The Pirate's Daughter. Helen Dickson
‘What you lack in wealth, my dear,’ he said, leaning over and patting her hand affectionately, ‘you more than make up for in other ways. You do have other attributes to your credit—apart from the obvious, of course,’ he said, smiling, referring to her beauty.
‘My dear cousin is quite unlike any woman you are ever likely to meet, Captain Marston,’ John continued unabashed, ‘whose whims and fancies must be humoured at all costs. I tell you, all her life she has thwarted my every wish with her stubborn ways—which always bordered upon disobedience and disrespect for my authority—but without exceeding it, I must point out.’ His words did not serve as a rebuke and he finished on a softer note with a little twinkle dancing is his eyes, for he was exceedingly fond of his pretty young cousin.
His host’s fondness for Cassandra was plain to Stuart, and he found himself wondering if what he felt for her was something other than cousinly affection—and if the attraction was mutual. Experiencing a sharp twinge of jealousy that this might be so both surprised and annoyed him.
Glancing towards Captain Marston’s sober countenance, Cassandra detected a hard gleam in his coal-black eyes. ‘I beg you to take no notice of John, Captain Marston. He speaks in jest—and I think has drunk a little too much wine. I do not believe we should be discussing this subject in front of our guest, John. I would not wish to cause him any embarrassment.’
Seated across from Cassandra, Stuart lounged back in his chair, his arm stretched across the back, his hand idly turning the silver wine goblet in his fingers. His expression was thoughtful as he listened with interest to their light-hearted banter. When Cassandra laughed her face lit up and her eyes were like two sparkling sapphires, and her rosy lips stretched over her small white teeth. He was enchanted, and he wondered if she had any idea how beautiful she was. He smiled, a slight, crooked smile.
‘I assure you that I am not in the least embarrassed—and I would like to know more about the young lady he speaks of.’ Her eyes regarded him calmly and steadily. She had such beautiful eyes, he thought as she gave him a mocking smile.
‘And what exactly would you like to know about me, Captain Marston?’
‘Something of a more personal nature, I think,’ John commented, laughing jovially. ‘You see, Captain Marston, Cassandra was considered to be an extremely difficult child by my mother before she died, and later I came to share that opinion—and most sympathised with me as an unfortunate man who had taken over the guardianship of a rebellious, unbiddable girl of an unpredictable disposition—’
‘Nevertheless, I do have some things in my favour,’ Cassandra interrupted crossly, irritated by what she considered to be a harsh and unfair analysis of her character. ‘I am reasonably well read and well educated, and, contrary to John’s opinion that I lack social graces, my manners are perfectly acceptable to society. Come, admit it, John?’
John chuckled. ‘Aye,’ he conceded, ‘I’d say your account is entirely accurate.’ Leaning back in his chair, he stretched his legs out in front of him, replete and satisfied after his meal. ‘So, Captain Marston, your ship is loaded and ready to leave with the convoy.’
Cassandra already knew Captain Marston would have to leave Barbados soon, but nevertheless she was unprepared for the sharp stab of disappointment that pierced her heart. The pleasure of the evening withered. ‘How long will it be before the convoy sails?’
‘Very soon—days—no longer than two weeks at the most,’ Stuart replied, having noticed her dismayed reaction and feeling well pleased by it. ‘We await Captain Tillotson’s and several other vessels’ arrival from Antigua, and then we sail for England.’
Trying to overcome the awful feeling of regret because he was to leave before they’d had the chance to become better acquainted, Cassandra smiled softly. ‘And what exciting and exotic cargo will you be taking back with you to England?’
‘Nothing as exotic as what you might have in mind—just the principle articles of trade such as cotton and sugar and other commodities. Things which are always in great demand by the British market.’
‘There is little wonder the pirates lay in wait to intercept the ships in order to steal their cargoes.’
‘Regrettably that is true. It is a fact that piracy takes place on a massive scale—which is why mercantile ships have become warlike and the reason why they almost always sail in convoy.’
‘And how long will it be before you return to the West Indies, Captain Marston?’
‘This is to be my final voyage. My seafaring days are at an end.’
His reply surprised Cassandra. ‘Oh! Why is that?’
‘I have duties in England that dictate I spend more time at my home in Kent. Because my time has been taken up with the sea for many years, I’m afraid my estate has fallen into a sorry state and is in dire need of attention.’
‘Forgive me if I seem surprised, Captain—it is just that you give me the impression of being a sailor born and bred. Having spent a number of years on board your ship, I suspect you will find it difficult to retire from it.’
Stuart cocked an eyebrow, assessing her. ‘I admit it will not be easy.’
‘Do you not employ a bailiff—or have brothers who can take care of your estate back in England?’
Stuart stiffened. ‘I have a bailiff—but no brothers,’ he replied, his voice sounding strained and his expression becoming closed suddenly, as if she had intruded on to something private. ‘There is only my mother, and she prefers to spend most of her time in London.’
‘I see.’ Cassandra was curious as to what it could be that had brought about this apparent change in him, but she let it rest, not wishing to pry further. ‘And what will you do with your ship? Will you sell it?’
‘The Company is to buy the Sea Hawk. But what of you, Mistress Everson?’ Stuart leaned back in his chair, regarding her with a frown, tactfully directing the conversation away from himself before she felt inclined to ask questions about his family that he preferred not to discuss with anyone. ‘Your cousin tells me you are to leave Barbados, also.’
Cassandra glanced sharply across the table at John, the meaning behind the remark Captain Marston had made earlier becoming clear. ‘He did?’
‘Yes,’ John said quickly, looking flustered all of a sudden, wishing he’d taken the time to tell Cassandra of his intention before Captain Marston’s arrival. ‘I’ve asked Captain Marston if he will be so kind as to accommodate you and Rosa on board his ship for the journey back to England.’
‘You have?’ she gasped, her startled gaze flying from her cousin to Captain Marston, who was calmly watching her reaction to this with an infuriating wicked gleam dancing in his black eyes.
‘Yes. I told you when you arrived that you cannot possibly remain here indefinitely. I would prefer it if you were back at home with Meredith, which is where you belong.’
‘I see,’ Cassandra said stiffly, looking directly at Captain Marston. ‘I trust you have room to accommodate me and my companion?’
‘Yes. Ample. I shall be delighted to have you on board.’ The haste with which Sir John was sending Cassandra back to England was beginning to cast doubt on Stuart’s suspicion that his feelings for his cousin were anything other than that. He smiled inwardly, beginning to feel easier.
‘Thank you. Then it would seem there is little more to be said.’ Cassandra looked away from the dark gaze that was studying her intently, and she had to admit that if she had to return to England then she could think of no other ship she would rather sail on than his.
The conversation was interrupted when Elmina entered to speak to John. Cassandra chose that moment to excuse herself, moving out on to the verandah and welcoming the cool night air after the heat of the room. Oil lamps hanging from a low beam against a curtain of scarlet blossom gave off a flickering light, which drew dancing moths, mesmerised