by Mary Nichols
‘Now, I do believe dinner is ready,’ he said, as Madeleine appeared in the doorway.
While they were eating a dish of salt cod, a chicken and crusty bread, served by Madeleine who seemed to be the only other occupant of the house, her clothes arrived.
* * *
Once the meal was over, she returned to the bedchamber where Madeleine unpacked them for her and tidied them away into the cupboards and drawers, all without uttering a sound. Charlotte presumed she was Portuguese and did not speak English. Nevertheless she tried out her French in an effort to obtain information. If she could make an ally of the girl, it might help. Madeleine seemed to understand her, but her answers were monosyllabic.
They returned to the drawing room to find the earl lounging in a chair, a cigar in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. Opposite him stood Martin Grosswaite. They had evidently been arguing, for Grosswaite looked sullen and the earl angry. ‘Martin has been severely reprimanded for his ill treatment of your father and is ready to apologise,’ the earl told her. He looked hard at Grosswaite, who shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
‘My apologies, Miss Gilpin,’ he mumbled.
‘It is not me you should be apologising to, but my father.’
‘He will do so,’ the earl went on. ‘Just as soon as we are married and reunited with that worthy gentleman.’
‘How long will that take?’
‘Impatient, my dear?’ he queried, his lip curling in a strange smile.
‘Yes, for I think my father will come out himself to rescue me.’
‘All the better, for then he can witness the wedding. In the meantime we will be comfortable enough here until we hear from him.’ He turned to Grosswaite. ‘I’ll have that five hundred guineas, if you please.’
‘My lord, I haven’t got it. It’s been took.’
‘Took—what do you mean, took?’
‘Stolen, my lord, from my locker on the ship.’
‘You are lying.’
‘No, my lord, I am not lying. It is the truth. I went to fetch it this morning before coming ashore and it had gone. You can’t trust anyone these days.’
Charlotte had a good idea who had taken it and was about to say so, when she decided against it. She could use that money herself. All she had to do was find Davy and make him give it to her. How that was to be done occupied her for some minutes and she did not pay attention to the rest of the conversation, until she heard the earl order Grosswaite back on board the Vixen. ‘You will report the loss to Captain Brookside and make sure he knows that he will pay dearly if he does not discover the culprit and have the money returned.’
‘Most of the crew have been allowed ashore,’ the miserable Grosswaite said. ‘It’ll be half spent by now.’
‘No doubt by you.’
‘No, my lord. I haven’t touched a groat. There was nothing to spend it on while we were on the high seas. I was going to bring it to you intact.’
‘Hmm.’ His lordship’s tone was one of doubt. ‘Go back and tell Captain Brookside that he will be held responsible. Not a farthing will he have from me for his services until that money is in my hands.’
‘Yes, my lord.’ He backed his way out.
Charlotte watched him go and then turned back to the earl. ‘Am I to be confined to the house, my lord?’
‘Not at all, but you will not venture out alone. For your own safety, you understand.’
‘It is cooler now, I should like to walk in the garden.’
‘Then we will do it together.’ He put down his empty glass and ground out the last of the cigar under his heel before standing up and offering her his arm. She ignored it and walked out into the garden. The villa was high on the hill and from the viewpoint at the end of the garden, she could see the roofs of the lower town, the steeples of the churches and the harbour crowded with shipping. The river itself wound its way westwards, broadening out towards the sea.
She did not feel disposed to make conversation with him and would have preferred to ignore his presence at her side, but she wanted to learn all she could and had decided that, until she was ready to make her dash for freedom, she would pretend to fall in with his plans. ‘Do you know Lisbon well, my lord?’
‘Tolerably.’ He pointed. ‘The square by the river where we landed is the Terreiro do Paco and the big square where we did our shopping is the Rossio, the centre of the newest part of the town. Up there...’ His arm moved to the hillside on his left. ‘Are the ancient quarters of Alfama and Mouraria and the castle you can see on the heights is St George’s.’ He turned to his right. ‘Over there are the Bairro Alto and Madragoa Districts. The higher parts of the town escaped the worst of the earthquake and remain picturesque. We will explore together, if you are good.’
She consigned all this to her memory for future use. ‘Where have all the ships come from and where are they bound?’ she asked.
‘All over the globe,’ he said. ‘India, China, the Cape of Good Hope, the New World, the Mediterranean.’
‘England?’
‘Yes, undoubtedly some, like the Vixen, come from England.’
‘Are there any going home?’
‘I have no idea, but you can forget that idea. I will take you home when we are married and have had our honeymoon. By that time the gossip over your disappearance will have died down and we will be received with tears of joy by all our friends and relations. You will take you rightful place in society as the Countess of Falsham and I shall be able to live my life as I see fit.’
‘You have forgotten one thing, my lord. You have not ascertained whether I wish to become the Countess of Falsham.’
‘That goes without saying,’ he said, then laughed. ‘Many young ladies would give their right arm to have that title.’
‘And I would give my right arm not to,’ she snapped.
‘Dear me, and I thought we had reached agreement on the subject. I see I shall have to be more persuasive.’
She knew what he meant and her heart sank.
* * *
Alex returned to the Vixen to discover that the earl had taken Charlotte into Lisbon and the captain had no idea when they would be back. The repairs to the ship would take two weeks and he supposed they would return to continue the voyage when the ship was ready to sail again. Apart from those who had to stand watch, the officers had been given leave until it was time to prepare to sail and that included Alex.
He knew he must act before then; the further they went, the harder it would be to effect a rescue and return to England. The trouble was that he was not at all sure Charlotte wanted to be rescued. For two pins he would give the whole mission up and go home, but the memory of Charlotte in his arms, Charlotte sick and clinging to him, Charlotte standing in the stern in her midshipman’s outfit, Charlotte defiant, Charlotte laughing, Charlotte unhappy, would not let him do that. She might pretend to be strong and in control, but that was only bluff. She was young and frightened and still weak from her mal de mer. Besides, he had been commissioned by Mr Gilpin to bring his daughter safely home and he had never yet allowed himself to be beaten by anything he attempted to do. Except once. He was not so green now, not so easily intimidated, but it behoved him to be cautious.
While in Lisbon he had taken two rooms in a respectable boarding house in a quaint old street just below the Castle, and intended to hire a girl to serve Charlotte as a maid and companion when the time came. He wanted to observe the proprieties, though he wondered if it might not already be too late. Had she gone willingly with Lord Falsham? If she had, there was nothing he could do for her.
He went in search of Davy, calling him up from the lower deck where those of the crew still on board were carousing. ‘Have you discovered anything?’ he asked him.
‘No, we rowed them ashore and they got into a hackney and wer
e driven off. Last I saw of it was when it went into the Rossio. I tried following, but I lost it in the crowds.’
‘How did she seem?’
‘Calm. They talked. There was no animosity that I could see. I reckon she was glad to see him.’ He chuckled. ‘She maybe thinks he will rescue her from us.’
‘Maybe she does.’
‘Are we going home, Captain? I don’t like this ship above half. It’s like to break up if we get another tempest like we had coming here.’
‘We cannot go with a job half-done, Davy. Besides, we signed on for the voyage.’
‘So we did, but that don’t signify.’
‘It does, you know. Jumping ship is a crime and you would be hounded by the pressmen and on to another ship before you could take breath.’ He laughed at his servant’s dismay. ‘I got you into this, Davy, and I shall get you out, never fear. But not yet, not until we know what’s afoot between Miss Gilpin and the noble earl. I must go back ashore and endeavour to find out.’ He leaned over the side of the ship and hailed a local boat, containing two men selling fruit to the sailors.
‘You want melon?’ the man in the stern said, holding up a large yellow fruit. ‘Or oranges, very juicy, very sweet.’
‘I’ll buy all you’ve got if you carry me ashore,’ Alex said.
They came alongside at once and the one who had spoken grabbed the ladder. Alex scrambled down into the flimsy craft and was soon being rowed strongly for the steps, where he disembarked. Money changed hands though he did not take the fruit. The men rowed off again well satisfied.
Chapter Seven
Everything had conspired against her and Charlotte felt as low as anyone could go, but not so low as to allow the earl into her bed. When supper was finished and she could no longer keep the conversation going, she made her excuses and retired to her room. Having made sure the window was secured, she heaved a chest across the door and lay on the bed without undressing. It was unbearably hot and she longed to open the window, but dare not.
* * *
An hour after retiring she heard footsteps outside her room. Someone lifted the latch and, finding the door firmly barricaded, laughed softly. ‘Never mind, my dear, there is plenty of time.’
This was followed by a female giggle and the footsteps retreated. A door shut along the corridor and then there was silence. Charlotte breathed a huge sigh of relief and got up to open the window and let in what little air there was. The sky was clear and a full moon lit the scene in a silvery glow. The pale stucco of the nearest buildings stood out starkly throwing long shadows. Somewhere, out of her sight, the river wound its way to the sea. Somewhere down there the Vixen lay at anchor. On board would be the men she had come to know, those who were courteous because it was their nature and those who were polite because they feared the wrath of the captain. Was Captain Alexander Carstairs on board? Why hadn’t she exposed his deception to Captain Brookside? Why had she carried on with the pretence that he was Lieutenant Fox? Why couldn’t she get him out of her head?
She turned and went back to her bed where she lay awake, determined to be gone from there before anyone else was up the next morning. She would go to the British Consul and tell him her story; he was the obvious one to help her.
* * *
As soon as it was light enough to see, she tidied her clothes and, listening carefully for sounds of anyone moving about, dragged the chest away from the door and crept from the room. She made her way through the silent house, pausing outside the earl’s bedroom door. All was quiet. Heart in mouth, she opened the door from the kitchen and made her way to the iron gates. They were locked. Almost crying with frustration, she ran round the wall until she came to a section that had been damaged, probably by the earthquake. Even so it was a struggle to climb up and over and her gown was torn and both knees grazed by the time she found herself on a rough track on the other side.
‘Such an undignified way for a lady to behave.’
She looked up from shaking out her skirt to find herself looking up into the amused eyes of the Earl of Falsham. He was leading a saddled horse and was evidently returning from a ride. She cursed her ill luck. A minute sooner or a minute later and she would not have encountered him.
He took her arm and turned her about to walk alongside him. ‘Where were you off to?’
‘To see the British Consul.’
‘Do you know who he is?’
‘No, but I can find out.’
‘I doubt you would be admitted without an appointment, especially looking like that.’ He looked at her torn clothing. ‘Only a day’s wear out of it and now it’s ruined. I seem to recall telling you that we had to be careful of our resources, but I do not suppose a little thing like the cost of a silk gown has ever troubled you. What it is to be rich beyond avarice.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘However, if you are good, I will take you to meet His Majesty’s Minister Plenipotentiary to Portugal, which is Mr Edward Hay’s correct title. He is holding a ball at the Residency tonight and I have no doubt I can secure us an invitation. Yes, now I think of it, it is a very good idea for you to be seen in the society of Lisbon. It will give credence to our story.’
‘Your story, not mine,’ she snapped.
‘Oh, dear, how often must I remind you of the consequences of crossing me? A tarnished reputation will not help you and I am prepared to lay odds your father will encourage you to accept my suit, so why not relax and enjoy your time in Lisbon?’
The only thing that prevented her from lashing out at him with tooth and claw was the prospect of meeting and speaking to the Minister. She returned silently to the villa with him, entering by a back gate which led directly to the outbuilding that served as a stable. After he had handed the horse over to the garden boy, who seemed also to act as a groom, he escorted her into the house where she went to her room to change out of the torn gown into a light sack dress. She was inclined to stay there, rather than rejoin the earl, but she was hungry and starving herself would not serve, so she made her way to the dining room for breakfast, which was served by Madeleine. The earl was jovial and talkative, ignoring the fact that Charlotte had little to say. Afterwards they walked in the garden until the sun became too hot and then retreated into the house which was cooler.
* * *
Grosswaite arrived in the afternoon and bewailed the fact that the captain had ordered all the men’s belongings to be searched and the money had not turned up. ‘He has given them twenty-four hours to come forwards with the culprit and the guineas or he will have the whole lot flogged,’ he said.
‘Surely he cannot flog the whole crew?’ Charlotte said, reminded of Davy’s assertion that he would do so.
‘He can do as he likes,’ Grosswaite said, looking closely at her. ‘I wonder if you know what has become of that money?’
‘I know nothing of it. I wish I did. If I had it, do you suppose I would be here, depending on Lord Falsham for my existence?’
‘Now, now, my dear,’ his lordship soothed. ‘We have established that you are happy to be under my protection, so let us have no more tantrums. I suggest you go and lie down to rest in your room until it is time for Madeleine to help you into your prettiest gown and dress your hair. We must not let ourselves down in front of the Minister and his guests.’
Defeated for the time being, Charlotte went to her room and sat on the bed, furious and helpless and planning what she would say to the Consul when she met him.
* * *
Early in the evening, Madeleine came to her with hot water, brushes, combs and powder to prepare her for the reception, at the end of which ministrations a butterfly emerged from its chrysalis. She was dressed in a wide-skirted open robe of cream brocade with wide panniers. Its stomacher was held to the bodice with rows of satin bows, one above the other from the pointed waist to a low neckline. The sleeves were double flounced with la
ce just below the elbow. Her hair had been piled with false curls and powdered within an inch of its life. Dotted about this creation were several more satin bows.
Even the earl was impressed. ‘Why, my dear,’ he said, looking her up and down, ‘I had no idea you were so comely. I shall be the envy of every man there.’ He was dressed in an ostentatious coat of pea-green satin decorated with white embroidery and silver buttons. He had white breeches and stockings and silver buckled shoes with high heels. On his head reposed a white wig of huge proportions, high at the front, with three stuffed curls on either side and a tail curled and held in place by a wide satin ribbon. He looked a veritable macaroni.
He held out his hand to her. ‘Come, let us go. I have hired a carriage for the duration of our stay.’
She ignored the proffered hand and preceded him out to the carriage. It was a ramshackle affair, scuffed and dusty, and would have disgusted her father had he seen it. ‘Where did you find that?’ she asked in disdain
‘Oh, I know it is not up to Gilpin’s standards, but you can hardly expect that, can you?’ he said, helping her in and taking his place beside her.
The carriage was so narrow she found herself squashed up against him and tried to shift away. He noticed it and smiled. ‘For appearances’ sake, I expect you to behave with dignity,’ he went on. ‘You are my affianced bride, so remember that and act accordingly. At the moment you are being treated with every consideration and respect, but I can make life very uncomfortable for you, if you cross me.’
She did not answer and they were soon at the British Minister’s residence where a glittering assembly of the Lisbon elite was gathering: government officials, British merchants and travellers, local businessmen and senior officers of both navies, many with their ladies. They joined the line waiting to be greeted by their host and hostess. Charlotte realised Mr Hay would not listen to her while he was thus occupied, so she smiled and curtsied and followed the earl into the ballroom.
