Read Online Hot Winds From Bombay by Becky Lee Weyrich - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Becky Lee Weyrich
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Then battle it will be!”
By the time she reached the hallway, Persia was ready. She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and headed for the parlor.
“Not this time, sister dear!”
Chapter Five
Persia ran full tilt into Fletcher in the hallway, almost upsetting the tea tray in his hands and definitely ruffling his usually stilted and correct bearing.
Fletcher, so named because he claimed his father was the leader of the Bounty mutineers, did carry himself with a first mate’s dignity. But as to whether the poor, abandoned child Persia’s father had rescued from a sinking boat off Pitcairn Island back in 1810 was Fletcher Christian’s son or came from the seed of any of the other eight mutineers could never be proved. The brownskinned boy, once he was taken on board Captain Whiddington’s ship, attached himself to the man like a leech. He begged not to be put ashore at Pitcairn or any of the other Oeno islands along the South Pacific shipping route between Panama and New Zealand. Thus, he became Asa Whiddington’s cabin boy and later his faithful retainer. His age was somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty, although no one, including Fletcher himself, could be certain.
“Please to pardon me, Miss Persia.” The well-trained servant, collecting himself immediately, took full blame for the collision even though they both knew she was at fault.
“Fletcher, didn’t Mother tell you to remain in the parlor with my sister and Mr. Hazzard?”
“I was exactly there, Miss Persia, just as the mistress instructed, until Miss Europa directed me down to the kitchen to bring up tea and cakes for herself and the gentleman.”
Persia bit the inside of her lower lip and her eyes narrowed in annoyance. So, Europa had connived to get Zack alone. She might have guessed!
“I’ve just taken them a tray, Fletcher. You may carry all that back to the kitchen.”
“But Miss Persia, do you not think someone had better go in there? It is hardly proper for the young mistress and that strange man—brave though he is—to be left all alone.”
“It most certainly isn’t, Fletcher. You should have considered that before you went to the kitchen. But I’ll go in now and see that they’re properly chaperoned. You can count on it!”
She whirled away and hurried through the door to the sitting room. But she didn’t interrupt anything this time, even though it was evident from the frown marring her sister’s lovely face that Europa wished she had.
“Do come over here closer, Zack,” Persia heard Europa say. “Why, you’re miles away!”
Zack’s big frame was perched in an ungainly manner on the very edge of a dainty, brocade-covered ladies’ chair, his cake plate balanced precariously on one knee while he tried to manage the fragile china cup and saucer and a silver spoon with hands more used to tin plates and grog mugs.
He looked up when Persia came in. She could almost swear she detected a hint of relief flicker in his brown eyes when he saw her.
“Persia darling, you’re back.” Europa spoke the words with less than delight in her tone.
“Back to stay!” Persia answered, bestowing a triumphant smile on her sister.
“That won’t be necessary, dear.” Europa’s “dear” dripped contempt from d to r. “I’m sure you must be exhausted after exerting yourself so athletically on the ice this evening. Why don’t you just run along to bed now? I’m completely recovered and perfectly capable of entertaining our guest.”
“Oh, I’m sure you are, Europa. But while I was out of the room for a few minutes I did some thinking.”
“Thinking?” The tone suggested that Persia hadn’t wits enough for such strenuous mental activity. “Whatever about, little sister?”
“About dogs… one in particular, a black-and-white puppy.”
Zack was sipping his tea slowly, his head turning from one sister to the other, trying to follow their conversation. But it was obvious that he was not meant to understand
By the time she reached the hallway, Persia was ready. She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and headed for the parlor.
“Not this time, sister dear!”
Chapter Five
Persia ran full tilt into Fletcher in the hallway, almost upsetting the tea tray in his hands and definitely ruffling his usually stilted and correct bearing.
Fletcher, so named because he claimed his father was the leader of the Bounty mutineers, did carry himself with a first mate’s dignity. But as to whether the poor, abandoned child Persia’s father had rescued from a sinking boat off Pitcairn Island back in 1810 was Fletcher Christian’s son or came from the seed of any of the other eight mutineers could never be proved. The brownskinned boy, once he was taken on board Captain Whiddington’s ship, attached himself to the man like a leech. He begged not to be put ashore at Pitcairn or any of the other Oeno islands along the South Pacific shipping route between Panama and New Zealand. Thus, he became Asa Whiddington’s cabin boy and later his faithful retainer. His age was somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty, although no one, including Fletcher himself, could be certain.
“Please to pardon me, Miss Persia.” The well-trained servant, collecting himself immediately, took full blame for the collision even though they both knew she was at fault.
“Fletcher, didn’t Mother tell you to remain in the parlor with my sister and Mr. Hazzard?”
“I was exactly there, Miss Persia, just as the mistress instructed, until Miss Europa directed me down to the kitchen to bring up tea and cakes for herself and the gentleman.”
Persia bit the inside of her lower lip and her eyes narrowed in annoyance. So, Europa had connived to get Zack alone. She might have guessed!
“I’ve just taken them a tray, Fletcher. You may carry all that back to the kitchen.”
“But Miss Persia, do you not think someone had better go in there? It is hardly proper for the young mistress and that strange man—brave though he is—to be left all alone.”
“It most certainly isn’t, Fletcher. You should have considered that before you went to the kitchen. But I’ll go in now and see that they’re properly chaperoned. You can count on it!”
She whirled away and hurried through the door to the sitting room. But she didn’t interrupt anything this time, even though it was evident from the frown marring her sister’s lovely face that Europa wished she had.
“Do come over here closer, Zack,” Persia heard Europa say. “Why, you’re miles away!”
Zack’s big frame was perched in an ungainly manner on the very edge of a dainty, brocade-covered ladies’ chair, his cake plate balanced precariously on one knee while he tried to manage the fragile china cup and saucer and a silver spoon with hands more used to tin plates and grog mugs.
He looked up when Persia came in. She could almost swear she detected a hint of relief flicker in his brown eyes when he saw her.
“Persia darling, you’re back.” Europa spoke the words with less than delight in her tone.
“Back to stay!” Persia answered, bestowing a triumphant smile on her sister.
“That won’t be necessary, dear.” Europa’s “dear” dripped contempt from d to r. “I’m sure you must be exhausted after exerting yourself so athletically on the ice this evening. Why don’t you just run along to bed now? I’m completely recovered and perfectly capable of entertaining our guest.”
“Oh, I’m sure you are, Europa. But while I was out of the room for a few minutes I did some thinking.”
“Thinking?” The tone suggested that Persia hadn’t wits enough for such strenuous mental activity. “Whatever about, little sister?”
“About dogs… one in particular, a black-and-white puppy.”
Zack was sipping his tea slowly, his head turning from one sister to the other, trying to follow their conversation. But it was obvious that he was not meant to understand
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