A Pirate's Love

  A Pirate’s Love

  By Johanna Lindsey

  Chapter 1

  BETTINA Verlaine was more than apprehensive when she entered the sun-filled drawing room that morning, and stood before her mother and father. It wasn't often that Andree Verlaine summoned her so early, and never before had he warned her to be present a day ahead. She knew that he must have something very important to tell her, something that would affect her life. She'd had the whole night to worry about it, but deep inside of her she knew what it would be. She was nineteen and marriageable.

  She had expected to be married off three years ago, when she had come home from the convent school. Most girls from wealthy families were betrothed when they were only children, and married at the young age of fourteen or fifteen, as Bettina's mother had been. Many suitors had come to call on Bettina's father, though she had not been allowed to see them. But her father would consider none of the young men who sought her, for none was rich enough to suit him.

  Bettina was sure that her future had now been de­cided. Soon she would be told the name of the man she would marry.

  Andree Verlaine was seated at his desk and hadn't bothered to look up when Bettina entered the room. Could her father be deliberately putting off the task of telling her his decision? Perhaps he was feeling a trifle guilty about it now. But then, how could he? He was the same man who had sent her to the convent, saying she had become too troublesome to handle. She had spent most of her nineteen years away from home, and now she would be sent away again, forever.

  Jossel Verlaine looked at her daughter anxiously. She had tried desperately to, dissuade Andree" from choosing Bettina's husband and thought she had suc­ceeded until last night, when Andree" had offhandedly informed her of his decision. Bettina wasn't like most girls; she was too spirited and too beautiful to be just given away. She might have chosen a good husband for herself, if only Andree" had been reasonable. But no, Andree had to find a wealthy and titled husband for his daughter, and didn't care if Bettina found him repulsive or not.

  Jossel sat before the open doors that led onto the terrace, as she did every morning, but today she hadn't been able to take one stitch in the tapestry before her. She couldn't stop thinking of the fate that awaited her daughter.

  "Well, Bettina, this will not take long," Andre

  Ver­laine finally said brusquely.

  But he didn't alarm Bettina. Her father was never one to show tenderness or love for her, or for her mother, either. He treated them both as he treated the servants. Andree" Verlaine was a cold man, obsessed only with increasing his wealth. And this consumed nearly all his time and thoughts, leaving little for his family.

  "Why don't you sit down, ma chirie," Jossel said tenderly, before her husband had a chance to continue.

  Bettina knew that her mother loved her. But she refused to sit, not wanting to appear relaxed and make it easier for her father. Bettina was feeling rebellious, and knew she had no right to be, for this was the way of things in the year

  . It had been the same for centuries, and would probably never change. She just wished that her mother had not talked so much about falling in love and choosing her own husband.

  Manage de convenance was what daughters were for, at least daughters of wealthy parents. Besides, no eligible men lived in their small hometown of Ar-gentan, only peasants and petty tradesmen. If Bettina had chanced to fall in love, her father would never have consented, and she had been kept isolated from young men of her own class.

  "I have arranged for your marriage to Comte Pierre de Lambert," And continued. "It will take place soon after the beginning of the new year."

  Bettina flashed her dark-green eyes at him angrily, one last show of defiance to let him know what she thought about his crude announcement; then she bowed her head meekly as a good, obedient daughter was ex­pected to do.

  "Yes, Papa," Bettina said quietly, amazed at her own self-control.

  "You will leave in a month. This will not give you much time to make your trousseau, so I will hire dress­makers to help you. Comte de Lambert resides on Saint Martin, an island in the Caribbean, so you will travel by ship. Unfortunately, it will be a long and tedious voyage. Madeleine, your old nurse, will go with you as chaperone and companion."

  "Why must I go so far away?" Bettina exploded. "Surely there must be someone here in France I could marry."

  "By the Blessed Virgin!" Andre shouted, his other­wise milky complexion turning quite red. He stood up and glared at his wife. "I sent her to that convent to learn obedience! But all those years were wasted, I can see. She still questions my authority."

  "If you would only take her wishes into consider­ation, Andre

  . Is that too much to ask?" Jossel ventured.

  "Her wishes are of no concern, madame," said Andree*. "And I will not stand for any more of your opposition. The betrothal has been arranged and cannot be undone. Bettina will marry Comte Pierre de Lambert. I pray God he can curb her defiance where I have failed!"

  Bettina bristled. Did her father always have to talk as if she were not even present, as if she were of no con­sequence at all? She loved her father, but sometimes— in fact, most times—he made her so mad she could scream.

  "May I be excused now, Papa?" she asked.

  "Yes, yes," he replied irritably. "You have been told all that you need to know."

  Bettina hurried from the drawing room, wanting to laugh, for what had she actually been told? She knew the man's name, where he lived, and that she would marry him after the new year arrived, that was all. Well, at least her father hadn't married her off fresh out of the convent. No, it had taken him three years to find her a husband, a man who could make it possible for him to increase his own wealth.

  Bettina was full of conflicting emotions as she quickly ran up the stairs. She was angry with her father for sending her to a man who lived so far away. She would be in a new land, a land of strangers, and this terrified her. She wasn't really angry with him for arranging the marriage, for she had expected no less, and she was relieved in a way that it was finally done. She felt deep sorrow that she would be leaving her mother. But to counteract these feelings was a kind of joy—joy that she would not be completely alone on this journey. Madeleine would be with her, dear Maddy, whom she loved as much as she loved her mother.

  Before going to her own room, Bettina stopped at the door next to hers and rapped softly. At the sound of Madeleine's voice, Bettina walked into the room, only a little smaller than her own. She crossed to the window where Madeleine was sitting, and took the chair beside her.

  When Bettina didn't speak, but just stared pensively down at the empty street in front of the house, Made­leine smiled and set aside her needlework.

  "Your papa told you, eh?" she asked softly.

  Bettina turned slowly to the woman who had cared for her when she was a child, who had cared for her mother too, from the day she was born. Madeleine was fifty-five, slightly plump now, but still agile. Her brown hair was half-streaked with gray, a silvery gray that matched her gentle eyes.

  "So you knew," Bettina said passively. "Why didn't you warn me, Maddy?"

  "You also knew, my pet. You have expected this for three years."

  "Yes, but I didn't know I would be sent across the ocean. I don't want to leave France," Bettina said, her anger coming to the surface again. "I will run away!"

  "You will do no such thing, young lady!" Madeleine scolded, shaking a pudgy finger at her. "You will accept this and make the best of it, just as you finally accepted being sent away to school. You should be glad that you will have a fine husband. He will give you many chil­dren, and, God willing, I will be there to see them grow.

  Bettina smiled and leaned back in the chair. Made­leine was r
ight. She would accept this marriage, for there was nothing else she could do. She was past the age of throwing tantrums to get what she wanted. The sisters had taught her to make the best of things.

  Bettina had been a cheerful child until she began to wonder why her father didn't love her. This weighed heavily on her young mind, and she tried desperately to gain her father's love and approval. When she didn't succeed and he still ignored her, she began to be trou­blesome, just to gain his attention. It wasn't enough that she was showered with love by her mother and Madeleine. She had to have her father's love, too. At her young age, she couldn't understand why her father disliked her; she didn't know that he had wanted a son. And a daughter was all he would ever have, for Jossel couldn't have any more children.

  So Bettina developed a temper. She began to throw tantrums, to be defiant and disrespectful. She hated her father when he sent her away to school, and continued with her troublesome ways at the convent. But after a few years she learned to accept her fate.

  She realized that it was her own fault that she had been sent away. The sisters taught her to control her temper. They taught her obedience and patience. When she came home, she no longer resented her father.

  Nothing had changed. Her father was still a stranger to her, but Bettina accepted this, too. She stopped feel­ing sorry for herself and gave up trying to win his approval. She had her mother's love, and she had Maddy. She learned to be grateful for what she did have.

  But sometimes Bettina couldn't help wondering how different she could have been if her father had been a loving man. She might not have developed the madden­ing temper that she had to fight to control. But what did it matter? Only her father could drive her into a rage, and she would be leaving that cold, insensitive man very soon.

  Chapter

  Early in the evening, Jossel Verlaine came to Bettina's bedroom to talk to her daughter privately. She was still upset.

  "I tried, ma cherie. I tried endlessly to dissuade your papa from sending you to that—that man." Jossel spoke nervously, wringing her hands, which she always did when she was disturbed.

  "It's all right, Mama. I was upset at first, but only because I must go so far away. I expected to have my marriage arranged, so the betrothal came as no sur­prise."

  "Well, it came as a surprise to me! Andree has been arranging it for months, but only last night did he think to inform me of it. Once he made his choice, he acted on it. He did not take into consideration that he is sending you to a man you have never met, and also forcing you to cope with a new land and climate at the same time." Jossel usually said what was on her mind, at least to Bettina, but she started to pace the room and seemed quite at a loss for words.

  "Is there something you wish to tell me, Mama?" Bettina ventured.

  "Yes, yes, there is," Jossel answered in heavily ac­cented English.

  Papa and Mama both liked to speak English, since many of Papa's associates were Englishmen. And since Bettina had also learned that crude language at the con­vent, Papa insisted that English be used at all times.

  Jossel was still hesitating, so Bettina tried to break the silence. "I will miss you terribly when I leave next month, Mama. Will I ever see you again?" she asked hopefully.

  "Of course, you will, Bettina. If your new"—she paused, hating to say the word—"new husband does not bring you here for a visit, then I will persuade Andree to go to Saint Martin." Jossel looked at her daugh­ter with deep concern in her dark-green eyes. "Oh, my little Bettina, I am so sorry that your papa has insisted on this betrothal to Comte de Lambert. I wanted you to pick your own husband. If only Andree" had allowed me to take you to Paris, you might have found a man you could love, a worthy man Andree might have approved of. There are so many to choose from in Paris."

  "Comte de Lambert is a worthy man, is he not?" Bettina asked.

  "Yes, but you have never met him, Bettina. You don't know if you will love him or not. You don't know if you will be happy or not. And that is all I want, for you to be happy."

  "But Papa has chosen Comte de Lambert, and he wants me for his wife. He has seen me, hasn't he?"

  "Yes, a year ago. You were in the garden when the comte called on Andree. But Bettina, you are a lovely child, lovely beyond belief. You could have had your choice of husbands, and found a man that you would want to spend your life with. But your papa is too fond of tradition. It would not do but that he choose your husband. It doesn't matter to him if you are happy or not."

  "But that is the way it is, Mama. I did not expect it to be otherwise," Bettina replied, though wondering why it couldn't.

  "You are such a good and trusting daughter, and it grieves me to think that you might spend your life with a man you do not love. It is because of this that I came in here to tell you something, even though it is against my better judgment."

  "What is it, Mama?"

  "You know that Andre was chosen for me by my Papa when I was only fourteen years old. I was, as you are, ready to love my chosen husband and to be a good wife. But after one year of marriage I knew it could never be. After another year, the situation became worse, for Andree wanted a son and I had not yet con­ceived. I was desolate, and I had only Madeleine to confide in and love. But she could not protect me from Andree's furious outbursts.

  "So I began to take long walks and make trips into town, just to seek peace. On one of my walks I met a sailor, an Irishman with fiery red hair and dancing green eyes. His ship was docked on the coast for re­pairs, and he had taken leave to visit his parents, who had left Ireland and were then living in the country near Mortagne. I chanced to meet him when he passed through Argentan. He stayed here instead of going on to Mortagne, and I met him again and again until we became—lovers."

  "Oh, Mama, it sounds so romantic!"

  Jossel smiled, relieved that her daughter was not shocked by her confession. "Yes, it was romantic. Ryan stayed in Argentan for three months, and I met him regularly. Those were the happiest months of my life, and I shall always treasure the memory of them. I loved him with all my heart, and he lives on in you, Bettina, because you came from the love I shared with Ryan. He was your real father."

  "Then Papa—he is my stepfather?"

  "Yes, ma chirie, only your stepfather. I wanted you to know about the happiness I was able to steal those many years ago, the only love that I ever had. I wanted you to know in case you don't love Comte de Lambert, I pray that you will, but if you don't, then I pray that you will find someone you can love, if only for a little while. I want you to be happy, Bettina, and if you should find yourself in a loveless marriage, I don't want you to feel guilty if you should find love elsewhere. I am not saying that you should go out and look for it. But if love should come to you as it did to me, take it while you can and be happy. I only want you to be happy."

  Jossel started crying, and Bettina went to her and embraced her tenderly.

  "Thank you, Mama. Thank you for telling me. I do not feel so afraid of going to Saint Martin now. I will try to make it a good marriage, and I will try to love Comte de Lambert. Who knows, I may not have to try. It may come naturally."

  "Oh, I pray it does, ma cherie."

  Bettina stood back and smiled warmly at her mother. "So I am half-Irish. Does Papa—does Andre know? Is that why he never showed me love?"

  "You must understand, Bettina, that Andree is not a demonstrative man. He believes you are his daughter, but he wanted a son badly. And the doctors said I could have only the one child because there were prob­lems with your birth. He may have resented you be­cause you were not the son he wanted, but in his way he loves you. It is unfortunate that he doesn't show it, and I know he has made you unhappy."

  "I've spent most of my life trying to win Andree's approval, and he is not my real father." Bettina mused. "I sought love from the wrong man."

  "I'm sorry, Bettina. I guess I should have told you the truth when you were little, but I couldn't. It is not an easy thing to admit. But you must continue to call Andree papa
. I was deathly afraid at the time that you might be born with Ryan's flaming red hair. But luckily you have my white-blond hair and my papa's change­able eyes. Of course, those eyes of yours can be a hindrance to you. You cannot hide your feelings with those clear, dark eyes. As they are now, dark blue, I can tell that you are happy."

  "You are teasing me!"

  "No, ma cherie. Even now your eyes are turning dark green." Jossel laughed. "I know it must be un­settling to learn that you can't hide your feelings, but your eyes always show the truth."

  "But why haven't I ever noticed this? I always thought my eyes were blue."

  "Because when you are angry or upset, you would hardly look at yourself in a mirror. You do as your real father did. You pace the floor; you cannot sit still. You inherited many things from Ryan."

  "I've always wondered why I am taller than both you and Andree. Was your Ryan a tall man?"

  "Yes, very tall. He was such a handsome young man! But he had a quick temper and an unrelenting Irish stubbornness, just like you. But do not worry about your eyes, ma cherie. Not many people notice such things, and you can always say your eyes change with the light, as a fire opal does."

  "Why didn't you go away with him, Mama? Why did you stay here and give up your happiness?"

  "Ryan had to go back to his ship, and I could not go aboard with him, especially since I already knew that I was carrying you. Ryan was just a common sailor, though this mattered little to me, but he wanted to make his fortune before he took me away. He promised to come back for me, and I waited many years before I gave up hope. I don't like to think why he didn't come back. I would rather think that he found a new love in another land than that he might be dead."

  Bettina was sad to think that her mother would probably never learn the real reason. "Did he know about me?"

  "Yes. I just wish that he could have seen what a lovely child he sired."

  Later, after Jossel went to bed, Bettina sat before her dressing table looking at herself in the mirror. She wondered why Comte de Lambert had chosen her as his wife. She supposed she was pretty in a way, but she didn't think she was as beautiful as her mother fondly said. She had a nose that curved slightly at the tip, an oval face, but she felt that her forehead was not high enough. Her pale skin was smooth, without a blemish, but her thick flaxen hair was straight, not fashionably curly, and she hated it.