HMS Nightingale (Alexis Carew Book 4)

by J. A. Sutherland

  Alexis fought back a smile. It was Coalson and his ilk who were blocking her grandfather’s efforts to change the inheritance laws so that she could inherit his lands, yet he wanted to discuss business with her as a commander of a Queen’s ship?

  Well, let him be hoist on his own petard, then — it is a silly custom.

  “Why, yes, Miss Scudder, let’s,” Alexis said, rising. After a moment the other ladies at the table rose as well. “Mister Coalson, gentlemen —” She nodded to them and strode toward the door, forcing Scudder to scurry ahead of her or lose her place of precedence.

  Twenty-Three

  5 November, Port Arthur, Dalthus System

  Hoist by my own bloody petard.

  Alexis fought back the urge to groan aloud as one of the women in the drawing room, she couldn’t keep them straight as they all spoke the same inane things over and over again, went on about … something. It was lace … or doilies … or lace doilies … or … something. Marie, Alexis noted, was having no trouble at all inserting herself into the conversation and she felt a bit of envy at that. More than inserted, really, as the other girls seemed to find her Frenchness quite exotic and interesting.

  “Do you find it so aboard ship … lieutenant, is it?”

  Alexis jerked her attention back to the conversation and found herself the focus of it.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “my mind was elsewhere.”

  Scudder smiled and Alexis felt there wasn’t so very much friendliness in it as anticipation.

  “We were speaking of the difficulties in training decent help,” Scudder said. “It’s my understanding that ship captains have their own servants, is that true?”

  “It is,” Alexis allowed. “Even aboard so small a ship as Nightingale, I have a cook and a clerk who doubles as my steward. A coxswain also, if I were to choose so. There are more aboard larger ships —”

  “A what?” Scudder asked.

  “A coxswain,” Alexis said. “He would command my boat crew.”

  “I … see. And do you find it as difficult to find competent people for those positions as we do?” Scudder rolled her eyes. “Why some of these indentures have not the slightest idea of how things are done. It simply must be more difficult for you aboard your ship.”

  “Not that I’ve noticed,” Alexis said. She actually had a feeling where this was going, it was something she’d heard murmured about at gatherings before joining the Navy. Her grandfather was one of those who didn’t see the need for numerous house servants, preferring to live simply despite the large number of shares he owned in the colony. “Of course, we’ve always had only the one person to help around the house — been with us for so many years, it’s hard to call her a servant. More like family.”

  “I see,” Scudder said. “I suppose if one isn’t used to a full household staff, it’s far easier to make do with less.” She squinted at Alexis as though seeing her for the first time. “Isn’t it your family who’s making such a kerfuffle over inheritance or some such?”

  “It is,” Alexis allowed.

  “What was that about again?” one of the other girls asked.

  “I heard I’d be forced to go down in the mines like my brothers do,” another said. “Can you imagine?”

  “Ah … no,” Alexis said, “I don’t believe there’s to be any force involved.”

  “Then what is it all about.”

  “Honestly just to change the Charter back to the way it was at the start, where the eldest child, son or daughter, inherits the colony shares.” From Alexis’ view, that wasn’t nearly far enough. She could understand the desire to keep the colony’s power in the hands of those who founded it and not dilute the voting shares over and over with each generation, so stipulating they went to only one person made a bit of sense, but what if the eldest was a blithering idiot.

  “Good lord, that means I’d inherit instead of my brother!” The girl, Alexis had forgot her name, glared at Alexis. “Why on earth would you want that? Running a household’s difficult enough, by far!”

  Alexis eyed the girl, who seemed near tears, and felt her point that the proposal needed to go further might just be proved by this single room.

  “But as it stands,” she said, “someone who wants to is prohibited, just because she’s a girl.”

  “That may be fine for you,” Scudder said, “with your trousers and spending all your time in space locked up with a bunch of common men and your coxswain —” There were a few titters from the group. Marie, who’d been in the midst of it, rose and made her way to Alexis’ side. “— but the rest of us certainly have no interest. Perhaps you ought to just leave well enough alone.”

  “It does seem a bit selfish,” said the girl who’d spoken before.

  “Selfish?” Alexis’ skin felt hot. “Selfish is not allowing someone to do what they’re good at — or worse, stealing a family’s lands because they’ve no son to carry on.”

  “Well, isn’t that exactly what you want to do with this new law? Force us to inherit if we’re the eldest?”

  Alexis drew breath to speak, but one of the other girls broke in.

  “Oh, look at you all — you’ve ventured into politics,” she fairly whispered the word, as though it were somehow obscene. “You’ll be calling for cigars and brandy next.”

  And with that, and no more than a guilty glance or two, the conversation abruptly veered back toward servants and lace-cleaning, as though they were all programmed the same way and someone had flipped the switch. Alexis edged away from the group to a table of after-dinner sweets and stuffed a small cake into her mouth, not caring at all that it was an act far removed from the dainty way the others ate.

  Good lord, is that what I missed becoming?

  If it was, she might have to thank her grandfather even more for the way she was raised.

  Marie raised a cake of her own to her lips and offered Alexis a small smile.

  The girl who’d said politics like a dirty word approached them with a smile. She took a plate with two cakes and took a bite of one of them.

  “You very nearly set them all against you, you know?”

  Alexis bristled. “I rather felt that was the starting point.”

  “They’ve been raised a certain way, told they’d become a certain thing, and seen their futures quite clearly. If one feels one’s life is set — and quite comfortably, come to that — can you imagine change being a welcome thing for them?”

  “For them?”

  “Your grandfather’s proposal is not without supporters. If it were, there’s be no chance for it to even be on the ballot.”

  Alexis raised an eyebrow.

  “And you’re one of those supporters?”

  “Of course, if I weren’t, my aunt’s spirit would likely haunt my dreams.”

  “Your aunt?”

  The girl cocked her head then bit her lip to keep from smiling. “You didn’t catch my name?”

  Alexis flushed. “There were so many, and …”

  She looked back at the other girls, not wanting to say that they all looked the same. The same ridiculous dresses, the same entirely unpractical hair … assemblies, was the only way Alexis could think to describe it. And, in her defense, there had been a great many names all thrown at her at once, and she’d never really gotten to know too many of the other settlers on Dalthus.

  “Alexis,” Marie chided. “We spend weeks on ship together and you name to me every bit — four thousands of ropes and you tell me what each does.”

  “That’s different!” She saw Marie and the girl exchange a look and grin. “It is! First of all, they’re lines, not ropes, a different thing entirely, and there are not four ‘thousands’. It’s not as though Nightingale was a frigate, she has no more than —” She thought for a moment. “— fourteen in the standing rigging and thirty-two in the running. Unless we’re storm-rigged and then it would be —” She caught the other two grinning at her. “It’s different, I tell you.”

  “Lauryn Arun
del,” the girl said, chuckling.

  Alexis flushed. Arundel, her mother’s maiden name — though she’d had little contact with the family as her grandfather avoided them as he did most of the other colonists. Nevertheless, she’d not only failed to recognize her own cousin, she’d ignored her all entire even when introduced at dinner. She closed her eyes and groaned.

  Just as she did so, the door opened and the servants began rearranging the room to face four chairs at the far end.

  “It appears it’s time for music,” Lauryn said, laying a hand on Alexis’ arm. “I hope we can get to know each other more, but simply know there are those who welcome the change your grandfather’s championing.” She nodded to the other women in the room. “There are those who don’t, of course, but you’re certainly not alone.”

  The gentlemen made their way in from the dining room, the scent of brandy and cigars coming along with them. Alexis caught Villar’s eye, wondering what had been discussed and what he’d had to say on it. It was, perhaps, a mistake on her part to have tweaked Coalson and the others by withdrawing with the ladies and leaving Villar there. There was no telling what he might have committed Nightingale to and it might have reinforced to Coalson and the others that Alexis wasn’t to be taken seriously as the ship’s commander.

  It was a bit petty, I suppose.

  She had no immediate chance to speak with Villar, though, as Coalson hurried to unveil his next extravagance. A full quartet of musicians, instruments shipped in from the Core, he assured them, and with no other duties but to play for Coalson and his guests.

  Alexis grimaced. It was one thing to enjoy music, quite another to use it as a display of one’s wealth — and again she wondered at Coalson’s spending. The cost of four indentures and the shipping for those instruments was no trivial matter, and she wondered more where the coin had come from. With the family locked out of the gallenium trade, the Coalson estates had little other than bulk grains for export. Her thoughts turned toward Greenaway and the other ships Doakes had mentioned were missing or overdue.

  The family’s been involved in piracy before, why not still?

  The music went on for some time, Alexis’ thoughts whirling all the while. In a short break between numbers, she excused herself from her seat and made her way to the back of the room, liberating a glass of something from a passing tray. She remained there as the music started again, studying the back of Coalson’s head and those of each of his coterie in turn.

  Villar glanced back, caught her eye, and excused himself from his seat to make his own way back to her.

  “Your Mister Coalson does like his luxuries, sir,” Villar said, sipping appreciatively at his glass. “This is imported from Chuisnes, if I’m not mistaken.” He sipped again. “And I’m not, because the fellow mentioned it three bloody times over the brandy and port.”

  “Was aught else mentioned?”

  Villar glanced around to see if anyone might overhear and chuckled. “Your leaving left them rather flummoxed. Kept trying to start with me over Nightingale’s deployment and intentions.”

  “And your reply?”

  Villar looked at her oddly. “Told them they should take it up with the ship’s commander, sir.” He cleared his throat and looked away. “As it’s no longer my place to say.”

  Some tension in Alexis’ shoulders eased and she felt a sudden guilt at putting Villar in that position. It couldn’t be easy for the man to return to these worlds as a subordinate after commanding Nightingale himself, however briefly.

  “My apologies, Mister Villar, I fear I left you in an awkward position.”

  Villar grinned. “Not at all, sir. That lot was always a bit haughty and demanding of Lieutenant Bensley and myself — nice to see them put out themselves.”

  Movement caught her eye and Alexis saw Coalson making his way toward them.

  “Are you enjoying the music, lieutenant?”

  “It’s lovely.”

  Alexis still couldn’t understand Coalson’s attitude. She decided to address it straight-on, in the hope that he might give something away that would help her understand what game he might be playing.

  “If you’ll pardon my saying so, Mister Coalson, I wasn’t expecting you to extend such hospitality to me. Our past meetings have not been so very cordial, after all.”

  Coalson smiled. “Yes, I remember the tea.”

  Alexis flushed. “I was, perhaps, not at my very best on that day.”

  “Nor was I,” Coalson said. “I was rather callow and entitled, if I remember correctly.” His face sobered. “Coming to head the family has taught me a great deal.” He nodded to her and his lip twitched. “As you may have by withdrawing with the other ladies — my colleagues were quite put out.”

  “Your colleagues, but not yourself?”

  Coalson smiled broadly. “I’ve learned a great deal, as I said. Not least of which is examine why I’m put out by something — the feeling generally means I’ve been in error, I find.” He sobered. “Still, there were those in attendance who feel differently.”

  “I won’t apologize, Mister Coalson.”

  “Nor should you, I suppose. You made your point quite eloquently.” He sighed. “Will you agree to a proper meeting?”

  Alexis shook her head. “I’m afraid I have no more time on this visit. Nightingale must sail and resume her patrol.”

  “When next you return?” Coalson looked as though he honestly wished for such a meeting. “There are issues facing Dalthus for which we need — desperately need, in some men’s minds — the assistance of the Crown. The influx of coin and outsiders, ships gone missing — all of it. It’s not urgent, mind you, but all of these men are young. We’re thinking of the future and how best to reach it.”

  Coalson drained his glass and signaled a waiter for another, refreshing Alexis’ and Villar’s at the same time.

  “Mister Doakes is the Crown representative,” Alexis reminded Coalson.

  “Doakes does a fine job as chandler. These issues are more complex.”

  “Yet you’d speak to me about them?”

  “Why not?” Coalson’s brow furrowed. “Short of a Crown magistrate — and there’s little likelihood the holders will ask for one of those anytime soon — the commander of whatever ship the Navy sees fit to send us is the most influential party we may speak to on these concerns. Oh, we could hope there was a frigate and a full post-captain assigned, but with the war on …”

  He shrugged.

  “We do have a history, your family and mine, Mister Coalson,” Alexis said. She closely, wondering if he’d give some sign he knew what his father and grandfather had done. “One of more than a bit of tea.”

  “Because you killed my father,” Coalson stated flatly.

  Alexis nodded. Beside her she felt Villar stiffen and glance from her to Coalson and back again.

  Coalson took a deep breath and looked at the floor, clearly uncomfortable.

  “You met my father, Lieutenant Carew, more than once. I think it was you, or perhaps your grandfather, who suggested he might be mad, as my grandfather, Rashae, surely was.” He looked up and met her eyes. “Can you imagine spending your every waking moment in a house ruled by such a man? Being raised by him?” He looked away again.

  Alexis blinked. She’d entered Coalson’s house with the expectation that the son was much like the father, and his father before him.

  “Daviel Coalson ruled his house with an iron fist, lieutenant. Much as his father, my grandfather Rashae, did before him. When his gallenium-mining enterprise in the belt was discovered and his boat destroyed, I thought I was free of him. But then word came from his … associates — you know the ones I mean, those pirates and smugglers he dealt with — that he’d survived and was in hiding amongst the Hanoverese.

  “Even from so far away he ruled us. I did what he said still, for fear of those associates and what they’d do to me — or my mother and brothers.” He cleared his throat. “To hear that he’d encountered you again
there, and was presumed dead, was almost too much to hope for … but we’ve not heard from those associates since.”

  Coalson met her eyes and Alexis thought she could see both pain and hope in them.

  “Is he truly gone this time?”

  Alexis nodded.

  “How exactly did he …” Coalson shook his head. “No, never mind, I don’t want to know. Hung, I suppose, as a common pirate.”

  Alexis was just as glad he didn’t want to know. She hadn’t hung Daviel Coalson, despite that being her plan. Instead she’d spaced him in darkspace with his hands bound so he couldn’t dump his air and die quickly. Instead he’d spent hours experiencing the ever-increasing effects of being unprotected in darkspace, feeling his blood and thoughts slowed by the press of dark matter.

  Coalson took a deep breath.

  “I’m free now. My family’s free. I won’t thank you for it. I’m not oblivious to his faults — and they were … many — but, whatever else he was, Daviel Coalson was still my father. Though his actions had consequences which he reaped. In all, I’d prefer to put the matter well behind me — and us.”

  Coalson squared his shoulders and looked her in the eye.

  “I spent my childhood with my every action being judged by him … I’d rather my adulthood wasn’t spent with others judging me by his.”

  Alexis nodded.

  “I can well understand that, Mister Coalson.”

  Coalson smiled tightly.

  “Well, then, that’s enough of this for now, I think.” He nodded to Alexis and to Villar. “I’ll take my leave and return to my other guests. Do enjoy the party.”

  Alexis watched him go.

  “Did you really kill his father?”

  She turned to regard Villar. His brow was furrowed. She grimaced.

  “Twice.”

  It would certainly feel that way to Coalson. She couldn’t imagine what he must have thought, first receiving word that his father had been killed by her in command of Merlin, then the certain word that Daviel Coalson was still alive and in hiding amongst smugglers, and finally that she’d encountered him once again and this time he was presumed dead.