Sea of Fire Read online

  Christian wasn’t ready to inform Walter how he had followed Elizabeth, and what he had heard at Liffey Supply, though he sensed the man was trustworthy.

  “What you say holds true,” he agreed, wanting to further probe Walter’s reactions. “The silversmiths I recall all sold glassware, pottery, and even medicines for common ailments. Yet, Roderick may have inherited a fortune, so that he doesn’t need to deal in anything except silver.”

  Walter shook his head. “I’m certain Charlotte would have mentioned it to me, as her dowry is moderate, and she was quite embarrassed by it. Mind you, I would wed her if she brought the marriage nary a farthing—so great is my love for her. Anyway, you see, last year, they—I say they, meaning Charlotte’s father, too—as at that time he was still involved in the business. That is how I met Charlotte.” He waved his hand. “But this is beside the point” He took another swallow of cognac and continued. “They lived in a fairly large home and had a decent-sized shop on the outskirts of Dublin. A fire destroyed most of their possessions, including the silverware. For sure, the melted silver was retrieved, but it would have to be refired, purified, and the like before it could be used. All this takes time. They packed up the silver and moved to their present location.”

  “Given what you’ve told me, Roderick’s actions are indeed odd.” Christian leaned forward in his chair.

  From this brief conversation, Christian had learned enough to determine he liked the man and now wanted to know what he really thought of Roderick. More than ever, he believed Roderick and Elizabeth were the key to finding Adam.

  “I’m sure Charlotte appreciates your interest in Roderick’s well-being,” Christian baited Walter.

  Walter set his glass down and rested his hands on his knees. Quietly he spoke, “I have not expressed my concern about Roderick to Charlotte. I do not want to alarm her or have her wonder all sorts of crazy notions. For now, I’ll just be watchful. As long as no harm ever comes to Charlotte or her father, I don’t give a damn what Roderick does.”

  “So you dislike Roderick?” Christian asked.

  “Not at all. I have no feelings one way or the other for the man. Though I’ve known their father for years, I barely know Roderick. Again, my worry is that Charlotte might be hurt.”

  “What about the father? What’s his name?”

  “Denis.”

  “Can you talk to Denis about your suspicions? You are friends.”

  Walter shifted in his chair. He rubbed his forehead and took a deep breath before he replied. “Since the fire, Denis has never been the same man. The catastrophe devastated him. He never got over the shock of it. It’s as if he’s stuck in 1740, when he was a young lad. Charlotte and Roderick sadly admitted him to an asylum.”

  “Sorry,” Christian offered.

  “Me, too,” Walter said. “Denis Godfrey was a good man. It’s better he doesn’t know how Roderick has changed the shop.”

  Christian rose.

  “Are you leaving? “You haven’t finished your drink,” Walter said.

  “Aye. I’ve got some other errands. Here’s my card. Please let me know if you hear any news.”

  Walter stood, and the two shook hands.

  “Thanks for your time,” Christian added and headed towards the valet and his coat.

  “I’ll be here next Friday if you care to join me at the gaming tables for hazard,” Walter called to him. “I warn you. I’m a tough player.”

  Christian turned and smiled at the man, “I’ll be there. I warn you. I soften tough players.”

  Walter laughed and Christian continued on his way. It was time to follow through on his decision to continue to trail Elizabeth Corry. He’d also hire someone to watch Roderick’s activities.

  * * * *

  “The man was here, again,” Hannah said as Elizabeth walked through the front door.

  “What did Mr. Traynor want?” Elizabeth asked, quite pleased with herself, having predicted his arrival.

  “Mr. Traynor?” Hannah’s face showed confusion. “He’s not been here. I’m talking about the Turner man. Ye know. The one who called the morning after the night Mr. Corry failed to return home.”

  “Aye. Turner.” The caller had not been Christian. Elizabeth tried to mask her disappointment, though she was unsure why she should even feel so. He had threatened to go to the authorities. Had he indeed done so?

  “What did Mr. Turner say?”

  “He asked to speak to your da again. I had to tell him he was still too ill for visitors. He said to tell your da he called.” Hannah shook her head. “That man is a mysterious one. He didn’t want to leave any other messages either.”

  “How does he know my father?”

  Hannah shrugged. “I guess I should have asked, but I doubt if he’d have told me.”

  “You did fine, Hannah. We can’t be too careful.” Elizabeth hooked her arm around Hannah’s. “What would you like to do? I’m at your disposal as I promised.”

  “Actually, with me sister ill and bedridden, I’d like to bring her something to cheer her. With yer good taste, I thought you might help me choose a gift.” No sooner said, and Hannah’s mouth turned down into a frown. Her brows puckered. “Would it be wrong to have a little fun? I feel guilty, unable to do naught about yer da.”

  “Of course not,” Elizabeth assured her. “Did you not suggest I get out some to keep my mind occupied?”

  “Aye, that I did, but ...”

  “Nay. I’ll not hear it. Have Alf prepare our carriage, and we’ll leave at once.”

  Hannah did as she suggested. Meanwhile, Elizabeth worriedly paced the floor in the parlor while she waited for her governess. She had to find out if Christian had gone to the authorities. Perhaps she should call on him. Why take any chances? If it came down to it, she’d jeopardize herself if it meant the safety of her father.

  Alf prepared the carriage in no time, and soon, at Hannah’s request, they disembarked from it in front of the Kilkenny Lace and Woollen shop on Gardiner Street not far from the Custom House. Elizabeth tugged her cloak more securely around her against the late afternoon chill and brisk wind. Just that morn it had been spring like. Now, grey clouds threatened to burst, and from the smell in the air, more likely with snow than with rain. God in heaven, would spring never come?

  Hannah was unaffected. She beamed with excitement and anxiously entered the shop, holding the door and waving for Elizabeth to hurry inside.

  Immediately, the two set their sights on the tables of lace scent bags, handkerchiefs, pillow coverings, table runners and the like. An elderly lady approached. “Can I be helping you this fine afternoon?”

  “Not right now. Thank you,” Elizabeth told the woman who smiled and left them to browse.

  “Look at this darling sachet pillow.” Hannah held up a small, three-inch square with a lacy white front and plain back. A flap opened on one end so scented dried flowers could be added and the pillow resealed.

  “It’s a lovely pattern in the lace,” Elizabeth replied and watched Hannah set it down to pick up a lace-trimmed handkerchief that caught her eye. Hannah opened it to full size and waved it in front of Elizabeth to view.

  “It is lovely, too,” Elizabeth said.

  “If I keep rummaging through this table I’ll not know what to purchase.” Hannah talked more to herself than to Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth studied Hannah and wondered if this woman, her mother figure, could afford either of the pieces. Though her father gave Hannah a generous allowance, lace was an expensive commodity. “There are many nice wool items in this store, too. Do you want to see any of them?”

  “Nay. The lace will be special,” Hannah answered, never looking up from her rummaging.

  “Can I help you pay for it?” Elizabeth asked. Their relationship was such that it wouldn’t offend the grey-haired woman.

  This brought Hannah to her full attention. She spun around to face Elizabeth. “I wouldn’t think of it, Bethy.” I have funds from my savings. Mind ye, I wou
ld never purchase such a luxury for meself, but for my sister, aye. ‘Tis why I squirrel away my coins—for occasions just like this. You’re a love to ask, though.” She returned to the lace on the table. “I think I’ll get the handkerchief.”

  “It’s pretty, yet practical. She’ll love it.” Elizabeth inwardly smiled. Hannah would choose whatever suited her. She had wanted Elizabeth to come along for her company, not for her opinion. Dear Hannah. Elizabeth walked over to the woman and hugged her.

  “Now what is this for?” Hannah asked.

  “No reason.”

  “Stop,” Hannah fussed.

  Elizabeth released Hannah, but she could see her governess was pleased with the affection despite her actions.

  While Hannah paid and waited for the handkerchief to be wrapped, Elizabeth stood near the front window and peeked out through the curtains. Large flakes of snow swirled through the air, but had not yet stuck to the ground. Alf patiently sat atop the carriage. Where was her mind? She should have suggested he wait in the coffee house across the street. She glanced at that structure to see the doors burst open. A burly constable hauled a poorly clothed young lad by the collar of his coat out the door.

  She guessed the youth to be around ten years old. Whatever could he have done to be treated so gruffly? She hurried outdoors in time to hear one man, apparently the proprietor, say, “Put the rascal in gaol, then. Let his ma and da see that they can’t be havin’ a lad do their thievin’ for them.”

  “I tell ye,” the boy cried out, “Me ma and da are innocent. The coin was passed to them. I swear.”

  “Shut yer yapper! That’s what all ye ragamuffin troublemakers say.” The constable proceeded to hustle the lad down the street.

  God in heaven. Elizabeth’s heart stopped. What if the lad was innocent? “Constable,” she called to the man. She lifted her skirts to run and catch up with him. “Constable, the lad may be speaking the truth.”

  “Nay. He’s a little gutter skunk. A liar, that he is.”

  “How do you know?”

  The constable stopped. He wrapped his beefy arm around the neck of the lad to hold him fast. With his free hand, he reached inside his pocket and dug deep until he found what he wanted and displayed it to Elizabeth. “This is why I know.”

  “May I?” Elizabeth asked and reached for the coin.

  “Aye.”

  Elizabeth needed but to glimpse the piece and she, too, knew the coin was bad. The word shilling was spelled incorrectly. Most poor people were uneducated and such an error hardly would have been noticed. All were able to recognize the different denominations, though they couldn’t actually read what the coins had stamped on them. Still, the error could have been missed by the average citizen on most occasions. Apparently, this proprietor was one exception.

  She handed the evidence back to the constable. “What will happen to the child?”

  “He’ll hang ‘til he’s blue in the face and his tongue swells from his mouth to a deep shade of purple.”

  “You aren’t serious?” Elizabeth couldn’t believe a mere child would be hanged.

  “Can’t say.”

  “I ain’t afraid. Ye can’t scare me.” The lad kicked the constable in the shin and received a hardy twist of his ear.

  “I’ve got to go,” the constable said and turned to do so.

  To Elizabeth, the lad gave a brave performance and a performance was all it was. He seemed frightened, and so was she. Her heart pounded. If she were discovered, a hangman’s noose could be easily slipped around her neck, too. She started to shake.

  “There ye are, Bethy,” Hannah said. I wondered why ye weren’t inside the carriage. Look at ye. Ye’ve been outdoors so long the snow has collected all over yer cloak, and now ye’re shivering. And yer hands ... child, where is yer muff?” Hannah grabbed Elizabeth by the arm and encouraged her to move along. “I saw ye talking to the constable. Was the lad begging?”

  “If only it were that simple.”

  “Now what is that supposed to be meaning?”

  “He was arrested for passing a counterfeit coin,” Elizabeth said.

  “And so should everyone be who breaks the law. The lad needs a good paddling, he does.”

  If only you knew, Elizabeth thought.

  Chapter Eight

  Christian lay on his side in his bed, staring at a picture of the pristine tropical shores of Spanish-controlled Florida. The painting depicted the landscape perfectly—sandy mounds, palmettos and blue-green waters foaming into a snowy white beach.

  It was imperative he be on board his next ship scheduled for departure for that land by mid-April. The business proposition had practically fallen into his lap. He had merely to show up, shake hands, and load his ship with precious cargo. Would he find his brother in time? Worse yet, could he put off his mother for much longer? She threatened to come to Dublin herself and get the authorities involved, if she didn’t soon learn of Adam’s whereabouts. What was he to do? There was but one week left in March.

  Two weeks had passed. Neither of the men he had hired to keep tabs on Elizabeth and Roderick had reported anything unusual apart from what Christian already knew. Elizabeth, for the most part, was herself by day and disguised as a friar by night. Roderick had made several trips to the ship Aurora, the same ship Elizabeth had visited, but never with her. Aside from visiting the ship, Roderick had spent most of the two weeks at home or in his silversmith shop.

  The most significant event or bit of excitement happened on the Friday evening when Christian had met Walter Bloomfield at Bailey’s Club. His hired man had tailed Elizabeth to the bay. The same time that evening, a group of seamen had gathered on the wharf, trying to control the hysterics of a fellow crewman. The crewman insisted there had been a red glow on the water in the distance that lasted about ten minutes before it disappeared. The crazed man was certain it was an omen. The man repeated over and over he didn’t want to die—until he collapsed, and his friends took him away.

  Christian’s hired man had told him from that time forward he could no longer follow Elizabeth if she ventured near the water. He didn’t want to take any chances he might see the red glow. He convinced the man to stay on long enough until he found a replacement. He didn’t insist he travel near the water, but managed to secure another fellow the very next day.

  Within that first week, Elizabeth had called at his town house. Fortunately, his manservant had returned to briefly see if he was needed. On Christian’s orders, he advised Elizabeth that Mr. Traynor was not expected for hours. After that, his manservant left to enjoy more time off. As for Elizabeth, she had made no further attempt to see him. No doubt, she assumed he wouldn’t hand her over to the authorities. Still, she couldn’t have been certain what he had planned. He grinned. That would have worried her and probably still did. Small consolation, considering she haunted him with images of her sparkling blue eyes and auburn hair, his mouth on hers, and his hips pressed against hers.

  Damn the woman! Contrary to his body having other ideas, he cared little for her. Not to mention her scruples, especially having learned her latest trade as forger. He laughed out loud. How ironic it was, with her father a magistrate, but this was beside the point. How could she be betrothed to Adam one day, and administer the tastiest kiss to him the next?

  He rolled to his back. How Adam fit into all of this, he still didn’t know.

  Next instant, he heard an impatient knock on his door. Hastily, he donned his breeches and shirt, which he had tossed to the floor the night before, and raced to answer the caller.

  He opened the door.

  “Here.” A courier shoved a missive at him. “Are ye deaf? I was told not to leave ‘til you get this. Ye may as well have this too.” He handed Christian another missive. “The bloke who delivered it didn’t want to wait.”

  Before Christian could respond, the courier left. He closed the door.

  One missive was from Walter Bloomfield. The other was from Mary Margaret. He read the second and tos
sed the message aside. He scolded himself for not having contacted her since she left in a huff over the friar in his bedchamber business. The problem was—he didn’t want to see her. He couldn’t explain anything, and she’d nag at him to do so. Nay, it was better to leave it be. If she found another lover, then so be it. If she called again, he’d decide at the time what to do. He opened Walter’s missive and read:

  Traynor,

  I desperately need your assistance. I truly hate to take advantage of our most recent friendship, and I know this is short notice, but would you join us for an evening at the William Street Exhibition Hall? I wouldn’t intrude upon you, but I promised Charlotte I’d have a companion for her friend Elizabeth. The gent I asked took ill this morn. I have tried everyone and exhausted all my resources. I can think of no one else who might be available. I understand if you beg off; however, I would be in your debt if you do me this favor. I realize this may present an awkward situation for you and Elizabeth with Adam’s disappearance and you his brother. Charlotte need not know you’re Adam’s brother, and I’m certain Elizabeth would not cause a scene for Charlotte’s sake. I’ll explain to Elizabeth. I doubt she will protest too much. She knows how determined Charlotte can be.

  Please send word by courier only if you are unable to attend. Otherwise, be at Charlotte’s at half past eight. Her address is enclosed.

  Yours, Bloomfield

  He paced the entryway floor in excitement. It took all of a fleeting thought for him to decide whether or not to attend. He had planned to confront Elizabeth when he learned more, but this was an opportunity he couldn’t miss. He tossed the missive on the entryway table and headed for the library.

  He’d join Walter for the music and be a most attentive companion. When he got Sister Friar alone ... he’d accelerate those attentions until she decided to be truthful with him. Aye, and she wasn’t so adverse to them. She might not care for him, but his kisses seemed to be another matter.

  Suddenly, he was excited about the upcoming evening. If the truth were known, not since Adam’s disappearance had he looked forward to anything. He reasoned that his anticipation was due to the fact he’d have answers soon, as well as the upper hand over Elizabeth. His spirits rose. He laughed out loud. Miss Elizabeth Corry would certainly be surprised. The expression on her face alone would be worth the evening.