Bertrice Small - Bedazzled

Tom Southwood shook his head. "She's all mine, madame," he said. "Several of my relations have their own vessels now, but we still sail under our family's banner for a number of reasons."

"I understand," Cat said, "but will you sell me a third share?"

"Aye," he consented, "I will, madame. The price you agree upon will indeed ease my loss, and allow me to pay my men a small stipend, for they lost, too, by our sojourn to El Sinut."

India had been fascinated by the conversation, but now as the talk turned to concluding the bargain, her mind wandered. How far had her message traveled? How would her husband retrieve her safely? What would her family think of all of this? She was hesitant to write to them just now for fear they might somehow manage to prevent her from returning to El Sinut. She knew it was a silly fear, for they were so far away in Scotland, or perhaps England, at this point in time. Still, she might err on the side of caution, and wait.

***

Several weeks went by during which the Royal Charles was restored to her full glory, but the cannon installed by the janissaries remained aboard. Thomas Southwood had decided that the loss of some cargo space was worth the ability to defend his ship. Finally, one sunny morning, he and Ian came to bid the ladies a farewell, the vessel being fully loaded, and ready to set sail for Istanbul.

"When do you plan to send India home?" the captain asked Lady Stewart-Hepburn. "Have you written to your son yet?"

"There has been no time with all your excitement, and Ian's plans," Cat said ingenuously. "I shall, of course, write to Jemmie and Jasmine soon. I enjoy India's company, and think I may take her with me to my villa outside Rome for the winter. Next spring is time enough for her to return home." She smiled at him.

"I leave the matter in your hands, madame. I have done my duty in rescuing my cousin from Barbary. My conscience is clear," Tom replied with a smile of his own. He kissed her hand, then turned to India. "I am happy to see you are returning to reason, Cousin."

"Go to hell," India told him, smiling brightly.

He laughed. "I think you will be too old by the time you return to Scotland for a husband. Perhaps it will suit you to live out your life without a man. I wish you good fortune."

"Farewell, Thomas Southwood. Go safely," India said, and turned away to bid Ian Stewart-Hepburn an adieu. "I hope your venture will succeed. Listen to Tom. He is knowledgeable, if pigheaded."

Ian chuckled. "Godspeed, India," he said with a wink.

For a moment, she looked a bit puzzled, and then India realized that Ian knew of her plans. She laughed aloud, then said, "I thank you, Ian. You may look like your father, but you are your mother's son as well, I think." Then she kissed him on the cheek.

Several days later, Captain Pietro appeared at the Villa del Pesce d'Oro. He was shown into the salon where the two women awaited him. He tried hard not to gape at the exquisite furnishings and the two beauties, only coming to his senses when Conall poked him roughly.

"Well, man, what news do you bring?" Conall demanded.

The smuggler drew the leather envelope from his shirt, and handed it to Conall. "We could not deliver it, signore."

"Why?" The single word snapped from India's mouth.

"There is a rebellion in El Sinut, madonna. The city was half aflame, the people alternating between fleeing into the hills and rioting. The janissaries were attempting to restore order. It was impossible to even get near the palace. Besides, the dey has been killed by the janissaries. He was, it appears, disloyal, or so the rumor being bruited about said. I am sorry, madonna."

India never heard him. She had already crumpled to the floor.

^{SCOTLAND AND ENGLAND, 1627-1628}

"Never, madame, did I expect to ever see you standing in this hall again," the duke of Glenkirk said to Lady Stewart-Hepburn. "Welcome home, Mother. Welcome home!"

"Thank you, Jemmie." Cat let her eye wander. Little had changed in all the years she had been gone. Her great-grandmother, Janet Leslie, still commanded the hall from her portrait above one of the two large fireplaces. God's boots, she thought. Did Mam ever face the problems I now face, and must solve? Cat doubted it. "Where is India?" he asked her.

"She is with her mother, Jemmie. They need to talk," Cat replied. "India has suffered greatly."

"Come and sit by the fire, madame," he invited her, leading her by the hand to a comfortable chair. He signaled a servant to bring them refreshment. "India deserves to suffer for her disobedience," James Leslie said harshly. "I suppose haeing had his way wi her, that young English fop deserted her. I always thought it was India's wealth that attracted him, nae just what was between her legs. I suppose when he discovered only her mother and I could release that wealth to her, he departed. Still, either way she's ruined herself, and I'll nae forgie her for it!"

"God's blood, Jemmie, you've become narrow and pompous in your old age. While it is true that India eloped with young Leigh, she was wise enough to do so on an O'Malley-Small vessel. She went aboard disguised as an old lady being escorted by her nephew to Naples. Fortunately, the captain was your wife's cousin, Thomas Southwood. Her ruse was quickly discovered, and India was taken into his custody while her equally foolish swain was confined to his cabin. The only intimacy between them were a few stolen kisses.

"Unfortunately, the ship was taken by Barbary corsairs out of the state of El Sinut. When he saw they would be captured, Tom Southwood advised his men to accept Islam and avoid the galleys. He did so himself, and was eventually able to steal back his own ship. Young Leigh, however, offended the dey of El Sinut, and is still today in captivity and chained to an oar. We don't even know if he is yet alive."

"And my daughter? What happened to India?" the duke asked.

"The dey was attracted to her, and took her into his harem. He fell in love with her, and made her his first wife. She was very much in love with him, but Tom Southwood kidnapped her when he and his men escaped El Sinut. He would not listen to her when she tried to tell him she was content and happy. He brought her to me in Naples. When I heard the story, I, of course, planned to send her home to her husband, but then we received word there had been some sort of civil unrest in El Sinut, and that the dey was killed trying to put it down. She has been inconsolable ever since. That was why I decided to bring her home, instead of keeping her with me in Rome this winter. India needs her family now more than she has ever needed them, Jemmie."

"We told all our neighbors that she hae remained in England, and that she was visiting her relations in France and Italy," he said slowly. "I doubt anyone in England knew of her foolishness since we hae planned to leave London, and hae already taken our leave of the court just before she ran away. This misadventure in Barbary can be covered up if we are clever and careful. She is close to twenty, but I believe I can still obtain a good husband for her. Her wealth will be the key to her salvation."

"Jemmie, there are things you don't know," Cat told her son.

"Do not be in such a hurry to find India a husband. She is not able to face such a prospect right now. Be patient with her."

"Madame, I hae surely been more than patient wi India, but my patience is at an end," the duke of Glenkirk said irritably. "There are several possibilities, and I'll hae the wench wed before Twelfth Night. Then she is nae my responsibility any longer, and whatever mischief she may get into 'twill nae be my problem. 'Twill be her husband's problem. I love her dearly, Mother. Every bit as much as I love the sons and daughters of my own blood, but India is a wild wench. I canna hae her disrupting my household. Jasmine would nae go to Ireland to find a husband for Fortune when India disappeared, and she, poor lassie, is eager to wed, and be gone to her own home. Nay, India must be wed as soon as possible, madame."

"And what man will have me, my lord, in my condition?" India said as she came into the hall. She walked directly up to her stepfather.

James Leslie's dark-green eyes grew almost black with his anger as he saw her rounding belly. "Jesu!" he swore angrily. "Whose bastard do ye carry, mistress?"

"How dare you speak to me in that manner," India said in cold, even tones. "I carry the son my husband and I joyously created. This child is all I have left of my lord, Caynan Reis. I had a husband, Papa. I will have no other. No man will ever take his place."

The duke of Glenkirk was speechless for a long moment.

"You have seen your mother?" Cat asked quietly.

"Aye, and I have told her all," India said. "She understands, and says I am welcome home. I have told her I do not intend to stay after the baby is born, but rather will purchase a house near my brother's seat at Cadby. I prefer English winters to highland winters."

James Leslie finally found his voice again. "And what will you tell people about your bairn, mistress? Who will ye say his sire was? Some infidel who took you into his harem? The child is a bastard, India, plain and simple. You will nae find a husband wi that bairn about yer neck like a millstone."

"I was wed to Caynan Reis," India said wearily.

"In a Christian church? By a Christian minister or priest?" he demanded furiously. His temples were throbbing as they had not throbbed in many months. He loved her. He had raised her, but she was the most irritating female he had ever known in his entire life.

"We were married by the grand iman of El Sinut," India said, "but my husband promised me a Christian marriage when we could find a Protestant minister who would be discreet."

"Why did the minister need to be discreet?" the duke shouted.

"Because for an Islamic ruler to wed in a Christian marriage ceremony would be a cause of strife. My lord was the sultan's governor in El Sinut," India explained. "God's blood, Papa, Mama's first husband, Prince Javid Khan, married her secretly in a Christian rite."

"The bairn will be thought a bastard, India," the duke said.

"As my mother was said to be a bastard?" India countered.

"Your mother was a royal Mughal princess," he replied. "She was raised by her father in India. Your grandfather, Akbar, was wise enough to know that if your grandmother Velvet had brought her daughter home with her to England, the bairn would hae been considered bastard-born. When your mother came to England, she was full grown, and none but your aunt Sybilla dared to question her birth, and she only because she fancied herself in love wi me, and was jealous of your mother, whom I preferred."

"I am a wealthy woman, Papa. I do not need another husband. I do not care what anyone may think of my son's parentage. If I find England unwelcoming, then I shall go to France or Italy," India told them.

"I think we should end this discussion for now," Cat said. "My granddaughter and I have had a long trip, Jemmie. Besides, I have another matter of great importance to discuss with you. India, my child, return to your mother while I talk with my son."

India bent to kiss Cat's cheek, and then she hurried off.

"You like her," James Leslie said.

"I do. She is honest, and loyal. Give her time, Jemmie, but now to that other matter. As you know, Bothwell is buried at the foot of our garden in Naples. However, his heart is in a silver reliquary that I have carried with me since his death. I have brought it home to bury in Scotland. The spot will be unmarked as will our future grave here. Grant me this request, and I shall never ask anything of you again," Cat finished.

James Leslie shook his head. "You nae ere asked anything of me, madame, ye always give wi yer whole heart. My father was a fool to ever let ye go."

"Nay," Cat said. "Do not criticize Patrick, for ours was a match made by our families when I was barely out of nappies, and he a young man. He was as set in his ways as you are, my son, and I was as wild as a highland pony. I loved him well until he betrayed me by allowing the king to victimize me, but the truth is, and we both know it, Jemmie, Francis Stewart-Hepburn was the great love of my life. Both of us would have gone to our graves never admitting that had your father not been so mindless and jealous in the matter of the king. Patrick Leslie was not foolish. He was simply stubborn, and every bit as wild and proud-hearted as I was, though he would not admit to it."