Read Online Beloved Castaway by Kathleen Y'Barbo - Free Book Online Page B

 
    Just enough room had been left to insert a small traveling case, the sort generally used to hold personal and toilet items but now used to hold gold pieces, before administering the lock that would prevent theft. An identical case had been left inside the bedchamber so it would appear that Isabelle had brought a new set of personal items to the house in anticipation of tomorrow’s assignation.  
    The proper case, identified with a wax seal on its underside, had gone into the trunk in the designated spot. As a final insurance against theft, the trunk had been locked and sealed with the same wax used to mark the case. Evidence of the broken seal showed on the lock now lying in pieces at the edge of the pile of luggage. This meant the trunk had not been opened since it left Isabelle’s sight.  
    At sunset, Emilie’s messenger must have arrived to load the trunk onto the cart and deliver it to the dock. Obviously all these things had happened just as planned, for the luggage now stood before her, and the case sat in her hands. Surely the captain could prove nothing to support his assertion that he had not yet received payment for passage from her.  
    Once she showed him the proof, as evidenced by the red wax mark on the bottom of the box she now held, Captain Carter would most certainly have to apologize and release her. To that end, she explained the course of the afternoon’s events, ending with the promise that the red wax seal on the underside of the case would prove beyond a doubt the story she told was true.
    Through it all, Captain Carter listened impassively. Finally, at her conclusion, he nodded. “Show me this proof, mademoiselle,” he said, “and perhaps I will believe.”
    Slowly Isabelle turned the case over and stared in horror. No mark showed on its surface.
    It was the wrong trunk.

Chapter 8

    T   he captain regarded Isabelle curiously. “Have you some concern with the case, Mademoiselle Gayarre? Perhaps you’d prefer an-other of these.” He gestured in the direction of the spilled trunks. “But I assure you each has been searched with equal care.”
    Isabelle stared at the item in her hands, willing the crimson mark to appear, begging for time to fall backward and resume anew. Perhaps then she could form some sensible answer.  
    “But, I don’t understand, I—”
    A rip of thunder tore through the cabin, followed in short order by the flash of lightning. Outside, the squall had begun to blow in earnest; inside, the situation looked just as stormy.  
    The Lord hath his way. . .in the storm, and the clouds are the dust of his feet.
    Silently she prayed for the Creator to lead her to the solution, to give her knowledge to solve this current dilemma. Then, realization dawned.
    To her knowledge only three keys existed to the house on Burgundy Street. The first was in the hands of her sister, Emilie; Isabelle carried the second; and the third belonged to. . .  
    Isabelle allowed the trunk to fall to the floor, losing the splintering sound of it breaking as another peal of thunder echoed in the chamber. The captain added a string of curses, blending the noise of the storm outside with the one brewing inside.
    “Mama Dell,” she whispered when the captain finally fell silent. “She’s swindled us both. Seek your information there.”  
    “You speak nonsense,” he announced. “Be plain with your answer, or say nothing more.”
    Isabelle lifted her gaze to meet his. “The woman Delilah has your answers.”
    Captain Carter seemed to consider her statement, leaving Isabelle to wonder whether he would take any action at all. Just when she’d given up hope, he turned and stalked to the edge of the dark passage.
    “Harrigan,” he shouted into the blackness.  
    When the elderly sailor arrived, the captain gave him instructions and sent him on his way. Slowly rotating to face her, the captain wore an expression that offered nothing of his thoughts.  
    His eyes narrowed. “If this is yet