Pearls of the Past Page 18

  Britt clasped her hand, guiding her to the huge cane chair.

  She looked up at him. Any defiance she may have had at his attitude had left her, and she needed to tightly grip his hand. “I’m not happy doing this. I feel I’m betraying the person I admire and love. And I’m also surprised just how much of his confidences I have remembered.” She eased her hand from his. “There’s not much more I can tell you other than he left here and went to Broome, where he met Tamiko, Gran Tammy.” Corrie took a steadying breath. “Now, am I allowed to ask who carved your Lady Jade and the scrimshaw? The reason I’ve had to air my family’s past?”

  “I’ll show you.”

  Britt walked to the chest of drawers and returned, carefully carrying both special carvings. He handed the lugger to Corrie. “The artist has carved his name on the starboard side.”

  “H.T. Nelson-Haigh,” Corrie read slowly and held her hand out for the scrimshaw. “H.T. N-H. Who is this?”

  “Before I answer that can I ask you what is carved on the back of your Da’s?”

  “Of course. It’s Tom Nelson on the pearling lugger, and T.N. on the oyster shell.” She looked back to what she held. “These carvings are identical to Da’s, even to the pennant on the mast with double ‘H’. But they have been done by different men.” Corrie lifted her face to Britt.

  “But have they been done by a different man? I think you had better read this. It’s my great-great-grandfather’s diary. It was one of those that was locked, but when it fell from the chest to the floor the lock was broken.” He offered her the blue volume he had been engrossed in.

  “I couldn’t read that,” Corrie protested and pulled back. “That would be intruding. There must be things in there that are extremely private. Why else would it be locked? A stranger shouldn’t read it.”

  “Well, I’m not a stranger, and thank God I have read it!”

  Corrie shivered, making her wrap her arms around herself.

  “You shivered, you have that feeling again. The one you had about the chest. You had every right to feel apprehensive.”

  Her eyes flew to his. “Don’t! You’re frightening me, Britt.”

  “Here.” He offered her the blue volume again. “I’ve marked the pages for you to read.”

  Corrie pulled further back, shaking her head.

  “Read it, Corrie,” he insisted. She accepted the book from his hands. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

  “No, don’t go,” she pleaded. Unbidden, the need to have him close became absolute. He crouched beside her. Now she could settle further into the cane chair, the musty pages covered with copperplate handwriting before her. “This is in a language I don’t understand.”

  “It’s Dutch, but the later English sections tell much the same story.” He reached across the pages to let his finger follow the foreign text. “This says, Pieter Andre Hendricks, born 1869, Rotterdam, deserted his ship with Henry Thomas Nelson-Haigh from Rolvenden, Kent, in 1890 to find their fortune in gold on Tern Island. They used the gold from their mine, ‘HH’, to form a pearling business, Haigh Hendricks, hence the pennant with double HH. Now you can read the rest. Apparently, my great-great-grandfather became more fluent in English.” He carefully turned two pages. “Second paragraph on.”

  For long minutes all was quiet, then Corrie’s head snapped up. “Pieter seduced his best friend’s fiancée?” she said incredulously.

  “An event he sorely regretted. Read on. No friendship is worth losing over a woman, a seventeen-year-old, spoilt school miss, is how he puts it.”

  A hand of deathly cold squeezed Corrie’s heart. It was more than apparent Britt too regretted his passionate taking of her, and she wanted to cry out but I’m not seventeen. Her eyes focused for some minutes on the last words she had read before she felt she could continue. She began to read on as each sentence revealed more of the inner thoughts of Britt’s ancestor, and his friendship with Henry Nelson-Haigh.

  “Oh, heavens!” left her mouth as the sloping scrawl brought to life the brutal fistfight over the seduction of Selena. Of Pieter’s accidental tripping, falling down a small precipice to the rocks below, bleeding with head injuries from which he was not expected to live. When he regained consciousness after five days, he learned Henry had carried him to receive help. He had waited for Henry to visit only to be told in broken English, by the Japanese nurses who ran the infirmary, his friend had gone.

  Pieter thought they meant Henry was away working at one of their pearling bases, which meant he wouldn’t return for several weeks. No one visited, and then on the day before he was to be released from the hospital Selena Downing’s father stormed into his room to announce that he, Pieter Andre Hendricks, would be marrying his daughter in a civil wedding that same night.

  Henry Haigh never returned. Pieter discovered Henry had taken all the ready cash, a bag of gold, and a bag of pearls, deserting the company of Haigh Hendricks. There was no forgiveness in Pieter when his hand had printed BASTARD.

  “Could all this be true?” she asked. Britt’s frown told her it was a ridiculous question. “It must be,” Corrie concluded softly. Placing the journal aside, she stood up. Wrapping her arms around herself, her head bowed, she walked to the edge of the balcony. “He thought he’d killed his best friend. The poor, poor man!”

  “You have no sympathy for Pieter being robbed?”

  She spun around. “None! He betrayed his friend in the worst possible way. Only you would put the loss of wealth above all else.”

  “He was a thief,” Britt said in a cold, calm voice.

  Corrie’s anger rose. “That could be my great-great-grandfather you’re calling a thief, Mr. Hendricks. Yours was a thief too—the worst kind!”

  “So you’re ready to admit there could be a connection. Now, if you’re over your indignation, I would suggest you read on—you may well consider you have more cause for anger against me.”

  “I don’t want to, thank you.”

  “Then I shall tell you the finale, and you will listen. Andre Pieter, my great-grandfather, was born and Selena died the following day. Pieter had already changed the name of the company from Haigh Hendricks to Arafura Enterprises, claiming full ownership.”

  “And I hoped it brought him untold joy! Henry could have left him to die on those rocks, pretended he had never been with him, but he carried him to the infirmary, as any true friend would. And because he took what he probably believed was his share of the company, he bore the label of thief. And this is the only thanks he gets for saving your ancestor?”

  Ignoring her emotional plea, he asked, “Corrie, have you considered there could be legal grounds here?”

  “Legal grounds! Because the company’s name was changed? How can you ask such a thing? I want nothing to do with any of it. There has been enough heartache caused by greed in one guise or the other. So much sorrow, and all so futile. I think you should put all those diaries in the chest and do as you said you would earlier—bury them at sea.”

  “Don’t you think your Da has a right to know all this?”

  “There is nothing to prove Henry Nelson-Haigh has any connection with us. It is all supposition, and I won’t have Da upset by wild assumptions.”

  Suddenly Britt’s voice rose. “Just how much more proof do you need? Hell, Corrie, you are taking the art of ignoring the facts into the realms of ridiculousness. There are other facts. There’s also another diary and a Bible—”

  “No! And don’t you dare tell any of this to Rusie. She’s so impulsive she’ll have everyone upset, and all because of the irrational scribblings of a man who thought he’d been swindled.”

  A hiss of impatience left Britt. “Irrational scribblings! Ask your Da if he has his father’s diary.”

  “He hasn’t. He said his father refused to speak of his younger years, other than the few facts I have given you, and that he learned to carve objects when he was at sea. And none of this has anything to do with us, I tell you. Nothing! Now, I would like to leave.”
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  She bent to lift the crystal oyster, also picking up the small, cream, lustrous sphere, letting it roll in the palm of her hand.

  “No wonder they’re called tears of the moon. That chest has certainly told of many tears. If you don’t mind, to save you any inconvenience, I’d much rather have this unworthy, original pearl than your expensive one.”

  He ignored the slight about the pearl. “So you’re walking away from all this? Where’s your sense of loyalty to your family I’ve been privileged to?”

  “That’s not fair!”

  “You don’t know just how damned fair I’m trying to be!” His hand raked back over his cropped waves in agitation. “You asked why I was acting like this when we had shared such beautiful intimacy?”

  Completely at the mercy of the vivid memories his words evoked, forgetting the business Britt felt she should be privy to, Corrie asked softly, “Was it beautiful?”

  “Never to be forgotten. But I’m keeping my distance, trying so hard to give you time to take in all that has been uncovered, without any influence from me.”

  “But the contents of those diaries have nothing to do with my family. We want nothing to do with any of it.”

  “They do! Your Da, your father and uncle, even you and Russella are all part of what I found hidden away here. And you intend making this decision for everyone? Without consultation? That arrogant statement belittles you, Corrie. You have no right to do this. You are all legally involved whether you like it or not. Now come back here and sit down, there’s much more you have to know.”

  Without further questioning, Corrie found herself obeying the gravity of his words. As she lowered herself slowly into the huge cane chair, her gaze glued to his serious face, he continued.

  “I gave you my great-great-grandfather Pieter’s diary to read first, so you would understand the circumstances of why his friendship with Henry Thomas Nelson-Haigh ended. To prepare you.”

  A terrible shiver scoured Corrie’s whole body, and she sank back into the chair from further disturbing information he seemed set on her knowing. If only he would come to her, hold her hand again to reassure her the incredible dose of apprehension she was experiencing at this moment wasn’t warranted. But he didn’t do that. He’d said he didn’t want to influence her because of his emotional involvement with her.

  Still, she found herself asking in a small voice, “This secret—for it is one, isn’t it?—is it so terrible?”

  He frowned deeply as he lowered himself to a sturdy, carved stool the other side of the coffee table. “Terrible? A transgression that has been concealed for over a hundred years to one of the parties involved...it may seem so. It certainly will have its consequences. It seems I’ve been elected to play devil’s advocate, and to my own detriment.” His usually so strong shoulders slumped, and his head lowered to look at the floor between his feet.

  Her heart squeezed in anguish as she watched his distress. “I don’t understand. Your own detriment? What do you mean? Surely it can be sorted out, whatever it...is...” Her voice began to fade, for she had no idea what this thing could be that was of such torment to Britt.

  His green eyes looked up to claim her, full of hunger yet full of anger as well. “You are the best thing that will ever happen to me, Corrie. A dream come true, a dream that I hope to hell won’t fade when this mess is eventually sorted out,” he said, his voice tight and deep.

  He rose to his feet and pointed to the thick Bible on the coffee table.

  “The Bible. When it fell to the floor from the chest, the padded cover broke loose from its decayed binding to give up its secret. The corner of a tissue-thin piece of paper revealed itself. It was a contract, a business contract drawn up between Pieter and Henry, witnessed by a Captain Carlyle of HMS Celtic Son, the twelfth of May, 1890, all perfectly legal, registering their partnership.”

  “A contract? I understand about it being legal in those days, having been signed by a ship’s captain, but you surely don’t mean...”

  In an instant Britt was crouched in front of Corrie, taking her hands in his. “I mean that your Da, your family, are partners in Arafura Enterprises.” He looked unflinchingly at her, and when she didn’t reply to his astounding piece of news, he reiterated more firmly, “Thomas Henry Nelson owns half of the company I thought was mine.”

  “And this concerns you?”

  Britt’s frown deepened. “Is that all you can say?” His grip tightened. “Of course it concerns me. How do I know what your precious Da will do with his share? Probably sell it off to the highest bidder, only too happy to get free of the Hendricks clan forever, especially when he reads Katharine’s diary.”

  “There’s another diary? But this contract...there is no concrete proof to say my Da is the grandson of this Henry Nelson-Haigh.”

  Britt erupted to his feet. “For God’s sake, Corrie, of course he is!” The silence after this outburst was deafening, and lengthy. Britt’s hands linked behind his neck, his gaze on the ceiling.

  Corrie bit her bottom lip, trying to resist the thoughts crowding in on her that this situation would, as she saw it, change her world. And her relationship with Britt—if it could be called that.

  After only one unforgettable afternoon together, would it end now? Would he feel... No, he had said she was the best thing... He said he hoped the dream wouldn’t fade. She wouldn’t let it fade, couldn’t let it fade, not when she loved him the way she did. She looked up at him, and in answer, he lowered his arms and turned fully to face her.

  “Your Da, he has to be told. You’re close to him, Corrie, so would it be better coming from you or would you like me to explain?”

  “Could we do it together?” She watched Britt’s chest swell as he drew in a steadying breath. He was going to say no. Corrie held her breath.

  His voice was gruff with emotion as the word, “Yes,” was released and his arms opened. Corrie, flinging herself from the chair, filled the safe haven waiting for her. They clung together.

  “I won’t let our dream fade, do you hear, I won’t!” she almost shouted, and Britt’s ravenous mouth slamming against hers told her he also had every intention of keeping it intact. “Why didn’t the silly man destroy that stupid contract?” she mumbled against his throat.

  “The blood, sweat, and tears they both put into their venture made it hard to forget their friendship. Can you imagine the conditions they worked under? They are both to be admired. Maybe Pieter hoped Henry would return and all would be forgiven.”

  “But poor Henry thought he’d killed Pieter, his best friend, so he couldn’t return. It’s all so sad.” She buried her head into the wide chest.

  “God, I love you.” His lips gently touched the top of her hair, then he tenderly pulled the pins from the restraining French chignon. “That’s better,” he said, the words muffled in the heavy fall of hair. “We have a lot to be grateful for, you know. Because of Henry and Pieter we have found each other. Our lives have been entwined from the time they deserted their ship to find gold and set the wheels in motion that I would find my own personal treasure. The feelings we’ve shared of déjà vu, they seemed to have fulfilled their destiny.”

  Corrie smiled up at him with agreement. Both turned at the sound of a loud knock before the doorknob rattled. Britt slowly released Corrie from his arms. But before he turned away his mouth covered hers, his tongue tasting her deeply and briefly.

  He unlocked the door to Wing Lee and a long outburst of Chinese. “Dinner in ten minutes, fine. I’ll tell Miss Nelson and tell Matt I want him and Russella at the table.”

  Closing the door, Britt strode back to where he had left Corrie standing.

  Swinging her up in his arms, he carried her to his bed. Leaning over her, he asked, “Do I tell Wing Lee that Miss Nelson won’t be occupying her room tonight, or any other night?”

  Corrie shook her head purposefully, not yet ready to advertise to all, her feelings for Britt.

  “That’s okay, I understand.” He grinned
down at her. “You see, that story I concocted about being mad about you, couldn’t live without you, wasn’t so ludicrous after all, was it?”

  Without giving her time to respond, he took her lips with his and Corrie was lost in the magic he wove.

  “Now, when do we leave for Sydney? Would you rather wait for your week’s holiday to finish? But I’ll tell you now—if you stay, every minute will be spent with me, probably on Lady B, away from all interruptions. Stay, Corrie.”

  “Yes. But what do I tell Russella and Matt?”

  “Leave that to me.”

  * * * *

  Over dinner, Britt, in his usual direct manner, averted further questions and dealt with shocked, open mouths after his announcement he would be going south with them.

  Nothing more was said of the words of marriage that had passed between them. Had he forgotten in the aftermath of their shared passion? She wouldn’t have been surprised, for it all seemed rather unreal that she had given herself, without restraint, to this man. Was it any wonder that Corrie’s face heated with embarrassment when Rusie burst into her room the next morning, exclaiming she was surprised she wasn’t sharing Britt’s room.

  As Britt had said, the two of them spent each day on the Lady B. Sailing to the special cove they had first visited, the mornings spent snorkeling, the afternoons spent in each other’s arms, reveling in the ecstasy that took them to dizzying heights.

  On their last day together Corrie took the opportunity, as they lay replete in Britt’s cabin, to ask about the painted ceiling above them.

  “That’s Vic’s handiwork. He’s quite artistic. He often designs our pearl jewelry. I contributed the black line marking our voyage—a definite sign of Van Gogh genius in that.” His laugh was no more than a low rumble in his chest where her head rested.

  “I was pleased you accepted Vic and Jacqui’s invitation to have dinner with them last night.”

  He lifted his head to look down at her. “Did you think I would refuse? You are remembering my previous outburst. Vic is my dearest friend, Corrie. I only want to see him happy and settled.”