Chapter 11

 

Rain beat softly against the glass above the dining table, the storm lulled to a shower.

Royce didn’t hope for a clear day tomorrow or in the near future. Even if the weather grew fair, he had no idea how to access the bloody charts. Diana and Peter were usually in the library on pleasant days, more so when they couldn’t go outside.

“Do you want this or not?” Tristan shook the tray holding the roasted beef.

“Yes, of course.” Royce speared two slices and dropped them on his plate. He had no stomach for food or this evening ritual but had little choice except to endure. “Thank you.”

James filled and lit another oil lamp. Gavra winked at him, poured his tea, then saw to everyone else’s.

Royce emptied his cup. The pleasant brew didn’t comfort him in the least. His mouth remained dry, swallowing difficult.

“Something wrong with your beef?”

At Tristan’s question, Royce shook his head. “It’s quite good.”

“You’ve yet to taste it.”

“It looks juicy and tender, the same as always.” He cut a piece and slipped it into his mouth. “Excellent.”

Tristan exchanged a glance with James. “One would think you’d have a heartier appetite considering the labor you did today. How did things go at Philippe’s?”

“I finished his roof before the clouds arrived. Hopefully, the thatch will hold during the next storm. Are you predicting this newest one will last as long as the other?”

“I have no idea. Nature does what she wants without consulting me.”

Peter chuckled.

Diana passed the bread to Tristan. “Perhaps you should leave Royce to his meal and ask my brother about his studies today.”

“Fine with me. What happened?”

Peter straightened, shoulders squared. “Nothing. Once the rain started, I stayed in the library without pause. If tomorrow proves to be the same as today, I shan’t budge from my chair in there. I’ll stay clear through the night and read every book on the shelves.”

Royce gripped his fork, nails dug into his palm.

“Capital, Peter, and bravo to you.” Tristan raised his teacup in a toast. “To what do we owe your admirable, yet sudden, dedication to your lessons?”

“Laure.” Diana selected a banana. “She insists Peter follow your lead in learning everything he can so she can boast about him to the other women.”

“Smart girl. I hope you’ve thanked her as you should, Peter.”

“How could I?” He rubbed his neck, the skin as red as his face. “I’ve been stuck in the library looking at books, not her. Even if I was free to roam about, Gavra is keeping her busy in the kitchen.”

James scooped fish onto his plate. “Putting together a meal is quite a chore. You should try it sometime. On second thought, stay far away from there and don’t let Gavra hear you complain about Laure’s new tasks. She’s needed in the kitchen. I’m quite sure she’ll appear at your side at midnight or so.”

Tristan and Diana struggled not to laugh.

Royce prayed they were only teasing Peter. Surely, he stopped at a reasonable hour given his hatred for books. “How long into the night do you usually study?”

“Until I finish my work. Those are the new rules I must abide by.”

“Perhaps I can assist if you have questions. Speed things up.”

Interest registered on Peter’s face. “That would help. Once it’s dark, Tristan’s never around. Diana keeps him in their chamber.”

Her face and throat went as red as Peter’s had, matching her silk gown.

Royce turned to Tristan. “Do you mind me helping out?”

“Shouldn’t you be doing so with Simone?”

He’d forgotten mentioning his plan to teach her. “I will. I can do both.”

“Why would you want to?” James asked. “Haven’t we given you enough work repairing and rebuilding the islanders’ homes?”

“Those tasks are at an end until the weather clears.”

James clucked his tongue. “The storm doesn’t allow anyone to remain idle. You can work in here. The storage area needs a good scrubbing. So does the room where we keep the excess furniture.”

Royce fought frustration and panic. “Surely those projects aren’t as important as expanding one’s mind. I can begin with Peter this evening. Do you agree, Tristan?”

“Do what you must. But he completes his assignments, not you for him.”

“Understood.” Royce pushed out of his chair. “We can start now.”

Peter scrunched his face. “I’ve yet to finish my meal. You’ve barely touched yours.”

He sank back down.

James watched the scene. “Odd.”

Diana glanced up. “What is?”

He held Royce’s gaze. “Many things.”

* * * *

James’s comment unsettled Royce as much as having the man’s pistol aimed at his heart. Either James had been teasing good-naturedly or his suspicion had mounted as to Royce’s true purpose here.

He welcomed his escape to the library until he and Peter sat down to work.

Peter was a horrible pupil, unable to keep still for a moment. He drummed his fingers, squirmed, bounced his legs, and glanced at the hall every time footfalls sounded.

Royce stood.

Peter’s face brightened. “Are we through?”

“No.” At this pace, they’d never be. The charts were maddeningly close yet out of reach as long as anyone was in here with him, curious as to why he’d want to see the damn things. He shut the door. “Fewer distractions will hurry things along.”

Peter shoved his book away. “I hate Latin. Can’t use it for anything on this isle. It’s completely useless.”

“Until you need to read Tristan’s books on agriculture and animal health. What’s going to happen once he’s gone and you need that information to keep this island prosperous and the people fed?”

“That’s not going to happen for at least a few years.”

Peter already had Royce and Tristan in their graves. “Do you want to still be doing these lessons when you’re my age? You know, ancient.”

“Hell no. Can’t you hurry things along for me as you promised at the table?”

“How? By opening your head and pouring the information inside?” He pushed the book back and lit another lamp. “You have two more sheets on Latin conjugation before you can see Laure. Pout and delay if you like, but you’ll be in here even longer rather than where you’d prefer to be.”

“Bloody stupid books.” He glared at the tome.

Light rapping sounded. Royce twisted around. “Who is it?”

“Me.” Simone opened the door a crack. “How long will you stay in here?”

“That’s up to Peter.”

She slouched worse than the boy did. “Can I come in?”

“Sorry, no. I’ll see you later, all right?”

“No, but it has to be.” She left.

Peter muttered obscenities, flipped a page so hard he tore the paper, and repeatedly slammed his fist against his chair.

Royce wanted to scream that things would be far worse if Bishop and his men came here. Which they would, without notice, if he didn’t access the charts and send a blasted message.

“There.” Peter pushed his papers away and stood.

Royce grabbed his arm and yanked him down. “I need to review and correct your work before you can leave. This could take a while.”

Peter rested his head on the table.

Surprisingly, much had gotten through his thick skull. Only two minor mistakes. “You did well.”

“Can I leave?”

“Go.”

Peter raced to the door and stopped short before running into Diana. “What are you doing here?”

“This is where the books and my lessons are.” She eyed him. “Have you finished yours?”

“Yes. Only got two exercises wrong out of thirty. I must leave.”

Diana rounded the table and selected a chair.

Royce stood and helped her with it, striving to act natural. “If you don’t mind, I thought I’d stay in here and set up another lesson plan for Peter. When Tristan joins you, I’ll show it to him.”

“He’s settling a dispute between the men and may be a while. Tempers flare with so many cooped up here rather than being in their own homes.”

“Of course.” There’d be no getting the charts tonight. He crossed the room.

“You’re leaving? What about Peter’s next lesson?”

“I’ll work on it in the morning long before he needs the exercises. I didn’t realize how fatigued I am. Have a good evening.”

“You as well.”

Once in the hall, he slammed his fist into his palm and reeled from too many worries. He’d been a fool for behaving so strangely during the meal. James might have spoken to Tristan, then sent Diana into the library to see if Royce snooped where he shouldn’t.

Tristan might guess what he couldn’t yet prove and then hide the charts, forcing Royce to speculate on the island location in order to send some information to Bishop. Hoping for Bishop to set sail and die in a shipwreck was madness. More likely, he’d find his way here, enslave the islanders, and capture or kill Tristan, James, and Peter. Royce sensed Bishop would spare him for torture, forcing him to witness his mother and sisters’ fate.

He stormed into his bedchamber, paced until his legs wouldn’t hold him, and dropped to the bed.

Simone came inside. “I waited in the priest’s room for you to come to me. Why are you here?”

He’d forgotten to join her. “Sorry. I…” He didn’t have the will to speak.

She sank to her knees at his side. “Gavra told me you helped Peter with his lessons tonight. Was he such a bad student?”

Royce embraced her.

Simone pressed her cheek to his. “He was. Your sad face tells me so. I promise to be better and not cause you any trouble.”

“Hold me.”

“I am.”

“Tighter.”

She squeezed his shoulders.

He pulled her onto the bed. “Stay here with me tonight. Promise you will.”

“I do.”

“Don’t let me go.”

“Never.” She pressed her length to his, wrapping him in her soft, fragrant embrace.

Apprehension wouldn’t allow him to relax, draining him further. Depleted, he succumbed to weariness and sleep.

* * * *

Royce dreamed he was in the library. Books reached beyond the ceiling to the heavens. Peter had Latin lessons in his hands, Diana French. Both failed his easy questions, forcing him to repeat himself endlessly. When they glanced at their work, rather than him, he crept toward the charts.

The marble floor cracked, the fissures filled with mud. The gooey substance sucked at his feet, not allowing him to reach the maps.

Simone appeared at his side and handed him the medical book. “You forgot to teach me. I want to learn. Show me how to write tambavy as you did here.” She held up a paper with Tristan’s name scrawled on it. Royce’s message to Bishop was below her thumb.

He tried to snatch the script before the others saw it.

She held the paper out of reach. “You promised to teach me. Did you forget? Did you lie?”

Royce woke, gasping for air.

Simone pushed up and clasped his shoulders. “Did you see your family or Edward in your dream?”

“I can’t recall. Neither probably. I have no bad feeling.”

Excitement pulsed through him, his nightmare providing the answer he’d sought. “I need to get up and begin my day.” Watery light bled around the shutters, relentless rain hammering them.

Simone scooted to the mattress edge. “I should go too and see how Gavra feels. Morning is the worst time for her because of the infant.”

“Go then. Wait.” He hugged her.

“When will we see each other again? Tonight? In here?”

“No. I’ll meet you in the priest’s chamber for the midday meal.”

“I’ll bring you a feast.”

“I only need you.”

She kissed him soundly and bolted away.

As Royce washed, he rehearsed what he planned to say to Tristan. He needed to use few words and behave naturally, rather than as if their lives depended upon a positive answer. If he spoke too much or pleaded his case, Tristan might grow wary. As Shakespeare had written, “Methinks thou dost protest too much.”

Prepared but apprehensive, Royce strode into the dining area. “Good morning, everyone. Mind if I join you?”

Diana, James, and Peter looked at Tristan.

“Not at all.” He gestured to a chair next to him. “I wondered how long you’d last in the kitchen.”

“Simone’s been bringing me my meals for days. However, I don’t think Gavra dislikes me as much as she did. Does she, James?”

“I have no idea how she feels. We don’t discuss you when we’re together.”

“Then all’s right with everyone’s world.” Tristan twisted in his chair to face the kitchen. “I’ll have her bring a cup, plate, and utensils for you.”

“Wait a moment. There’s a matter I’d like to discuss first. I noticed something last night while I was in the library with Peter.”

“What are you saying?” Peter slapped the table. “I did my work. I only got one exercise wrong.”

“Two. I didn’t say I noticed something about you or that it was bad, now did I?”

James licked honey from his spoon. “He never gave you a chance. What did you notice in there besides countless books?”

“Charts.”

Tristan glanced at James. “What about them?”

Last night’s dream had shown Royce how to access the maps without stealing into the library while everyone slept. Or arousing suspicion by asking Peter too many questions about them during his lessons. “Simone’s already eager to learn medical procedures and whatever other knowledge I can depart. I thought it would delight her to see where this isle is located in relation to Madagascar and the African coast. I doubt she realizes what’s beyond these shores.” He smiled. “I’d like her to know there is a boundless world out there. If you have charts of England, I could point out where we hail from.”

Diana beamed. “That is a splendid idea. While you’re at it, you can show me what the markings on the charts mean.”

“I’d be happy too.”

“Hold on now.” Tristan turned his frown on her. “I can teach you everything there is to know about what’s on them. I wrote the information.”

“Indeed, but you failed to explain anything when you, James, Peter, and I were in the library. You poked fun at my questions and they laughed. It’s time to let another party handle my education in this matter. You don’t mind, do you, Royce?”

“Whatever you two decide.” Getting between them might risk his access to the blasted things.

Tristan cupped her chin. “I promise to promptly answer anything you ask and to do so without the smallest smile. I’ll be more somber than your dearly departed father. Your education is mine to see to. Royce can handle Simone’s.”

He stood. “Do you mind if I collect them now?”

“Peter will. He’ll leave them in your room. I want to have a word about you helping Adamo with his house.”

“He asked me to. I didn’t mind.”

James smiled. “Yes, we know. He told us.”

“He had complaints about my work?”

“On the contrary.” Tristan looked at Peter. “Why are you still here? Those charts won’t walk themselves into his room. Go.”

Peter sighed loudly and left.

Tristan eyed Royce as he might a creature he’d never seen before, uncertain whether to be pleased or vigilant. “Where did you learn carpentry and how to construct buildings? You said you were a merchant broker.”

“I am. However, I’ve always liked working with my hands. I told you, physical labor doesn’t frighten me.”

“Good. When the storms stop, I want you to help the islanders rebuild. Adamo said you’re quick, patient, skilled, and you never complain. Exactly what a man wants and deserves in a wife, but few get.”

Diana elbowed him.

“Only joking, my love.” He kissed her cheek. “Do you mind, Royce? We could use you.”

“I’ll do whatever you want.”

Peter ran into the room. “Charts are on your bed. Take care you don’t mess them up.”

“I won’t. I feel foolish asking, but where is this isle in relation to the other land masses?”

Peter gave him the coordinates. “If you can’t find it for Simone, simply point to the first speck you see. She won’t know the difference. No woman would. Except for my sister, of course, since she loves to learn.” He gave Diana a stiff smile.

Royce marveled that she hadn’t killed the boy yet. “That’s why I want to show Simone precisely where we are, so she does know. Thank you all. I’ll take a look at the charts and prepare for her questions.”

“Shouldn’t you be tending the birds now?” James cut his beef. “You always do at this hour.”

They’d been observing him. Royce should have expected as much. “You’re right. Thanks for reminding me.”

“Surprised I had to. You may be good at repairing homes, but we had better not let you near the pigs or hens given how easily you’d forget to feed the poor things.”

Royce laughed with the others, wishing he could tell them the truth. A bullet in his brain would stop that fantasy.

He made fast work of feeding the birds and cleaning their cage.

With oil lamps lighting his chamber, he spread the charts over his bed. Mozambique and Madagascar were easy to spot. This island, however…

Neither Tristan nor James had corrected Peter on what he’d blurted, which meant one of two things. He’d stated the accurate position or he hadn’t, and they didn’t want anyone else to know.

For their sakes and everyone’s on this island, Royce hoped the spot he’d just pinpointed was the proper one. He ran his finger over the chart, selecting another island of similar size, though farther north and having even less access than this one. He wasn’t a mariner, but knew enough to avoid areas such as that given trade winds and currents. A ship unfortunate enough to sail into those waters wasn’t likely to come out.

Bishop’s couldn’t.

Not if Royce had a hand in it, his plan formed.

Bishop was arrogant and foolish enough to insist upon the journey no matter how hazardous. Knowing him, he’d entice a captain and crew to risk their lives for gold, recruiting the most ruthless who’d sell their own mothers and daughters for a few guineas.

All Royce had to do was play to Bishop’s weaknesses, coaxing him to his grave, pointing him there with the message he’d send.

In a perfect world, once the storm season ended, news would come from the other islands about shipwrecks. Bishop’s bloated corpse found. Everyone here would be safe and hidden from the outside world. Royce would find another way to gain the capital he needed to bring his mother and sisters home.

After that…

He’d be older than even he could imagine, needing years to accomplish his goals and would have to leave here to do so. The babe he and Simone might have already created would be a young woman or man when he returned. An islander would have made Simone his. Royce couldn’t ask her to wait for him. That would be too cruel. She deserved more happiness than he could give.

Wind rattled the shutters. The door opened.

Simone padded inside. “Why are you here?”

“Where should I be?”

“The priest’s chamber for the midday meal with me.”

“I didn’t realize so much time had passed.”

“What are these?” She touched the chart nearest him. “What do they say?”

“They tell us where this isle is located in relation to other land masses.”

“You know too much. You confuse me again.”

He pulled her onto his lap. “I’m a brute. I promise to be better. See these small circles here?”

“They look like a hen’s egg. Larger at one end, narrow on the other.”

“How right you are. Those represent the islands Tristan trades with during fair weather. One of them is where the priest is staying.”

Color drained from her face. She pushed the map aside. “Put it away. Never show it to me again.”

“Why? Don’t you want to see where you live and how vast the ocean is that separates this land from England?”

“What is this vast? Why do you use words I can never understand?” She stood. “No, I never want to see this. One day you hope to leave. These things show you how. You can look at them without me.”

He caught her at the door. “I don’t have them in here because I long for England or I’m desperate to return there. I wanted to show you that even though this isle is far smaller than where I grew up, it’s a million times more beautiful. A true home, not simply a place to live. Paradise any man would be mad to leave.”

She turned into him. “You have to for your sisters and mother. I know that, no matter what you say. If you were sad being here, I would die.”

“You want me to leave?”

“You have no choice.”

“Why in the hell can’t I have you and my family’s safety?”

“You mean bring them to this isle?”

“No… I don’t know. I have to figure things out. Fix everything I’ve messed up.”

“You did nothing. Your father did.”

He gathered her in his arms. Her perfumed flesh clouded his thoughts and made him dream when he shouldn’t. “I want to find a way to make everything right for my family and us. What that may be, I have no idea, but there has to be a way. Please say you believe me.”

She hugged him. “Never have I doubted you. Show me this island again and your England home. We can solve your problem together.”

“No. The charts upset you. I want the blasted things out of here and the medical books inside so I can tell you about new potions and poultices you can make. I want to show you how to write tambavy, and teach you the alphabet, and how to read, and—”

She touched his lips, stopping him. “So much in one day? I may fall asleep before you do.”

He laughed. “It will take years to teach you everything I know. Are you with me on that?”

“Oui. I never wanted anything else. But your family…”

“I’ll see to them and to you.”

Happy tears glistened in her eyes. “So much work. You should eat to keep up your strength. I can bring the food in here.”

“I’ll tend the charts while you’re gone.” He gave her a fast kiss. “Don’t make me wait for you.” He’d done so for a lifetime. “Don’t be long.”

“Never.” She opened the door. “I’ll bring you a feast. We can stay in here until your meal with Tristan.”

“Perhaps beyond. Well into tonight. Go.”

She disappeared down the hall. He closed the door.

After reviewing the chart and matching it to what he recalled when he’d first arrived here, he rolled up the papers and dropped them on the chair. Heavier rain fell. He filled and lit another lamp.

Naked feet slapped the hallway floor.

Smiling, he threw open the door.

Tristan advanced, eyes icy, pistol in hand, its muzzle pressed to Royce’s forehead.

He staggered back.

Tristan followed. “One more move and you’re dead, you bloody bastard.”