Beauvallet

by Georgette Heyer

  The truth was that Sir Nicholas would swoop lightning-swift into some hare-brained emprise and be off again victorious while you stood agape at his hardihood.

  Thus with his sweeping off of Dona Dominica, before she had time to fetch her breath. And all with no more than a careless snap of the fingers, as it were. Oh, a hardy fellow, God wot!

  Dominica thought of all this as she stood looking down at him now, and since Beauvallet paid no heed to her, nor ever looked up towards the deck where she stood she presently gave vent to a scornful little laugh, and remarked to the chasing clouds: ‘A merchant, counting stolen goods!’

  Beauvallet looked quickly up. The sun was on his uncovered head, and in his blue eyes; he put up a hand to shade them. ‘My Lady Disdain! Give you a thousand good-morrows!’

  ‘The morrow will not be good while I am upon such a ship as this,’ she said provocatively.

  ‘Now what's amiss?’ demanded Sir Nicholas, and sprang down from the cask. ‘What ails the ship?’

  He was halfway up the companion, which was maybe what she wanted, but she would not have him know that. ‘Pray you, stay below amongst your gains, señor.’

  He was beside her on the deck now, swung a leg over the rail, and sat there like some careless boy. ‘What's amiss?’ he repeated. ‘More dust in the alleyway?’

  She gave the smallest of sniffs. ‘There is this amiss, señor, that this is a pirate vessel, and you are mine enemy!’

  ‘That in your teeth, my lass!’ he said gaily. ‘I am no enemy of yours.’

  She tried to look witheringly upon him, but it seemed to have no effect. ‘You are the declared enemy of all Spaniards, señor, and well I know it.’

  ‘But I have it in mind, sweetheart, to make an Englishwoman of you,’ said Beauvallet frankly.

  She was fairly taken aback. She gasped, flushed, and clenched her little hands.

  ‘Now where's that dagger?’ said Beauvallet, watching her in some amusement.

  She flounced round upon her heel, and swept away to the poop. She was outraged and speechless, but she could still wonder whether he would follow. She need have been in no doubt. He let her gain the poop, out of sight of his men, and came up with her there. He set his hands on her shoulders, and twisted her round to face him. The teasing light went out of his eyes, and his voice was softened. ‘Lady, you called me a mocker, but for once I do not jest. Here my solemn promise! I will make you an Englishwoman before a year is gone by. And so seal my bond.’ He bent his handsome head quickly, and kissed her lips before she could stop him.

  She cried out indignantly, and her hands flew to avenge the insult. But he had her measure, and was ready for the swift reprisal. She found her hands caught and imprisoned, and his face close above hers, smiling down into her angry eyes. ‘Will you rate me for a knave, or pity me for a poor mad fellow?’ said Sir Nicholas, teasing again.

  ‘I hate you!’ she said, and spoke with some passion. ‘I despise you, and I hate you!’

  He let her go. ‘Hate me? But why?’

  She brushed her hand across her lips, as though she would brush his kiss away. ‘How dared you – !’ she choked. ‘Hold me – kiss me! Oh, base! It's to insult me!’ She fled towards the companion leading down to the staterooms.

  He was before her, barring the way. ‘Hold, child! Here's some tangle. I would wed you. Did I not say it?’

  She stamped, tried to push past him, and failed. ‘You will never wed me!’ she defied him. ‘You are ungenerous, base! You hold me prisoner, and do as you will with me!’

  He had her fast indeed, with his hands gripping her arms above the elbows. He shook her slightly. ‘Nay nay, there's no talk of prisoners or of gaolers, Dominica, but only of a man and a maid. What harm have I done you?’

  ‘You forced me! You dared to kiss me, and held me powerless!’

  ‘I cry pardon. But you may stab me with mine own dagger, sweeting. See, it is ready to your hand. A swift, sure revenge! No? What will you have me do then?’ His hands slid down her arms to her wrists; he bent, and kissed her fingers. ‘There! let it be forgot – until I kiss you again.’ That was said with a quick whimsical glance, daringly irrepressible.

  ‘That will be never, señor.’

  ‘And so she flings down her gauntlet. I pick it up, my lady, and will give you a Spanish proverb for answer: Vivir para ver!’

  ‘You will scarcely wed me by force,’ she retorted. ‘Even you!’

  He considered the point. ‘True, child, that were too easy a course.’

  ‘I warrant you would not find it so!’

  ‘Marry, is it yet another challenge?’ he inquired.

  She drew back a pace. ‘You would not!’

  ‘Nay, have I not said I will not? Be at ease, ye shall have a royal wooing.’

  ‘And where will you woo me?’ she asked scornfully. ‘My home is in the very heart of Spain, I’d have you know.’

  ‘Be sure I shall follow you there,’ he promised, and laughed to see her face of incredulous wonder.

  ‘Braggart! Oh, idle boaster! How should you dare?’

  ‘Look for me in Spain before a year is out,’ he answered. ‘My hand upon it.’

  ‘There is a Holy Inquisition in Spain, señor,’ she reminded him.

  ‘There is, señora,’ he said rather grimly, and produced from out his doublet a book bound in leather. ‘And it is like to have you in its clutches if you keep such dangerous stuff as this about you, my lass,’ he said.

  She turned pale, and clasped her hands nervously at her bosom. ‘Where found you that?’ The breath caught in her throat.

  ‘In your cabin aboard the Santa Maria, child. If that is the mind you are in the sooner I have you safe out of Spain the better for you.’ He gave the book into her hands. ‘Hide it close, or sail with me to England.’

  ‘Do not tell my father!’ she said urgently.

  ‘Why, can you not trust me? Oh, unkind!’

  ‘I suppose it is no affair of yours, señor,’ she said, recovering her dignity. ‘I thank you for my book. Now let me pass.’

  ‘I have a name, child. I believe I made you free of it.’

  She swept a curtsey. ‘Oh, I thank you – Sir Nicholas Beauvallet!’ she mocked, and fled past him down the companion.

  Four

  Dona Dominica thought it imperative that Beauvallet's impudence should be suitably punished, and took it upon herself to perform this pious office. Master Dangerfield was a tool ready to her hand; she sought him out, cast a thrall about that susceptible lad, and flirted with him, somewhat to his embarrassment. She brought her long eyelashes into play, the minx, was all honey to him, and flattered the vanity of the youthful male. She used a distant courtesy towards Beauval let, listened when he spoke to her, folded meek hands in her lap, and turned back to Master Dangerfield at the first chance. Beauvallet had stately curtseys and cool impersonalities from her; she let it be clearly seen that Dangerfield could have if he chose a hand to kiss, her smiles, and her chatter. Master Dangerfield was duly grateful, but showed a lamentable tendency to set her high upon a pedestal. At another time this might have pleased her, but she had now no mind to play the goddess. She was at pains to show Master Dangerfield that he might dare to venture a little farther.

  But all this strategy failed of its object. Dona Dominica, out of the tail of her eye, saw with indignation the frank amusement of Sir Nicholas. Beauvallet stood back and watched the play with a laughing, an appreciative eye. The lady redoubled her efforts.

  She was forced to admit Dangerfield dull sport, and chid herself for hankering after the livelier company of his General. With him one met the unexpected; there was a spice of risk to savour the game, an element of adventure to whet the appetite. She would come up with Dangerfield on the deck, stand at his side and ask him questions innumerable upon the sailing of a ship, and appear to listen rapt to his conscientious answers. But all the time she had a quick ear and a vigilant eye for Sir Nicholas, and when she heard his ringing voice, or saw
him come with his quick light step across the deck she would feel her pulses beat the faster, and dread a rising blush. Nor could she ever withstand the force in him that compelled her to meet his look. She might fight against it, but soon or late she must steal a glance towards him, and find his eyes, brimful of laughter, upon her, his hands lightly laid on his hips, his feet firmly planted and wide apart, mockery in his every line.

  Since pride forbade her to give him her company she found a certain solace in talking of him to his lieutenant. Master Dangerfield was willing enough, but he was shocked to hear what an ill opinion she had of the hero. He could allow that Sir Nicholas had maybe too boisterous and reckless a way to suit a lady's taste, but when Dominica poured more scorn upon Beauvallet the boy was moved to protest. It was likely that she wanted this.

  ‘I marvel that you breed such ruffling bullies in England, señor,’ she said, nose in air.

  ‘A bully?’ Dangerfield echoed. ‘Sir Nicholas? Why, I believe you must not say so aboard this ship, señora.’

  ‘Oh, I am not afraid!’ Dominica declared.

  ‘You have little need to be, señora. But you speak to Sir Nicholas’ lieutenant. Maybe we who serve under him know him better.’

  At that she opened her eyes very wide. ‘What, are you all besotted then? Do you like the man so well?’

  He smiled down at her. ‘Most men like him, señora. He is very much – a man, you see.’

  ‘Very much a braggart,’ she corrected, curling her lip.

  ‘No, señora, indeed. I allow he has the manner. But I have never known him promise what he has not performed. If you knew him better –’

  ‘Oh, spare me, señor! Wish me no better knowledge of your bully.’

  ‘Maybe he is too swift for you. He goes too straight towards his goal for a lady's taste, and uses no subtleties.’

  She pounced on that, and put the question that had long hovered on her tongue. ‘I take it your English ladies think as I think, señor?’

  ‘Nay, I believe they like him very well,’ Dangerfield replied, smiling a little. ‘Too well for his desires.’

  Dominica saw the smile. ‘I make no doubt he is a great trifler.’

  Dangerfield shook his head. ‘Nay, he is merry in his dealings, but I believe he will stay for no woman.’

  Dominica spent a moment pondering that. Dangerfield plodded on painstakingly. ‘I would not have you think though that he holds women in poor esteem, señora. Indeed, I think he is gentle with your sex.’

  ‘Gentle!’ the lady ejaculated. ‘I marvel you can say so! A rough fellow I have found him! A boisterous, rough fellow!’

  ‘You have naught to fear from him, señora,’ Dangerfield said seriously. ‘On my honour, he would not offer hurt to one weaker than himself.’

  Dominica was affronted. ‘I fear him? Señor, know that I do not fear him or anyone!’ she announced fiercely.

  ‘Brave lass!’ applauded a voice behind her. Dominica jumped, and turned to see Beauvallet lounging against the bulwarks. He held out his hand invitingly. ‘Then since you have no fear of him, come and talk with the boisterous, rough fellow.’

  Master Dangerfield beat a discreet retreat, and basely left the lady alone. She tapped a slender foot on the deck. ‘I do not wish to talk with you, señor.’

  ‘I am not a señor, child.’

  ‘True, Sir Nicholas.’

  ‘Come!’ he insisted, and his eyes were bright and searching.

  ‘Not at your bidding, Sir Nicholas,’ said Dominica haughtily.

  ‘At my most humble prayer!’ But his look belied the words.

  ‘I thank you, I am very well where I am,’ Dominica said, and turned her shoulder.

  ‘The mountain would not. Well, there was a sequel.’ He was at her side in two steps, and instinctively she drew back in some kind of enjoyable alarm. He frowned quickly at that, and set his hands on her shoulders. ‘Why do you shrink? Do you think I would offer you hurt indeed?’

  ‘No – that is, I do not know at all, señor, and nor do I care!’

  ‘Brave words, but still you shrank. What, do you know so little of me even now? You shall be better acquainted with me, I promise you.’

  ‘You are hurting me! Let me go!’

  He held her slightly away from him, and seemed to puzzle over her. ‘How do I hurt you? By holding you thus?’

  ‘Your fingers grip me well-nigh to the bone,’ said Dominica crossly.

  He smiled. ‘I am not gripping you at all, sweetheart, and well you know it.’

  ‘Let me go!’

  ‘But if I do you will run away,’ he pointed out.

  ‘I wonder that you desire to talk to one who – who hates you!’

  ‘Not I, child. But you do not hate me.’

  ‘I do! I do!’

  ‘God's Death, then, why do you play poor Diccon on your line to tease me?’

  That was too much for the lady. She hit him, full across his smiling mouth.

  It was no sooner done that she knew a frightened leap of the heart, an instant regret, for he swooped quickly, caught her hands fast in his, and locked them behind her back. She looked up, in part afraid, in part defiant, and saw him laughing still.

  ‘Now what do you think you deserve of me?’ Beauvallet asked.

  She had recourse to her strongest weapon, and burst into tears. She was set free on the instant.

  ‘Sweetheart, sweetheart!’ Beauvallet said remorsefully. ‘Here's no matter for tears! What, am I so grim an ogre? I did but tease you, child. Look up! Nay, but smile! See, I will kiss the very hem of your gown! Only do not weep!’ He was on his knee before her; she looked down through her tears at his bent head, more shaken still, and heard footsteps coming up the companion leading from the waist of the ship. She touched Beauvallet's crisp hair fleetingly. ‘Oh, do not! One comes – get up, get up!’

  He sprang up as his Master appeared at the head of the companion, and stepped quickly forward to shield Dominica from this worthy's notice.

  It was easily possible now for her to escape below decks. Sir Nicholas’ attention was held by his Master; the way lay open to her. Dona Dominica walked to the bulwarks, and carefully dried her eyes, and stood looking out to sea.

  In a minute or two the Master's retreating steps sounded, and a lighter footfall, nearer at hand. Beauvallet's fingers covered hers as they lay on the rail. ‘Forgive the rough, boisterous fellow!’ he begged.

  The tone won her; a dimple peeped, and was gone. ‘You use me monstrously,’ complained Dominica.

  ‘But you do not hate me?’

  She left that unanswered. ‘I cannot find it in me to envy the lady you take to wife,’ she said.

  ‘Nay, how should you?’

  She looked sharply up at that, blushed, and turned her face away. ‘I do not know how the English ladies can bear with you, señor.’

  He looked merrily down at her. ‘Why, I have not called upon them to bear with me, señora.’

  She faced him suddenly. ‘You will scarce have me believe you have not trifled often and often!’ she said hotly. ‘No doubt ye deem women of small account!’

  ‘I do not deem you of small account, child.’

  She smiled disdainfully. ‘You are mightily apt. Do you use this manner with the English ladies, pray?’

  ‘Nay, sweetheart, this is the manner I use,’ Sir Nicholas answered, and promptly kissed her.

  Dominica choked, pushed him violently away, and fled down the companion to her cabin. She found her woman there, and was at once conscious of a heightened colour, and ruffled hair. Maria, noting these portents and the storm in her mistress’ eyes, set her arms akimbo and looked fiercely. ‘That bully!’ she said darkly. ‘He has insulted you, señorita? He dared to lay his hands on you?’

  Dominica was biting her handkerchief; her eyes looked this way and that, and at the end she laughed uneasily. ‘He kissed me,’ she said.

  ‘I will tear the eyes from his head!’ vowed Maria, and made for the door.


  ‘Silly wench! Fond fool! Stay still!’ Dominica commanded.

  ‘You shall not again stir forth without me to be your duenna, señorita,’ promised Maria.

  Dominica stamped her foot. ‘Oh, blind! I wanted him to kiss me!’

  Maria's jaw dropped. ‘Señorita!’

  Dominica gave a tiny laugh. ‘He swears he will come into Spain to seek me. If he but dared!’

  ‘Not even an Englishman would be fool enough, señorita.’

  ‘Alack, no!’ Dominica sighed. ‘But if he did – oh, I become infected with his madness!’ She lifted the tiny mirror that hung at her girdle, and frowned at her own reflection. A pat here and a twist there, and she had her curls demure again under the net. She let fall the mirror, blushed to see Maria still wondering at her, and was off to visit her father.