Proof Through the Night

By Mary Jane Mayo

In July 1812, Lady Sarah Anne sails to the American states to find her uncle in hopes of restoring the family’s good name and fortune. Traveling with her young brother, the new Earl of Kernane, and her opinionated maid Marie, their ship is attacked and boarded by an American privateer, Patrick Morgan, which can only mean one thing: the powerful King George is at war with the unprepared United States.
By the time they sail into Baltimore, Patrick’s home port, Lady Sarah Anne and Patrick are confirmed enemies. She thinks he is low and brutish. He considers her proud and selfish. Good riddance on both accounts.
Unfortunately, Patrick learns that Lady Sarah Anne’s uncle is also his shipping partner, forcing their lives to cross paths in sometimes dangerous, sometimes comical, but always exciting circumstances. Amid the background of the treacherous war, the invasion of the Chesapeake, and the burning of Washington, Sarah Anne and Patrick mix with the great and not-so-great, discovering that they are more alike than opposite. Their initial loathing slowly changes, turning into mutual respect and ultimately a great love for which they are willing to sacrifice everything, including their lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary Jane Mayo
• Release date: Oct 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301208784

Mary Jane Mayo

Mary Jane Mayo is from Maryland and enjoys the rich history associated with this mid-Atlantic state. She has been recognized by the Maryland Writer's Association and has participated in writer's workshops at the Johns Hopkins University.

Book preview

Chapter 1

July 1812

The Atlantic Ocean

When Lady Sarah Anne’s rather perfect nose collided with the dust and rat droppings on the floor of her cabin, a cascade of forbidden words crossed her mind, but she kept her noble composure. Rubbing her bruised elbow, she stood, smoothed her skirt, and noticed a tear in her Turkey red gown, something she could ill afford to replace.

The anger in her blue eyes radiated with energy. It wasn’t bad enough that she, who was once presented to Her Royal Highness at St. James Palace, was reduced to seeking the help of a man shunned by society and living in the backwater colonies. Oh, no! Now, some raving American pirate was trying to kill her before she even reached the Maryland shore!

Sarah Anne’s anger festered in a knot just below her rib cage, where trust was meant to reside. It burned like a hot poker, a reminder of her failure to protect those she loved.

But Sarah Anne lived with hope and a vow to right the wrongs in her beloved England.

Reset the tea tray and gather every single playing card, Lady Sarah Anne said sharply, and for glory’s sake, Marie, fix your bodice!

The young maid struggled to her feet and adjusted her cotton shift, obediently stuffing her impressive bosom back into position.

A second cannon shot blasted the air. This time Sarah Anne was ready. She gripped the bolted table and leaned into the roll.

Me ass is puckering, milady.

Mind your tongue, Marie!

I am sorry, milady. I’m that worried. But I didn’t say bloody hell or bugger all, Marie’s white knuckles gripped the other side of the table, or wotcher cock, which was me Da’s favorite. So I am trying to mind meself. Marie’s creamy complexion was linen white. She expected a safe journey to Boston to join her brother, not to join the fish in the sea.

Wotcher cock! That’s a good one, Marie. Charles, Sarah Anne’s twelve-year old brother, giggled

I do not find this amusing, my lord! Sarah Anne pinched her brother’s ear. Charles was the Earl of Kernane, an ancient and respected title that deserved better behavior.

Owee! Let me go, sister!

Marie frowned. Milady could paint in oils, or speak real good about history, but she was one to use vinegar when honey would do. ‘Twas a shame that thems of the noble class turned their scrawny backs on her but that was no reason to abuse the young lad. Though, to be sure, milady had enough block and tackle in her pantaloons for the pair of ‘em.

A crisp knock on the cabin door helped Charles spin away while his sister was distracted. Marie opened the door. Lieutenant Meeks stood tall on the threshold, his intelligent face eager to please, but one look from my lady made him blush crimson.

Bloody hell, Marie thought. He’s half in love with her. Even if she hadn’t sixpence to scratch with, she was still a nob’s daughter and that made the sorry lieutenant well beneath her touch. Course she was a prime article, as her Da would say, with her flashing blue eyes and thick, black hair, though that sort ‘o beauty can be as much a curse as a blessing.

Meeks delivered a courteous bow. My lady, Captain Appleby sends his compliments and his reassurance. The lieutenant cleared his throat. We are preparing to retaliate forthwith.

A heavy rumbling above their heads caused the boards to quake, showering the cabin with more dust.

That’ll be the cannon rolled into position, the Lieutenant puffed out his chest.

Marie sneezed.

Use your kerchief, not your sleeve, Sarah Anne said automatically. Turning toward the lieutenant, she raised an elegant eyebrow. You said cannon?

She’s a single ton—a real menace.

Only one small cannon to defend us?

The lieutenant’s shoulders drooped.

Please convey to Captain Appleby that I do not accept his compliments. Indeed, I blame him for the predicament we find ourselves.

The proud officer swallowed hard to hide his shame. Appleby was a deliberate seaman, competent in fair weather, but he foolishly ignored the threatening signs of an unidentified ship approaching them.

I am sure my sister would like to add that we wish you safely through the conflict, Charles added kindly.

Marie nodded. Twist their twiddle diddles, Lieutenant sir, until their eyeballs pop out of their sockets.

Milady sent Marie a look of warning.

Forthwith, that is, Marie added with a sweet smile.

Meeks abruptly bowed and left.

Sarah Anne brushed the dust from her shoulder and serenely adjusted her cuffs. She would not, could not, show fear! She ordered Marie and Charles to tidy the cabin while she unlocked her trunk. Her face was pale but calm as she handled the weapon. A terrible wrong had badly damaged her family, and it was her duty to right it. Nothing, and no one, was going stop her.

Chapter 2

Captain Patrick Morgan was in battle mode when a single look from him made his crew hop in double-time. He wanted that British brig! Even though they were near the end of their cruise, with enough gold captured from British merchant ships off the coast of Jamaica for Parliament to put a noose around their necks, Patrick was still not satisfied.

A flagon of rum for the first man to board the British brig, Patrick, who was six feet tall with broad shoulders, defined muscles, and a gentleman’s flair, heard only half-hearted cheers from his twenty-eight loyal crewmen.

If you want these whip jackets primed for a fight, the first mate said in a low voice, promise them this will be our last raid. Richard Hopkins was also Patrick’s best friend. The men are tired and anxious for home to enjoy their new wealth.

Morgan’s gray eyes flared. No one dared interfere with command of his ship. Yet, taking men into battle made him sick to his stomach; not from fear, but from the heavy thought that wives could become widows and children could become orphans.

And when we have the English brig under our flag, Patrick bellowed, I am setting a course for Baltimore!

Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah! This time the cheers rang with gusto.

Richard gave a silent prayer of thanks. Patrick’s manic loathing of the British had pushed the men to the edge of their endurance. The Lady Chesapeake might be sailing under a letter of marque signed by President Madison himself, but Patrick Morgan was motivated by something more personal and much more dangerous.

Chapter 3

Look here, sister. I am tired of hiding like a rabbit in a hole. Charles was at a dangerous age, all arms and legs with little meat on his bones, but with a young heart that craved adventure.

My lord, ye are our only protection. Our safety rests in your brave hands. You must stay with us, Marie pleaded with clasped hands.

Of course—how selfish of me, Charles stiffened his shoulders. I will never leave you and Sarah Anne undefended.

My lady watched her maid with mild admiration as Marie cleared away the broken china. Gracious alive, the girl did not know a poke bonnet from a Spencer jacket and had burned her hair more than once with the curling iron, but there were times when Marie displayed honorable qualities that surprised Sarah Anne. She first noticed the barefoot maid during her sick visits to old man Hemming’s cottage. Hemming was the gamekeeper, and when he fell ill, Marie cleaned his house and made his meals. At the funeral, Sarah Anne noticed Marie’s warm brown eyes turned soft when she spoke to his lordship, giving a boost to Charles’ confidence. Sarah Anne sighed. If only the girl could speak like a lady’s maid instead of a street sweeper.

Fire!

Sarah Anne grabbed the table as the cabin shook. His lordship grabbed Marie’s slim waist and buried his head between two gorgeous breasts.

Zounds! Charles raised his head when the cabin settled. That was jolly good fun!

Marie giggled. I’m glad you came up for air, my lord.

Gunpowder smoke seeped into the cabin. Sarah Anne dipped table linens in a pitcher of water and handed the damp cloths to Marie and Charles to cover their noses. Suddenly, the old brig bucked up and down like a dry-docked flounder. Sarah Anne flipped head over heels, landed on her rump, and gasped in pain. She saw Charles flat on his back and crawled over shards of broken glass to help him.

Where do you hurt? Let me see! Sarah Anne pushed back the young earl’s feathery bangs.

Ouch! Charles cried. Must you pounce on me like an ox?

There were rapid footfalls and strange shouts above. One man screamed, another begged for mercy.

Oh milady! Marie cried. I do believe the enemy is on board, come to take us as their carnal slaves just as me Da warned would happen. Some rakehell will be shoving his barrel piece up me—

Sarah Anne shook Marie by the shoulders. Your father’s words were meaningless when he was sober, let alone in his cups. Trust me, no one is going to turn us into their carnal slaves.

No offense milady, but I reckon I am at greater risk than you. Marie rolled her eyes from her voluptuous chest to milady’s modest curves.

No one will be hurt, because I have a plan.

Chapter 4

Patrick Morgan outgunned Captain Appleby with twelve-pounder carronades, two swivel guns, and a pair of nine-pounders, slicing the Titan’s mast in two pieces. A dozen American seamen armed with sabers and muskets boarded the Titan and easily surrounded the poorly armed crew. Appleby ungraciously ordered the Titan’s colors dropped and offered a formal surrender, all the while calculating his lost commission on the cargo sale.

Damnation! Appleby cursed in frustration. He had never seen a ship cut across the sea so fast. The American ship was too narrow and top-heavy to pose a threat and should have capsized. Anyway, it wasn’t his fault. The lead ship of the convoy left him exposed. He would most definitely file a grievance in his report.

Captain Morgan! Richard shoved a pale, lanky lad across the deck. Look what I found hiding behind the longboat!

My, my, Morgan smiled, is this one of Wellington’s finest? Like his crew, Patrick had the vicious look of a mongrel dog. His clothes were dirty and stained, a ragged kerchief held back his unruly black hair, and there was a silver hoop in his right ear.

The lanky lad was wearing a stylish satin coat. His hair was neatly trimmed, and he smelled of lavender. The boy swung a pistol in the air and fired.

You little fool! Patrick snatched the weapon and gave thanks to the sea gods that the bullet went amiss. He lifted the lad by his collar, causing him to choke. Don’t you know that your captain has surrendered? That makes you not only an assassin but also a coward.

Lash him to the mizzenmast, Mr. Hopkins, Patrick ordered. And don’t release the whelp until he soils his fancy pants!

Richard was as tall as his captain but built like a boxer with bulging shoulders and thick thighs. His brown hair was turning gray from the uncertainties of sea life. Ah, he’s just a lad, Captain, Richard reasoned.

Appleby said with a mean look. You have the distinguished honor of addressing Charles Hamilton, the Eighth Earl of Kernane.

A blue-blooded runt, eh? Still holding his lordship by the collar, Patrick turned in a circle to show his catch to the crew. What say ye lads?

The Eighth Earl fights like a girl! a voice rang out.

The noble squire should burn by fire!

Make my lord go overboard!

Appleby laughed cruelly along with the others. The brother and sister had been nothing but trouble since boarding his ship in Bristol. Milady was a blue-eyed witch who complained that the tea was weak as water and the biscuits were not fit for her father’s hounds. His shin was still tender where she kicked him only because he enjoyed a little squeeze of her luscious derrière. Christ, she was a widow, and she acted like she had never felt a man’s hand on her fleshy bottom before.

Now they were the American’s problem and good riddance.

Chapter 5

Let. Him. Go! She accented each word to save misunderstanding.

Patrick turned toward the polished voice and was met with extraordinary blue eyes and yet another damned pistol aimed at his nose. Years ago, he had been seized by a British press gang to serve in the Royal Navy and had endured every manner of British insult, but the loathing in her eyes reached a new level.

Do it! Now!

Patrick took a moment to admire her tar black hair sparkling in the sunshine and her willowy figure, certainly worthy of further exploration. When a gust of wind molded her skirt to her body, a pair of shapely legs caught his eye and Patrick felt a surge in his trousers, the curse of being too long at sea.

Sarah Anne touched a hidden lever that triggered the release of a ten-inch blade. Your final warning, she threatened.

First Mate Hopkins did not like the reckless look in his captain’s eyes, I recommend you do as she wishes, sir.

Patrick dropped Charles with a heavy thud. As you wish, missy?

His lordship fell hard, scrambled to his feet, and demanded, "You will address my sister properly. She is Lady Sarah Anne Grayson."

Patrick smacked the side of his lordship’s head. I have taken this ship so you are under my command, Charlie boy. And my first order is for you to stow that rubbish about titles.

How dare you ... you ... you, oafish colonial jack tar!

Patrick expertly removed the gun from Sarah Anne’s grip before there was another misfire. He retracted the knife and said, a woman with a barking iron is no lady.

Lieutenant Meeks stepped forward. I’ll not have you insulting her ladyship.

Patrick saw the flash of longing and despair in Meeks eyes and felt both sympathy and admiration. My lady has a knight errant?

I don’t like you, sir. Sarah Anne raised her chin. I don’t like your smell. I don’t like your looks. And I especially don’t like your manner.

Yet, I am enamored with your pistols. I should get a good price for them, Patrick smiled.

They belong to his lordship.

Patrick turned his back.

I will see you hanged for thievery! Sarah Anne’s voice cracked.

Come, come, my lady, Appleby interrupted. You must yield. There is no dishonor in surrender.

You have my word as a gentleman that no harm will come to you or your party, Morgan said over his shoulder.

I would sooner trust a sea eel, Sarah Anne snorted.

Captain Morgan sails with a letter of marque, Appleby explained. Unfortunately, his actions are sanctioned by his government so he is not breaking American law.

Since when are we at war? Sarah Anne challenged.

Patrick gave her a wink that made the ladies in Baltimore swoon. His Excellency, President Madison, declared war against your tyrant a month ago, and not a single day too soon, right lads? His crew cheered in agreement.

Now, as charming as you are, Patrick gave a frivolous bow, I have much work to do. With that, he plucked the blue feather from Sarah Anne’s hat and left.

Chapter 6

He took my plume, Sarah Anne grumbled.

Morgan might look like a Newgate prisoner, but Sarah Anne saw something that demanded respect, something in the man himself that suggested strength of character. The defeated British crew sensed it, Captain Appleby sensed it, and Sarah Anne sensed it—or more likely, a spot of sour breakfast jam was making her stomach churn.

Be grateful that is all he took, milady. Marie had made her way through the crowd. But fear not, for I too have a plan. She showed Sarah Anne a knife, hidden in the folds of her skirt. If any dandy prat on this bloody rat hole takes me for their concubine, he will find this sharp blade stuck in his sand sacks like a needle in a pincushion.

Oh, gracious heavens above! Sarah Anne rolled her eyes. If our lives ever return to normal, I am going to teach you how to speak properly, so that when you meet your brother, you won’t embarrass him with your ignominious language.

Marie threw back her shoulders, magnifying her splendid chest, and smiled. Thank ye kindly, milady. I been hopin’ as you’d notice that my manners was improving.

I will make Captain Morgan pay for his insults, Charles clenched his fists.

He should be flogged, Sarah Anne agreed.

But he did promise that no harm would come to us, Marie said cautiously.

And my father promised me that if I married the man he chose, Kernane Manor would be saved.

Make yourself useful, Marie, Sarah Anne said, and see if that heathen Morgan has fresh fruit for our tea.

****

Patrick had hours of tedious work ahead: tend to the wounded, inventory the Titan’s cargo, determine each man’s share, decide who would sail the prize ship back to Baltimore, and then plot a course for the Chesapeake Bay.

And he was hungry, damn it. He hadn’t eaten since daybreak.

She’s a fine beauty, Captain, Richard’s eyes followed the English passengers being escorted below deck.

Aye, she is. Patrick held the Titan’s inventory sheets, but his eyes feasted on the long, graceful form of Lady Sarah Anne. It served his purpose to look the part of a wild man as it made his victims more compliant. But just now he wished he’d had time to tidy himself before meeting my lady. She was like a peacock among buzzards. Her stylish frock had blue piping identical to her eye color. Not that he noticed such things. It was a feminine trick to make a man’s knees go weak. Never worked on him. He always had a bout of rubbery legs after a raid.

Richard chuckled. You should have seen the sparks in her brown eyes when I took her knife.

Lady Sarah Anne has blue eyes, and she held a pistol.

Richard blushed.

The little maid? You are sweet on the little maid. Patrick clapped his first mate on the back and laughed. Good Lord, man, you’re old enough to be her father!

And what about you, Captain? Richard fired back. I saw the way you looked at her ladyship as if there were no Miss Davenport in your life.

Patrick raked his hand through his hair and sighed. Back in Baltimore, Elizabeth Davenport was waiting for a marriage proposal. She was a young beauty and the favorite niece of the Speaker of the House, who was most likely the next Governor