by Jane Jackson
Crossing the hall, Lobb glanced up, his normally wooden expression softening momentarily.
Self-consciously, Melissa raised one hand to her bare neck, still unused to her head feeling so light.
‘May I say, miss,’ the butler murmured as he passed her on his way to the front door, ‘that you are looking particularly well tonight.’
‘Thank you, Lobb. Just give me a moment.’
She hurried into the drawing room, and when he had seen her seated on one of the chairs near the fireplace, he opened the door. Listening to the sounds of her aunts alighting from the carriage, Melissa breathed slowly and deeply, bracing herself for the ordeal ahead.
She rose from her chair as Lobb announced her guests. Aunt Louisa was, as always, first to enter, swathed in black velvet over black silk. An elaborate turban of black velvet bound with a white bugle bandeau and three black-creped ostrich feathers sat behind a dense bunch of reddish curls at the front of her head. Aunt Sophie followed in black satin and lace. All her hair, except for a fringe of curls on her forehead and in front of her ears, was hidden by a chiffon bandeau decorated with twists of silk, a diamond pin, and several white ostrich plumes. Both kissed the air on either side of Melissa’s checks and she responded automatically to their greetings.
‘My dear –’ Aunt Sophie beamed ‘– you have the new crop! It is very becoming, and suits you well.’
‘I am inclined to agree,’ Aunt Louisa added before Melissa could murmur her thanks for the compliment. ‘Perhaps this new effort with your appearance is a sign you have learnt your lesson at last. It is only to be hoped you have not left it too late.’ Her gaze darted significantly toward James, who had just entered behind her husband and brother-in- law.
‘Surely,’ Melissa remonstrated quietly, ‘it would not have been seemly for me to exhibit too great an interest upon a first meeting.’ Leaving her aunt open-mouthed and speechless, she moved forward to greet her uncles with a curtsy, and offer James her hand.
He bowed over it. ‘Dare I hope, Miss Tregonning –’ he peeped from under his brows as he straightened, pressing her fingers ‘– that you are signalling a change of heart?’
Dropping a curtsy, Melissa withdrew her hand, masking her irritation with a demure smile. ‘It is my earnest wish that the memories you take back to London will be pleasant ones. As for my heart, sir, that is as it ever was.’ Let him make of that what he wished.
The table was a work of art: snowy damask; polished silver; glittering crystal that reflected the flames of the candelabra at either end, and bowls of cream and yellow roses releasing their delicate fragrance into the air. Gilbert served the first course, Lobb poured the wine, and Melissa breathed a sigh of relief as Aunt Louisa held forth on the effects of the cold among her acquaintance.
‘My poor dear Charlotte is quite exhausted. Not a wink of sleep has she had this past se’ennight.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Melissa sympathised. ‘Was she very ill?’
‘She wasn’t ill at all,’ Brinley Tregonning answered drily. ‘It was her son.’
‘Still, she must have been very worried. I imagine that sitting with him while –’
‘Oh no,’ Louisa interrupted. ‘She could not risk infection. Her condition, you know. So she had to surrender him to the attentions of his nurse. A good enough girl in her way, but it’s not the same as a mother’s care. Poor Charlotte, she was beside herself with anxiety.’
Not trusting herself to comment, Melissa simply nodded in what she hoped was an understanding manner, and signalled Lobb to bring the second course.
Mrs Betts had excelled herself. Marcus and Brinley Tregonning were sufficiently impressed to remark upon the rich succulence of the duck, and announced the lobster salad to be the best they had tasted. Acknowledging their compliments and promising she would tell the cook of their pleasure, Melissa noted the tightening around Aunt Louisa’s eyes and mouth and prepared herself for trouble.
‘So –’ Brinley looked up from his plate ‘– still no news from George?’
Melissa shook her head. ‘Not yet. But I’m sure –’
‘I do feel,’ Marcus interrupted, ‘that we have been somewhat remiss in leaving you to deal with so much by yourself.’
Melissa smiled and shook her head. ‘Not at all. No blame can be attached to you. It was my idea. In fact, if you remember, I insisted upon it.’ She ignored Aunt Louisa’s snort.
‘We thought –’ Brinley took up the thread ‘– it would be best to allow you to find out for yourself.’
‘Find out what?’
‘That you are not as clever as you thought you were,’ Louisa answered for him. ‘And that headstrong wilfulness such as you have exhibited only leads to trouble.’
‘Thank you, my dear,’ Brinley said firmly, then turned to Melissa again. ‘I imagine you must have discovered exactly how difficult and demanding it is to handle matters of business.’
Moistening her throat with a sip of wine, Melissa set the glass down with care and gave a thoughtful nod. ‘I admit it has been time-consuming. I think that is because I lack my father’s experience and quick brain. I cannot say it has been difficult.’
Aunt Sophie clasped her hands in admiration, while Louisa gasped aloud.
‘Such immodesty is not at all becoming, Melissa. What must James think? ‘
‘While I have no desire to offend my cousin, his good opinion can be of no relevance when it concerns matters of which he is entirely ignorant.’ Smiling sweetly, she glanced at each of them in turn, and felt a thrill of pure pleasure at the uncertainty on their faces.
Marcus cleared his throat. ‘What about this tree felling? How do the trees reach the timber-yard? Are you paying for haulage?’
Melissa shook her head. ‘No. When Mr Nankivell contracted to buy the wood it was part of the agreement that he would use his own wagons to move it.’
‘Was it, by Jove?’ Marcus exchanged a glance with his brother. ‘How does the wood reach the wagons in the first place?’
Relief that she didn’t have to admit to, or lie about, her own involvement allowed Melissa to relax a little. ‘Since my father’s hunters were sold, our groom has had more time, so he and the stable lad spend a few hours each day using two of the farm horses to haul the logs to a collection area where they are picked up by the wagons.’
‘Sold the hunters?’ Brinley began, but Melissa pretended not to hear him.
‘In fact, Mr Rogers has informed me that the estate is showing a healthy profit.’ Smiling, she picked up her knife and fork again. As she resumed her meal she noted the glance her uncles exchanged, and guessed they intended to adopt some of what they had heard on their own properties.
‘What about the packet?’ Brinley enquired.
She set down her cutlery once more, wanting to convey her willingness to answer all their questions. But the fact was that, despite the delicious array of food, she was finding it impossible to eat. Her stomach ached with tension, and each mouthful threatened to choke her.
‘The men are making excellent progress. The ship is now fully planked, the decks have been laid, the gun ports cut, and the superstructure is in place. The steering gear, capstans, and deck fittings have been installed, and the masts will be stepped and rigged at the end of next week. After that has been done she’ll be fitted out internally, the copper sheathing applied to the hull and ballast shipped. Then, once the hull has been painted and the decorative work done, she’ll be ready for launching.’ Melissa smiled. ‘I have every expectation of my mother being home by then to perform the naming.’
As her two uncles and her Aunt Sophie concurred with this hope, Aunt Louisa signalled Lobb to refill her glass.
‘I’m sure James must find such talk of limited interest. Let us change the subject. I must tell you, Melissa, about a party we attended last week. The new fashions are quite alarming. It is not enough that waistbands appear to have risen to the armpits, the dresses are made of such flimsy material that girls are
going out in public wearing dresses that are little more than a chemise. It is quite shocking.’
Wondering why this subject should be of any more interest to James Chenoweth than the one so abruptly dispensed with, Melissa merely smiled politely. Taking another sip of her wine, she glanced at him over her glass and caught his expression as he hung on her aunt’s words. Evidently she was mistaken.
As her aunt continued to give her opinion of the classic Greek look, Melissa’s thoughts strayed to Gabriel and the voyage ahead.
Chapter Twenty
‘You got everything?’ Sarah whispered as Melissa stepped out of the back door into the night.
‘Yes.’ Melissa hefted two baskets packed with food. ‘Be sure you lock up as soon as I’ve gone.’ Her coat and breeches were covered by a calf-length driving coat her brother George had left hanging on a peg near the back door.
‘You take it,’ Sarah had advised. ‘Be glad of that you will, ’specially if it do come on to rain.’ She had also covered her mistress’s cropped curls with a man’s soft-brimmed round hat. ’Tis always cold on the water.’
With Sarah’s anxious warnings to take care ringing in her ears, Melissa quickly skirted the house. Walking on the grass at the edge of the drive to deaden the sound of her booted feet she made her way to the park, climbed over the fence, and hurried down to the footpath at the bottom.
Turning away from the yard and the village, she followed the path along the lower edge of two fields, then round the mouth of an old stone quarry that had taken a great bite out of the hillside.
Now her eyes had become accustomed to the darkness it was easier to make out the path winding between gorse, bramble bushes, and spiky blackthorn that snagged her coat as if to hold her back. The breeze had strengthened, and she could hear the slap of waves breaking on rocks sheltered by the overhanging cliff.
Above her, an inky sky was sprinkled with stars, and the moon played hide-and-seek behind fast-moving clouds. Her brother’s top boots were a size too big and felt awkward, but they were far more suitable. Her own, shorter and laced up the front, would instantly betray her sex. She walked fast, anxious not to be late, knowing they must get away as soon as possible.
The dinner party had seemed endless. By the time it broke up, her nerves were stretched to breaking point. When the last goodbyes had been said and Lobb finally closed the door on the departing carriages, she had felt totally drained.
Waiting for her upstairs, having shrewdly guessed the state her mistress would be in, Sarah had helped her out of her dress, then made her sit down. Bathing her forehead and the back of her neck with lavender water, she had insisted Melissa swallow a small glass of brandy. Quarter of an hour later, much revived, Melissa was pulling on a pair of buckskin breeches.
The neckcloth seemed an added complication, and she was about to toss it aside when an image of Gabriel, his neck swathed in bandages, changed her mind. A length of muslin might prove useful and, easier to wear than to carry; it would be instantly accessible.
The path grew steeper and twisted as it wound down through thorny bushes to the inlet. With both hands full she could not steady herself and kept slipping on the loose earth and stones. Her footsteps sounded deafeningly loud, and beneath the two coats her shirt clung to hot, damp skin.
At last she reached the bottom and picked her way across the rocks toward the boat, held fast by ropes tied to trees that leant out over the water. She couldn’t see Gabriel and assumed he must he stowing something in the sail locker in the bow. But as the moon reappeared, illuminating the inside of the boat, Melissa’s mouth dried. He wasn’t there.
She gazed round, frantic, and whispered his name as loudly as she dared.
‘Here.’ His voice came from behind her. She whirled round, almost losing her footing. ‘I heard someone coming and thought it best to stay out of sight until I was sure … I didn’t recognise you in those clothes.’
‘Did you expect me to turn up in a dinner gown and feathered headdress?’ She was trembling from a combination of shock and anxiety, and reaction to both.
‘No.’ Taking the two baskets from her, he jumped down into the boat. Her anger dissolved as fast as it had erupted, and she flushed. Pulling off the enveloping coat, she rolled it into a bundle and tossed it in after him. Then, grasping his extended hand, she leapt down onto the deck.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘There’s no need to be. I understand perfectly. A difficult evening?’
She nodded, perilously close to tears, and swallowed hard. There was no time for weakness. She cleared her throat. ‘What do you want me to do?’
His fingers tightened on hers, and she felt his strength flowing into her. ‘Stay there for the moment.’ He released her hand. ‘I’m going to set the staysail and jib. They’ll catch enough wind to get us under way. Then I’ll come back and take the tiller while you release the mooring ropes.’
‘How do I –?’
‘Just pull the short end, the knot will come undone, then you coil the ropes inboard. Do you understand?’
Swallowing, Melissa nodded. A few minutes later, the boat was heading silently out into the creek. ‘What shall I do now?’ she croaked, her throat dry.
‘Take the tiller while I hoist the mainsail.’ As she caught her breath, steeling herself to remind him she hadn’t sailed before, he continued, ‘Just hold her as she is. Remember, you push the tiller away from the direction you want to go. Watch. See? The tide’s still high so we don’t have to worry about channels or mud banks.’
‘Don’t tell me,’ Melissa groaned. ‘There’s already far too much I do have to worry about.’
Taking her hand he clamped it onto the tiller, his fingers warm and strong over hers. ‘When the main goes up, the wind will take her and you’ll feel her come alive.’ She saw his teeth flash and realised he was smiling. How could he? ‘You’ll enjoy it, truly. See the headland over to the right? Keep the bow pointing to the left of that. All right?’
Teeth chattering, perspiration clammy on her back, Melissa nodded again. His hand was still holding hers to the tiller, and she dreaded the moment when he would remove it.
‘Nervous?’ he murmured.
She nodded jerkily, not daring to speak.
‘After all you’ve accomplished in the past two months?’ he mocked gently. ‘Compared to all that, this is easy. Trust me.’ Pressing her fingers lightly he let them go and crossed to the mainmast.
Melissa gripped the tiller as though her life depended upon it. Gabriel loosened the halyard and began hauling on the rope. Blocks squealed; the wooden rings holding the canvas to the mast rattled as the huge sail climbed higher and higher. Even though he had warned her, the boat’s sudden surge forward as the wind filled the rectangular sail took her by surprise. She seized the tiller with both hands and peered so hard at the darker shape of the rocky headland that her eyes began to water.
‘You all right there?’ he called softly. ‘If you are, I’ll put up the gaff and jib topsails.’
‘Yes.’ It emerged as a squeak, and she felt an overwhelming urge to giggle as hysteria bubbled in her chest and rose in her throat. She could feel the wind pushing them like a giant hand, and he was putting up more sails.
The breeze snatched at her hat and instinctively she put up a hand to grab it. Pulling it off, she bent awkwardly and stuffed it behind one of the baskets. The tiller pressed against her hand. She grabbed it and pulled. The boat swung.
‘Gently, Melissa.’ His voice floated back to her.
How could he sound so calm? Biting her lip, she eased the helm up slowly and felt the boat respond. Suddenly, what he’d said made sense, and as she moved the tiller toward her, then away again, feeling the wind press harder on the sails, then more lightly, a smile spread across her face.
She loosened her desperate grip and the painful tension in her shoulders eased. A few minutes later, he was beside her once more. He released another rope to let the boom out a foot or so. As the boat heeled over a
few degrees and picked up speed, Melissa lurched sideways, grabbed for a handhold, missed, and stumbled against him.
‘I’m s-sorry.’ His arm encircled her shoulders to hold her steady while she regained her balance. She blessed the darkness, for her face was on fire. To be held thus was utterly improper, yet it was so comforting. She felt protected and safe.
‘My fault, I should have warned you.’ He sounded strained. ‘The movement takes a bit of getting used to. But the wind is in our favour and we’ve made a good start. However, there’s a long way to go and you’ve had a tiring day. It would be a good idea for you to get some sleep.’
‘I couldn’t possibly –’
‘You must try.’ There was an edge in his voice she didn’t understand. Then it occurred to her that he too would need to sleep sometime. That meant her taking charge of the boat. Fear tingled unpleasantly through her limbs. She fought the sick feeling. Once they were far out to sea all she would need to focus on was keeping the boat pointing in the right direction.
‘How do you know which way to go?’ she blurted.
‘I have a compass. I’ll show you how to use it later. But now –’
‘I know. I should sleep.’
‘There are blankets beside the water cask. Wrap them and your coat around you.’
‘Where should I –?’
‘Try the sail locker. There isn’t a lot of room, but you’ll be shielded from the wind and spray.’
She looked round blankly. ‘There isn’t any spray.’
‘Not yet. We’re still in the Roads.’
Resolutely ignoring images of stormy seas she had watched from the solid safety of the land, she crawled into the cramped space under the half deck and curled up on the spare sails. The smell of wet wood, musty canvas, and seaweed was very strong. Pulling the blankets up, she buried her nose in them, certain she would never sleep.
Though the water hissing against the outside of the hull was only inches away, it was oddly soothing. The blankets smelled faintly of wood smoke and of the salves she had given Gabriel for his wounds. There was a hint of soap and the subtle male musk unique to him. She breathed in deeply, and her mind threw up random images of Gabriel as she had seen him during the past weeks. Her limbs relaxed, grew heavy, and she felt herself drift …
