Expectations: The Transformation of Miss Anne de Bourgh (Pride and Prejudice Continued), Volume 1

by Melinda Wellesley

Chapter Twenty-One

  Even on the slowest of days, the bustling metropolis of Naples could never be described as tranquil, but on that morning the surge of humanity neared chaos. A throng of foreign nationals streamed out of the city overland by carriage and cart, while others descended on the harbor in search of escape from the coming storm.

  In the tumult on the quay, no one noticed the simply-dressed Englishman pacing before the merchant ship Lady Helen. Of a middling age, possessing the precision of an experienced valet, Richard Harrison consulted his fob watch and surveyed the crowd, then looked back at the ship’s crew finishing their preparations. The master should have been on board an hour ago. He glanced at his watch again. How unlike him to be so tardy. Something must be amiss.

  Harrison stepped out of the way of a cart hauling baggage down to another ship. He thanked Providence that the master had him arrange passage when they arrived in town yesterday morning. Today people were lucky to find sleeping accommodations in the cargo holds. Every ship in the harbor able to make the journey seemed to be preparing to flee.

  At last Harrison’s prayers were answered and he caught sight of the familiar face, but his relief turned to distress when he saw the master hurrying with what looked like his waistcoat wrapped around his right forearm. His scabbard hung empty at his side, the sword missing. The valet’s trained eye also noted what looked like blood spots on his boots.

  John Francis Raphael Allenden greeted his valet with a signal for them to consult behind a stack of crates on the quay. “Sir, you’re hurt!” Harrison cried as he attempted to unwrap the makeshift bandage.

  Allenden stopped him. “A scratch. Far less than what I gave. No, not here. You can tend it aboard. We are in a pickle, Harrison.”

  “A pickle, indeed!” He glared into his young master’s dark brown eyes. “Did I not warn you about what could happen if you went in search of the frigate’s commander?”

  “As always, Harrison, you were correct. But I had to learn if they were heading back to Portsmouth. It would have been a safer and faster passage. No luck—they had already left port.”

  The valet eyed the master’s wounded arm. “Napoleon’s agents?”

  The master replied with a grim nod.

  “Did you…kill them, sir?”

  Allenden shook his head. “I wounded one, but the other fled for help.”

  “Did they know what you had?”

  “They did not say it, but they knew I was to be arrested. Blast it, man, I did not think. I never thought they would be on to me this far south. What a careless mistake to have you book our passage using my real name. I should say we find another ship and use false names, but how would we find something in this maelstrom?”

  “Most unlikely, sir. I have heard crewmen talking about how all the ships’ accommodations along this wharf were sold out by dawn.”

  Allenden considered his choices as he watched an English family hurrying past with overburdened servants in tow. “We will have to obscure the truth, Harrison. I shall pretend to be a new servant recently hired and we will ‘wait for our master’ until the ship departs and then lament that he missed the ship.”

  Harrison suppressed a smile as he shook his head. “Pardon me, sir, but you could never convince a living soul you are a servant.”

  “Even if I only speak Italian?”

  “Sir, quality can no more pretend to be servants than we can pretend to be our betters. You will fool no one.”

  Allenden sighed. “I am afraid you are right. As always.”

  “Yes, sir.” Harrison suggested a more likely scheme. “I shall tell the ship’s captain that you are a school friend of the master’s that he met in town, and he offered you a place in his quarters. That way you can acknowledge your rank but not your identity.”

  The master beamed at his resourceful valet. “Harrison, I would be lost without you.”

  The servant shrugged off the fulsome praise. “Nonsense, sir. But let us get you aboard and tend to that souvenir les citizens gave you.”

  Hiding his waistcoat and the tear in his sleeve, Allenden and his valet ascended the gangplank. When greeted by the ship’s master, Allenden introduced himself as John Francis, a friend of Major Allenden recently added to the party, and the ship’s master welcomed him aboard. Before they went below, Harrison mentioned to the crewman that they hoped his master would be arriving soon.

  In the spacious stateroom, Harrison tended to the slash on Allenden’s forearm. The wound had bled freely, but its superficiality made it easy to close. In the short term, the bloodied shirt could be hidden from sight by the topcoat, which was dark enough to hide any blood that would not wash out. However, the silk waistcoat, which Allenden had used to staunch the wound’s flow, could not be saved. The valet lamented the loss. “I am certain the earl will understand.”

  “My brother would rather have me back safely and thank his birthday gift for its noble sacrifice.” He added slyly, “If only the same could be said for the sentiments of his wife.”

  Harrison managed to hold back a chuckle as he finished tying the bandage. “There you are, sir. You will be as good as new in a fortnight. I will get to work on washing and mending.” After some thought, he looked at the stateroom’s teakwood cabinets bolted to the walls. In a quiet voice he asked, “Do you wish to store the information here for the voyage?”

  Allenden declined the suggestion. “I shall keep it with me. The ship’s company is a mixed lot. We cannot trust anyone until I am inside the War Office.”

  Harrison nodded with understanding. “Sir, after I put these to soak, shall we go up to the deck and wait for Major Allenden to arrive?”

  “You go. I shall stay here and get to work on the clothes. If any of the Frenchmen come by the ship and see me on board, I will be done for.”

  Harrison apologized for his thoughtlessness and went up to wait by the gangplank.

  Allenden sat at the small table and surveyed his home for the next few weeks. What a stroke of luck to get such fine quarters for his exodus. If only everyone in harm’s way could escape. He knew he need not worry about his grandparents in Umbria. Even though their rank might draw the attention of an invading army, their advanced age and remote location meant they would be of little importance to the French. They would be fine. But those at the ball last night were another matter. He had recognized the family that passed them on the quay from the previous night’s festivities. If the French moved in as soon as the English navy ship departed the area, any civilians left behind could be held as hostages or ransomed to support Napoleon’s next conquest.

  When the ambassador had relayed the courier’s grim tidings to him and the other soldiers attending the masquerade, he had left immediately to inform Harrison. How ill-judged was his confidence in his mission’s apparent success! Why had he insisted Harrison find them an English ship going directly home? Too late he realized that they should have escaped yesterday on the first westbound ship. The delay of one day had resulted in near-calamity. He looked at the torn sleeve of his coat. At least there had only been two French agents, so he could fight his way out. But many an English civilian in town would lack the skills to do the same. He hoped all those at the masquerade last night had heeded the warning to leave. In particular, he wished safety to that delicate little creature in the Elizabethan dress. What a pleasure it had been to see her come alive during the evening. He worried what would happen to so frail a woman if the French took her prisoner.