“Don’t go!” All at once, Lucy felt as if she was being deserted.
O’Rourke smiled. “I must get back to the ship. I’ll return.”
“Come along,” Mrs. Hardie said. “Let’s go in and find out what this place is like.”
They followed Madame Arbez into a large square taproom which smelled strongly of wine. Up a couple of staircases were the bedchambers. Lucy was shown into a small attic room almost filled by a bed made out of rough timber with a high mattress. A tiny window gave some light. When she forced it open, Lucy looked out across the rooftops and into the bay. There on the grey water was the Constanze, surrounded by boats. For a moment she felt homesick. Homesick for an enemy ship, don’t be so silly, she told herself. She looked at the bed. The feather mattress was covered with sheets that were coarse but clean. There was no sign of a wash stand, but a chamber pot stood in one corner. There was no other furniture. Hooks on the walls obviously were intended to hang up her clothes. She swung off her boat cloak and put it on the nearest one.
Her skin seemed gritty and her hair was coming down from its coil. I must wash myself and borrow a comb, she thought. How awful I must look. I wonder if I can make that woman understand what I need.
Lucy found it easier than she expected. She descended into what must be the taproom and then, hearing voices, down a further short staircase into the kitchen. Madame Arbez was there, stirring a pot on the hearth. A girl stood rolling pastry at a huge scrubbed table while another washed a pile of dirty dishes. A giggle from the pastry maker alerted the mistress of the house and she turned. Noticing Lucy, she hooked the ladle over the side of the pan and came forward rubbing her hands on her apron.
“Mademoiselle?”
“My I please have some water to wash?” Lucy asked. The landlady looked blank, so Lucy repeated,
“Water?” and mimed throwing water onto her face.
“Ah, de l’eau!”
Some more words and the girl at the sink filled a can and brought it to Lucy. Then she gave her a pottery bowl and a piece of cloth. Pleased with her success, Lucy mimed brushing her hair. The landlady beckoned to her and said,
“Un peigne. D’accord. Suivez moi, s’il vous plait.”
She climbed the stairs, Lucy following. Madame Arbez led her up to the first floor and into the bedroom which she shared with her husband. Then she rummaged in a press and handed Lucy a comb. It had a few teeth missing but it would do.
“Thank you.” Lucy smiled at her and then went back to her own room and made an attempt to tidy her appearance, not without some pain. The comb was barely adequate as her hair was badly tangled. Lacking a looking glass, she twisted and turned trying to find her reflection in the rather muddy window panes. She compared her present situation with Mrs. Beckwith’s house.
I will write to Becky and tell her how grateful I am for the care she gave me. There are so many things I never realised I would have to do without. Everything is so different. I must tell her what has happened to me. She’ll be horrified. I wonder if Caroline would envy me my adventures now. There was very little for Lucy to do for the rest of the afternoon. The inn had no books and she did not like needlework. Thoroughly bored, she ventured down to the taproom where a number of the locals sat around drinking. They stopped talking immediately she went in and their fierce looks made her turn around and shut the door after her. She would not dream of venturing out into the streets unaccompanied, even if she ignored the proprieties. The encounter with the painted lady had taught her that. She searched the house for Captain and Mrs. Hardie but could not find them anywhere. The landlady made gestures that suggested they had gone out. So there was nothing to do but retreat to her room again, lie on her bed and think. Her thoughts were not happy ones.
Later on, she heard a banging and shuffling on the stairs. Curiosity made her look out and she saw two men staggering under the weight of a large trunk. They put it down outside her door and she was astounded to see it was hers. Her name was painted on the lid. The men smiled at her and gestured to the trunk then they said something, turned around and left her.
Lucy had not expected to see her possessions again until she was in Ireland. In fact, after the fighting, she never expected to see them at all. Why had it not been looted with everything else? Why had it been returned to her? She could not guess but was only thankful to have it. The clothes she had worn on the voyage had been her worst. She was sick of them, especially the horrible black dress she first wore to the solicitor’s office.
She undid the straps of the trunk, pulled up the lid and looked down. The tissue paper wrappings around her dresses had not been disturbed. A faint scent of lavender arose when she opened them. No one had rooted through her belongings looking for anything of value.
Not that they would have found any if they had, Lucy thought. I really don’t have anything that would interest a thief. Papa probably pawned Mama’s jewellery. Certainly I never saw any, except the locket that Becky gave me on the day I left and that’s tied up safe in my pocket.
Lucy, all at once, became desperate to change her clothes. Realising she was extremely dirty, for she had only cleaned her face and hands, since leaving London, Lucy emptied the water out of the window and seized the can. She hurried down to the kitchen and, using mime, obtained hot water and more drying cloths. She went back to her room, stripped and washed herself. Then she rummaged in the trunk for underclothes and sighed at the touch of fine linen against her skin once again. She picked out a day dress of lilac trimmed with lace. It suited her better than unrelieved mourning.
No one knows me here, she thought. So they can’t expect me to wear black and I won’t bring shame to Papa’s memory.
Feeling more like herself, she followed the girl who had been sent to fetch her down for the evening meal. A large table had been set up at one end of the taproom, surrounded by screens. Captain Hardie, Mrs. Hardie and Mr. Anselm were already there. Both men rose to their feet as she came in.
“Where did you get those clothes?” Mrs. Hardie asked. She herself still wore the clothes she had been captured in.
“They’re mine. Two men brought my trunk back to me.”
“How odd.” Mrs. Hardie turned to her husband. “Privateers don’t give back anything of value, surely?”
“Only when it suits their purposes.” Everyone turned. O’Rourke stood by the screen. “May I join you?”
“Do we have any choice?” Mrs. Hardie asked, glaring at him.
“You do. Say ‘no’ and I’ll go away but then you won’t learn those things you need to know about Saint-Malo, and that, perhaps would be unfortunate.”
“Quiet, Annie,” Captain Hardie said, catching her hand. “Sit down please. No doubt you have been sent by Captain Rollin?”
“Amongst others.” O’Rourke sat down and poured himself a glass of wine. “First of all I should tell you that I’ve been to see the injured men. Mr. Barnes’ leg is going along as well as can be expected and so is Harry. If you call at the convent tomorrow you will be able to see them for yourselves. Tom, I’m afraid is barely holding on to life, so if you know his religion, I can arrange for a minister to visit him.”
“I’m not sure he had one… ” Captain Hardie said.
“Yes he did!” Mrs Hardie interrupted. “He told me once that he was raised in the old faith. He comes from Lancashire. There’s a lot like him up there.”
“Catholic?” O’Rourke asked and she nodded.
“That is easy then. The curé can give him the last sacrament and hear his confession. I’ll tell the sisters when I leave here. If it is not needed, no matter.”
Captain Hardie nodded. “Thank you.”
“There’s a rumour that a man was found on a beach north of here. He was clinging to a piece of wood. He’s in bad shape but he’s alive. It may be your Lenny.”
“Oh, I hope so!”
“I’ll try to find out for you but it may take a day or two. If it’s him, he’ll be sent here as soon as he’s fit enoug
h to travel. On another subject I should tell you that in this port, there are agents whose job it is to arrange to ransom captured Englishmen, especially passengers, ship’s officers and the like. One of these men, a Monsieur Dubee, intends to call upon you tomorrow to take details. He usually writes to the owners of a captured vessel, enclosing a letter from the master. It’s even possible, although unlikely at this moment, that there’ll be an exchange of prisoners. From time to time the English capture Frenchmen, often aboard American vessels, and they are held for exchange or ransom. There are several of your compatriots in Saint-Malo, who have been here for some months and whom we expect to return to their homes very soon. It’s an established practice.”
“Months!” Lucy could not keep the dismay out of her voice. “Why I shall go mad in this place with nothing to do!”
“Even in Saint-Malo there are amusements that should interest you, Miss Ridgeway.” He smiled at her. “There are concerts, dances, boat trips on the river, pleasant walks…”
“Why did you return Miss Ridgeway’s possessions to her, Mr. O’Rourke?” Mrs. Hardie interrupted him. “I never believed privateers did such things.”
“Captain’s orders, Mrs Hardie. Since you must be here for some little time, you require clothes to wear. Your own garments have been packed and should be returned to you tomorrow along with the Captain’s and Mr. Anselm’s. Unfortunately it won’t be possible to include certain items, like your fine pistols, Captain, as I’m sure you can understand.”
“What else have you robbed?” Mrs. Hardie demanded.
O’Rourke smiled at her. “The furnishings of your cabin, your ship and its cargo, but you expected that. Your countrymen would be far more rapacious if the situation were reversed.”
“How do you know that?”
“Travellers’ tales and from personal experience, ma’am. I can sympathise with you. If you will allow me, I’m here to help you to be comfortable in the weeks that must pass before you go home.”
“Let him speak, Annie,” Captain Hardie said.
During the meal, O’Rourke gave them a wealth of details. Mr. Anselm was consoled with the information that there was a small church, Huguenot in origin, where he would be able to find others of his persuasion. The markets, concerts and assemblies were discussed in detail. The ladies were warned not to go out at night and to avoid certain areas of the town.
“Better if you walk about in company. Not everyone here thinks kindly of the English. Some families have lost sons and fathers press-ganged into the Royal Navy or killed in the wars. Many of the other prisoners meet at their various lodgings during the week. The nearest is at an alehouse called the Ermine, L’hermine. I would suggest that you visit it tomorrow if you want to make other contacts. Madame Arbez can provide you with a guide. I will speak to her before I leave if you wish.”
Chapter Nine
They left the table and Lucy was turning away when O’Rourke said to her,
“Would you come for a walk with me, Miss Ridgeway, since the evening is so fine? A short stroll along the walls to enjoy the last of the day?”
“Am I safe with you, Mr. O’Rourke?”
He grinned. “You have my word on it, ma’am.”
Mrs. Hardie protested, but Lucy overrode her concern. She had no desire to go back to her bedroom or to sit with the Hardies and Mr. Anselm and listen to their conversation. O’Rourke had been right. Even after such a short time, she craved his company, even though it annoyed her to admit the fact. She went upstairs to find her shawl and bonnet.
“I won’t be long,” she told Mrs. Hardie and hurried outside before she could be stopped.
O’Rourke guided her to one of the staircases that led onto the walls. Against the fading light, the low lying coastline was silhouetted as far as the distant uplands. Small boats crisscrossed the waters of the harbour and the masts of the brigs and frigates stood out as if they were winter trees. The sun was just setting.
“It’s lovely,” Lucy said.
“It’s peaceful now and that’s when a place is at its best.” There was a strange note in his voice as if he was not watching the scene before him but somewhere else.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
“My home. I’ve often seen it like this. A pity I can never see it again.”
“You can’t go back?”
“It wouldn’t be wise. I brought you up here to see the sunset but the light is fading now. We should return.”
They climbed down the stairs and walked towards the lodging house. Several times O’Rourke hesitated as if he wanted to say something to her but each time he continued without doing so. At the door of the tavern, O’Rourke stopped and turned to Lucy.
“Don’t go in yet. There is something I must tell you.”
“Oh?” Lucy’s heart beat a little faster wondering what he would say, but when he continued his words were unexpected and not at all what she wanted to hear.
“Captain Rollin has told me that he intends to visit you tomorrow to ask if you will have dinner with him.”
Lucy’s words deserted her. What should she say? If O’Rourke had asked her to dine with him she would have immediately accepted. As it was she had a sense of disappointment.
“I must warn you that the captain has a liking for the company of pretty young ladies and he is likely to make a proposition to you over dinner. He has done so before in similar circumstances.”
“What sort of a proposition?”
“To stay in Saint-Malo and live with him as his woman. He can be a very pleasant man when he wants to be. If you choose to accept his proposal, he would make your life comfortable for a while, until another girl catches his interest.”
Lucy stepped back and looked at him with a blank horror in her eyes.
“What exactly are you telling me?”
“Have you ever heard the term carte blanche, Miss Ridgeway?”
“No, what does it mean?”
“A carte blanche or white card is offered to a woman by a man who wants to make her his mistress.”
A slight noise behind them made O’Rourke turn and walk away from her. He glanced down the street and into the alleyway which ran down the side of the tavern. Then he came back.
“What is it?”
“Nothing, but this isn’t something to be discussed in public. Walk with me again. Where were we?”
“You were telling me that Captain Rollin wants to make me his mistress. Didn’t you mean wife?” Lucy asked rather faintly. Even though she was not supposed to understand such things, she had heard about these women, even seen some of them standing outside the Opera House in London. Susan Wilson’s horrid brother called them barques of frailty when he had been chatting to a friend and did not notice that the girls were nearby. Surely O’Rourke was not suggesting she become one of these unfortunates? His next words confirmed the nightmare.
“I meant mistress. The captain would like you to live with him as if you were his wife although he is unlikely to marry you.”
“Why not?” Lucy was shaking with anger at his blunt manner. How dare he propose such a thing to her? How dare he be so uncaring?
“You’re very pretty but you have little fortune of your own to tempt him to form a permanent connection with you. He’d never marry to disoblige himself.”
“How do you know I’m poor?” she demanded.
He looked at her. “Your clothes aren’t made by a modiste and you wear no trinkets. A rich girl would not be travelling alone on a small brig like the White Hart with only the captain’s wife for company. She would have a maid and a manservant to protect her at least.”
“My people in Ireland are wealthy,” Lucy protested.
“They might be, but how much money would they be willing to pay for your ransom?”
“Lots!” Lucy stated defiantly, staring at him.
“Let’s hope you’re right. If you don’t accept my captain’s proposal and your freedom has to be bought, then he will set your price
high as a punishment.”
“Oh!”
“You don’t sound so certain now.”
“They’ve never met me you see,” Lucy blurted out before she realised what she had said.
“Why not?”
“My father quarrelled with my grandfather ages ago, before I was born.”
“So you aren’t sure how much you mean to them?” Lucy dropped her head and nodded. “Since you have told me so much, it would be better if I knew the whole story. I would like to help you if I can.”
“Why do you want to?” Lucy glared at him.
“I just do.”
Even as he said the words, O’Rourke wondered what mad impulse had prompted him to promise such a thing. Usually he was quite indifferent to the troubles of the prisoners. With this slight girl he was anything but indifferent. Why, he could not say. Inwardly he cursed Captain Rollin for ordering him to bring his proposition to her but he had no choice but to obey. He had done harder things in his life and his reaction surprised him. Had fate been different, O’Rourke knew he would have made Lucy a very different proposal. It was at that moment he realised that he had changed. Admittedly, he was no longer the boy who had adored his Margaret; he was a man now, but the feeling was the same. I won’t let Lucy down as I did Margaret, he thought. I can’t marry her but I can try to keep her safe. If she refuses, I’ll make certain she leaves here unmolested. If she stays, I have no right to stop her. I’ll never be able to offer marriage to any woman.
O’Rourke led Lucy to a quiet corner in the taproom, ordered some coffee and then said,
“Now tell me.”
Somewhat against her will, Lucy found herself pouring out the story of the past few weeks until she arrived in Saint-Malo. O’Rourke listened attentively. When she finished, he sighed.
“What a tangle.”
“What do you mean? I thought you said you would help me.”
“I will but first you must make a decision about whether to accept the captain’s invitation.”
“If said yes I would be ruined!” Lucy clenched her fists. She felt her eyes misting over. Becky’s face swam into her vision, and Caroline’s and even silly little Eleanor’s.
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