Chapter Twenty-Two
That evening, on his way back to Teller’s Landing, Gray caught up to Captain McKintrick on Lower Round Road. The man looked far more ungainly astride the mare than he ever did on the deck of his ship, but he was whistling a merry tune.
“Ho there, Captain!” Gray greeted when he turned to see who was coming.
“Why, Mr. Covington,” the man said with his warm brogue. “’Tis good to see you. I take it that I head in the right direction, to reach Tabletop?”
“Indeed,” Gray said, pulling alongside the man. “I’m going there myself. I learned something in town I feel I must discuss with Lady Keturah.”
“Ah, so I see. We’ve re-provisioned and our hold is full. We sail for the Carolinas on the morrow.”
“And so you wish to say farewell to the Banning women?”
“Indeed,” he said, sliding a look Gray’s way that seemed to say, At least to one woman in particular. “I awaited an invitation to come and call, but ach, do ye ken I received naught but silence?” The man seemed a bit miffed, confused.
Gray gave him a rueful smile. “If it helps, they have not reached out to me either. And yet I can tell you that there is a great deal to accomplish, on both plantations. I know the Bannings have had much to negotiate.”
“Aye, well I can imagine. This thing you caught wind of in town—I take it gave you fair alarm.”
“Yes,” Gray said, hesitating. “I figure I may as well offer my counsel, even if she does not wish for me to share it.”
“These women are a rather stubborn sort, are they not, man?”
“Indeed.” Especially Keturah.
“Uncommon in many ways. Quick of wit. Fair of countenance. Ever since they left my ship, I confess I’ve missed their company. And I’m right curious about their plantation. It will do me good to know where she—they,” he hurriedly amended, “have found themselves settled.”
“You mean, Captain, that you would like to envision her new home as you pen letters to Verity,” Gray teased, cocking a brow.
The captain laughed under his breath and shook his head as if in wonderment. “Why is it that the minx now seems to occupy my every free thought? I dinna think when she first crossed my deck that she’d fair cross into my heart by the time our voyage came to an end.”
Gray smiled with him, even as the captain’s words rotated in his mind. He wished he had an answer for him. But was it not the same for him? Day in and day out, he had sought a reason to come and call upon Ket, to share discoveries and trials and solutions. To visit with her to see if she was learning what she must to survive. And now he hungered for a way to help her through this challenge in finding an overseer.
“Ah, there it is,” he said, gesturing to the old stone pillar that marked the front entrance of Tabletop.
Captain McKintrick turned his mare’s nose down the lane and whistled lowly. “Quite a view,” he said. “If I wasn’t one who favored the waves, this would not be a bad second option. Where does your plantation sit?”
“Just to the south,” Gray answered. “My view is nearly as grand, but here, with Saint Christopher and Saba there on the horizon . . . well, ’tis something, isn’t it?”
They rode through the deepening shadows of the trees, past the slave cabins with newly patched roofs and freshly hewn boards. He could sense their eyes—wondering who came to call at this hour—but it wasn’t until they reached the house that he actually saw someone.
Primus came out the door and onto the front porch steps. “Good evening,” he said, wiping his hands on a towel that was slung over his shoulder.
“Good evening, Primus,” Gray said. “Are the Misses Banning and Lady Ket at home this evening?”
“Well, they are and yet they are not. They said they were off for a stroll to the beach and perhaps a swim.”
“A swim, ye say,” Captain McKintrick said, eyes alight with interest.
“Perhaps we ought to wait here for them to return,” Gray said.
But then they heard a shriek in the distance, followed by a fainter scream on the wind. The men shared a quick glance of alarm, then turned their horses down the path that led to the beach, racing downward. In seconds they were on a knoll above a line of coco plum bushes along the sand and pulled up, eyes searching for the women.
Captain McKintrick laughed first. The three women were playing—shrieking and shouting as they dunked and chased and splashed one another. Above them, Brutus took lazy turns in the air as if keeping silent watch. “Saints in heaven,” McKintrick said. “Have you ever seen anything as bonny as that, man? Why, they’re veritable sirens. I have half a mind to join them.”
Gray nodded and grinned. They did look lovely, with their hair slicked back from their faces, bobbing among the waves. He felt a sudden pang in his chest, remembering what it had been like to swim with Keturah at the swimming hole as children, but knowing it was hardly his place—or Captain McKintrick’s—to do so now.
It was Keturah who caught sight of them first, and she stilled and lowered herself to her jawline in the water before whispering something to her sisters. The other two hurriedly faced them.
“Ho, there!” called the captain merrily. “Forgive our intrusion, ladies. We heard your shrieks and hastened here to make sure all was well. I see that it is more than well.”
“Quite!” Keturah called back primly. “Is there something the matter, gentlemen, or is this purely a social visit?”
“Purely social,” said the captain, even as Gray said, “Perhaps both.” They looked at each other and shared a smile tinged with regret.
“We shall await you at the house,” Gray called, taking off his hat and putting it to his chest, then bowing his head. “Come at your leisure, ladies. We do not wish to curtail your fun.”
“We will attend you shortly,” Ket said.
The two reluctantly turned their mounts back up the hill just as Gideon and Primus reached the beach, chests heaving after the run. Clearly, they had been as alarmed as Gray and McKintrick had. “All is well here,” Gray said. “The women are only having a bit of sport. They intend to join us at the house but need a bit of privacy as they dry off and dress.”
“Oh yes,” Primus said, leaning down to put hands on his knees, his back to the sea. “Very good,” he panted. “I’ll return shortly and see that you gentlemen receive refreshments.”
“That will be grand, Primus.”
Slowly the two men took to the path, not rushing their mounts now, aware that the climb was steep for the slaves. It heartened him, however, to see how they had risen to what seemed like their mistresses’ call of distress. Clearly, the men felt some responsibility for the ladies’ care.
They reached the house, dismounted, and Cuffee was there to take their reins. Grace was at the door, eyes wide with alarm.
“All is well,” Gray said to her. “They were merely . . . cavorting.”
“Oh, good. Come in, gentlemen,” she said shyly, “and I shall fetch a pot of tea. Or would you prefer something stronger? A bit of wine perhaps?”
“Tea will do well,” Gray said, even as he saw that Captain McKintrick was considering her “something stronger” offer.
They sat down together on a new settee that had likely come with them on the ship, and each set their hat to the side. McKintrick carried a shallow, elaborately inlaid wooden box, which he placed on the table, but he made no explanation for it.
Looking around, Gray noticed that the small parlor was stuffed. An old harpsichord sat in the corner, but the island’s humidity had done some damage; here and there the wood was cracked and buckling. Most of the furnishings were new, including a tall standing clock, which seemed to fill the room with its steady ticking. Some floorboards had been replaced, the new wood fairly gleaming next to the old burnished planks. And it was clear that the girls had set to stripping wallpaper on one wall. The untouched portion of faded ivy print was bubbling and peeling. He knew that Ket had spent most of her days in town on the hunt for an overseer, so it had to be Verity and Selah’s task in evidence.
“This was once a grand room,” Gray said admiringly.
“With the lasses at work,” the captain said, gesturing to the paper, “’twill soon be set to rights. To my mind ’tis already verra comfortable.”
“Indeed.” Two big windows were open wide, their shutters neatly folded on the sides. It allowed a pleasant breeze to waft in from the ocean. What would Keturah think of his small cottage? Philip and he had concentrated on the fields, on obtaining new slaves, on planting, with little thought to the house other than new straw ticks to welcome their aching bodies home at the end of each day.
But being here, in a home, filled with so many things that were so English, Gray felt another pang of longing. As if he wanted to linger here a long while. But was it the things, or the mistress to whom they belonged?
Grace arrived with a tea tray, and shortly thereafter, so did the women.
“If it isn’t the three wee water sprites,” Captain McKintrick teased, rising beside Gray as they entered, each with their hair neatly combed back, their bodies covered in light, airy gowns he’d never seen before.
“And if it isn’t our would-be guardians,” Verity said with a shy grin, pulling her wet hair over her shoulder and idly beginning to braid it.
“If only I had my chance to beat back some rogue and carry you to safety this evening, Miss Verity,” he said with a slight bow, “well ye’d ken my mettle.”
“And is it not a rogue, Captain,” Keturah intervened, “who would imagine such a thing?”
McKintrick flashed her a wide grin and nodded once in acquiescence. Selah went to the table and began pouring them all tea.
Keturah turned to Gray. “You intimated that something was wrong. Is all well?”
“Please,” he said, gesturing to the window. “Might I have a word?”
She nodded and took her dish of tea from Selah, following him there. “What is it, Gray?”
“Ket, I was in town this evening and I overheard something most distressing.”
“Oh?”
“It sounds as if the planters have conspired against you to keep you from ever hiring an overseer. It is their collective thought that it is in your best interest to force you into a union with an established planter—a man who can aid you in running Tabletop.”
She stilled. “A man who can take over me and mine, you mean.”
He frowned and rubbed the back of his neck. “’Tis not my view, Keturah,” he said with a shake of his head. “But the men here . . . well, they’re a bit of an old guard, I take it. Used to doing things as their fathers and grandfathers and great-grandfathers did before them. The notion of a woman coming in . . . what you’re trying to do, well, Ket, I fear they’re against it.”
She huffed a laugh. “That confirms what I suspected.” She sipped from her cup and looked up at him, lifting one brow. “But pay it no heed, Gray. I already knew of their devious plan. And I found my overseer this day,” she said with a smile, leaning toward him.
“You did? Where? Who?”
“A man from the other side of the island,” she said, turning toward the window. His breath caught at the sight of her profile, rimmed in the golden light of the setting sun. “He has but a tiny bit of a plantation there. But, Gray, he’s doing a fine job with it. You should see his cane! It’s already as high as my shoulders!”
“And he’s agreed to come and work for you?”
“Indeed. He starts on the morrow. So do not worry yourself further, my friend.” She laid a hand on his forearm, and warmth seemed to spread from her hand across his skin. “No matter what the men of this island intended, I have found the solution to my troubles.”
She looked up to him then, golden eyes warm and hopeful.
Gray smiled and sipped his tea, pretending he didn’t mind when her long fingers slipped from his arm, but her words agitated him. Did she not know that this island would likely make them face one trouble after another? Was she truly prepared?
And yet there was something different in her tonight, a peace he hadn’t seen in her for years. Was it merely the fact that she’d finally managed to find an overseer? Or something more? She was more willing to smile, more willing to meet his gaze . . .
“Keturah,” he said, “I do believe this island is doing you some good. You are positively glowing.” The last word left his mouth feeling dry. Had he overstepped?
“Am I?” she asked, lifting a hand to her cheek. “Perhaps.” She leaned forward, studied him a moment, and whispered, “I decided to treat this island as my friend, Gray, rather than my enemy.”
He blinked, a bit swayed at the feel of her breath on his cheek. “Oh?”
“Yes. It finally came to me that no fruitful alliance can form between uneasy partners. One must be open, welcoming, trusting if there is fruit to be born.”
He paused, considering her words. Briefly, he wondered if she truly spoke of more . . . “And before that, you were treating Nevis as your enemy?”
“More as a potential enemy. And I decided that was no way to begin relations.” She sobered and studied him again. “I think I must deal with Mitilda in the same manner. I am . . . I am finding my way with her. It was she who helped me find my overseer, Matthew Rollins.”
“Mitilda,” he said with a nod, remembering the woman in the mango grove and her son and how Ket had treated them. The awkward exchange . . . and the revelation.
“Mitilda,” Ket repeated.
“That is good, Ket,” he said, nodding slowly. “Better for you both, over the course of time, to find your way forward together.”
She gave him a rueful smile and then looked out toward the sea again. “That was my thought exactly.”
Captain McKintrick’s warm laugh brought their heads around. He had been regaling Verity and Selah with a story of a pirate along the Barbary Coast who had nearly slit his throat. Both girls were enthralled.
“That is why I have brought ye ladies this gift,” he said, leaning toward the wooden box. He pulled it into his lap and lifted its lid. “Ye have embarked on a journey that is rife with dangers. And whilst I wish I might remain nearby in order to save you from any trials”—his eyes slid to Verity and then back to the box—“I fear I must be off. I shall return in a matter of months, but I knew I could not leave ye defenseless, not in good conscience.”
Inside the box were six small sharp blades, each set in an ornately carved ivory handle. “These are a set of sgian dubh, carried by Highland warriors.” He looked at all three of them, Verity longest of all. “I pray ye shall be treated with utmost respect. But as my seanahmhair would have said, even the lasses must be ready for battle. I beg you to arm yourselves. Truth be told, nine times out of ten, ye shall not need either knife or man to protect ye. But on that tenth day, would it not be wise to have the knife at the ready? I leave it to ye to ponder, and pray ye shall carry one in either sheath or stocking.”
Verity stared at him, while Keturah found herself startled by his care and concern. It felt . . . genuine to her. Familial in some measure. Helpful rather than possessive.
“Thank you, Captain McKintrick,” Ket said, moving toward him. “That is most thoughtful of you. We shall look forward to the day you return to Charlestown.”
“As shall I,” he said, rising and looking Verity’s way again. “As shall I.”
Gray felt now was the time. He should aid Keturah in separating the captain from Verity. Cecil would wish it as much as Ket. “Yes, well. We bid you ladies good night. Thank you for allowing us to come and call upon you.”
He half expected an eager reply. Something that indicated Ket’s agitation over their interruption of their dip in the sea, their intrusion upon their household, or his meddling in her affairs. Instead, she said softly, “Thank you for coming, Gray. And Captain McKintrick, blessings on your voyage.”
“Captain McKintrick!” said the Scotsman. “So formal, lass. So formal. Might ye not all call me Duncan, since I’ve gone as far as to aid ye in arming yourselves?”
“Thank you for coming, Duncan,” Verity said first, stepping forward. “I, for one, shall look forward to your return.” She lay hold of one of the shining blades and lifted it with a smile.
The captain paused and stared at the girl intently.
Inwardly, Gray groaned. So much for aiding Ket in their separation. Clearly the two were avidly drawn to the other. In fact, since they had left the Restoration, their attraction seemed to have grown tenfold. Was this because of the impending separation?
Captain McKintrick took Verity’s hand and bowed so lowly over it, they might have been in a formal English drawing room. “Miss Verity,” he said, “trust me when I say that my sole goal is to get to the Carolinas, and then back to ye, before winter.”
“Trust me when I say, Captain,” she returned, looking full upon his face, “that I pray the winds are in your favor.”
He grinned so widely that Gray took a steep breath. Why could he not be so audacious with Ket? Press her in similar manner? Why not? he asked himself.
Because she would not welcome it.
She is not ready.
And even if she was, I have not the means to court her.