Rondo Allegro

by Sherwood Smith

  He paused again.

  She still waited with that air of puzzlement. “And as for the newspapers, it is easy to miss announcements without you have the right date.”

  And she still said nothing.

  So he said, “Captain Duncannon, to my knowledge, has not been in the habit of communicating with his family.” He could have said, When we were boys, the only thing I knew about him was that he had one brother, an arrogant blood in the sixth form. And we knew better than to ask questions, these past years. “Given our present situation, and all that is implied in the direction on this letter, I think it best to tender it to you.”

  He pinched his fingers to the bridge of his nose, and Anna’s heart contracted in a way that had nothing to do with the gentle motion of the ship.

  Why was he so short with her, so reluctant to speak? The idea occurred that her situation, her questions, were merely another burden to add to his impossible number.

  She said, “Must I open it now, or was there something else?”

  “Open it at your leisure,” he said, in a lighter voice, clearly relieved to see her take responsibility for it. “There is another matter that cannot wait. Before the battle, the captain made me promise to send you home should anything happen to him.”

  To Sayers, the word ‘home’ could only have meant one thing: the place of his birth, to which he longed to return in order to marry his patient betrothed. And so Captain Duncannon’s wife—that is, the new Lady Northcote—must of course be sent to Barford Magna, Yorkshire, England, where the captain had been born.

  He said, “Captain Neville, who it happens is a particular friend, awaits you now. He has agreed to take you to England. He is carrying the latest dispatches.”

  “England!” she repeated.

  “It is your home,” Sayers said with utter conviction. “Here is a purse. It is his own money, which I know he would want me to surrender to you. It should see you comfortable until you have had a chance to make your arrangements.”

  He handed her a small purse containing crackling bills. “I feel obliged to say, while there is life there is hope, but I still believe he would desire you to go ahead of him. He will receive the best of care, from the most experienced medical men. The admiral promised that for all his wounded officers—his own physician is waiting for the captain now, once the launch reaches land.”

  “Is it not my place to remain with him?”

  The lieutenant pinched his fingers between his brows again, his voice tense. “I have received word that given the many wounded in carrying off the ships, the hospital here at Gib is overcrowded. There is no place, none at all, for a lady. Please. The arrangements have been made, and the best thing you could do is go ahead and see to his affairs as best you can.”

  To him that meant all the specifics of the transfer of an estate, but to her it meant nothing whatsoever. It was going entirely too swiftly. But the way he looked away from her and at his desk reminded her that he already had an impossible number of immediate demands on his notice.

  She said, “If I may be permitted to bide long enough only to see him safely to the hospital.” She spoke the words knowing that there was nothing she could materially do, and further, no one wanted her there. But it seemed the right thing to do. “How will I find out his progress?”

  “You may depend upon me for that,” Sayers said. “It is no more than he has done for all the ship’s people, a task I will take scrupulous care to honor as he did. I shall write to you at this direction.” He indicated the letter in her hands.

  In those few words everything the letter represented, hitherto lying utterly outside her experience, suddenly engulfed her.

  “You will have an opportunity to speak to the physician once the launch reaches the dock, where I am told everything is in waiting,” Sayers finished.

  She could see that the interview was at an end, and rose.

  He stood painfully, reaching his hand out to her. “Madame, my lady, permit me to take this opportunity to thank you, on his behalf, and on behalf of the ship’s people, for all your exertions. I have only to add that in this very minute the launch for transporting him is in preparation, while the water is relatively quiet, the tide flowing in.”

  They shook hands, and she walked out, half in a daze. Once again her life was taking an utterly unexpected turn.

  She pocketed the letter and purse and went up to the deck, where she found a party of big, strong pigtailed seamen carrying the captain’s cot, step by careful step. Perkins had tucked him mummy-tight down into the cot, a sheet over his face to ward the sun.

  Parrette stopped her, and mutely handed her the bonnet that during those long hours of waiting she had made over into something smart. Anna obediently put it on, tied the ribbon under her chin, and then reluctantly pulled on the gloves that Parrette handed her, before being bundled into her traveling cloak, also new-furbished.

  When she was done, the men were still involved with their tackles, so Anna ventured down to the sick-berth to take her leave of the midshipmen. Mr. Bradshaw cried almost tearfully, “Oh, that I had known, I would have written a letter home!”

  Though she still did not believe she would actually travel to England, she could not prevent herself from saying, “Should all come to pass, I will call upon your family myself, and carry your best wishes, shall I?”

  He flushed, his whole countenance changing. “Tell them about the battle, will you, Mrs. Duncannon?” He held out a hand, and she gripped his fever-warm fingers. “And you might also hint that an increase in my mess allowance might not go amiss, as the indent for someone my size is significantly more than it was when I was no bigger than a walnut. Only don’t put it so, if you will, but make it polite, like.”

  She smiled and agreed, but her throat hurt as she took her leave of them all.

  Parrette was waiting for her at the railing as she watched over the shifting of their trunks into the launch.

  Anna and Parrette were helped down last. Anna sat by the cot carrying the captain. She glanced up to take private leave of his ship. Her time aboard it had been short in measure of days, but she had run through all the range of emotions to such a degree that it felt she had lived there for years, whereas Spain was a faint memory, almost a dream, by comparison.

  The journey to the wharf was not long in duration. While the seamen watched the water and boat traffic, Anna slipped the letter from her pocket and, uneasy yet intensely curious, she worked her finger under the seal.

  The handwriting was a rounded fist, decorated with flourishes that made it difficult to read.

  Northcote Manor

  Dearest Henry:

  I can quite understand your not writing after John died, given everything that has Transpir’d, though you might have thought of Mother. But however, I promised [the word promised underscored three times] myself I would not take up my pen just to Quarrel with you, after all this time.

  Emily would have nothing said, or changed, in any way, save the Notice taken that was due to our Position, until she was brought to bed, as she was so very certain she carried a boy, and she found some London man-midwife who assured her All the Signs were There for a Boy. He charged her a thumping ten guineas, too. But it was all for Naught, and poor little baby Amelia made her appearance this fortnight past. Emily scarcely looks at her, so Nurse and I have made her our very own.

  We are all at sixes and sevens here. You can have no notion how Horrid John left everything. I know you would rather be Anywhere but Here, but it is now your Duty. Even if you wish to pass the Title off, our third-cousin Harry’s little boy is only Six Years Old, which would leave us in a very horrid Situation.

  I beg you will not render our lives Hideous in the Extreme by such a measure. But however, it is now your Decision and you may do what you Like. But you must visit the Solicitor, or at the Least [another half-dozen underlinings] write, that we may know our Fates.

  With better hopes, your still loving sister, and I am very sorry you did not
write back about the Handkerchiefs I embroidered for you with mourning edgework, though I know my stitchwork is Not All it ought to be—

  Your loving Sister,

  Harriet

  Anna refolded the letter, more confused than enlightened. The only thing clear was that the captain had a sister, and she felt it was his duty to return home.

  She tucked the letter back into her pocket as Captain Duncannon was brought up to the dock as carefully as possible. She watched anxiously. Had he stirred, or was that an effect of the motion that could not be completely avoided?

  He was still again, but breathing. She listened to that breathing as they were conveyed in the back of a wagon with two other badly wounded men from other ships. Anna was scarcely aware of her surroundings, hearing only a mix of Spanish and English voices.

  Every jolt she felt in her heart, the more because one of the men groaned feverishly. Parrette stayed by her side, a silent presence, as they followed the orderlies into the military hospital, and the captain was carried to a cool, quiet room away from the general wards.

  When the captain was lifted from the cot to the waiting bed, this time she was certain she saw his head move beneath the covering sheet, and one hand flex.

  “He wakes,” she cried. And then lower, “He moved. I am certain of it.”

  “I saw, too,” Parrette said.

  A man in a physician’s scratch wig and black coat had appeared, a tired-looking man with enormous side-whiskers that came all the way around his face under his chin, leaving his cheeks and mouth bare.

  He glanced into the cot, took the captain’s pulse, looked under his eyelids, then shook his head solemnly. “It is only the movement of the cot. He is in a coma. The danger is extreme,” he added, low-voiced. “There must be no voices, no excitement at all.” He turned to Anna. “You are Captain Lord Northcote’s lady, I apprehend?”

  There was that title again! She touched her pocket containing the letter before saying, “I am.”

  “I wish to assure you that he will get the best of care, but what he needs most of all is quiet. Generally in these cases, if the patient survives the initial crisis, there is a strong possibility that he will waken. But I must warn you that the vitreous humors are suffused.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means there is a decided chance that he will wake blind. I warn you of possibilities, to emphasize the severity of the case. We cannot speak of certainties.”

  At her shocked expression he relented enough to add, “I venture to hold out a cautious hope. Even if he does wake blind, there is always a possibility that with time, and perhaps some judicious blood-letting, that the humors will clear, and restore his sight. But he must be made to be quiet, completely quiet, with no excitement, no speech, even, until the crisis is safely past.”

  “How long will that be?” she asked, aware of Parrette behind her, and at the door, a young midshipman restlessly waiting.

  The scratch wig inclined in a bow. “No one can say. It could be an appreciable time. If he does waken in possession of his intellects, he is going to require absolute quiet, and a room devoid of light. You could do the most good by going ahead to prepare his home to receive him.”

  He bowed and turned away to one of the several men waiting for his attention. Anna, left alone, became aware of whispering, and when she turned her head, it was to discover Parrette in close conversation with a stout middle-aged woman wearing a coarse apron over her linsey-woolsey gown, a plain cap on her head.

  Anna nearly stepped away when she recognized the brown stains on that apron as blood. Parrette said, “Mrs. Sperring here says they are over-charged in this place.”

  “It’s severe, your la’ship,” this woman said in a broad accent that Anna found difficult to understand. At least the woman was too tired to speak quickly. “Severe, like. We’ve no proper place for a lady. We’re running out of beds as ’tis.”

  “She tended wounded on one of the other ships,” Parrette said.

  To this Mrs. Sperring added, with a mirthless laugh, “Afore that I was running powder, skipping like a boy.”

  The two women looked expectantly at Anna, who recognized moral certainty. Though she was supposed to be the lady of rank here, it was very clear where authority lay. It was her place to bow to greater need, and withdraw.

  She said slowly, “Is there perhaps another physician? Another hospital? Somewhere I can take him, where there is no crowding?”

  Mrs. Sperring laughed. “Bless you, dearie, this is the best. And the admiral’s own man, you just spoken to. There ain’t any better, not for a month’s travel in any direction.”

  Anna let her breath out. Gibraltar was little more than a rock in the sea, poised between two continents, with war all around. “Lieutenant Sayers spoke of England.”

  Mrs. Sperring’s broad brow cleared. “Yes, your la’ship, the very thing. You can do no better than that. On his waking, he will want to know you are there.”

  “Very well. Thank you,” she said, and finding Perkins hovering beside the door, she went up to him. “Are you being let to stay?”

  “It’s orders,” Perkins said, loud enough for that gallows-faced cove in the scrub wig to hear. “It’s orders, I’m to be right here. I’ll sleep right here on the floor next or nigh him.”

  “Oh, thank you,” she murmured and slid the letter into his hand. “When the captain wakes, pray give this to him. Tell him the seal is broken because Lieutenant Sayers said I must open it.”

  Perkins touched his forehead. “I’ll see to it, Missus Capting, your la’ship, that is. The lieutenant told me the news. You can lay your life I’ll see to him. Good journey to you.”

  “Thank you, and to you.”

  “This way,” Parrette said. “They await us.”

  o0o

  Two hours later, as the tide turned, she and Parrette stood together on the tiny deck of the Mermaid.

  They watched until the harbor receded to an unevenly curved line below the towering Rock, and the ships dwindled to dots with gently swaying masts.

  The captain of the Mermaid waited until the harbor had dropped below the horizon before sending his single middie to his guest. The boy touched his hat respectfully. “Captain Neville’s duty, ma’am, and should you like to join him for dinner, the watch is about to change.”

  Anna knew what that meant: she mustn’t keep him waiting. Nothing short of the worst hurricane, or the heat of battle, kept the navy from its regular round of whistles and bells, and a captain’s invitation was tantamount to stringent command.

  She paced beside the midshipman, a thin, earnest-faced boy, and descended the short distance to what was a fine little cabin, divided into two chambers.

  Captain Neville, wearing his formal blue coat, hovered outside the carved doors of his cabin. He was very handsome in the English style, fair-haired, blue-eyed, with a ready smile. “Welcome aboard, Lady Northcote,” he said. “Pray accept my wife’s best wishes and earnest excuses. She is unwell, and desires me to assure you that only illness prevents her from joining us. But if you wish to wait upon her following the meal, you would be most welcome.”

  Anna said what was proper as a white-gloved steward quietly served a meal. Charles Neville guided the conversation along unexceptionable topics. In this way they soon arrived at music.

  Finding his guest very well informed on a subject he relished, Captain Neville kept them at it until the cover was removed. Remembering the dinner aboard Nelson’s flagship, Anna scrupulously withdrew, freeing Neville to return to the deck.

  Anna perforce then had to call upon Lady Lydia, lying in the sleeping cabin adjacent. One look at her made it clear that being unwell was no pretext.

  Lady Lydia, so lively and pretty aboard the flagship, was almost unrecognizable, her hair tangled, her complexion greenish with nausea. “You are here at last,” she said fretfully. “On no account, I told Charles, must the smells of food be permitted inside here. Oh, I am so very ill, this motion w
ill be mortal before I can ever get home.” Her lips worked, her face paled as she clapped her hand to her mouth.

  Anna said hastily, “I shall withdraw now, shall I? I will visit you on the morrow. Perhaps you will feel better.” She closed the cabin door on the poor young wife.

  Parrette was waiting. She took Anna down to the tiny canvas-walled space that belonged to the lieutenant, now made over to the guests. There were two hammocks, one low, and one high, as there was nowhere else for them in the small ship.

  Mindful of how sound carried, she repeated the gist of the letter to Parrette, speaking in Neapolitan.

  Parrette, watching her with narrowed eyes, waited until she was through and then observed, “You are now Lady Northcote, and you must now go to his home.”

  “So everyone seems to expect of me. I will do what’s right, but he never told me of this home, or these people, and I expect it is the same for them. How am I to thrust myself upon people who I expect have no idea I even exist?”

  “You will do it because it is your duty.” Parrette shrugged. “Speaking of everything that is proper, Lady Lydia’s Mrs. Timothy gave me the cast aside magazines, and I shall address your clothing. If they waited upon the birth of a possible heir, then the death is not recent. You will not be required to wear black. Toutefois! You will be in proper half-mourning when you step off this ship in London Harbor, or wherever they choose to land us. I am going to need to visit warehouses as soon as may be. You’ve only the two gowns in correct shades.”

  Anna thanked her, but with a grave, almost absent air. Parrette’s brows snapped together. “You have misgivings?”

  “Not about the clothes,” Anna said hastily. “Thanks to you. It is this place we go to. About that I have misgivings.”

  “Where else should we go?” Parrette asked, and seeing Anna’s uncertainty, pushed on relentlessly. “It would be madness to return to Spain. Or Naples, with war there, too. Back to France? Do you think, even if Company Dupree were to return to Paris, would you have your place back? Is that what you truly want?”