Page 60 of Exile's Return
Daniel swirled the wine in his cup, watching the blood-red eddy he created. ‘One thing I don’t understand. If I was being used as a hostage for your loyalty, why did they send me to Barbados?’
He looked up to see a smile lighten his brother’s face. ‘Because if they’d left you in England, Thurloe knew damn well I would have moved heaven and earth to help you to escape, and we’d have both been safely on the Continent before he had time to react. I was too valuable to Thurloe to let that happen.’
‘That explains my relatively civilised treatment,’ Daniel said. ‘That is until…’
‘Until Pritchard’s health failed?’ Kit leaned forward. ‘I told you yesterday. I know the story, Dan. I know what Outhwaite did.’
Daniel sighed, flexing the muscles in his back and feeling the scars contract.
The gesture did not escape Kit. All humour drained from his brother’s face. ‘Show me.’
Slowly Daniel rose to his feet, removed his jacket and lifted his shirt, revealing his back to his brother. He heard Kit’s sharp, indrawn breath and hastily restored his clothing.
‘It was all I could do not to kill the charmer there and then,’ Kit said.
‘You met him?’ Daniel resumed his seat and reached for the wine, his hand shaking.
Kit nodded. Thamsine and I went to Barbados. We had to see for ourselves that you were truly dead. We saw to it that Outhwaite met his just end but we left with more questions that no one could answer.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Are you ready to tell me how you got away from Outhwaite?’
Daniel sucked in his breath. He had never once spoken in detail of those dark months between Jennet’s death and Outhwaite’s attempt to kill him. Not even to the man who had rescued him. He refilled his cup and took another deep draught of the wine. At this rate, he would be soused before lunch.
‘Outhwaite — you met him. Black, white, male or female—to him we were no more than chattels to be used and dealt with at his whim. If he had been hanged six times over it would be no compensation for the crimes he committed.’ Daniel licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. ‘He fancied himself a suitor to Jennet Pritchard’s hand. Neither Jennet nor her father ever countenanced that match. Jennet fancied herself in love with me, and…’ he looked away, ‘I’m not proud of the fact I encouraged her. If I had married Jennet I would have gained my freedom and become heir to Pritchard’s estates in Barbados. It didn’t seem such a bad lot in life. Unfortunately, Outhwaite saw me as the rival to Jennet’s hand, and in his cups one night promised, rather melodramatically I thought at the time, vengeance.’
‘Ah, why else do people kill?’ Kit said. ‘Love, money…power.’
‘He wanted all three, but most particularly money and power,’ Daniel agreed. ‘My pleasant future came to an end when Jennet contracted a fever and died. Pritchard succumbed to the palsy that left him bedridden and I was left alone in a power struggle with Outhwaite. He had the law on his side and I was quickly disabused of any thought I might have had of continuing to run the plantation on behalf of the sick man. After all, what was I? Just another prisoner, who had enjoyed some privileges denied to most.’
Daniel rose to his feet and paced the room, struggling to find the words for the events that had followed. ‘I interrupted him sporting with one of the girls, and while he had his breeches around his feet, gave him a beating. I hardly need to add that she was not a willing party to the transaction.’
Kit let out a harsh breath. ‘I had him down as a bastard the moment I met him.’
A wry smile twisted Daniel’s lips at the memory of Outhwaite rolling on the ground, his eyes bulging in pain as he clutched his privates, into which Daniel had sunk his boot.
‘He made me pay for that moment of triumph. He had me whipped and thrown into the Pit…’ Kit’s head jerked up at recognition of the word and Daniel shook his head. ‘You’ve seen it? A space not large enough to stand in or to lie down — exposed to the elements.’ He shuddered at the memory, unable to even begin to describe what it meant to endure the Pit for a day, let alone many days. ‘After a week, he hauled me out and sent me out into the fields with the other slaves.’ He looked away. ‘I should have just bided my time, kept my peace, turned a blind eye…’
‘To the murder of an innocent man?’ Kit put in.
Daniel shot his brother a sharp glance. ‘You know?’
Kit nodded. ‘You had friends willing to tell the story. According to their account, you witnessed Outhwaite beat one of the other prisoners to death.’
‘Outhwaite and two of his overseers killed one of the Scottish prisoners. The man had tried to escape, and it was supposed to be a lesson to us all. Unfortunately not one I took to heart. I attempted to get away, to raise help in Holetown, but Outhwaite set the dogs after me. They hunted me down like an animal.’
Kit rose to his feet and laid his hand on Daniel’s shoulder. ‘You don’t have to tell me anymore.’
But the veil of his silence kept so closely for all the intervening years, had been breached, and the words tumbled out. Shaking off his brother’s hand, Daniel continued. ‘This time he beat me with a scourge, left me in the Pit, and when he thought I was dead, threw me into the jungle like a piece of refuse to rot into oblivion.’
Wine slopped on his hand and he put the cup down, clutching at the table to stop himself from shaking. ‘I don’t remember much, except that the base instinct to survive must have prevailed. I dragged myself through the jungle to the beach. That’s where Broussard and the crew of theArchangelfound me, barely alive. They took me back to the boat, nursed me back to health…’ He took a deep, shuddering sigh. ‘I owed those Frenchmen my life, and I repaid it as a faithful member of Broussard’s crew for the last four years.’ He looked up, aware that tears were streaming down his face and he was helpless to stop them. ‘And now I find I have been a free man all that time. I could have returned to England…I could…’ He broke off, unable to continue.
So many could-have-beens.
Kit’s voice cut through, harsh with emotion. ‘God knows we tried to find you,’ he said. ‘We left Barbados with the faintest ofhope that you may have survived, but as the years passed and we heard nothing more, that hope died.’
He drew Daniel toward him and into his embrace. Daniel surrendered to the gesture.
‘Forgive me?’ Kit’s voice cracked.
Daniel broke the embrace and held his brother by the forearms. ‘Forgive you for what? You have nothing to blame yourself for. It was my decision to follow you to Worcester. Mine alone. I never once blamed you for what befell me. It’s you who must forgive me.’
