Miss Whittier Makes a List

by Carla Kelly

  “I know that,” he replied softly, but made no move to touch her. “It’s fairly obvious to me.”

  “I thank thee, then, for being more in control than I am,” she continued relentlessly, pressing her hands to her blushing face. “There have been so many times I would gladly have let you make love to me.”

  “I know that, too. What’s the matter, my heart? Won’t my love, when it finally comes, be enough?”

  “Suppose your mother is right,” she began, pausing to choose her words carefully.

  “She is not. I know that much about you,” Spark said.

  “Daniel, thee will be a long time on the blockade!” she burst out passionately. “And I suspect that I will greatly enjoy lovemaking.” She paused, mortified at her words.

  He only smiled. “I am certain you will. I also suspect that you will save it for me alone.”

  “You are so sure?” she murmured.

  “I am so sure,” he replied.

  She could only sigh. “I wish I knew what to do,” she said finally.

  “I wish you would say yes when I propose again.” he commented as he walked with her back to the window and draped his arm over her shoulder in a friendly gesture that had nothing of the lover in it. “It would only be a morning’s work to have you declared a ward in chancery—I have been to my solicitors, my dearestnah, and so they assure me. We could be married in a few weeks after the banns.” He peered around to look at her face. “Hannah, thee is a trial to me.”

  ‘Then why does thee persist?” she demanded.

  “I cannot imagine life without your ‘thee’s’ and ‘thy’s’, and your quaint, funny ways, and the indisputable suspicion that you will love me within an inch of my sanity,” he said. He laughed as she blushed again. “And the way you blush! Are you always going to do that, even when we have children, and know each other better than any couple that ever lived? I suspect you will.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. He patted her back and took her hand, walking her to the door. “Go pack your bags, Hannah Whittier, I think it is time you saw my estate in Dorset and we kissed London goodbye. It’s not doing you any good.”

  “But Madame LeTournier is coming by this afternoon for another fitting,” she said, even as her eyes lighted up at the prospect of leaving London.

  “And she can be easily dismissed by you.”

  “I am afraid of her!” Hannah exclaimed, her eyes wide. “She is so ... so ... French!”

  Daniel laughed, grabbed her about the waist, and whirled her around in a froth of petticoats and protestations. “You, who have climbed riggings, teetered on window ledges, and told the great Wellington himself to cut his toenails? Hannah, get rid of her and pack your gs. I mean to have a yes out of you before I am too much older.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Getting rid of Madame LeTournier was a daunting experience, but Hannah was equal to it, even as Captain Spark had suggested. It involved a lie, informing the redoubtable modiste that the captain’s favorite aunt had taken sick in Devon and required their presence at the family estate immediately. Hannah delivered it with such aplomb, and received such instant, solicitous response that she owned to considerable chagrin when Madame LeTournier curtseyed herself out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her. “See here, Hannah,” she scolded herself. “Thee is becoming altogether too adept at lies. What will thee do next?”

  The stumbling block to immediate removal from London proved to be Lady Spark, who would not be budged until she had blackmailed an additional two hats and two more dresses for herself from Captain Spark, in exchange for her necessary services as chaperon.

  “And we will leave in the morning, son,” Lady Spark ordered. “I have every intention of attending a loo party tonight ....”

  “… and losing your shift and garters,” he finished, snapping out the newspaper and retreating behind it. “Mama, you are a dreadful gambler. And who pays your bills when you find yourself at point non plus? It certainly isn’t your older son, the esteemed head of our family. I confess to a definite uneasiness over your gaming habits, particularly since they always seem to involve me in your rescue.”

  Hannah made herself small on the sofa beside Daniel, wondering what her own mother would make of this conversation. She would gather me up, grab her bonnet, and run, she thought as she watched the small muscle work in Daniel’s cheek as he forced himself to be polite to his mother.

  “All the same, son, if you wish my presence in Dorset, and therefore Hannah’s, you will come up to snuff on this one.”

  “Very well, Mama,” Spark growled behind his newspaper. “I haul down my colors.”

  “Done, then!” she exclaimed. “We will leave in the morning, and not too early. I do not keep ship’s hours.” Her mouth turned down for a brief moment, and Hannah was struck by the resemblance between mother and son. “I do not know why you feel so strongly about that little estate, anyway, Daniel. It is nothing to our manor in Kent.”

  Daniel folded the paper in his lap. “It has the virtue of being entirely unencumbered with debts, madam. It is mine alone, and my dear wastrel brother cannot lay a finger on it.” He nudged Hannah. “It is also well timbered, shipshape and draft-free, with a wonderful view of the ocean. I could even mention my bailiff, who would never dream of cheating me, and his wife, who makes almond cake the way I like it.”

  Any comments Lady Spark may have wished to express on the view or the hired help remained to herself as the butler showed in Mr. Futtrell, who nodded to the dowager, winked at Hannah, and drew himself up before the captain.

  “You wished to see me, sir?” he asked.

  “Oh relax, Futtrell.” Daniel said, and indicated a chair opposite the sofa. “It is merely a small matter. I wish you to keep in daily contact with the Admiralty House while we are in Dorst. I want to know the moment they decide on another ship for me.”

  “Consider it done, sir,” he said, grinning at his captain. He looked at the floor then, divided between embarrassment and pride. “And thank you for naming me your number one.”

  Hannah clapped her hands. “Mr. Futtrell! Such good news!”

  He grinned again, looking ten years younger, and then stared down at the floor one more time. ‘Trouble is, Hannah, the only other person I would want to share the news with is Mr. Lansing.”

  Daniel nodded to his first lieutenant. “I know how that feels, Mr. Futtrell.”

  “Sir, does it ever hurt less?” the lieutenant asked quietly.

  “Well, I will put it to you this way,” Daniel replied after a moment’s reflection. “When it doesn’t hurt at all, then it is time to leave the sea for good.”

  “I do not know why navy men have to be so morbid,” Lady Spark said as she left the room.

  It is something I understand perfectly, Hannah thought as she reached over to touch Futtrell’s arm. He looked up at her and nodded.

  “Surely thee can think of something more pleasant,” she urged. “Is thee not on leave now? Does thee have a young lady?”

  Futtrell leaned back in surprise, his eyes wide. “No, ma’am! I couldn’t be so heartless as to actually expect a female to dangle after a seagoing man!/font>” He glanced at Captain Spark’s glowering countenance and reddened. “Beg pardon, sir, but I would not.”

  “First my mother, and now you,” Spark said. “Futtrell, perhaps you have some urgent business elsewhere.”

  The lieutenant grinned. “Aye, sir!” He stood up and winked at Hannah again. “This might amuse you, Miss Whittier. I hear there is a lively betting pool at White’s as to whether the little Quaker will actually succumb to a certain sea captain’s proposal. Isn’t that famous?”

  Hannah’s jaw dropped. Captain Spark groaned and slapped his forehead with the newspaper. “God damn your eyes. Mr. Futtrell,” he roared, as though he stood on his quarterdeck. “Another remark like that and I’ll break you right down to powder monkey!”

  Futtrell was out the door before Spark got to his feet. The capta
in stood at the door a moment, as though gathering his forces, then turned back to Hannah, who had retreated to the window again, to stare out at the everlasting rain.

  “My dear, I had heard something about that,” the captain mumbled. “I had hoped to spare you the knowledge.”

  Hannah continued to stare out the window, seeing nothing of the rain that sheeted against the glass and spilled into the gutters. People are gambling with my name, she thought, and closed her eyes in shame.

  Spark cleared his throat. “Some would think it amusing,” he ventured, but there was no assurance in his voice.

  “I think it infamous,” she said, leaning her forehead against the cool panf glass. “Surely thee does not approve.”

  He crossed the room quickly and pulled her into his arms, resting his chin on her head as he held her as close as he could. “No, I do not,” he whispered into her hair. “My love, there is only one place on land where I do not feel out of place, and believe me, it is not in this damned city, with creatures who have nothing better to do than gamble and toy with a lady’s good name.”

  She stood in his arms, her ear pressed against his heart, and listened to its steady beat until she felt calm enough to look him in the face. “Please tell me that if I marry thee, I will not have to come back here ever again.” she pleaded.

  He looked down at her and grinned. “I will only insist upon it if I am ever named a Lord of the Admiralty.” He shuddered elaborately until she smiled. “As I do not see the eventuality of that, you may safely shake the dust of London off your shoes. Lady Amber.”

  While they did not leave London early enough to suit Hannah or Captain Spark, it was still too early for Lady Spark, who suffered the ill effects of last night’s overindulgence at the gaming tables. “I think you are perfectly heartless!” she railed at her son as he handed her into the family carriage and closed the door firmly on her protests. He blew a kiss to Hannah through the glass and mounted his horse as the carriage sprang forward and Lady Spark moaned.

  Luckily she was snoring by the time they reached London’s suburbs, and Hannah had ample time for reflection. Such an odd family, she thought as she regarded the older woman, and recalled, with a pang, her own family, Mama so gentle and dignified, and Papa firm and deliberate. I wonder if they ever had any doubts about marriage to each other, she thought as she observed Captain Spark riding beside the carriage. Did they ever wonder if they were doing the right thing? Did the idea of sharing a bed with Papa ever frighten Mama? She longed more than ever for the safety of her mother’s arms, and for some word of advice. I wonder if I would have the good sense to take her counsel, Hannah thought as the miles turned London into just a memory. I never did before; would I now? Have I learned anything?

  These were not questions she could ask Daniel’s mother, who woke up finally, straightened her hat, and complained about the damp, her head, the shabbiness of the carriage (“For all that Daniel is not head of this house, I do not know why he cannot buy another carriage and spare his poor brother, who is always under the hatches.”) They stopped for luncheon not a moment too soon for Hannah.

  After their meal, Captain Spark must have noticed her reluctance to continue the journey in the coach with his mother. “My dear, you could use some roses in your cheeks,” he said as he pulled her up into the saddle in front of him. “Mama, I’ll keep Hannah a while.”

  With a look of extreme ill usage on her face, Lady Spark allowed the postilion to help her into the carriage. “If she takes ill with a putrid sore throat and dies a wasting death, then you must explain that to the American ambassador!”

  “Mama, Hannah is healthier than a horse,” Spark said, doing his best to keep the amusement from his voice. “See you at the estate!” He dug his heels into his horse and they shot ahead.

  As the horse established its rhythm, Hannah sighed and settled back against the captain. “Healthier than a horse, am I?” she murmured.

  “So I have observed,” he replied, tightening his arms around her. “Think how handy that will be in years to come.” He was silent a moment, rubbing his free hand over her arm. “I am sorry to have to subject you to my mother, but, damn, we do need a chaperon.”

  She sighed and he kissed her neck. “I think we Sparks do not measure up well against the Whittiers of Nantucket,” he ventured.

  “No, you do not,” she said simply, “and I am sorry, truly I am. I fear you do not love your relatives.”

  “Would you love them, in my place?” he questioned in turn. “And you have not even met my brother yet. I do not know a more worthless slug on the face of the earth than Edmund Spark, the current earl. Between Mama’s recriminations and Edmund’s petitions for relief from his debtors, do you have any doubts why I prefer the sea?”

  She turned around to look into his arresting eyes, marveling again how fascinating they were up close. “Would your reluctance for the land keep you from me?” she asked.

  He kissed her in answer, dropping the reins as the little kiss turned into a searching rediscovery of her mouth, neck, and eyes that left them both restless and the horse chewing grass by the side of the road.

  “I am not the horseman for lovemaking in the saddle,” the captain said as he gathered the reins again and coaxed the horse back onto the road. “I merely had to assure you that was a silly question.”

  “Was it?” she murmured, half to herself, as the agony of unsettled love was replaced by a distinct chill that went heart before she could wish it away. I wonder what will happen when Mr. Futtrell brings you news of another ship.

  They arrived at Spark’s estate too late for a good look at it in the fading autumn light. “It’s always better by morning light, my love,” he whispered in her ear as he reined to a stop in front of the well-lighted house. “Early morning light, need I add?”

  “Oh, please, not before eight bells,” she said, trying to keep her eyes open.

  He laughed, handed her down, and dismounted with a groan. “I know this man’s natural state is a quarterdeck, and not the back of a quadruped,” he said, then picked her up and started toward the steps. “Here, Hannah, you knock on the door. My hands are full,” he said.

  “Not until you put me down,” she said, then touched his cheek, closing her eyes when he kissed her palm and her wrist, where the pulse beat faster. “If I marry you, you can carry me over the threshold, but not now.”

  “Spoilsport,” he said, and lowered her to her feet. He knocked and the door was opened by a handsome woman in cap and apron who held out her hands to them both.

  “Captain,” she said, taking his hand and Hannah’s. “You’ve been too long away. This is Hannah Whittier?” she asked, her eyes on Hannah, her smile of welcome genuine.

  “The very same. Hannah, may I introduce my housekeeper, Mrs. Paige? She raised me and I purloined her from the family estate, when I bought this place. Edmund is still smarting from that piece of impertinence, by the way, as the bailiff came with her.< />”

  In a few minutes they were in the kitchen, eating almond cake with icing so gooey that Hannah could only roll her eyes and follow one bite with another one.

  “My love, I think you can see why only a few of these bring me right back up to my precruise tonnage,” Spark said as he scooped up more icing with his finger, dodged Mrs. Paige’s slap, and stuck his finger in his mouth. He leaned back finally and patted his flat stomach. “Now I am home! Mrs. Paige, how do you do?”

  “Excellently well, sir,” said the housekeeper, who sat next to Hannah with her hands folded in her lap. “Your mother is already in bed with a hot water bottle. She was sure you had been delayed by pirates or smugglers, so I gave her a sleeping draught.”

  “Bless you, Mrs. Paige,” Daniel said fervently. He glanced at Hannah, who was hard put to keep her eyes open. “Lady Amber here doesn’t need a sleeping draught. Did you put her in the corner room?”

  “As you wished, Captain,” said Mrs. Paige as she rose to her feet and picked up a candle by the kitchen d
oor. “I believe Mr. Paige has already put her trunk in there. Come, little one, let me show you upstairs.”

  “I can do that,” said the captain, his eyes lively.

  “No, sir! You can eat another piece of cake,” said Mrs. Paige firmly as she took hold of Hannah’s arm and helped her up. “Plenty of time for that later. Right my dear?” Hannah nodded and smiled at Spark. “No, remember, not too early.”

  She was asleep almost as soon as Mrs. Paige helped her into her nightgown and pulled back the bedcovers. She sank into the feather bed with a sigh, burped from the effects of almond cake at ten o’clock, murmured “Excuse me,” and closed her eyes. She thought she recalled someone coming into her room later to stand by the bed, and then brush her cheek with his own, but she couldn’t be sure. It may have been a dream. Heaven knew she was dreaming about Captain Spark more than she should, anyway. The impression that he needed a shave led her to believe it was not a nighttime fantasy, but she was too drugged with sleep to explore the matter beyond patting his face, murmuring something nonsensical that made him chuckle, and surrendering unconditionally to the mattress.

  She woke to a world of sunlight and lay with her eyes closed, waiting for the sound of birds. But it was September now, and they had flown to South America, or at least New Orleans. But no, this was England, not Nantucket. The songbirds of an English summer would be in Spain, or over the Pillars of Hercules to North Africa. She opened her eyes then, wondering why she felt like she was home.

  Without raising her head from the pillow, she stretched luxuriously and looked around the room, her eyes opening wider with delight. The curtains were simplest muslin and fluttered slightly in the breeze that came through the barely open window. The walls were pale blue, with no ornamentation beyond a sampler with a Bible verse. Intrigued, she raised up on her elbow to admire the severe bureau, and smiled to herself. There was no mirror on the bureau, and the room smelled suspiciously of new paint.

  “Daniel, what has thee been up to?” she murmured out loud, and threw back the bedcovers. Her bare feet trod plain boards to the window and she curled up in the window seat for her first view of the ocean. Tears sprung to her eyes. The view was a powerful reminder of Nantucket, with the sea, such a deep blue that her heart flopped, peeping like an afterthought through the trees in the distance. She glanced around the sparse room again, and her heart was full to bursting. I could almost be home, she thought. Oh, I do love you, Daniel Spark.