by Mary Nichols
After three days, she came out of her semi-comatose state to find the lamp had stopped its wild gyrations above her head and the sea no longer pounded at the porthole. And Alex was sitting on the opposite cot, watching her with a smile of infinite tenderness. He had discarded his wig and revealed his own dark hair, somewhat tousled, and he had three days’ stubble on his chin and upper lip.
‘Ah, you are back with us again,’ he said. ‘How do you feel?’
‘A little weak,’ she said. ‘And hungry.’
‘Good, I will have food sent down to you.’
‘It was you, wasn’t it?’
‘Me?’
‘You have been looking after me.’
He smiled. ‘As you so succinctly put it, I am your protector and your jailer...’
‘And my nurse.’ She was mortified to think of what he had had to do. It was far beyond the duties required of a jailer. She looked down at herself and discovered she was in a strange nightshirt. She had been undressed and there was only one person who could have done it. ‘Oh, that you should have had to...’ She stopped, unable to go on for picturing the scene. His eyes on her naked body, his hands touching her, pulling the garment down about her, tucking her into bed. It was not revulsion she felt, but a strange sensation of wishing she could remember it.
He inclined his head in a little bow. ‘I could not leave you to lie in soiled garments. It was my privilege and pleasure to make you comfortable.’
She laughed, still a little weak. ‘A pleasure I do not believe.’
‘Then let us say Captain Brookside was afraid you might die and he would be delivering a dead body to your betrothed and in that event would not be paid,’ he said. ‘Someone had to make sure you lived.’
‘I wish I might know who that mysterious man might be. I have been having such dreadful nightmares about him and they were so real.’
‘I know. You tossed and turned so much I was afraid you would fall out of your cot and hurt yourself.’
‘Do you still maintain you are not he?’
‘I am not he, though he is to be envied.’
‘I should not envy him,’ she said, as some of her spirit returned. ‘He is in for a dreadful shock when I do come face to face with him.’
‘It might be sooner than you think. I am told he is expected to come aboard at Lisbon.’
This was news. It seemed she was not to wait until they reached Calcutta before meeting him. ‘Then what?’
He shrugged. ‘We shall have to wait and see.’
‘And then you will be freed of your duty as protector and jailer and I will be in even worse straits. I have to escape, Lieutenant. If you won’t help me, then I must try alone.’
‘I do not think that will serve. Even if you managed to get off the ship and on to dry land, you will be in a foreign country without money, clothes or escort. It cannot be done.’
She managed the ghost of a smile. ‘Cannot is not a word I recognise, Lieutenant.’
‘If you attempt it, I shall be obliged to prevent it, for your own safety, you understand. Why not wait until the gentleman comes aboard? He might be persuaded to change his mind and take you home.’
‘I wish that could be so, but if he took so much trouble to kidnap me, it is unlikely, don’t you think?’
He was inclined to agree. ‘You can but try. Time enough to think of escape if he refuses.’ He stood up. ‘I will go and arrange for food to be sent down.’
‘I would rather dress and go to the dining room. This cabin stinks.’
He laughed. ‘So it does.’ He pushed open the porthole. A fresh sea breeze drifted in. The sea outside was calm as a mill-pond. It was difficult to believe that only a few hours previously it had been hammering at that same porthole like a demon from hell, which she, in her nightmare, had thought was where she was. ‘I will have it cleaned and aired while you are away. Shall I help you dress?’ This last was said with a quirky smile.
‘No, thank you,’ she said quickly. ‘I can dress in the midshipman’s clothes. I like them and perhaps they will put off my mysterious courtier.’
‘I doubt it,’ he said laconically and reluctantly took his leave. He had discovered, in the last few days, just how sweetly feminine she was, just how vulnerable and just how desirable. He had wondered, as he washed her, and changed the nightshirt several times a day, just how much she knew what was happening. Her naked body, with is rounded breasts and flat stomach, its pearly whiteness had churned his insides into knots. It had needed all his self-control only to do what was necessary to minister to her needs. And he would allow no one to help him. The whole three days he had hardly left her side. Now she was well again, everything would go back to what it was before. But how could it?
He had watched over her as she tossed and turned and held her when she seemed as though she would fling herself out of her cot, speaking softly to soothe her. And as he did so, a great tenderness had welled up inside him and he knew he would do anything to help her, whatever it cost him personally. His vow never to let another woman into his heart was fading fast. It was more frightening than being in a battle. The only way he could deal with it was to banish that thought and concentrate instead on trying to make plans to fulfil his mission. But that was made doubly difficult because he did not know what he was up against.
He made his way to his own quarters where he changed his clothes and shaved off his stubble and, once more presentable, found a seaman to clean Charlotte’s cabin, then made his way to the upper deck. There was little wind and every sail was set in order to make up for lost time. The storm had done extensive damage and the crew were busy mending sails and repairing shrouds. A carpenter was hammering at some damaged superstructure and others were swabbing the decks. He maintained a cool exterior though he was aware of the sniggers behind his back. Lady’s maid and nursemaid were the least of the names they were calling him, but he was also aware there was a certain amount of envy attached to the murmurings. None would dare say anything openly so he ignored them and returned to the duties of a second lieutenant.
The ship was hardly seaworthy which was why the Company had sold it to a private trader. Captain Brookside was barely competent and had kept all the sails at full stretch when it would have been prudent to shorten sail. It had been touch and go whether they foundered in the storm. Alex had tried politely to suggest taking in sail, but had been dismissed curtly. ‘You may sail a ship as you think fit when you have one of your own to command,’ he had been told. ‘I suggest you go and look after our passenger. Her fiancé will not thank us for delivering a pale ghost of the woman he left behind.’
He turned to see a strange man emerging from the lower deck. He was thin as a stick, his face white as paper. This, Alex decided, must be Grosswaite. He walked over to him. ‘Mr Grosswaite, I presume.’
‘Yes, who are you?’
‘Lieutenant Fox, at your service, sir. I hope you are fully recovered.’
‘No, I am not,’ the man snapped. ‘But I can’t stay in that stinking hole any longer.’
‘I will have your cabin cleaned, sir. Would you like to take a turn about the deck while it is done?’ He turned to order a seaman to do it.
Grosswaite, whose legs were decidedly unsteady, walked gingerly, hanging on to the ship’s rail, while Alex walked beside him. ‘I cannot think why anyone would ever put to sea,’ he said. ‘It is nothing short of hell.’
‘Why did you put to sea, sir, if you find it so unpleasant?’
‘Britain is an island, Lieutenant, you cannot go abroad without going to sea, can you?’
‘True, but the shortest crossing is from Dover to Calais—could you not have gone that way?’
‘I did suggest it, but my employer would not hear of it.’
‘Your employer?’
‘Yes.’ He shut his mouth firmly
on disclosing any more and Alex changed tack.
‘You came on board with Miss Gilpin, I believe.’
‘Yes. Unfortunately I have been too sick to attend to her.’
‘No matter. She has been well looked after. I am curious to know why she is not attended by a maid.’
‘Her maid refused to accompany her.’ He gave a hoarse laugh. ‘She obviously has more sense than to trust herself to the ocean, more sense than her
mistress.’
‘What do you mean, more sense than her mistress?’
‘Why, the lady is so anxious to be with her lover, she would not wait for me to find her another maid.’
‘Is that so? There is no accounting for ladies’ whims, is there? Why did she have to run away to be with him? Was he not acceptable to her family?’
Grosswaite turned to look hard at him. ‘You are asking too many questions, Lieutenant. I do not know the ins and outs of it and have more sense than to ask.’
Alex laughed. ‘I meant no harm. I was simply making conversation and curious about the identity of the fiancé she denies any knowledge of.’
‘That is not your business, Lieutenant. I suggest you keep your curiosity to yourself.’
‘I beg your pardon. We will talk of other things. The weather is set fair now and I spy land on our starboard. We will, I think, reach Lisbon on schedule.’
* * *
Charlotte came on deck to see Alex deep in conversation with the hated Grosswaite, and he was laughing. She turned abruptly and went back to her cabin. How could she have been so foolish as to trust him? He was probably even now telling Grosswaite that she was planning to escape when the ship dropped anchor in Lisbon harbour. The snake! He had pretended to be sympathetic to her plight, though she was honest enough with herself to realise he had never said he would help her. She was furious and disappointed and more miserable than she had ever been in her whole
life.
She found a seaman with a bucket of water and a mop swabbing out her cabin. The bedding, including the thin mattress, had been removed and the lanyards which fastened the cot to the bulkhead had been let down, so that it hung flat against the wall to allow him to clean under it. She stood uncertainly in the doorway, her only refuge denied to her.
‘Sorry, miss, I will be finished in the shake of a lamb’s tail.’ He was polite, but she could see he was looking her up and down, taking in her appearance with an appreciative eye. ‘Would you like to wait in the passengers’ saloon until I have finished?’
As far as she knew there was only one other passenger and he was on deck talking to Captain Carstairs, so she made her way to the small saloon below the captain’s cabin. There were one or two books on a shelf and she took one down and began leafing through it, but her mind was not on what she was reading. She lifted her eyes to the ornate window with its coloured glass and saw land on the horizon. It was some way off, but close enough for her to know that in a day or two at the most, they would be turning into the Tagus and making their way upriver to Lisbon. And then she might know what her captors had in store for her.
Supposing she could get ashore and evade them, what then? How did one go from Lisbon back to England? She would need to hide until the Vixen had sailed on without her and then find a ship going in the opposite direction, but without money how was she to pay for that? And in spite of everything that had happened, she was curious about the man who claimed to be betrothed to her. Who was he? Could he be persuaded to take her back to England? Would he demand a huge ransom for returning her, far more than the five hundred guineas originally asked? Grosswaite had that and she did not think for a moment he would share it. That was her answer. She must steal it back!
Was Grosswaite still on deck talking to Captain Carstairs? How long would he be there? She crept out of the cabin and made her way to a cabin further along the corridor from her own, guessing it belonged to her abductor. Thankfully there was no one about. She crept in and bent to open the chest at the foot of the cot. She had hardly lifted the lid when she heard the door behind her open and whirled round to be confronted by Davy with an armful of clean linen. Because he was wearing rope sandals she had had no warning of his approach.
‘What are you doing in here, Miss Gilpin?’ he demanded.
‘I mistook it for my own cabin. It looks exactly
like it.’
‘You will forgive me if I do not believe you, ma’am. If you are up to mischief, it could go ill for you.’
Alex had told her she could trust Davy, so dare she? Would he help her? She took a deep breath. ‘Mr Grosswaite has money belonging to me and I would have it back.’
‘Did you think to persuade him to hand it over?’
‘No. He would never do that. I propose to find out where he keeps it and steal it.’
‘Miss Gilpin, begging your pardon, but that’s madness. He will report the loss to the captain and every man jack on board will be questioned and flogged. You would not want that, would you?’
‘No,’ she said hesitantly as her plan floundered at the first hurdle. ‘Would the captain really do that?’
‘You may depend upon it.’
‘What am I to do, then? I must have money if I am to escape.’
‘Why not ask Ca...Lieutenant Fox?’
‘He’ll not give it to me. He said if I attempted to escape he would prevent me.’
‘And he would be in the right.’
‘Everyone is against me,’ she said, with a sigh.
‘The second lieutenant ain’t against you, ma’am. Neither am I, but you must consider the consequences of what you do, not only for yourself but the lieutenant and all the crew. Please go back to your own cabin. The cot is freshly made up and there is clean water. I will not tell the captain or Mr Grosswaite about finding you here.’
She slipped past him and returned to her cabin utterly dejected. It seemed she was fated to meet her mysterious fiancé, after all...
Chapter Six
Davy had promised not to tell Captain Brookside or Mr Grosswaite, but he had made no such undertaking in respect of Lieutenant Fox, and he lost no time in recounting what had happened to Alex.
‘You did right, Davy,’ Alex said. ‘We can’t have her wandering all over the ship taking matters into her own hands. She will have to be watched more closely.’
‘How can we do that, sir, when we are expected to carry out our proper duties?’
Alex was thoughtful for a moment. ‘I will tell Captain Brookside that she has threatened to take her own life. He will not want that to happen. I fancy he is not being paid until she is safely delivered to this unknown fiancé. Captain Brookside has no great confidence in my seamanship and he knows I looked after her when she was ill. It is a subject that seems to amuse him, so he is bound to delegate the task of watching her to me and I shall ask for you to help me. We must endeavour to keep her happy and entertained until we anchor in Lisbon harbour.’
‘And then?’
‘Much depends on how events unfold. If necessary, we shall have to smuggle her off the ship. There will undoubtedly be a hue and cry when she is missed, so it would be best done just as the ship is preparing to sail again.’ It sounded a simple task as he told it, but he knew it would be far from easy. He smiled suddenly. ‘And I think Miss Gilpin was right. We do not want to leave Grosswaite in possession of his ill-gotten gains, do we?’
Davy grinned. ‘No, sir, the devil we don’t. When you give me leave, I’ll see to it.’
‘Not a word to Miss Gilpin, mind. When our plans are complete I will tell her of them, not before. She is a valiant young lady, but headstrong with it, and is like to scupper them with some ill-considered action.’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’
* * *
Charlotte had become aware of her new situation that evening. Every
where she had gone her footsteps were dogged by Davy Locke. He had even stationed himself outside her door when she retired for the night and he was still there in the morning, curled up on the floor with his head against the bulkhead. She had to step over him to get out and that instantly woke him. He scrambled to his feet. ‘Good morning, ma’am.’
‘Good morning, Davy. Do you usually sleep in the corridor? What is the matter with your hammock?’
‘It’s too crowded and airless below decks,’ he said. ‘And I wanted to be sure you were safe.’
‘Safe?’ She laughed. ‘You mean you wanted to be sure I did not go looking for my money again.’
He had the grace to look ashamed. ‘Orders,’ he said.
‘Yes, and I know whose orders.’
She left him and went in search of Carstairs. He was having breakfast in the mess prior to going on watch. He saw her outside the door when the steward left it open and immediately excused himself and joined her. ‘Miss Gilpin, were you looking for me?’
‘Yes. Why am I being watched?’
‘It is the captain’s orders.’
‘Why?’
‘It is not done to question the mind of the captain, Miss Gilpin.’
Furious with him, she marched away and made her way on to the quarter deck and the captain’s cabin. She was stopped outside by a sailor who tried to prevent her entering, but she pushed past him and opened the door.
Captain Brookside was sitting at a large table studying the charts spread about him. There was a half-empty glass of rum holding down one corner and an inkstand holding down another. He appeared not to notice her.
‘Captain, I would have a word with you, if you please,’ she said.
He looked up, but did not rise. ‘I am afraid I am too busy to speak to you now, Miss Gilpin. Join me for dinner, we will talk then.’ He called out to the sailor to come and escort Miss Gilpin back to her cabin.
Charlotte flung out of the cabin and, ignoring the sailor, made her way to the rail and stared down at the sea. It was crystal clear and she could see rocks with colourful fish darting in and out of them and wondered how far down they were. For a moment she wondered if the ship might run against them and founder. Would that be a good thing or a bad thing for her? She was never called upon to decide because the leadsman was calling out the depth to the first lieutenant on the bridge who gave his orders to the helmsman and they passed the danger without coming to grief.
