Free Beware of Virtuous Women by Kasey Michaels Page B

isn't much to tell. Papa and the rest, including the crews of both his ships, decided to move themselves to England after Cassandra's mother died. Papa had no heart to remain on the island home he'd made for everyone, you understand, and it seemed that most everyone felt as he did, that it was time to come home."
    "Home? I've met many of the people who live in Becket Village and work at Becket Hall, Eleanor. Not half of them are English."
    Eleanor lifted her chin slightly, proud of Ainsley Becket. "Anywhere my father is becomes home to those loyal to him."
    "I stand corrected. If everyone else at Becket Hall is as loyal as you, Eleanor, I imagine they'd follow Ainsley into hell if that's where he was headed."
    No, they'd all already been there, their hell had been where they'd died on that island, then come to England with the hope of living again, Eleanor thought, lowering her gaze. "I believe I told you that I never saw the island. I remember none of it, but I've been told there was a storm at sea as they were making their way here to England, and the ship I was traveling on capsized. Fortunately, that ship was within sight of Papa's ships. Jacko himself saved me. Jacko, and then Chance."
    Jack frowned. "And that's it? That's what happened? Your ship went down but you were saved? Only you?"
    "Only me," Eleanor said, keeping her gaze steady on Jack as he believed her lies...most particularly the lie of timing. "Eleanor is the name Papa chose for me, as I was ill for a long time and, as I said, remember nothing, not even my given name. In truth, I don't even know how old I am. Odette decided I was six."
    She was lying to him. Lying through those straight white teeth. Jack knew it. The gaps in her story were huge, as if an elephant had just been tossed into the middle of the room. But Jack knew if he pressed for details, made mention of that great, hulking elephant, if he pushed Eleanor, he'd lose any trust he may have gained.
    Still, he felt he'd be expected to ask some questions. "Was it an English ship? Do you at least believe you're English?"
    "Yes, I'm English."
    Jack was learning more about Eleanor. For one thing, he was learning that she answered parts of questions, not the whole of them. She was English, that she acknowledged. She did not say that the ship she'd been sailing on had been an English ship.
    "Did Ainsley ever try to find your family here?"
    Eleanor looked at him, head-on as it were, when she answered. "There were attempts, yes. But time passed, and I was content. I had a new family, and since I didn't remember anything of my life before the shipwreck I didn't wish to leave that family. And...and I'm very content at Becket Hall."
    Jack looked at her closely. More lies. But what sort of lies? And for what reason? "So content, in fact, that you volunteered to come to London."
    "I haven't abandoned Becket Hall, Jack."
    "True enough," he said, rubbing at his chin. "But don't tell me you're not...curious."
    "Curious?" Eleanor folded her fingers together more tightly in her lap. "About what?"
    Jack shrugged. "I don't know. About the rest of the world, what lies beyond Becket Hall and Romney Marsh? About your...your other family, be they dead or alive? I know I'd be curious."
    Eleanor wanted to tell him, tell him everything. Not even her younger brothers and sisters knew the whole of it, but only pieces. Papa knew most of it, of course, but not all. Chance knew quite a bit, because he'd been there with Jacko, had snatched her up when...when it was over. But that was all. She'd never felt an overwhelming urge to confide in anyone else. For Jacko's sake, she supposed, since Papa cared for him.
    Everyone at Becket Hall seemed satisfied that Eleanor was content.
    But Jack seemed to know that no matter how happy she was at Becket Hall, there was always that not knowing. . .that question: who was she? Really? He couldn't, of course, know the rest. Nobody could. Nobody could even imagine the rest of it in their worst