Both younger gentlemen showed a tendency to stare and blush, though Tillie put that down less to guilt than their being unused to the company of ladies. She nodded to them and to the crewmen clustered about the study gawping at her.
“I’m sorry for the loss of your fellow seaman,” she said.
“I believe it’s down to the major that our losses weren’t greater,” the captain said gruffly. “And we have recovered some of our cargo. Although, sadly, the ship is gone forever.”
“I hope it does not take your livelihood with it,” Tillie said. “Did you own the ship, sir?”
“I had a share in it. But at least it was insured, so I shall buy into another.”
Tillie murmured something about wishing them all well and then, mercifully, Major Doverton was leading her back across the room. She felt she did not breathe until Mrs. Grant closed the door behind them all and led the way back to the drawing room.
Tillie’s head, her whole body, was swirling with the memory of the rolling ship. More feeling than detailed recollection, it still shattered her all over again. Only the man beside her seemed to be holding her upright.
At last, she sank down on the sofa once more.
Doverton crouched at her feet in clear concern. “What is it? What do you remember?”
“Nothing,” she whispered. “None of them seemed familiar to me. If I’ve met any of them, I don’t recall it.” She rubbed her aching forehead. “I…I just remember the weaving darkness, the sense of suffocation, of pure panic…”
She drew in a breath that was only half-sob and tried to smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t seem to be as brave as I thought I was. Or as helpful.”
Doverton pressed her hand and stood up. “Of course you are. More so than ever.”
Forcing herself, Tillie gathered her thoughts and glanced from the major to Mrs. Grant. “Did you see any signs of recognition or guilt among them?”
“I confess, I did not,” Doverton said ruefully as the door opened and Mr. Grant came in.
“Neither did I,” Mrs. Grant admitted.
“Nor I,” Grant said. “Thank you for putting yourself through that, Miss Tillie.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t help us,” she said. “Though, in a way, I confess I’m glad none of them was responsible.”
“Not for your ordeal, perhaps,” Grant said heavily. “But if you ask me, there is something inherently dishonest in Captain Smith.”
“There is,” Doverton agreed. “I’ve set some inquiries in motion in Liverpool and in Sweden. He seems anxious to be off, and we have no reason so far to keep him here. But for now, at least, he’s at the hotel and his men at the tavern.”
“Still rescuing his cargo?” Mrs. Grant asked.
Doverton gave a wry smile. “I wish him joy of that. I suspect a great deal of it is already in the hands—and stomachs—of Blackhaven residents. No, I have the feeling the cargo is an excuse. He’s anxious. I think he’s waiting for something or someone.”
Tea was brought in then, and while she drank, Tillie found herself joining with enthusiasm the speculation about The Phoenix and her captain.
“Perhaps they’re smuggling under cover of respectable cargo,” she suggested.
“The brandy we found is French,” Doverton admitted. “But it’s a legal export since the peace, and if it doesn’t land here, it doesn’t need to pay duty. I doubt he needs to be so shifty about that.”
“But he was down at the beach early yesterday morning,” Grant pointed out. “Recovering everything he could, as you might expect, but he seemed very nervous, almost furtive.”
“That is true,” Doverton allowed. “Perhaps he was looking for personal things.”
“Perhaps he found them, and that is why he is no longer truly anxious about his cargo,” Tillie said.
“You mean he was just searching for a missing, water stained portrait of his wife?” Mrs. Grant said.
“Or a secret message he was carrying between Bonapartist spies,” Tillie said with enthusiasm. “He has been bullied or bribed into betraying his country.”
“By Montoni himself, no doubt,” Doverton said gravely.
Tillie, who at once recognized the name of the villain from The Mysteries of Udolpho, only laughed. Mrs. Grant or Dr. Lampton must have told him about the gift of the book “I knew you would have read it,” she crowed. And then felt suddenly breathless when his eyes laughed back at her.
“Nicholas,” Mrs. Grant said as Tillie finished her cup of tea, “that is, Dr. Lampton, said we were to send you back to the hospital in an hour. I never disobey him, but…are you quite comfortable there?”
“Why, yes, everyone is most kind—especially after I stopped being foolish and spoke to them!”
“And sharing a chamber with Annie Doone?”
“I could not have found anyone better natured. She’s mesmerized by The Mysteries of Udolpho, too.”
“You read it to her?” Mrs. Grant asked, as though surprised.
“Oh, yes.” For some reason, she was aware of Major Doverton’s gaze on her, too. “Why?”
“I hope you will not think me snobbish,” Mrs. Grant said. “But you are clearly a lady of some education and manners. While I like Annie, she is a fisherman’s daughter and an unwed mother. It is possibly not an acquaintance your family would encourage.”
Tillie thought about that. “Perhaps there are advantages to remembering nothing.”
“Perhaps,” Mrs. Grant agreed. “But you may have a father, a brother, or even a husband who thinks otherwise.”
Tillie’s eyes widened in horror. “A husband? Oh, good God, I hope not.”
“Oh, some of us aren’t so bad,” Mr. Grant said in amusement.
Tillie flushed. “Of course, I did not mean…only it never entered my head that I was married.” She gave a slightly nervous laugh. “Maybe my husband put me in the box to punish me for my addiction to trashy novels.”
Mr. and Mrs. Grant looked appalled, though whether at her suspecting such a thing or the mere possibility that it could be true, Tilly could not tell.
“Well, if he did,” Major Doverton said, “he is clearly a villain, and I shall run him through for you.”
“Thank you, you are most obliging.”
Everyone laughed, and the tension seemed to vanish. Tillie, deciding it was time to go, rose to her feet. “I think my hour is up,” she said to the Grants. “Thank you again for your help.”
“Let me ring for the carriage,” Mrs. Grant said at once.
“Oh, no, please, I would rather walk. I long for some fresh air.”
“I don’t think Dr. Lampton would like you walking so far,” Doverton said. “I could walk with you as far as the hotel, where I can hand you into a hired cab. It’s only a short stroll from here.”
She opened her mouth to dissuade him, then closed it again. “Thank you,” she said meekly. “If you are sure I’m not taking up too much of your time.”
“Not in the slightest.”
At the front door, she drew the hood of her cloak over her hair before walking up the path in front of Major Doverton. Outside the garden gate, she waited for him.
“Is it much of a detour to the sea?” she asked.
“We can walk via the harbor if it wouldn’t tire you.”
“I think I would like to.” She glanced at him. “Thank you for coming with me. I wish very much to ask a favor of you.”
He glanced at her, his dark, intriguing eyes unreadable. “Please do. If it’s in my power, I will.”
She took a deep breath. “You seem to be man who knows who and where to ask about people and find information. You are already looking for my family and investigating The Phoenix and so on… I would like to ask you to find out about another man.”
His eyes had grown opaque, “Who? Someone you’ve remembered?”
“Oh, no. I’m sure I’ve never met him in my life. His name is George Trent. He’s a private soldier, and he’s the father of Annie Doone’s baby.”
He blinke
d, and yet he was sure something had lightened in his face. “Is he one of mine?” he asked. “That is, in the 44th? If so, I’ll see he does his duty by her.”
Tillie shook her head. “No, but she met him in Whalen, which I believe is only a few miles from Blackhaven, in company with one of your wounded soldiers. Apparently, they’d been friends in the Peninsula. Annie stopped to talk to your man whom she knew already and ended stepping out with the other. They parted when he was, apparently, sent back to join his own regiment, only she can’t tell me what that regiment was or anything else about him except his name and the fact that he was going to be a solicitor’s clerk once he was free of the army. Don’t think badly of her. She is an affectionate and trusting soul.”
“It’s hardly my place to judge her, but consider, there is probably a reason he told her no more. He could be married already. There are many men who take such advantage of trusting girls and then hide themselves so they can’t be held responsible.”
“I know. So does Annie. That’s one reason she hasn’t told anyone else who the father is, because she can’t bear anyone to think badly of him. She still believes he will come back.”
“I imagine it’s unlikely by this stage. Does she at least have the name of his friend in the 44th?”
“She called him Gunn. I’m afraid I don’t have anything else.”
“I’ll see what I can discover,” Doverton promised.
By then, they were approaching a picturesque little harbor lined with fishing boats. The pale winter sunshine reflected in the glassy sea turning it a soft, silvery grey.
“It doesn’t look the same element that battered us the night before last,” Tillie observed as they paused by the harbor wall. The wind was icy on her face, but not strong.
“No,” Doverton agreed. “But it will turn again at the drop of a hat.”
After a few moments, she felt his gaze on her face. “Are you wondering if I am used to the sea?” she asked.
“It crossed my mind.”
“I don’t know. I don’t feel frightened of it now. But I was when you found me.”
“I would have been, too. In fact, I was!”
“You gave no sign of it.”
“Of course not,” he said, with mockingly blatant shock. “I am an officer and a gentleman.”
“Of course.” She inclined her head in similar style. “Were you in the Peninsula, too?”
“Until 1812.”
“What happened in 1812? To send you home, I mean.”
“The Battle of Salamanca, mainly. I was injured and sent home to—for treatment.” His sudden change from what he’d been going to say was smooth, but not lost on Tillie. Intrigued, she cast him a sharp glance, but he went on at once, “And then they let me shuffle papers at headquarters while the colonel was abroad. Come, it’s too cold for you to stand still. Let’s walk on.”
She took his offered arm, and her heart skipped a beat. She liked to be walking so close to him, to feel the hard muscle of his arm beneath his coat, and the movement of his body almost brushing against her skirts. It seemed novel and rather wonderful. Whatever her life had been, she doubted she had walked like this with a man before, certainly not a man like Major Doverton.
They strolled past some market stalls, where people of all sorts were buying meat and cheese and various household items. Two well-dressed ladies cast them blatantly curious looks. Major Doverton bowed to them, and they walked on past a tavern on the other side of the road.
“What will you do now that the war is over?” she asked him. “Will you keep your position in the 44th, or go on to half-pay?”
“Do you know someone who has already done so?” he asked.
She frowned. “I don’t know. Perhaps I just read about it.” She looked up at him. “You’re not avoiding answering me, are you? Is it none of my business?”
His lips quirked. “Am I being grumpy? Forgive me, my future is not yet decided. I might retire altogether and cultivate roses. Or grow lemon trees somewhere near the Mediterranean, now there is no war to make travelling difficult.”
“I would love to travel,” she said with enthusiasm, although she frowned almost immediately afterward. “At least, I think I would. It does involve crossing the sea.”
“It’s only a few hours to France with a fair wind. You could spend it all on deck.”
“I suppose travelling inside a box is not natural or normal,” she said lightly, although she couldn’t prevent the catch in her voice.
Briefly, he touched her hand on his arm. “The nightmares will go, in time,” he said gently.
“I think you speak from experience,” she said curiously.
“Everyone has nightmares occasionally.”
“What are yours about?” She thought he would say battle, but again he surprised her.
“Failure.”
She blinked. “Failure in what?”
“Keeping men alive, mostly.”
She regarded his strong, handsome profile with new fascination. “The world is not all on your shoulders.”
He glanced at her with a quick, self-deprecating shrug. “But in my dreams, I am obviously all-important. What are your nightmares about? Water?”
“Darkness.” She shivered. “I made Annie leave the lamp lit all night.”
“Did it help?”
Her lips twisted. “When I opened my eyes, yes. What do you do to chase the dreams away?”
He shrugged. “I think of things I can control.”
For him, she mused, that would be a great deal. He was a man of strength and character, and in an important position that must affect many lives. Tillie didn’t even know who she was.
They had reached the main street by then. Although quite gracious for a small-town street, it was not particularly busy.
“It’s a little quiet in winter,” Major Doverton observed. “Since it takes a stout heart to face Cumberland in January. But in a few weeks, there will be more visitors to take the miracle waters.”
She regarded him with some doubt. “Are you joking?”
“That people come just to drink the water? No, they really do. Of course, they don’t all find the miracle they’re looking for, but enough seem to do so that it keeps people coming.”
She frowned. “I can’t imagine a drink of water bringing my memory back, but I could try. Dr. Lampton did not mention it.”
“Lampton is a man of science, not faith. He is also used to the success of his own treatments being attributed to the waters instead. And so Blackhaven’s health reputation thrives.”
“You are a cynic,” she observed, smiling.
“I confess. But I am happy to conduct you to the pump room to take the waters, should you require an escort. Providing Dr. Lampton permits you to go. Other entertainments of the town include the assembly room balls, which have been going on through the winter. That is the assembly building on your left. Also, an art gallery further down High Street, and a small theatre. There is an ice parlor to rival Gunther’s, and I believe the hotel does excellent afternoon tea. And that—apart from the people—is Blackhaven in a nutshell.”
“I would like to hear about the people. Mrs. Grant, for example, although most kind, does not seem to me very like a vicar’s wife.” Her lips twisted. “Though to be sure, I can’t actually remember any others.”
“Well, Grant is quite an unusual vicar, too. In a good way. I’m sure you’ll get to know everyone before too long.”
“Perhaps,” she said doubtfully. “I think it might be difficult when I don’t know who I am, which part of society I belong to. Mrs. Grant thinks I am too respectable for Annie. I suspect Annie would agree with her. But this is all based on the fact that I can read and I speak well. But I could be an actress or a courtesan.”
Doverton blinked, then gazed at her, his expression unreadable. “I doubt it. You’ll remember everything in time.”
They had reached the hotel by then, and two waiting cabs a few yards further down the road. The drivers
were chatting together in the shelter of the building, stamping their feet to keep warm. But as they approached, one man grinned and came immediately toward them, touching his hat.
“Where to, Major Dove?” he asked cheerfully.
“Morning, Colton,” the major replied in unexpectedly friendly spirit. “Take the lady to the hospital, if you please.”
Only then did Tillie realize her predicament. “Oh!” She stepped back. “I should have thought. I have no money to pay.”
“It’s a trivial amount, and you may pay me back when you’re settled,” Doverton said casually. He opened the door as the driver climbed up, and after a moment, she accepted his hand and stepped inside.
“Thank you,” she muttered in embarrassment.
He smiled and closed the door before he moved forward to exchange a few words and some coins with the driver.
He touched his hat to her, and the horses clopped away. She had to squash her foolish sense of panic by thinking of him and everything he’d said. And when she would see him again.
Chapter Five
“Know a man called Gunn?” Dove asked his batman that night as he prepared for dinner in the officers’ mess.
“In the regiment?”
“Yes. Wounded at some point but not invalided out.”
Cully scratched his head. “Maybe. What’s he done?”
“Nothing that I know of. Send him to see me after dinner, would you? He’s not in trouble.”
Dinner that evening was a bit of a trial. His abdomen was still sore from the storm rescue, and he really wanted to lie in bed and sleep instead of making civil conversation with Mrs. Gordon, the colonel’s wife, and his fellow officers.
Worse, Mrs. Gordon was an inveterate gossip, and he knew the questions were coming. He didn’t have long to wait.
“Tell me, Major, who is the mysterious lady I saw you with at the market this morning?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know, ma’am.”
She laughed heartily, drawing everyone else’s attention to the conversation, too. “Oh, come, Major. You needn’t be shy. You bowed to me, so you know exactly which lady I mean.”
“Yes, but seriously, I don’t know who she is. She’s the lady we rescued in the storm. She hurt her head and remembers nothing before the storm.”
The Wicked Waif Page 4
