A Second Spring

by Carola Dunn

  Nonetheless, and in spite of having fallen asleep leaning against Pirate again, she was very weary by the time a damp, grey daybreak found them approaching Kendal. The road was in bad shape, the many potholes filled with water by recent rains. Ahead rose the high fells, wreathed in mists. To Alicia, they looked like an insurmountable barrier.

  “Must we cross the mountains?” she asked. “Can we not go around?”

  “I am not sure,” Pirate admitted. “We left in such a hurry, I did not bring a road book.”

  On top of their travel through the night, this reminder of their hasty departure from London renewed Alicia’s fears. She was certain someone must be on her trail by now. When they stopped in Kendal to breakfast and change horses, she kept glancing behind her.

  Pirate consulted the postboys. “The other roads north are equally rugged,” he reported to Alicia, “and several miles longer.”

  “Oh, let us take the shortest way!” she cried.

  The twenty-eight miles to Penrith took all day and well into the evening. Where the road was steepest, Alicia and Pirate got out of the chaise and walked, to spare the horses. By the time they reached the Gloucester Arms, Alicia was exhausted.

  Helping her down from the carriage, Pirate looked at her white face and drooping figure and said firmly, “We shall stay here tonight.”

  “How much farther is it to the border?”

  “I shall find out.”

  They went into the inn. Alicia sank onto a hard, cushionless settle, while Pirate spoke to an inn servant. He came back to her frowning.

  “It’s about thirty miles to Gretna Green, an easy road, most of it Roman and straight as a die. So we shall be married tomorrow. But there is a large party of Scots staying in the house, and they only have one chamber free. An attic chamber at that, but I have taken it for you. I shall stay in the coffee-room.”

  “You are as tired as I am, Pirate.” She stood up and took both his hands, gazing up at him earnestly. “You will not sleep properly on a chair. And we are to be married tomorrow.”

  “I shall ask for a pallet and sleep on the floor beside you, then.”

  Alicia gave him a loving smile and repeated, “We shall be married tomorrow.”

  * * * *

  Awaking in Pirate’s arms, Alicia lay quite still so as not to disturb him. Beneath her head, his chest rose and fell steadily. She heard the strong beat of his heart.

  She had not thought it possible to love him more than she already did.

  His body heat kept her warm, although the chamber was chilly. Last night he had forced open the tiny window under the eaves to let fresh air into the small, stuffy room with its low, sloping ceiling. In most of the room, Pirate could not stand upright. He had laughed and said it reminded him of Jerry’s sloop, where he had hit his head on a beam, though he was not tall.

  Just the perfect height, Alicia thought dreamily, snuggling closer.

  Through the open window came the noise of hooves and wheels on the cobbles below, and indistinct voices. The large party of Scots who had taken all the chambers in the inn must be setting out early.

  Early? That was not the dim grey light of dawn. It was broad daylight! Jerking upright, Alicia shook Pirate’s bare shoulder.

  “Pirate, wake up! We have overslept. We must leave at once!”

  He was instantly awake, sitting up and gathering her into his arms for a quick kiss before he jumped out of bed, reaching for his breeches.

  “The chambermaid must have forgotten to call us, with so many others in the house. You are right, Allie, we must be off at once. While you dress, I shall go down and have the horses put to, and ask them to put up some provisions in a basket, to save time. I am ravenous.”

  “So am I.” Meeting his laughing eyes as his head appeared through the neckhole of his shirt, Alicia blushed.

  With a grin, he leant across the wide bed and kissed the tip of her nose. “Don’t be long, sweetheart.”

  “I shall hurry.”

  “Good girl.” He shrugged into his coat, slung his cravat around his neck like a muffler, and dashed out.

  Hastily Alicia dabbled her face and hands with the cold water in the ewer on the washstand. Blessing the simple modern fashions, she dug a clean batiste gown out of her bag and slipped it over her head. Crumpled and creased, it was hardly what she had imagined wearing on her wedding day, but after all, the bridegroom was far more important than her clothes, and she had the right bridegroom.

  Hurry or not, she must look as pretty as she could for him. She picked up her hairbrush and turned to the small looking-glass hanging over the washstand.

  In the mirror, she saw the door latch move. He was back already.

  “I shan’t be a minute,” she called.

  The door swung open and Rupert and James strode in, mud-spattered and weary.

  The hairbrush dropped with a splash into the basin as Alicia swung round, aghast. “What are you doing here?” she cried inanely.

  Head bowed beneath the low ceiling, James crossed to the window, closed it, and perched half-sitting on the sill. Rupert shut the door and lounged against it.

  “Why, Allie,” he said, eyebrows raised in a sardonic look, “what sort of a welcome is this, when your brothers have galloped day and night to the rescue?”

  “But I do not wish to be rescued! There is nothing to rescue me from.”

  “Disgrace,” said James tersely.

  “I shall be married today, and to the son of an earl. That is no disgrace.”

  “If it were going to happen,” Rupert drawled, “perhaps not. But it ain’t. Pendragon has just decamped.”

  Alicia stared at him, uncomprehending.

  “The pirate has weighed anchor and spread his sails.” He shrugged. “Dash it, Allie, he has ridden off hell for leather and abandoned you.”

  “I don’t believe you!” Alicia choked out.

  “Come now, my dear,” said Rupert cynically, “why the deuce should an eligible gentleman lacking only a fortune wed a girl who has not a penny to her name, but a purse-pinched family lurking in the wings? No, no, all our young friend wanted was to take you to his bed.”

  London 1814

  “The sets are all made up long since, Mr. Pendragon,” said Alicia, recovering her countenance, “and the dance is quite half over.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Pirate said ruefully. “I’m not much accustomed to this sort of affair, though no doubt naval officers attend balls when ashore. You will stand up with me for the next, then? And in the meantime, may I sit down?”

  While Alicia was trying to decide what her answers to both questions ought to be, he took the seat vacated by Lady Jersey. She noticed that he moved slightly stiffly.

  “You are wounded?”

  “Nothing to signify, but I thank you for your concern. The hazards of war, you know.”

  Alicia seized upon the neutral subject. “You have been a privateer, I understand. I am not precisely certain what a privateer is.”

  “A privateer is a ship or ship owner who holds a letter of marque,” Pirate explained, “which is a licence from the government to attack the enemy’s shipping in time of war. That is, to harass, sink, or capture both naval vessels and merchantmen.”

  “Is that not what our Navy does?”

  “Indeed, but they must employ many ships in blockading enemy ports, carrying troops, despatches, and dignitaries, and so forth. The privateer does not have those distractions. Thus the government gains fighting ships without cost.”

  “Without cost?” Alicia queried. “But the sailors must be paid?”

  “Oh, your privateer is in the business for the sake of his pocketbook as much as patriotism,” Pirate said with a grin. “Naturally, he prefers to take merchantmen, and as little damaged as possible. The value of the prize, both the vessel and its contents, is divided between the owner and the crew.”

  “So it is sort of half way between being in the Navy and being a pirate? I am glad you attained your childhood go
al in the end.”

  He was suddenly grave. “Yes, but I had no intention...”

  “I hope you took many rich prizes?” Alicia interrupted hastily. Almack’s was no place to delve into the painful aspects of the past, if, as she feared, that was what his gravity portended. In fact, on the whole she wished he would just let sleeping dogs lie.

  “I have done very well for myself,” he replied, cheerful again, but with a determined look which warned her that he did not mean to let the past alone forever.

  It also reminded her that he was now a mature man, to be taken seriously, not the harum-scarum boy she had once believed she knew through and through.

  “I started out as third mate,” he continued, “on the strength of my experience with the Buccaneer. We were soon at war with Spain, when the French conquered the country, and the ship I was in had the great good fortune to fall in with a couple of Spanish treasure ships.”

  Alicia recalled his pirate book. “Galleons full of gold and jewels from the New World?”

  “Remember the picture? They have not changed much. Of course, the contents were bound for French coffers. My share gave me a good start. I worked my way up to first mate, and then the owner outfitted a new ship and made me captain. Can you guess what I named her?”

  “Buccaneer II?” Alicia hazarded. He shook his head, his expression half teasing, half intent, almost anxious. “The Jolly Roger?” she guessed again.

  “No,” he said softly, “I called her Allie-oh.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “Oh, Pirate!”

  He took her hand in both his. He was not wearing gloves, as etiquette required. Alicia recollected that he had always preferred to go without, even when riding or driving. The warmth of his scarred and calloused hands penetrated her thin evening gloves.

  “I don’t know what they told you in Penrith,” he said in an undertone, holding her gaze with the deep sincerity in his green eyes, “but what happened was this. When I went downstairs, they were waiting for me--my two eldest brothers and yours. Before I could utter a single word, they bundled me into a back room, little more than a closet.”

  “No one came to your aid?”

  “They must have paid the innkeeper well, for there was no one about. They flung a coat over my head, so that I could not shout out. Pen and William held me there, while Rupert and James went to fetch you.”

  “They told me you had deserted me,” said Alicia in a low, anguished voice. “That you had taken all you wanted of me and left.”

  “And you believed them?” Pirate’s tone was no less intense for being quiet.

  “I did not know what to think! I wanted to trust you...but my own brothers...and later, you did not come! I kept hoping, until I was married and it was too late.”

  He squeezed her hand, almost painfully. “By then I was far away. While Pen and Will chased us, my father was arranging for the privateer to take me on. It seems he was quite willing for us to wed, but as I had expected, he refused to frank your family. So your father adamantly refused to let you marry me, and insisted that I be removed from the scene until after your wedding to Ransome. There was no scandal?”

  “None that reached my ears, or Ransome’s.”

  “Not his, of course, since he married you. I might have come home then, but it was too late to help you, and, to tell the truth, life at sea suited me very well.”

  “It was what you always wanted,” Alicia said soberly. “I am glad you had that. And I would not have you believe that my marriage was excessively unhappy. Ransome was never unkind. Only somehow we never had anything to talk about together. I was often lonely, though he was as good a husband as he knew how to be.”

  “Had they let us reach Gretna, I would have been as good a husband as I knew how to be, Allie,” Pirate assured her, “but looking back upon my callow self, I am certain I am now capable of being a much better husband.”

  Stunned, Alicia was afraid to believe she had properly understood his meaning. She felt oddly dizzy. At that moment, the dance she had quite forgotten brought her elder daughter to a spot nearby.

  Emily left the ranks of the country dance and swooped down upon her mother. She cast a curious glance at Pirate, who hastily dropped Alicia’s hand.

  “Mama,” she said, her green eyes full of concern, “are you all right?”

  “Yes...,” Alicia faltered distractedly, then gathered her tattered composure about her and said more strongly, “Yes, darling, quite all right. Pray return to your partner, Emma--You are treating him abominably, I vow!”

  Pirate stared after Emily as the girl hurried back to her set.

  “Good lord, she’s mine!” He turned back to Alicia, his face fierce. “Allie, she is mine, is she not?”

  Thank heaven he had kept his voice down, Alicia thought as she nodded, unable to speak. The secret she had concealed so long in her heart was laid bare. There had never been any question in her mind as to who was Emily’s father, from the moment she saw those green eyes.

  But the child was born very nearly nine months after her marriage. If her family guessed, they had never referred to the matter, and Ransome remained in ignorance.

  Conflicting emotions chased each other across Pirate’s expressive features. Alicia had no notion--had never even wondered--how he would feel. She had not expected him ever to discover that he had a daughter.

  “Her name is Emma?” he asked at last.

  “Emily.”

  “She must be nineteen. I missed her childhood,” he said sadly.

  “Unless I miss my guess, she will very soon be betrothed.”

  Pirate sighed, then demanded, “You let her choose her husband?”

  “Yes, of course,” said Alicia. “One forced marriage in the family is sufficient. I believe she has made an excellent choice, as has Frederica.”

  “Ah yes, Spence mentioned you are bringing out two girls. Not twins, I suppose?”

  Alicia could not help smiling at his hopeful tone. “No, Freddie came along a year later. They are very close. There she is.” She pointed out Frederica.

  “A pretty pair,” he said approvingly, “almost as pretty as their mama.”

  “And much better behaved!” Alicia told him, blushing.

  “Looking back, you were quite a tomboy, were you not? Such pluck you had, joining in everything we boys did. Have you any more children? I am well-breeched now, you know. I can stand the nonsense for you and any number of children, and do it in style.”

  That sounded bewilderingly as if he took it for granted they would marry.

  Her head spinning, Alicia babbled, “Ransome left me very well to pass, in spite of bailing out my family--my father and mother and brothers I mean. He longed for an heir, but the estate is not entailed--Oh, no, we had no more children.”

  “Then we shall have to have some,” said Pirate firmly.

  Her cheeks flaming, she whispered, “I am too old.”

  “Fustian! My dear girl, I know to the day just how old you are, so let us have no more of such gammon. My bosun’s wife was just brought to bed at two-and-forty, of a fine, bouncing boy. At any rate,” he added, with a glint in his eye which made her cheeks hotter yet, “I have every intention of trying!”

  “Pirate, how can you say such...”

  “Ah, the music has ended.” He stood up. “Come along, Allie, it is time for our dance.”

  “But, Pirate, it is a waltz!” Alicia protested as her daughters came up to them. “Besides, I am a chaperon.”

  Emily and Frederica looked at each other with the perfect understanding which united them.

  “Go along, Mama,” Emily said indulgently. “You know we only waltz with Lord Ames and Mr. Fairweather. We shall be perfectly safe.”

  “Yes, do, Mama,” put in Frederica. Laughing, she added, “I do not suppose, at your august age, you require permission from a patroness to waltz, but if you do, here is Lady Jersey come to give it.”

  Silence’s quick glance surveyed the four of them with a
vid curiosity, taking in the girls’ amusement, the intriguing Mr. Peter Pendragon’s determination, and Alicia’s blush. Especially the latter. Alicia wondered whether her face would ever feel cool again.

  “My dear Lady Ransome,” said the patroness, a trifle maliciously, “I believe you must have mislaid your fan. May I I lend you mine?”

  “Thank you, Lady Jersey,” Alicia replied with what dignity she could muster, “I have my own here.” She had quite forgotten its existence.

  Pirate took it and opened it for her, every move scrutinized by Lady Jersey. He placed the fan in Alicia’s hand, took her other hand in his, and turned to the patroness.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Oh!” Beneath her flibbertigibbet manner, Lady Jersey was not stupid. “Lady Ransome,” she said, “may I present Mr. Peter Pendragon to you as a desirable partner for the waltz?”

  The music began and, half sure she was dreaming, Alicia moved on Pirate’s arm onto the floor.

  Where he had learnt to waltz, Alicia could not begin to guess. She only knew she felt completely at home and at peace in his arms.

  Until he stopped in the middle of the floor, felt in his pocket, and said, “Deuce take it, I knew I had forgot something. Do you remember, Allie-oh, I once promised you emeralds?”

  “Oh Pirate, when you were a boy!”

  “Have I ever broken a promise to you? The first Spanish galleon I was at the taking of, I asked for a bag of uncut emeralds as part of my share. I have had them cut and set. I did not bring the whole lot with me tonight--there is a necklace, bracelets, earrings, a hair ornament--Ah!” Triumphantly, he fished a small, velvet-covered box from the pocket. “I brought this, in case I struck lucky and found you first try.”

  He opened the box to reveal a ring with a large, deep green emerald. Alicia gasped.

  “I hope it fits,” he said anxiously.

  And right there in the middle of Almack’s dance floor, with waltzing couples coming to an astonished halt all around them, he peeled off her left glove and placed the ring on her finger.

  “Oh Pirate,” she said, misty-eyed, “you always did have to do things differently.”