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Gilly, instructions to remove Gilly's petticoat and chemise and turn them over to Hawks, who would dispose of them.

    Betts looked amazed at such orders from her mistress.
    "If I give her underclothes to Hawks, what's the girl to wear?" she blurted. "Just her dress against her skin?"
    "Just see that she has a bath," said Carolina, who was impatient to read her letter.
    "And a dressing gown. I'll find her some proper attire as soon as I've read this." She waved the letter. "Gilly, go with Betts. She'll take care of you."
    Gilly fixed Betts with a belligerent eye. "I'm hungry," she announced sullenly. "Of course you are," said Carolina. "Betts will get you something to eat. Go along with you now."
    Gilly flounced away arrogantly after adoubtful Betts, and Carolina went into the cool, airy high-ceilinged living room to read her precious letter.
    And that letter, which had reached her so circuitously, took her mind from everything else.
    It was indeed from her sister Virginia, written from Essex-and since Virginia, worried that the authorities would trace her letters to Carolina, wrote so seldom, its arrival was an event.
    "I should have penned this letter sooner," Virginia began apologetically, "but I am kept busy with Andrew's literary projects-he has just begun a new translation of Virgil!"
    Studious, bookish Andrew! Carolina's face broke into a smile. He and Virginia were so well suited.
    But the next lines made her catch her breath.
    "I am afraid I have sad news for Rye," wrote Virginia. "His older brother Giles died last week. He drank himself to death at last-just as we had predicted. And the end was terrible-he screamed and saw demons and clawed at the sheets. I could not face it. I ran away although I know I should have nursed him, but Andrew said I was right for I must keep a happy face for my little one. And we may have another death soon, for although Rye's father is still alive, he gasps for every breath-indeed I do not see how he holds on at all."
    Carolina expelled a deep breath. For a moment the hand holding the letter dropped to her lap and she looked out through the window at the brilliant blue sky over Jamaica.
    Kells's brother Giles was dead. And his father soon would be.
    They had discussed what was happening far-away in Essex, Kells and she-and Carolina had not been happy with his conclusions.
    Rye Evistock was elderly Lord Gayle's third son. But his wastrel eldest brother Darvent was dead, shot last year in a brawl over a wager in a Colchester tavern.

    They had been aware that Rye's brother Giles, next in line for the title, was slowly drinking himself to death and might well precede his father to the grave.
    And in that event, when old Lord Gayle died, Rye Evistock, who was next in line-not Andrew, the youngest son, but Rye, whom the world knew as Captain Kells-would inherit the title and the family estate in Essex.
    He would become a viscount, he would be Lord Gayle-not just plain Rye Evistock.
    And once he became Lord Gayle, would that not help him win his pardon from the King? Carolina had asked anxiously.
    The man who called himself Kells had given her a wistful look and rumpled her fair hair with tender fingers.
    "You must not look forward to that, Carolina," he had sighed. "For in the event that I were to inherit the lands and the title, as matters stand now everything would most likely be seized by the Crown. Indeed I've been toying with the idea of renouncing all claim and letting the title and the estate pass on to Andrew."
    Virginia's husband! Her brother-in-law would wear Rye's rightful title-her sister would become Lady Gayle instead of her!
    And now this letter, telling her that Giles had drunk his life away. . . . And now Rye would renounce all claim and they would sink a little farther into their island prison.
    Carolina clenched the letter with a grip that crumpled the paper. She would not tell him yet! He had borne his two older brothers a measure of ill will, believing that between them