The Captain's Wallflower

by Audrey Harrison

  “Now, I know if you two sailors were left together you would spend the remainder of the day reminiscing, but it is time for us to leave you in peace for a little while. You’re beginning to look tired, and I don’t want Doctor Johnson taking us to task,” Amelia said gently.

  “I don’t feel tired,” Alexander responded. If he was left alone, he would dwell on what might happen; having Amelia near him, he was able to forget everything and just enjoy her company.

  “You start to go grey around the edges when everything is getting too much for you. It isn’t an attractive look even for a fearless sailor such as yourself,” Amelia responded with an arch look. “I shall return soon.”

  “I thought you were supposed to flatter and indulge me? I’m on my sickbed after all,” Alexander said with a feigned sulk.

  “Why? Telling the truth has a far better reaction,” Amelia said with a grin.

  “You haven’t got a sister have you, Captain?” William asked.

  “No.”

  “You’ll soon learn they have claws to match any cat,” came the disparaging reply.

  “Please excuse us, Captain Worthington. I need to sharpen my claws on my brother. I will return in a short time, but please try to sleep. You will feel all the better for it.”

  Amelia and William walked out of the room together in silence until they reached the top of the staircase. Below they could hear the muffled sounds of conversation; the family was never quiet when together, and the added excitement of them all spending a Christmas together had increased the volume of jollity. William took hold of Amelia’s hand and squeezed it gently.

  “What was that for?” Amelia asked, but she had flushed a little at the action.

  “You are sweet on the Captain. I hope he comes through for you,” William said, his voice low.

  Amelia’s eyes once more filled with tears. “He’s been told there is a good chance he won’t survive the operation. I keep trying to make a bargain with God in that I will never ask for anything else of Him as long as Captain Worthington survives.”

  William smiled slightly. “I don’t think it works that way; at least I hope it doesn’t.”

  “I don’t care how it works, I just want him to live!”

  “If you’d seen some of the injuries after Trafalgar, you would realise he was lucky to survive. He is strong; that must go some way in his favour.”

  “I hope so, William. I know my place in society; I know I’m not his equal in any respect, but to face a world where he is not living seems unbearable.”

  “I don’t like to hear you speak in such a way; of course, you are his equal. He’s had to rise through the ranks just as we all do,” William said with disgust. “But there is no point arguing with you while you have so much on your mind. But believe me, we shall revisit that when this is all over.”

  Chapter 12

  The conversation with Doctor Clarke was always going to be a difficult one for Alexander. There was a difference between making a decision to take actions that could result in death and actually setting the plan in motion.

  “I hope we will soon find the piece of metal that has decided to move,” Doctor Clarke said. He was a young man of about thirty. His manner was confident, that of a man sure of his own abilities. “I will need to reopen the scar tissue and gain access to the skull that way. I’m hoping the metal will have created its own opening in the skull that I will be able to use to access it.”

  “But it must have moved,” Alexander said, feeling slightly queasy at the thought of holes in skulls.

  “In cases such as this, movement could be of the tiniest fraction. I’m hoping to still be able to see the offending piece.”

  “And if you don’t?”

  “I may need to drill a little wider, but not too wide,” Doctor Clarke said cheerfully. “We don’t wish to dig too much. It’s not good to leave holes where there aren’t supposed to be any.”

  “What is the reality about my survival?”

  Doctor Clarke became serious. “It depends on how much searching I have to do or where the offending piece has moved to. If it is already embedded in the brain, things will get tricky although I’m hopeful it hasn’t because we aren’t seeing any symptoms to suggest it has.”

  “You mean I’m still alive?” Alexander responded gruffly.

  “That and you are able to speak, move and function as you did prior to this happening. There are a lot of stages between being alive and dying, Captain Worthington,” Doctor Clarke said sympathetically.

  “Can I speak to Miss Basingstoke and Mr Critchley before we start?” Alexander asked. He was still in the room that had become his home over the last few days. The doctor had already explained that once he was moved into Amelia’s bedchamber, there would be no contact with the outside world for a while.

  “Of course. We will prepare for you. Two of Mr Basingstoke’s sons will help you through to the other bedchamber whenever you are ready,” Doctor Johnson said.

  Richard and Amelia both came into the room looking pale and drawn. Alexander held out his hand to Richard, who clasped it to his chest all bravado gone from the easy-going character. “Are you sure about this Alex? It isn’t too late to change your mind.”

  “I don’t have any other choice; we both know that,” Alexander said patiently. “Richard, if the worst should happen, please explain to my brother and his family. Make them understand that I was not throwing my life away.”

  “I will.” Gone was Richard’s easy manner; he was fully aware of the dangers of the coming hours, and if Alexander was lucky enough to survive the operation, the days that followed.

  “Remember your promise to me,” Alexander said firmly.

  “I gave you my word,” Richard responded with a quick glance at Amelia.

  “Good man. You’ve been the best of friends, Richard. Now it is time for you to leave me. See you soon my friend,” Alexander said, squeezing Richard’s hand and then releasing it.

  “Take care, Alex,” Richard responded, before bowing and leaving the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

  Amelia sighed, trying to think of something meaningful to say, but her ready wit and easy nature had deserted her in the panic that this might be the last time she saw him.

  “Miss Basingstoke— Amelia, please come closer,” Alexander said, reaching out for her. Amelia placed her hand in his and was pulled gently towards the bed. “I wanted the visit to your home to be so much different than it has turned out.”

  “No one could anticipate what happened,” Amelia responded.

  “Will you be waiting for me when I come round?”

  Amelia’s barely checked tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. “Yes,” she responded quietly.

  “Don’t cry,” Alexander said softly. “If I don’t survive at least I have known you for a little while; I shall always be thankful for that. I have only one thing to ask of you before I get taken through.”

  Amelia looked in surprise at Alexander; she had hoped to disguise her voice enough so that he would not realise she was crying. Her control obviously was not as good as she had hoped. “What can I do for you?”

  “Kiss me. Kiss me like we should have been kissing since your first season, only I was blind even then.”

  “Arrogant perhaps, not blind,” Amelia could not resist saying with a watery smile.

  Alexander chuckled. “Come here, you impudent chit.” He tugged sharply at Amelia’s hand, and she fell onto his chest, gasping in surprise. “Kiss me Amelia,” Alexander whispered before touching his lips to hers.

  Pulling away never entered Amelia’s thoughts. As she felt the lips that she’d dreamed about for nearly three years, she put her hands around Alexander’s neck and deepened the kiss. Alexander groaned, pulling Amelia closer, running his hands along her body. The kisses were intense, full of passion, expressing the longing and fear that could not be voiced.

  Both had wanted the embrace to happen. Alexander had not been longing for the months, even years
, that Amelia had but since he had first spoken to her on that fateful night, he had wanted to touch her, to feel her. He explored her mouth fully, teasing her and pushing aside any hesitation her inexperience caused as she returned his kisses. Alexander brushed his long nose against her small, button-shaped one and nibbled her lips.

  “You’re beautiful; never forget that,” Alexander whispered.

  “You don’t need to say that,” Amelia replied.

  “I want to because it is the truth,” Alexander insisted. “Never doubt that I appreciate everything about you from the way you make me laugh to the way you hold yourself when you walk.”

  “But—,” Amelia started.

  “There’s nothing else to add. I think you are the most beautiful person I have ever met, and if I am fortunate enough to get through the coming days I promise to kiss you more. A lot more,” Alexander said, ending his words with a kiss that felt as if he had poured every last emotion he had within him into it.

  A gentle knock on the door made Amelia spring up from her half-lying, half-standing position on Alexander’s chest. She turned from the doorway, knowing it was time for him to leave her.

  “Captain, are you ready?” William asked.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” Alexander replied; the pounding of his heart had nothing to do with nerves at what was to come. “Wish me luck,” he said quietly to Amelia as the door was opened fully, and William and Peter entered.

  “Don’t leave me,” Amelia whispered, knowing her words were heard by her brothers, but it was no longer the time for hesitation.

  *

  The drawing room was the focus of attention for the next few hours. If Amelia and Richard could have had their way they would have stayed outside the bedchamber door that the two doctor’s worked behind. Mr Basingstoke insisted they would only cause distractions and directed them both to the drawing room.

  Amelia sat close to Richard. They had not got off on the best of starts because of Amelia’s London family, but they were united in wanting the best outcome for Alexander. Occasionally one of them would reach out and squeeze the hand of the other in reassurance.

  Mrs Basingstoke retired to her room; she did not like to be distressed and could ignore the sombre mood of the house if she removed herself from it. The brothers that were already home entertained themselves quietly. All had met the Captain and each had their suspicions about his interest in their sister. Samson stayed next to Amelia. Whenever she moved, he moved. Each time she did not lead him to his owner he would settle down with a heartfelt sigh and continue watching the door. It had been a battle to prevent him from entering Amelia’s bedchamber when Alexander had been carried in, but for once Samson had been held back.

  Amelia spent the time worrying herself sick and replaying the kisses they had shared. She put it down to fear of dying that had caused Alexander to act in such a way, but she could not quite suppress the bubble of happiness that emerged every time she replayed the memory of having her lips ravished by the man of her dreams. She would not presume anything more would happen, even if he did survive his latest ordeal, but she would be eternally thankful the kisses had occurred.

  The clock struck six before Doctor Johnson entered the drawing room. Four hours had passed since the door to the improvised operating theatre had been closed on the world. All eyes turned to him, no one speaking until he had. “He has survived the operation,” Doctor Johnson said, aiming his words to Amelia and Richard. “He was lucky that the fragment was relatively easy to find.”

  “Lady luck saves him again,” Richard said, but his voice was choked with emotion.

  “The next few days will be critical,” Doctor Johnson continued. “I will attend him for the next few hours. Doctor Clarke is preparing to leave; there is nothing more he can do; only time and nursing can help him now.”

  “Can we see him?” Amelia asked. She was shaking slightly, and Richard put his arm around her in support. They had moved beyond the social niceties usually shared by slight acquaintances.

  “No, I’m afraid not. I want to try and avoid him getting a fever; he would be too weak to fight it. When he is past the next day or so, maybe. For now, the only people allowed in the room are myself and Peterson, his valet. He will be providing the nursing care.”

  Mr Basingstoke left the room with the doctor, and the brothers continued with their game, allowing Amelia and Richard a little privacy. “He’s alive,” Amelia whispered.

  “Thank God,” Richard said with feeling. Amelia took a few deep breaths. “Miss Basingstoke, are you feeling ill?”

  “I feel a little overwrought,” Amelia acknowledged, putting her hand on her chest to try and remain in control. She had the overwhelming urge to burst into tears, something she would never normally do. “I need to leave the room before I embarrass myself, Mr Critchley. Please excuse me.” Amelia stood and moved to the door. William followed her, indicating to Richard that he should not follow as the young man had seemed inclined to do.

  “Come here, sister of mine,” William said gently as he reached Amelia who had paused at the bottom of the stairs as if not quite sure of what to do. Normally she would have sought solace in her own bedchamber, but she could not at the moment. William wrapped his arms around her and held her as her body shook while she struggled to maintain control. “He’s through the worst of it. Have faith.”

  “I do! I do!” Amelia wailed, finally unable to hold her sobs back. “I was just so worried he wouldn’t make it. He’s been through so much; he didn’t deserve this!”

  “I know, sweeting, but have a hope. He might even be awake by Christmas Day, it’s only two days away. Have you thought of a present for him?” William continued to hold Amelia close.

  “No, I hadn’t let myself think that far in advance. I was too afraid I would tempt fate,” Amelia admitted shamefacedly.

  “I think you should focus on making him a present. It will give you something to do while the doctor and the gods do the rest,” William soothed.

  “You must think me a fool.”

  “No, you are my loving sister. I would expect nothing less.”

  The pair were disturbed by Richard coming out of the drawing room. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to disturb you, but I would like to send a letter to Alex’s brother. I didn’t discuss it with Alex, but I think they have a right to know what has happened, especially while he’s getting over the first hurdle.”

  “Would you like to use the study?” William offered.

  “No, thank you. I think I’d like to return to the inn for a little while. I feel suddenly tired, but if anything should change during the night, please let me know; otherwise I shall return first thing in the morning.”

  “We will let you know if anything changes,” Amelia said quietly.

  “Thank you.”

  “I think you would benefit from sleeping in my chamber tonight. Spending the night with mother will not give you the restful evening that you need,” William said.

  “But—,”

  “No arguments please. You look fit to drop. I will stay awake and, if there’s any change, you will be the first to know.”

  “Thank you,” Amelia said, before sagging into her brother, who led her gently up the stairs.

  *

  Alexander had no idea how long he had been asleep, but his head pounded as if cannons were being fired every minute from inside his brain. He had tried to awaken numerous times, but the laudanum was just too powerful, and he had been overcome with sleep time and again.

  This time felt different though; he could actually think, something lacking during previous moments of consciousness. His mouth tasted awful and as dry as a desert. He licked his lips to try and generate some saliva, but it made no difference; his tongue felt rough, thick and immovable.

  Peterson moved to his master’s bed and, with the edge of a cloth, wet Alexander’s lips. Allowing him a drink would probably result in sickness as an after effect of the laudanum.

  Alexander sighed a
s the cool water leaked slowly into his mouth. He doubted he had ever tasted anything so welcome. He blinked his eyes open, afraid to do so, but needing to know what the result of the operation was.

  The room was dark, but Alexander still had sight in his left eye. The strong, wilful determined man, who had faced the French navy without a hint of hesitation felt his lower lip wobble as his eyes filled with tears of relief. He was alive, and he had some sight! His throat constricted, and he coughed a little, feeling at the same time the tear escaping and rolling down the side of his face. He could do nothing to stop the tear; his arms felt far too heavy to move, but without saying anything, Peterson moved over and brushed the liquid away with his cloth.

  “Captain, the doctor will be here soon. He’ll be relieved to see you awake, Sir,” Peterson said, adding more liquid to the dry lips. Peterson had served Alexander since he was a boy and could only guess what his master was feeling.

  “What day?” Alexander croaked, not able to ask the full question.

  “It’s Christmas morning, Sir.”

  Alexander relaxed into his pillows, drained of energy once more. He had been asleep for two days, but he was alive; nothing else mattered. He closed his eyes and let the drug overcome him once more, thinking as he drifted into unconsciousness that he hoped Amelia would visit soon.

  Chapter 13

  Doctor Johnson had forbidden Amelia and Richard to stay more than a few minutes with Alexander when he eventually realised they were desperate to see the patient, and then he had only allowed the visit to occur during the evening of Christmas Day. The pair entered the room quietly and approached the bed.

  Amelia hung back a little; she was wary about Alexander’s reaction to her; he was no longer in the grip of feeling his time on earth might be at an end. She was not so naïve to realise that experiencing his kisses could have been an impulse on his part through being in a very trying situation.

  Alexander lay with his eyes closed. He knew exactly who had entered the room without looking in their direction; he recognised their familiar footfalls. He turned his head slightly; cannon fire was still going off inside his head, but he could move slightly, and he opened his eyes.