His Spoilt Lady

by Vanessa Brooks

The men passed each other meaningful glances. “What? What is wrong? Tell me!” Linnett demanded, looking from John to the captain, but they both ignored her.

  Captain Pettigrew asked Duncan, “Where are the new crew from?”

  Duncan frowned and said, “Most have sailed with us for some while, but we did press-gang a few men from Plymouth for this voyage.”

  The captain nodded thoughtfully. It was common practice in these times to kidnap men from ale houses and the streets to take aboard ships as ship’s crew. Often these men were bludgeoned unconscious and flung into a hold until the ship was far out at sea.

  Captain Pettigrew turned again to Linnett and said kindly, “My dear, Mrs. Foster I am sure today’s adventure has exhausted you. Perhaps you would like to retire now and leave us to our port.”

  Linnett put her head on one side and smiled sweetly at the captain. “On the contrary, Captain Pettigrew, I am well rested and not at all tired.”

  John stood up and frowned at his wife. “I think, my dear, that you would benefit from an early night tonight, especially after your shock today. Come, I will escort you back to our cabin and then return, if I may, captain, to join you for port.”

  Linnett threw John a filthy look and started to argue, but John marched round the table and non-too gently hauled Linnett to her feet, keeping a firm grip on her elbow. “Come along, my dear,” he said, his voice brooking no discussion.

  The men rose to their feet and bowed; Linnett realised that she had no option but to leave. “Gentlemen,” she said icily as she swept to the door, shaking off John’s hand as she did so.

  John followed behind her stiff, indignant figure. When they arrived at their cabin, he unlocked the door and Linnett marched inside, spinning to face him furiously. “How dare you treat me like that? I am not a child, John, to be put to bed before the adults! That was an interesting conversation, and it concerned me. You had no right dragging me off like that! What on earth must have Mr. Snow thought of your arrogant and rude behaviour?”

  John made no attempt to interrupt Linnett’s tirade of complaints, simply lounging in the doorway, his grey eyes merry, his arms folded, watching her with tolerant amusement.

  When at last she had run out of breath, he said evenly, “My, my, we do have a temper this evening! I must try to remember not to stand too close to the ship’s rail when you are in this sort of mood. I am sure it would not be quite so easy to climb out from the sea as it was from a pond!”

  Then with a grin, John quickly backed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it. Something smashed against the back door and a loud shriek of rage echoed from within. He would let her behaviour go on this occasion; after all, she’d had a nasty fright today, and John suspected that this rage was Linnett’s way of feeling strong and in control of herself again. Chuckling to himself, John pocketed the cabin’s key and went off to join the officers and drink port.

  Over drinks and cigars, the possibility of a French spy being stowed aboard was discussed. It was decided that Duncan Snow should conduct a thorough search below decks as a precaution the following day.

  The days rolled past pleasantly enough and even fell into a routine. John and Linnett would take breakfast together in their cabin, after which they would take a stroll up on deck before returning below for a light luncheon, which was generally set out in the captain’s cabin. In the afternoons, Linnett sewed shirts with thread that the captain had supplied. Sometimes, she and Pat would clear and tidy the cabin. Pat came daily to wash out clothes and clean. He often bought their breakfast to them in the mornings and would empty the slops. John spent most early afternoons with Duncan, as Linnett described the time they spent closeted away, playing sailors!

  John and Linnett would meet up again for tea, and this was a mutually satisfying hour or so in which they generally ended up in the bed, slaking their honeymoon passion. Linnett was amazed at how much she enjoyed John’s attention now, and she more than enjoyed their lovemaking. She was learning about her husband and realised very quickly how easily she could manipulate him using sex to get her own way. Linnett still entertained the hope that she could persuade her husband to return to England and live with her at Lavenstock Hall. She thought wrongly that he had no idea of her thought process, but John was an astute man and was fully aware of Linnett’s plan. While it was harmless, he was happy to indulge her. For the duration of their honeymoon, he was happy to appear to comply with Linnett’s whiles and whims, just so long as she respected him and did as he bid her.

  Linnett awoke one night to a terrible shrieking noise and a sickening rolling sensation. There was a vast storm in progress, and the ship groaned, her timbers screaming under the force of the wind, bucking and dropping as she strained to ride the high boiling sea. Linnett clung to John, who was awoken by her terrified whimpers, and he reassured her and comforted her.

  He begun distracting her, and soon the frenzied elements were blotted out by the internal frenzy of own their lovemaking. When morning dawned, the storm had lessened considerably, but the wind still howled and the ship rolled alarmingly. For the first time since boarding the ship, Linnett felt badly. As the morning went on, she became more and more unwell. Linnett had thought that once she had been sick in a bucket Pat provided, she would start to feel better, but she kept on retching until she lay completely exhausted. John stayed by her side and held a cool damp cloth to her forehead; he was very concerned for his sickly wife. He was so used to her boundless energy and robust good health that he found the sight of her laying limp and white quite terrifying. He berated himself for taking advantage of her fear during the night, using her to slake his own lust, quite forgetting the active role she had played during their coupling!

  Duncan Snow came to see them, along with Pat. “She’s jus’ sea sick, ‘tis all,” Pat shrugged unsympathetically.

  Duncan was more concerned. “I have a draught of powders in my chest,” he told John. “I’ll fetch them. Just pour some wine out into a glass, Pat, ready for my return. The sooner the lass swallows them, the quicker she will recover.”

  As good as his word, he returned promptly and mixed a foul potion up in the waiting glass. John lifted Linnett’s head up, and Duncan held the drink to her lips. Linnett turned her head away stubbornly refusing to drink the stuff.

  “Right then, there’s only one thing for it,” said John, sighing.

  He signalled for Duncan to support Linnett’s head, and he took the glass. He gripped Linnett’s small nose between his finger and thumb, and as soon as she opened her mouth, he tipped the liquid in. She coughed and spluttered, but most of the noxious potion went down her throat. “Good girl,” John encouraged kindly. He mopped up the spilt medicine and made her comfortable. Linnett glowered up at him from the pillows but felt too ill to complain. Duncan and Pat left quietly, gently closing the door behind them.

  Linnett dozed and slept until evening. When she awoke, the horrible moaning wind had dropped, the storm had passed, and the ship rolled gently once again. She felt drained and washed out but much better than she had done earlier in the day. When she sat up, she saw that John sat across the room, reading.

  “Hello. Have you been there all the time I was asleep?” she asked.

  John put his book down, walked to her and sat on the bed at her side. “Of course, darling. I wouldn’t have left you on your own; I’ve been so worried about you! How do you feel now?” John placed his hand on her smooth forehead, checking her for any fever. She felt warm but not feverish. He laid the back of his hand against her pale cheek in a gentle caress.

  Her voice sounded frail when she said, “Like a wrung-out dishcloth and utterly horrible! You absolute beast, making me drink that odious stuff of Duncan’s, it tasted foul!”

  John grinned down at her, and Linnett smiled back; she decided that she liked the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed like that. How could she have ever have feared this man? He was her delightful and most handsome husband, who had brought ecstasy int
o her sheltered life. Her eyes roamed over him, noting the way his dark curling hair fell across his brow. John sat with a leg crossed, an ankle resting over one knee, and Linnett admired his well-muscled thighs and the large bulge where his legs met. She wished she felt a little better.

  Linnett sighed heavily, and John frowned with concern. “Is something wrong sweetheart?” he asked her smoothing back her hair.

  “No, I just hate being ill, I always have done. Talk to me, John; tell me about Boston and your home there.”

  Linnett settled herself back against the pillows and arranged the covers. John was pleased that she had at last asked about his home. He swung his legs up and lay on the bed, pulling her into the circle of his arm. He stroked Linnett’s hair, and she snuggled against him, feeling warm and safe. She could hear the soothing beat of his heart and the deep rumble of his voice as he spoke, telling her of his home and of Boston. John talked of the people he knew and of his friends, and finally, he spoke of his mother.

  Linnett sat upright suddenly. “Your mother is alive?” she asked him, amazed.

  “Why, yes,” said John, surprised, “I assumed that you knew that.”

  “No, I did not. Why did you not tell me this before? Tell me, what is she like?”

  John smiled at his wife’s interested, animated face. She had more colour in her cheeks now. “She is a delightful woman, and I am certain that she will love you, my darling. We have a reasonable-sized, wooden salt box house and a housekeeper to run it.” John planted a kiss on her nose and added, “My mother and your father have been writing to each other since my father died. They plotted our betrothal between them.”

  Linnett couldn’t believe that her father had not mentioned any of this to her. “What is your mother’s name, John?” she asked him curiously.

  “Louise. She is a very brave and sweet lady, and I am sure you two will get on right away,” John told her confidently.

  Linnett sat thoughtfully, “My father did mention the name Louise when a letter came for him once, but I was impatient to go out riding and I just didn’t listen. I suppose after that he didn’t bother to mention her letters to me again.”

  Linnett looked so sad that John said kindly, “Well now, how many children listen when their parents talk of their friends’ news? I for one never know who has had what baby, or whose husband has what illness. I simply cannot keep up with all my mother’s friends and their doings, so why should you?” He quelled the thought that Linnett was far too self-absorbed to listen to anything not directly concerned with herself, but Linnett nodded in agreement.

  “Anyway, it will be nice to have a Mamma. Do you think your mother will continue to run the house?”

  John was reassuring, saying “Well, as I told you, Mrs. Plant is our housekeeper and she is an excellent organiser. She will run the house, but I am sure you could make any changes that you see fit. Mrs. Plant and her husband, Ben, have been with us for some years now.”

  Linnett jolted “Do you know, John, I do not even know how old you are.”

  John chuckled. “Twenty-six, and you are to be nineteen soon, exactly seven years my junior, the perfect age difference for a man and wife, in my view!”

  “Huh! I don’t know about that. Why, sir, you are almost old enough to be my father!”

  Linnett’s teasing earned her a merciless tickling. When they both lay tangled up in the sheets exhausted and laughing, Linnett rolled over and said very seriously, “John I think I may be falling in love with you, and I want to tell you that I am glad now that we married. I just wish that I could tell my father so.”

  John cupped her face in his hands and murmured softly, “I would have no other woman, only you, my sweeting, I love you so very much already. And yet I find a little more to love about you each day that we spend together.”

  He bent and kissed her mouth with tender passion. Pulling away at last, he suggested that Linnett begin a letter to her father that they could send back to England when they arrived in Boston. He fetched her ink and paper so she could make a start.

  The days resumed their familiar pattern once again. The stormy weather had passed, and Linnett felt invigorated and well again due to the bracing sea air. One day while she was on deck, a huge grey and white bird settled on a crosspiece of the sails. The sailors were all very excited because they said this bird was a lucky omen. They fetched nets for trawling fish, and Linnett and John watched in fascination as the net was pulled in some time later, laden with flapping silver fish. The fish flopped and writhed on the deck and the men started to salt them into barrels, leaving a writhing heap of fish to one side.

  When the sailors had moved away, the large bird flew down onto the deck and ate its fill of the fish; Linnett was thrilled to witness this and spoke of little else for days. It also meant that their diet could be supplemented with fresh fish. The chickens had long since been devoured, and the vegetable supply was exhausted. The fish would be a welcome change to ship’s rations.

  One afternoon on a particularly blustery day, Linnett was up on deck with just Pat for company. The sea was a steely grey and “white horses” crested many of the waves that buffeted the ship. Occasionally, waves rose high and broke over the deck. Linnett and Pat were playing with a ball that Pat had made out of wound-up rags. Linnett threw the ball for Pat to catch and it flew high, far over his head. It rolled beyond him and settled at the edge of the ship. Pat laughingly careered after it. He had just reached the ship’s side and was bending down to retrieve the ball, when the ship dipped in that direction and a huge wave broke over him. Silently, he had vanished, swept over the side of the ship and into the high seas. It was as if he had never stood there at all.

  So quickly did the accident happen, that for a few seconds Linnett just stared at where the boy had stood, and then she begun to scream and ran to the side of the ship, frantically looking down into the churning water.

  “Help me! Help, for pity’s sake, will someone help!”

  Her frantic screams bought two seamen to her side, and she waved into the restless sea screaming, “Man overboard! For goodness sake! Do something, now! Pat, oh, Pat.”

  Linnett moaned as the seamen tied a rope to a bulkhead and threw the remaining rope over the side. Duncan Snow came running up; assessing the situation quickly, he told the men to release a rowing boat. The men lowered the boat, and Duncan himself climbed down the loose rope to reach the little vessel, which bobbed about on the swelling sea. Linnett waited, her hand pressed to her mouth to prevent screams escaping. John arrived and put his arm around his wife. “What on earth has happened?” he asked her.

  “Oh, John, dear god, Pat was washed off the deck. He just disappeared into the sea! If only I hadn’t thrown that stupid, stupid ball!” Linnett’s voice rose again to a shriek.

  John gave his wife a reassuring squeeze. “It was not your fault, darling! It was an accident. What are they doing now?” he asked and gestured to the sailors, a number of whom were engaged with the rescue.

  Linnett explained that Duncan was on the sea in the little boat trying to find Pat. Just then, there was a shout and the sailors began slapping each other on the back and laughing.

  “Oh, please god, that means they have found him,” said Linnett fervently, craning her neck to see over the side of the ship.

  John pushed his way through to the front of the crowd of men. “Have they got him?” he asked a midshipman.

  “Ay, look for ee’self,” the sailor said, gesturing over the ship’s side.

  John looked down; the small rowing boat was continually smashed against the side of the ship by the relentless sea. John could see Duncan struggling with Pat’s inert body. He appeared to be tying a rope around the boy’s chest. He waved a signal up to the men, who began to haul the boy up by the rope. Eventually, they pulled Pat up over the ship’s side and onto the deck. He lay there, unmoving. Linnett rushed forward, and the men silently parted, letting her through. She dropped to her knees at the boy’s side and put her hand o
ver his heart; it was beating very faintly.

  “Quickly, John, get him to our cabin.”

  She turned to the nearest sailor and shouted for him to help her husband. John swiftly picked the lad up, not requiring any help, as he was a large, strong man and the boy was slight. Linnett hurried along at his side. Neither of them spared a thought for poor Duncan, who was climbing up the rope to the safety of the ship. He was cheered by the sailors and helped aboard.

  John placed Pat on their bed in the cabin. “Linnett, fetch another blanket quickly. I must get these wet clothes off the boy.”

  Linnett turned away to do as he bid but turned back quickly, as she heard John utter an oath. “What the heck? But, this is no boy! Linnett, come over here,” he called urgently. They both stared down at Pat. John had removed his top, and there she lay with what was unmistakably pair of small but perfectly formed breasts.

  They looked at each other amazed. “Well,” said Linnett dryly, “a Patricia if I am not mistaken! You fetch the blanket and I will undress...her.”

  After removing Pat’s trousers they could both see the triangle of her sex that proved beyond doubt Pat was indeed a Patricia. John threw Linnett the blanket. “Wrap her in this, and when she is decent, I will rub some warmth into her limbs.”

  Linnett did as he asked and minutes later, after a vigorous rub down, Pat started moaning softly. Linnett pulled a clean nightgown from her trunk and pulled it over the girl’s head. They trucked her snugly into the bed and heaped covers over her. As they stood looking down at her, the door opened and Duncan strode in, wrapped in a blanket over his still soaking clothes. “How is the boy?” he asked immediately.

  “You had better see for yourself,” said John, stepping away from the bed.

  Duncan joined them and stared down. Silently, John stepped forward and lifted the covers, and then he parted the nightgown, revealing Pat’s bare chest and proof of her female identity.

  “Good God! He’s a girl? I cannot believe this!” Duncan was extremely shaken. “Are you sure?” he asked Linnett. She nodded and said, “I changed her, and Pat is most definitely a she... all over!”