by Laura Hile
Longwell’s face reddened. He shifted the bedclothes to better cover his chest and neck. “Madam, I—”
Lady Russell laughed. “Don’t look so worried! I slept in the chair.” She removed a slice of toast from the plate. “You needn’t offer to marry me in order to save my honour!”
He swallowed and inspected the contents of his cup.
“This brings me to something else. I think that we know one another well enough that in private we might be less formal in our address.”
He looked at her and blanched. “Less formal, milady?”
“Oh dear, this will be a problem. I do not recall your Christian name.”
He thought for a minute. “Less formal,” he repeated. “Were you wishful for me to call you Lady Rusty, ma’am?”
She laughed. “If you like.”
“Because if you were thinking I should call you by your Christian name, a fine thing that would be! What if Ellen heard it?” Longwell shook his head. “All over the neighbourhood it would be.”
Lady Russell dimpled. “And then you really would have to offer for me.”
He shook his head, but his lips curved into a smile. Quickly he took another bite of toast.
“I fear things will get worse before they get better. For my dear, you have no trousers. Therefore I must procure something for you to wear. And you know what that means.” She lowered her voice. “You must tell me your waist measurement.”
Longwell’s face became a mask of horror. “Say it isn’t so, milady!”
“Either you tell me, or I must ascertain your girth for myself.” She eyed him speculatively. “I’d say 44 inches.”
He put down his knife with dignity. “Less, madam.”
“Forty?”
“Lower. Much lower.”
“Very well then, 32 inches.” She smiled broadly, putting her head to one side. “I wonder what sort of clothing I shall find to purchase. There must be a village nearby, though I do not recall seeing it.”
Longwell hitched himself higher. “What has happened to the Mail, milady?”
“Dear me, the Mail left ages ago,” she said. “I had no need of it, since you were here.”
“And so we are stranded,” he said slowly. “Alone.”
“With only the clothes on our backs, yes,” she said. “Or in your case, on the floor.”
“Lord, have mercy,” muttered Longwell.
~ ~ ~
Elizabeth knew it was late, for Elise had come in to stir up the fire ages ago. Now she was back, making a clattering business of placing the flask of hot water. Elizabeth remained in bed with her eyes shut tight. It was no use; sleep would not return. Outside birds were singing, and someone was hammering. There were voices too, and the sound of doors being opened and shut. Elizabeth turned over. A faint smell of smoke hung in the air—smoke from a wood fire, not coal. Then she remembered. Her eyes came open.
Hanging on the wardrobe door was her ruined ball gown. She stifled a groan. Doubtless her dancing shoes were in the same deplorable state. She stretched her limbs, hating the sunlight that streamed through the window panes. Could she not remain where she was? What was the point of getting up to face a day that had already begun so badly?
The point was breakfast, and Elizabeth was famished. And then there was the damage wrought by the fire. Last night she had been so eager to escape notice that she’d run straight to her room. Curiosity now gained the upper hand. Since she could no longer sleep, she must see for herself.
This meant getting fully dressed. She now recalled that tonight was the night of Anne’s dinner; there would be servants working everywhere. Elizabeth sank back onto the pillows. Her eyes would not focus properly to see the clock. The room was too bright!
“Elise,” she called. “Why have you opened the draperies?” But Elizabeth knew why. She had seen the woman’s expression last night.
“Botheration,” she muttered to herself. Everyone in the world was angry with her, it seemed, and the day had only just begun.
~ ~ ~
Sometime later, Elizabeth tiptoed along the passageway. Mary’s bedchamber door was open; Elizabeth stepped inside. The floor beside the bed was charred, as were the legs and underside of the overturned bedside table. The carpet was thrown back, and the bedding was piled in a heap. Items that had been on Mary’s nightstand littered the floor. Among them were a spoon and a water glass, now broken, and Mary’s discarded nightcap.
“It is hardly the best bedchamber, Charles,” said Captain Wentworth’s voice. Elizabeth gave a start. Was he nearby? She strained to place his location.
Captain Wentworth continued speaking, coming nearer. “You are purposely disregarding the hand of Providence in this.” He sounded annoyed.
“I say again, Frederick, if you will not render an account of the damages, I will be forced to estimate them on my own.”
The two of them were coming up the stairs. Elizabeth did not like the tone of Wentworth’s voice, nor did she wish to be caught in Mary’s room. Knowing Wentworth, there would be questions. She had seen the look he gave her last night.
She quickly left the room. There was no time to return to her own, so she slipped into the room adjoining. Mercifully, it was empty. The approaching men made no effort to lower their voices. From her hiding place, Elizabeth heard everything.
“And I say again, that will not be necessary.”
Elizabeth heard footfalls on the bare floor. This meant they were now in Mary’s room.
“Do you see? The burns are only superficial,” said Wentworth. There was a scraping sound; apparently he was moving a piece of furniture. “The floor can be salvaged. It needed a new coat of varnish anyway.”
“The cost of hiring a carpenter I shall pay,” said Charles.
“Certainly not. This is seamen’s work. I have several fellows in mind, as it happens. Reliable men who will be happy to oblige.”
“For pay.”
“Only a little, Charles. There are other jobs for them here, such as refitting the nursery.”
“After my sons have made a wreck of it.”
“They’ve done nothing of the sort, and you know it. Anne would wish to have the nursery redone in any case.”
“The curst truth is that my family has done nothing but inconvenience you since we’ve arrived!” said Charles. “But no more. We attend the dinner tonight, and tomorrow morning we head for home.”
There was a pause. “Please do not argue with me on this point, Frederick. Home is the best place for Mary and the boys, and it is certainly the best place for me.” There was a note of finality in Charles’s voice.
“That would be best, yes.” Captain Wentworth spoke just as somberly. “I thought having her sisters here would be beneficial to Anne, in helping her become established socially. You must admit, Mary is good at that sort of thing.”
“If being a curst gabblemonger can be called good.”
Elizabeth heard footfalls; apparently one of them was pacing. “But I failed to see how wearing her sisters are to Anne.” Captain Wentworth paused. “Also, I did not appreciate how thoroughly Anne dislikes Bath.”
“Would you like us to leave right away? You’ve only to say the word, Frederick. We can be gone by noon.”
“Thank you, but no. Anne thinks I have my heart set on this dinner.”
“Don’t you? Then cancel it.”
“What I ought to do,”—there was a rueful note in Captain Wentworth’s voice—“is take Anne to Kellynch for the summer. And so I shall, unless George and Sophie remain here. As for the dinner, Yee will see to everything. Anne needs only to look beautiful and walk through her duties as hostess. I believe she is looking forward to it. But there is one thing—”
There was a silence. “The thing is,” Captain Wentworth said, “from the beginning of our marriage we have had people in the house.”
“Then reclaim your house, my good man. Boot the guests from the inn!”
“Yes,” said Wentworth, “and you are lea
ving. But there is a sticking point, and with that I will need your help.”
Elizabeth held her breath. She did not like the direction this conversation was taking.
“Lady Russell’s departure has come at an awkward time,” continued Wentworth. “Had she not left the country, I would apply to her for assistance, as she is the most proper person. Charles,” he said, “I realize this is asking a great deal of you and Mary, but would you be willing to host Elizabeth for the spring and summer months?”
Elizabeth pressed her hands to her mouth to keep from crying out. She was to live with Charles and Mary?
“Of course,” said Charles solemnly. “As long as you need.”
“Thank you.” There was a pause, and then Captain Wentworth said, “I would like Elizabeth to leave with you tomorrow.”
~ ~ ~
Longwell climbed in and, with his good hand, pulled the door closed. “A Yellow Bounder is not the height of luxury, milady,” he said, “but it is infinitely preferable to the Mail.”
Lady Russell’s attire was creased and travel-stained, and her limbs ached, but she felt better than she had in days. The coach began to move. “Since we’ve passed through Marlborough,” she remarked, “we ought to reach Bath sometime after sundown.”
“If the weather holds.”
“After that—” Lady Russell paused to sigh. “To say truth, after that I will be at sixes and sevens.”
“A hot bath and a bit of dinner will put you right, milady.”
She smiled. “I refer to my future plans. I do not wish to remain in Bath.”
“And you’ve issues with the bailiff, milady.”
She considered this. “Does it appear that I was aiding and abetting Sir Walter’s escape? I thought so at the time, but now I wonder. Sir Walter did not disobey the law by leaving England, did he? For his debts were paid. Yes, his debts were paid.”
“By you, ma’am,” added Longwell.
“I suppose it is useless to cry over spilt milk. But I wish you will tell me what it is I should do next.”
Longwell cleared his throat. “It is your custom in spring to spend several weeks in the Metropolis, milady.”
“I have been to London this season, thank you.” She gave him a look. “Although my stay was extremely brief, I have no desire to return.”
“Perhaps Mrs. Scoville’s invitation?”
“Nor do I wish to visit Tunbridge Wells.” Lady Russell put a hand to her temple. “I know you are trying to be helpful, Longwell, but you have no notion of what it is like above-stairs. Charlotte Scoville is a charming woman, but she is extremely fond of the sound of her own voice. I have had quite enough of people’s fine opinions, thank you. What I need is peace and quiet.”
“Then it must be the country, ma’am. The baronet will not be in residence to trouble you.”
“So we are bound for Kellynch Lodge. As usual, Longwell, you know best. We spend the night in Bath, and then we will go home.”
This time her sigh was a happy one. “What a wonderful word that is. We are going home.”
17 Beyond Salvage and Sinking
That same afternoon, Charles made his way along the upstairs passageway. Elizabeth’s bedchamber door was open. He could hear voices.
“I hope you’re not planning to take all of those,” he heard Mary say. “Our spare bedchamber cannot hold even one of your trunks, let alone three.”
Elizabeth said something Charles did not catch. He was mindful to keep his feet on the carpet. Mary was not in the best of moods, and he did not wish to be caught by her.
“For you won’t need more than a handful of frocks,” Mary went on. “At Uppercross there is nowhere to go and no one to see, so your finery will be wasted. Unless one considers Papa Musgrove’s Public Day. He holds one every autumn. They are vastly amusing.”
Mary did not bother to disguise the scorn in her voice. Charles sighed.
“I will be with you only until summer’s end,” Elizabeth said. Charles thought she sounded depressed. He could hardly blame her.
“I suppose Captain Wentworth cannot help himself,” said Mary. “He must be tactless. The lowborn are hopelessly tactless. This is what happens when a man is elevated above his station. Imagine, telling Charles it was time for us to leave.”
Elizabeth did not reply. A sound caught Charles’s attention, and he turned. Yee came along the passageway carrying a floral nosegay with trailing silver ribbons. Under his arm was a box wrapped in pink paper. He entered Elizabeth’s room, and Charles heard Mary’s gasp of surprise.
~ ~ ~
“Bless me, who are those for?” There was a long pause, and Yee came out of the room. “Did you order that from Molland’s?” Mary said. “For that’s where the box is from, I know. Their largest assortment of chocolates.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Elizabeth. “Not only has Father left the country, but he made no arrangements for my allowance. Why in the world would I order chocolates when I haven’t a penny to my name?”
“You needn’t snap my nose off. I thought it was a hostess gift for Anne.”
“Which she would then share with you? Don’t be tactless, please.”
“If you did not order it, that means someone else did. Is it a gift for you? But I thought Mr. Rushworth—Oh!” cried Mary. “Have you another admirer? Imagine that.”
There was a pause.
“Is there a card?” said Mary. Elizabeth did not answer.
Charles headed for the landing, grateful for Elizabeth’s patience. She was not the patient sort, but there was no reasoning with Mary. Charles well understood Elizabeth’s response. These days, he often sought refuge in silence.
On the ground floor all was quiet. The dining room was open, and having nothing better to do, Charles wandered in. The chairs had been pushed against the walls to give Yee room to work. The polished mahogany table was magnificent. Yee had aligned the glasses and silver flatware with military precision. On each plate stood a napkin, intricately folded.
Charles stood in silent admiration. There were fourteen guests, he noted. Down the centre of the long table marched three very fine branched candelabrums. Charles smiled to himself. What would Mary say to that? Here was order and method and serenity. This house suited Anne.
Dinners at the Great House, under his mother’s management, were anything but serene. The afternoon would be filled with good-natured squabbles, shooing of servants and children, and general bustling about. His mother was fond of large gatherings and invited as many as her dining room—and household staff—could handle. Anne was different. Her dinner parties would be pleasingly elegant.
The white menu cards and place cards were already in position. Charles circled the table studying these. He and Miss Owen were seated at opposite ends of the table, he noted. This he knew to be Anne’s doing.
Let it go, he told himself firmly. After all, what did it matter? After tonight he would never see Winnie again. The pain of this twisted his heart, but it was not a new pain. At least he would see her. Tomorrow there would be time enough to feel the loss fully. And every day thereafter.
Mary and Elizabeth were placed at different sides of the table, which was an excellent decision. By dinnertime the two of them would likely be at dagger-drawing! Charles considered the men placed on either side of his wife: Captain Benjamin Yates and Admiral Patrick McGillvary.
Charles paused, gazing at the name card. He’d met McGillvary. Wentworth thought the man was courting Elizabeth, but nothing had come of it. Anne obviously shared her husband’s opinion and was doing nothing to further the match. Charles raised an eyebrow. If it wasn’t a match, could it become a match?
He circled the table, thinking. Elizabeth’s dinner partners were Admiral George Croft and Mr. Minthorne. Mary was acquainted with both of these men and considered herself their superior …
Charles glanced over his shoulder. No one was near—this was his chance! He took hold of Elizabeth’s card. An easy exchange, Elizabeth for Mary.
So simple. By the time the change would be discovered, it would be too late.
Charles left the dining room humming a tune and almost collided with Yee, who carried a tray with the floral arrangements. Charles apologized and then realized he was hungry. He took a turn and headed for the kitchen.
Presently Anne came in. “How beautiful,” she said, watching Yee place the flowers. “You have outdone yourself, Yee.” Like Charles, she circled the table. “The menu cards came out very well,” she said. “And Mrs. Barrymore has plenty of room at the corner of the table, thank you.”
“Very good, ma’am,” said Yee. Anne came to a halt by Elizabeth’s place. “Oh dear,” she said and plucked Elizabeth’s card. She walked round the table, frowning. “How odd that Elizabeth’s card is switched with Mary’s. Unless—”
She hesitated and cast a glance at Yee. “Has Captain Wentworth been here?”
“I do not know, ma’am.”
“I see. Thank you.” Anne went out.
Yee placed the final floral arrangement and stood back to survey his handiwork. Satisfied, he then brought the chairs one by one and placed them evenly along each side of the table. When he reached Elizabeth’s place, he stopped and took up her card. Yee glanced over his shoulder and then at the card in his hand. For a long moment he stood there.
Then, with a deft motion, he reached across the table, took up another card, and set it at Elizabeth’s place.
~ ~ ~
How noisy and dirty the wharves were! Indeed, if it had not been for Lord Aldeburgh’s man, Sir Walter would never have been able to locate the Sarabande among the jumble of ships berthed there. As it was, he kept his handkerchief ready, for the air was scented with fish and tar and who knew what else. Sir Walter went with small, mincing steps, shivering at the filthy water that lapped against the sides of the ship.
The second mate was on hand to welcome them. Sir Walter nodded but did not take the man’s hand. What was one to make of so scruffy a fellow? True, he was an officer of the ship, but it was all Sir Walter could do not to stare at the tight shoulders of his ill-fitting coat. The sailor with him, whom the second mate called Robbins, was even worse. He wore floppy, duck trousers, a baggy checked shirt with a black neckerchief tied in a slipknot, and the most ridiculous black hat. It looked as if Robbins had varnished it! Sir Walter clicked his tongue.
