Bertrice Small - Bedazzled

"But I can be a merchant-trader, Mama," he told her. "I've bought a cargo of fine olive oil, and I've sent to my saddle maker in Firenze for a dozen of his best saddles. I intend shipping them on the Royal Charles, and finding a market for them in Istanbul. Then I shall buy something there, perhaps silk, and return to Naples."

"Ian! You are the son of the earl of Bothwell," Cat said. "What can you be thinking that you would go into trade?"

"Aye, I am the youngest son of Francis Stewart-Hepburn, once the earl of Bothwell, cousin to the royal Stuarts, but my father was outlawed, and driven from Scotland. Everything was taken from him. They even tried to take you from him, Mama. There is no title, or estates, to inherit, and if there were, Margaret Douglas's sons would have long ago laid claim to them, for she was his first wife, and her children take precedence over we youngest three, who were born when you were wed to the earl of Glenkirk. Until our father claimed us, we were thought to be Leslies, Mama.

"I am my father's son, Mama. I cannot live my life in idleness and boredom. I cannot return to Scotland, for there is nothing there for me, and I should be considered Bothwell's bastard, and scorned. I need to make a life for myself. I have been astoundingly well educated, and I have spent several years enjoying myself while I played. Now I need to move onward. Youj generous allowance allows me to attempt this venture. I think I shall be good at it. I like the business of business. Perhaps if I make a small success of this, I shall even take a wife at long last. I know that would please you, eh, Mama?"

For a moment she stared at this man who looked so much like his father, with his blue eyes and auburn hair. She wondered what Francis would have thought of his youngest son's desire to go into business. The world was changing, she realized, and those who did not change with it would certainly be doomed to extinction. Francis would have agreed with that sentiment. He, himself, had been a man born ahead of his time. At least their son wanted to make something of himself, and he had some Leslie blood in his veins through her, for Cat's mother had been a Leslie. The Leslies had always been fascinated with trading, and the wealth it brought them. "I'm surprised," she admitted candidly to him, "but if this is what you want, Ian, then I cannot deny you. But make a success of it, damn it! Trade carefully, and be clever, and get your own vessel as soon as you can. That's where the money is, my son. In owning your own ship, and not having to pay someone else to ship your goods."

"Exactly, madame," Thomas Southwood said. "The Royal Charles is mine, which is why I was so anxious to regain her custody."

"Would you consider selling a third share in her, sir?" Cat asked the surprised young man. She turned to Ian. "It would be my gift to you, which would allow you not only the profits from your own cargo, but a third profit from the ship itself." She looked back to Thomas Southwood. "The third share I buy for Ian will ease the loss of the cargo you carried when you were captured last year. I know you sail under the banner of the O'Malley-Small Trading Company, but do they own any share of the Royal Charles?"

Tom Southwood shook his head. "She's all mine, madame," he said. "Several of my relations have their own vessels now, but we still sail under our family's banner for a number of reasons."

"I understand," Cat said, "but will you sell me a third share?"

"Aye," he consented, "I will, madame. The price you agree upon will indeed ease my loss, and allow me to pay my men a small stipend, for they lost, too, by our sojourn to El Sinut."

India had been fascinated by the conversation, but now as the talk turned to concluding the bargain, her mind wandered. How far had her message traveled? How would her husband retrieve her safely? What would her family think of all of this? She was hesitant to write to them just now for fear they might somehow manage to prevent her from returning to El Sinut. She knew it was a silly fear, for they were so far away in Scotland, or perhaps England, at this point in time. Still, she might err on the side of caution, and wait.

***

Several weeks went by during which the Royal Charles was restored to her full glory, but the cannon installed by the janissaries remained aboard. Thomas Southwood had decided that the loss of some cargo space was worth the ability to defend his ship. Finally, one sunny morning, he and Ian came to bid the ladies a farewell, the vessel being fully loaded, and ready to set sail for Istanbul.

"When do you plan to send India home?" the captain asked Lady Stewart-Hepburn. "Have you written to your son yet?"

"There has been no time with all your excitement, and Ian's plans," Cat said ingenuously. "I shall, of course, write to Jemmie and Jasmine soon. I enjoy India's company, and think I may take her with me to my villa outside Rome for the winter. Next spring is time enough for her to return home." She smiled at him.

"I leave the matter in your hands, madame. I have done my duty in rescuing my cousin from Barbary. My conscience is clear," Tom replied with a smile of his own. He kissed her hand, then turned to India. "I am happy to see you are returning to reason, Cousin."

"Go to hell," India told him, smiling brightly.

He laughed. "I think you will be too old by the time you return to Scotland for a husband. Perhaps it will suit you to live out your life without a man. I wish you good fortune."

"Farewell, Thomas Southwood. Go safely," India said, and turned away to bid Ian Stewart-Hepburn an adieu. "I hope your venture will succeed. Listen to Tom. He is knowledgeable, if pigheaded."

Ian chuckled. "Godspeed, India," he said with a wink.

For a moment, she looked a bit puzzled, and then India realized that Ian knew of her plans. She laughed aloud, then said, "I thank you, Ian. You may look like your father, but you are your mother's son as well, I think." Then she kissed him on the cheek.

Several days later, Captain Pietro appeared at the Villa del Pesce d'Oro. He was shown into the salon where the two women awaited him. He tried hard not to gape at the exquisite furnishings and the two beauties, only coming to his senses when Conall poked him roughly.

"Well, man, what news do you bring?" Conall demanded.

The smuggler drew the leather envelope from his shirt, and handed it to Conall. "We could not deliver it, signore."

"Why?" The single word snapped from India's mouth.

"There is a rebellion in El Sinut, madonna. The city was half aflame, the people alternating between fleeing into the hills and rioting. The janissaries were attempting to restore order. It was impossible to even get near the palace. Besides, the dey has been killed by the janissaries. He was, it appears, disloyal, or so the rumor being bruited about said. I am sorry, madonna."

India never heard him. She had already crumpled to the floor.

^{SCOTLAND AND ENGLAND, 1627-1628}

"Never, madame, did I expect to ever see you standing in this hall again," the duke of Glenkirk said to Lady Stewart-Hepburn. "Welcome home, Mother. Welcome home!"

"Thank you, Jemmie." Cat let her eye wander. Little had changed in all the years she had been gone. Her great-grandmother, Janet Leslie, still commanded the hall from her portrait above one of the two large fireplaces. God's boots, she thought. Did Mam ever face the problems I now face, and must solve? Cat doubted it. "Where is India?" he asked her.

"She is with her mother, Jemmie. They need to talk," Cat replied. "India has suffered greatly."

"Come and sit by the fire, madame," he invited her, leading her by the hand to a comfortable chair. He signaled a servant to bring them refreshment. "India deserves to suffer for her disobedience," James Leslie said harshly. "I suppose haeing had his way wi her, that young English fop deserted her. I always thought it was India's wealth that attracted him, nae just what was between her legs. I suppose when he discovered only her mother and I could release that wealth to her, he departed. Still, either way she's ruined herself, and I'll nae forgie her for it!"

"God's blood, Jemmie, you've become narrow and pompous in your old age. While it is true that India eloped with young Leigh, she was wise enough to do so on an O'Malley-Small vessel. She went aboard disguised as an old lady being escorted by her nephew to Naples. Fortunately, the captain was your wife's cousin, Thomas Southwood. Her ruse was quickly discovered, and India was taken into his custody while her equally foolish swain was confined to his cabin. The only intimacy between them were a few stolen kisses.

"Unfortunately, the ship was taken by Barbary corsairs out of the state of El Sinut. When he saw they would be captured, Tom Southwood advised his men to accept Islam and avoid the galleys. He did so himself, and was eventually able to steal back his own ship. Young Leigh, however, offended the dey of El Sinut, and is still today in captivity and chained to an oar. We don't even know if he is yet alive."

"And my daughter? What happened to India?" the duke asked.

"The dey was attracted to her, and took her into his harem. He fell in love with her, and made her his first wife. She was very much in love with him, but Tom Southwood kidnapped her when he and his men escaped El Sinut. He would not listen to her when she tried to tell him she was content and happy. He brought her to me in Naples. When I heard the story, I, of course, planned to send her home to her husband, but then we received word there had been some sort of civil unrest in El Sinut, and that the dey was killed trying to put it down. She has been inconsolable ever since. That was why I decided to bring her home, instead of keeping her with me in Rome this winter. India needs her family now more than she has ever needed them, Jemmie."