Pride warms his voice as he continues, “She admitted that she had helped and berated her uncle for his misdeeds. She wanted to be brave. She wanted to do right. But she still does not understand what her uncle is capable of, and now I fear she will find out. She did not realize she was his captive. Such a thought would not cross her mind. To her, it was no more serious than her uncle demanding to know who left the barn door open.”
“And it was not like that at all,” I say.
“No. Worse, thinking her uncle still a man of some honor, she swore she would do what she could to help the people of the bay and aid Nicolas in his cause, even if that meant standing against her own uncle. She swore that she would inform her father, and he would help her cause.”
“What did Lord Norrington do?” I ask carefully.
“Took her away. He’s holding her captive in the last place young Dr. Dupuis would ever look for her.”
“Where?”
“On theTemerity.”
30
First, I tell Nicolas that Emily has been taken captive, and that is enough to get us moving quickly out of the house as I relate the rest of the story. TheTemerityis wrecked on the far side of Whitby—nearly a ten-mile distance. Can we walk that? Of course. But not as quickly as poor Lord Thomas wants us there.
We cannot risk the time or the exposure of finding a driver in High Thornesbury, the town at the foot of the hill. The only solution is one we both hate. We need to steal a horse from Lord Thorne’s stable. I would be much more comfortable with that if it were the eighteenth-century Lord Thorne. It is not, and we can hardly bring one of his horses through. No, we must steal from his grandfather, and while Lord Thomas assures us it is only borrowing, it feels like theft.
As this is Lord Thorne’s country estate, there are only a few horses in residence. We tell ourselves these are not his favorites—he wouldn’t leave a favorite to be tended by the hired help. No, these are working horses, and so we can only make a vow to return the gelding we borrow and, if we cannot return it, repay its worth, however terrible that might feel to say about a living creature. Emily is in danger, and so we stifle our discomfort and set out on the gelding, which we shall be sure to return.
We do not travel as quickly as Lord Thomas would like—he urged us to take two horses, or at least a younger and faster one—but we must minimize our transgression. In any event, we move faster than Lord Thomas, and that must be enough.
When we near the shoreline where we’ll find theTemerity, we stop near a spring and tie the horse there, with a promise to return. We do not dare let the gelding wander the moors. He is unlikely to be accustomed to such freedom.
We are at the top of the cliff overlooking the shore. It is barely past dawn, or so I presume by the quantity of light, but the closer we get to the water, the less we see of the sun or anything else. Marine fog has rolled in, thick as smoke. While it helps to hide our approach, it also prevents us from knowing exactly where to find the wreck. Fortunately, Lord Thomas catches up and is able to guide us.
“There is a skiff,” he says as we creep close to the cliff. “My son headed home long ago, and the boat is there for his return. He has left Emily with a single guard. They are belowdecks, in the captain’s quarters.”
I relay that to Nicolas, who nods. “An excellent choice of location. Well, excellent for us. They doubtless chose it because it is the most comfortable room on the ship, but it is also situated in a way that will allow us to sneak up.”
Before we see the skiff, we hear it, knocking gently against the waves. TheTemeritylooms a hundred feet from shore, a shapeless hulk swathed in fog. While I cannot imagine anyone spotting us in this tiny boat, I am not comfortable rowing straight to it, and neither is Nicolas. He agrees to my suggestion, which is that he will hide as best he can, stretched out at the bottom of the skiff as I row, gritting my teeth so that Nicolas does not notice when my arm begins to ache. I must be the one who rows—if someone spots me, I will look far less menacing a target.
I am not spotted. Lord Thomas, being able to sprint over the water, has reported back that no one else is onboard. It is only Emily and her single guard, both in the captain’s quarters. Norrington is confident he has chosen his spot well. Wherever Nicolas chooses to hide, it will not be on the broken and sinking remains of his former ship.
It is only as I speak to Lord Thomas that I realize a flaw in my plan. Not the plan to rescue Emily—Nicolas is working on that, and I will leave him to it, as he knows the ship’s layout best. No, I mean my plan to never let Lord Thomas know about young Andrés’s fate. They are both ghosts on the same ship.
Will Lord Thomas not see Andrés? I admit I am not entirely certain how that works. I have never been in the company of two ghosts. I presume they exist in the same plane.
Lord Thomas will see Andrés. And then what? Can I ask Andrés not to say what happened to him? Is that fair to the boy? Should I remain silent and hope it does not come up in conversation?
When Lord Thomas flits off, I ask Nicolas, who agrees that I should not mention it. Neither will he, and if Andrés does, we shall deal with that. Perhaps we can at least avoid telling Lord Thomas that we suspect his son of the deed.
For now, Lord Thomas does not mention seeing Andrés. We make it to the rope and up onto the deck unseen. The ship lurches to one side. Her hull is heavily damaged, but the water is too shallow for her to properly sink. From the deck, she appears whole, as if someone has simply tilted her.
I peer about for Andrés, and when Lord Thomas leaves us to check on Emily again, I call to the boy but get no response.
Is Andrés still here? What if he has managed to leave the wreck? If so, how will we find him?
“Miranda?” Nicolas whispers as I pause, crouched on the deck, lost in my thoughts. “Did you hear something? Is it Andrés?”
I shake my head and murmur that all is well. All isnotwell. I am becoming Portia, fretting over eventualities. That isn’t like me. No, itcanbe me, just as it can be Rosalind. It is good to consider possibilities and not run headlong into danger. Only there is no grave danger right now. We are safely onboard. So why am I searching for things to fret about?
Because I am unsettled. Something about this bothers me.
“Miss Miranda,” Lord Thomas says as he appears from the fog. “My son will return to check on Emily this morning. We must hurry while she is belowdecks with only one guard.”
Annoyance sparks. We have been moving as fast as we can, and it is never fast enough for Lord Thomas.Move faster. Do this. No, don’t do that. Quickly!