Free The Captain's Pearl by Jo Ann Ferguson

on the butler’s face.
    â€œWelcome, Miss Lian,” said Hyett, his composure returning. “The captain awaits you in the back parlor, Lieutenant Trevarian.” The butler glanced out the door. “Is Captain Catherwood joining you?”
    â€œNo,” replied Bryce as he took Lian’s arm. He was glad the butler’s question had not forced him to lie.
    Seeing Lian’s head swivel from one side to the other as she looked around them, he smiled grimly. There would be many things more alien to her than the furniture which glistened from beeswax. When she paused, he tugged on her arm. She did not move.
    She raised a fingertip to touch a figurine. “This looks like the lion guarding the gate to Mother’s Younger Brother’s house.”
    â€œI thought you had never been inside the wall.”
    Lian smiled sadly. “Mother drew me pictures.”
    â€œYou are lucky Hyett isn’t looking,” Captain Trevarian replied. “He’d have your head for touching the captain’s temple lion. It’s the symbol for the Shadow Line.”
    â€œWho is Hyett?”
    â€œThe man at the door. The butler.”
    â€œI thought you said only Catherwoods lived here. Who are these Butlers?”
    He laughed shortly. “He’s the butler, blue eyes. A servant.” He pulled on her arm again. “Keep your mouth closed. I don’t want you telling the captain the wrong way about his son’s death.”
    â€œI understand.” She was glad to admit that, finally.
    Giving her no time to stare at the odd furniture and rooms surrounding a staircase, Captain Trevarian drew her to a wide door edged by richly stained wood. He whispered something, but she did not hear what as she stared into the large room, which was filled with furniture. She guessed some of the pieces were for sitting, but was unsure why there were so many tables covered with items.
    Again Captain Trevarian’s hand against her back pushed her forward. Near a hearth, three men in dark coats were bending toward a man sitting in a chair with wheels attached to the sides. Suddenly four pairs of eyes riveted on her.
    She had no time to ask Captain Trevarian which one was her father, for her gaze was caught by the white-haired man in the chair. He was little more than a skeleton covered with skin and fine clothes. Across his time lined face, his skin was loose on his high cheek bones. Blue eyes regarded her with astonishment above his golden mustache.
    Was this the Captain Catherwood Mother had spoken of with love? Lian’s eyes grew heavy with tears. Was Mother still alive? One thing was certain. Mother would want her to show reverence to her father. Dropping to the floor, she pressed her head to the rug.
    â€œWhat’s this?” The voice was scratchy. “Young lady, rise.”
    Slowly she obeyed, as Captain Trevarian said, “Good afternoon, Captain Catherwood.”
    The man in the odd chair was her father. Keeping her face blank, she stared at the old man. If she could see nothing of herself in him, she saw much of Davis.
    â€œAnd who are you, child?” Samuel Catherwood asked kindly.
    She whispered, in English, “I am Lian, honorable sir.”
    â€œLian? The willow?”
    â€œYes.” It should not have surprised her that Captain Catherwood knew the meaning of her name. If he had lingered in Canton long enough to teach her mother to speak English, and to persuade her to fall in love with him so deeply that she had never married, he must know much about China. That thought was comforting.
    Captain Catherwood smiled. “You show excellent taste, Bryce. I assume, because you brought her to Stormhaven, that she’s your bride.”
    â€œNo, sir,” he said quietly.
    Lian glanced at Captain Trevarian. His voice did not match the arrogant shout she had heard on the ship. Her family’s wealth and prestige intimidated even Captain Trevarian? No, the captain was