None But You (Frederick Wentworth, Captain: Book 1)

by Susan Kaye

  “Charles, the Captain and I were just talking and—”

  “And if you will take the horses, Charles, I will see the ladies seated. Then we will be off.” Taking Louisa by the arm, Wentworth walked her to the carriage door.

  “You are quite sure you would not like me to speak to my brother?”

  “Please watch your step, Miss Musgrove,” he said. She grasped his hand particularly close as she ascended the steps. The last in was Anne. He took care to follow her up and guide her in just the same manner. He stepped back down and asked the ladies if they were well and settled. Anne’s smile of thanks precluded his hearing their answer. Walking back to the gig, he muttered, “I should have charmed Anne, shanghaied the cart, and been done with it.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The descent into Lyme was as delightful as it had been earlier in the week. The thrill of another’s hand at the whip and reins was not lost on him. Musgrove was a decent driver and handled well the changeover from gently graded road to the steep drop into town. Looking behind, Wentworth watched the progress of the ladies’ carriage as the driver slowed to a crawl to manoeuvre the slope. He imagined the conversation inside. Mrs. Charles would be afraid and twittering. The Miss Musgroves would be alive with the novelty of the decline, and Anne would most likely be holding her sister’s hand, trying to convince her that no harm was about to befall them. He shifted in his seat to ward off the vision in his head of Anne and him, entering the town together, alone, and anticipating the enjoyment of the sights.

  The curricle came to a stop and Musgrove looked about. “Not much to catch one’s eye here.”

  Jumping down, Wentworth said, “It is not the buildings that hold the greatest delights, Charles. It is what surrounds the buildings.” Giving directions to the inn’s stable, he caught glimpses of the sea.

  In a true sailor’s heart, every yard of coastline was unique. Those tethered to the land by their breeding and occupation rarely noticed the dangers lying beneath a placid shoreline or the skill which made navigating a rocky, frothing piece of coast a death-defying adventure. No, it took a heart willing to accept the sea’s risks as well as her few comforts to fully consider her rich enchantments.

  The larger travelling carriage pulled up to the doorway of The Binnacle. The feminine voices inside seemed to be playing, to the letter, the parts he had assigned them. Anne’s muffled voice could be heard: “Mary, please, the coach has stopped. We are no longer moving.” There was laughter in the background. Though impossible to know precisely, he suspected the laughter was borne of contempt and not some innocent amusement. Soon Louisa Musgrove’s face appeared at the window, and she made a gesture with her gloved hand, the fingers working up and down as though a mouth was speaking. Her eyes were bright with laughter.

  Musgrove passed him and said to no one, “Best let them out.” There was a decided air of resignation in his voice. He helped his wife and her sister down while Wentworth went to the other side and helped the driver and man with the bags. He could hear the two girls inside, their conversation muffled. A knock on the window brought a little wave from Louisa. Henrietta looked also, lingered a moment, then an exchange between her and her sister caused her to disappear.

  “Would you please help me, Captain?” Louisa said through the glass. She pointed to the door behind her. He came around and found the others had entered The Binnacle. Even her sister had disappeared. He stood at the bottom of the step, raised a hand for her aid, and waited.

  “I seem to have lost an earring, Captain. Might you come and help me to look for it?”

  He leaned in, thinking it would be on the floor. Bending to search under the seats, he said, “I see nothing.” Straightening, he was face to face with her. The young lady had taken a seat and was not at all engaged in the search.

  Her gloves removed, she held up something shiny in her hand. “I found it.” Tilting her head a little, she replaced it on her ear. It was impossible not to hear the softness in her voice and observe the becoming curve of her neck.

  “We should get inside so we can get settled.” He winced inwardly at the statement’s cosy sound. Offering her his gloved hand, she rose, came to the door, and stood as straight as she could.

  “Jump me.” The statement was not a request, nor was it the good-natured plea that had become her custom when they walked together. It had the air of authority. Her voice implied it was his duty to give her satisfaction. The two words made claims on him.

  Noting the driver clambering down from his seat, Wentworth said, “Miss Louisa, please, let us go inside.” He extended his hand further. Rather than take his hand, she placed hers on his shoulders and stepped out. It was a long step and he unconsciously reached out to lower her down. She was now no more than a hand’s width from his face, in no hurry to remove herself from his grasp. It was undeniable that standing with her in his arms was a pleasurable sensation, but he could not help be aware of the driver’s nearness–though the man seemed to be loitering on the opposite side of the carriage. This delay did nothing to save Wentworth from the danger of her brother finding them in such a position.

  “Please, Miss…” He stepped back.

  “Please yourself.” She smiled boldly. “I believe we are well enough acquainted that you may call me ‘Louisa,’ at least when we are alone together.”

  With her eyes full of nothing but him, her look was entirely appealing. The blush of her cheeks was a prominent and sweet pink that swept clear into her hair. And the hair was falling teasingly from beneath her bonnet. She reached out the short distance between them and touched the button of his blue coat. “I am sure no one in the family would mind.”

  No one would, and that was the precise reason he must extricate himself from this circumstance immediately. But what was he to say that would not offend the young woman?

  “Hobbs!” Charles’ call to the driver pre-empted his answer. Thankfully, the moment was broken.

  “Let me take you inside. The sooner we are settled, the sooner we can see the sights.” Louisa eagerly took his proffered arm, and they entered the inn.

  “We are on the first floor, Captain,” said Musgrove. “You have a room up top. I thought you would like it as it has a view of the sea.”

  “Same as the other day, sir,” the landlord said to Wentworth.

  Taking the key, he nodded his thanks. As the group moved away to their rooms, Louisa turned and said she would be back down in an instant. Her particular attentions to him were becoming embarrassing, but this was soon swallowed up with his pity for Musgrove. When the couple mounted the steps, he heard Mrs. Charles comment that Charles might have considered her wish to have a view of the sea. Her husband’s answer was unintelligible. Before going up, Wentworth arranged for dinner and breakfast the next morning.

  He stowed his bag without bothering to unpack and savoured a quick look at the view, then went back downstairs. No one else was down as yet, and he decided to take the opportunity to smoke a cheroot. He found the door-handle to be finicky and finessed it open. Outside he was met with a stiff breeze and the low roar of the sea in the background. After the rhythm of the curricle and Musgrove’s voice, the change was quite welcome.

  Catching a whiff of the coming cold weather, he considered a winter spent in Lyme and how Harville would manage. Before long, the door-handle clattered. Perhaps the rest of the party was just as anxious to go down to the shingle as he. Reaching over, he held the handle just so and lifted. He waited for the great hubbub that followed the Musgroves, but was surprised to find only Anne looking around the door at him.

  “I wondered who to thank. The latch seems quite particular as to how it is handled,” she said, stepping out. The breeze surprised her, and she pulled her cloak close.

  His natural impulse was to quip that the door’s hardware had much in common with most women, but he instead said, “Yes, it needs a gentle hand.” He suspected his irony was not lost on either of them. He stepped forward to close the door.

 
“Pardon me,” she said, moving away.

  “Pardon me,” he countered, dropping the cheroot and grinding it out. She took up a place on the pavement and looked around. The way she held her bag and cloak made her seem very small, almost unnoticeable. “So, here we are again; waiting for the Musgroves.” It was out and within her hearing before he even knew it.

  She thought a moment, and a wry smile accompanied her reply. “Yes, again. It was necessary for Charles to change rooms, and Louisa and Henrietta are freshening up.”

  No doubt Musgrove changed rooms to keep his wife happy; she would have a room with a view regardless of the trouble. As for the young ladies, they were obviously more concerned with their appearance than looking at the scenery of Lyme.

  It occurred to him that he and Anne might start out together, though it was certainly not polite to abandon their party and some might decry two unattached persons strolling alone. To the others they were old acquaintances; he did not think anyone would question their actions. It was still daylight, and certainly they would not get much past the end of the street before the others appeared.

  “Since we seem to be the only ones interested in the sights, perhaps we might start—” A gabble of voices just preceded the jangling of the door’s hardware. Before he could reach over and assist, the door flew open and the other four of their party surrounded them. He glanced down at Anne. From her expression, had the others tarried longer, she had had every intention of accepting his suggestion.

  There was plenty of chatter about what each wished to see, but in the end, all looked to him to decide the way. They naturally fell into groups of two: he and Louisa in the front, followed by Henrietta and Anne. In the rear were Musgrove and his wife.

  “Really, Charles, we should not be following behind.”

  “Mary, this is not a royal display, and I will not leave my sister and yours to walk alone behind.”

  She lowered her voice. “You might mention to the Captain that Anne is due some deference as the eldest and her father’s daughter.”

  “Just hush, Mary. Everything is well as is. You just don’t like the Captain walking with my sister.”

  It was mortifying to overhear them speaking so freely about the two of them. He could only guess what Anne must think about such conjecturing. Pretending to brush something from his shoulder, he glanced back at her. Thankfully, she continued her conversation with Henrietta and showed no sign of hearing them. That was his hope, but he knew better.

  The supreme irony rested in the fact that it was he who had pointed out to Sophia that country proprieties were more lenient. He could now be walking with Anne if only he had appealed to stricter convention. He had locked his own shackles in this situation.

  The wind rose the closer they drew to the water’s edge. The sun was setting behind the hills and the air was cooling. He did not care about the weather, but the murmurings from the others let him know they would only stay a few minutes on the beach and then move on to Harville’s.

  The ladies stood together in a little knot and discussed how much they were missing by being so late in the season. There might be a better choice of accommodation and more activities and people to see. In all, it was a wonderful excursion, but would be much improved by experiencing it in the warmer months. Musgrove found entertainment chucking rocks in the waves. Anne, alone, seemed to be content to watch the water lap at the rocks and the sky change and darken with the sun’s setting.

  He stepped back a few paces, out of sight of the others, so he could watch her more freely. She removed her bonnet and raised her face to the breeze. Then, pulling her cloak close, she stood motionless. He could easily imagine the two of them alone, he standing behind with his arms encircling her. They had stood such a way once all those summers ago. He could still remember the warmth of her against him, her head resting in the crook of his neck. Her sighs of that summer were still a pleasure to remember.

  “Captain—!” Louisa was smiling at him and shaking his shoulder. “Captain, everyone is ready to move on.” His gaze had fallen to the stony shingle. Looking around, no one besides Louisa seemed to notice his wool-gathering. It was decided that he would go to the Harvilles’ and announce their arrival. They would see more of the sights from the pier and wait for him.

  ~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~

  The Harvilles welcomed him with the same heartiness and cheer as before, and when he told them he had brought friends, Harville, his wife, and Benwick were anxious to meet them all.

  “I am sorry to burst upon you completely unannounced this time, but the party was arranged and executed before I had a chance to send word.”

  “Captain, there is nothing to worry about. Your friends are as welcome as you,” Harville said, as Elsa helped him with his coat.

  While the three were preparing to go out, Wentworth took James aside and enquired about Timothy’s strength that day. “He’s very well as he was after you left. Elsa attributes it to your visit. She says it has been a tonic to him.”

  As they approached the Cobb, Wentworth explained the family connexions between the Elliots and the Musgroves.

  “This proves mating rituals in the country are not any different than those of the King’s Navy.”

  “Timotee! That is not a subject for polite conversation.”

  Wentworth laughed, but since the group was still a way off and he was intrigued by Harville’s conclusion, he urged him on.

  “Well, as I see it, the young squire marrying the daughter of the local gentry—a baronet in this case—is not much different than an inferior officer of the Navy marrying the sister of his superior officer. Eh, James?”

  Benwick looked stricken for a moment, then softened. “Yes, for regardless of the results, such ties strengthen the bonds between brother officers.”

  Harville clapped Wentworth on the shoulder. “Now, Captain, if you really wanted to do well for yourself, you would marry the Baronet’s other daughter. Then you’d have the Elliots’ blood and position on one hand and an alliance with the Musgroves’ money and land on the other. In no time you would have a little dynasty of your own in Somerset.” Leave it to his good friend to navigate straight, albeit blindly, into the mare’s nest presently at the centre of his thoughts.

  There was nothing to answer as they were joined by the group from Somerset. The introductions were made and, as far as Wentworth could tell, everyone was disposed to like everyone else. Timothy might as well be Lord Mayor of Lyme for his prodigious welcome of Musgrove. Mrs. Harville was gracious to the Miss Musgroves and Anne. Even Benwick put himself out and greeted them all accordingly, though he soon retreated into his customary shell.

  “Well, I feel the wind picking up, and that means my wife will insist that I be inside soon. You must all come back to the house. We shall make ourselves comfortable there while dinner is prepared.” He raised a brow to his wife, and she took the signal.

  “Certainly; the gentlemen can entertain you with all their favourite stories while I see to the meal.” Looking directly at Wentworth, she said, “I am anxious to have so many new friends in our home.”

  “You can’t be serious wanting to feed this crew,” Musgrove said. “I alone would put you in the poorhouse.” They laughed at his jest.

  “I assure you, it is no trouble. And I know for certain, Mr. Musgrove, that your party can do no damage to my larder.” Her confidence at making provision for them all gave Wentworth deep satisfaction. He wished more than anything to oblige her, but he had ordered their dinner and it would not to sour his relationship with the innkeeper of The Binnacle.

  “Well, Captain,” Harville drawled, “I shall forgive you this once, but the next time you bring such good friends to visit, you will be under firm obligation to dine with the Harvilles. Is that clear?”

  Wentworth smiled. “You take a great deal upon yourself for an inferior officer, Captain Harville, but yes, I understand perfectly.”

  “No matter that you cannot dine tonight, you must all come now and have some
thing to warm yourselves,” Elsa Harville insisted.

  The visit to the Harville home was brief. The house was so small that there was much moving of chairs and tables and enough upheaval that, when the children joined them, the atmosphere was a bit like Bedlam. It was easy to read the shocked expressions on the faces of those who had wondered about dancing and card parties and splendid dressing for dinner. He wondered if Lyme might not be a great disappointment for some of the party. Standing aside, Wentworth watched the groups mingle. Harville was in his element, excitedly entertaining them all; Benwick directed Mary in serving refreshments; and Mrs. Harville took Anne on a tour of Harville’s curiosities. He could not help observing that Anne belonged so much more with the one group than the other. Were she given the time and opportunity, she would be a perfect fit with his friends. Though she was raised amidst the elegance of Kellynch Hall, he saw she was made of finer stuff. Not that the Musgroves were not genuine. But for them, Harville and Benwick and this life were a novelty, somewhere to visit and then return home thankful for Uppercross Mansion. It would stand when the little house under the pier finally washed away. He did not blame them for such feelings; they were understandable for a family steeped in their country heritage. But Anne was a different matter all together.

  “Captain, the ladies wish to get back and change for dinner, and I’d like to see to Father’s horses before nightfall.”

  “Certainly, Musgrove.” Wentworth paid his compliments to Harville and his wife, thanked them for the hospitality, and made plans to see the gentlemen later in the evening.

  It was a relief to be out of the confines of the Harvilles’ home and into the waning sunlight and fresh air. He and Musgrove brought up the rear of the party as they walked back to the inn, leaving him free to watch the ladies. Mrs. Charles and Henrietta walked ahead, arm-in-arm, while Louisa and Anne followed. It was clear the younger woman did all the talking, and he could imagine the elder’s patient expression. A bit of the conversation floated back to the gentlemen.