“And who is the ‘we’ you are talking about.”
“My father and I. But most of the better people of Dipton wanted to have a ball in Dipton so we are holding it here. Everyone has come; even your mother. The Countess decided to stay for the ball.”
“My mother is here? And just who is paying for this?”
“My father is.”
“That is very generous of him. I see that I can’t very well shut your ball down.”
Steves appeared at this point accompanied by a footmen bearing a tray with cold mutton, some chutney and some crusty white bread. The footman spread a table cloth, and laid places. Steves poured glasses of wine from a decanter for Captain Giles and Daphne.
“Steves, please pass the word for my cox’un”
Daphne, who was missing the supper upstairs, was both hungry and glad for a break from making sure that everything was going properly. With the problem of continuation of the ball resolved, she and Giles fell into easy conversation, though she noted that he steered the conversation away from his doings onto what had been happening in the fields of Dipton. Carstairs appeared a few minutes after Steves had left.
“Carstairs,” ordered Giles. “Make sure my sea chest is in my bedroom – I suppose that I do have a bedroom, Miss Moorhouse?”
“Of course. I imagine that it is all ready for you.”
“Then Carstairs, look out my best clothes. I will be along in a few minutes to put them on.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Are you going to attend the ball, Captain?”
“Yes, Miss Moorhouse. I can’t very well miss a ball in my own house. I am still angry with you, but since it is you who has arranged it, I insist that my first dance must be with you.”
It happened just as Giles had specified. Daphne found that he was a very good dancer. She only wished that he had been there to dance a minuet with her. But she insisted that he should ask his mother for the next dance. The following one she did reserve for him, but she told him she wouldn’t dance with him again until he had taken each of his step-nieces out on the floor. That task over, Giles again danced with Daphne. Afterwards, he found that he was a bit disoriented and not really able to participate in this activity much longer. He was experiencing one of the waves of blurriness that still followed his having been knocked unconscious.
“I believe that that is enough dancing for you, Captain Giles,” said Daphne, rather bossily as she saw that he was fading even if she didn’t know the reason. “I think that we should repair to the library again.”
Daphne noticed that when she touched his arm to steady him, he winced. As she steered him subtly toward the library, she whispered to Steves to see if Mr. Jackson was free.
In the library, Daphne maneuvered Giles into a chair and poured him a glass of wine.
“What is the matter with your arm?” she demanded.
“Nothing.”
“No, it is not ‘nothing’. I saw your reaction when I touched you.”
“It’s just a wound that is still healing.”
“I will get Mr. Jackson to look at it.”
“It’s nothing.”
“No, I don’t think it is. I will have it looked at by someone who knows what to do.”
Giles demurred, but found out that, when Daphne was concerned about someone’s welfare, she would not be put off. Soon Mr. Jackson appeared. Once Daphne had left the room, Jackson had Giles’s coat and shirt off so that the angry-looking wound that he had suffered in the taking of l’Hercule was exposed It was far from healing properly. Mr. Jackson took one look at Giles’s wound and called for his bag, a basin of hot water, some towels and a bottle of rum. Giles couldn’t help wondering what sort of a physician Daphne had summoned whose first need was a bottle of spirits.
Mr. Jackson washed his hands thoroughly and poured a bit of the rum over them. He examined Giles’s wound more carefully, and then started to remove the stitches, so that he could open the wound and clean it using the rum. It must have hurt like blazes, but Giles emitted only a couple of groans. Mr. Jackson then rubbed some gray salve on the wound. When Giles was dressed again, Jackson indicated to Steves that Daphne could return.
“There, Captain, that should do for now. Make sure to change the dressing twice a day and use the salve each time.”
“What is in the salve?” asked Daphne.
“It contains some mold and bark of willow. The mold seems to help prevent putrification.”
“Mr. Jackson, Captain Giles seems to be suffering from some dizziness,” Daphne said as Mr. Jackson was packing up his bag.
“I’m not,” said Giles just as Mr. Jackson asked, “How long has this been going on?”
“Since the French frigate blew up,” said Carstairs even as Giles again tried to protest that nothing was wrong.
The story emerged from Carstairs, even as Giles continued to protest that his being knocked unconscious was nothing.
“It can take a long time to recover from that sort of injury,” said Jackson. “There is nothing I can do to help. Just get plenty of sleep and when you feel disoriented, try to rest.”
By now, the ball guests had all left. Daphne and Carstairs saw a somewhat unsteady Giles to his room. Mr. Moorhouse had waited for his daughter, who was pensive on the trip home. Seeing Giles wounded and dizzy as a result of his battles brought home to her the seriousness and personal danger of the fighting that was so often pictured as gallant and brave.
Chapter XII
Giles was just finishing breakfast the next morning when Steves announced, “Miss Moorhouse.”
Daphne strode in, “I’m so glad to see that you are feeling better, Captain.”
Giles felt that he couldn’t complain about his headache, which was indeed a bit better than it had been, but it still hurt badly. He was also feeling very grumpy, “Good morning, Miss Moorhouse. What brings you here so early?”
“I just wanted to make sure that there was nothing left over from last night that I had to attend to. It’s a gorgeous day, would you like to see the garden? Or maybe you haven’t seen how Mr. Edwards has renewed the Hall yet. But did you have your wound’s dressing changed?”
“No. It didn’t seem necessary.”
Steves was just bringing in some fresh tea for Daphne. “Steves, get me some bandages and fetch the ointment that Mr. Jackson left last night. And some warm water.”
“Oh, Miss Moorhouse. Really, would that be proper? I know that your attending to the bandage would greatly upset the Countess if she heard about it.”
“Oh, all right. Get Carstairs. But Captain Giles, you must make sure that Carstairs uses the ointment generously.”
Steves, getting an unobtrusive nod from Giles, hastened to summon Carstairs.
“Now, Miss Moorhouse, you must tell me all about how our farms are doing,” said Giles.
Daphne launched into a detailed account of the progress that had been made and the present state of her various endeavors, but she did not get very far before Steves returned.
“I have had to have Carstairs woken so that he can attend to your wound, Captain.” The butler said in a most disapproving voice. Steves had classed Carstairs as being Giles nautical equivalent of a valet, and so Carstairs should not be asleep when his master was awake.
“Don’t be upset, Steves. There is no urgency in getting the dressing changed.”
Giles and Daphne continued their discussion until Carstairs appeared looking rather annoyed at having been woken and being required to dress in a rush.
“Carstairs, please change the dressing on the wound on Captain Giles’s arm. And use this special salve. I will wait outside the door. Tell me when you have finished.”
Carstairs complied, even though he and Steves exchanged a look that indicated that they did not appreciate being ordered around by some woman who was not the mistress of the house. When the bandage had been renewed, Carstairs informed Miss Moorhouse.
“How is the wound, Carstairs?” asked Daphne.
“It lo
oks much better than it did yesterday, Miss, when I was rather worried about it. That salve must be doing some good.”
Giles and Daphne resumed their discussion as if there was nothing remarkable about a guest breaking off a conversation to deal with a wound and then continuing to discuss their chosen subject. But they soon realized that to appreciate fully what had already been accomplished and the items that had yet to be done would require their presence at the sites they were discussing.
Nothing felt more natural than to mount their horses and start a tour of the estates. Giles was amazed at how Daphne had all the details of the operations at her finger tips and could point out what had been done and what still needed to be done. It didn’t occur to him to compare it with his own knowledge of any ship which he commanded, even though the same type of complete knowledge was required. Giles also noticed that all the men whom they encountered who were involved in the operations respected Daphne and readily took orders from her. As a man used to commanding other men, he could easily appreciate how successful and how unusual was her ability to get ready cooperation. He rather vaguely realized that what he was observing was leadership that did not rely on the threat of the cat to accomplish its end; he still could not comprehend that it was no more surprising that an intelligent woman could display leadership than that a naval captain should; certainly he could not picture any woman, even Daphne Moorhouse, commanding a ship of war.
All too soon Giles’s headache and slight disorientation returned. They happened to be closer to Dipton Manor than to Dipton Hall at that moment, so Daphne led them to her home. With Giles ensconced in an armchair in the parlor with a cup of tea at hand, Daphne confronted him: “Tell me how you got your concussion.”
“I got hit on the head.”
“I guessed that. How did you get hit on the head?”
Slowly. Daphne dragged the whole story out of Giles, at least as much as he could remember. She was fascinated by the strategy he was outlining as well as with the firing of guns and the explosion that ended the encounter. She was about to pry from Giles the story of how he had received the wound in his arm when her father entered the room.
“Good morning, Captain Giles. I am glad that you were able to participate in the ball last evening even though, I confess, you looked exhausted. And I suppose that my daughter has been tiring you all over again with her agricultural pursuits.
“I have just been seeing Captain Bush. What a wonderful addition to our community he is! And, of course, his mother and sisters. His understanding of ancient warfare is amazing!”
“I’m glad to hear it. I don’t really know his mother and sisters. I met them for the first time yesterday evening.”
“Fine people, fine people! I’m sure that you will enjoy their company, now that they are here.
“Daphne, it is almost time for luncheon. I hope that you have invited Captain Giles to have it with us.”
“Oh dear, I have quite lost track of time. You must have lunch with us, Captain Giles!”
Giles agreed readily. Mr. Moorhouse expertly turned the talk away from agriculture whenever it was about to swamp the conversation, finding out from Giles more about naval life and also steering the conversation towards the society of Dipton, a subject where Daphne could contribute as well as her father. When it emerged, after talk reverted to naval life, that Giles was expecting a summons to the Admiralty any day, Mr. Moorhouse suggested that Daphne and he should invite Captain Giles and Captain Bush to dinner with them, along with Mrs. Bush of course, so that Captain Giles could dine with his friend and meet Mrs. Bush. When Giles protested that he could easily see Captain Bush and his family that afternoon, he ran into firm opposition from Daphne who asserted that he must rest that afternoon, citing the orders of Mr. Jackson. Giles was again feeling very tired, and thought that it would be very pleasant to lie down for a while. Mr. Moorhouse surprised everyone by suggesting that Daphne should invite the Countess to dinner as well.
“Oh, she’ll never come,” protested Daphne. “She will think it is very presumptuous of us to even think of inviting her.”
“Well, let her think what she wants,” replied Mr. Moorhouse. “We should have another woman to balance the party. After all, the Countess was willing to dance with me last night; indeed, we danced together on four occasions. What do you think, Captain Giles?”
“I think it is a good idea. My mother does love being the Countess of Camshire; there is no denying that. But I know that she also finds it limits her contact with people, especially since my father has limited the range of people they can easily see. I think it would be worth finding out where she stands now on her status by inviting her. The worst that can happen is that she will refuse the invitation.”
The invitations were duly delivered, and accepted, somewhat to Giles’s surprise in the case of his mother. The dinner itself was a great success. While they were awaiting the announcement of the meal, Mr. Moorhouse succeeded in drawing out the Countess by talking of the relative charms of Dipton compared with those of Ashbury, where Ashbury Abbey was situated. He had never seen it, of course, but his questioning quite broke the social barriers as Lady Camshire described the gently rolling country in which the Earl‘s estate was located. She was so used to people listening, not to herself but to her title that she found it a welcome relief when Mr. Moorhouse politely quizzed her opinions and even disagreed on occasion about which sort of vista most conformed to the romantic notion of a lovely countryside. This was a pleasant change from her usually stilted conversations and one that made her enjoy the gathering more than any she had attended in a long time.
Captain Giles was equally adept at putting Mrs. Bush at ease. She had never even seen a countess before the ball, and could not imagine how one could converse with such a being. But her son’s former commander, who had been equally terrifying in anticipation, easily got her talking about Harwich, which he had never visited but about which he had heard much. He wasn’t interested in the important society of Harwich, but rather what life had been like in the parish she knew so well. His questions showed no sense of superiority, but simply curiosity about various situations that the person with whom he was conversing might have experienced. He wouldn’t hear a word of gratitude to himself about letting the Dower Cottage to Captain Bush, but did inquire most solicitously on how she found the cottage. Dinner carried on easily with the same gentlemen adept at keeping the conversation going smoothly.
The only difficulty came when Captain Bush turned to Lady Camshire. He was intimidated by talking with a genuine countess. Luckily, Lady Camshire took the matter in hand, and asked Captain Bush about how he lost his hand and his leg. That released Bush’s tongue. Before long, he was using the salt cellar and other table implements to demonstrate how the fight had gone. The subject soon engrossed all the table as Mr. Moorhouse began asking questions and Captain Giles was called upon to elaborate on some points that Bush was not sure about. When Bush’s account faltered, Lady Camshire would restart it with a pertinent question about the next step. Mrs. Bush was fascinated for she had had only the vaguest notions of what a sea battle entailed. Lady Camshire, who had heard many a sea captain recount battle tales, was nevertheless fascinated to hear how her son had conducted a battle. Only Daphne seemed concerned, even overwhelmed, by the account.
“How many were injured besides Captain Bush?” she asked when the tale was finished.
“There were forty on Phoebe, of which twenty-one are permanently disabled. We also lost thirty-five dead, either in the battle or who died as a result of the wounds they suffered. Squirrel lost fifteen dead and twelve wounded. I don’t know how many were lost on Semiramide. But it must have been many more. At one point they were simply throwing the dead overboard,” Giles replied.
“How awful!” breathed Daphne, silencing those who were more likely just to cheer the butcher’s bill. After a few moments, she stood and led the ladies from the room.
In the drawing room, the Countess finally got a chance
to talk to Daphne when Mrs. Bush absented herself for a few moments. She plunged straight into what she was worried about.
“Are you engaged, Miss Moorhouse?”
Though Daphne was startled by Lady Camshire’s directness, she was not intimidated by it. “No, my lady. I am quite content looking after my father. And in any case, there is no one who has asked for my hand.”
“I am astounded to hear it. You seem to be a lady of very varied talents.”
“I do enjoy managing my father’s estate, and helping with Captain Giles’s. That is true, my lady.”
“And children? Do you not want children?”
“That requires a husband, my lady. Dreaming of having children before one has found the right husband would be putting the cart before the horse.”
This was not at all what the Countess wanted to hear, though it seemed clear that, at least so far, Miss Moorhouse was not considering her son a marriage prospect. To make matters worse, she had no idea of how to interest Captain Giles in any of the young ladies who would make a more suitable match than Miss Moorhouse. Daphne, for her part, realized that the Countess was seriously considering the possibility that her son would ask for Daphne’s hand. She had herself never considered the possibility except as a silly fantasy since she could see the merits of her father’s warning that Giles’s status was far too elevated for him to consider her. That is not to say that she had not had daydreams about the subject even though her reason told her that they were ridiculous. Could they have any reality? Maybe they could if the Countess was worried about it.
The separate reveries of the two ladies were interrupted by Mrs. Bush returning and turning the conversation back to the account of the battle that they had just heard. Both mothers were inordinately proud of the roles of their sons in the battle. Daphne could only rejoice that she had lost neither of her new friends before she had even met them. She knew that they had to do their duty, but she could take no delight in the horrors that doing so would entail.
The men did not sit long over their port, and when they joined the ladies, Giles persuaded Daphne to play for them, but only after she had received a promise that he would visit her the following afternoon with his violin. She played with elegance and feeling, even if sometimes the notes were not quite right and some passage work was smeared. When she had played a few pieces and insisted that she knew no more, Captain Bush persuaded his mother to play, and she turned out to be a skilled musician who was a great pleasure to hear.
A New War Page 19
