Bertrice Small - Skye O’Malley

“There are many pleasant places near London,” replied Captain
Small, “but I would prefer she was someplace far from the city. It’s
not just the child we must worry about. The lady Skye has had the
severe shock of her husband’s murder. She ought to be in a quiet
place. I have set course for my own home port, the town of Bideford
in Devon. I own a fine big house several miles outside the town.
My sister, Cecily, lives there. She will welcome you all, and adore
taking care of the lady Skye. After the babe is born your mistress
may continue on to London. But perhaps by then she will not wish
to go.”

Thus it was that the Mermaid rounded Hartland Point on a fine

October morning to sail into Barnstable Bay and then a little way
up the River Torridge to Bideford. As Skye stood at the ship’s rail.
watching the undulating woodland scenery that sloped down to the
riverbank, she saw with sure instinct that this was a safe haven.
Robert Small had been right. It was here that she would have her
baby in safety. Whatever else came afterward, she would find the
courage to face it.

As Osman had said, Skye was following her destiny.

England

The little town of Bideford, small though it was, was one of
the most prosperous seaports in England. Under the personal
protection of the great de Grenville family, Bideford was just
entering the period of its greatest prosperity when Skye arrived
there.

Set on the side of a long hill backed by a vast woodland, it sloped
downward to the river Torridge. Bideford, surrounded by rolling
hills, woodlands, fertile meadows, and orchards full of ripening
apples, was a most charming, colorful English town.

Although it was a seaport town, it was not situated directly on
Barnstable Bay. In order to reach Bideford, one had to cross the
estuary, avoiding the dangerous bar that stretched across its mouth.
The estuary was situated almost midway between Hartland Point and
the Rock of Death. Facing the bar estuary, some twenty miles away,
was Lundy Island. Its rocky, cloud-capped hills made Lundy Island
a favorite haunt of Devon pirates and smugglers and their counter-
parts from all over the world.

Safely across the bar and into the estuary, which flowed upland,
was the village of Appledore. At Appledore, the estuary forked,
becoming the Taw River to the left and the Torridge River to the
right. Now the countryside became lush with rich meadowland and
fruit orchards. A few miles up from Appledore the river reached
fertile, green Bideford. It was here, in the Bideford hills, that Robert
Small had his house, Wren Court.

Captain Small had made arrangements to be met at the dock when
he and Skye and the French couple disembarked, and the four rode
through the town and up the hills on two chestnut and two gray
mounts. The little party made a delightful picture riding against the
trees, trotting up the bright green hills.

As they approached Wren Court, Skye cried, “Oh, Robbie! Why
have you never told me what a beautiful estate you owned?” She
reined in her chestnut mare at the crest of a hill, and sat gazing
rapturously at the red brick manse. Jean and Marie pulled up beside
her, and Robbie was forced to stop with them.

He blushed. “It’s been in the family-the land at least-since the
time of Henry V. Wren Court itself was built during the reign of
Henry VII. That’s why the house is shaped like an ‘H’.”

Skye turned her brilliant blue eyes on him laughingly. “You’re
far too modest, Robbie. I wasn’t expecting anything so lovely.”

“The family is landed gentry, Skye. There’s always one or more
of us standing for Parliament. Unfortunately, I never married and
got myself an heir, and my sister Cecily was widowed before she
could have children. I suppose I’ll leave Wren Court to a family of
distant cousins.” He sighed, then shook his reins and the gray gelding
bolted for home, the other three mounts racing close behind.

The house was exquisite, a small and perfect jewel of mellowed
red brick, covered in places with shining dark ivy and surrounded
by green lawn. The crossbar of the “H” was two stories high, the
sides were each three stories high. Skye would later find that this
two-story section contained a long and light entry foyer on the ground
floor. This foyer had two sweeping staircases on either side, both
of which led to the second-floor open picture gallery. As the entire
second floor was open, the first and second stories together made
a huge two-tiered room. The wings of the main floor, to either side
of the entry, were the kitchens and dining rooms. The second floor,
beyond the gallery, was given over to the library and salons and the
entire third floor to bedrooms.

As they rode up the gravel drive, Skye was further enchanted by
the streams of sunlight catching the many leaded windows, and the
profusion of late roses perfuming the air. Above the circled doorway
was the family’s red-and-gold coat of arms. As they reached the
house, four grooms came running to take the horses, and Robert
Small carefully lifted Skye down from her saddle.

A small, plump woman with snapping blue eyes, silver hair, and
rosy cheeks appeared in the doorway. “So, you’re finally back,
Robbie! Is this Mistress Goya del Fuentes?” And without waiting
for an answer, she held out her arms to Skye. “You poor dear! Well, you’re safe now, and we’ll take good care of you and the child.
Come inside now!”

Dame Cecily swept Skye and Jean and Marie into the house to
a small receiving room where a cheerful fire blazed. “Sit down, all
of you. Why Robert made a lass in your condition ride from town
I’ll never know. A cart would have been slower but safer. No matter,
you’re here and well. Robert! See what’s keeping that shiftless
Martha! There should be wine and biscuits ready for four tired
travelers!”

“Oh, please Dame Cecily, you must call me Skye. Mistress Goya
del Fuentes is such a large mouthful.”

“Thank you, child. Now, I am a plainspoken woman, so I am
going to say what I have to now and then we will know where we
stand with each other.” Dame Cecily nodded to Jean and Marie,
who were seated on a couch to the right of the fireplace, listening
attentively.

“I know I may speak before your servants, as they are also your
friends and Robbie has written to me about them.”

Skye nodded. Dame Cecily took a deep bream. “My brother has
told me something of your history. Poor lamb! How terrible to
remember nothing of your life until a year ago. I do not approve of
your late husband’s business, but I can see you are a lady bom.
That’s plain. And Robert has always spoken highly of Khalid el
Bey. That, my dear, is good enough for me. I welcome you to
England with all my heart. Our home is yours as long as you wish
it. Forever if you like.”

Skye felt tears prick her eyelids. “Thank you, Dame Cecily!
Thank you with all my heart! Not just for myself, but for my servants
too.”

“Lord bless me, child, I almost forgot! Robert, I had the old
cottage at the end of the garden cleaned and refurbished for you,”
she said, nodding to the French couple. “I thought you might prefer
your privacy.”

Jean and Marie were deeply touched. The cottage given them
sent Marie into joyful delirium. It, too, was of soft red brick, with
a newly thatched roof and small leaded windows. There were two
rooms in the cottage. The first was a large chamber with a big stone
fireplace, the other a small bedchamber with a fine varnished oak
bedstead. The entire cottage was furnished in sturdy carved oak
furniture. The stone floors had been scrubbed and swept. There were
late hollyhocks and michaelmas daisies growing outside by the door.
Dame Cecily, it appeared, had thought of everything. A small book-
lined room off the library was set aside for Jean to work in. It had
an entry into the garden.

Skye was thrilled to see her two servants so well provided for.
She could not thank Dame Cecily enough, but the Englishwoman
brushed her gratitude aside, her blue eyes twinkling. “No need,
child. What are friends for, may I ask?” And she then led Skye back
to the main house and upstairs. Skye’s apartments took up the southwest comer of the second floor. The sitting room had a large gray
stone fireplace with a carved mantel. The two large windows, dia-
mond-shaped and lead-paned, were hung with deep-blue velvet draperies.

A deep bay window looked south over a rose garden, now in
late bloom. The wide, polished oak floorboards were laid with thick
red-and-blue Turkey carpets.

At the far end of the room on either side of the fireplace were
arched and paneled doors, both of which led to the bedchamber.
Here were windows facing both south and west, which made the
room sunny and bright all year long, particularly in the winter. The
fireplace here, which backed up to the one in the sitting room, had
a pretty tiled border. The draperies here were of rose Velvet and
matched the bed hangings and bedspread. Here again was a fine
Turkey carpet, this one in blues and golds.

Off the bedchamber was a small dressing room. The furniture
everywhere was of fine carved oak. There were bowls of fresh
flowers in all three rooms. Skye was sure she would be happy here.

Dame Cecily drew forward an apple-cheeked young girl. “This
is Daisy, my dear, I’ve chosen her to look after you.”

The girl smiled a friendly, gap-toothed smile, and bobbed Skye
a curtsey. “I’m glad to serve you, mum.”

Skye smiled back. “Thank you, Daisy. I’ve been at sea for several
weeks now, and more than anything I long for a bath. Could that
be arranged?”

“Yes, mum! Let me get your boots off, and while you rest a bit
I’ll see to setting up the bam.”

Dame Cecily smiled approvingly. “I leave you in good hands,
Skye. Daisy will show you to the hall in time for dinner.”

Less than an hour later Skye luxuriated in a hot tub set before
her bedroom fireplace. A pretty curved screen had been drawn about
the bathing area. The oak tub was deep, and she sank gratefully into
the warmth, feeling the weeks at sea ease away. The air was fragrant
with the scent of damask rose soap. Daisy moved quietly around the
room, unpacking Skye’s trunks, setting out fresh clothes. Skye had
been amazed to find in her cabin aboard the Mermaid two trunks
filled with the latest English fashions. Robbie had laughed, saying,
”Algiers is an international port. One can find anything in Algiers.”

Daisy came behind the screen and, chatting cheerfully, picked
up the soap and began to wash Skye’s hair. “Ah now, mum, we’ll soon have your crowning glory free of that sticky sea salt. Lord!
What a fine color it is!” She scrubbed the dark thick mass, working
up a good lather, then rinsed it free and pinned the damp curls on
top of Skye’s head.

Skye stepped from the tub and Daisy wrapped her in a warm
towel. Once dried, she stood before the pier glass examining her
figure. Her breasts were certainly fuller than before, and she was
beginning to notice a slight rounding of her belly. Khalid’s child.
What would he look like? Would he have his father’s dark hair and
golden eyes? Oh, Khalid, I miss you so!

Silently she stepped into her undergarments and let the little maid
slip a dark-blue silk gown over her. It was a simple but elegant
gown, befitting her station as a wealthy merchant’s widow. The only
jewelry she wore were the rings given her by Khalid, a sapphire and
her gold wedding band. Her hair was brushed dry, carefully plaited,
and then wound about her head in a crown effect. Upon it she wore
a soft white lawn cap.

The household was small, consisting only of Skye and Robert
and Cecily Small, so the evening meal was a simple one. Jean and
Marie preferred to remain in their cottage. Skye couldn’t blame
them, for this was the first time in their married lives that they would
actually be alone. How she envied them! She shook herself. Khalid
el Bey was dead, and she would have to go on with her life.

Robert Small had created an identity for her mat would satisfy
curiosities. She would admit to being Irish-born, and the absence
of a maiden name and past would be explained in this fashion: She
had been brought as a child to a small French Christian convent in
Algiers by a sea captain who claimed that her parents, passengers
on his ship, had died on board. Since they had paid for their passage
in advance, in gold, the sea captain did not know their names. The
child, who seemed to be about five, and who called herself Skye,
was raised by nuns in the Algiers convent. When the young orphan
was sixteen she had been seen by Senor Goya del Fuentes while
praying in the church. He had applied to the nuns for her hand, and
his suit had been accepted. He had been a wealthy merchant and a
respected man. When he had died suddenly, the young widow could
not bear to remain in Algiers. Since her late husband owned a house
in London, she decided to settle in England. Robert Small, as her
late husband’s partner, had taken the lady under his protection.