“As a matter of fact, this is Carolina tobacco. I’m hoping the bales you brought in are similar quality.” He set down the pipe. “They’ll fetch a good price. That’s probably why Cross is contesting your agreement. He doesn’t want to lose his share.”
“Maybe.” But Rourke had a bad feeling about this. “He chose Charles Benjamin for his proctor rather than Mallory.” They both knew that Stephen Mallory, son of the lady who ran the boardinghouse, had greater prestige thanks to his family’s long-standing presence in Key West and his political connections.
Winston nodded. “Keeping it in the family, I understand. The Victory is owned by the late Mrs. Benjamin’s brother.”
Now Rourke knew the source of his foreboding. Benjamin always fought hard in court, but he would never give up when it involved family.
Winston looked him in the eye. “If this goes the way I think and a charge of collusion is leveled, you will need witnesses to corroborate your testimony. Choose the most respected men on your vessel—preferably United States citizens—and ensure they stay in town.”
Rourke’s mouth felt coated in sawdust. His mate was a Bahamian free black. The boatswain was a reformed drunkard. None of his men had the clout to counter the testimonies of Poppinclerk and the Victory’s officers. If Winston was right, Rourke stood to lose his wrecking license.
As soon as Aunt Virginia left for the market with Cook, Elizabeth settled on the shaded front veranda with a book of sonnets. The meeting with the staff had been painful, and she longed to escape to the far shore of the island where no one would tell her what to do. Since going anywhere unescorted was out of the question and Anabelle was busy oiling the furniture, Shakespeare would have to do. Yet she could not bring herself to read. Instead she leaned back on the rocker and closed her eyes with a deep sigh.
“Aunt Virginia isn’t always right.”
Charlie’s voice startled her from near slumber. She looked around until she spotted his wheeled chair in the open parlor window. “I didn’t know you were there.”
His lips curved into a wry grin. “I heard your entire display of tyranny. Nathan couldn’t very well push me back to my room when Aunt V demanded all the servants line up in the dining room.”
“Oh, that.” She sank a bit, embarrassed by the stern words she’d delivered.
He motioned to his wheelchair. “No matter how much I improve my strength, I can’t move this chair by myself.”
“I’m sorry.” Elizabeth hopped up to assist. She should have considered his limitations, but she’d been consumed by her own troubles. In four years, nothing had changed. She needed to apologize. The words rose to her lips but would not come out.
“How would you know?” Charlie said. “Most people never see one of these contraptions, but it does serve its purpose.” He pulled open the lower shutters, effectively turning the window into a door. “I believe I’d like a little fresh air.”
She stepped into the parlor and grasped the handle she’d seen Nathan use the first day. “Do I just push?”
“Slowly. I don’t want to go headfirst down the steps.”
She was surprised by his attempt at humor. During the meals he had attended, he had spoken only to Father and Aunt Virginia. Each snub had decimated her resolve. Yet today he had initiated the conversation. This was her opportunity to set things right between them.
The chair was heavy. She struggled to push it over the threshold between the parlor and veranda. With extra effort, she maneuvered it near her rocking chair. “Is this all right or would you rather I wheel you elsewhere?”
“I would rather go to the harbor, board a ship, and sail the high seas.”
Each word hit with the force of an ax splintering wood. It was her fault that he could do none of those things. He hadn’t been able to play with other boys or go anywhere outside this house. Though she’d felt trapped here, he truly was.
“Charlie, I’m so—so—” She couldn’t finish.
“Stop trying to be like her.”
Elizabeth didn’t have the courage to ask who he meant. Aunt Virginia or Mother? Both were true. “A lady must live up to certain expectations.”
“That sounds like Aunt V. Why do you listen to her? You know things are different in Key West.”
“You don’t understand. Now that Mother is gone, I must take charge of the household.”
He snorted derisively. “Who asked you to?”
Father’s assertion that he and Charlie were doing well popped into her mind, but she could not believe she had overstepped her bounds. “A home needs a woman’s influence.”
He rolled his eyes. “Aunt V again.”
“Perhaps she is right about this. Don’t you miss having Mother around?”
His expression hardened. “You aren’t Mother.”
“I realize that, but I want to become like her.”
“Then stop listening to Aunt V.”
Elizabeth knew he was right. Aunt was nothing like Mother. One carried her authority with grace, the other wielded a sharp tongue and the threat of punishment. But it was difficult to admit failure to a younger brother. “I’m trying.”