Archer, Jane (8 page)

"Unfortunately," Alexandra said, almost in a daze, her thoughts whirling in her head.

"I thought you might be interested if you needed passage somewhere more quickly than Jake could take you. If you like, I could speak with the captain."

"Oh, no. No. I'd like to rest first. I'm not quite well enough to travel."

"But of course, my dear. Take all the time you need for we're delighted to have you here. Perhaps you'll soon regain your memory."

"I hope so."

"You might like to talk with this captain. He may be able to help you with your identity. After all, his was the only schooner that docked just before the storm, and you were probably lost at sea about that time."

"I wouldn't want to bother him."

"No bother at all. In fact, since he's an acquaintance, I'll invite him over for dinner tomorrow night. You could talk with him then. We might
all
learn something interesting, don't you agree?" Caroline asked, probing deftly.

Alexandra looked quickly about her as if some answer would appear to save her from this confrontation, but there seemed to be nothing she could do to prevent it.

"As you say, Caroline, we may all learn something interesting."

"Excellent. I couldn't be more delighted." Caroline stood up and started for the door.

Alexandra followed her, dimly trying to stay unaffected by the woman's words, but dreading a meeting with Captain Sully.

"And Alex—" Caroline began as she paused at the door.

"Yes?"

"Since Jake will be so busy, why don't you just rest in the morning. I'm sure you need it, and we can ride another day."

Yes. Yes, that will be fine. Good night."

"Good night, dear, and sleep well."

Chapter 6

"Miss Alexandra. Miss Alexandra," called Leona as she drew back the drapes, letting the warm afternoon sun flood the room.

Alexandra awoke, struggling out of her sound sleep, and for a moment couldn't place the deep, soft bed with the ornate hangings, or the bedroom with the slow moving dark woman. But gradually her memory returned and with it the problems, frustrations, and horror that had filled her recent life, but she determinedly pushed these from her mind as she sat upright. She hadn't slept so well since long before Olaf's death, and she felt refreshed, ready to face whatever was necessary to complete her promise to that old friend. %

"Miss Alexandra, you done slept through half the day," Leona said, almost scolding. "Course, Mister Jake said not to disturb you on no account. And,
after all,
now Mister Hayward, he said get you up after noon so you could go riding with him when he came home. So—that's what I'm doing. Can't please them all, all the time—" Leona's words trailed off as she set a breakfast tray across Alexandra's lap.

Breakfast in bed! What a luxury for Alexandra after the days in the cramped cabin of the schooner.

"Do you know—is Captain Jake here?" Alexandra asked, almost shyly, hating to admit her interest.

Leona grinned knowingly. "That's some man, ain't he? A girl just can't resist him—"

"Oh, no. It's just—"

"I know, honey, but remember he's Miss Caroline's man while he's here."

"That's fine with me. I'm certainly not interested in him—that way. I merely wanted to know how his repairs were coming."

"He's been gone since daybreak—out at his ship. Seems to me that he's in some hurry to get out of the Bahamas. I can remember the time—but we'd best get you dressed if you're finished eating.

Alexandra would liked to have heard what Leona had been going to say, but she stilled her impulse to question her further.

"This here is the best we could do on such short notice. It's one of Miss Caroline's old riding habits, and I must admit it's seen better days. Still, it's all there is. I altered it slightly, but it's a little short."

"It'll be fine, Leona. I really appreciate what you have all done for me."

In fact, Alexandra thought that Caroline had purposely chosen a habit completely out of style and one that would not look good on her, but she would simply have to wear it. She thought longingly of her trunks of fine clothing, but dismissed them as being lost to her. Yet, if Captain Sully was coming to dinner, she might be able to get her things returned. She shuddered at the thought of being with him again, of having to ask for her things. What would he do? What if Captain Sully decided to tell them that she came from New York? He knew she had money, but that was all he knew. Alexandra breathed a little easier; the captain of
The Charlotte
couldn't really identify her.

After Alexandra had dressed, she surveyed herself in the full-length mirror. The outfit accentuated her curves, making her realize that she was indeed a full grown woman. She had been isolated for so long that she had never given it much thought until Stan Lewis and Captain Sully had made it obvious that they thought she was a woman, a woman to be desired.

"I'm working on another gown for you to wear this evening, Miss Alexandra, to the dinner party," Leona told her.

Alexandra felt chilled, remembering Caroline's words of the night before. Yet, she needed her trunks. How was she to get them back if she didn't face Captain Sully? Anger and necessity gave her more courage as she thought of her treatment at his hands. If he came, she would have to approach him, she decided.

"Well, I'll look forward to this evening and the gown you're preparing for me," Alexandra said.

"Do you suppose Hayward is waiting for me now?"

"I suspect he is, honey. That one's powerful eager to see you again," Leona said.

Alexandra smiled, pleased that the gentleman found her attractive; yet she was concerned with his interest. Before her encounters with Stan and Captain Sully, she could have enjoyed a man's attentions more easily. Now, she had begun to suspect them all of wicked, ulterior motives. Could it be so difficult for a man to like a woman just for herself, and not because of her wealth or her body? She didn't quite know what to think or believe anymore. She should hate all men, and yet something strange happened to her in the presence of Jake. But no, she wouldn't think of him. She would go riding with Hayward and try to put all of this out of her mind—for the present.

"Alexandra," Hayward said graciously as she reached the bottom step leading to the foyer. His brown eyes glowed warmly with pleasure. "You look even more beautiful today."

She smiled at him. "Thank you, Hayward. I suspect that a good night's sleep in such a comfortable bed would work wonders for anyone."

He led her out the front door, and she was im- pressed with the lush, tropical growth that covered the island, held at bay only by the diligent work of gardeners. There was a warm, lazy quality about the island that was in great contrast to the climate of New York.

Hayward led her to the front lawn where two horses were being held by a dark colored groom. Alexandra had never before been around so many Negroes and she was curious about them although she tried to keep her interest to herself.

"I chose this mare for you, Alexandra, because she is gentle, but yet not a nag."

"Oh, she looks perfect. A real beauty."

"I fear that my one passion is horses, and I devote myself to them a good deal of the time."

Hayward mounted his horse, then waited as the groom assisted Alexandra into her saddle. When she had settled herself, arranging her skirts, they walked slowly away from the house, then turned down a narrow dirt path leading deep into the lush growth of the island. Alexandra found her mount easy to handle. In fact she preferred a faster, more spirited animal for she loved to race on the back of a fine horse, feeling the wind in her hair. This slow, ambling pace was not exactly her idea of fun, but she could hardly gallop away from Hayward; besides it being rude, she would undoubtedly get lost.

This man with her seemed to blend in with his surroundings, becoming a part of the slow, unchanging rhythm of the island. He would never blow hot or cold, she thought, but would remain constant in whatever he did, whatever he felt. He would probably not even have much of a temper, or would control himself if he did. He was a handsome man, her thoughts continued, but his easygoing grace did not seem to touch her. He left her entirely without feelings for him.

She shook her head, trying to push her thoughts away so that she could simply enjoy the beauty of the island and the feel of the horse under her. Why did she have this sudden interest in men, especially after what had happened to her? Why was she suddenly noticing the way they moved, their voices, their bodies—oh, yes, their bodies. It seemed to have begun on
The Flying J
when she had first seen Jake standing over her, looking so powerful, so masculine. She mustn't think of him—she couldn't trust him and he made her body feel so traitorous, as if he communicated directly with it, bypassing her mind.

"What do you think of this, Alexandra?" Hayward asked.

"What?" she asked, glancing around quickly. Lost in her own thoughts, she had hardly noticed their progress deep into the island, and now she realized that Hayward had led her to a clearing, with soft grass as a floor and the branches of trees meeting overhead to form a roof over them; in the center was a clear, dark pool of water. It was so perfect a setting that she could hardly believe it was real. New York City had always been her home and this abundance of natural beauty was almost too much to be true.

"Oh, Hayward, it's lovely, truly beautiful," she said as he dismounted and came to help her off her horse.

"I'm glad you think so. It's a special place of mine."

"I can see why."

They left the horses and walked slowly toward the pool, surrounded by the sounds and smells of the island. They sat down by the still water, Hayward close beside her. She stiffened slightly.

Hayward noticed her movement. "Don't be afraid of me, Alexandra. We don't know what your life has been like, or how men have treated you, but I wouldn't harm you for the world. Please believe me."

He sounded so sincere that she turned her dazzling gaze upon him, wanting to trust him. She could not help noticing that he seemed almost to lose himself in her nearness, as if there was nothing else alive for him except her. It gave her a strange feeling of power and she began to be aware of her innate feelings of femininity. A woman did have power, she thought, but of a different sort than a man. A pleasant thrill went through her as Hayward continued to be lost in the spell that seemed to bind him to Alexandra.

"Have you lived in the Bahamas all your life, Hayward?"

He grinned boyishly. "Yes, I was born here. Caroline was, too. But that is about all we've ever had in common. She would like nothing better than to leave the islands, while I think I would be lost anywhere else. About the only time you couldn't have gotten Caroline away from here was during the war. Oh, but you're from the North—"

"Yes, it seems so, but that's all over now," she said warmly, wanting him to go on.

He flushed slightly, then continued. "Well, that was the wildest time ever and I think she thought it would go on forever. You see, the South was staying alive by blockade running and the Bahamas got almost all of that trade. It was rough then, and the islands were crowded with tough men and women. They came here to make money, fast money, and most of them did. Of course, they spent it just as fast as they made it, and that's where the islands should have made their fortune. You see, the money was spent here—no one stayed in the South."

"Yes?" Alexandra encouraged him. She had never heard this side of the story before.

"Well, I suppose I was just as much taken in as Caroline. I thought the prosperity would never end, and I guess she thought the good times would never end."

"What happened?"

"Well, of course, the war ended, then it was worse here than ever before. The people left and they took the money with them. I guess the islanders didn't hang onto their part, or either they spent it. So they were left with nothing when it was all over."

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's my own damn fault. I should have looked far enough ahead, but I've never had a business head. None of my family ever has. You see, my ancestors were Tories and came here to build a cotton plantation when the rebels won the war for independence. Well, they built the plantation all right. You've seen the house, but what with one thing and another, it failed. All the rich cotton plantations failed. It just wasn't right here."

"Could nothing be done?"

"No. They hung on, though, just like we have. I had the money then—during the war, but I built warehouses in Nassau. It seemed a good investment. We even own part of the Royal Victoria Hotel there, the grandest hotel in the Bahamas, and also the emptiest. We can't sell it now, can't even give it away. We even lost some of the warehouses in the hurricane that hit us in 1866, as if losing the war hadn't done enough destruction to the islands. So, my dear Alexandra, I own an unproductive plantation, a rundown mansion, empty warehouses, and part of a hotel that goes begging for customers."

"I'm truly sorry, Hayward," she said, feeling uncomfortable with his open confession. She could understand his being upset over his fate, but she couldn't sympathize with his failure to make more of his life.

"No, no," he said, waving his hand as if to push away her concern. "We are far from destitute. I have hopes that the Bahamas will become important in shipping once more, and when it does I'll be here—ready."

"But what will you do in the meantime?"

"Oh," he said casually, turning soft brown eyes on her, "what we've always done here in the Bahamas. Most of the schooners you'll see in the waters around here are wreckers."

"Wreckers?"

"Oh yes. I own several myself. The islands are hard to maneuver around and frequently ships crash. The wreckers salvage what they can and get paid handsomely for their service."

"Oh," Alexandra said, thinking that it sounded gruesome.

"Wrecking is the business of the Bahamas, and it can pay off handsomely. I usually handle the business end of it, but occasionally I go out on my schooners if it's an interesting, or especially profitable wreck."