Under flat eyebrows, two dark eyes weighed her, as fingers scratched a long nose. By any measure, he was an ugly man, but, unlike Chamberlain Vos, he radiated power. Every word out of his mouth felt like it was being etched into history; every glance contained a subtle rebuke, an invitation for others to measure themselves against him and discover the ways in which they were wanting. By merely living, he thought himself an instruction manual in good breeding, discipline and values.
‘My wife,’ he said in a tone that could easily be mistaken for pleasant.
His hand jerked to her face, causing her to flinch. Pressing a thumb to her cheek, he roughly wiped away a clot of powder. ‘How unkind the heat is to you.’
She swallowed the insult, lowering her gaze.
Fifteen years they’d been married and she could count on one hand the number of times she’d be able to hold his stare.
It was those ink-blot eyes. They were identical to Lia’s, except her daughter’s glittered with life. Her husband’s were empty, like two dark holes his soul had long run out of.
She’d felt it the first time they’d met, when she and her four sisters had been delivered overnight to his drawing room in Rotterdam, like meat ordered specially from the market. He’d interviewed them one by one and chosen Sara on the spot. His proposal had been thorough, listing the benefits of their union to her father. In short, she’d have a beautiful cage and all the time in the world to admire herself in the bars.
Sara had wept all the way home, begging her father not to send her away.
It hadn’t made any difference. The dowry was too large. Unbeknown to her, she’d been bred for sale and fattened like a calf with manners and education.
She’d felt betrayed, but she’d been young. She understood the world better now. Meat didn’t get a say on whose hook it hung from.
‘Your display was unbecoming,’ he rebuked her under his breath, still smiling for his courtiers. They were edging close, wary of missing anything.
‘It wasn’t a display,’ she muttered defiantly. ‘The leper was suffering.’
‘He was dying. Did you think you had a lotion for that?’ His voice was low enough to crush the ants crawling around their feet. ‘You’re impulsive, reckless, thick-headed and soft-hearted.’ He flung insults the way rocks had been thrown at Samuel Pipps. ‘Such qualities I forgave when you were a girl, but your youth is far behind you.’
She didn’t listen to the rest; she didn’t need to. It was a familiar rebuke, the first drops of rain before the fury of the storm. Nothing she said now would make any difference. Her punishment would come later, when they were alone.
‘Samuel Pipps believes our ship is under threat,’ she blurted out.
Her husband frowned, unused to being interrupted.
‘Pipps is in chains,’ he argued.
‘Only his hands,’ she protested. ‘His eyes and faculties remain at liberty. He believes the leper was a carpenter once, possibly working in the fleet returning us to Amsterdam.’
‘Lepers can’t serve aboard Indiamen.’
‘Perhaps the blight showed itself when he reached Batavia?’
‘Lepers are executed and burnt by my decree. None are tolerated in the city.’ He shook his head in irritation. ‘You’ve allowed yourself to be swayed by the ramblings of a madman, and a criminal. There’s no danger here. The
‘Pipps isn’t concerned about a loose plank,’ she shot back, quickly lowering her voice. ‘He fears sabotage. Everybody who boards today will be at risk, including our daughter. We already lost our boys, could you really stand to …’ She took a breath, calming herself. ‘Wouldn’t it be wise to talk to the captains of the fleet before we set sail? The leper was missing his tongue and had a maimed foot. If he served under any of them, they would certainly remember him.’
‘And what would you have me do in the meantime?’ he demanded, tipping his chin towards the hundreds of souls sweltering in the heat. Somehow the procession had managed to edge within eavesdropping distance without making a sound. ‘Should I order this procession back to the castle on a criminal’s good word?’
‘You trusted Pipps well enough when you summoned him from Amsterdam to retrieve The Folly.’
His eyes narrowed dangerously.
‘For Lia’s sake,’ she continued recklessly. ‘Might we take quarters aboard another ship, at least?’
‘No, we will travel aboard the
‘Lia alone, then.’
‘No.’
‘Why?’ She was so confounded by his stubbornness she failed to take heed of his anger. ‘Another ship will do well enough. Why are you so intent upon travelling –’
Her husband slapped her with the back of his hand, raising a stinging welt on her cheek. Among the courtiers there were gasps and giggles.
Sara’s glare could have sunk every ship in the harbour, but the governor general met it calmly, retrieving a silk handkerchief from his pocket.
Whatever fury had been building inside of him had evaporated.