“What do you mean she’s not here!” Abigail lifted her cane and struck the floor dangerously close to Owen’s foot. “I was asked to come immediately. Where is she?”
“I don’t know, madam. I am the one that sent for you.”
“You?” Abigail folded her hands over the top of her cane and leaned forward to peer up at the butler through narrowed eyes. “Owen, we are both too old to play these little games.” She lifted her cane and cracked it sharply against the floor. “Explain!”
“Yes, madam. It’s because of the little miss that I summoned you. Mr. Randolph is in New York, and Mrs. Randolph has gone. She left with a…gentleman…that came calling a short while ago. Miss Sarah saw her leave from her window and is now inconsolable. She keeps calling for her mama and crying. Nurse Hammerfield is quite concerned that she will make herself ill, and I thought that perhaps you—”
“Enough!” Abigail glared up at the butler. “You’re blathering. It’s perfectly natural for Sarah to take on a bit under the circumstances. She and Elizabeth have become very close—and you know what the child has been through. It’s not surprising she would be upset to see her mother go away. She’ll be fine when Elizabeth returns and you know it.” Abigail stared at Owen’s carefully held, expressionless butler face and felt a sudden chill of apprehension. “Unless there is something you are not telling me. Who is this gentleman Elizabeth went off with? And when will she return? Why did you really call me?”
Owen met her suspicious gaze for a moment, then looked away. “Because I don’t know what to do, madam. I don’t know what to do about the little miss, or Mr. Randolph. You see…Madam Randolph will not be returning.”
“Nonsense!” Abigail smacked her cane sharply against the floor and glared at Owen. “Of course she will return. Why would you think that? This is her home.” The quick denial sprang from her heart, but even as it burst from her mouth Abigail was aware of a sense of dread spreading through her. She looked down at her hands clasped tightly on top of her cane and sighed. Her fingers were beginning to twist, her skin was thin, dry and blotchy. “I’m old, Owen. I’m much too old for this.”
“Yes, madam.”
The sympathy in his voice put the starch back in her spine. Abigail shoved the loathsome self-pity aside and looked up at the aged butler. He would never make such a statement without good and sufficient reason. Especially after— Oh, dear Heavenly Father! The silent plea rose as Abigail’s heart thumped erratically. Her knees began to wobble. He had to be wrong. He had to. Justin would— Justin would—
Oh, Lord, please. Lord, please! It was all she could think of to pray. Abigail closed her eyes and drew as deep a breath as she could manage before opening them again. Owen was watching her closely. “When will Justin return?” She frowned at his close perusal. Had he guessed? “How much time do we have?”
“A few days, madam. Three, possibly four.”
Abigail sagged with relief. “Good. That’s very good. Old or not, I’ll have this whole…misunderstanding…straightened out by then.” A squeezing pain came in her chest. Abigail closed her eyes and waited. She knew from experience the pain would fade. It was the weakness it left behind that so annoyed her. That, and the inability to breathe properly. Both irritated her. They made it difficult to concentrate. The pain abated and she opened her eyes. Owen was staring at her with concern written all over his face.
“Well?” She snapped the word out and glowered up at him. “Don’t just stand there. If I’m to find Elizabeth I must know what happened. Tell me everything.”
“Yes, madam. But, first…” Abigail stiffened as he moved to take her elbow. “If I might help you to a chair? Perhaps bring you some tea?”
She gave a derisive snort and snatched her elbow from his grasp. “I said I was old, Owen—not infirm. Now, get on with it! You’re wasting valuable time.”
“Yes, madam.” Owen stepped back. “There’s not much I can tell you. Madam Randolph was in the library reading to Miss Sarah, as has become their custom, when a stranger came to the door and asked to see her. When I inquired as to his name, he replied that he wished to surprise Madam and asked that I announce him only as an old friend. I bade him enter and be seated while I went to the library to inquire as to Madam Elizabeth’s wishes in the matter—but I had no opportunity to do so. As I opened the library door the gentleman rushed up from behind, pushed me aside, and burst into the room.”
“My word!” Abigail ignored her shock, and the butler’s obvious outrage over such rudeness and concentrated on the facts. “What happened then?”
“Madam Elizabeth leaped to her feet and cried out—‘Reginald!’”
The blood drained from Abigail’s face. She swayed. Owen hesitated, but an imperious wave of her hand urged him on.
“The rogue bowed then, brazen as you please, and said, ‘So, Elizabeth, it is you.’ He was smiling like a cat that had found a dish of cream.”
Abigail gave him a piercing look. “He said it exactly that way? As if he were uncertain of whom he was calling upon?”
Owen nodded.
“And how did Elizabeth respond?”
“She simply stared at him, looking startled…dazed.”
Abigail pounced on the thread of hope. “So she was not expecting him?”
“No, madam.” Owen’s voice was cautious. “I don’t believe she was.”
Abigail stared at him. Her uneasiness returned—Owen was too astute not to have noticed that for himself. “All right.” She sighed deeply. “Tell me the rest of it. What happened next?”
“Miss Sarah became frightened and began to cry. She called out, ‘Mama!’ and tugged at Madam’s skirt in that way she does when she wants her attention.” The old man cleared his throat and blinked his eyes. “That seemed to bring Madam Randolph to herself and she knelt down to comfort Miss Sarah.” Owen’s voice shook. “That’s when the stranger spoke again. ‘Very touching, Elizabeth,’ he said, ‘I always thought you would make an excellent mother.’”
Abigail sagged.
“Madam Twiggs, please let me—”
“Continue!”
Owen sighed. “There’s not much more to tell. Madam Randolph looked up at the stranger when he spoke and he suggested that it would be good if they were alone to talk. She agreed. She put Sarah in my arms and told me to take her to Nurse Hammerfield. She said she would ring if she needed me.” He paused.
Abigail glared. “And?”
The old butler sighed again. “It was not long until she rang. When I answered her summons she told me to fetch Trudy. That was all, simply—fetch Trudy. She ordered the maid to pack some things for her and bring them to the library. Then, she left.” Owen blinked away the sudden moisture in his eyes. “She walked out the door with the stranger, climbed into a waiting carriage and drove off. She never said a word—not even goodbye. Not to anyone.”
Abigail’s knees gave way. They began to wobble dreadfully. She accepted Owen’s help to the settee at the side of the stairs and sank down heavily onto the blue brocade cushion feeling all the weight of her many years. She was too old. She was simply too old to cope with this. She didn’t want to hear any more—didn’t want to have to think about it. She wanted to go home and have Jeanne put her to bed. She wanted to close her eyes and sleep until the pain of this betrayal went away. Elizabeth. Oh, Elizabeth. What have you done?
Ignoring the leaden weight that settled in her chest, Abigail laid her walking stick on the seat beside her. Rest was out of the question. She would have to talk to the others—to Trudy. Perhaps Elizabeth had left an explanation with her maid. She grabbed firmly on to the thin, tenuous hope and looked up at Owen. “Don’t stand there staring at me!” She snapped the words out. It was expected of her. “Fetch the maid. Fetch Trudy.”
“Yes, madam.”
Abigail leaned back and rested her head against the soft back of the settee as Owen hurried off to do her bidding. For a moment she simply sat there, staring off into space and thinking. What would this do to Justin? He was only now beginning to heal from— Pain ripped through her chest. She gasped and closed her eyes. Oh, Katherine, I don’t know if I have the strength to see him through this one. Forgive me, old friend, if I fail.
Tears squeezed from under Abigail’s closed eyelids and made damp paths down her dry, wrinkled cheeks. She lifted a trembling hand, wiped them away and set her mind against the viselike pain that was stealing her strength. She couldn’t give in to it yet. She had to pray.
“Lord Jesus, I place Justin and Elizabeth in Your hands. Please help them, according to Your will.” She looked toward the ceiling and curved her lips into an angelic smile reminiscent of the ones that had made numerous young men vie for the opportunity to do her bidding. “And I would be ever so grateful if You would give me enough time to see this thing through. Nevertheless, Lord, Thy will be done.” Her strength was gone. Abigail closed her eyes and breathed carefully as the pain lessened.
Caleb lifted his head at the click of the back door latch. He paused momentarily in his task of tying up the package that lay on the counter before him to listen to the soft sounds of movement in his workroom, then frowned and turned again to the task at hand. He knotted the string quickly and competently with his sailor’s expertise and handed the small bundle to the young servant boy that stood waiting.
“Here you are, Jeremiah.” He curved his lips in a smile. “Tell your mistress the candlesticks will be ready in time for her musicale.”
“Yes, sir.” The young boy’s hand shook when he accepted the package. He clutched the bundle tightly to his chest, dipped his head in farewell, and turned to leave. Caleb thumped around the counter. The boy rushed for the door of the shop, yanked it open, leaped down the steps and raced away into the warm evening as if dogs nipped at his heels.
Caleb shook his head. No matter what he did, the town’s youngsters were still frightened by him. He sighed, bid the lady and gentleman strolling past a pleasant good evening, hung the Closed sign in the window and headed for his workroom.
“So, Shinny—” Caleb looked into the dark eyes of the small man that stood in the center of the room waiting for him, and frowned. Only the prospect of a fight made Shinny’s eyes glitter that way. He thumped his way to his workbench and plunked down heavily on his stool. “There’s trouble afoot?”
“Aye.” Shinny almost bounced in his excitement. “For Justin Randolph.”
Caleb jerked his head up. “What kind of trouble? If it is the dock—”
“No.” Shinny shook his dark head. “The whole of Philadelphia’s waterfront knows if they trouble Justin Randolph they deal with you.” His gaze fastened on his old shipmate’s eyes. “Some strange bloke has come to town. He wants Justin Randolph dead.”
“Dead!”
The word echoed off the walls. Shinny nodded. “Aye. Dead.”
Caleb’s face tightened. “You’d best tell me the whole of it.” His tone of voice did not bode well for the stranger.
Shinny grinned and moved closer to his giant friend. “Tommy an’ some of the mates were at Gilly’s a bit ago, when this strange man—one of the gentry—comes in. He walks to a table, tosses down a bag of coins and starts askin’ for someone willin’ to do some mischief for a price. Well, Tommy eyes the weight of the gent’s purse and steps up to the table. ‘I’m your man,’ he says.”
Caleb looked at him sharply.
Shinny’s lips twitched. “So the man looks him up and down and asks him, real polite like, if he has any qualms about killin’ a man.” Shinny guffawed, then quickly sobered at the look in Caleb’s eyes. “Tommy told him, all serious like, that a heavy weight of gold keeps his qualms down. And then the man upends the purse on the table.”
Caleb’s bushy red brows rose. “The whole purse?”
“Aye.” Shinny nodded confirmation. “The whole purse. ‘Is that heavy enough?’ he asks, and Tommy laughs. He grabs up the gold eagles before the stranger can change his mind, and says to him, ‘It’ll do. Does this dead man have a name?’ And the man nods. ‘Justin Randolph’, he says.”
Shinny stared at the fierce light that flamed in Caleb’s eyes. “Of course Tommy come and told me. He was all for stickin’ the man, but I thought you might like that pleasure yourself, so I come to fetch you.” He backed up a few steps to give Caleb room as the giant got to his feet and shoved his crutch under his arm. He stared in admiration at the tight little smile that lifted the corners of Caleb’s mouth as the big man passed him on his way to the back door. He knew that look—knew exactly what his friend was thinking. Caleb owed his life to Justin Randolph.
Shinny furrowed his brow. It had been seven—no, eight years ago that Caleb had been lying unconscious and half-buried by a pile of rigging on one of the Randolph docks when Justin Randolph had stumbled over his protruding foot. Justin had called him out for drunkenness and thrown back the tarp. When he had seen the swollen, discolored stump that was all that remained of the big man’s leg, he had ordered some nearby seamen to lift him into his carriage. He had taken Caleb to his own home, summoned his doctor and demanded that he treat the dying sailor. It had been a long, hard battle, but Caleb had survived. While he was recuperating he had made Justin a scrimshaw of the Barbara. Justin had recognized the seaman’s talent, and when Caleb had fully recovered, he set him up in the small shop.
Shinny shook his head at the wonder of it. Justin Randolph had not only saved Caleb’s life, he had made it one worth living. The big man had been waiting a long time for the opportunity to repay him. There were a lot of seamen waiting to repay a kindness from Justin Randolph. And tonight they would get their chance.
Smiling at what was ahead, Shinny hurried after Caleb who was thumping his way down the steps. He almost felt sorry for the stranger that had tried to buy Justin Randolph’s death. Almost. His gaze fastened gleefully on the face of the huge man walking with grim determination toward Gilly’s waterfront grog shop. This was no artisan, no pleasant shopkeeper. This was Caleb the seaman…the fighter…the captain of the boarding crew. This was the man he would follow anywhere.
Voices inside Gilly’s hushed, heads turned, and eyes gleamed with excited expectancy as Caleb and Shinny entered. News travels fast along the waterfront and those present had heard the story of the threat to Justin Randolph’s life. They knew, also, of Caleb’s devotion to Justin. That Caleb would act was understood—it was the how they were waiting to see. They watched as Caleb moved slowly through the room, each thud of his wooden leg reverberating in the sudden silence.
The men seated at the table in the far corner rose, and, carrying their tankards of ale with them, moved to find places among the other tables. Without protest those already seated crowded together to make room. Everyone knew the corner table was Caleb’s favored place, and no one challenged his right to it. A few foolhardy men, with more courage than sense, had tried over the years to usurp his place. None had. But it was not out of fear that those present yielded place to the giant—fearful, life-threatening circumstances were common occurrences for them. Rather, they yielded out of respect and admiration. Some of them had experienced, and all had heard, of Caleb’s courageous and daring feats at sea. He was a mate that could be counted on when danger reared its familiar head, be it caused by man or nature, and these men did not take that lightly. He had earned his place.
A slight tremor traveled through the floor as Caleb lowered his bulk onto a bench and thrust his crutch into the corner. Shinny slid into place beside him. His dark gaze swept the room.
“He’s not here.”
“Aye. We’ll wait. He’ll come.” The words rumbled out of Caleb with the sound of distant thunder. “Gilly, bring us an ale!” He roared the order—and the room came to life. A heavily muscled man with a wicked gleam in his remaining eye pushed away from a table and crossed the room to him on catlike feet. He dropped onto the bench.
“I have a name. Burton-Smythe.”
Caleb drew his bushy red brows together. “You know him?”
“No.” The gold hoop of an earring gleamed dully with reflected candlelight as the sailor leaned forward. “But I’ve seen him. He has some warehouses on the docks in New York. When I went with Tommy to follow him, the ensign on his carriage jogged my mind. It’s the same as what’s on the warehouse. It’s him all right.” He nodded emphatically. “I seen him clear when he climbed in the carriage.” The seaman got slowly to his feet. “Tommy went on to follow him, and I come back here to wait for you.” His lips split into a nasty grin. “When you go after him, Caleb, I’d admire to go along. I owe Justin Randolph, too.”
Caleb nodded and the seaman walked away, calling for another ale.
“Name mean anything to you, Shinny?” Caleb shifted his bulk to a more comfortable position on the bench.
“Nah.” Shinny shook his head, put his noggin down on the table, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Never heard it afore. I’ll ask ’round though, someone—”
“Here’s Tommy!”
The head of every sailor in Gilly’s raised as one when the voice cried out. Every expectant gaze fastened on the tall, lean seaman that had just entered. A low, excited murmur ran through the crowded tavern—things would begin to happen now. The waiting was over. The crowd of seamen watched eagerly as Tommy made his way to Caleb’s table.
“He’s aboard the Cormorant.”
“The Cormorant!”
“Aye.” Tommy slid onto the bench and motioned for an ale.
Caleb’s brow furrowed into a fierce scowl. “What’s he doin’ aboard the Cormorant?”
“He’s bound for London, and she’s the only one sailin’ with the tide.”
“In a hurry, is he?”
Tommy’s gaze slid to Shinny and he nodded. “Aye.” He looked back at Caleb. “He’s booked passage for two—himself an’ a lady.” He darted his gaze around the room and leaned closer. “He’s got Justin Randolph’s bride with him.”
Shinny’s gaze flew to Caleb’s face. His breath caught with excitement as the big man looked his way. They both knew Justin was out of town. Wordlessly, he handed Caleb his crutch, and rose to follow the giant from the tavern.
As one man the seamen present lifted their mugs, drained their contents, and fell in line. Gilly eyed the rapidly emptying room, finished his own quaff, wiped his mouth on the dirty bar rag, then opened the barricade and hurried after the seamen crowding out the door to form an ever widening wake behind the huge man they all admired. Nobody wanted to miss what was to come.