“Shall we see him?” Emma Hamilton had a knowing look for Helen. “I clean forgot to tell you. He’s just been made post captain. Our friend told me only yesterday. Yes . . .” She had meant to do so all along. “I think we must see him and offer our congratulations.”
Helen did not answer. She was having difficulty with her breathing, but managed to achieve some kind of control before Charles Scroope appeared. He looked exhausted, anxious, and, she thought, angry. Because she was there? No—absurd. She was imagining things again.
Receiving Lady Hamilton’s congratulations without enthusiasm, Scroope soon proved that his anger had nothing to do with Helen. “Yes. Thank you,” he said with automatic courtesy. “But what a moment to have it happen! I am replaced already on the Gannet and must be reduced to the part of mere supernumerary in tonight’s adventure.” A quick glance accompanied his cold bow to Helen. “I take it Lady Merritt knows?”
“Naturally. She and her husband are to be of our party.”
“And my friend Ricky?”
“That’s just what we were discussing,” said Lady Hamilton impatiently. “Lady Merritt seems dissatisfied with the arrangements I have suggested for the child.”
“And they are . . . ?”
She told him quickly, obviously anxious to get back to her own affairs. His eyes met Helen’s at last when she mentioned Price. “I see,” he said. “Perhaps I might venture a suggestion. I am here with the Admiral’s orders to put myself at your disposal for tonight, since I have no command of my own. Would it not be the most natural thing in the world for me to return to the Palazzo Trevi, now I have been turned out of my ship? And then, if Lady Merritt will trust me, I will be responsible for getting young Ricky down to the mole.”
“Oh, very well.” Lady Hamilton was tired of the subject. “That’s settled then. And now, if you will excuse me, I have my own packing up to do.”
It was more than a hint, and they took it. Outside, Helen turned impulsively to Charles. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“It’s the least I can do.” His tone was quenching. “I take it you have not made Lady Hamilton a party to your suspicions of Price.”
“No. I was afraid it would do more harm than good.”
“I hope you were right.” Again his tone was chilling. “What do you propose to tell him about tonight?”
“Oh, nothing. That’s the easiest part of it. I shall say nothing even to Lord Merritt until we reach the reception. Then, after we have dismissed the carriage, it will be easy, I hope, to persuade him to go with Lady Hamilton’s party.”
“And your baggage?”
my husband it was merely a precaution against an emergency.”
“We have been packed and ready for some days. I told
“So you expect me to bring it, along with Ricky?”
She looked up at him with large, reproachful eyes. “Captain Scroope, I expect nothing of you. But, if you are going to be so good as to bring Ricky . . .”
“I’m sorry,” he said, unexpectedly. “Of course I’ll bring your baggage—and Lord Merritt’s. God knows I’m under obligation enough to you both.”
“Oh, obligation!” Her voice came out more bitter than she had intended.
But the footmen were holding open the great doors at the ground floor of the Palazzo Sessa. He took her arm with formal politeness. “May I have the honour of seeing you home?” And then, on a warmer note. “It might be a good thing to pay a visit to young Ricky, preparatory to abducting him tonight.”
“I suppose it will look like that,” she said a little doubtfully, as his cold hand helped her up into the carriage.
“Very much like it.” He settled himself facing her. “But a minor point at a time like this. If you’ll just give the word to Angelina, you may leave the rest to me.”
“Including Price?”
“Including Price.”
“You won’t hurt him?”
“Not if I can help it. You care?”
“My husband will.”
“So you want him to come too?”
“My God, no. But I hope he won’t want to come.”
The desperation in her voice süenced him, and they made the rest of the short drive without another word. Only, at last, helping her down from the carriage, he said, “You trust me?”
“Absolutely.”
“Thank you.” Still formal, it was a shade less cold.
They found Lord Merritt at home, where he usually stayed these days, since he lived in terror of encountering the lazzaroni. His eyes lit up at sight of Charles Scroope. “Hal” He held out a welcoming hand. “Gannet back. Good.”
“Well, yes and no,” said Helen into Charles’s stormy silence. “Poor Captain Scroope has been promoted out of the Gannet and has thrown himself on our mercy.”
“Oh.” Merritt digested it slowly. “No ship?” And then, hopefully, “Get another one?”
“No,” said Charles ruefully. “That’s the rub. I shall probably have to go back to England to get one. And until then, if I may, once again, trespass on your hospitality, I shall be more than grateful.”
‘Trespass?” said Lord Merritt doubtfully.
“He wants to come and stay, dear.” Helen had never found it so painful to have to explain an unusual word to her husband.
“Oh, I see. Thought trespass was something else. In the Bible. I suppose he can come. Not much use without a ship.” And then with a sigh of relief, “Must go and get dressed. That Turk’s affair tonight. You coming?” he asked Charles.
“No, alas. Mere captains are not invited. If I may, I will stay quietly here and keep my young friend Ricky company. Ah, here he is.” Helen thought it was a relief to him to see Ricky burst into the room. Returning his enthusiastic greeting, he promised that yes, indeed, he would tell him a story at bedtime. “You and I are to stay home together, while your parents go out.”
“Good,” said Ricky.
“Parents.” sad Lord Merritt, and Helen could not decide whether it held a question, and, if so, whether Charles had recognised it. No time to wonder, either. She must change, finish her packing, talk to Angelina . . . She bent to kiss Ricky. “You’ll do everything Captain Scroope says, my darling.”
“Ricky,” said Ricky.
In the tension of planning the escape, Helen had not quite grasped the fact that Ricky and Charles would be dangerously on shore long after she and her husband had been rowed to safety on the Vanguard. As she made her quick change into full dress, she remembered what Lady Hamilton had said. Lord Nelson would see the Hamiltons on board, then return for the royal party. It was only after they were safe on the Vanguard that he would send back for their attendants, and Ricky.
She could not abandon him like that. Not even with Charles Scroope as protector. She was automatically reaching back to unfasten the clasp of the diamonds she had just put on, when a maid brought her a note. It was from Lady Hamilton, who must have realised, with her uncanny perceptiveness, the way Helen’s thoughts would turn. “I count on you,” it read. “If you fail me, fend for yourself.”
Ruthless. Helen tore the note into tiny pieces with hands that trembled, then put the last touches to her appearance. In the nursery, Charles Scroope and Ricky were absorbed in a game of spillikins. Charles looked up and rose. “You’re going now?” Had he too realised the danger to which she was leaving her child exposed? Impossible to explain, and no time for it. It was just one more stone on the mountain of misunderstanding between them.
“Yes,” she said. She must not do anything to make the occasion seem unusual. She bent and kissed Ricky lightly. “Good night, Ricky. And mind you do everything Captain Scroope says.”
“Of course I will,” said Ricky impatiently. “Your turn, sir.”
And that was that. She might never see either of them again. She walked slowly downstairs, head up, swallowing tears, and found her husband waiting for her in the hall, with Price in attendance. “Price has heard a rumour,” he began.
&n
bsp; “Oh, rumours.” She cut him off impatiently. “The town’s full of them. We must go, my dear. I particularly promised Lady Hamilton that we would be in time.”
“Serious rumour.” He followed her sulkily out to the carriage. “Laugh on the other side of your face if they all go off and leave us.”
“Oh, they won’t do that.” He had handed her in; the door was shut; they were alone. “We’re leaving now,” she said.
“Now?” He looked down in amazement at his court dress.
“When we reach Kelim Efîendi’s house. We are meeting the Hamiltons there. And Lord Nelson. Outside. We dismiss our carriages and walk straight to the harbour.”
“Good God.” As always it took him a few minutes to take it in. Then his voice rose almost to a scream. “And Price?”
“And Ricky,” she said dryly. And yet why should she expect him to care about Ricky? “Don’t worry, Captain Scroope makes himself responsible for bringing them.” She had no idea what, in fact, Charles Scroope would do about Price, but it would be foolish to precipitate a scene with her husband.
“Our baggage?” he asked now, on a calmer note.
“Captain Scroope brings that too.”
“So Price was right,” he said with satisfaction. “Confiding in Scroope instead of me. Anything happens to Price, never forgive you. Never. Not sure I won’t go back and stay with them.”
“It’s too late,” she said coldly. “Here we are. And I warn you, as Lady Hamilton has warned me. If we do anything out of turn, we lose our chance of passage on the Vanguard. So, watch yourself.”
“Oh.” He was still digesting this as the footmen let down the carriage steps and opened the door. “Very well.” He alighted and held up his hand to help her.
“Send the carriage home, dear,” she said, her cold hand in his. “Captain Scroope might want to use it later, when Ricky is in bed.”
“Home? Not to wait?” He was dazzled by the attempt to assimilate so much information, and she turned impatiently to the coachman and gave the necessary orders. Servants with flambeaux stood ready on the steps of the house. A small crowd had gathered to see the Turk’s guests arrive. The great door had been flung open as the carriage drew up. But where were the Hamiltons? Could Emma Hamilton possibly have set a false rendezvous and gone off already to safety? She would not believe it. Whatever else she was, Lady Hamilton was a loyal friend. And experience reminded Helen that punctuality had never been one of her virtues.
In the meantime, she must think of a pretext for staying outside those hospitably open doors. “My dear,” she laid a hand on her husband’s arm and felt it tremble, “I have the most horrible feeling that I have forgotten something.”
“Forgotten something? What? Servants waiting. Ought to go in.”
Appalling to be saddled with so inept a fellow conspirator. “That’s the trouble.” At least, to the servants, who could not understand English, it must look like some routine matrimonial misunderstanding. She stood diere in the cold December air, pulled her light shawl more closely round bare shoulders, and looked up at him. “That’s just it,” she drew it out as much as she could. “I can’t for the life of me think. I just have this feeling . . . Something to do with the house? No, I don’t think so. With Ricky . . .” It hurt her to say his name, to think of the risks he must run before she saw him again.
“Lot of nonsense,” said Lord Merritt. “Can’t keep the men waiting with those doors. Cold, too. Best go in.”
“If you do,” she said, “you stay.”
“You won’t come?”
“Of course not!” But what in the world would she do, out here by herself, if he really did leave her? Already the little crowd was beginning to take an interest in their delay, and ribald comments were being passed in the broad Neapolitan dialect. “The Hamiltons are bound to be here any minute,” she said desperately. “And what more natural than that we should wait for them?”
“Not natural at all.” Impatiently. “Lot of nonsense. I’m cold.” He turned towards that welcoming doorway, where, in fact, some kind of argument now seemed to be raging. No doubt the indoor servants were feeling the cold and wanted it shut again.
Well so much the better. She stamped her foot for the benefit of the crowd. It must look like a family quarrel. Easy enough: it was one. “I tell you I’m not going in till they come. I told Lady Hamilton I’d wait.” She said this in Italian for the benefit of the crowd.
“Trust a couple of women! Make a mull of things!” He turned angrily away from her towards the door, only to have it close in his face. This made him angrier than ever. His voice rose to a furious squeak. “Think I’m standing here freezing all night?”
“Thank God,” she said, “here they come.” The familiar carriage had swung into sight, at a most undiplomatic speed. “They were just late.”
Lady Hamilton, swathed in furs, confirmed this. They had forgotten a vital packet and had had to go back for it. “Something my beloved friend could not do without.” Helen never learned what precious trifle it was that had so nearly cost her her safety, if not her life. But now Lord Nelson had joined them; Sir William was sending the carriage away; the great door had swung open again, and Kelim himself had appeared to greet his guest of honour.
“Come,” said Lady Hamilton imperiously, and Helen saw the Turk’s jaw drop in amazement as his guests turned away from him and walked off down the road. The crowd parted for them, laughing and jeering, but puzzled out of action. How long would it last? Helen looked quickly at Lady Hamilton and Mrs. Cadogan. Like her, they were wearing all their jewels. And, for protection, they had only the slight figure of Lord Nelson, the ageing Sir William, and her own hopeless husband. She thought the crowd was beginning to realise this too. Comments on the women’s appearance became more explicit; conjectures as to the little party’s destination more lurid. Helen took her husband’s reluctant arm and closed up behind Lady Hamilton. She, too, was walking a little faster, clutching Nelson’s arm, looming over him, and, inevitably, making him look slightly absurd.
“Ah,” said Sir William. Another party was coming towards them, marching with the brisk casualness of the navy ashore.
“Our preservers.” Lady Hamilton struck an attitude for a moment, then let Lord Nelson hurry her along, surrounded now by a protective screen of his men.
At the quay, the Admiral’s barge awaited them, but the row out to the Vanguard seemed endless to Helen. Time was sliding by. It felt like a nightmare, when every action takes impossibly long to perform.
“I’m sorry we were late, love.” As often, Lady Hamilton had read her thoughts. “But don’t fret yourself. My hero has allowed plenty of time for everything. He fetches my beloved Queen in a boat from the Alcmene. It’s all planned like a naval action. You need have no fears for your Ricky; he’ll be brought away all right and tight.”
“Oh, I do hope so.” Tears were streaming down Helen’s face, and she did nothing about them.
Chapter 22
ON the Vanguard, all was a kind of orderly naval chaos. It had been thought too dangerous to give advance warning of the royal party’s arrival, so that no preparations had yet been made for them. Now, while Lord Nelson hurried off, with Captain Hope of the Alcmene, to fetch his reluctant guests, Lady Hamilton was very much in her element, giving orders for their reception. The Admiral’s cabin must be prepared for the royal ladies, and the wardroom for the King and his sons. Cots must be put up for the princes and princesses . . . Here a difficulty presented itself. Carefully packing the royal possessions in anonymous naval boxes, no one had thought to distinguish cabin necessities. As a result, boxes of treasure cluttered up the Admiral’s apartments; vital cases of bedding had been stowed in the hold. “But I’ve sheets of my own,” said Lady Hamilton. “Come and help me unpack them, love.”
Helen was glad to forget her gnawing anxiety in work. Her husband waylaid her with an anxiety of his own. “Told you,” he said, “if Price don’t come, I’ll not forget it. Or forgive.”<
br />
Helen actually found herself hoping that Charles Scroope would have decided it was easier to bring Price than to leave him behind. But this was a minor consideration beside her gnawing anxiety about Ricky. At this very moment, his life might be ebbing away in some dark street of Naples. It would be all her fault. And, doubly horrible, it would also be a judgement for the anxiety she could not help feeling for Charles Scroope.
“Don’t fret, love,” said Lady Hamilton. “Come and help me make up a cot for the Princess Royal. She’ll be exhausted, poor thing, with the baby so new and her strength hardly back.” There was no doubt about Lady Hamilton’s way with the navy. Things that seemed impossible were achieved with a joke and a laugh; officers who might have resented turning out of their quarters for foreign royalty would do it gladly at the smiling request of the “patroness of the navy.”
“I should hope so,” said Lady Hamilton, when Helen remarked on this. “And the Admiral would have something to say if they did not. I wonder if he has got there yet.”
“Is he going to the palace?”
“Yes. There is a secret passage up from the Molesiglio. Count Thurn meets him at the entrance, and, if all is well, will guide him to the palace where the royal party will be waiting for him. Poor things, what a strange scene for them.”
It was indeed. They came on board half an hour or so later, cold, wet, and exhausted. The Queen subsided almost speechless in Nelson’s own chair; the Princess Royal lay sobbing on his couch, while the wet-nurse suckled her child. The young princes and princesses ran about, amazed at their unusual freedom and at everything they saw, until Lady Hamilton rounded them up and saw them safely into their cots. Up on deck, the King was enjoying himself. “Only think,” said Lady Hamilton, “the King told my hero he was looking forward to good sport in the woods round Palermo. Plenty of woodcock, he says.”
“Good God.” Helen returned to trying to persuade six-year-old Prince Albert that bed was the place for little boys.
“Have you a little boy?” asked Prince Albert, and wondered why the foreign lady burst into tears instead of answering.
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