Frankly, he looked on it as loathsome quill-pushing, but he did what he was told since it gave him a certain freedom. He berthed on old Ariadne once more, now full of aniving or transient officers and men, and since he knew the island better than the anivais he turned into an evening guide to the better entertainments, confirming once more his belief that he would make a topping pimp. It continually amazed him how little Warrant and Commission Officers much older than he did not know about women, and how to get them.
There was also a certain delight to be taken in being the Voice of Authority. He was one of Admiral Matthews' bearers of bad tidings and glad tidings. Even if it was proxy power, it was power. Lordly post, captains tensed up when he was piped through the entry port, especially if they had been remiss in their duties. Lieutenants tried to milk him for information almost from the moment he headed aft, and he enjoyed dropping the most obtuse hints for them to ponder while withholding the true import of the messages he carried in enigmatic silence, going about his duties in a splendid new uniform with the supercilious air of a flag lieutenant.
But after about a month it all began to pale. There was no chance for him to make any profits from the lucrative trade in naval stores such as the dockyard people reaped in bribes and graft. He could not visit the deck of some seedily maintained and poorly run warship with her round-shot rusty and her rigging hanging in untidy bights, without wishing to jump in and start kicking a bosun's mate's arse, or giving the quartergunners hell for neglecting their guns. He could not go aboard a smartly run ship just in with prizes, full of tales of derring-do, without envying the shabby but competent demeanor of her midshipmen, who looked upon him as a toy grenadier painted up like a tart.
There was no future ashore for an ambitious, somewhat competent and resourceful fellow such as he, and he was being rubbed up against the fact like a puppy in his piddle.
He went for long rides, until the little mare would breathe as hard as one of those steam machines he had heard about, and his legs ached and grumbled. He continued to practice swordsmanship every time he had free until an old naval cutlass could be swung about like a toy sword and his new hanger did indeed feel light as a feather.
He taught the intricacies of gambling at cards to other midshipmen with a steady income from home, increased his purse. He found himself a doxy in town and paid for her room and his frequent visits, warning her that if he got the pox from her he would have her nose off before the disease did, and was about three-quarters sure that she did not entertain others when he was gone, which was about as good as could be expected from a bawd.
He was not exactly bored. But he was not exactly happy, either. The crowning humiliation of being a shore sailor, no greater than a whip jack, was when Lady Maude decided to sponsor a ball and dinner. Alan was loaned by Sir Onsley to be her clerk and had to suffer the twittering idiocy of Lady Maude and the other naval wives as he did up their shopping lists, their dinner plans, their music choices, and then issue the invitations, copying the same words over and over again in his best round hand. No midshipmen could be spared from the flagship or the dockyard for that duty-it was all his, since he was no loss to the demands of the Navy.
Lucy was there in the background, ignoring him for departing like a thief in the night without so much as a farewell note. Which made it much more pleasant to get away once the invitations were finished and go galloping or rowing to deliver them. The only sop to his feelings was that he was at least invited to attend.
He was tricked out perfectly in his best new blue coat, snow white shirt and waistcoat and breeches that had never known tar or slush, fine silk stockings and new gold-plated buckles on his well-blacked shoes. He might be a low addition to the ball but he thought he glittered properly. Very few other midshipmen had been invited, except for those that could sport "The Honourable" before their names. In the mob of lieutenants, commanders, captains and a commodore or two, civilians took him for some sort of staff person, which was good for his ego; or a servant, which was not.
Admiralty House atop the hill was a sea of candlelight, a rich amber aura most flattering to all, especially the women. The men in their floured wigs looked bronzed as golden oak from the sun, even if half of them spent their lives in countinghouses.
Alan strolled about, sipping at a cold hock. There was still plenty of Greenland ice down in the storm-cellars packed in chaff and straw to last the summer. His hosts had even been so profligate with it as to float large blocks in the punchbowls.
He could see Lucy, the center of attention from a host of young admirers, and some not so young. There was even a pop-eyed commander with the face of a frog off a Sloop of War courting her. Lewrie had to admit that she looked luscious. Instead of her own hair she wore a high-piled white wig, a reddish gold satin gown faced with a pale yellow filigreed and embroidered silk undergown, making her seem older. ’Devilish-fine looking young thing," Keith Ashburn said at his side. Lewrie turned to him. "Hallo, Alan,. how do you keep?’
‘Main well, considering… yes, yes, she is.’
’Must have been a trial to be around her, knowing you, even if you did have the Yellow Jack. ’
‘That's why they ran me off. Thought I was looking a tad too robust to be near such a sweet young tit.’
’Ever try to get into her mutton? Sony.’
’No, I didn't," Alan glowered, irked that he, of all people, would speak of her so casually. "My apologies. But you wouldn't mind if I danced with her?’
‘Not at all." Alan shrugged as though it made no difference to him, but was suddenly queasy with jealousy at the thought of someone else paying court to her, or discussing her like cheap merchandise.
He knew there was no future in it for his career, and knew that her sort of affection would involve marriage. What's more, he knew she was being ravishing to her circle of courtiers to get back at him, just as she had snubbed him earlier, and that his best course of action was to ignoie her and spark someone else for the evening so he would not appear to her to be a foolish cully over a chit of a girl. But he found himself drifting nearer, as though drawn into a maelstrom. ’I throw myself on your mercy, Miss Beauman," Ashburn was pleading in mock seriousness. "Allow me just the one dance this evening.’
’For such gallantry, Mister Ashburn, I shall make it two." She laughed lightly. "Have you met Lieutenant Warner of the Dido frigate? Commander Ozzard of Vzxen? Lieutenant Wyndham of the 12th Foot? Lieutenant Ashburn of Glatton … and Midshipman Lewrie of my uncle's staff?" she concluded, dismissively.
He was drawn into the conversational circle against his will, having stood close enough to Keith to look as if he was with him, and had to suffer the looks of the Commission Officers at his affrontery to poach on their private preserve. But when she needed a fresh cup of punch it was Alan that she drew to her and linked arms with to escort her to the buffets, leaving the others fuming. ’Is it not a beautiful evening for a party, Alan?" she asked as he fetched a fresh cup for her. "It's so exciting… ’
‘Indeed. Everything is lovely," he agreed with a smile. "And does my new gown please you?’
‘I believe that you are the most beautiful young lady present. The gown is magnificent, as you are. ’
‘Why, thank you indeed, Alan," she said, seeming really pleased. "I should not expect such a pretty compliment from someone who would toss me aside so easily.’
’Your uncle, and the Service, required me to leave.’
’But without a word, not a note, not even a hint.. ‘. ’As I said-’
‘You can dissemble so well, Alan," she told him sweetly. "Was I not desirable enough to tempt you to stay?’
‘How tempting you were was the prime reason I had to leave. Do you think Sir Onsley and Lady Maude, Old Isaac, or those other servants who came from Jamaica with you would allow me to pay court to you without your family's approval? I have more respect for you than to do anything to harm your good name," he most courtly lied. ’While Mrs. Hillwood, and that gorgeous Lady Can
tner have no good name to lose?" the coy minx posed. "What do you think I should have done, sneak into your room to bid you goodbye?" he asked, half in jest. "Not at all!" But he had half an idea that she might have entertained just such a fantasy. "You could, however, have considered my feelings at your lack of manners.’
’I sbaIl in future. I should also wish to ask for a dance or two, if you are not too promised already.’
’Ah, Alan…" she said with a wistful adoring smile. "You are so… of course I shall dance with you. In fact, I would be most cross with you if we did not. I migbt remind you that I shall soon be seventeen, not such a little girl to you.’
’Believe me, I have noticed your maturing.’
’I shaIl not always be a gawky girl, and you shall not always be interested in trivial…" She turned away from him to avoid him seeing her distress. ’I am very fond of you as well, Lucy.’
’You shall be a post-captain," she said proudly. "Perhaps even knighted for some act of great bravery." She turned to him and smoothed a lapel for him. "But perhaps when you become a lieutenant.. ‘. ’And the war is over," he added, almost piss-proud at what he was hearing from her. "Pray God it is soon," she agreed hotly. He took her gloved hand and brushed her fingers with his lips. My God, she loves me! he thought wildly. Now there's a new thing. There've been tnills enough glad to see my shillings, but here's an admiral's niece as good as saying she wants to marry me! Not that he was that anxious to marry, but she had the best prospects he had seen since leaving London. Nor was he anxious for the war to end, for how else could he earn prize money, make more of a name for himself, gain that commission that would assure his future? And there were a hundred obstacles in the way; she was a girl, therefore fickle in her affections. Her father could go barking mad at the thought, and most likely had a better-suited young man of her own set in mind already, and it was never up to the girl to choose.
Oh, fond daddys might indulge the whims of a favorite daughter, but if a better match was in the offing in land, entitlements, opportunity for mutual profit or (fond parents' hope of hopes) a link to the peerage, then a salty young swain could go sing for his supper.
I'm being led by my prick, he realized, but also noted that love had to start somewhere, and she did seem genuinely fond of him. She was sweet and gentle, well-spoken-so much more so than most of the squirearchy chaw-bacons in the Indies-and would make a good wife for him, dowry or no. I really am fond of her, too. But Pray God I get a ship soon. She can wait, as I shall have to…
They browsed the buffets, nibbling at the rich and spicy titbits proferred. He could not monopolize her and did not try. She was young and delighted with all the attention she was receiving from even the oldest male guests.
She was seated about midway down the long table at dinner with the middle-ranking folk while Alan was once more down far below. He shared table with a silly blond, chicken-breasted noddy whose sole social skill seemed to be stuttering "how fascinating" whenever anyone else paused for comment. There was a dark girl named Aemilia, daughter of a pair of Country Harrys who peered about the available men with the eyes of hungry ferrets for a suitable match. Had she been by herself, and was he not almost-but-not-quite pledged to Lucy, Alan would have been fascinated by her, for Aemilia was a sleepy young brunette with a chest like a pouter pigeon that put him in mind of a younger edition of Lady Delia Cantner. She was a bit crude for his taste, though, a hearty Midlands girl with a Mumbletonian accent.
He tried to let an infantry ensign take the lead, but he was more interested in the blond noddy, whose parents owned a whacking chunk of Hampshire, it seemed; so while trying to maintain a silent dinner conversation with Lucy uptable by eye and shrug and smile, he also found himself down for three dances with Aemilia Country-Get without knowing just how he had managed it. Her buttock-brokering parents looked nwst pleased.
Lewrie always enjoyed dancing. His French hopmaster had convinced him that women dearly loved a man who could dance well and carry himself gracefully, and would eventually show their gratitude. Most naval officers, having been 'prenticed at age ten or twelve, could not dance a courtly step and only rumble about like a loose cannon in the country dances, so he had a leg up on most of them.
He and Lucy always came back together, after she had been amused by Lieutenant Wyndham, by Ashburn, by Warner and Ozzard and a platoon of panting admirers. Her hand lingered on his arm longer, their fingers held their touch longer, their smiles were shyer and more pleasing. But it was her night, and the most ardent finally got her to go to the card room to wager pennies at Loo or Hazard, and Lucy gave him a backward glance of mock despair and he was left alone.
As he fortified himself with a cup of claret punch Ashburn came across the room to join him. ’I see we have been both outranked and outmarched by those bastards from the Army," Keith said, mopping his sweaty brow. "There's an ocean of mutton here tonight. Keith. Why complain?’
‘Do you and Miss Beauman have some sort of an agreement?" Keith asked, finishing off one cold cup of punch and dipping another. "The sighing and peeking have been making CommanderOzzard's teeth grind most wondrous hard.’
’We have established that we are fond of each other," Alan admitted. "And there is hope for after the war, perhaps. But in this life you may bank on little.’
’God stap me, but you have the best shitten luck," Keith said. "Prize money, some fame, and now Miss Beauman.’
’I was envious of you when you gained your commission.’
’Want to trade?" Keith said sourly. "We shall never stir up the anchors unless the French sail past Cape Shirley, please God they do!’
‘Sir Onsley's a friend to you. You've already moved up to fifth officer from sixth," Alan reminded him. ’But we're not at sea!" Keith groused. ’Aye, I could use a berth myself. Oh, God, Aemilia ChawBacon," Alan muttered, spying the dark girl approaching him from the other side of the salon. "Like to meet a very obliging girl, Keith?’
‘Oh, nice poonts," Keith said. Alan tried to introduce Keith but it was no go, not the fact that he was a Commission Officer, not the fact that his family was rich as the Crown, nor that he was related to just about everyone who mattered. She had Alan down to dance with her at the country dances, and that was that. She was civil, but never took her gaze off Lewrie. He had to take her out onto the floor as the band struck up more lively airs, though he would have much preferred going to the card room to see how Lucy fared.
After half an hour he pushed another claret punch into her and set out to deposit her in the paws of her family, but they could not be spotted. ’Oh, they retired," Aemilia said matter-of-factly. "There was a nice old captain was to see me home but he's had too much to drink. Pemaps you could.. ‘. ’Well, perhaps. Where do your folks live?’
‘On the other side of the island." She beamed. ’I would admire that, Miss Aemilia, but I am on the admiral's staff and have strict orders to stay close should he need me," Alan lied quickly, listening to the happy cries from 1he card room as Lucy won a small pot. Unfortunately, Aemilia had laid her plans too well. Sir Onsley was nearby and saw no reason why Mister Lewrie could not safely escort a young lady home, once Aemilia had wiggled against him pleasantly. One look at her straining bosom, and it was a close thing as to whether he would have traded his flagship for a chance to fondle her bouncers. ’If I could presume upon you to pay my respects to your niece, Sir Onsley," Alan said, almost strangling in his neckcloth at the thought of having to leave, "and to your good lady for a most enjoyable evening.’
Sir Onsley assured him that he would, and there was nothing for it but to escort AemiIia out onto the veranda. The family coach was already gone, but a hired coach was whistled up, Aemilia insisting on a closed one to avoid the cool night air on her daringly bared shoulders.
Damn the Navy, damn, damn, damn, he thought miserably as he handed the girl in and took a seat on the front bench facing her. The coachee whipped up, but was obviously a cautious man on the steep hill road with his team. And
once at the bottom he would not force the horses faster than a brisk walk. It would be two hours to get the girl home, and most likely the same returning. ’Come sit by me so we may talk," Aemilia ordered, patting the upholstery by her side. "The coach will sway on these roads so, we'll be safer… wedged in together.’
He slid over to lump beside her as the coach left the cobbled town streets for a country lane with an uneven surface. There was only a hint of the moon, and the interior of the coach was dark as a boot. ’I know about you midshipmen.. ‘. ’Oh?" he archly queried. ’Won't do nothing to hurt their chances.’
’Urn. I suppose so…" he had to allow. ’My parents're pushing for a good match.’
’I believe I had noticed that at diImer." He sighed. ’So if I wanted me a good match, I'd be having a young captain see me home, wouldn't I have?" she said, turning to press against him. ’Most-like," he said in the dark, trying to slide away. "Nobody wants a midshipman with no prospects.’
’I hardly rate myself as one with no prospects," he fumed, in a pet that he had to be there in the first place, and for being told he was a nobody in the second by a colonial… nobody! "Being a good little girl is such a bore. Ever do it in a carriage?" she whispered, leaning close and laying a kiss on his cheek, all but bouncing with excitement. ’Now look here, that's all fine for you, but if you turn up with a Jack-In-The-Box, where am I?" Damned if I haven't had my fill of these island women. Leading you into promises or pushing you into the bunk like you have no say about things. "Well, don't you know that the blacks know how to stop babies?" she said, stroking his cheeks. "There's half a dozen men with better prospects I could blame it on, anyway.’
Well, if that's so, the whole evening won't be a waste, he told himself. ’I'll have to marry one of 'em sooner or later, but for now, why can't we have some fun?" she said into his ear. She took hold of one of his hands, and forced him to seize a breast. It promised to be as full and heavy and round as he had imagined. "I like doing it in a coach. Ever so nice. So dark and cozy, and the coachee not knowing what's going on, or if he does, he can't do a thing about it, can he? And the people by the side of the road who can't see in while we're having our fun?" Lord, You will remember I was ordered, he sighed. He tossed his hat on the opposite seat and turned to her. Within a minute he had his waistcoat and coat off, and his breeches down. He unbuttoned her gown and played with her truly magnificent breasts as she hauled up her gown and petticoats.
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