An Unwilling Alliance

by Lynn Bryant

  “I’ll be too busy minding my own steps to notice,” the captain said, taking her hand. As they took their places in the set, he raised her gloved hand to his lips, his eyes on hers. Roseen blushed. It was a very direct and very public statement of his interest, and under different circumstances it would have annoyed her but this evening she felt nothing but gratitude. He was making a difficult evening unexpectedly bearable for her.

  He had exaggerated his lack of skill; he was a competent dancer, not especially graceful but assured enough to maintain a conversation through the set. At the same time he was not at all showy and seemed to have more interest in Roseen than the dance itself which she found decidedly pleasant. There was something elusive about Captain Hugh Kelly; he was by no means a devoted suitor and seemed more than capable of disappearing for days at a time without a word, but when he was with her, he showed a level of attentiveness which Roseen could not help but enjoy.

  It was especially welcome this evening. The ball, which she had dreaded, became bearable and even enjoyable with him by her side. He asked endless questions about those present and she found herself giving him a potted history of the various Castletown notables and their families. He had a lively sense of the ridiculous and kept her in a ripple of laughter about the costumes and eccentricities of their fellow guests. By midnight, after supper and champagne, Roseen was well aware that Castletown would be gossiping freely about her new admirer but she had drunk several glasses over cold chicken and ham and was feeling reckless enough to allow him to lead her up onto the battlements to look out over the bay. A light shone from the fort on St Michael’s Isle and there were several other flickering lanterns along the shore but otherwise the only light up here was from a half moon, shining clear in a velvet sky.

  The cold air sobered her a little. “Captain, we should go in. People are going to talk.”

  “People always talk, lass. I’m not sure I’m that interested in what they have to say. Are you cold?”

  “A little,” Roseen admitted, and then froze in sudden shock at the feeling of warm hands on her bare shoulders. He drew her back against him and she was aware of the hard length of his body against hers, his arms wrapped around her.

  “Relax,” he said on a breath of laughter against her ear. “I’m just keeping you warm.”

  “Captain…” Roseen wished she had not drunk so much champagne. It was clouding her thinking and instead of pulling away and giving him the slap he richly deserved, all she could think about was how good it felt to be held against him, warm in the darkness.

  “Relax,” he whispered again, and she felt his hands slide down her bare arms very slowly and deliberately. One moved to her waist, massaging her gently through the thin muslin and suddenly her whole body was alive and tingling in his arms. She heard herself make a little sound and knew that he had heard it too.

  “You feel so good,” he whispered and Roseen leaned back against him.

  “I’ve drunk too much. I shouldn’t be here.”

  She heard him laugh and thought, slightly confusedly, that she liked the sound of his laugh. “You’re right, of course. I’ll take you inside. They’ll be calling for carriages soon. But before we do…may I?”

  Roseen turned into his arms, suddenly reckless. “I’m surprised you bothered to ask, Captain,” she said softly and heard the laugh again.

  “I am far better mannered than you’d expect, Roseen. Don’t look so worried. It’s a kiss, not a promise. When I want those, I’ll ask you.”

  His mouth covered hers and Roseen clung to him. Her head was spinning from the champagne but it was more than that. Accustomed to Edward Barton’s occasionally clumsy embraces, she was slightly shocked at Hugh Kelly’s lips, tasting of wine, taking possession of hers with a confidence that left her breathless and unexpectedly wanting something more.

  He seemed to sense it. She heard his voice against her ear. “I would like to, lass, but this isn’t the time or the place and you don’t really know me yet. But I do want to know you better.”

  “Captain.” Roseen tried to pull herself together. “I have not said…”

  “Neither have I, Roseen. I’ll admit that I’m generally a man in a hurry but we’ve some time. Let’s get you back to your aunt, shall we? I know it was too soon for this, it’s just you were so damned lovely in that gown.”

  Roseen did not look at him. Her cheeks were scarlet and she felt slightly breathless. After a moment Hugh reached out and carefully readjusted her shawl about her shoulders then placed a hand under her chin and tilted her face up to his. He bent and kissed her again very gently.

  “Don’t look so worried, lass. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

  She was unexpectedly moved by his concern. “Oh Captain, I didn’t think you were. I’m just so confused.”

  “Don’t be. This isn’t that difficult. I shouldn’t have rushed it, I’m an idiot, I knew you weren’t ready. Don’t think of it again. I shall come to dinner tomorrow - since I’m not getting fed at home for a few days - and I shall go back to calling you Miss Crellin and being very civil, I promise you.”

  Roseen laughed. “Captain, you’re always civil even when you’re behaving badly.”

  “I’m glad to hear it, the navy did a good job of beating the manners into me. That’s better, you’re smiling again. Come on, let’s go in before I do something to ruin it.”

  It was the beginning, for Roseen, of a period of considerable confusion. Captain Hugh Kelly’s courtship had an originality about it which left her by turns laughing, bewildered and downright exasperated. For the three days following the ball he spent most of the day at her father’s house and was wholly attentive. He walked with her on the hillside, rode into Castletown and flirted with her through the candlelight in the evenings. When he chose to be charming he was difficult to resist.

  On the fourth day he sent a civil message to her father excusing himself from dinner on the grounds of work to be done and Roseen neither saw him nor heard from him for over a week. She had told herself that she was by no means certain that she was willing to consider a marriage with Captain Kelly when her affections were still very firmly engaged by Lieutenant Barton, but she had expected a continuation of his attentions and his silence infuriated her.

  When he returned again it was to beg her company on an expedition down to Derbyhaven and St Michael’s Isle. Roseen had been determined to give a haughty refusal, but it was a fine clear day after a week of summer drizzle and Bridget needed a run out. Her father smiled benignly on the couple as they set off and Captain Kelly did not appear to notice her coolness. He began to tell her, with obvious enthusiasm, of the work he had been supervising on the gatehouse at Ballabrendon, where he intended to install the elderly couple who had kept house for old Mr Cretney, and Roseen turned a surprised face to his.

  “Ned Killip and his wife? Really?”

  “I forgot you’d know them. Yes, they’ve agreed to stay on and help out when needed.” Hugh grinned. “To be honest neither of them can manage much, but I’m not willing to let them go. What Ned Killip doesn’t know about those acres isn’t worth knowing, he’ll be a godsend to Isaac while he’s settling in. And that gatehouse was an eyesore. I need a good glazier though, the one in Castletown has let me down three times and I’m bored with it. I’ll ask your father.”

  “We use Mr Corlett from Douglas,” Roseen said, her pique forgotten. “Old Carrick is getting past it now, his eyesight is going, and his son is a lazy oaf who prefers drinking and gambling to doing a day’s work; he’s going to ruin a perfectly good business.”

  “He’s certainly lost mine. Thank you, Miss Crellin, I’ll let Isaac know to send a lad up to Douglas with a message. Once the windows are finished the women can give it a good clean and it will be ready for them to move in. I’ve told them to choose what they want from the furniture I’m getting rid of, it’s stored in the big barn at the moment.”

  “Have your new furnishings arrived then?”

 
“Most of them, the weather’s been good, the last of the curtains and drapes arrived yesterday. It looks good, I must say. Beginning to feel like my home now. As a matter of fact I was going to ask your aunt and your father if you’d all dine with me on Tuesday. You won’t recognise the dining parlour; it’s been painted and it shines. I’ve kept the oak furniture, it’s lovely now that Voirry has worked her magic. She has a gift, that woman. She came as part of the deal with Isaac but I’m beginning to think I’ve found a gem, she’s a born housewife and she’s done wonders with the place.”

  Roseen pulled a face. “I’m not,” she said. “My aunt has struggled to teach me what I need but I have to be fair and say that it’s been a painful experience for her. I just cannot seem to be interested.”

  “You might one day, when the house is your own. And if not, it hardly matters. Whoever you marry is likely to be able to afford a good housekeeper.”

  Roseen shot him a look but his face was straight and she did not think he was trying to flirt with her. “While I sit in the parlour with a piece of fine embroidery? That does not sound like me, Captain.”

  To her surprise he laughed aloud. “It doesn’t,” he admitted. “But from the point of view of the man you marry, Miss Crellin, you have a lot more about you than a drawing room ornament. And I am going to stop there before I say something to annoy you, I’m very good at that.”

  Roseen smiled broadly. “Am I that obvious?” she asked.

  “Every time,” Hugh said solemnly. “It is like blowing out a lamp when I say the wrong thing. You’ve the most expressive face I’ve ever come across.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “Don’t be, lass, I like it. It makes it easier to get it right as well. Mind that boggy patch, she’ll splatter your gown with mud. It’s drier this side.”

  They rode along the coast road, busy with traffic, pack horses and carts transporting goods from the cargo ship which had anchored that morning. Several of the men recognised Roseen and touched their hats in greeting to her and Mr Robertshaw the chandler paused in his work outside his small workshop to call good morning. Roseen reined in.

  “How is Mrs Robertshaw this week?”

  “Doing well, miss, and the wee fella growing a foot a day.”

  “I’m glad. Is she well enough for a visitor, I’d like to call in and meet him one afternoon.”

  “Gladly, miss, she’ll be pleased to show him off.” Robertshaw was eyeing Hugh with some curiosity and Roseen glanced at him. “Captain Kelly, this is Mr Robertshaw who is the best chandler on the island, he handles all my father’s ships.”

  “Then he’s definitely a man I’m pleased to know,” Hugh said. “I’ve a suspicion I’ll be in need of your services at some point.”

  “Gladly, sir.”

  They rode on, keeping the sea on their left, a brisk breeze lifting the manes from their horses’ necks and tugging at Roseen’s hat. She saw Hugh’s grey eyes resting on it and then he raised his brows.

  “I hope that’s pinned on properly, ma’am. Hats are expensive.”

  Roseen gave a splutter of laughter. “They are. I don’t plan on losing this one. The wind up on South Barrule was more than I’d expected.”

  “Did you get into trouble?”

  She nodded. “My aunt was so cross. I was given a very great scolding and struggled to keep my countenance through it because it is, after all, just a hat. I have others and why does it matter if they are new or old as long as they keep the sun off your face.”

  She wondered if she had said the wrong thing suddenly, that he might think her careless or ungrateful of the money spent on her. But he was laughing.

  “So true,” he said. “You’re a constant joy, Roseen, you don’t see things the way other women do.”

  “I wish I did,” Roseen said.

  He studied her. “Why on earth would you say that?”

  “Because it’s true, Captain. It would be so much easier if I were like the other girls. I’m just not. It’s as if they were born knowing what to say and do and how to behave and I’m always guessing. Always a step behind them. I’m so…awkward.”

  Roseen had not meant to say as much and was suddenly very embarrassed at her own candour. She searched her brain frantically for some light-hearted comment that might turn the conversation and Hugh shifted his mount closer to hers, reached out and took her gloved hand from the reins, raising it to his lips.

  “You have no idea how much I like the fact that you don’t spend your time trying to pretend to be something you’re not. Don’t wish yourself a vapid ninny, Roseen, character is worth a lot more than a selection of meaningless social accomplishments. And I won’t be the only man to think so.”

  He released her and moved away. Roseen did not reply as she could think of nothing to say. Her face was pink but she did not feel the usual irritation at his compliments. There had been sincerity in his words and for once she had no desire to shout at him to stop.

  They rode over the narrow causeway that linked St Michael’s Isle to the mainland and paused, looking out over the gunmetal blue grey waves, capped with white in the breeze. His hair, generally so neat, lifted in the wind and a strand of it blew free. He tucked it behind his ear in an irritated gesture which made Roseen smile.

  St Michael's Isle was the northern most point of the Langness Peninsula. Roseen remembered her father telling her that it used to be detached at high tide, a true island, but the causeway had been built in the middle of the previous century to link it permanently. It was formed of rocky slate, its acidic soil limiting the plants that could grow there, and it was inhabited now mainly by sea birds of all kinds, wheeling overhead with their hoarse cries and occasionally swooping down into the choppy sea which crashed onto the rocky shores of the island. It was a place of peace and great beauty but it was not quiet.

  Roseen had grown up loving the sound of the sea and had always longed to live close enough to it to hear it through her open bedroom window at night. They dismounted and Hugh led both horses to the old chapel and tethered them to a rusty iron gate which had been put up to prevent people going into the chapel which was disused, roofless and probably dangerous. He turned back to Roseen and held out his hand and she smiled and took it. She was becoming accustomed to Captain Kelly’s assumption that she could not make her own way across rough ground, or indeed, up a flight of stairs, without his assistance. Privately, Roseen suspected his chivalry was an excuse to hold her hand, but she had no intention of asking him. He was likely to tell her the truth. He was also likely to stop doing it if he thought it annoyed her, and Roseen realised with some surprise that she did not want him to.

  There were two buildings on the island. The tiny ruined chapel dated back to Celtic and Norse times and had long been abandoned, home now only to nesting birds and rabbits. The second was a circular fort, built originally under Henry VIII as part of a major coastal defensive system. It had a wall walk at the top and supported eight cannons. It had fallen into disuse for many years but was re-fortified in 1640 by James, 7th Earl of Derby, a strong royalist, against the ships of Oliver Cromwell during the English Civil War.

  The fort was renamed Derby Fort and the Earl's initials along with a date of 1645 could still be seen engraved above the fort door. Hugh paused to look at them and Roseen came to stand beside him.

  “It’s small but it looks very solid,” she said.

  “Aye, it is. Not that it was likely to be stormed by land, but with the other battery on the far side at Ronaldsway, I wouldn’t enjoy sailing into Derby Haven Bay under fire from two sides.”

  “That one is more recent, isn’t it?”

  Hugh nodded, pointing across the bay to the small battery. “At the end of the seventeenth century, I believe. I don’t know what condition that one’s in, not really looked closely, but I’ll bet they’ve done some work on it recently. They use this one as a lighthouse as well, don’t they?”

  Roseen nodded. “Yes, for the herring fleet. When you’re out on the
boats you can see it for miles, it’s an excellent location…”

  She broke off realising what she had just said. Hugh did not respond immediately. He was looking out to sea at a small fleet of boats outlined against the bright sky in the distance and Roseen wondered if he had heard her and sought frantically for a change of subject. After a moment he looked round and smiled.

  “Don’t look so horrified, Miss Crellin, you already told me, don’t you remember? When we were touring the house.”

  “I’d forgotten,” Roseen admitted. “I don’t do it now. My father was worried it might cause people to think ill of me.”

  “I think it was fine when you were a lass and your brother was with you. But your father is probably right that you had to stop. People will make something of nothing with a girl’s good name.”

  “Does it bother you?” Roseen asked, and then could have bitten her tongue. The question implied a far closer relationship than she was willing to admit at this stage. At the same time, she really wanted to know the answer.”

  “No, I can’t see any harm in it,” Hugh said simply. “Although if you were my daughter and looking to find a good husband I’d probably feel it was my duty to ensure that the busybodies didn’t find an excuse to gossip. Luckily they’re not here, so it’s none of their business.”

  A voice startled both of them, a hail from the ramparts of the fort. A figure in a red coat was visible, musket in hands, looking down at them.

  “Who goes there, sir?” he called.

  “Captain Hugh Kelly of the Iris. Jesus, fella, you frightened the wits out of me, I’d no idea the place was occupied.”

  The sergeant of fencibles grinned in a manner that suggested he was well aware of the effect of his unexpected shout. “Sorry, sir. Just half a dozen of us on guard duty. They’re keeping it manned now as a lookout. I wondered if you wanted to bring the lady in for a look around, since you’re here?”

  Hugh looked at Roseen. “Would you like to, Miss Crellin?”

  “Yes, thank you. I’ve been here so often, but never inside.”