The Charlotte Series: Book 1: The Pirate's Treasure

chapter 02

"Your son was born healthy. He was beautiful with dark hair and big dark eyes like his father." She paused and smiled.

He didn't speak. He didn't move. Hell's fire, he could scarcely draw a breath and it was deuced impossible to see. He swiped impatiently at his eyes and was startled to realize he wept.

"He was such a good little happy baby. He scarcely ever cried." She paused and studied him cautiously as if to measure his strength to bear the news.

He saw pity in her eyes but there was more. There was fear? Of him? Of what he might do to her? Would she finish? Would she run away? He held his breath and willed her to continue, to stay.

"One morning I could not wake him. He had expired in his sleep." Her voice quivered and fresh tears moistened her cheeks. "The little sahib was gone."

Gone. In one word his world shrank around him until it threatened to crush him. He felt himself curling inward under the weight. NO! He would not let himself give in to his grief. There would be time for sorrow later. He must know. Squaring his shoulders he drew a steadying breath and looked gently at this kind woman.

"Where is he now?" he asked softly.

"Come. I will show you." She picked up her lantern and he followed her to the garden.

Beyond the garden, near the wall in the shade of a tree was a tiny wooden cross. He saw that the weeds were recently cleared away and that tropical flowers lay atop the tiny grave. It was a stark contrast to the rest of the house. Someone who cared was there and recently. He dropped to his knees and stared at the tiny cross.

His thoughts turned back toward the days after he first learned he was to become a father. He was full of joy, of pride, of ...he was so excited he wanted to shout it from the rooftops but Dorthea wept for days. He consulted a midwife who gave him a matronly smile. Women often were very emotional during their time with child and he must be learn to be patient with her. He tried. He really did.

To his mind her extreme dislike of the unborn child bordered on hatred. She despised the prospect of childbirth—of a child—of his child. She filled her days finding ways to be rid of the child as soon as it was born. She planned for hire of wet-nurse, nanny, and governess. She planned boarding schools...

The midwife had warned him there would be strong and fluctuation emotions but he didn't like the way she was behaving at all. He hoped it would pass.

"I fear the little sahib's demise was not an act of God, Sahib. I fear it was Memsahib." Her voice was but a quivering whisper.

She was afraid of him. She shrank away from him, slouching her shoulders and looking down as if she could disappear. Why would she say such a terrible thing? Dorthea was very upset and she certainly hadn't wanted him to leave but to suggest she murdered her own son! He couldn't bear it! No. NO!

"How dare you libel such accusations against my wife!"

The poor woman cringed and she bent her shoulders fully expecting him to strike her. He felt a pang of shame but it was burned away swiftly by his growing anger.

"It is true! I swear it is true upon my life!" she cried as she raised her arm to ward of a blow. "I awoke in the night to check on the little sahib. I saw Memsahib going into the room."

"She is his mother." He realized he spoke in present tense and felt a fresh stab in his chest. "He was a new babe. It is natural that she should desire to check upon him."

His defense was weak sounding to his own ears.

"No Sahib." She said softly. She slowly lowered her arm and stood to look at him when she realized he would not strike her. "I shall never forget that midnight visit, for Memsahib had not set eyes upon the child since she birthed him. "