“Four hours. She has to stay three more, in the dark.”
“With no water, I guess.”
Abby looked appalled. “Oh no, the admiral’s orders—” Jessica said something that made Abby’s eyes widen. “I think I agree with you,” Abby whispered, “but he said no one was to speak to her.”
“I won’t say a word,” Jessica said firmly, then went to the public well, withdrew a dipper full of water and carried it to Mrs. Wentworth. The woman was pathetic, her eyes dull, lifeless, her neatly arranged hair scraggling.
The woman looked up in surprise as Jess held the water to her lips.
“Your maid is probably stealing you blind,” Jess said softly. “And I hear Mr. Wentworth is allowing the dogs in the front parlor. And Abigail and Ethan are fighting.”
Mrs. Wentworth’s head came up as far as it could, considering the yoke about her neck. “If she thinks she can come home after the way she embarrassed me, she’d better think again. And I’ll have James’s hide. And that maid—” She broke off, a smile beginning to form on her lips. “Thank you, Jessica,” she whispered. “I don’t deserve your kindness after all the things—”
“Ssssh,” Jess said, smoothing back Mrs. Wentworth’s hair. “You’re my best customer. Shall I bring you a cartload of oysters tomorrow?”
“Yes, and could you get Eleanor to bake me half a dozen of those wonderful oyster loaves of hers? That is, if Sayer doesn’t mind. And I’ll need—” She stopped abruptly. “Oh, Jess, run!”
Behind Jessica, on horseback, appearing suddenly out of an alleyway, as if he wanted to catch evildoers, was the admiral. He held Jessica where she was with his swordtip.
“Who are you?” he roared down at her.
“Jessica Tagg
ert, former captain of the Mary Catherine,” she said loudly.
He pulled the sword up, making her face him. “Ah yes,” he said softly, “the one the Raider wanted. I can see why now.” He dropped his sword. “I gave orders that no one was to speak to this woman.”
“She didn’t say a word,” Mrs. Wentworth declared. “She was just passing.”
The admiral looked from one woman to another, not sure what to believe.
“Mistress Jessica delivers the clams you like so much, sir,” Mrs. Wentworth said, a pleading tone in her voice.
Jessica just glared at the man.
He looked Jess up and down. “You’re too pretty a lady to dress like that. Wear women’s clothes or you’ll find yourself in the stocks.” He smiled. “Or perhaps I shall let my soldiers dress you. Good evening…ladies.” He turned his horse and left them.
“Go!” Mrs. Wentworth cried. “Go, and thank you, Jessica.”
Jessica ran, through the square, past Abigail who was staring at her as if she were half fool, half saint, grabbed her clams on the run and then headed toward the Montgomery house.
The common room was empty. As she was trying to catch her breath, Alex sauntered into the room.
“I saw you running,” he said, concern on his face. “Is everything all right?”
“Has Eleanor gone?”
“One of the kids was sick. Marianna sent her home.”
“Which one?”
“One of the smaller ones.” He shrugged. “Why were you running?”
Quickly, she told him about Mrs. Wentworth and the admiral. “I have to go home. These clams are for tomorrow.”
Alex grabbed her arm before she could leave. “Jess, I wish you’d stay out of the admiral’s way. Did you ever think that maybe the reason the Raider didn’t leave a handbill on your door was because he wanted you to stay out of this?”
She turned on him. “I am sick of your cowardice. Are we sheep that we are to go meekly to the slaughter? We have to fight.”