by Louise Allen
He was staring at her as if at a stranger. ‘Hebe…’
‘No, please, Major, do not be at all embarrassed about it. You forget, I see naval and army officers come and go all the time. I know how they feel, so far from home and loved ones: of course you all flirt. It was just that no one has ever flirted with me before, and that was…special.’ She had to stop talking, it was unbearable, any moment she was going to break down into tears.
Mrs Carlton appeared at the doorway. ‘Hebe, the most extraordinary news! We are to leave Malta, and in only seven days! And, Hebe, Sir Richard says I must marry him on Saturday. Oh, Hebe!’
Thanks goodness, now she could cry. Hebe ran to Sara and took her in her arms. ‘Mama, I am so happy for you, don’t worry, we will manage it all.’ The tears were coursing down both their cheeks, only Hebe knew that hers were of the bitterest unhappiness. ‘And, Mama, you are not the only one with good news. Major Beresford has heard that a proposal of marriage he made before he left England has been accepted. He can marry the lady he loves—is that not wonderful for him?’
Sara turned in her daughter’s embrace with a gasp, but Alex was already picking up his hat and gloves. ‘Mrs Carlton, my felicitations and best wishes for the happy day. If you will excuse me, I am sure you have many arrangements to make and will not wish to be encumbered with visitors.’ He bowed slightly and was gone before either of the ladies could say anything.
‘Hebe! Oh, Hebe darling—’ Sara Carlton took her stepdaughter’s hands in both hers. ‘I am so sorry! How could we have been so mistaken in Major Beresford? Oh, Sir Richard,’ she cried as he came into the courtyard, ‘Major Beresford is betrothed to a lady in England!’
‘The devil he is!’ The Commodore stopped dead in his tracks. ‘I am going directly to find him: he will soon learn he cannot play fast and loose with a young lady, especially one about to become my stepdaughter.’
‘Oh, no, please, Sir Richard, Mama, you are misjudging him, truly you are.’ Hebe clung on to his sleeve and looked at him imploringly. ‘Please do not say anything, I would be so embarrassed. You see, he proposed to Lady Clarissa, but she would not give him an answer and he had no real hope of her anyway, so he believed he was free. And her letter has been following him around for months. We were only flirting, after all. He made me no promises of any kind.’
‘What? Clarissa Duncan, that red-headed daughter of Bolton’s? I knew I had heard some rumour. Well, that at least explains it: I would have been sorry to find I had misjudged the man. Still…’ he patted Hebe’s hand affectionately ‘…it’s a bad business for you, my dear.’
‘No, indeed sir, please do not be believing I have a broken heart or will be wearing the willow for Major Beresford. And I have London to look forward to—a Season at last!’
She appeared to have succeeded in reassuring her mother. Sara Carlton peered closely at Hebe’s wide, tear-soaked eyes. ‘So you are only crying for my happiness?’
‘Yes, of course, Mama. It is so exciting!’
‘There is one other thing, Hebe,’ Sir Richard said slowly, ‘and I hope you will not be disappointed, but my orders take me to a posting on Gibraltar. Your mama will remain there with me.’
‘I am not going to London?’ Hebe could not keep the disappointment out of her voice: there were too many blows this afternoon for her to be able to cope with this, although compared with the news about Alex it was trivial.
‘Indeed you are, dearest.’ Sara took her arm. ‘Let us all go inside and I will explain. Your aunt and uncle Fulgrave will be delighted to have you: your aunt wrote to me only the other week saying that her eldest girl has become betrothed and now she is free she would like you to come and stay and be launched into Society by her. And she has all the right contacts—just think, Hebe, Almack’s, a court presentation, balls!’
‘There is sure to be a suitable couple travelling back to England who can look after you—probably there will be a choice,’ Sir Richard added. ‘With a respectable and capable maid to attend you, I am sure you will find yourself quite comfortable on the voyage back from Gibraltar.’
Hebe realised her stepmother was watching her anxiously. The alternative was to exchange Malta for the far more restricted society and less pleasant climate of Gibraltar. The voyage to England would be an adventure, she told herself firmly.
‘I am sure it will be perfectly all right, Mama,’ she said reassuringly. ‘I am sorry you cannot be in England for my first London Season, but it will be delightful to stay with Aunt Fulgrave. How very kind of her.’
Sir Richard hurried off, back to the pressing business that would fill his days until his departure, promising Mrs Carlton that he would send up a reliable and energetic clerk to assist with all her preparations.
The widow sank down in her chair after he had gone and looked despairingly at Hebe. ‘My dear, so much to be done! My head is in a whirl, what shall we do first?’
‘Obtain your bride clothes, of course,’ Hebe said firmly. ‘And send out the invitations, order the wedding breakfast—or will Sir Richard look after that? Perhaps the Admiral would lend his banqueting hall?’ She jumped to her feet. ‘I am going to fetch some paper and we will make lists. Cheer up Mama, it will all be done in time.’
Chapter Nine
Hebe was right: everything was done in time and only seven days later the new Lady Latham was standing on the harbour side in Dockyard Creek, dabbing her eyes with a scrap of lace and bidding a tearful farewell to the friends who had gathered to see her on her way.
Her stepdaughter was trying very hard to maintain the bright smile that everyone appeared to expect from her. It seemed to occur to no one that she might be sad to leave Malta, and of course, none knew that she felt as though she was leaving her heart behind her.
‘You lucky thing,’ Miss Smithson lamented for the fourth time. ‘A London Season, all the shops, the balls… You are so fortunate, Hebe!’
‘Yes, I am,’ Hebe replied firmly. If she said it often enough she might believe it, and one part of her was looking forward to the new adventure. But she did not view the prospect of weeks at sea with nothing much to think about than Alex Beresford with anything other than the deepest misgiving.
The last week had not been too unendurable during the day at least. There was so much to do, and all the excitement of the wedding, that it was impossible to mope. But Hebe cried herself to sleep night after night, smothering her sobs in her pillow and trying to dry her tears on a crumpled neckcloth. Maria, almost beside herself with excitement once she discovered she was going too as ladies’ maid, kept trying to remove it to wash it, but Hebe would not let her take the sorry-looking rag, not while it retained the faintest scent of Alex.
There had been no sign of him, which was what she expected. She knew he was staying away, not to neglect her, but because, as a betrothed man, it would be wrong of him to give the slightest appearance of courtship, or even flirtation with her. Hebe could only hope he had believed her when she told him her affections were not deeply engaged.
Their luggage was being swung aboard the frigate HMS Audacious in nets, most of it bound for the depths of the hold where it would remain until Gibraltar. Only a few valises could be accommodated in their tiny cabins and Maria was having the time of her life bossing around the sailors deputed to seeing them stowed safely, while giving them the full benefit of her big dark eyes and curvaceous figure.
Sir Richard was sailing as a supercargo, with no command position at all on the sleek warship, but he was already deep in discussion with Captain Wilson. The captain, far from showing either resentment or nervousness at having a distinguished senior officer on board to watch his every move, was eagerly exchanging views on the current state of the campaign against the French fleet.
The first lieutenant came briskly down the gangplank and saluted Sara. ‘Lady Latham, ma’am, we will be sailing within the hour, may I show you to your cabins?’
‘Yes, thank you. Hebe, Maria, come along. Oh, good-bye, Georgiana�
��’ She turned to kiss her friends and stopped with a gasp. ‘Hebe, look, it is Major Beresford.’
Approaching them along the dockside, a porter trundling a laden barrow at his back, was Alex Beresford.
Of course, how had she forgotten that he had expected to be posted back? But on this ship? Oh, please, no, Hebe prayed silently. Alex stopped where a pair of midshipmen were supervising the loading and spoke to them briefly. Hebe held her breath, only too aware that she could not take her eyes off the tall figure. They touched their hats and showed the porter where to leave the Major’s trunk, then called up a sailor to manhandle his cabin luggage aboard.
‘If you ask for the Captain of Marines, sir, I believe you are billeted with him,’ one of the lads added.
The Major thanked him and made for the foot of the gangplank, stopping as he came face to face with the Commodore’s ladies. Hebe suspected he had known they were there all along, but he made a creditable show of pleased surprise. ‘Lady Latham, Miss Carlton! May I help you on board, ma’am?’
His face showed no more than the pleasure to be expected upon coming across a party of acquaintances, but Hebe recognised the bleak, hawk-look in his eyes and shivered. Had he known she would be on this ship? And how did he feel? Possibly he was concerned that she might make things awkward for him by wanting to flirt, Hebe thought grimly. Well, if that was what he feared he would find that Miss Hebe Carlton could be just as cool and polite as he, whatever the circumstances.
With a flustered look at Hebe, Sara took his proffered arm and walked up the gangplank, Hebe and Maria at her heels. They were welcomed by the Captain and Alex melted away after making himself known. She saw him talking to a tall, harsh-featured man in Marine uniform and the two vanished below decks.
One of the midshipmen escorted the ladies down, taking great care that they came down the companionways backwards and holding on to the ropes. Maria tried to run down facing forward, and was hastily put right. ‘No, no, miss! Not like stairs in a house, you’ll soon fall if you do that when we are at sea. Along here, Lady Latham, ma’am, mind your head at the entrance, here we are, ma’am.’ He threw open a door on to a tiny cabin with two bunks, a folding washstand, a few coat pegs and not much else. ‘The First Lieutenant’s cabin, ma’am. He presents his compliments, and says if there is anything he can do to make you and Sir Richard more comfortable, please do not hesitate to ask.’
The lad seemed anxious that her ladyship might be shocked at the tiny space, but Sara had been on a warship before, with Hebe’s father, and accepted the accommodation without a blink.
‘And Miss Latham…sorry, Miss Carlton, you are along here, ma’am, with your maid. The Second Lieutenant’s cabin.’ Hebe and Maria found themselves in an even smaller space with curving walls that followed the lines of the ship.
‘And what happens to the displaced lieutenants?’ Hebe asked, earning a smile for her concern.
‘Well, ma’am, First has Third’s cabin, Second has Fourth’s. They have the senior midshipmen’s mess—that’s me and Wilkins, ma’am, and we have the junior midshipmen’s quarters.’
‘And they have…?’
‘Hammocks with the men, ma’am.’
‘Oh dear, I hope they will not be too uncomfortable.’
‘No fear of that, ma’am, do them good, toughen them up,’ the boy said stoutly with all the confidence of a sixteen-year-old confronted with a charming and sympathetic young lady.
Hebe looked round her new home with interest, while Maria, who had had visions of a cabin much like that to expected from a Spanish galleon of romance, was aghast. ‘Miss Hebe, we cannot sleep here! It is like a cupboard. And what do we do if we want…I mean, all those men…’
Hebe who was exploring, opened what was no more than a wardrobe and disclosed a close-stool with a chamber pot. ‘There you are, Maria, every comfort.’
‘Comfort! Miss Hebe, a lady like you cannot live like this! I do not wish to live like this! How do we wash?’
‘Look.’ Hebe hinged down the pewter washbasin, which was set into a plank. ‘I expect you will be able to get hot water from the galley.’
‘Galley? What is this galley?’
Hebe left the maid lamenting and went to see how Sara was faring. Her stepmother already had her valises open and was shaking out some gowns and trying to decide what to put in the one drawer under the lower bunk and what to leave in the cases.
‘Shall I send Maria to you, Mama? I warn you, she is having the vapours. I think she imagined gilded carving, brocade sofas and great sterncastle windows.’
‘No, thank you, dear, keep her with you. I am used to life on board, and I would rather you had her with you at all times. Not that I have any worries about this ship, it appears a well-disciplined command, with respectful men.’
There was one on board whose behaviour had not been respectful in the past, but Hebe bit her lip and made no comment. Alex Beresford would be taking no liberties with her now.
Her bitter musings were ended by the midshipman again. ‘The Commodore’s compliments, my lady, and we are about to cast off if you wish to come on deck.’
‘Thank you,’ said Hebe. ‘What is your name?’
‘Murray, ma’am.’
‘Then would you tell my maid, please, Murray? She is in my cabin.’
They made their way up, successfully negotiating the companionways, and found the dockside a bustle of activity as the lines were cast off and sailors laboured to coil the dripping ropes on deck.
Captain Wilson walked over and asked them if they would like to come up on to the quarterdeck as the frigate sailed out and they readily agreed. ‘Never go on to the quarterdeck without an officer inviting you, Hebe,’ Sara warned her, low-voiced, as they took their places at the rail, well out of the way of the officers who were shouting orders to the men. The longboats were out, towing the frigate out of Dockyard Creek into the Grand Harbour, and familiar as they were with the scene, both women gasped at this view of it.
‘Dramatic, is it not?’ The First Lieutenant paused beside them, then leaned over to shout at a sailor who had dropped a line. ‘Beg pardon, ma’am. Yes, you can just imagine the Knights’ great fleet at anchor here, or the Turkish ships attacking, when you look at those massive walls.’ He touched his hat and walked on.
Hebe’s gaze followed him and she saw Alex standing alone, hands on the rail, staring down the length of the deck. All at once he straightened and turned to look at her before she could glance away. His eyes were dark and his expression severe, then, as their eyes locked, he smiled at her before turning back to contemplate the view.
Hebe breathed out as though she had been holding her breath, then realised that was just what she had been doing.
Hebe was particularly dreading meal times, for she was sure the Captain would invite his passengers to dine with him each evening, and that was exactly what he did. But to her relief he also invited a selection of his officers every time and Hebe found herself seated between them, and not in a position where she had to make conversation with Alex.
The first three days soon settled down into a comfortable routine. The Captain had a sail rigged in one quiet part of the deck to provide shade for the ladies and the ship’s carpenter produced chairs that were a mixture of armchair and hammock and swung comfortably to and fro with the motion of the ship.
The weather was good and there was enough to watch to prevent the ladies being forced back on the books or sewing they had prudently included in their cabin luggage. Hebe managed to complete the first two chapters of Sense and Sensibility, but more often than not it stayed closed while she watched the sailors climbing high in the rigging, or eavesdropped on the midshipmen’s navigation lessons.
Alex had stopped to exchange a few words with Lady Latham as he passed, but he seemed to spend most of his time with the marines and Hebe overheard snatches of what sounded like a particularly technical discussion of artillery.
The only problem appeared to be that the winds were
unseasonably light and they were not making the progress the Captain had been hoping for. He and Sir Richard disappeared below for a while and emerged to talk to the first mate. All three men appeared anxious, and, following their gaze, Hebe saw banks of cloud massing from the south.
‘Is there a problem, Sir Richard?’ she asked as he paused beside them on his way along the deck.
‘Nothing to worry about, my dear,’ he reassured her. ‘But we might be in for a bit of a blow from an unexpected quarter.’
‘Will that not take us too close to the French shore?’ Hebe queried. She knew they had safely rounded the southern tip of Sardinia but there was a way to go before they had the archipelago of Balearic islands between them and the French coast.
‘Nothing to worry about,’ Sir Richard repeated, but Hebe could not help feeling a little uneasy. At least they did not appear to be in any danger from the French fleet. Sir Richard said they were believed to be close in to Toulon and, given the weather, he did not expect them to be beating south into the teeth of the coming wind. There was the odd brigantine about, causing the masthead lookout to alert the quarterdeck, but everything they sighted was far too small to risk the Audacious’s bristling guns.
But during the night the weather became rougher and Hebe woke to find Maria wailing in terror and the luggage skidding about the floor of the cabin. The whole vessel seemed to be corkscrewing in the most extraordinary fashion.
Hebe struggled out of her bunk, tying her wrapper tight around herself. Maria did not appear to be seasick, merely frightened. Hebe recalled that Sara had some laudanum in her luggage and was wondering if a small dose of that would calm the girl’s nerves when there was a knock at the door. When she opened it Sir Richard was outside, fully dressed.
