Her mouth was still bruised from the ferocity of his kisses.
She tried to remember his more tender approach after Mrs. Arbuthnot had disturbed them.
The more she tried, the more she realised that exercising the dogs with Lord Castleton had made it clear to her that he was the man she loved. Spending even a short time with him was a joy.
The tone of his voice, the long, elegant hands throwing the ball for the dogs, the way his eyes crinkled as he smiled at something she had said. The kindness in his eyes as he looked at her.
But that kindness was, of course, due to his feeling that he owed something to his friendship with her father.
That had been glaringly obvious from the way that he had spoken to her about her engagement to Sir Thomas.
Justina grew more and more depressed.
She entered the Saloon and looked around, hoping very much that Sir Thomas would not have altered his usual routine.
There was no Sir Thomas and no Arbuthnots, but Arthur was seated at the long table and Justina joined him with a sense of relief. For a short while she could enjoy hearing more about his experiences in India.
Afterwards, though, she felt a sense of dislocation.
What was now to happen with the time she had planned to spend with her brother? Would Sir Thomas insist she remain in Bombay rather than travel across almost half of India to where Peter was stationed in the Central Provinces?
Surely even though they were only engaged, she would be allowed to join a member of her family?
Out on the Promenade deck, Justina could see the Arbuthnots enjoying the sun on their deck chairs. Quietly fetching one of the books she had borrowed from the library, Justina found a quiet spot far away from Mrs. Arbuthnot and her daughters.
A little while later Sir Thomas found her.
“Well, well, my little fiancée,” he began and gave her a wide smile. “Shall we promenade, my dear Justina?”
There was little she could do other than join him in circling the deck, but at least she was able to clutch the book to her chest as they walked, so that he was unable to link his arm with hers.
“I hope,” he stated confidently, “that you are filled with the same joy as I myself feel at the unexpected events of last night.”
She had not anticipated so straightforward an approach. His manner was frank and open and for the first time she felt she might be able to trust him.
“You took me by surprise,” she mumbled slowly.
“I felt that was probably the case. Your beauty quite overcame my most gentlemanly instincts. You must be aware of the effect you have on me.”
Justina blushed.
“If Mrs. Arbuthnot had not arrived in such a precipitous manner, I should have asked you to be my wife. Ever since I saw you looking so incredibly lovely in that grey dress on the first night, I have thought of nothing but you. I have wished to spend every minute of the voyage with you, to tell you of the effect your nearness has on my body.”
Justina moved away from him. She was not used to any man speaking to her like this. It was exciting, disturbing even, but also, she could not help but feel, somewhat frightening. Again she remembered how he had forced himself upon her.
“As it was,” he went on smoothly as though he had not noticed her slight withdrawal. “Mrs. Arbuthnot pre-empted the presentation of my humble suit. You must never feel that anything else was ever my intention.”
He paused, put out a hand and brought her to a stop. His expression was full of intensity.
“In saying you will be my wife, you have fulfilled my wildest hopes.”
Justina swallowed hard and her heart sank.
He had given her no opportunity to express the wish to be given a little time to consider whether she really wished to be engaged to him.
He was so very handsome, so debonair and carried himself so well. Any girl should be wild with excitement that he wanted her to be his wife.
Mrs. Arbuthnot had declared he was the most eligible of bachelors. Married to Sir Thomas Watson, she would be rich, secure and able to fulfil all her ambitions.
Mama and Papa would be free from worrying about her future. She would run her own household and make Sir Thomas’s life comfortable.
She should be exultant.
He was waiting for her to say something.
What could she say?
That she could never be happy married to him because he was not Lord Castleton?
“You are very kind, sir,” she said in a small voice. “As you say, it has all happened so very quickly. I-I need a little time to adjust.”
An ugly expression came over his face and he gripped her arm.
At that moment a couple of girls rushed up.
“Miss Mansell, is it not? And Sir Thomas Watson?” They gazed up at him with admiration in their eyes. “We are part of the Entertainment’s Committee. It has just been formed. There is to be a concert. Do say you will perform? We have heard Miss Mansell is such a good pianist and that you, Sir Thomas, sing divinely. You must, we insist you must – do say yes.”
“Why, of course we will,” Sir Thomas agreed immediately.
“And will you come with us now? We are to have a rehearsal in the Lounge.”
Justina was not sorry to have her tête-à-tête with Sir Thomas interrupted. And he looked pleased to be applied to in such an enthusiastic way.
As they made their way off the Promenade Deck, Sir Thomas announced that he must collect his music and left her. Justina, too, went to collect hers.
Returning and attempting to open the Lounge door, the collection of sheets slipped out of her grasp and fell on the floor.
She bent to pick it up.
“Let me help you,” came a voice and there was Lord Castleton.
“Oh, thank you,” gasped Justina, taking the music from him.
He put a hand beneath her elbow to help her rise and his touch was like fire.
“Are you going in to practice again?”
Justina found herself telling him about the concert.
“They are looking for volunteers.”
From somewhere unexpected courage arose and she continued,
“Could we, perhaps, perform the Schumann duet we played the other day?”
For a moment he stood without speaking and an unidentifiable wave of emotion washed through her. It was as though her bones were melting and the blood in her veins was sinking to the soles of her feet.
Then, in an indifferent voice, he replied,
“I think not, Miss Mansell. There will be more than sufficient talent to entertain those aboard. I shall not be required. Good day to you.”
He strode off, leaving Justina looking despairingly after him.
There was no hope, of course, that he could ever have felt for her what she now knew she felt for him, but she had hoped it would be possible for them to remain friends.
“Waiting for me, that’s a good girl,” trumpeted Sir Thomas, arriving with a music case under his arm.
He gripped her elbow possessively and ushered her into the Lounge.
There, two commanding women had taken charge.
They announced themselves as highly experienced travellers and that a happy ship was one where everyone was kept occupied.
Justina was prevailed upon to perform a Chopin Mazurka.
“Something lively is ideal,” said Mrs. Russell, one of the commanding women.
After the last of the passengers had performed, they were told,
“You are all very talented but I hope that you will all practice hard before the actual night. We will inform you of the running order and then we shall have a proper rehearsal.”
It all helped Justina put behind her the unfortunate encounter with Lord Castleton.
At lunch Faith was sulking.
“I had to exercise Muffin all on my own this morning,” she moaned. “Lord Castleton was nowhere about.”
“You should have let me accompany you, instead of saying you were perfe
ctly happy on your own,” put in Charity, sounding righteous.
“Now, girls,” intervened Mrs. Arbuthnot. “Why not find Lord Castleton, Faith, my dear, and suggest that tomorrow you go together? I am sure he would welcome some company.”
Justina sat silent, relieved to be without the company of Sir Thomas for a while.
“Now, Justina, my dear, we shall, of course, dine with your fiancé this evening. Will you want to announce your engagement? I am sure I would in your place, such a coup, the whole ship will be a-flutter.”
Justina looked at her in astonishment.
“I cannot possibly announce any engagement until my father has given his consent. Sir Thomas must write to him and ask for my hand.”
Mrs Arbuthnot looked agitated.
“Do you really think that is necessary? I mean, he certainly will not oppose so advantageous a match.”
Justina knew exactly what to say.
“My aunt, the Viscountess, would think any other way of behaving would not be at all comme-il-faut. She would insist we followed the proper paths.”
“Oh, dear Lady Elder, of course, of course. Well, girls, we shall have to keep our delicious little secret for a while longer, it seems.”
“Just as well, otherwise Justina would get all the attention,” said Charity.
“But it would remove her from the roll call of eligible girls,” protested Faith
Justina gave a great sigh.
When the weather had been rough and the ship battling against the elements, the voyage had promised excitement and unexpected pleasures, with all the anticipated delights of India at its finish.
Now, for her, all had been ruined.
CHAPTER SEVEN
After luncheon Sir Thomas persuaded Justina to take another turn around the deck with him.
When she told him that no engagement could be announced until he had applied to her father for her hand in marriage, he was not pleased.
“This is preposterous,” he exclaimed. “You are mine and I want the whole world and certainly this ship to know about it.”
“My father would never countenance such a way of proceeding,” responded Justina firmly.
If only she could stave off an official announcement of their engagement, there was the faint possibility that Sir Thomas might find someone else more to his liking.
Sir Thomas’s face darkened suddenly.
“Who has told you our engagement should not be immediately announced,” he snorted and caught hold of her arm in his strong grip.
Justina gasped in pain.
“You’re hurting me,” she protested.
A couple of passengers were approaching and he immediately released her.
“I am sorry, but I need you to answer my question. Who told you to say our engagement should not be announced immediately? And don’t tell me it was Mrs. Arbuthnot.”
“No, indeed, it was I who said it to her. Though why you should be so convinced it was her, I do not understand. After all, she is my chaperone. You cannot think,” she went on, becoming indignant, “that any well brought up girl would announce that she was engaged before her father had given his consent?”
He was silent for several minutes, looking at her, his eyes narrowed, one hand massaging the fist that the other had formed.
“Did you not think that you would have to write to Papa?” Justina added. She wanted to ask him, “How do you think a gentleman normally behaves?” but felt she had done enough to make it plain to him.
“Of course I am writing to your father,” he came back smoothly, letting his hands fall to his side. “I am fully aware of my duty. There are, after all, a number of formalities to be gone through.”
Only later did Justina wonder what he meant by this.
“And no doubt you, too, will be writing to express your delight at receiving my offer.”
Justina had agonised already over the letter she had to write, but so far she had not managed to put pen to paper.
“It will be posted in Malta,” she said slowly. “I believe we call in there in a few days time.”
He nodded.
“We put into Valletta, the Capital. It is a beautiful place and I shall look forward to showing you around.”
He hesitated a moment and then said,
“I cannot imagine that letters sent from Malta would receive a reply until some time after we land in Bombay.”
“No,” Justina agreed, trying to sound sad.
“However,” Sir Thomas resumed, slipping a hand underneath her elbow and guiding her into continuing their walk. “We shall still be engaged. Nothing can change that. We shall dine together and dance together in the evenings. During the daytime we shall be able to promenade.”
He brought out a watch from a pocket in his blazer.
“However, shortly I am due to play whist. You may have wondered what I am doing when not on the deck or in the Lounge?”
It had not occurred to Justina to speculate about how Sir Thomas spent his time. She realised now that she had never looked for his companionship.
“I am in the top rank of whist players and spend many pleasant hours at the card table. If I do not always dance attendance on you, you are not to assume that I am with other girls.”
Justina’s first thought was relief that he would not be insisting on her company the whole time. Then she reflected how strange it would be to suspect that the man who said he loved her so passionately could be spending time with another girl.
“It might be natural for you to think that as there are some very attractive females emerging now that the sea has calmed down,” Sir Thomas added, lifting his yachting cap to a girl in her early twenties on the deck.
“But none so beautiful as you, my dearest Justina. You are the light of my life and I am sure that others will soon realise that you are mine.”
It should have been delightful to hear such compliments, but Sir Thomas spoke so passionately that Justina felt frightened.
He looked again at his watch.
“Now I have to leave you, but only until dinner. You will perhaps occupy yourself with your sketch book.”
It sounded more like an instruction than a suggestion.
And she resented being told what to do.
For the briefest of moments she wondered whether she would go to the kennel deck and exercise Muffin.
Then she realised that what she really wanted was to see Lord Castleton again.
*
Over the next few days, as the ship sailed nearer and nearer to Malta, Justina struggled with her letter to her parents.
Each day, as she spent more time with Sir Thomas, she was made more and more aware of his autocratic nature.
If she suggested they might play a game of deck quoits with the Arbuthnot girls and the Subalterns, he would tell her he wanted to rehearse the songs he was to sing in the concert.
If, however, she proposed that they rehearse together, he declared that he was committed to playing whist.
Every night either Sir Thomas dined at the Arbuthnot table or they dined at his.
The Arbuthnots would listen to his tales of Bombay with seeming fascination. Justina soon tired of stories that always featured Sir Thomas in some heroic light or demeaned some poor Indian.
At first, Justina had produced questions, eager to understand more of the intriguing land that was India. In the early days of their relationship, Sir Thomas had responded in detail.
Now he grew impatient with her thirst for knowledge and expected her to produce the sort of admiring comments that Faith and Charity were always making.
Dancing with her after dinner one night, he once again made the suggestion that they went outside.
“Everyone is fascinated with the moon,” he said, holding her closely. “It is almost full and painting a silver path upon the sea.”
It sounded wonderful and Justina allowed Sir Thomas to take her onto the deck.
The sight was indeed beautiful, the sky a velvety darkness, the moo
n hanging low in the sky, spreading a silken veil of light over ship and sea, its reflection luminous on the water.
There were other passengers on deck, appreciating the lovely scene, but Sir Thomas soon guided her into one of the many shadowy areas.
There he pulled Justina into his arms and pressed a passionate kiss onto her. Taken by surprise, she could not object, but as his mouth ground into hers she started to struggle.
She felt none of the rapture she had always assumed came when you were kissed by an attractive man – rather a fierce repulsion filled her.
Her attempts to free herself only seemed to excite him further.
Eventually he raised his head, but continued to hold her hard against him.
“No, my dear little Justina,” he gurgled, his voice slurred. “You cannot refuse me. I am your fiancé and I have the right to expect a goodnight kiss from you.”
His eyelids were half closed, his mouth full and sensual.
Hopelessness coursed through her.
Is this what love was about? How was she to cope with his demands?
A cry suddenly rent the night air. It was a cry full of horror.
People came running onto the deck to see what was the matter.
Sir Thomas had no option but to release Justina and she found herself running with the others.
A woman was standing in a quiet corner towards the stern of the ship.
“It was Charlie,” she kept crying. “My Charlie. He was there, I swear it, he was there.”
Patience Wright came up, followed by her husband.
“My dear Mrs. Partridge, there is no one there. You are distressed. Come with me, we will find the Major.”
She put her arm round the woman.
Justina had noticed Mrs. Partridge after the ship had sailed from Gibraltar. Slender and very pale, she carried an air of tragedy around with her. She was accompanied by her husband, a military man of quiet dignity. He looked after her with great care but said very little. Now he hurried up.
A moment later his wife was weeping in his arms.
“Poor woman,” said someone standing beside Justina. “She will never get over the loss of her son. They came over from India to visit his grave. Died in school of a fever. They hadn’t seen him since he left Calcutta two years ago.”
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