by Laura Hile
Mercy’s Embrace
Elizabeth Elliot’s Story
A NOVEL IN THREE PARTS
Book 3
The Lady Must Decide
Laura Hile
Copyright © 2010 by Laura Hile.
Epilogue addition © 2018 by Laura Hile.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, contact the publisher at the address below.
www.laurahile.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
The characters Patrick McGillvary, Cleora, Claire, and Ronan McGillvary, the butler, Longwell, and Miss Lytton are creations of Susan Kaye and are used with permission.
Book Layout ©2017 BookDesignTemplates.com
Cover Design by Damonza
Mercy’s Embrace: So Lively a Chase: Elizabeth Elliot’s Story Book 2/ Laura Hile. – 2nd ed.
AISN:
Table of Chapters
1 Every Rag of Canvas
2 Not a Word?
3 Cat and Mouse
4 Look Lively!
5 Once More Into the Breach
6 On Pins and Needles
7 Is It Not Romantic?
8 A Blow!
9 The Water is Wide
10 En Garde!
11 At the End of Resources
12 Round About!
13 A Silent Prayer
14 Heart of the Matter
15 A Sorry Procession
16 Though the Darkness Round Me Close
17 Beyond Salvage and Sinking
18 Hail and Farewell
19 Man Was For Woman Made
20 Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea
21 Mercy’s Embrace
22 A Fair Wind and a Following Sea
About Laura Hile
For Linda, Anna, and Christina Williams
with grateful thanks
1 Every Rag of Canvas
Elizabeth Elliot shifted in her seat, miserably aware of what was to come. At any moment the library door would open and Admiral McGillvary would come in—the man who stood between her father and debtor’s prison! Their last encounter, under the portico at Lady Eleanora’s masquerade ball, was a disaster. She had spoken her mind, and so had he!
And then he had laughed at her. No doubt he would laugh today.
On his massive desk were a pile of documents, the evidence against her father. She was alone in the room. What if she tore up these pages and threw them in the fire? It would then be her word against Admiral McGillvary’s!
And yet Elizabeth hesitated. Perhaps this would be the worst course of action she could take.
So great was her anxiety that she did not hear the click of the latch on the library’s private inner door. This door, designed to resemble one of the bookcases behind the desk, took Elizabeth completely by surprise.
She gave a gasp and backed away from the desk.
In the shadowy opening stood Admiral McGillvary. Her friend, Mr. Gill, who had promised to join her here, was nowhere to be seen.
If the admiral noticed her discomfort, he gave no sign of it. Without hesitation he stepped forward and turned to secure the door. Light from the windows caused the gold on his uniform to glitter.
He then turned to face her fully. “Miss Elliot, I presume?” he said.
The irony was not lost on Elizabeth. How like him to mock her! How like him to pretend that they had never met!
To her surprise, he said nothing more, nor did he appear to be angry. His face held an expectant expression. Of course. He had spoken, and it was now her turn to reply.
“Good day, Admiral,” she heard herself say. “Thank you for consenting to see me.” She was vaguely pleased that her voice did not shake.
“You are most welcome, Miss Elliot,” he said politely. “Won’t you sit down?” He settled into the large chair behind the desk and put in order the papers she had scattered.
He was taller than she remembered, and his shoulders were broader—or perhaps it was only the splendid uniform lending him countenance. She returned to her chair and stole another look. He was better looking than when she’d last seen him, and his eyes were a brighter blue. But what had become of the moustache?
The admiral coughed slightly. “Your father’s account with us has been—shall we say—irregular? I would like to explain the documents you were examining just now.”
A fresh wave of shame rendered her speechless, but Admiral McGillvary did not appear to notice her discomfort. “A loan as large as your father’s,” he said, “unsecured by collateral of any kind, is not a common practice, at least not at Madderly, Kinclaven, and Planque. It was approved by the board of directors, who had assurances from your father’s solicitor as to the solidarity of his income. This error—for indeed, the loan ought never to have been made! —I discovered in the course of an audit.”
He paused, and his voice became thoughtful. “In a way, it was a salutary blow—a reminder that, vulgarity aside, I must oversee my business concerns personally.” He smiled slightly. “Madderly Kinclaven is only one of several enterprises that I own.”
Elizabeth said, “I see.”
But she did not see, nor did she wish to. Admiral McGillvary’s businesses were no concern of hers! He continued talking, and it was all Elizabeth could do to keep from staring at the door. What could be delaying Patrick Gill? But he did not come in and so, reluctantly, she began to listen. Apparently, it was a common practice to give a gratuity to those who brought in lucrative accounts.
She knew what that was—a tip! Would a lending institution offer money like this? Then she heard John Shepherd’s name.
Elizabeth gave a start. “But he was my father’s solicitor—our trusted adviser!”
Admiral McGillvary shot her a look. “Yes,” he said. “That is often the way of it. The man was well-paid for his efforts.”
She did not know where to look, for he was studying her with unbecoming directness. If only Mr. Gill would return! If only she did not blush so hotly!
“I beg your pardon,” she said at last. “You were speaking of my father’s loan. I had no call to interrupt.”
He went on with this explanation. As she listened, Elizabeth became occupied with smoothing the wrinkles from her gloves. It was odd how one’s ears could play tricks. There was something about Admiral McGillvary’s voice that was familiar. She had heard him speak before this, but today there was something more. She took a quick look at him. His head was turned slightly away, allowing a clear view of his profile.
Elizabeth frowned in sudden surprise. Why, when seen from this angle, his nose and chin were very like Mr. Gill’s!
She gave herself a shake. Impossible! The two men were nothing alike! Their colouring might be similar, but that was all. Yet the idea persisted. Again Elizabeth studied them; the resemblance was pronounced. But how could this be?
And then she recalled Admiral McGillvary’s reputation with women. Had his father been the same? Elizabeth felt the blood rush to her face as the truth came home.
She stared at him openly—there could be no mistake. T
he longer Elizabeth looked at him, the angrier she became. She had heard of situations like this among the gentry and nobility. But to have Mr. Gill working in this very house—why, it was unthinkable!
“Excuse me,” she interrupted. “I wonder what has become of my friend, Mr. Gill. It was my understanding that he would attend this meeting with me. Perhaps your secretary could summon him?”
Admiral McGillvary turned. If Elizabeth did not know better, she would say that he looked uncomfortable. And why not, she thought wrathfully. He was not accustomed to people—gently bred people like herself!—speaking of Mr. Gill as a friend!
He rose to his feet and came around the corner of the desk. His hand found a glass paperweight on the desktop. “I, er—see it is time to tell you the truth about Mr. Gill,” he said.
She put up her chin. “I already know the truth, sir! And I think it is infamous of you to treat so fine a person in such a shabby manner!”
He looked genuinely surprised. “I beg your pardon?”
Elizabeth came out of the chair in a graceful movement. “I know everything about it!” she cried. “You needn’t say a word. Your precious secret is no secret at all. Why, it is so obvious it would make a cat laugh!
“I have always wondered,” she continued hotly, “why Mr. Gill was so reluctant to speak of his family or to tell me where he lived. ‘A room in a large house’ is what he said, but he gave no precise location. Why does he have access to the stables here? Why does he come so often on matters of business?”
Admiral McGillvary gave a strained laugh—so familiar to Elizabeth—and then fell silent. That silence stretched taut as a drum. “I daresay the truth is very odd,” he said at last.
“It certainly is! But I am not a green girl, Admiral,” she flung at him. “I know my world—our world! These deplorable things do happen! But have you ever considered that you ought to give the man a private life?”
“A … private life?”
“But no, you are too selfish for that,” she went on. “You must make him your servant. Outrageous!”
The paperweight fell from his fingers and went rolling, unheeded, on the carpet. “Forgive me,” he said, “but I have no idea whom you—”
“Oh, haven’t you?” she cried. “You ought to send him to America to seek his fortune and make a life for himself! But I daresay the thought never occurred to you! He is intelligent and clever. And no doubt he is useful, so you keep him here under your heel! Living and working in this very house!”
“Elizabeth,” said the admiral, “of whom are we speaking?”
“Why, of Mr. Gill, of course,” she cried. “Mr. Gill, your natural brother!”
Admiral McGillvary drew a ragged breath. “My natural—”
Elizabeth defiantly returned his stare. She would not stand by while he insulted and belittled her friend!
His chin began to quiver and his lips twitched. Quickly, he put a hand over his mouth.
She watched him through narrowed eyes. Obviously, he was holding back vulgar, earthy language! A sound escaped his lips—a gurgling, strangled sound. Elizabeth’s chin rose higher. Let him curse and thrash—she did not care! She had spoken her mind, as well she ought.
“My natural—” he gasped, and surrendered to mirth. “Oh my word,” he cried, and convulsed in a spasm of laughter.
“My dear,” he said at last, wiping his eyes, “I salute you! You surpass them all!”
“It was not my intention to amuse you, sir.”
“No other woman in England—” he said, fighting for control. “No other woman in the world, in fact. Never have I found your equal! Did I not know it from the first?”
Another giggle escaped. “My natural brother,” he said, shaking his head. “Wonderful!”
“Kindly recall that you are speaking of a man who is very much my friend. I will not have him abused, though you hate me for it!”
“Hate you?” He sounded thunderstruck. “You are wholly adorable.”
The smile that accompanied these words was so warm that Elizabeth’s heart gave a flutter of pleasure. Immediately she quelled it, cursing her own vulnerability. She had forgotten how charming this man could be. Well, charm would not work with her. She cudgelled her brain for a cutting reply.
However, Admiral McGillvary did not seem to require an answer. He remained where he was, sitting on the edge of his desk and smiling. His blue eyes were bright, like sunlight on water. With that crooked, boyish smile, he looked more than ever like Patrick Gill. The two must be related, but how?
It was then that her conscience smote her; she had no call to be openly churlish. “I am sorry that I spoke out of turn,” she said stiffly. “But you have treated Mr. Gill disgracefully and ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
A dimple appeared on the admiral’s cheek. “Rather, it is he who has treated me disgracefully,” he said. “But no matter. I applaud your ingenuity. However, I beg leave to inform you that Patrick Gill is not my natural brother.”
“Then how are you related? For you must be related. The resemblance is striking.”
“Oh, we are,” he admitted, “though not in the way you suppose.” His smile slipped a bit. “Did it occur to you that he and I have the same Christian name?”
“I know that,” she replied, “but it does not signify! What better way for a mother to disguise her child’s parentage than to name him after a legitimate brother?”
Admiral McGillvary’s chin quivered again, but this time he did not laugh. “I see,” he said. “Yes, that would be a very clever dodge.”
His expression grew more serious. “Elizabeth,” he said. His voice was unmistakably gentle. “Look at me, my dear. Look closely.”
She raised reluctant eyes to his face. His cheeks were flushed, but his gaze did not waver. “You are very near to the truth about Mr. Gill,” he said softly. “Look again.
“The hair, perhaps, misleads you?” he suggested, and he ruffled his smooth locks.
And then she saw it. Her mind struggled to form words. “You—” she rasped. “You are—”
The truth rolled over her like a wave. Admiral McGillvary was Patrick Gill? No, it was impossible. This was some sort of rude joke—it had to be!
Desperately, Elizabeth searched his face. But what was this? His eyes were twinkling—something Elizabeth recognized all too well. That twinkle gave everything away. He was only funning!
She nearly collapsed in relief. This was Patrick Gill, though how he had managed to dress up in Admiral McGillvary’s uniform she could not say. It was an odd jest to be sure, but typical of his unconventional humour. Why he was doing this she did not know—possibly to cheer her spirits? What other explanation could there be?
Pleasure followed relief, for she had handled herself well. That remark she’d made about his natural brother—why, that was excellent! No wonder he had laughed! Yes indeed, she would show him that she knew how to take a joke. To be sure, he would eventually take her to see the real Admiral McGillvary—but for now she would show him that she was nobody’s fool.
~ ~ ~
McGillvary waited anxiously, studying the expressions as they crossed Elizabeth’s lovely countenance. He readied himself for her response. Rage, confusion, tears—he would surely face all! Would she screech? Have hysterics? These, he knew were the weapons of a woman’s warfare; his late wife had used them often enough. His Elizabeth would probably go one better—quite possibly she would strike him! But to suffer at Elizabeth’s hands would be easily endured. He would gladly undergo any affliction she dealt out.
He saw her eyes widen as the truth came home. Any minute now she would realize his true identity. She stood before him, her gaze fastened on his face, her expression uncertain. She swayed a little on her feet. McGillvary readied his arms. If she fainted, he would catch her.
“Look again, dearest,” he said, very low. She was very near to the truth now. He saw her cheeks go pale. Her lips parted.
“Forgive me, Elizabeth,” he was about t
o whisper, but before these words could cross his lips, Elizabeth’s expression underwent a change. Her eyes, which were very bright, suddenly lost their panicked look.
He swallowed and waited. She was thinking, he could see that. His mind was alive with conjecture, racing to outguess her. If he did not know better, he could swear that Elizabeth now looked … sly.
Indeed, her lips curved into a delicious smile. “You are very rich, are you not, Admiral?” she said. She said his title with a mocking lilt in her voice.
He returned the smile, every sense on the alert. What kind of game was she playing? “I am,” he said.
“And my father owes you an enormous amount of money?” She raised an eyebrow coyly. “But then, you have an enormous fortune, have you not? Much more than Mr. Rushworth’s, or so I was told.”
McGillvary folded his arms across his chest. She was up to something. “You are not misinformed.”
She bent to retrieve her fallen reticule and settled herself once again on the leather chair. “We should conduct our business,” she said, “for that is the reason for this meeting.” She shot him a look and removed a grey velvet bag from her reticule.
“Very well,” he replied promptly. “And after, you will join me for luncheon in the yellow drawing room.”
“That would be splendid.”
He gave a start. “It would?”
“Indeed, yes,” she said. “Now then, where shall we begin?”
McGillvary came around the desk, smiling in spite of himself. Gad, she was wonderful! She had recovered her wind and was brazening it out.
“Before we begin,” he said, “allow me to inform you that your jewellery will not stand against this debt.”
Elizabeth grinned, or so it seemed to him. “Really,” she exclaimed in mock horror. “Then what is to be done? I haven’t the means to pay such a debt.” She bit her lip, and then threw him a conspirator’s smile. “It is a whopping big sum, isn’t it?”
