Her Master and Commander

by Karen Hawkins

  A man turned from where he’d been standing in the middle of the room. Of average height with brown hair and blue eyes, he was attractive in a rather quiet way.

  Prudence dipped a reluctant curtsy. “Dr. Barrow. What a pleasant surprise.” She sent a hard look at Mother who colored but kept a determinedly innocent look on her face.

  “Mrs. Thistlewaite,” the doctor said, gulping loudly. “H—How nice to see you. I just came by to, ah—I came to see if perhaps—that is to say, I was wondering if—” He shot a panicked glance at Mother.

  “Prudence,” Mother said a little too brightly. “Dr. Barrow came to see if you were available for a ride in his new carriage!”

  The last thing Prudence wanted was to ride in a carriage with a man who could not string two sentences together without blushing. While it was true the doctor was a very kind, gentle sort of man, there was none of the deep connection she’d felt with Phillip.

  Phillip. She looked down at her hands, clasped before her. She missed her husband even now, three entire years after his death. Not as much as she once had—there had been weeks, even months, when she’d wondered if she’d ever smile again. She had, of course. It had just taken time. A long time. But now, she was able not only to remember Phillip, but be glad for the time she’d had with him.

  They’d met and married in six mad months when she’d been but eighteen. Phillip hadn’t been much older, so they’d practically grown up together. Perhaps that had been part of their friendship, their love. Whatever it had been, she missed that closeness. The pure loveliness of looking across the breakfast table at the person on the other side and knowing she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

  Mother gestured to the tea tray sitting by the fire. “Prudence, you returned just in time. Mrs. Fieldings just brought tea.”

  Mrs. Fieldings was their housekeeper, and a sterner, more dour woman did not exist. Still, she had a magical touch when it came to pastries, which was evinced by the plate sitting with the teapot. Every pastry was golden and fluffy, glistening with honey coating, the room rich with the scent of warm butter and mouthwatering freshness.

  Prudence finally found a smile. “Tea will be just the thing! I am famished.” She raised her brows at the doctor. “Will you be staying?”

  He turned even redder, glancing wildly at Mother, then back at Prudence. “I—ah—I really must be on my way.”

  Prudence wondered if the captain cared enough about anyone to blush. She tried to imagine him stuttering and could not. But then, she couldn’t imagine the captain being polite, either.

  The man was a complete behemoth. Part of it was his size; he towered over everyone, his shoulders so broad they looked as if he could carry a ship as easily as command one. He wore his profession with every barked order, every impolite utterance.

  What really bothered her was that he didn’t seem to care. He was perfectly happy being boorish. She remembered the way he’d looked at her when she’d first walked up to him in the garden—he’d stared at her head to foot, his gaze lingering in a very disturbing way. She shifted uncomfortably at the thought, her skin tingling as if he’d actually touched her.

  “Um, Mrs. Thistlewaite, may I say you look well today?”

  Usually Prudence found the doctor’s disjointed and milquetoast utterances rather irksome, but after spending twenty minutes with an oaf like the captain, she decided she rather liked the doctor’s nonthreatening presence. “You are too kind! I hope you are staying for tea. It’s so cold outside.”

  He glanced regretfully at the clock on the mantel and shook his head. “Was just telling your mother I couldn’t remain a moment longer. I wish I could, but—patients, you know.”

  Mother rushed forward. “Surely they would understand! I thought you’d stay long enough to have tea. At least one cup.”

  “Perhaps next time.” He bowed to Prudence, meeting her gaze with a look of entreaty.

  She immediately smiled. “Of course you must be on your way. Perhaps you will return another time and visit longer.”

  His smile was blinding. “That would be lovely. Mrs. Crumpton. Mrs. Thistlewaite.” He bowed to both of them. “It was a pleasure.”

  “And you.” Prudence dipped a curtsy, her gaze sliding to the tea tray. Her stomach rumbled so loudly she was certain the doctor had to have heard it.

  He didn’t seem to notice, though, for he bowed again to her, then took Mother’s hand for a brief moment before leaving.

  “Well!” Mother said as the door closed behind him.

  “Well, indeed.” Prudence was already at the tea tray. “Mrs. Fieldings outdid herself yet again.” She carried the tray to the small table before the settee and poured two cups of tea. “I wonder what brought the doctor.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know,” Mother said, placing pastries on two plates and handing one to Prudence. Mother’s bright green gaze fixed steadily on Prudence. “You could at least have asked the doctor to dinner.”

  Prudence took a bite of pastry. “I didn’t want Dr. Barrow to come to dinner. He is always ill at ease and it makes conversation so difficult.”

  “He’s a doctor. Surely that has some merit.”

  “Indeed it does. If I feel ill for eating too many of these delicious pastries, I shall call on him immediately.”

  Mother sighed. “I don’t know what I am to do with you.”

  “Nothing.” Prudence finished her pastry and wiped her hands on her napkin. “I can take care of myself, thank you.”

  “So I see.” Mother took a sip of tea. “How was your visit with the captain?”

  “It was horrid. The captain did everything but toss me out onto my ear.” Had the man had his way, Prudence had no doubt she’d have been tossed out on something far more ignominious than her ear.

  Mother’s face fell. “That is too bad. I had hoped—” She frowned at Prudence. “Were you polite?”

  “Of course I was! How can you ask that?”

  “Sometimes—just sometimes, mind you—I’ve noticed you have a tendency to let your temper override your good sense.”

  “Mother!”

  “I’m sorry but it’s true.”

  “I was very polite. It was the captain who displayed such a ferocious temper. In fact, he has such ill feelings about females in general that he said he wished our attempt to establish a seminary may fail. The man is a horrid, selfish person.”

  “Perhaps you just caught him at a bad time,” Mother said cautiously. “He is a war hero, you know. Lucy has been talking to one of his men.”

  “Mother, you should not gossip with the upstairs maid.”

  “But she knows all about the captain! How else would we have discovered he is a war hero?”

  “We still don’t know if he is a war hero. All we know is that one of the captain’s men told Lucy the man was a war hero. That is not quite the same thing.”

  Mother sighed. “You are far too young to be so jaded.”

  “And you are far too old to be so naive, though I must say you don’t look a year over forty. I hope I shall age so gracefully.”

  Mother’s smile broke forth like the sun over the ocean. “You really think I look but forty?”

  “I begin to think perhaps Dr. Barrow is coming to visit you and not me.”

  That won a full chuckle and Mother settled in to enjoy her tea.

  Prudence finished her second pastry. She had been furious when she’d left the captain, but sitting here now, before the fire, sipping a nice cup of tea with lots of sugar and extra cream, made her irritation disappear like smoke before a gentle breeze.

  She glanced around their cottage with a deep feeling of satisfaction. It was warm and cozy here in the sitting room, the settee and drapes a delightful red color. Flowered pillows and a thick Aubusson carpet on which sat a matching set of cherrywood chairs filled the room with warmth and color. “Phillip would have liked this room.”

  Mother paused in taking a sip of tea, her eyes darkening momentarily. “Oh, Prudenc
e. I’m so sorry. What made you think of him?”

  “I always think of him,” Prudence said with a sigh.

  “I know.” Mother’s eyes filled as she reached over and patted Prudence’s hand. “Prudence, I wish sometimes that—Well, it doesn’t matter.”

  “What? You wish I didn’t remember Phillip?”

  “Oh no, dear! I would never wish that. I just wish you’d find someone else. You deserve to be happy.”

  Prudence took a satisfying sip of tea. “I am happy. Very. Except for the sheep problem.”

  “It is most vexing,” Mother replied, sending a side glance at Prudence. “I wonder how they are getting past the gate.”

  “However they are doing it, the captain flatly refuses to pen up his sheep. The man is a nuisance.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  Prudence put down her cup, the bowl rattling against the saucer. “Mother, the man not only refused to pen up his sheep, but he threatened to train his dogs to herd those infernal animals onto our land unless we stopped pestering him about it!”

  “Goodness,” Mother said, looking rather miserable. “Your interview did not go well at all.”

  “No, it did not. But I am not finished with the captain.”

  Mother brightened. “Oh?”

  “No. I will find a way to make him listen to us. See if I don’t.”

  Mother waved her pastry in the air, her eyes sparkling indignantly. “That foolish sheep, trudging through the new hedgerow and eating all the mint! The nerve of it!”

  Prudence toyed with the handle of her cup. “How do those sheep get over that fence?”

  “That is the question, isn’t it? I wonder if they have found a way to undo the latch.”

  “And latch it back? I don’t think so.” Perhaps she’d go to the village in the morning and make some inquiries of the herding laws. She knew the perfect depth to curtsy to a princess, a duchess, a countess, and a viscountess. But she knew absolutely nothing about livestock.

  “If you keep scowling like that, you will get lines in your brow.” Mother’s gentle voice held a touch of exasperation. “What did that man say to so upset you?”

  Prudence picked up her teacup, absently staring into it. The captain had not said anything she hadn’t expected. Not really. It was more the way he’d looked at her; in a way that had made her feel painfully aware of herself. In the same way Phillip had looked at her, only…the captain’s look had burned, simmered inside of her. She’d never felt that with Phillip.

  “Prudence?”

  She looked up to find Mother staring at her, brows raised. Heat touched Prudence’s cheeks. “I’m sorry, Mother. I was just thinking about the captain. He was rude and it made me angry.” Which was true. Perhaps that was what she needed to focus on—how mad the man had made her. Yes, that was good. Prudence set her cup back on the tray. “Mother, I have had it with the captain’s lackadaisical manner of watching after his livestock. If he will not tend to them, then I will. Only I will use a spit over a hot fire and mint sauce.”

  “Prudence! You cannot go about threatening to cook another person’s sheep.”

  “Mother, we are now in the wilds of Devon. London rules do not apply. Let me deal with the sheep; you tend to starting our school.” Prudence straightened her shoulders. Yes. She’d deal with the captain in her own fashion. “Mother, have you heard anything from your friend, Lady Margaret? She promised her daughter would be our first student.”

  Mother’s expression darkened. “I meant to tell you…”

  Prudence’s heart sank. “She said no.”

  “I’m certain she didn’t mean to make promises she didn’t intend to keep. Something very grave must have prompted her to—Well, here. Read it for yourself.” She pushed her hand into the pocket hidden in her morning dress and handed a very small note to Prudence.

  “My, how Lady Margaret does go on and on,” Prudence said dryly as she opened the painfully short note. “She never meant to send Julia, did she?”

  “I’m sure she did! But Lady Chisworth’s Academy is quite selective, and I’m sure if I was in the same position and you had been accepted there that I—”

  “You would not have disappointed a friend you’d known since you were six, no matter how select Lady Chisworth’s Academy might be.”

  Mother sighed, a wistful expression on her face. “No. I don’t suppose I would.”

  “Nor would you disappoint a friend who had come to your aid every time one of your numerous children caught the slightest complaint. Why, when I think of all the times you’ve rushed to Lady Margaret’s side to help her nurse those brats of hers through God knows how many illnesses—”

  “Prudence! You shouldn’t say such things.”

  Prudence sighed. “You’re right and I am sorry. It just makes me angry when people take advantage of you. We bought this cottage so you could make a seminary. All we need are a few well-placed students and you would be set. I really thought your friends meant their promises to assist you.”

  Mother’s shoulders sagged dispiritedly. “I did, too. Not only has Lady Margaret led me astray, but Lady Caroline has, as well. It seems as if none of them was ever truly my friend.”

  Prudence reached over the small table and took Mother’s hand in her own. “I am sorry things are not turning out as we’d hoped.”

  Mother managed a smile. “Yes, well, I refuse to let it bother me. We’ll find a way to launch our school.”

  “I know we will. We simply must think. Who else of our acquaintance has a seminary-aged daughter?”

  They were silent for a long time, both mentally going through their various acquaintances. It wasn’t easy, as they’d lost so many supposed friends when Phillip’s business had fallen and the scandal had occurred. Prudence’s throat tightened at the memory of those dark weeks.

  Mother straightened. “Prudence! I know just the thing! I believe I shall write a letter to my old friend, Lady Boswell.”

  “Lady Boswell? From Scotland? The one who sends us those horrid, hard Christmas cakes every year? I didn’t think she had any children.”

  “No, but she has more than twenty nieces. Last year at the Daringham breakfast I distinctly remember hearing her lament how she’d determined to pay for all of their educations since her brothers had no funds to speak of. Whatever you might say about Lady Boswell’s rather irregular way of doing things, she is a strong proponent of women having an education.”

  “Twenty nieces. Mother, do you think…? Perhaps if we gave her a special price—”

  “Exactly! She’s as thrifty as she is tall. I believe we might fill our five slots almost immediately.”

  Prudence clasped Mother’s hands. “That is marvelous! I do hope—We must make certain the repairs on the cottage are done quickly. You can teach the girls comportment and dancing and all sorts of accomplished things, and I can teach them gardening and drawing and philosophy and Greek and—”

  “But first we must resolve the sheep issue. We simply cannot have those animals wandering all over our garden. What if one bit a student? Perhaps you should speak to the captain again, only this time, pray use a more gentle tone.”

  “He leaves me with no choice. I’ve asked him repeatedly to do something about those blasted sheep—”

  “Prudence!” Mother’s voice edged with soft disapproval.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that I have asked him and asked him and he does nothing more than shoo me away like some sort of buzzing insect.”

  “That’s no reason to lower your standards of speaking. As I’ve told you often enough, a woman is judged as much by—”

  “—her speech as by her deeds. I know, I know. I don’t mean to be so indiscreet, but that man raises my ire.”

  “Hm. You know, Prudence…perhaps there is something to your irritation.”

  Prudence looked suspiciously at her mother. “Oh?”

  “There must be something about the captain that attracts you if he’s able to raise your temper so
.”

  “Nonsense. I am often angry with men I don’t know.”

  “When?”

  “Whenever I read the Morning Post. There are several contributors—all male, I might add—whom I do not care one snap of my fingers for. Every time they dip their pen into the ink pot, steam begins to rise from my ears. They express no one’s opinion but their own, yet presuppose they are speaking for the masses. I have no time for such worthless conceit.”

  Mother’s lips quirked into a smile. “That’s not anger. That’s irritation.”

  “Well, it feels like anger to me.”

  Mother gave Prudence’s hand another squeeze, and picked up her own teacup. Her eyes smiled over the rim at Prudence. “Don’t look so grim, dear. Everything will work out. And if it doesn’t, you can always marry the doctor.”

  That would be just lovely, Prudence thought glumly. Marriage to the doctor would be about as thrilling as napping during an opera.

  Whatever happened, she’d win this war with the captain. Win it and help Mother establish a successful school, too. Then she’d see who had the last laugh. The captain would see that she’d not yet begun to fight.

  Chapter 4

  The First Meeting with your employer is vastly important. Here, you must set the tone of your future relationship. This is a delicate maneuver as too much familiarity breeds contempt while too little begets a disturbing tendency for said employer to run roughshod over one. Take a stand on important issues, but do so in a discreet manner that allows your master to retain his pride. And you, yours.

  A Compleat Guide for

  Being a Most Proper Butler

  by Richard Robert Reeves

  Tristan leaned his head against the high back of his favorite chair, savoring the burning warmth of his brandy. He shifted slightly, wincing as he did so. His damned leg ached deeply, as if the very bones were grinding against one another.

  He forced his mind elsewhere, away from the pain, to the carriages even now climbing the cliff road. His first thought had been that it might be his father. But that simply could not be. The man had never made the slightest attempt to contact him; why would the bloody fool do so now?