The Captain's Wallflower

by Audrey Harrison

  As if Samson sensed there was something different about his master, he crawled out from underneath the bed that had been his home since the accident and stood, putting his two front paws on the bed, raising himself to Alexander’s level.

  Alexander stroked the dog, admiring the fine specimen that he owned. It was no wonder that Sir Jeremy had been keen to obtain him; he looked strong and capable. Alexander held no ill-feeling towards the dog; what had happened had been an accident not a malicious act, and it meant that Alexander was able to see things he had never expected to since the battle.

  Samson whined slightly and, although Alexander quietened him, the sound was enough to wake Amelia. “Captain Worthington! You are awake; I’m sorry! I must have fallen asleep,” she stumbled, flushing and stretching out her aching limbs.

  Alexander suppressed a smile; she was blushing even though she had no idea he could see her. The flush brightened her colouring, which made Alexander long to be the one to cause all her blushes. Her eyes were deep brown and, even though she had spent two days in a sick room, they shone with intelligence. It was no wonder her aunt had not wished to promote her; from what Alexander could remember of Serena Basingstoke, there was no comparison to Amelia. Serena might be more classically pretty, but Amelia’s inner self shone through, and she was very attractive because of it.

  He wanted to tell her he was looking at her for the first time, but he held his counsel. He needed to sort other things out first; he was not quite ready to be honest about what had happened. “Don’t fret. There was no need for you to stay with me; I’ve slept all night,” he said, still quietly. Although the headache had eased since his long sleep, there was still a painful dull throb.

  “I wanted to make sure that when you awoke, there was someone nearby to tend to you.”

  “Thank you. That is a very kind thought; you always seem to be looking after me.”

  “It’s no trouble,” Amelia said, flushing once more.

  “You are being very polite; I’ve been a lot of trouble, and I’m afraid it’s going to continue,” Alexander said.

  “Oh?”

  “I need to speak to Doctor Johnson this morning, and then I’ll know more fully how things stand.”

  Mr Basingstoke knocked and entered the bedchamber. “How is the patient this morning?” he asked the pair.

  “Slightly more able to have a conversation than I was yesterday, sir,” Alexander replied. He watched Mr Basingstoke look at his daughter, and he saw concern in his expression. He had struggled to communicate with others since his accident, but even on such a small interaction he realised just how much being totally blind truly debilitated a person. Mr Basingstoke had sounded cheerful enough, but it was clear from his expression something was troubling him.

  “I’m glad to hear it. Amelia, I shall sit with the Captain while you go and refresh yourself,” Mr Basingstoke instructed. “Take your time; I’m in no hurry.”

  Amelia did not look happy at her father’s final words, but she left the room without saying anything. It was the first time Alexander had seen her stand, and her deportment was elegant. Her clothing was crumpled, which was only to be expected. The material was a practical cotton rather than the high quality muslins that young ladies with funds to spare wore. The simple, creased dress did not detract from the grace of her movements. Now was not the time to ponder too deeply, but the thought crossed his mind that his acquaintances had let someone special slip through their grasp.

  Alexander turned to Mr Basingstoke when the door closed. “I’m expecting Richard and Doctor Johnson but, before they arrive, I need to ask you something.”

  “I’m all ears,” Mr Basingstoke said pleasantly.

  “Doctor Johnson explained my options clearly last night; he allowed me the night to decide what I want to do.”

  “And have you decided?”

  “Yes, but one of the courses I have decided on is that, instead of travelling to London for the operation I don’t see a way of avoiding, I have it here. Doctor Johnson had doubts as to whether it would be wise to undertake the journey with objects floating around in my head as they are. I’m hoping he’ll be able to persuade the additional doctor he needs to travel to Charmouth. My imposition is this: Would you be able to accommodate the procedure taking place here? I know it is a unique request, but I’m confident I will be unlikely to have to battle infections that I would risk staying in an inn on the journey to London, even if I survived the journey.”

  “I see. Of course, you may stay here for as long as you need. I’m just sorry you are facing this at this time of year,” Mr Basingstoke said.

  “Thank you. Christmas has not been a good time for me these past few years. Last year I was not in a good place, being angry at everyone for what I’d lost.”

  “It can’t have been easy.”

  “I think I made it harder on myself,” Alexander said sheepishly. “There is one other thing though—” Alexander faltered.

  “I’m listening,” Mr Basingstoke said gently.

  “The chances of—,the risks that I will face—,I may not—,” Alexander struggled to say the words, not because he was afraid of what he had to face but because he was realising he would never be with Amelia, and the tightness in his chest at the thought made it difficult to speak.

  Putting the stilted speech down to understandable fear, Mr Basingstoke leaned across and patted Alexander’s arm. “We will pray that you’ll come through the operation and have the opportunity to enjoy future Christmases.”

  “Thank you, sir. I would appreciate that,” Alexander said quietly.

  The conversation was interrupted by Richard’s arrival. Mr Basingstoke made his excuses, presuming Alexander would wish to speak to his friend. Alexander did not tell Richard the news that he could see; it was as if voicing what he had, he would have it taken away from him.

  Richard listened in silence until Alexander had explained fully what he had been told and what he had decided. When Alexander had finished speaking, Richard shook his head. “Alex, it’s too much of a risk. Don’t have the operation.”

  “I haven’t got a choice, Richard,” Alexander explained patiently. “If I don’t have the operation, I basically stay in this position for the rest of my life; afraid to move in case the metal moves again and kills me outright. I would rather die trying to fix things than die at an unknown time or day. You know full well that this past year I was living a half-life until I found Samson; my prison walls can’t close in even further. It would drive me insane; I’ve no doubt about that.”

  “I can see that but, from what you’ve said, the risks are great for an operation. The doctor would be scrambling about inside your head!”

  Alexander smiled. “I wouldn’t have described it quite like that but, yes, they are going to be delving into my head. Richard, you know me, I would rather meet death face on, than letting it sneak up on me. I’ve been through enough to know I can’t be like this for the remainder of my days; I would ask you to shoot me now if that were the case.”

  His eyes flew to the bedchamber door as he heard a gasp at his words. Unbeknownst to him, Amelia had entered the room whilst he was speaking, and it was obvious from her stricken expression that she had heard too much.

  “Miss Basingstoke—,” Alexander started, not really sure how to make the situation better.

  “I had just come in to persuade Samson to come outside with me. I thought he would appreciate a walk,” Amelia responded, trying to appear calm. She had no right to feel the way she did; he was not hers, and she had not heard the full conversation. There might have been important information that had been said; she could not judge on one overheard snippet of conversation.

  “About what you heard—,” Alexander continued.

  “It is none of my business; whatever decisions you have to make, you will be supported in them,” Amelia said firmly.

  “Thank you, I appreciate your words.” Alexander wanted to reach out to her; she looked pale and drawn, all spa
rkle gone from her eyes.

  “Samson! Come here boy,” Amelia said. Samson followed Amelia out of the bedchamber. He was sensitive enough to know something was wrong with Amelia and responded to her. In some respects Samson was astute enough to know his presence could offer comfort to Amelia.

  “I expected at least a fainting fit after what she must have heard,” Richard said when he was sure Amelia would not overhear him.

  “Like everyone else in our circle, you underestimate her,” Alexander said quietly.

  Richard looked at his friend closely. “There is something different about you, Alex, and I can’t put my finger on it.”

  Alexander paused before speaking. “Well, I suppose you’ve never seen me laid up like this.”

  “No, it’s not that,” Richard said with a frown. “I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something.”

  Alexander had the perfect opportunity to say what had happened, but he still chose to hold his counsel. Whether it was fear of it disappearing that kept him quiet, or something else, Alexander did not have the strength to ponder. He had more pressing things to sort out first.

  “Richard, I need you to do something for me, and I don’t want a long discussion about it,” Alexander said, changing the subject.

  “Go on,” Richard said, with a sinking feeling in his heart.

  “I need you to write my will, so that I can sign it,” Alexander said.

  “Have you not already made a will?”

  “Yes, but I want to make some changes.”

  “Alex—,”

  “Don’t, Richard,” Alexander said his tone sharp. He held his hand up to stop any further interruptions from Richard. “I don’t want to hear it. She has done more for me than any of my former friends. She helped and asked nothing in return. Who else would do that? If I don’t survive, I want at least to know that her future is secured.”

  “You aren’t thinking straight,” Richard responded belligerently. He liked Miss Basingstoke, and he could acknowledge what she had done for his friend, but leaving her the fortune that Alexander now had because of his lucrative naval career before Trafalgar was an excessive way of saying thanks.

  Alexander felt anger bubbling inside at Richard’s words; Richard had no right trying to influence him at this point in his life. “I want your word as my oldest friend, Richard, that you will do as I ask, and if I don’t survive, you will carry out my wishes.” He noticed the deep frown on Richard’s face. “It is my decision and mine alone to make,” he said, knowing because of Richard’s expression he had to push the point.

  “Fine,” Richard eventually said.

  “Your word?” Alexander persisted. He knew that even if he died, if Richard had given his word, he would not go against the new will.

  Richard sighed. “Yes, I give you my word that I will execute your will as you desire, whatever my feelings on the matter.”

  “Thank you.” Alexander then dictated what he wanted Richard to write on paper they obtained from the top drawer in the chest beside the bed. When Alexander had signed the document and Richard and Doctor Johnson signed it on the doctor’s arrival, it felt as if a weight had been lifted from Alexander’s shoulders. She would be cared for whatever the outcome; that was all that mattered.

  Richard remained in the room whilst Doctor Johnson checked Alexander. The doctor had been quick to notice neither friend was mentioning Alexander’s sight, so he disguised his questions about Alexander’s reduced levels of blindness enough so that Richard did not guess what had happened. He understood that Alexander might not feel ready to tell everyone the latest development.

  “So, you wish for the operation to go ahead, and it is to happen here?” Doctor Johnson confirmed.

  “Yes. How soon do you think Doctor Clarke will be able to get here?” The sooner the operation was over the better in Alexander’s opinion, whatever the outcome. Now that he had made the decision, he did not wish for days to pass where there was too much time to ponder what could happen.

  “I took an educated guess at what your decision would be; I haven’t doctored you for months without learning some of your character. I sent an express to Doctor Clarke last night after leaving here. I also had second thoughts about trying to move you to London. The risks don’t justify the move. I’ve received a note from Doctor Clarke; he is already on his way.”

  “Good.”

  “I’m going to plan the operation for the day after tomorrow,” Doctor Johnson continued. “I need this room scrubbed within an inch of its life. I want every surface scrubbed until it shines, and no dogs are allowed in until after the operation and even then not immediately. The room appears clean, but the cleaner it can be, the less likely you will catch an infection during and after the operation.”

  “Good luck with telling your hosts their room is not clean enough,” Richard said with a smirk.

  “Yes, not the most welcome conversation to have with virtual strangers,” Alexander acknowledged. “I hope Miss Basingstoke understands it is not a slur on her family.”

  “There is one other thing I need your agreement on,” Doctor Johnson continued. “I know you dislike laudanum, but you are going to have to accept it for at least the first few days after the operation. The pain will be too great to try and brave it out.”

  “I hate the stuff! I’ve seen too many good sailors become addicted to it after suffering an injury,” Alexander growled.

  “Well, you need it in this instance. The likelihood is that you will suffer from headaches for quite some time after the operation. I don’t want persistent pain to weaken you.”

  “I’m not staying on it for months or even weeks! You have my agreement for a few days; that is all.”

  “As you wish; a few days should help.” the doctor acceded.

  *

  It was decided that Amelia’s room would be the place where the operation would take place. That way it could be cleaned thoroughly before anyone entered. Amelia was to sleep on a made-up bed in her mother’s bedchamber whilst her room was being used.

  Alexander tried to argue against the proposal when he was alone with Amelia during the early evening. “I don’t want to cause even more disruption than I’m already doing. You need to keep your bedchamber.”

  “This is the easiest way for the staff to be able to clean thoroughly. With you living in this room, and people coming to visit, it can never be completely clean,” Amelia patiently explained. He would also not see her helping; the Basingstoke’s did not have many staff and, to help with their extra load, Amelia and her mother would be assisting with the preparation of the room.

  Alexander groaned; he would have to say what he was really worried about. “Miss Basingstoke, I could die during the operation. I would die in your room; that is not the last memory I wish you to have of me.”

  Amelia flushed, and her eyes filled with tears. She brushed them away, annoyed with her weakness, although it was no real surprise; she was hardly sleeping. No wonder she was acting like a weak and feeble miss. She squared her shoulders; it was time to say what she felt. “If that is what’s going to happen then I would rather it happen in my bedchamber. I would be able to feel close to you even if you weren’t there,” she said quietly.

  “Miss Basingstoke—, Amelia—,” Alexander started.

  The door opened, and William Basingstoke popped his head around. “Are hero-struck visitors allowed?” he asked with a grin.

  Alexander had growled at the interruption, but he did not stay angry for long. He turned to the door, noticing the new arrival was very like Amelia with chestnut hair and sparkling brown eyes. Alexander immediately smiled at the impish quality of the boy and regretted that he had not been able to see Amelia when she had teased him in London. Their conversation at the moment was far too serious because of the circumstances. He longed to be able to actually see her at her playful best.

  “I could never refuse hero-worship, however misplaced,” Alexander said.

  Amelia had squealed and
run around the bed to envelope William in a hug. “You made it! Oh, how good it is to see you!” She kissed her brother’s face until he grimaced.

  Alexander was suddenly very jealous of the young man. “How’s the Agamemnon?” he asked, trying to be magnanimous about a brother receiving affection after a long absence at sea. The fact that Alexander would have done anything to swap places with William for both instances he pushed aside; to envy the young man was uncharitable.

  “In the dock, again, Sir,” William replied looking over Amelia’s shoulder. “Sister, be still!” he laughed.

  “It’s been too long, and you never write!” Amelia chastised good-naturedly.

  “I write to Mother, occasionally,” William said with a grimace.

  “Sailors!” Amelia muttered.

  “You are outnumbered, Miss Basingstoke; I would be careful with your censure,” Alexander responded with a smile. “Mr Basingstoke, I’m pleased to meet you; your sister is very proud of you.”

  “She hides it well,” William responded with a smile at Amelia. “How are you Captain? It seems you continue to suffer the effects of Trafalgar.”

  “I do, unfortunately,” Alexander admitted. “I will curse that French frigate until my dying day!”

  “There will be more than you to do that. The navy is worse off without you in its ranks,” William said seriously.

  “Thank you, but there has always been a surplus of very good commanders. Your sister has high hopes for you!”

  William laughed. “She’s lovely but deluded.”

  Amelia pulled a face at William, which Alexander was delighted to be able to observe. It was being able to really watch her that was giving him insights into her personality he would never have glimpsed without sight. He was once again reminded of how disadvantaged he had been and offered a prayer of thanks for the ability to see, even though it might last only a few days.