'I have come a long way to see your master,' snapped Coxon. 'I'm an acquaintance of long standing. I need no invitation.'
The servant quailed before the testy edge to his visitor's voice. 'Sir Henry's guests have already arrived and they are in the main reception room. If you would wish to refresh yourself before meeting them, please follow me.'
Hector had been standing with the captain's coat over his arm. It was evident that he was thought to be some sort of attendant and was not included in the invitation into the house. 'I'll be introducing my companion to Sir Henry,' Coxon announced firmly.
The servant's glance took in Hector's workaday costume. 'Then if you'll allow, I'll have him given something more suitable to wear. Sir Henry's gathering includes many of the most important men on the island, and their ladies.'
They followed the man to a side entrance of the main building. Tethered in front of its long sheltered porch were a dozen or more horses, and off to one side stood a couple of light, two-wheeled open carriages.
The servant showed Coxon into a side room, telling him that water and towels would be brought. Then he led Hector to the rear of the building and into the servants' quarters.
'I took you for an indentured man like myself,' he apologised.
'What's that?'
The servant, evidently an under-steward, had opened a cupboard and was sorting through some clothing. He found a pair of breeches and turned to face Hector.
'Indentured?' he said, sounding surprised. 'It means pledged to serve your master in return for the cost of your passage out from England and your upkeep while you're here.'
'For how long?'
'I signed for ten years, and still have seven years left. Here, try these breeches on. They are about the right size.'
As Hector pulled on the garment, the under-steward managed to find a short waistcoat and a clean lawn shirt with a frilled neck and wristbands. 'Here, put these on too,' he said, 'and this broad leather belt. It'll hide any gaps. And here's a pair of shoes that should fit, and stockings too.' He stood back and looked Hector over. 'Not bad,' he commented.
'Whom do these clothes belong to?' Hector asked.
'A young fellow came out here from England a couple of years back. Was intending to become an overseer, but he caught a flux and died.' The servant gathered up Hector's old clothes and tossed them into a corner. 'Forgot to ask your name,' he said.
'Lynch, Hector Lynch.'
'No relation to Sir Thomas are you?'
Hector decided it was wiser to be vague. 'Not as far as I am aware.'
'Just as well. Sir Henry can't abide Sir Thomas ... or his family for that matter.'
Hector saw his chance to learn more. 'Does Sir Thomas have a large family?'
'Big enough. Most of them live down near Port Royal. That's where they have their other properties.' He paused, and his next words came as a shock. 'But this being so near Christmas, Sir Henry has invited a few of them this evening. They came by carriage, a full day's journey. And one of them is quite a beauty.'
Hector could think of no escape as he was led back to where Coxon was waiting. The buccaneer captain had cleaned himself up and put on his wig. He looked more of a gentleman and less of a brigand. Taking Hector by the elbow, he led him aside and whispered harshly. 'Once we step into that room, you are to hold your tongue until I've found out Sir Henry's temper.'
The under-steward brought them before a pair of tall double doors. A buzz of conversation could be heard coming from the other side, and the strains of music, a couple of violins and a virginal by the sounds. As the servant was about to pull open both doors, Coxon stopped him. 'I can manage that myself,' he said. The buccaneer captain eased open one door and quietly stepped inside, pulling Hector behind him.
The room was thronged with guests. They were mostly men, but there was also a scattering of women, many using fans to lessen the stifling atmosphere. Scores of candles were adding to the lingering heat of the day, and although the windows stood open, the room was uncomfortably warm. Hector, who had seen the lavishly decorated salons of wealthy Barbary merchants, was surprised by how plainly this reception room was furnished. Although it was some thirty paces long, its plaster walls were bare except for one or two indifferent paintings, and there were no carpets to cover the hardwood floor. The room had a raw, unfinished look as though the owner, having constructed it, had no further interest in making it comfortable or attractive. Then he saw the sideboard. It must have been forty feet in length. It was covered from end to end with refreshments for the guests. There were heaps of oranges, pomegranates, limes, grapes and several varieties of luscious-looking fruit unknown to Hector, as well as massed arrangements of coloured jellies and sugar cakes, rank upon rank of wine bottles, and several large basins of some sort of punch. But it was not the array of exotic food which caught his eye. Every one of the platters, salvers and bowls holding the food and drink, as well as the ladles, tongs and serving implements beside them, appeared to be of solid silver, and if they were not of silver, they were made of gold. It was a breathtakingly vulgar display of bullion.
No one in the gossiping throng had noticed their entrance. Hector felt Coxon's hand on his elbow. 'Stay here until I come to fetch you, and remember what I said . . . not a word to anyone until I have spoken with Sir Henry.' Hector watched the captain make his way discreetly through the assembly of guests. He was heading towards a group of men in the centre of the gathering. They were standing talking to one another, and it was evident from the space that had been left clear around them, the richness of their dress and their self-confident manner that they were the host and his chief guests. Among them was a tall, thin man with a sallow, almost sickly complexion, dressed in a plum-coloured velvet gown with gold trimming and a full-bottomed wig. He was talking to a fat, red-faced colleague in vaguely military attire who had several decorations pinned to his chest and wore a broad sash of blue silk. All the men in the group were holding glasses, and from their manner Hector guessed they had been drinking heavily. As he watched, Coxon reached the little group and, sidling round until he was next to the taller man, whispered something in his ear. His listener turned and, on seeing Coxon, an expression of irritation crossed his face. He was either annoyed at being interrupted or angered by the sight of Coxon. But the buccaneer stood his ground, and was explaining something, speaking rapidly, making some sort of point. When he stopped, the tall man nodded, turned and looked in Hector's direction. It was clear that whatever Coxon had been saying, it concerned Hector.
Coxon pushed his way back to where Hector waited. The buccaneer was flushed and excited, perspiring heavily under his wig, the sore patches on his neck prominent against the paler skin. 'Sir Henry will see you,' he said. 'Look smart now and follow me.' He turned and began to lead Hector into the centre of the room.
By now the little exchange had attracted the attention of several guests. Curious glances followed the newcomers' progress, and a path opened up for them as they walked forward. Hector felt himself light-headed as well as awkward in his borrowed clothes. With chilling certainty he knew that his deception was about to be exposed.
By the time the two men had reached the centre of the room, the babble of conversation was lessening. A hush had spread among the nearest spectators. The late arrival of two unfamiliar faces must have been some sort of diversion, for people were craning their necks to see what was happening. Coxon came to a halt before the taller man, bowed, and announced with a flourish:
'Sir Henry, allow me to introduce to you a young man that I took from a merchant ship recently. The vessel was stolen from its rightful owners and was in the hands of the thieves.
This is the young man's first visit to our island, but he comes with excellent connections. May I introduce Hector Lynch, nephew to our esteemed former governor Sir Thomas Lynch who, no doubt, will be in your debt for the rescue.'