CHAPTER 15
Teach
Teach could not believe that the girl sitting by his side was the same one who’d assaulted him with a pail in the market. Nor could he believe he’d brought her here, to his mother’s favorite resting spot.
Not even Patience knew of this place, and Teach was unsure if he would ever show it to her. Something inside him balked at the idea, for he knew she would fail to appreciate its simple beauty. Patience would only notice what was lacking. It wasn’t a grand residence. It was a cottage, with two rooms and a quaint porch. His mother had had no desire to ruin the natural surroundings with anything large or garish.
Perhaps Teach would keep it for his own, a secret getaway when married life to Patience grew to be too much for him.
Unnerved by his train of thought, Teach bit back a curse. He wasn’t even married yet, and already he was planning trips without his future bride-to-be? It did not bode well for their union.
Neither did the fact that he was quite enjoying Anne’s company. He recognized in her the same restless spirit that he possessed, and he was glad he’d chosen to spend the day with her. Teach could see that in her own way, she was beginning to trust him.
The rays of the sun peered down through the trees, warming the area where Teach and Anne sat. He’d taken the liberty of bringing two chairs from the cottage out to the ledge, and they watched the river flow through the gorge below.
Teach pulled out Dampier’s book from his coat pocket and held it aloft. “Would you be so kind as to continue where you left off?” he asked.
Anne smiled, but shook her head. “No.”
Shocked, he raised his brows at her. “No? I thought you liked hearing about all of their adventures.”
“I do. It’s like holding a dream in my hands. But you’re no longer ill,” she said pointedly. “And I am no longer required to wait on you hand and foot.”
Teach grinned, liking the fact that he never knew what kind of a reaction he would receive from her. Just when he thought he had Anne figured out, she turned around and surprised him.
“All right. I’ll read to you. What chapter were we on?” he asked.
“As much as I’ve enjoyed the book, I would actually like to hear more about your adventures. You mentioned at dinner the other day that you were attacked by a Spanish sloop and that your captain died of his injuries. If it isn’t too painful, I would like to hear the tale.”
Teach could not picture Patience showing any interest in his activities at sea. Nor his father. Even William, despite professing to be such a good friend, would sooner discuss affairs of the state than listen to any accounts of life on a merchant ship. “Well, I’m not sure where to begin. I left England four months prior to the attack, and we’d managed to trade all of the goods we’d secured. Our captain was a good man, handpicked by Andrew Barrett himself. Barrett expected integrity from all of his employees, whether they were a simple cook or a captain on one of his ships. I was impressed with the crew, for they were all decent men.”
“You seem to hold Andrew Barrett in high regard,” Anne said, folding her hands in her lap.
Teach nodded. “I do, and I was sorry to hear about his death. Henry brings dishonor to the family name.”
Anne grimaced.
“I’m sorry for bringing up Henry. I forgot you used to work for him. That can’t have been pleasant.”
“No, I’m sorry. I interrupted your story.” She gave him a small smile. “Please, continue.”
“We’d just left the port of Tortuga and planned to rendezvous with some others in Barrett’s fleet off the coast of Jamaica. It was near there that we spotted the first war ship. The Spaniards were dependent on the direction and strength of the wind, so we had an advantage, in that we could outmaneuver them. As they bore down on us, we attempted to get to windward, but were unsuccessful. Three of our sailors were hit by a barrage from the ship’s guns as she passed.”
Teach looked off to the woods, somber and thoughtful. “We shot back and managed to wound several of the sailors. With no one at the helm, their ship rounded into the wind and lay helpless. We continued to shoot every man who attempted to take the rudder, and targeted their sails until they were shredded.”
Teach paused in his story to catch a breath. Glancing again at Anne, he noted the rapt attention she gave him, clearly fascinated and aghast by his account.
“What happened next?” she asked.
Teach frowned. “The Spaniards continued to fire, and our captain took two shots to the chest. It was at that moment that I noticed two powder kegs on the deck of the other ship. Knowing it was our only chance of survival, I ordered our helmsmen to bring us closer. The Spanish captain commanded everyone to hit the deck, and I took a shot. It wasn’t enough to destroy their ship, but it gave us the distraction we needed to escape.” Teach remembered with vivid clarity the sights and sounds of the men as some of the Spaniards had caught fire when the keg had exploded. He could still hear their cries as they leapt into the ocean in an attempt to douse the flames burning their flesh.
Anne reached out and touched his arm, seemingly aware of his haunted reflections. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
Teach looked down at the hand on his sleeve, overcome with a sudden urge to cover it with his own. Instead he cleared his throat and looked out across the gorge. It took him a moment to answer. “I have since come to terms with that event,” he said, his voice raw.
“You saved their lives.”
Teach met her eyes and saw in them understanding and compassion.
“Yes, by taking the lives of others.”
“If it hadn’t been for you, more men on your ship would have perished, yourself included,” she said.
Teach shrugged. “If it’s God’s will for me to go, who am I to stop it?” he asked.
Anne gave a short laugh. “That might be, but God also gave you a brain and intellect. Would you rather have stood by and let them kill the lot of you?”
“All I know is that I never want to watch a man suffer like that at my hand again.”
The silence that followed was pressing, and Teach realized that whenever the two of them spoke, he revealed more about his past than she did about hers. He was determined to change that.
“Enough about me,” Teach said. “Tell me, do you have any family?”
“No one to claim me.”
Teach was amazed at her ability to avoid answers. “What does that mean, exactly?” he pressed.
“My parents are dead.”
He studied her face. There was an unmistakable look of sadness in her eyes, and he regretted his insistence that she clarify her statement. “I’m sorry for your loss, but that means there is no reason for you to leave my father’s household.”
“It does not matter whether I stay there or not. Once you marry Miss Patience, you will live with her at her estate.”
His head jerked back as if he had been slapped. “Why do you insist on bringing Miss Patience into every conversation?” he demanded.
Anne frowned. “I only speak the truth. Am I wrong in assuming you will soon be married?”
His mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “No. If my father has his way, we will be wed within the year.”
“And if you had your way?”
“If I had my way, I would leave tomorrow on the first ship sailing out of Bristol, regardless of its destination.” And never return. Afraid that once more he’d said too much, Teach stood abruptly. “I believe we should go back.”
Anne waited as he placed the chairs once more inside the cottage. He led the way through the trees, and they found their horses exactly as they had left them. Lifting her back up into her saddle, he allowed his fingers to linger slightly longer than necessary on her waist. She glanced at him sharply, but Teach pretended not to notice.
He did not truly desire to return to the house, but knew it would not do to remain any longer in the woods.
They rode back in relative silence. Teach was tired. Perhaps it was a lingering effect from his illness.
As the house drew nearer, he felt the familiar bands of tightness settling around his heart. Anne’s own face mirrored his, for her eyes were no longer shining, and her cheeks were no longer flushed.
At the weeping willows on the outside of his father’s property, Anne stopped and dismounted. “Just in case the others have returned, I do not think it’s wise for them to see us arriving together. I will return the riding habit as soon as possible.”
“You may keep the garments. My only concern is if they see you in them. They’ll know we were together.” He realized too late that he hadn’t thought things through.
Anne bit her lip. “Perhaps if you went in first, you could arrange some kind of distraction? I could slip in through the kitchen and head upstairs to change.”
If she entered through the back way, there would be too many opportunities for her to be discovered. Teach shook his head. “No, I will go in first and return the horses to the stables. You go through the front door and enter your quarters from the other side of the house. They’ll be less likely to see you.” He paused. “Unless they’ve already determined that you aren’t in your room.”
“No, they aren’t so concerned for my welfare that they would go and inquire after me.” Striding away, she disappeared around the corner of the wall.
Teach led the horses in through the garden, searching for movement near the back of the house. There was no sign of the groom as Teach entered the barn and unsaddled the horses, giving them a cursory brushing before heading for the kitchen door. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him. He’d sent Anne to the front of the house, and he was stealing in through the back.
Passing through the kitchen, he was on his way to the stairs when he first heard the shouting. It was Margery. Even from his vantage point down the hall, it was clear she was angry.
“Don’t lie to me, girl!” Her words were followed by the distinct sound of a slap.
Teach rounded the corner, just as Margery raised her arm again. Anne reached out and caught Margery around the wrist, clearly unwilling to yield to yet another strike.
“Stop!” Teach thundered, his voice exploding throughout the entryway.
Both Margery and Anne turned to see him barreling toward them, his face contorted with rage. “If you strike her again, I will have you removed from this household. You will not find another position for as long as you shall live!”
Anne released Margery’s suddenly limp arm.
Margery’s mouth dropped open, the anger in her eyes dying like a flame dipped in water. “But, but . . . sir, I caught her sneaking into the house, dressed like that!” She pointed to Anne, still clothed in the riding habit.
Teach studied Anne’s appearance from head to toe, looking for any more signs of ill treatment, but thankfully could see none. Rounding once more on the old woman, he leaned forward, speaking through clenched teeth. “It’s a riding habit.”
Margery blinked. “Yes . . . yes, I know, sir.”
He raised his eyebrows at her. “Is that a crime?”
The housekeeper flushed beneath the obvious scorn in his voice. “No. Yes. She’s . . . How did she get it?”
An answering fire flared in Anne’s eyes. “I told you, it was a gift.”
“Where have you been, dressed like that?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Anne snapped.
Margery straightened. “As housekeeper, it’s my business to know exactly what is going on—”
Teach waved his hand impatiently. “She already said it was a gift.”
“Yes, but you told me several things have gone missing, and—”
“You will not say another word,” Teach growled. He’d given her specific instructions to keep silent about the stealing, but Margery was too upset to notice.
“If anyone’s taken anything from your father, it would be that one. She’s the by-blow of some foreign gutter wench and a sailor, no doubt raised on the streets.” Margery turned on Anne once more. “And to think I trusted you. You can’t even follow directions proper like. I ran into the butcher while I was in town. He said you haven’t been to buy meat from him since the young master returned.”
Anne jumped forward. “Because he wanted more payment than I was prepared to give! If you want his wares so badly, then I suggest you lie with him!”
Margery dove for Anne’s face, her arms outstretched and her teeth bared. Teach was able to scoop Anne out of the way as she scrambled to get hold of Margery’s sleeves, the two of them clawing like cats.
A pounding at the front door brought the argument to a halt. Teach, for one, was grateful for the reprieve.
Holding on to Anne’s arm, he practically dragged her with him, keeping a stern eye on the housekeeper. “Margery, you will pack your bags at once,” Teach said.
“But who will run your father’s house in the meantime? Her?” Margery shrieked.
Teach hadn’t thought of the particulars. He only knew he wanted to keep Margery away from Anne. His jaw was clenched so tight, it ached. “Return to the kitchen. I will discuss your position with my father. Until then, you are not to speak to Anne, do you understand? You are not to go near her.”
Margery nodded, glaring at Anne before turning on her heel and stalking away, her limp pronounced.
Anne trembled, whether from anger or nerves, Teach was unsure. She tried to wrest her arm from his grip, but he tightened his hold.
“I still wish to speak with you,” he muttered.
“And I wish to change.”
Teach deposited Anne in a nearby chair. “Do not move.” Wrenching open the front door, he came face-to-face with a small boy standing on the front step. The boy jumped at the look on Teach’s face, and quickly handed him a small note. A handsome carriage was waiting in the drive.
“What’s this?” Teach snapped.
“A letter from yer father, sir.”
Teach reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. The boy pocketed it and scurried away. The black carriage did not move, and the driver remained seated.
Closing the door with a little more force than necessary, Teach wished he’d chosen to stay in bed this morning instead of rising. Despite his enjoyable afternoon with Anne, it had already been a grueling day, and it was not over yet.
After ripping open the delicate paper, he scanned the contents.
I know you have recovered, and would like you to come to the Hervey estate at once. I have sent a carriage to collect you. Until this evening. Richard Drummond
Teach was not surprised by his father’s words. Of course his father would know he’d recovered. Teach was actually surprised it had taken him this long to send for him. His father never had been one to favor sentiment over practicality. There was nothing in the letter about wishing to spend more time with his wayward son.
No, his father needed him to come and secure the betrothal with the Herveys.
Truly this day could not get any worse.
Looking down, he discovered Anne had already moved and was headed up the stairs at a fast pace.
“Anne!” he called out.
She cringed, stopping where she was, and turned slowly.
He took the stairs two at a time, and came to a halt at her side. “What Margery said . . . pay her no heed. I will have my father dismiss her immediately.”
Anne met his eyes, her gaze firm. “I was not born in the gutter like she says. Nor was I raised to work in someone’s household. I do not know what my father wished for me, but I do not believe it was this.”
Teach chose his words with care, not wanting to upset her further. “I’m sure he wanted you to be happy, whatever you chose.”
“He always told me he loved me, and said he would take care of me,” she said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“I’m sure he did, in his own way, but now that he’s gone—”
Drawing a deep breath, Anne squared her shoulders. “My father was Andrew Barrett. My mother was his cook, Jacqueline. He brought her back with him from one of his trips to the West Indies. I did not work for Henry Barrett. We grew up in the same household together. He’s my half brother.”
Stunned, Teach leaned against the banister, his mouth open, but no words escaped. A thousand questions fought for supremacy, and it took him a moment to gather his thoughts.
Anne stood before him, her hands clenched, and looking every inch the sixteen-year-old girl that she was.
“Why didn’t you mention it before?” he managed to ask.
“What difference would it have made? My father kept my identity a secret. Why, I do not know, but I had no wish to dishonor his memory. Henry knows exactly who I am, and yet he kicked me out of the only home I’d ever known. Why would I think a houseful of strangers would treat me any differently?”
“But surely if my father had known . . . Andrew Barrett was one of his closest friends.”
“What makes you think I would be eager to share my story with someone residing under this roof? You said yourself, after your mother’s death their contact was infrequent. Growing up, I heard the name Drummond once or twice in my father’s home, but I never dined with guests. My parents were rarely seen together, and when I spent time with my father, he never spoke of business acquaintances.”
“I still can’t believe my father didn’t know.”
“When Henry brought me here, he told me to keep my mouth shut and not to cause any problems, or else he would return me to the workhouse where he’d found me a few weeks after my mother passed. As I did not wish to return to that lifestyle, I did as he said.”
Teach’s stomach heaved at the thought of Anne spending time in one of those filthy workhouses. “But surely you could have found a different position elsewhere.”
“Doing what? I have no references. It took my mother weeks to find a job as a cook.”
“I’ll speak with my father. Come with me. Now. We’ll go and tell him who you are.”
Anne retreated up one step, shaking her head. “No. I will not go with you to the Hervey estate.”
“You must. I’ll find you a room somewhere at an inn. You can stay there until I speak with my father—”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I have no desire to see Miss Patience again.”
Teach sucked in a quick breath. “So you wish to stay here with Margery?”
“I prefer to stay here rather than go to a strange inn and sit in a strange room all day. Or all night. At least here I can go to the city. I can get out.”
“You can do that there. There’s a small village—”
“And I will be more out of place there than I am here. I will not go with you.”
Once again Teach was at a loss for words. They stared at each other for several seconds.
“Why are you so stubborn?”
“Why are you so persistent? I will not accompany you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I wish to change.” Anne turned and headed up the stairs.
Teach called out after her. “I’ll instruct Margery to leave you alone. You will no longer perform any chores. Stay in your room—”
Anne shot him a dark look over her shoulder.
“All right, then simply stay out of Margery’s way. I will tell her who you are and that you are no longer employed as a servant.”
She froze on the top step, one hand clutching the banister. “Then what am I?” she asked in a voice that was barely audible. “And where do I belong?” Not waiting for an answer, she picked up her skirts and fled.
Teach watched her go, tempted to force her to accompany him. But deep down he knew she was right. Knowing his father’s temperament as he did, Teach understood that it would be best to confront him alone, and find out how Anne had come to work in the Drummond household.
Unfortunately for Teach, he wouldn’t reach the Hervey estate until later that evening. He could not summon any enthusiasm at the thought of seeing Miss Patience again.
Entering his room, he grabbed a small trunk from his wardrobe, and then threw several garments inside. Henry Barrett’s words raced through his mind. “I could make your life very uncomfortable if you’re not careful.”
By the time Teach left his room, his face had settled into harsh lines. What kind of power did Barrett still hold over Anne? Or had that been an empty threat? Why had Barrett brought her there in the first place? He had to benefit from her position in the Drummond household somehow. Otherwise he would not have bothered taking her from the workhouse. A caring older brother he was not.
It was obvious that Barrett had lied to Anne, and more than likely he’d lied to Teach’s father as well. Either way, it didn’t matter. Teach would make Barrett pay. Stealing his purse had been just the beginning.