The Raider Page 3

  “Jessica, I don’t think you’re being fair. What in the world did Alex do to you that’s made you dislike him so much? And you can’t count the schoolboy pranks he pulled. If they counted, Nathaniel would have been hanged four years ago.”

  “It’s his attitude. He always thought he was so much better than anyone else. His brothers and father would work with everyone else, but Alexander thought of himself as too good. His family was the richest one in town, but he was the only one who was aware of it.”

  “Are you talking about the charity? The time you threw the lobsters he’d brought us in his face? I never understood that since the whole town was always giving us things.”

  “Well, they don’t now!” Jessica spat in anger. “Yes, I mean the charity, living from hand to mouth every day, never having anything, always wanting. And Pa coming home every nine months, just in time to get Mother—” She paused to calm down. “Alexander was the worst. The way he smirked every time he brought a bag of cornmeal. The superior way he looked at all of us each time he saw us. He used to wipe his breeches every time a Taggert baby got near him.”

  Eleanor smiled. “Jess, it was necessary to wipe your breeches—or your skirt or your hair—every time a Taggert baby got near you. I don’t think you’re being fair. Alexander was no better or worse than the other men in his family. It’s just that you two are only two years apart in age and therefore you felt more kinship with him.”

  “I’d rather be kin to a shark than to him.”

  Eleanor rolled her eyes. “He did help Patrick get the post as cabin boy on the Fair Maiden.”

  “He would have done anything to get rid of one more Taggert. Are you ready to go?”

  “I have been for some time. I’ll make a deal with you. If Alexander turns out to be the pompous spendthrift you seem to think he is, I’ll bake you three apple pies next week.”

  “I’ll win this without trying. With his arrogance, he’ll probably be expecting us to kiss his hand. I hear he was in Italy. Probably met the Pope and learned some things from him. Think he’ll wear scented lace underwear?”

  Eleanor ignored her sister. “If I win, you have to wear a dress all week and be nice to Mr. Clymer.”

  “That old fish-breath? Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. I’m going to win. This town’s going to see that, when Alexander is alone and not surrounded by his brothers and father, he’s a lazy, vain, condescending, pompous—” She stopped because Eleanor was pushing her out the door.

  “And, Nathaniel, if you don’t watch after those kids, you’ll hear from me,” Eleanor called over her shoulder.

  By the time they got to the dock, Eleanor was having to drag Jessica. Jess kept enumerating all the things that needed doing: the fishing nets that needed repairing, the sails that had to be mended.

  “Well, Jessica,” said Abigail Wentworth as the Taggert sisters stepped onto the dock, “I see that you couldn’t wait to see Alexander again.”

  Jessica was torn between wanting to smack the woman and turning to leave the dock. Abigail was the second prettiest girl in town, and she hated being second to Jessica’s first. Therefore, she loved to remind Jessica that she was a ripe and ready sixteen while Jess was drying on the vine at the grand old age of twenty-two.

  Jessica gave Abby her sweetest smile and prepared to tell her what she thought of her when Eleanor grabbed her arm and pulled her away.

  “I don’t want you two to get into a fight today. I want this to be a good day for the Montgomerys without Sayer having to get you out of the stocks. Good morning, Mistress Goody,” she said sweetly. “There it is, that’s the ship Alex is on.”

  Jessica’s jaw dropped at the sight of the ship. “But that beam is too narrow. I’m sure that’s against statutes. Has Pitman seen that yet? He’ll probably confiscate the ship and then where will your precious Alexander be?”

  “He’s not mine. If he were anybody’s, Abigail wouldn’t be here waiting for him.”

  “How true,” Jess sighed. “Wouldn’t she just love to get her hands on the Montgomerys’ eight thousand feet of dock space? What are those people looking at?”

  Eleanor turned to see a group of townspeople standing stock still and gaping. The crowd began to part, their mouths open, but no sound came forth.

  As Jessica and Eleanor waited, a man came toward them. He was wearing a jacket of canary yellow, with a wide border of embroidered flowers and leaves about the edge and hem. The jacket covered an enormous belly, and sunlight flashed off the many colors of the silk embroidery. The breeches covering his fat legs were emerald green, and he wore a full wig that hung down in curls past his shoulders. He walked across the dock, stumbling now and then from what was obviously too much drink.

  The townspeople seemed to think he was another official from England, but Jessica recognized him right away. No amount of weight or wig could completely cover that imperious Montgomery expression. In spite of his extra hundred pounds, she could still see those cheekbones that Alexander had inherited from his grandfather.

  Jessica walked forward, swishing her skirts and letting everyone see her. She’d always known that Alexander Montgomery was rotten to the core and here was proof. The minute he was out from under his father’s rule, this is what happened to him.

  “Good morning, Alexander,” she said loudly and with laughter in her voice. “Welcome home. You haven’t changed a bit.”

  He stood there and looked at her, blinking uncomprehendingly. His eyes were red from drink, and once he swayed so badly that a dark, burly man had to catch him.

  Jessica stepped back, looked Alex up and down, then put her hands on her hips and started to laugh. Moments later the townspeople began to join her.

  They couldn’t stop even when Marianna Montgomery came running onto the dock. She halted when she saw Alex.

  “Hello, Mary, my sweet,” Alex said with an off-center smile and again the man in the dirty shirt had to steady him.

  The crowd stopped laughing while Marianna looked at her brother in disbelief.

  As Alex kept smiling, Marianna’s mouth kept falling farther open. At last, she put her apron over her face and began crying. She ran from the docks, her heels showing beneath her skirts, her sobs carrying on the wind.

  That sobered the crowd. They gave Alex and his peacock coat a few contemptuous looks and began to go back to their work. The wind echoed with the words “Poor Sayer” and “But his brothers are such men!”

  Within a few minutes, there were only four of them on the dock: Jessica, enjoying it all enormously because she’d always told everyone that Alex was no good, a frowning Eleanor, a bewildered Alexander, and the big man in a dirty shirt.

  Jessica just stood there with a triumphant grin on her face while Alex’s eyes began to clear and he turned to look at her. “This is all your fault,” Alex whispered.

  Jess’s smile grew broader. “Oh, no, Alexander, this is your fault for at last showing your true self. You had them all fooled for years, but not me. You must tell me who your tailor is.” She turned to her sister. “Wouldn’t you love to have a petticoat that color?”

  Eleanor squinted her eyes at her younger sister. “You’ve said enough, Jessica.”

  Jess widened her eyes innocently. “I have no idea what you mean. I was merely admiring his clothing—and his wig. No one in Warbrooke has worn a wig for years.” She smiled her sweetest smile at Alexander. “But here I am keeping you and you must be hungry.” She looked pointedly at his enormous belly. “Something like that must take constant work.”

  Alexander made a lunge for her throat, but Nick caught him.

  “My goodness,” Jessica mocked. “The piglet has claws.”

  “I’ll get you for this, Jessica Taggert,” Alexander said beneath his breath.

  “With what? Cream cakes?”

  Eleanor stepped in before Alex could say another word. “All right, Alexander, let’s get you home. You there,” she said to Nicholas, “get his baggage and bring it. You can take care of your
master in his home. And you, Jessica, we need something to eat for dinner. Go fetch it.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jess said. “I’m just grateful I’m not part of the Montgomery family. I can feed half a dozen kids, but that…” She looked at Alex’s big belly.

  “Go!” Eleanor ordered and Jessica left the dock, whistling happily and talking about the pies Eleanor owed her. Eleanor took Alex’s arm, not saying a word about the fact that he was obviously too drunk to walk by himself. The man she thought was Alex’s servant stayed behind on the dock.

  “What’s his name?” Eleanor asked Alex.

  “Nicholas,” Alex said through clenched teeth, his anger making his face red and his eyes black.

  Eleanor stopped, still holding Alex’s arm. “Nicholas, you are to do what I say. Get your master’s belongings and come with me. And I mean for you to do it now.”

  Nick stood where he was for a moment, then gave Eleanor a lusty look up and down. He smiled just slightly and turned away to get the small bag of clothing that he’d borrowed from his cousin for Alex’s use. “Yes ma’am,” he said softly when he joined them, and walked behind them, watching the sway of Eleanor’s skirts.

  * * *

  “Two hundred and fifty pounds if he’s an ounce,” Jessica was laughing. She was sitting at one end of the Taggert table, Eleanor at the other end. In between were seven Taggert children in assorted sizes and ages and varying degrees of dirt. Each person had a wooden bowl full of steaming fish chowder and a wooden spoon. They were precious utensils and treated with the courtesy of fine silver. The stew was quite plain, with no seasoning to speak of, nothing but fish cooked for a long time in water. The few vegetables from last summer had been eaten and the new garden had not borne fruit yet.

  “What did Sayer say?” Jessica asked, still laughing into her stew.

  Eleanor gave her sister a glare. She had worked at the Montgomery house for four years now, and after Alex’s mother had died two years ago, she’d taken over as housekeeper. Marianna, the oldest of the Montgomery children, a spinster who either because of her size or her domineering manner had never had a husband, had been given the responsibility of taking care of her invalid father and the big, rambling house. But when the new customs officer, John Pitman, had arrived and begun to pursue her, Marianna had forgotten about everything else. Of course half the town had tried to explain to her that the Englishman wanted her father’s wealth, but Marianna had arrogantly refused to listen to them. It didn’t take Marianna two weeks after the wedding to realize the people were right and now she carried the burden of knowledge that she was responsible for many of Warbrooke’s problems. She turned over her household duties to Eleanor and now spent most of her time in her room completing one piece of embroidery after another. If she could not cure the disease she had caused, she planned to disassociate herself from it.

  “I don’t think we should discuss this now.” Eleanor gave a meaningful look to the children who were studiously looking into their bowls of stew, but were truthfully listening so intently that their ears were beginning to wiggle.

  “Mr. Montgomery said that Mrs. Montgomery had always spoiled her youngest son and that he’d warned her that something like this would happen,” Nathaniel said. “I guess he meant Mr. Alex’s clothes and how fat he is. Miss Marianna cried a lot. Eleanor, who is that man Nicholas?”

  Eleanor glared at the young Taggert. “Nathaniel, how many times have I told you not to eavesdrop? And you were supposed to be taking care of Sally.”

  “I went, too,” Sally said. “We hid in the—”

  Nathaniel put his hand over his little sister’s mouth. “I was taking care of her, but I did want to know. Who is the man Nicholas?”

  “He’s Alex’s bondsman, I assume,” Eleanor said, “and don’t you try to change the subject. I’ve told you a hundred times—”

  “Isn’t there an apple pie around here somewhere?” Jessica asked. “I’ve heard all I can bear about Alexander Montgomery. He’s a fat old whale that’s been beached and he’s at last showing his true colors. Nate, tomorrow I want you to take a bag down into the cove and gather lobsters.”

  “Not again,” he groaned.

  “And you, Henry,” she said to the twelve-year-old, “go see if the blackberries are out yet, and you’ll have to take Sam with you. Philip and Israel, you’ll have to go with me tomorrow while I make a lumber run down the coast.”

  “Lumber?” Eleanor said. “Do you think you should? The Mary Catherine can’t handle that much weight.”

  Jessica stiffened her back as she always did when someone said something about her boat. It wasn’t much and maybe it was true what Jahleel Simpson had said, “The Mary Catherine can float but she sure don’t like to,” but it was her boat, the only thing her father had given her except brothers and sisters to take care of and she was proud of it. “We can sail it and, besides, we need the money. Someone has to pay for these apples.”

  Eleanor looked down at her bowl that now contained a slice of apple pie. Sometimes she “borrowed” food from Sayer Montgomery’s kitchen. Not often and not very much and she always paid it back, but she felt terrible about it just the same. If Sayer or Marianna had thought of it, she was sure that they would have told her to take what leftovers she needed, but Sayer was too busy feeling sorry for himself and Marianna was too busy crying that she’d brought all the evils of the world onto the town’s shoulders when she’d married the customs officer to think of anyone else.

  Two-year-old Samuel decided to wrap his sticky spoon in his sister Molly’s hair and pull. That stopped all adult conversation.

  * * *

  Alexander woke the next morning with a pain in his jaw from having ground his teeth all night. Even asleep he felt his anger. Standing there on the dock yesterday, worried about whether his shoulder would start bleeding again, looking out across the people and seeing the English soldiers on their lathered horses—soldiers who were obviously looking for someone—and then having to see that brat Jessica Taggert laughing at him was almost more than he could bear. How easily the townspeople had believed him to be the coward Jessica said he was. How quickly they forgot what he’d been.

  He’d gone to his father’s house and already word of him had spread. Marianna had her head on her father’s bed and was crying noisily. Sayer merely looked at his son and waved his arm to dismiss Alexander, as if the sight of his youngest child disgusted him too much to speak.

  Alexander was too weak from the loss of blood, too angry about what had happened on the dock to attempt to defend himself. He followed Nicholas out of the room and went to his own where he fell onto the bed.

  Even the sight of Nicholas Ivanovitch, Grand Duke of Russia, carrying in his luggage didn’t cheer him. He drifted into a half sleep in which he dreamed of strangling Jessica Taggert. But then part of the dream had him making mad love to her. When had she grown so damned pretty? The horror of being taunted by a beautiful woman gave him very little peace.

  Now, his head hurting, his shoulder throbbing, he lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. Part of his brain, the tiny part that wasn’t absolutely furious, was beginning to function. Maybe the fact that they all believed his disguise was to his advantage. He’d seen what was going on in New Sussex, the way the English soldiers ruled the town. He’d heard of the atrocities committed against the Americans as they were treated like bad children. He’d even seen the prices for goods that in England sold for half as much—yet they were goods shipped on American ships.

  Perhaps some of that was going on in Warbrooke.

  On first wakening, he’d wanted to call Marianna and show her his wound and tell her about his being the Raider. He knew his sister would help him while he recovered, would protect him from the wrath of the English. And how he’d like to see her face when she saw that he wasn’t the fat drunkard she thought him to be! But now he realized that he’d be putting her life in danger.

  He turned when a sleepy-eyed Nick came into the room and sat down he
avily in a chair. “That woman got me up before daylight and had me cutting wood,” he said morosely and with some wonder in his voice. “It was due only to my keen observation of my own workers that I had any idea of what to do. That woman is not very tolerant of even the slightest hesitation, though.”

  “Jessica?” Alexander questioned, his voice little more than a sneer. Just the thought of that woman made his hands ache to put them around her pretty white throat.

  “The other one. Eleanor.” Nick hung his head in his hands.

  Alex had seen examples of Nick’s moods before and he knew that the best thing was to not allow him to continue feeling sorry for himself. He managed to sit up in bed, the sheet falling away from his strong broad shoulders, exposing the bandage.

  “I don’t think I should let anyone know that I’m not as I appear,” Alex began. “I think I’ll remain in my peacock clothes until my shoulder has healed and until the interest in the Raider has died down. Could you spare me a servant? Someone discreet who isn’t afraid of a little danger?”

  Nick’s head came up sharply. “All my men are Russians and no Russian is afraid of anything. Are you planning to be the Raider again?”

  “Possibly.” The only thought he had in his head right now was of paying Jessica back for laughing at him. He had a vision of being dressed in black and climbing in her bedroom window and tying her lovely white hands to the bedposts and…

  “Are you listening to me?” Nick demanded. “Never have I found a more insolent people than you Americans. I should sail for my homeland now, before I meet another one of you. But this Raider appeals to me. I will send my ship south to fetch more of my cousin’s clothing and a new wig.”

  “And leave me one of those servants you abuse, I hope.”

  “No,” Nick said thoughtfully. “This game amuses me. I will stay here and continue to pose as your bondsman. I will keep the secret of what you are.” His eyes narrowed. “And I will make this Eleanor Taggert sorry she said such things about me as she did this morning.”