The Duke's Daughter -Wattys2014 Collector's Dream Award Winner-

Chapter Sixty Three

But Betsy was enjoying her newfound skill so much, she didn't have to be told, she had already started reloading. Arianna had tossed the next one even higher, and Betsy executed the shot with the same precision as the last. They had continued the practice, with Betsy revealing a true talent to hit every single one, no matter how high a toss Arianna threw.

It was only after she had hit around ten of them, dead on, that Arianna decided Betsy was a crack shot, and there was no more 'practice' needed. The girl had a natural talent for the skill. Betsy was still grinning as Arianna went to collect the coconuts that had been used for their game. It was then that Arianna noticed, every single one of them had been hit through an eye on the sphere.
She looked over at Betsy, who was approaching her, still grinning like a cat with a bowl of cream.

"Betsy, it's the craziest thing, but you hit the little buggers on the spot every time." Arianna shook her head at the feat.

"Wasn't I supposed to?" Betsy had asked.

Once again, Arianna's jaw dropped. "You mean you were aiming for that tiny spot when they were in the air?"

"Of course, that's what you told me to hit, my lady."

It was then that Arianna realized, Betsy had a gift. Arianna tried to come up with even more difficult shots. She really ought to think more before acting, but she was running on amazement and adrenaline in that moment. She did not doubt Betsy could do it, it was just unnecessary. She had gotten caught up in the excitement and hadn't stopped to think.

It was one of her faults, she knew this, that there were times when she acted before thinking. Even when she thought things through thoroughly, sometimes things went wrong. However, she did know that ever since she had boarded the Seahawk for the Americas, she had been really living. She didn't think the adventure could be matched by her having stayed in England, and she would truly have resented her betrothed by now. She never would have seen, much less have been, on this beautiful island had she stayed home.

She heard an odd bird call from the vegetation a ways up the sand and glanced into the canopy of the lush forest. A large, bright Macaw sat upon a higher branch with his wings outstretched, as he bounced and called loudly into the air. His colors fascinated Arianna. She had never seen a creature with such vibrant reds, yellows, greens, and blues, before.

She watched as the bird sang and danced up above her on his high branch. He would dip one wing, then the other, before fluttering them both and turning the opposite direction on the branch. It was then that she noticed it's mate on a branch across the way.

She returned her attention to the male and saw him strutting back and forth on his branch with his feathers fanned out and his eyes darting about. She was mesmerized by the bird's antics, only imagining how the female must feel. He was certainly gaining her attention with his blatant display of colors, movements, and noises.

Arianna started to giggle, how different was this breed of creature from her very own? She had seen many men, strut around in their finery, squawking about their accomplishments, trying to lure a mate. She had heard of gorillas in the wild, beating their chests, to show the other males their strength and size. Were human males that much different?

She thought of Derek, and giggled a little more, she couldn't ever imagine him strutting around like a peacock in his finery. He didn't need to, his very presence commanded attention in a very masculine way. She did love his sense of calm and command, just not when it was commanding her. She looked back up to see the female bird fanning her tail feathers towards the male, and he immediately flew to her side.

This seemed a lesson she should take note of.

*****

The Duchess returned to the beach, where she noticed a new activity being carried out. I've returned just in time, she thought, as she watched boxes being unloaded from the boats just anywhere, cluttering up her camp.

"You men!" She called out to some crewmen lounging under the palms a ways up the beach. They came to her immediately.

"Yes, your grace?" The first of them to approach her asked.

"Could you please spread a tarp over there," she indicated the empty spot of sand behind Cook's tent. "Then arrange these boxes upon it, in an orderly fashion?"

"Yes, your grace, we will tend to it immediately."

"Splendid, I'm sure the captain will appreciate his goods being cared for."
She then looked around for Carmelita, wondering if she would like to accompany her to the pool Arianna had given her direction to.
She spotted her sitting in the shade with Betsy, watching as the children went about their fun.

Before the Duchess could make her way over to them another boat came in, the men haphazardly unloaded crates from the vessel and one such crate split and spilt it's contents of fabrics on the sand. The Duchess hurried to help the men collect them as a wave spilled onto shore and soaked them. Fine muslins, thin cottons, velvets, and even furs were strewn across the sand.

As they quickly gathered them, an idea filtered into the Duchess' mind. She would have to speak with Derek.
Once the cloths and other cargo had been stacked neatly with the others, the Duchess wiped the sand from her hands upon her skirts, and went off to invite Carmelita and Betsy to join her for a bath.

*****************************

The Duke of Marlborough stood on the balcony of the rooms that had been Arianna's, watching the sun set into the Caribbean sea. It was almost as of he could feel his daughter's presence here in this very spot. It comforted him to know that she was well and on her way home. Come the morning, he would be too.

A soft knock drew his attention to the doors that lead into the rooms. A young girl stood awaiting his attention.

"Yes?"

"Would you like to see her ladyship's rooms now, your grace?"

He sat a moment. Could it really be true?

Had his beloved Kathleen been held prisoner here all these years? The woman outside had told him the lady who used to live here was Lady Arianna's mother, but he still could not believe her.

"Aye." He replied. Perhaps something in the rooms would confirm, one way or the other, whether his wife truly lived. Miser had hinted at it, and when he had, it had been like he was being pulled two different directions. He wanted, more than anything, for it to be true. But after fifteen years, the hope was hard to imagine becoming a reality. After all, the search that had been conducted all those years ago, had revealed nothing. Not the smallest clue to where she had been taken, or if she still lived, had ever been found.

He had exhausted every avenue open to him for years. He had hired footpads, investigators, even getting mixed up with Miser, was due to the fact that Miser said he had information about the Duke's long lost wife. By now he had assumed Miser was lying to him, playing on his emotions to empty his coffers.

He was almost afraid to go see these rooms, what if he got no answers, he was afraid to hop. Surely she would have gotten word to him somehow in all this time. But, enough of this, he had to find out. "Yes, please take me to her rooms.", he asked of the girl.

As she lead him down the staircase to the third floor, he said a little prayer, "Lord, please let Kathleen be alive, it's all I've ever asked of you, I just ask for my family, we still need her so."

The young girl turned to him at the landing of the staircase, "Here we be, your grace. Her rooms are just beyond this door, would you like me to stay or shall I leave you now?" She asked him kindly.

"I believe I will be alright on my own,", he placed a hand on her shoulder, "Thank you." He patted her arm, then moved to open the doors.

"We will have coffee and a light repast for you when you come back down, your grace." She said, as she started back down the stairs.

The Duke took a deep breath and pushed the doors open. He walked into the sitting room, closed the door behind him and breathed. It hit him so abruptly, he sank to the ground. There was no mistaking that scent, the gardenias she loved so much. Her essence was everywhere, he breathed it in as sobs shook his body.

"My God.", he breathed, as he rubbed his hands up and down his face roughly, removing the tears that had been coursing down his cheeks.

He looked up and realized, even without her scent permeating the room, he would know it as hers. She had duplicated her own sitting room that resided at their country estate.

He rose and went through to her bedroom. She had done the same here. He tried to picture her at the vanity, brushing her long, black tresses. Was her hair still the silken, wavy curtain that he remembered? He pulled open the small drawer in the vanity, sure enough, there was a brush sitting inside the drawer and a few wavy dark strands still clung to it's bristles.

He walked to her writing desk and ran his hand across the top, stroking the smooth wood where she might have touched. It reminded him of his desk at their country estate. How he would sit at his desk working and she would sneak in and lock the door. She always turned to him with that funny smile and her one eyebrow raised in question. How could he have been so lucky to have had such a loving wife, and yet so cursed to have lost her.

'Twas then he was prompted by some unknown force to open the desk drawers. The middle top contained writing implements, the right top held paper scented with gardenias. But the drawer under that held letters, many letters. He lifted out one that began, My dearest love, he then scooped out as many as he could carry, taking them over to her bed he sat down and began to read.