Captain Vane's Daughter Read online

  The rights of Sherry F. Chancellor, writing as Jillian Chantal to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him/her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it was published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

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  Copyright© 2018 Sherry F. Chancellor

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  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my Lake Mystic Writer’s Retreat pals; Dana Frye, Carolyn Hector Hall, Miriam Carter, Bren Christopher, and Joan Denman.

  What happens at the lake stays at the lake…until it’s a published book. And speaking of that, when will we write that tale of the monster of the lake?

  Chapter One

  Lydia

  Jamaica, 1738

  The ancient man with the gold-capped tooth and eye patch stared at me with a sad face. Or at least that was what I hoped as my blood threatened to stop traveling its path along my arteries and deprive my heart of the life-giving liquid.

  Before I could turn and run, a whisper wafted across the breeze. Or was it the breeze itself? Surely the wind couldn’t speak my name in such a frightening susurration of sound. It was haunting and sent a trickle of ice down the length of my spine, despite the heat of the evening.

  “Ly—di—a, Ly—di—a, Ly—di—a.”

  The noise surrounded me as if it were a slow-moving tornado and I was stuck in the middle.

  I leaned forward to see if I could figure out if the sound was coming from the creepy man or if I was imagining the whole thing.

  He pointed a bony finger at me and I would’ve sworn his whole arm was shaking. Could he be as scared as I? And, if so, why didn’t he say something to let me know if he was friend or foe?

  Finding my voice over the sound of my name still being floated on the breeze all around me, I called out, “What? What are you trying to tell me?”

  The gentleman didn’t answer. He continued to point his finger, even going so far as to wave his hand from side to side.

  Confused, I looked over my shoulder and gasped.

  Dashing forward and falling to my knees, I pushed the dirt from the bottom of the tombstone. The top name I could read, the surname was obscured until I cleaned it with my gloved hand.

  Once the name was uncovered, I gasped again. This was what I had been searching for. It seemed as if my whole life had been on hold until this very moment in time. I’d finally found the grave of the man who everyone said was my father. How had the old man known?

  I glanced back toward where he’d stood and he was gone. Had he ever really been there or was it a flight of fancy from being in this deserted cemetery alone in the twilight?

  What wasn’t a fancy was my name still being called on the wind. Shaking my head, I tried to clear the noise from my ears, but it was insistent that I pay attention.

  The temperature dropped. I stood, recognizing what that meant, but before I could make a run for a safe place, a deluge hit me, water running off my hat and into my face.

  Forlorn, I almost sat on the ground right where I was and allowed myself to drown. In the very moment I made the decision to do so, someone called out, “Hello. I say, you do realize there’s a storm, don’t you?”

  A young man in a black frock coat came striding across the grass, which was quickly turning to mud. He was soaking wet as well, although the rain seemed to bead up on the great coat rather than soak through the material. I had a fleeting thought that the wool coat seemed out of place on this island where the temperature was quite warm. The man’s hair was plastered to his head and I realized mine had to look as bad as his.

  “I’m Leo Mountbank.” The man held his hand out as if he were in a formal parlor.

  I took hold of it. “Lydia Vane.”

  “Oh ho, Miss Vane. It is Miss, right?”

  “That’s right. I’m not married.” Could this evening in the cemetery get any odder? I can’t believe we’re standing here chatting as water runs down our necks, ruining our clothing.

  Leo nodded at the tombstone. “Any relation to that old pirate?”

  I wasn’t about to tell this stranger that I was in Jamaica for the sole purpose of learning about this very pirate who was hanged in 1721, the year I turned two. Rumor had it he was in the Carolinas about seven months before my birthday in March of 1719. The official story was he was there in order to coax Blackbeard to help him retake Nassau from the English.

  My grandmother’s version was that he was there in order to seduce young ladies. She’d always said he fathered me while he was there and that was the great shame of my mother’s short life. A price she paid in full, it seems, by dying giving birth to me. My grandmother never forgave me for not obliging and doing the same.

  After a long childhood of being my grandmother’s whipping post, as soon as she herself was in the ground, I booked passage away from home, planning to never return. I had a burning need to leave that place.

  “Hello? Miss?”

  I looked up from my reverie into the brownest eyes I’d ever seen peering into my own. “Oh, I beg your pardon. I was thinking about where to go to get out of this rain.”

  “Come inside the vicarage.” Mr. Mountbank placed his hand on my elbow as if to lead me away from the tombstone.

  It had gotten darker in the cemetery, if that were possible. But maybe it was the effect of the rain that made it appear so. “You’re the vicar?”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Good Lord, no. God knows I’m the sinner in my family. Tis my brother who heard the call of the church and the even louder call to come to this heathen place to try to establish the ways of the Europeans here.” He leaned close to me. “I must confess, I even failed as an altar boy.”

  “That sounds extremely unlikely, sir.” I wiped the water off my face. My poor hat had to be in shambles by now. It was doing nothing to keep me or my hair dry. Of course, being a little bit of a thing, it wasn’t designed for this kind of weather in any event.

  “Come along. We’re both drenched to the skin. Or I know I am.” Leo looked down at his trousers.

  My eyes followed his gaze and immediately regretted it. Well, maybe not regret as he was quite a handsome specimen, but by the heat in my face, I knew he knew I was paying too much attention to how those fawn-colored breeches clung to every muscle he had. And what muscles. Oh my, if I weren’t so wet and cold, I might even have swooned.

  Gathering my wits about me, I held my head up and looked him in the eye. “I’d give a fortune in gold for a warm cup of tea and a seat by a fireside.”

  “Then you must not be related to our Captain Vane.”

  My stomach clenched. Why would he say such a thing? “What? I beg your pardon?”

  “Captain Charles Vane wouldn’t have given his gold treasure away so readily.” Leo grinned at me and took my arm. “How about you pay in smiles instead? I have a feeling such an expression on your face would bedazzle even the worst of men.”

  “And is that what you are?” I allowed him to lead me through the cemetery and past a number of tombstones until we arrived at a small covered porch.

  “If I told you exactly how bad I am, you wouldn’t even deign to stand here beside me.” He winked, but I wasn’t so sure he was speaking in jest. I had to admit, if only to myself, that I was intrigued by his words. I’d been on a ship with some non-to
o-savory characters in the last weeks and this man didn’t seem as awful as some of them.

  “I’m sure you’re not as terrible as some I’ve heard rumors of.” Now that the rain wasn’t cascading down my gown, I realized how cold I was from standing in the wet frock.

  “Let’s get you inside before you become ill.” Leo turned the doorknob and led me into a large kitchen. It was divinely warm and smelled of fresh yeast bread. My mouth watered at the aroma and I licked my lips.

  “What are you doing coming in this door, Mister Mountbank? You know you s’posed to use the main entrance, like yer brother do.” A tiny woman with shiny, beautiful dark skin turned to me and tutted under her breath. “Lawd, what we got here, missy? Someone done try to drown you in the river, child?”

  The lady grabbed my hands. “Come on with me. I bet my Isabel has something ye can put on yerself til I can dry your gown.” As she dragged me from the room, over her shoulder, she said, “You get yerself outta my kitchen, ya scalawag and I’ll bring the tea into the parlor all proper-like when you’re both dry and decent.”

  As we made our way down a short hallway, the woman addressed me, “Honey, I don’t know what you’re doing with old Leo Mountbank, but you’d be well-advised to keep away from the likes of he.”

  “Is he so terrible? After all, he brought me here to get me out of the rain.”

  “Shouldn’t been out there with ‘im in the first place.”

  “I wasn’t out there with him as you put it. I was looking around the cemetery and the rain came down before he appeared.”

  “If I know that devil, he conjured that rain just to try to seduce a comely young lady like yerself.”

  By this time, she had taken me into a small room painted white with no adornments other than a massive cross hanging on the wall between two beds. There was a dark mahogany wardrobe that filled up one side of the space. The old woman flung open the doors and pulled out a purple gown. She turned and raked her gaze over my body. “I reckon this one’ll do.”

  While she stood there watching me with a never-wavering gaze, I stripped off my sodden clothing and tugged on the proffered garment. It was actually quite comfortable and unlike anything I’d worn before. It had no corset and no boning. The free flowing fabric and being nude underneath made me feel wicked.

  “I’ll get these items dried and pressed after I serve the tea. I hope the vicar is back from his late rounds by now so I won’t be leavin’ you at the mercy of that brother of his.”

  That brother was handsome as the devil himself and if I believed this lady, and I was sorely tempted to as it did seem as if that storm appeared out of nowhere, Leo Mountbank could very well be on the prowl to seduce a young lady. And maybe the old man I saw in the cemetery was some kind of demon summoned by the devil himself.

  I was already half-way to seduction what with my so-called rescuer’s compelling presence and now me with nothing on but a thin piece of fabric. He could make short work of his task as things were at the moment.

  Hoping she wouldn’t leave me alone with him, yet somehow also hoping she would, I was all a-tingle.

  “My stars, you look like you want the man to take your maidenhead. All flush and excited. Even your eyes are sparkling.” The woman shook her head and tutted again. “Not while old Bess is around. No ma’am. Not under the vicar’s roof. I’ve a good mind to lock you in here til yer things are ready for you to go, but Mr. Mountbank may tan me old hide if I did that.”

  I gasped at her words. Surely not. I’m not naïve and knew what kinds of things went on in this world, but I wouldn’t stand by and allow this woman to be hit on my behalf.

  She must have sensed my concern as she smiled at me.

  “Don’t you worry yer little ole head ’bout Bess here. I can take care of meself.”

  “You don’t have to worry about my maidenhead, either, then.”

  “Did ye done lose that yerself then?” Bess shook her head as if I were to be pitied.

  “Of course not. I merely meant I wasn’t about to go and bed Mr. Mountbank in the parlor.”

  “Bed me in the parlor? What’s going on in here, Bess?” A slim, dark-haired man I’d never seen before stood in the doorway, his brows furrowed and lips downturned in what appeared to be a permanent frown.

  “Oh goodness, Vicar. Mr. Leo brought this girl to the house and they was both wet through. I’ve put her in one of my Isabel’s gowns til I can get her own dry. I was gonna fix the tea.”

  The old woman seemed flustered and I wanted to make her feel as if she didn’t need to worry about me and what I might say.

  I stepped forward with my hand out. “I’m Lydia Vane and I was in the church’s cemetery looking at the graves when the storm came up. Your brother was kind enough to allow me shelter here in your home. I’ll not abuse his hospitality and will be gone as soon as I am able to change back into my own clothing.”

  “Come and have some tea, Miss Vane. It will warm you up after your ordeal.” The vicar turned and swept from the room as if he were royalty. And I suppose he was, here in his own home.

  Following behind him down a corridor filled with paintings of bucolic scenes, I was trying not to let him intimidate me. After all, what was he but a vicar? Weren’t they supposed to be kind?

  With a flick of the tail of his frockcoat, he stepped through an archway that led to another room. “Leo, please enlighten me to the meaning of the presence of this bedraggled woman in my home.”

  His words to his brother belied the words of welcome he’d uttered to me in the previous moment.

  I moved into the room myself to find Leo Mountbank seated on a small navy blue upholstered settee that appeared ludicrous. His shoulders were so broad and his height so massive as to make the piece of furniture seem to be as if made for a doll’s house, not the manse of a man of the cloth. It was all I could do not to laugh, especially when the occupant lifted one brow in my direction with a sardonic expression on his face.

  He turned to his brother. “Why my dear Tobias, I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Don’t be coy. Bess said you brought her here.”

  “Au contraire, my rigid brother. I didn’t bring a bedraggled lady into your home. I brought a fair maiden who was in peril of drowning on the edge of the churchyard. What if she’d died right outside the gates of the manse? What would your parishioners think?”

  “Don’t try to be charming. It might work on old women and children, but don’t forget, I know you and your ways.”

  Bess came in with the tea and placed the service on the small table in front of where Tobias Mountbank sat. She backed out of the room as soon as it was down.

  “Pardon me, Tobias, but are you going to ask our—I mean—your—guest to be seated?” Leo threw a wink in my direction before turning back to his brother.

  “As I have no choice but to act the host, of course Miss Vane may be seated.” Tobias nodded at the chair closest to the fire. The one where once I was seated, no one would be able to see my face as it would be behind the wide sides that came up past my head. What kind of game was this?

  “We wouldn’t want to put you out, Tobias. We could send the lady home in borrowed clothing. Let’s call for the carriage and send her garments to her later.” Leo reached for the tea and poured a cup. When it was full, he stood and moved to my chair to pass it to me.

  As he leaned over for me to take it, he whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure he doesn’t sacrifice you.”

  Puzzled, I could only stare at him and hope he was kidding. I knew the Christian church didn’t allow such things, but since I was in a strange country, I wasn’t sure how the church tenets might intermingle with local custom.

  “What did you say?” Tobias demanded.

  “Just a joke, Brother. You do know you’ve become a real curmudgeon since you came to this godforsaken land, don’t you? Wouldn’t you have been happier staying in England?”

  Tobias’ face turned so red I thought he might choke, bu
t he was able to contain himself. He rubbed his hand over his thigh and didn’t speak for a few moments, almost as if he couldn’t get any words out. It was most peculiar.

  “Ahh, yes. You could have been happy in England had not the fair and lovely Penelope thrown you over for that viscount.” Leo smacked his forehead. “And thus, the self-sacrificing vicar was born.”

  Tobias leapt to his feet, tea cup and saucer crashing to the floor and shattering on the wood. “Get out of here. Now.” His hand shook as he pointed a finger at his brother. “And take your harlot with you.”

  LEO

  Taking the girl I stumbled upon in the cemetery by the hand, I led her out of my brother’s house. I knew I’d goaded him too far, but he needed to be shaken out of the façade he’d adopted since he came to this side of the world. The woman who’d broken his heart had done more than that. She’d broken his spirit. Something I’d never allow to happen to me.

  Even the comely miss beside me who I sense had hidden depths I’d like to explore could never affect me in such a way as to make me give up my whole way of life.

  When Tobias announced he was going into the work of the church, no one was more amazed than I. Our mother was delighted and our father skeptical. Me? I was furious.

  And now here he was calling a young woman he didn’t even know a harlot. I almost laughed at that until I saw the look on her face. I mean, really, if anyone would know what a harlot was, it would be Tobias. After all, he’d been quite the skirt-chaser before he took on the mantle of God.

  Remembering I had the lovely Lydia’s hand, I glanced down at the top of her head. “Where am I taking you? Are you staying with friends nearby?”

  “The rain has stopped and I can make my way alone. Thank you for the offer.”

  “No. I can’t allow that. It’s dark and it’s getting later by the moment. Port Royal may not be the lawless place it was twenty years ago, but it’s still pretty rough for a woman alone. Please allow me to escort you. Trust me. It’s safer to have a man with you.”