the covers wearing just her chemise and underpants and was soon fast asleep.
She could never figure out why one time she could sleep peacefully yet the next she was plagued by her nightmares. Every night while travelling with Dane her slumber had been dream free and even last night despite the scare she had when he left her in the rain she had a dreamless night.
That didn’t stop the horrors from visiting her in her afternoon slumber. They always started the same with the angry distorted face of her uncle looming over her with Violet crying out for help in the background. This quickly fades to her being trapped in a room surrounded by a multitude of faces screaming and screeching at her, their hands tearing at her clothes and hair with Hubert struggling to push through the crowd to come to her aid but being driven back each time. Suddenly she is running down a long corridor and every time she had this same dream it was always nurse Hemplestead standing at the end blocking her escape but this time someone else stood there.
In this new version of her nightmare she saw Dane waiting for her, holding out his hand beckoning her to hurry, his promise to keep her safe echoing off the walls that seemed to move in on her. When she stepped toward Dane the movement of another figure lurking in the dark shadows covered in black, his face vacant and unseen. She tries to scream a warning but she is too late. She watches in horror as a bright crimson stain like a rose opening its petals spreads across his chest in stark contrast with the pristine white of his shirt. He looks at her with pleading eyes asking her over and over, “Why?”
In a flash the dark specter is directly in front of her, his black cloak swirling around them both, swallowing her up smothering her screams.
Charity, a small scream escaping, came awake fighting the bedding tangled around her only after several minutes did she realize that she was alone in her bed. Sitting up she brushed the damp tendrils off her forehead, her skin was cold and clammy and she was trembling as she shook off the last vestiges of the nightmare.
Slipping out of bed she reached for her petticoats which she stepped into and secured around her waist before reaching for her dress that she had laid over the back of the chair but it was not there. Puzzled she searched her memory and was almost certain that was where she had dropped it before climbing into bed. Carefully searching around the room she finally located her dress draped over the footboard of the bed. Slipping it over her head she dismissed the odd feeling about the misplaced dress as being remnants of her nightmare.
Hearing movement from below Charity thought that Dane must have already returned from his jaunt to town so she quickly finished dressing and went downstairs. When she called out to him and he didn’t answer she moved to the kitchen but found he was not there either. Thinking that perhaps she had been hearing things Charity stood in the middle of the room and sighed heavily, drawing a big breath of air through her nose. That was when she smelt it, a very faint scent that had not been on the air earlier, a scent that the disgusting smell of whale oil could not mask. The scent of roses.