“I’ll go,” Alastair said, but Teach pulled away.
“No, you’ve done enough.”
Moving with surprising speed, Alastair stepped in front of Teach. When just a few minutes before he’d seemed defeated, Alastair now shook with purpose. “You’re in no position to go.”
“And you are?” Teach asked, his gaze locked with Alastair’s.
Alastair blanched beneath Teach’s cold words. “Don’t you understand, boy? You cannot let them see how much she means to you. I’ll go and speak with the governor.”
“Then I’m coming with you,” Teach insisted.
“No you’re not. This isn’t about you right now and your need to do something. I know you feel helpless, but we have to make sure Anne comes out of this alive. You stay here and wait for me.”
“But what will you say? I’ve already tried to talk to the governor. The man’s a fool,” Coyle said, his face taut.
“Pelham is behind the poisoning. I’m convinced of it,” Alastair said.
“And if the governor doesn’t believe you?” Teach asked as Alastair headed to the top of the stairs. “What will you do then?”
Pausing, Alastair turned to look at them, his expression grim. “I don’t know. But don’t worry,” he said as Teach raised his hand to protest. “I’ll think of something. After all, I have nothing left to lose.”
CHAPTER 20
Anne
Taking a corner of her apron, Anne dipped it in the stagnant cup of water the jailer had left her. She was the only one occupying a cell in this wing of the fort, a dark and humid place with a single torch illuminating the dank, sweating stone of the bulwarks.
Anne sat on the floor, cleaning around each fingernail with nerveless fingers. She had been locked up for the better part of the day. At one point, she’d tried to read Dampier’s book, but it brought her no comfort. The last time she had looked, her mother’s pocket watch had read half past four in the afternoon.
Through the cell bars, a faint glow appeared down the corridor, accompanied by the clang of irons and swishing skirts. As the light grew, Anne also recognized the sound of heavy breathing. Stealing a glance through her lashes, she saw it was the governor’s wife, accompanied by three men. Two of the men were the slavers Anne had seen at the whipping post. The third one she didn’t recognize. Although he couldn’t have been that old, he was hunched over, and his shoulders appeared frail beneath his long coat.
Bracing herself against the upcoming confrontation, Anne kept her eyes on her task. The footsteps stopped in front of her cell.
“Is this her?” the stranger asked. His breath came in short pants, as if each step was a struggle.
“Aye, it is, Governor.”
Anne dipped her apron once more, her fingers starting to shake, trying to suppress the fear welling up inside her. She had held Beth with her right hand, so of course there was more blood there.
“Not much to look at, is she?” He clicked his tongue in disgust. “Nothing more than a common criminal spitting such vile accusations against my wife.”
So much blood.
“Look at me when I talk to you.”
Anne turned her back to them slightly, continuing the study of her nails.
The bars clanged as if they had been struck by something. Anne jumped but did not look up.
“I said look at me when I’m talking to you. Do you know who I am?”
Anne paused and finally met Governor Webb’s gaze. “I know exactly who you are. You’re the man being poisoned by your wife.”
Mrs. Webb gasped, raising a gloved hand to her mouth. Only Anne saw the act for what it was. The governor put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. Perhaps he was afraid she might swoon. In truth, he could have used his wife’s support, for his eyes were sunken, deep shadows beneath them.
“Please,” Mrs. Webb said, moving her hand on her husband’s chest. “Make her stop! I can’t bear such lies.”
The governor’s face contorted with rage as he leaned closer to the bars, his face demonically lit by the torch. “My wife hasn’t left my side since I took ill. She’s the one who’s been nursing me back to health.”
Anne gave a short laugh. “If you wish to live, I suggest you have someone else drink the tea she brings you.”
For just a fraction of a second, Anne saw doubt in Webb’s expression.
Mrs. Webb stepped forward, no longer cowering at her husband’s side. “Don’t you dare threaten us. You’re the one who’s committed a crime and now you’ve come here, hoping to cast a shadow on my good name. You’re the one covered in blood. Not me.”
Anne couldn’t believe the woman’s audacity. “I saw you. You claimed you needed a poultice for boils. That’s why you asked Beth for the nightshade. And then you killed her when she was no longer useful to you.” Anne’s voice caught.
“Boils?” Governor Webb frowned, glancing down at his wife.
She clutched his arm, shaking her head. “Lies! She continues to tell lies! I’ve never met that woman in my life.” Mrs. Webb rounded on Anne, her limbs shaking. Anne could see the fear in her eyes. “You probably had some petty argument with her and then you stabbed her. Perhaps you want that awful tavern keeper for yourself. He has such a taste for colored girls.”
Anne was on her feet, unwilling to sit still any longer. If she’d had her pistol on her, Mrs. Webb would be on the ground right now, bleeding out. “Her blood is on your hands. Has anyone bothered to check the back of your wardrobe? Or perhaps you’ve already stashed the dress in a fireplace somewhere.”
The color drained from Mrs. Webb’s face. She shook her head, pointing at Anne. “You have the devil in you.”
Governor Webb was silent as he looked between Anne and his wife, his brows drawn together.
“Are you going to let her speak to me like this?” Mrs. Webb demanded. “I told you it was useless coming to see her. Anyone associated with Alastair Flynn is trouble. That man is too powerful by far and needs to be taught a lesson. Who’s in charge of this island? A tavern keeper? Or you?”
Her words had their desired effect. The governor shook himself and snapped his fingers. The two men stepped forward, treacherous smiles curving their cruel faces.
“Bring her,” Governor Webb said, his voice impassive.
“You’ll fetch a good price for her, Governor. We’ll see to that.”