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This was news to Mac. He did not mind participating in the venture and directing the building of the houses and farming of the lands, but he did not intend to remain indefinitely. He had other things that required his attention. His father could not remain in the Marshalsea forever. Indeed, he could hardly leave his father there for the rest of the summer. “Everything should be in order well before that day, sir.”
“But if it’s not, I’m counting on you, MacKenzie.” He lowered his voice, though no one was nearby to listen in on their conversation. The raucous laughter of guests playing spillikins could still be heard down the corridor. “Charles is a bright lad, of course, but he doesn’t have a managing hand. I’m not blind to the way my Amabel runs this estate and all which that entails. But she won’t remain here for much longer, and I need you to teach Charles how to take over in her place.”
Mac’s body went still, but his mind was assaulted with images of Mabel doing precisely that: managing the house, the family, the guests. She was incredible. He was glad her father noticed. But… “If she is not planning to remain here much longer, where is Mabel planning to go?”
“I have yet to finalize the union, so I trust you to keep this to yourself,” Captain Sheffield said with a narrowed eye.
“Of course, sir.”
“Wright has offered for her. He plans to take her to his estate in Warwickshire at the end of the summer.”
The ground felt as though it had fallen away and swept Mac with it. His breath suspended, he struggled to make sense of what his captain had just said. He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. “And Mabel, she is amenable to this scheme?”
“She needs more time, but I think she’ll be satisfied with it in the end.” Captain Sheffield chuckled. “You should have seen her face when I initially proposed the idea.”
“I can well imagine it.”
“But she has softened toward Wright, do you not agree?”
Arguments and displeasure butted against his lips, struggling to free themselves, but better sense prevailed. “I have not noticed.”
Captain Sheffield nodded. “I suppose you wouldn’t have. She is a proud girl, my Amabel. I think she will make Wright a good wife. And, to be frank, it will be better for Charles. If he does wish to wed, his wife won’t be wanting another woman about the place who is used to being mistress.”
“Is your mother not mistress?” Mac asked.
“In name, she is. This will be her house while she yet graces us with her company. But she’s deferred to Amabel these last many years, and that will not stop until a new mistress is in place.” Chair legs scraped against the wooden plank floor as Captain Sheffield stretched his legs. “I have hired two men to help with the foundations. We can break ground tomorrow.”
“I have some business to arrange in the morning, but I will meet you in the vale when it is concluded.”
Captain Sheffield didn’t question Mac; he simply nodded.
“Actually, I was wondering,” Mac hedged. “What have you heard from the prize court?”
A scoff ripped from the older man’s throat. “Nothing. It should have been sorted by now, but it’s that dratted Triumph. They’re reviewing the records detailing how many slaves were freed.”
“But that was only one of the prizes. What of the other ships?”
“It’s coming,” Captain said. “I plan to have it by the end of the month. We haven’t run into any trouble on those, if that is your fear. The courts merely have so many cases to review they haven’t reached ours yet. The war made many men rich. Not that I have any complaints to make on that score,” he added, grinning before his face melted into a grimace. “Have you need of the blunt earlier? Is it your father?”
Mac’s jaw clenched. His father being taken from his estate while his mother collapsed in his arms, tears running down her face, flashed through his mind. He could have handled the humiliation alone. His father was a reckless fool who ran up too many gambling debts that not even the sale of his family estate could cover. But his mother?
She hadn’t deserved any of it.
She deserved to be cared for in a home she would not fear losing, with servants who respected her, free of creditors banging on the door, waiting on the doorstep for hours until Father returned home. Mac could give her that comfort and peace…but not if he wanted to free his father. Mac was not the captain of a ship. He had only been a lieutenant. His portion of the prizes would only cover one of his needs. His father’s freedom, or an estate.
Captain Sheffield cleared his throat. “If it’s just money, I can—”
“No,” Mac said, shaking his head. “I can wait. My father can wait. He’s safe in the Marshalsea, at least.”
Captain nodded. “Very good. And you must know I plan to pay you for your services here.”
“I am not in the market for charity, Captain, and neither do I need it.” He swallowed against the discomfort such a lie procured. He did need the money—or he would, at least, if the wretched prize courts didn’t come to a satisfying conclusion soon.
“Of course not. But ’tis honest work you’ll be doing, and honestly you’ll come by your earnings.” He stood. “We can discuss the parameters of the arrangement tomorrow. I’d best be off to bed now.”
Mac followed suit, watching the captain walk away while the choice rumbled about his mind as if it had not yet been made. But even if he convinced himself it was proper to set up a home for his mother, she would never abide such a scheme. She had a blinding love for Mac’s father that he would never understand. Her goodness was unparalleled.
No, that was untrue. He could think of another woman with such kindness in her heart, and she was walking ahead of Mac right now.
