The hall clock chimed noon just as Elise made her way to the downstairs parlor. A messenger awaited her. Dressed in a white gown embroidered with lavender flowers, a lavender stomacher and yards of white petticoats, she hoped she looked cool and fresh—the exact opposite of how she felt.
In the week since she’d told Drake of her condition, she’d begun to suffer slight bouts of morning sickness. So far, though, today was the worst. Cold chills skimmed over her skin. Moisture broke out on her upper lip. She’d already retched twice, and a third trip to the chamber pot loomed large in the foreseeable future.
Plastering a smile on her lips, she entered the parlor. The messenger’s sour stench turned her delicate stomach. She pressed a hand to her mouth and waited for the queasiness to pass. “I... I apologize for your wait, sir. I’m a bit under the weather this morn.”
He raised his head. She fell back a step, caught off guard by the man’s venomous, yellow eyes.
“No matter, ma’am. I’m only here to deliver this missive from your friend Mr. Smith.”
She reached for the extended note, leery of touching the grimy fellow. “What’s your name, sir?”
The messenger’s mouth tightened ever so slightly. “Brody, ma’am.”
His name didn’t sound any warnings in her memory and she was certain she’d never seen his skeletal face before. She turned her attention to the message. Breaking the wax seal, she unfolded the stiff white stationery and scanned the tremulous script.
I have grave news which I must give to you and only you. You are my last hope. The Dragon and Wolf are not to be found. I beg you. Meet me at quarter to nine at our usual rendezvous. It is a matter of life and death.
Yours,
J
Elise crumpled the starched paper in her bloodless fingers. Dread seeped into her heart as she quickly deciphered the message. Josiah needed her to meet him at The Rolling Tide later that evening concerning a matter of life and death. Zechariah and Christian weren’t to be found. Something was terribly amiss. Josiah knew she’d ceased spying as the Fox. He wouldn’t call on her without enormous cause. He’d put his life on the line too many times to protect her. She wouldn’t ignore his cry for help.
She set aside her misgivings and focused on the eerie messenger. “Tell Mr. Smith I’ll do as he bids.”
In a fine mood, Drake rapped once on Beaufort’s door and entered the Captain’s dockside office. Bright midday sun glinted on the polished pine floors, momentarily blinding him. As his eyes adjusted to the light, the harsh smells of fish and salt from the nearby wharf assaulted his nostrils.
“Your Grace.” Beaufort scrambled to his feet behind a corner desk piled high with stacks of crumpled papers and unopened envelopes.
Drake strode to the window and adjusted the shutters to block out the glare before commanding a seat on the ball-and-claw-footed sofa. “I’ve just returned from my ship, The Queen Charlotte. After receiving your assurance on the Fox’s capture sometime this week, I’m having her readied to sail.”
Beaufort collected a set of crystal goblets and a bottle of port from a nearby cabinet. He offered Drake a drink, but Drake declined. “So soon to quit America? How I envy you, sir. Is your wife reluctant to leave her homeland?”
Drake shrugged. “As a matter of fact, she seems more than eager to be on our way.”
“Strange,” commented Beaufort. “Christian Sayer gave me the impression she rather fancies Charles Towne.”
The bottle clinked on the rim of a glass as the captain poured himself refreshment.
Drake leaned back in his seat. “I’ve grown to quite like the place myself. ’Tis lush country even if it is hot as blazes and everything is rather primitive compared to England. In truth, I find its relaxed attitudes a pleasant change from the formality of London and even Hawk Haven, for that matter. With fewer servants milling about, privacy abounds.”
Beaufort returned to his chair and drank from his own glass. “As a newly wedded man, I’m positive the chance to be alone is much appreciated, eh, Your Grace?”
Drake was in too grand a mood to take offense at his cousin’s flat attempt at wit. “Indeed, Charles, I’m the happiest of men. My wife pleases me more every day. Have I told you I’m to be a father in the spring?”
“Brilliant news, Your Grace!” The captain raised his glass in congratulations. “Perhaps Anthony’s death is a blessing after all.”
Drake’s good mood vanished along with Beaufort’s mirth. He watched his cousin pale as Charles realized how tactless he’d been. Drake gritted his teeth. “Enlighten me to your meaning, Captain.”
“I meant nothing disrespectful. Just that if Anthony had lived ’tis unlikely you would have met your lovely wife.”
Muffled cries of the gulls outside filled the tense silence. “I prefer to think of it as God returning good for evil.”
“I couldn’t agree more, sir.” Obvious in his attempt to return to Drake’s favor, Beaufort picked up an open letter from his desk. “It seems there’s even more good fortune in store. I received this letter minutes before you arrived. Robin Goss has done it. He says we must meet him at The Rolling Tide at nine this evening. The Fox will be ours tonight!”
When the clock chimed seven, Elise dressed with the rain and danger in mind as she prepared to leave for The Rolling Tide. Fortunately, her sickness had receded after lunch and no longer plagued her.
Word arrived from Drake earlier in the afternoon, explaining that business would keep him away until the next morning. As she tied the laces of a black wool dress over black petticoats, it struck her as coincidental, his being away the very night she would have had to make an excuse to leave, but she wasn’t one to question good fortune in tight circumstances. Instead, she laced up a pair of sturdy boots, slipped a loaded pistol into her skirt pocket, and sat down at her writing desk.
When she finished a message to Zechariah she called for Prin. “Is my coach ready?”
“You asked for it, didn’t you?”
Elise didn’t acknowledge her sister’s surly tone. Dear Prin was not happy. “I need Kane to carry this correspondence to Brixton Hall. He must wait until he can give it to either Zechariah or Christian, no other.”
Arms crossed tight across her chest, Prin’s face creased with unease. “I don’t like this whole business, Lisie. I don’t like it one bit. I want you to stay home and for once take care of yourself instead of everyone else.”
Elise set aside her own reservations and patted her sister’s hand in reassurance. Pressing the envelope into Prin’s palm, she gave her a tight hug. “Don’t be such a handwringer. Josiah’s asked for my help and I’m not about to withhold it after all the times he helped me. Just do as I ask, please, and all will be fine.”
“You know I will,” Prin grumbled.
A short time later, Elise dodged the rain and stepped into the waiting coach. As it bounced into motion and gained speed, rain drummed on the roof and blew against the lead glass window.
Outside The Rolling Tide, the coach rocked to a halt. Elise opened the door herself and stepped down, splashing in a puddle on the street. Cold water soaked her boots and the hem of her skirt, making the layers of her clothes cumbersome and difficult to maneuver. She reached up, gave the dark shape of the driver a handful of coins and instructed him to wait for her around the corner.
For several long moments, she observed the tavern from a covered doorway across the street. Smoke poured from the chimney and mingled with the mist rolling in from the harbor. Josiah must have trimmed back the ivy. Light coursed through the front windows and illuminated the slick, wet street. Fiddle music spilled from the doorway as an occasional patron came or went, but she noted nothing out of the ordinary. Even the number of redcoats seemed less than usual.
Taking a deep breath, she waited for a carriage to pass before sprinting across the brick street and into the dark alley that led to the tavern’s back door. Rain doused the front of her dress and poured from the wide brim of her hat. Skimming her fingers along the alley’s rough brick wall to guide her, she saw nothing in the darkness, only heard the scurrying of rodents as they fled her swift steps.
When she reached The Tide’s back door, she yanked it open and rushed inside the kitchen, savoring its instant warmth. The cockney barmaid, Louise, sliced a ham before the blazing fireplace.
“Louise,” Elise said as she removed her hat and shook it under the eaves outside. “Where’s Josiah? I’m to meet him in a few minutes’ time.”
The barmaid ceased her work and wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand. “’E’s above stairs. Said to tell ye ’e’s waitin’ for ye in the last room to the right.”
Elise thanked the blonde as she crossed the kitchen and darted up the tavern’s back steps. She ignored the peculiar feeling that all was not well, but considered that she hadn’t spied in months. Most likely she was out of practice and her nerves more jumpy than normal.
At the landing, she turned to the right. Simple pewter sconces lit her path down the empty hall, past the room where Hawk had died. The faded memory of that cursed night rushed to the forefront of her thoughts, dousing her with guilt.
Dear God, how she hated this place and its painful memories. After tonight, she would never return here. If Josiah needed her, he’d have to make arrangements to meet her somewhere else.
When she arrived at the designated door, she tapped out three soft knocks, the signal she and Josiah had agreed upon long ago.
“Come in,” she heard him call through the door. Slowly, she lifted the latch and pressed open the portal. It was dark in the small room except for the slice of light cutting in from the hall behind her.
“Josiah?”
Her friend sat behind a small square table, his face in shadow. He seemed tense and rigid, when she knew him to be a relaxed sort. “Why are you in the dark? Shall I fetch some candles?”
He hesitated over the simple question. “No...there’s no need. I have some here.”
With the tips of her fingers, Elise shoved the door inward, broadening the scope of light. She winced when she saw her friend’s battered countenance. Purple bruises and fresh cuts covered his face and throat. He looked as though he’d fought a berserk mule and lost. One eye swollen shut, tears sliced paths through the dried blood on his cheeks.
“What happened to you?” she gasped as her concern pulled her deeper into the small room.
A heavy hand grabbed hold of her, yanking her forward. The door slammed, trapping her as the room went black. Arms, thick and hard as mighty oaks, banded about her, crushing the breath from her lungs before she could scream. Panic paralyzed her for a timeless second. Josiah had betrayed her!
Disbelief and terror churned her stomach. What would they do to her? Fear for her unborn child chilled her heart. She tried to scream for help, but a second captor shoved a rag into her mouth and tied the ends behind her head.
A forceful slap burned across her cheek. A pair of fists pummeled her ribs, and knocked the wind out of her. As she gasped for breath, tears of pain pricked her eyes, but she shook her head and squeezed them tight to stem the flow. Whoever these monsters were, they wouldn’t make her weep!
Forcing her brain to function, she kicked her legs in a ferocious attempt to break free. Her heels found her attacker’s shins, his instep, his knees, but the brute might as well have been fashioned from steel.
In the dark, Josiah begged piteously for her forgiveness. “I had to do it, Elise! They threatened to murder Tabby and Moi—”
“Shut up, you mangy dog!” a hoarse voice commanded. A moment later the sound of something heavy met human flesh with a sickening thud. Josiah grunted and fell silent.
White-hot fear seized Elise. She was trapped by an unknown number of adversaries, bagged by enemies violent enough to threaten an innocent woman and child be slain for their purposes.
Her cheeks throbbed where she’d been hit. Her bruised ribs ached. Behind her someone struck flint. A spark of fire glowed to life.
Elise’s gaze flew to the table, where she saw Josiah knocked cold, tied and leaning forward in his chair.
“Give me a lantern,” one of her captors demanded. Glass pinged against metal. The light bloomed. Four simple-hewn chairs and the small table where Josiah slumped made up the furnishings in the otherwise stark room.
The hulk behind her slammed her into a seat. Another man tied her. She kicked at him with all her might. He grunted several times as her feet found their target, but he wouldn’t be stopped until her hands were bound tight behind her back, and each of her legs was lashed to the chair.
Elise straightened her spine as much as the thick hemp rope allowed. She focused on the framed landscape hanging on the far wall, desperate to clear her thoughts, but fear clawed through her brain. What if these ruffians had somehow learned Drake’s true identity and planned to use her as bait to snare him? Just as bad, what if he found her missing and searched for her only to end up hurt or killed? Her imagination tortured her.
Please, dear God, please, she prayed. Whatever Your plans for me, please protect my husband!
A man in a simple white shirt and rough tan breeches placed himself between her and the wall. “Look at me, Fox.”
A river of relief flowed over her. These lunatics wanted her, not Drake. Perhaps he would stay safe.
“Fox? I don’t know—”
The man laid a fisted blow to her jaw. Bright spots of light danced in her vision. He struck her again with the back of his hand. Warm blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.
“When I give you an order, you best do it quick,” her captor growled. “Now, look at me, wench. Don’t you recognize me?”
The man was deranged. Elise would give him no cause to strike her again. Quickly lifting her gaze, her eyes widened in horrified recognition.
“Robin Goss, at your service, ma’am. I’m happy to see you remember me. For certain, I could never forget you, Fox. I have yet to thank you and Mr. Smith properly for my stay at the wharf. Two months is a long time and requires that I show you a great deal of gratitude.”
His fingers threaded painfully into her hair. With a violent yank, he jerked her head back and lowered his face to within an inch of hers. His rotten breath spread across her face and invaded her nose, making her gag in reflex. “If you promise not to scream, I’ll remove the rag.”
Eager to get the putrid cloth out of her mouth, she nodded.
“Once I’m done showing you my thanks,” he said, untying the gag, “I plan to give you to your worst enemy.”
With the rag gone, she dragged fresh air into her lungs. She ran her thickened tongue over her split bottom lip and tasted blood. Her words slurred. “My worst...?”
“Oh, yes. I suppose you can be forgiven in thinking I’m him, but there’s one more. Someone willing to pay fifteen hundred pounds for your sorry hide.”
Something in his words rang in her memory, but her limited powers of concentration gave her no chance to dwell. A pair of men moved from behind her. Brody’s shifting image she recognized. He’d brought her Josiah’s message earlier that day, but she’d never seen the human mountain next to him before.
“Meet my lads.” Goss’s fleshy lips parted in a smirk that revealed his rodent teeth. “But then you’ve met Brody, haven’t you?” He waved his palm in the direction of the mountain. “This here’s Clancy.”
“For—forgive me when I say it’s no pleasure to meet you.”
Goss backhanded her across the face. “I expect better manners from a lady, even if you are nothing but a filthy, traitorous spy.”
Head spinning, ears ringing, Elise could no longer concentrate. She knew his words should mean more to her, but consciousness seemed like a luxury she could barely hold on to. One of her eyes was swollen shut and her vision blurred in the other.
Pain became her one sensation as what seemed like fist after fist rained down in stunning blows. The dim light began to fade. Sound came to her as though from a distance. The netherworld beckoned.
They’re going to kill me for certain.
Her mind fought against the agonized haze overtaking her and savored the vision of Drake for a moment of sweet solace. A sob caught in throat. She couldn’t bear to leave him.
Using the last ounce of her energy, she squirmed in the chair, but escape was futile. Another slap across the face brought a wave of darkness. Believing she’d met her end, she prayed one last time for forgiveness. As she lost consciousness, her heart broke on the thought she would never again see her husband.