The Sea Witch

  Now she clucked around the three brooding young women like a mother hen, trying to lift their spirits with silly, pointless gossip gleaned from Edwina's tea. "Have you heard about the gown Edwina Cannon has commissioned for the village ball? Cloth of gold, almost as fine as that worn by King Charles's mistress at his masque last year. " Her voice rose as it always did when she was caught up in the excitement of the moment. "Think of the life Edwina will live in London if, as her mother hints, Lord Fenwick should propose marriage. And she's only, " she added pointedly, "ten and six. " Her gaze lingered a moment on Ambrosia, hoping to see a reaction.

  When nobody spoke, she circled the table pouring tea. "Will you three be going to the vicarage tonight for the weekly psalm readings?"

  Ambrosia glanced at her two sisters. "I suppose we must. Do you think the vicar would forgive us if we chose to decline?"

  "He'd be bitterly disappointed. " The housekeeper was reluctant to push too far. But she knew that the young deacon, Ian Welland, who had just come up from London two years previous, had eyes for Ambrosia. Mistress Coffey had often seen him, while the choir sang, or the old vicar, Thatcher Goodwin, was giving his sermon, turn to stare at Ambrosia as she sat with her sisters in the family pew. And though Ambrosia dismissed him as too soft and dull for her taste, Mistress Coffey harbored hope in her heart that all was not lost. After all, Ambrosia was getting on in years. Her own mother had been only ten and five when she'd come here as a bride. Perhaps when enough of Ambrosia's friends in the village found themselves husbands, and began to raise families of their own, she might be inclined to do the same. If she couldn't snag a wealthy London lord, what better catch could there be than a gentle man of the cloth, who would neither drink nor use vile language nor resort to violence against others?

  The housekeeper looked up when she heard a knock on the door. "Now who would intrude at dinner hour?" She set down the teapot and hurried from the room.

  Minutes later she came back looking highly agitated. Her skin had gone pale. She was clutching her hands together at her waist. "There is a stranger here. He has asked to see the three of you. "

  "Did he give a name, Mistress Coffey?" Ambrosia set aside her tea.

  "A Captain Spencer. He said he brings news of your father and brother. And... " Her voice caught in her throat. Her lips trembled slightly as she realized the serious implications. "He is accompanied by the vicar and deacon. "

  "Here now. " Though her own heart was pounding, Ambrosia took charge, dropping an arm around the old woman's shoulders, before leading the others into the parlor.

  The old parson and his young assistant were seated on high-back chairs, nervously watching the door, their hands folded stiffly in their laps.

  It was a strange parade as Geoffrey Lambert gathered his shawl around his shoulders and helped Miss Mellon, as white as a ghost, across the room. Old Newton planted himself firmly in the doorway, like an avenging angel, while Mistress Coffey took two steps inside the room, then stopped.

  A man stood warming himself by the fire, staring thoughtfully into the flames.

  When the three sisters stepped into the room, the parson cleared his throat. "Ladies, this gentleman is Captain Riordan Spencer. "

  The stranger turned. He was tall, with dark hair badly in need of a trim spilling over a forehead that was furrowed with concern. His face, tanned from wind and sun, might have been handsome were it not for the seething emotions that seemed to harden all his features. His hands, big and work worn, were fisted at his sides.

  For a moment nobody spoke. Then Ambrosia stepped forward and offered her hand. "Captain Spencer, I'm Ambrosia Lambert. "

  "Miss Lambert. " He accepted her handshake, all the while staring into her eyes with a directness that was most unsettling.

  She felt a jolt at his touch. Such strength. And so much tension. It fairly vibrated through him. Up close, his eyes were as gray as the Atlantic during a storm. Eyes that harbored pain and mystery.

  "These are my sisters, Bethany and Darcy, and our grandfather, Geoffrey Lambert. Our nurse, Miss Winifred Mellon, our housekeeper, Mistress Coffey, and our friend, Newton Findlay. "

  The sea captain acknowledged the others, then turned back to Ambrosia. "I bring news of your father and brother. "

  For a moment she swayed slightly, and he reached out a hand to steady her. He could feel the slight trembling, and continued holding a hand to her shoulder a moment longer than necessary, as though to offer her a measure of strength for what was to come.

  "Are they... ?" She couldn't bring herself to say the words. For in that instant, she knew. Knew by the pain in his eyes. By the gruffness of his tone. By the fierce emotions that clouded his countenance.

  "There was a... " he glanced toward the old people, who were staring at him, then turned back to her "... terrible storm. The worst we've ever encountered. We lost many men. Your father and your brother, James, among them. "

  "No. Oh, no. " Bethany sank down in a chair and began to weep softly.

  Darcy knelt at her feet and buried her face in her hands. Mistress Coffey fled the room in tears, while Miss

  Mellon reached for her smelling salts to keep from fainting.

  The others spoke not a word. But they continued staring at this stranger, their features tight, their eyes bleak.

  Ambrosia clutched her hands together so tightly the skin was white. "Were you with them, Captain?"

  He nodded, wishing he could offer something more than words. "My ship, the Warrior, went down. I brought your father's ship, the Undaunted, to its home port, along with the sailors who survived. It was Captain Lambert's last request. "

  Ambrosia could hear her two sisters weeping softly, but she dared not look at them. Not yet. She had to get through this.

  "Their bodies... ?"

  He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Miss Lambert. But if it's any comfort to you, the sea holds them now. "

  "Aye. The sea. They loved it so. " She bit her lip and turned away, unwilling to let this stranger see her grief. She swallowed hard, then assumed her role as hostess. "You've come a long way, Captain. You must be hungry"

  "This isn't necessary, Miss Lambert. " He seemed almost annoyed at her civility at such a time. "I'll take a meal at the tavern, before returning to the ship. "

  "You can't possibly return tonight. " She glanced out the windows, seeing nothing but the fog that blanketed the countryside. "I marvel that you even made it to shore. "

  "It wasn't easy. " He continued to stare at her in that direct manner. "But I couldn't allow you to wait until the morrow for such news. I knew you must be beside yourself with worry. "

  "We were. Thank you. That was most kind, to sacrifice your own safety and comfort for ours. " She rang, and a minute later Mistress Coffey stopped in the doorway, holding a crisp handkerchief to her overflowing eyes.

  "Please prepare a meal for Captain Spencer. And bring ale, to chase the chill. " She turned to the vicar and his young deacon. "Have you had your dinner?"

  "Aye. " Vicar Goodwin stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "We must get back to the vicarage in time for the Bible reading. But if you'd like, Ambrosia, we'll pray now for the souls of your father and brother. I'm certain 'twould give you and your family much comfort. "

  She nodded, and signaled for her sisters to join her. The three gathered around their grandfather and elderly nurse, heads bowed, hands linked, as the old preacher intoned the prayers for the dead. When he had finished, he turned to the young deacon, who added his own prayers in a slightly more eloquent tone, hoping to impress his audience.

  By this time Bethany and Darcy were sobbing outright. Ambrosia drew them close and pressed her lips to their cheeks. "Go upstairs now. Take Grandpapa and Winnie with you. And when I'm finished here, I'll come to you. "

  For a moment they hesitated, and she managed a weak smile. "Go now. I'll be fine. I promise. "

  While they fled up the stairs, she escorted the vicar and deacon to the doo
r, where she offered her hand. "Thank you both for your kindness. "

  "You'll come to the vicarage tomorrow, Ambrosia, " the old preacher said. "Even without the... bodies of your father and brother, we must plan a proper funeral. "

  "Aye. " She endured the expression of sympathy from the deacon as well, before watching as the two men hurried out into the fog-shrouded night. Then she returned to the parlor.

  Newton was gone. He would, she surmised, handle his grief alone in his quarters above the carriage house, with a flask of ale.

  Their guest, she noted, had turned to stare into the flames. When the maid, Libby, entered with a tray and glasses, Ambrosia thanked her and sent her off to assist the housekeeper.

  She poured a tumbler of ale and walked up beside him.

  He turned and accepted it from her hand. "Thank you. " He nodded toward the tray. "I wish you'd join me, Miss Lambert. I'm sure you can do with a bit of fortifying right now. "

  "Aye. " She filled a goblet, but instead of sipping, she merely stared into its depths, as though searching for answers.

  "Here, Miss Lambert. " With his hand under her elbow he directed her toward a pair of chairs drawn up near the fire.

  Again she experienced that strange tingling when he touched her. As though all those raw emotions she was feeling were being felt by him as well. As though they shared some common bond of pain.

  When she was seated, he settled himself across from her and stretched out his long legs toward the heat of the fire. "I deeply regret the pain I've brought you and your sisters. "

  When she said nothing, he sipped his ale in silence.

  "Now that we're alone, tell me what happened, Captain. I need to know the details. Did you see my father and brother... die?"

  He nodded. "It happened right before my eyes. The ship staggered beneath the waves. They were swept over

  board, as was half the crew. There was no way to save them. We were all fighting for our very lives, trying to keep the Undaunted from being split from stem to stern. Their bodies had to be abandoned to the sea. "

  She closed her eyes a moment, fighting an almost overwhelming sense of loss. She wanted, needed desperately, one more chance to look upon her beloved father's face and that of her brother. To see them, to touch them, to kiss them goodbye. But that was to be denied her. Instead, she would have to make do with memories. And oh, the flood of tender, loving memories were almost more than she could bear.

  She opened her eyes to find Captain Spencer watching her. "And my father's ship? Has it sustained much damage?"

  "Aye. When you view it by morning light, you'll see that we were fortunate to make it to home port. The hold is flooded. The bow is badly torn. But the hull is sturdy. She's still a fine, proud ship. But it will take some work to make her seaworthy. "

  The housekeeper stepped into the parlor. Her eyes were red and puffy from weeping, but she managed to say, "I have a meal prepared. "

  "Thank you, Mistress Coffey. " Ambrosia stood and offered her hand. "I hope you'll understand that I must go to my family now, Captain. I hope that after you eat, you'll agree to spend the night. "

  He accepted her handshake. "I'd be honored, Miss Lambert. "

  She nodded. "When you've finished your meal, I'll have my housekeeper show you to my brother's room. I think you'll find everything you need for your comfort. "

  He continued to hold her hand. His voice lowered. "I want you to know this, Miss Lambert. Your father

  recognized the danger he was facing. While we fought the storm together he spoke of his three daughters. Of the pride he took in the three of you. Of his hopes for your future. And he asked a favor of me. One that I had hoped never to have to carry out, for I loved him as though he were my own father. " His voice was gruff with emotion. "Captain Lambert asked me, should I survive, to bring the Undaunted home, and tell you how very much he loved you, and was counting on you to carry on. "

  She caught her breath. "To carry on? He said that?"

  "Aye. "

  Tears swam in her eyes, but she blinked them away, desperate to get through this without breaking down. "Thank you, Captain Spencer. For... everything. "

  She turned and fled up the stairs, leaving Riordan Spencer alone with the housekeeper, who was weeping softly into her hands.

  Riordan sipped the strong hot tea Mistress Coffey had provided with supper. He couldn't recall a thing he'd eaten. Throughout his solitary meal, his mind had been cluttered with so many conflicting thoughts. And all of them centered on Ambrosia Lambert.

  He'd come here expecting something quite different. He'd been bracing himself for an emotional scene, with young women fainting and needing to be helped to their beds. A house filled with helpless old people and hysterical servants, perhaps. Which was why he'd taken the time to engage the assistance of the village vicar.

  Their grief had been deep. And sincere. That had been all too obvious. But the extraordinary strength in them, and especially in the eldest, Ambrosia, was remarkable.

  She'd known. He could see it in her eyes when she'd first looked into his. She'd sensed at once why he was here. But he'd watched how stoically she had absorbed the blow and carried on. He'd had to fight an almost overpowering desire to take her in his arms and offer her solace. To whisper in her ear that somehow everything would be all right, though he knew, in her young life, nothing would ever be the same again.

  He set down bis cup with a clatter. It wasn't tea he wanted, but something stronger. As he shoved away from the table, the housekeeper entered.

  "Would you like anything else before I show you to your room, Captain?"

  "A bit of ale would be nice. "

  She nodded and rang for the maid. "I'll have it brought to you, Captain Spencer. If you'll follow me. "

  She led him up the wide, curving staircase to the second floor. As he passed a closed door, he heard the muted sound of women's voices. One was weeping. Another was speaking softly.

  He frowned as he continued on until the housekeeper opened a door, then stepped aside. "A servant will be along with your ale, Captain. I hope you find everything you need. If not, you have only to ask Libby. "

  "Thank you, Mistress Coffey. " She left and he glanced around. The bed linens had already been turned down. A fire blazed on the hearth, steam still rose from the basin of warm water on the washstand. Despite their grief and shock, the Lambert family and servants had been able to efficiently handle the addition of an unexpected guest.

  Along one wall stood a desk and chair. Atop the desk was a small framed miniature of a handsome young man and a beautiful woman and their four little children. Riordan picked it up and studied the faces. His eye was drawn immediately to the girl with dark hair and eyes. Even in early childhood, it would seem, Ambrosia had been a rare beauty.

  At a knock on the door he called, "Come. " The maid entered and placed a tray on the night table. Like the housekeeper, the girl's eyes were red and puffy

  from weeping. "Will there be anything else, Captain Spencer?"

  "Nothing, thank you, Libby. "

  She nodded and let herself out.

  With a sigh he removed his jacket and stiff shirt before pouring a tumbler of ale. Then he walked to the fire and stared thoughtfully into the flames as he drank.

  It had been a long and difficult voyage home. And this day had been a particularly harrowing one. The fog had come in without warning, leaving them sailing blind. When they'd finally lowered the anchor just offshore, it had taken more than half a dozen trips from the Undaunted before all the crew was deposited safely on dry land.

  Riordan had taken the sailors to the village tavern, where he'd paid them their wages, and, as a bonus, had paid for their rooms and meals. By now they would have had their fill of fine English ale and even finer English wenches, and would be tucked up in their beds, snoring like beached whales. The thought made him smile for the first time in many days. He drained his glass and filled it a second time, setting it on the tray.

  He
sat on the edge of the bed and eased off his boots, then stripped naked and climbed between the covers. Plumping the pillows, he sat with one hand beneath his head, the other holding the ale to his lips. As he sipped, he found himself waiting for his mind and body to adjust to the unusual stillness of the house.

  His first days home from sea were always the same. After the pitch and roll of a ship beneath his feet, and the sound of the waves lapping against the hull, there was something unsettling about the eerie quiet he experienced on land.

  He forced himself to think about his future. He was a captain in need of a ship and a crew. And he had both here in Land's End. There was the Undaunted. After some much-needed repairs, she would be as good as new. And there was her crew. They'd proven themselves to be hardworking and fiercely loyal to Captain Lambert. And soon enough they'd be broke and restless and eager for the next seagoing adventure. A man would be a fool not to take them on. Especially a man who would be just as restless for his own next challenge. Ambrosia Lambert would be a challenge. Her brother, James, had once confided to Riordan that his sister could wield a sword like a man. At the time Riordan had scoffed. Now, having seen her, he wasn't so sure James hadn't spoken the truth. There was a quiet strength in her. This was no weeping willow, bending and blowing in the wind. She would be a majestic oak. Standing tall, while those around her were swept away the storms that raged through life. Any man would be fortunate to have a woman like that by his side. She had that rare combination of beauty and strength of will. There was intelligence in those dark eyes as well. A man could search the world and never find a woman to compare. He ought to know. Hadn't he sailed the world and back, without ever once losing his heart? In fact, he'd despaired of ever finding a woman who could hold his interest for more than a night. Perhaps, in Ambrosia Lambert, he'd met his match. As the thought struck, he set aside his ale. Fool, he berated himself. He'd spent less than an hour with the woman, and he was already giving in to fantasies. It was obvious that he'd been without the comforts of the flesh for too long. Besides, everyone knew that a man in love with the sea had no room in his heart for another. He blew out the candle and closed his eyes, determined to put his good friend's daughter out of his mind and get some much-needed sleep.