In the Tudor Court Collection. Amanda McCabe

for the men’s clothes.’

      ‘I feel so useless. Everyone else has work to do.’

      ‘If you wish for work, there is some mending. A lady’s hands were not meant for menial tasks, but I believe needlework is acceptable?’

      ‘Yes, of course…’ Maribel was hesitant. ‘I did not think it right that I should do nothing. I am sorry I unpacked the chest if you did not wish it.’

      Justin reached out and caught her wrist, as she would have turned away. She raised her head, holding back the tears that would shame her, but he saw them and reached out to touch her cheek with his fingertips.

      ‘Forgive me. It looks very much better in here. I did not mean to be harsh to you, Maribel. We should try to deal more kindly with each other for the time we spend on the island. I know there are things here that you cannot like, but it is not such a bad place—is it?’

      ‘No…’ She blinked away the foolish tears and smiled at him. ‘The view to the sea is breathtaking and some of the flowers are lovely. I should have asked before I touched your belongings, but I wanted to be useful. There is no place for a lady here.’

      ‘I should have remembered that you would need some employment. I will purchase silks another day and then you may use your skills to mend or embroider some trifle.’

      Maribel turned away. He thought her good for nothing but idleness or some embroidery! At home she had been used to many tasks—she had helped Juanita in the stillroom and with mending, as well as embroidering covers and hangings for the house and the church. There had always been a task of some kind, though she saw now that much of her time had been spent in idleness, either walking in the gardens, riding or playing her viola.

      What had she ever done of real use? If her husband had not died, she would have been mistress of his house, but in her father’s she had been nothing—just the daughter of a woman it seemed he hated.

      What would she be in the house of her English relatives? Perhaps they would give her some tasks to perform for her keep?

      Maribel was aware of a growing unease in her mind. She was not sure of her welcome in England. Even if her mother’s family accepted her, she could only be an outsider at best, for she did not truly belong with them.

      Where did she belong? The answer was nowhere. Anna would be accepted here, because she shared the work they all did—but Maribel was too much of a lady to do hard physical work and so she could never belong.

      Returning to her own room, Maribel spent the rest of the afternoon staring out of the window and watching birds flitting in and out of the trees. She had nothing to occupy her time and wished for some needlework or canvas and paint so that she might have something to make the hours seem shorter.

      As dusk began to fall, she saw Anna at the well. She filled one bucket and left the other while she carried that back to the house. Maribel went out and tied the other bucket to the rope, letting it down until she heard the splash of water. She had begun to wind the handle to bring it up when Anna returned.

      ‘You should not be doing that, my lady.’

      ‘I am sick of being told what I should not do,’ Maribel told her crossly. ‘I have nothing to do but stare at the walls of my room, while you struggle to carry water, clean, wash my clothes and cook. In future I am going to help you with the chores.’

      ‘Captain Sylvester said that you were to be treated with the respect due you as a lady.’

      ‘He is not my father or my husband! He cannot command me. I shall do as I see fit. When I am in England I shall be a lady for I shall have no choice, but here on the island I must do some work or go mad.’

      ‘It is better to work,’ Anna said and smiled. ‘Let me carry the bucket, for you have filled it to the brim and it will be heavy. Tomorrow you can help prepare the food.’

      ‘We shall carry the bucket between us,’ Maribel said. ‘And then I shall change my gown for the evening. It will be cooler when the sun goes down and I think it would be better to wear one of my simpler gowns this evening.’

      Maribel looked around the beach. Bonfires had been built at intervals along the shoreline and tables made of rough planks set upon trestles had been set up. Some of them were covered with plates of food: bread and fruit and messes of meat cooked in wine and sauces. She caught the aroma of roasting pig and the smell made her mouth water. Already barrels of ale and sack had been tapped, and the men were drinking heavily.

      On some tables goods were displayed for sale. Weapons of many kinds, boots, clothes, all manner of trinkets, from combs for a lady’s hair to gentlemen’s silk breeches; barrels of wine and ale, goblets and cooking pots were jumbled together to be haggled over.

      ‘That is what is left of what we took,’ Higgins told Maribel and Anna. ‘The Cap’n sold the best stuff and we’ll be dividing the money later. The rest is there for anyone to buy, but it will not bring much.’

      ‘Is this the kind of thing you and Anna mean to trade?’

      ‘Aye, something of the sort. But there are other things that are scarce here, like flour, salt, spices and sugar—and I mean to buy a cargo after our next voyage and bring it back,’ Higgins replied. ‘But you must be hungry. May I fetch you food, lady—and you, Anna?’

      ‘I shall come with you.’ Anna smiled at him. ‘I know what my lady likes to eat.’

      ‘You are not to wait on me. I shall come with you and choose for myself.’

      Anna made a disapproving face, but did not try to stop her. Maribel followed behind them, taking one of the pewter platters and moving along the table as others were doing. She helped herself to some coarse bread and a yellow cheese, hesitating over the fruit; eventually she selected a peach.

      ‘You should try the suckling pig,’ a voice said close behind her and she jumped, swinging round to look at the man who had spoken. That evening Captain Pike was wearing clothes that looked cleaner than those he had worn the first time they met. His beard had been trimmed, but his hair was still greasy and nothing could disguise the foul smell of his breath. Maribel’s flesh crawled; she found him repulsive. ‘Let me bring you a slice, Maribel.’

      She shuddered, feeling her stomach heave. The lascivious look in his eyes robbed her of the desire to eat and she moved away, going to stand by a palm tree, her back against it as she surveyed the scene. A group of men were dancing on the beach, arms crossed as they performed some kind of a jig. Others were eating or squabbling over the goods set out for sale. She saw one draw a knife and threaten another. ‘Are you not hungry?’

      Maribel turned her head as Justin addressed her. ‘In a little while, perhaps.’ She was aware that Pike was watching her still and suppressed a desire to run away.

      ‘Has something upset you?’

      ‘No, no, I am not upset.’ She took a peach and bit into it. The flesh was perfectly ripe, sweet and delicious, and the juice ran over her chin. Before she could wipe it, Justin reached out and smoothed it away with his fingers. He ran his index finger over her lower lip and then put it to his mouth and sucked it, his eyes on her face. Maribel’s appetite fled once again and she could hardly swallow even the small piece of peach in her mouth. She took a deep breath, her voice shaking, ‘You must not worry about me, Sylvester. Please attend to your business. I am perfectly well.’

      Justin’s eyes flashed. ‘I did not ask if you were ill. You are distressed. Was it something Pike said to you?’

      ‘No, of course not,’ Maribel said a little too quickly. ‘He merely asked if I wished for some suckling pig. I said no…’

      His mouth tightened. ‘You must tell me if he accosts you, Maribel. I would kill him rather than let him sully you with his touch.’

      ‘No…please, do not kill anyone for my sake. I am certain he will not try to touch me; I shall stay out of his way. Please, mix with your men. I am certain you must have more important