by Louise Allen
‘Oh, dear,’ Lady Trevick said wryly. ‘It appears that no sooner have we arrived than I must be packing and returning. I am sorry, gentleman, but it seems our little holiday is at an end, unless perhaps you would care to keep the villa on? I can certainly arrange for staff to remain here.’
‘Thank you, ma’am, but as it is my intention to travel on to Venice, I will return with the rest of the party and see if I can take passage on this ship.’ Chance kept his eyes firmly on his hostess as he spoke, but Alessa was aware of her aunt’s own gaze flickering to Frances and a small smile curving her lips. So, she thinks she can catch him for Frances? Alessa smiled inwardly, then caught herself up. And why not? If not her, then another pretty young lady with a sheltered background and no skeletons in her cupboard.
‘Count? Do you care to stay on alone and explore the coastline in your skiff?’
They all looked at the Count of Kurateni, who for once was not relaxed and smiling, listening to all the conversations and lightly teasing the girls. He was staring at the letter in his hand, his face dark. Alessa, sitting next to him, cast a rapid glance at it, and saw it was covered in a sprawling black hand in a language quite unfamiliar. Albanian, she thought. He folded it, running his nail along the crease in a gesture that seemed to speak of anger barely contained, then glanced up, his black eyes narrowed, and realised that they were all looking at him.
‘Ha! My fool of a captain. He makes a muddle with a simple thing, makes it worse by overreacting, then expects me to sort it out for him. I must return.’
And I do not envy the captain, Alessa thought. The anger was radiating off the Albanian like the heat from a fire. Whatever the captain’s error, she suspected it was far worse than the Count was making out. Perhaps he stood to lose a lot of money. She saw Chance watching him too and raised her eyebrows. He answered her with a wry grimace, the corners of his mouth turning down in a fleeting imitation of the Count’s scowl.
Lady Trevick was organising their departures, Wilkins at her side. ‘I imagine you will be leaving immediately, Mr Harrison, and taking the papers in the gig?’
‘Yes, ma’am. I will take two outriders, if I may. I believe that will leave sufficient grooms and outriders for the remaining carriages.’
‘Two outriders, with the army units already working on the road? Is that necessary?’ Alessa saw Mr Harrison’s quick warning glance and the way he laid his hand meaningfully over the letter from the Lord High Commissioner. ‘But of course,’ Lady Trevick said smoothly, ‘one cannot be too careful with government dispatch boxes.’
‘I will ride,’ Chance said, ‘providing there is room for my valises with your luggage coach, ma’am. I have a fancy to explore off the main road a little.’He was staring at Alessa, his expression bland, but she thought she knew the message he was sending. He intended to escort her and the children back and had no intention of letting Lady Blackstone know it.
‘I will sail,’ the Count announced curtly. He stood, and bowed to Lady Trevick, something of the lazy charm coming back into his voice. ‘I will require a period of solitude to recover from the disappointment of having to leave so many lovely ladies.’
‘When do you expect to be back in the town, Alexandra?’ Alessa stopped wondering about the Count and focused on her aunt’s question.
‘Tomorrow evening, ma’am. I shall need two or three days to settle my affairs and pack.’
‘Well, the clothes we have ordered for you should be ready before we sail.’
‘Yes, indeed. I imagine Miss Trevick will be glad to have her property returned to her.’ Still no mention of the children. Alessa realised her aunt was avoiding any confrontation in front of witnesses. She could precipitate matters by bringing the subject up now. But no, Lady Trevick was pushing back her chair and everyone was rising to their feet in a babble of plans and conversation.
‘You and Frances will be able to attend at least two parties with us when we are back,’ Maria announced. ‘What a good thing your aunt has ordered you an evening gown.’
‘Yes, indeed.’ Alessa tried to smile and look pleased, but her mind was already whirling with plans. ‘Will you excuse me, I really must go up to my cottage and begin packing.’
The next morning Alessa let Kate drive the cart with the luggage piled in the back. Dora sat up beside her and Demetri was thrilled by permission to take the second mule. Alessa rode ahead in silence, her vision clouded with unshed tears.
It had been so much harder than she had imagined, to leave the cottage where she had lived with her father, and harder still to take leave of Agatha. The old woman might not be here when she returned, they both knew that, although neither spoke of it. Alessa gave her the papers for her cottage and had seen the priest before she left the village. He would make sure that a suitable family moved in, one who would look after their neighbour as she got frailer.
‘Don’t fuss, girl,’ Agatha had said briskly. ‘This is the best thing for the children, and you know it.’
Even so, she rode through fields of wild flowers, the little gladioli waving purple in the breeze and her mule’s feet picking their way amidst the sheets of cyclamen and orchids, until the sound of hoofbeats made her focus on the here and now and look round.
It was Chance, his grin as he exchanged greetings with Demetri turning to concern as he saw her woebegone face.
‘What is it? That old besom again?’
‘No, it is hard leaving the cottage and Agatha, that is all.’
‘It is no small thing.’He reached down from the saddle and touched her shoulder fleetingly. ‘You love the old lady. Did she want you to go?’
‘Mmm,’ Alessa mumbled, not wanting to talk in case she started crying again and upset the children. They had no idea they might have parted from their surrogate grandmother for the last time.
‘We will talk of other things.’ Chance was brisk. ‘Tell me what all these flowers are.’
‘All of them?’ She managed a watery smile. ‘Have you a month?’ Even so, she began to point things out to him and as the little party made their way at the pace of the cart along the dusty track she felt her heart lift. Was Chance aware of what he was doing? Whether he knew or not, he was letting her imprint the loveliness of the island in her memory so that she would be able to conjure it up, fresh, hot and fragrant, whenever she needed it.
They stopped to eat and rest the mules at mid-day by one of the old Venetian wells that were scattered amidst the groves throughout the island. Kate, replete with bread and cheese, tipped her hat over her nose and began to snore softly in the back of the cart and the children, after rushing around playing hide and seek for ten frantic minutes, suddenly went quiet and curled up to sleep in the soft grass under an olive.
Alessa was feeling drowsy herself. Chance was sitting close by, his shoulder as tempting to rest her head on as it had been on the beach the day before. She set herself to make lists in her head instead.
‘Alessa?’He spoke softly; none of the sleepers stirred. She was conscious of butterflies in her stomach. ‘What do you think the Count is up to?’
‘Oh. I have no idea, but surely it cannot be anything too disreputable. After all, he tells me he is looking for a well-bred English wife. That argues that whatever his business, it is open to scrutiny, does it not?’
‘He told you that, too, did he? If he’s after one of the Trevick girls, he is due for a disappointment—their mama has sized him up very tidily!’
‘Well, Helena is disillusioned with him because he kissed my hand, and I did what I could to reinforce that feeling. And Maria—’ She stopped on the edge of an indiscretion.
‘Is in love with Mr Harrison. I kept my eyes open after your hint yesterday. Go to sleep, Alessa. I’ll watch out for the animals.’
To her own amazement, she did sleep, waking an hour later to find Kate packing the cart again and the ludicrous sight of Dora, Demetri and Chance, all kneeling with their noses virtually on the same spot on the ground, their sterns pointing skywa
rds.
‘What can you be doing?’ She strolled over, stretching.
‘Trapdoor spiders,’ Chance explained, straightening up. ‘Demetri has been showing me how they hunt. That boy has the makings of a scientist.’
‘Kate thinks he will become an ambassador.’ Alessa untethered her mule and swung up into the saddle before Chance could help her.
‘Good God,’he said, regarding the grubby child with awe. ‘Had she been drinking?’
Chapter Seventeen
The warm glow from the journey lasted Alessa all night and through the next morning, despite the horrors of deciding what to pack, finding valises and boxes to put it into and remembering all the tasks to be carried out.
Finally she sat down wearily while the children ran off, bearing letters and money to pay the final bills for the landlord, Demetri’s teacher and the nuns. Kate put her head round the door. ‘All finished? Lord love us, what’s that?’
‘Papa’s pistol. I wasn’t sure what to do with it.’ With a shrug Alessa closed the polished walnut box on the deadly object and pushed it into the leather satchel that was the nearest thing she had to a reticule. Aunt Honoria was going to have a fit when she saw her niece’s inelegant baggage. Possibly she should go shopping for a few such pretty trifles, but that could wait until Venice.
Not that she knew how she could pay for such things. Her small savings were already dwindling, what with having to pay all her bills at once and buy new clothes and shoes for the children. She supposed she would have to ask her aunt to advance her some money, but she recoiled from anything that put her deeper into Lady Blackstone’s debt. Or she could borrow from Chance, which of course no respectable young woman would dream of doing. But then, as her aunt kept warning her, she was not respectable.
‘Stop frowning,’ Kate ordered. ‘Now, Fred’s here—what of this needs to go downstairs for the children, and what are you taking to the Residency?’
Alessa had decided to leave the children with Kate until they sailed. With any luck, until the last minute, her aunt would think she had given in to her. In any case, if there was to be any unpleasantness about their travelling, the further the children were from it, the better.
It seemed very strange to be living in the Residency, after the many times when she had come here for the laundry or to physic one of the staff. But everyone was tactful and after half a day Alessa stopped worrying that one of the servants would let something slip in front of her aunt.
There was no sign of the Lord High Commissioner or his secretary, only a subdued bustle amongst the clerical staff and several arrivals of groups of naval officers for meetings.
For the ladies, the first day back was filled with fittings for Alessa and shopping expeditions for last-minute items. However disapproving her aunt might be about the children and her niece’s lifestyle, she was sweetness and light in the shops. ‘My dear, consider it a present,’ she kept saying, pressing trifles such as fans, shawls and the necessary reticule into Alessa’s hands, and laughing off any suggestion that Alessa repaid her.
‘How generous your aunt is,’ Helena whispered after they had emerged from the milliners in the Liston. ‘I wish mine were as kind.’
‘Indeed, yes,’ Alessa responded, wondering uncharitably if all this generosity was intended to give a good impression to the Trevicks. Depressed, she decided it probably was.
The next morning the young ladies were invited by the wife of the colonel of the garrison to a picnic on the hill south of the town, where a sweeping view of the Bay of Garitsa might be had. It was Alessa’s first social gathering and she dressed in her fashionable new promenade dress with trepidation. It did not seem to her, with its complicated skirts, that it would be much use for walking, but she soon realised that the gentle, gossipy strolls amidst the olive trees while the view was admired was considered quite vigorous exercise.
She instinctively moved to join the young matrons sitting on their rugs and sipping lemonade, until Maria caught her arm. ‘We girls are supposed to giggle together over here,’ she said with a shrug. ‘They’ll be talking about men and childbirth and lovers—all the things we are not supposed to know about.’
They sat and shaded their eyes to admire the bulk of the Paleó Frourio—the Old Fort—as it jutted out into the bay, the little Venetian harbour nestling on the southern side.
‘I wonder which is your ship,’ Maria mused.
‘I know that, I asked Mr Harrison yesterday,’ Frances interjected. ‘It is the far side, in the big harbour, you can just see the top masts.’
‘That one is the Count’s.’ Alessa pointed to a smaller, rakish vessel in the Venetian harbour. It looked sleek and fast amid the British naval vessels with their high sides and banks of gun ports. Forming a backdrop to the whole scene were the looming mountains of Albania, so close across the narrow neck of sea.
Surprisingly, Alessa found she enjoyed the picnic, although it seemed criminally lazy to lounge around chattering of nothing when they could at least have been taking some exercise, or gathering herbs. Her hands, devoid of mending, or a shirt to stitch, felt restless.
At last, after the ladies had napped in the shade and taken yet more refreshments, they climbed into their carriages and drove back down the hill and along the coast road back into town.
As they reached the start of the Spianadha, a horseman drew up alongside the Residency coach.
‘Lord Blakeney! Is anything wrong?’
‘No, nothing at all, Miss Trevick; I did not intend to alarm you.’ Chance replaced the hat he had doffed and handed Frances a note. ‘Your mama asked me to deliver this, that is all. I do not believe she requires an answer.
‘Now, if you will excuse me, I have very rashly promised the Captain of Marines to join his side for a game of cricket this afternoon and I must change. Goodbye.’ The look he gave Alessa was serious—there was something in his eyes she could not read. Then he touched the brim of his hat and cantered off, leaving Frances studying the note, a rather conscious look on her face. Oh, dear, she is still fancying herself in love with him, Alessa thought.
‘Mama asks that we go out to the ship, Alexandra,’ Frances said brightly, folding the note into a tight square and stuffing it into her reticule. ‘Something to do with cabins and where the luggage needs to be stowed.’
‘Oh.’ It seemed odd, but the afternoon was hot, and the thought of the cooler breeze out in the bay was tempting. ‘Does she want us both to go?’
‘I think so. The note is rather hurried.’
‘We will drop you off,’ Maria announced, calling up instructions to the driver.
When Alessa and Frances climbed down, the farewells her cousin made to the Trevick sisters struck Alessa as somewhat excessive, given that they would all be seeing each other in a few hours. But then, she concluded, as a respectful seaman helped her into a rowing boat, Frances did seem prone to strong emotions. She hoped she would have a cabin large enough to have the children in with her; goodness knows what sort of sailor Dora would prove to be. She smiled fondly as the long oars propelled them out into the harbour—Demetri would enjoy it, whatever the weather.
Chance accepted the bat from Captain Michaels and walked out onto the grass of the Spianadha, wondering what on earth had possessed him to accept an invitation to play cricket when it was a year since he had handled a bat, the ground seemed hard as iron and all the players were a completely unknown quantity.
There was also a large crowd of spectators, including a number of ladies in their open-topped carriages, parasols deployed. He recognised the Residency landau, although there only seemed to be two pretty sunhats on show; perhaps the missing young ladies had found the excitements of the picnic too much and were resting. He repressed the fantasy that Alessa was one of those remaining, and would sit admiring the athletic prowess with which he accumulated runs. More likely he would be out first ball.
He nodded to his batting partner and took his position, squinting into the sun as the bowler, a man
built like a whippet and with a similar turn of speed, began his run. The ball flashed down, Chance hit it squarely for a respectable two and prepared to receive again.
As he shifted his stance, movement from the edge of the great green space made him glance away from the bowler. A horse was being ridden, at the gallop, straight through the crowd and on to the pitch. Ladies scattered, screaming, dogs barked, men shouted and the ball went right under Chance’s slack guard and took out the stumps.
‘Out!’
He could see now that the big bay, a thoroughbred hunter, was being ridden bareback on a halter by a boy. Demetri. The horse skidded snorting to a standstill halfway down the crease, digging up divots of earth with its hooves.
‘Now see here!’ The lieutenant who was umpiring strode up, but Chance was already lifting the boy down.
‘What is it? What is wrong?’ Alessa. His heart seemed to stop.
Demetri was crying, great angry gulping sobs. He took a flailing swing at Chance, catching him painfully on the elbow. ‘Traitor! Swine! Liar!’ His English failed him and he continued to storm in Greek and Italian, still kicking and hitting at Chance.
‘The lad’s gone mad, get a doctor,’ someone suggested in the midst of the hubbub. ‘And catch that damn horse and get it off the pitch!’
Chance dropped to his knees and wrapped both arms round the furious child. ‘Demetri, stop it. What is wrong? I can’t help until you tell me what is wrong.’
‘She’s gone. She’s gone without us and she said you promised we could go too.’He broke off to gulp down air and scrub at his eyes with the handkerchief Chance produced. ‘I went to say goodbye to the cook at the Residency, ’cos she’s my friend, and she said they are all leaving this afternoon, Alessa’s aunt and her cousin and Alessa. And I said they couldn’t be, ’cos Dora and me’d be going too, but then the coachman came in and he said you’d brought the message and the young ladies went to the ship.’
