Elizabeth smiled up at him, grateful for his efforts to lighten the situation.
“Redoubtable!” she told him with a twinkle. “That is the word my father uses to describe her. She is a spinster, and holds strong views, especially upon the male sex.”
“Oh, Lord!” Chris cowered in mock fright. “I’d hoped to call upon you. Will she hint me away?”
“Of course not! How could she fail to like you? Besides, I shall be much in need of friends.”
“Then I may offer myself as escort?”
“To blue-stocking parties?” Elizabeth laughed. “Shall you enjoy them, sir?”
“With you I shall,” he assured her. “But you can’t be serious. You mean that she attends these gatherings of hideous females, all bent on learned discussion?”
“They can’t all be hideous,” Elizabeth said demurely.
“Nothing more certain,” he predicted. “Sharp noses, teeth like tombstones, beady eyes, long, horsey faces... Oh, I beg your pardon! I did not mean your aunt, of course—” He stopped, conscious of his appalling lack of tact.
“Congratulations!” Perry said drily. “Miss Grantham must be charmed by your opinion of her aunt, and that lady’s friends.”
“Chris was only funning!” Elizabeth gave Perry a downing stare. “I am not in the least offended.”
Perry subsided. It was clear that he was not to be forgiven.
“Oh, Lord! Are we back to formality again?” Chris pulled a comic face at his companions. “What a pair you are! I thought we were to be on first-name terms.”
“That is up to Miss Grantham,” Perry told him stiffly.
“Well, have a heart, old chap! Is there any need to look as if you’ve swallowed a poker? Damn it, Perry, if you ain’t a mystery these days!”
Before he could demand an explanation, Elizabeth intervened. It was unfair to make him feel uncomfortable.
“Mr Wentworth...Perry...may be upon his high ropes, but I am not, I assure you, Chris. Won’t you tell me more about the blue-stocking ladies? It is such an odd expression.”
“Never met one of them myself,” he assured her seriously. “I hear that they wear blue silk stockings rather than the customary black to show their independence. When they meet they...er...jaw away, setting the world to rights.”
Elizabeth smiled at this bald explanation.
“Perry must know more about them,” Chris continued. “His brother holds high office in the Government. What does Brandon say about them?”
Perry stole a sly glance at Elizabeth. This was a topic which was certain to divert her mind from his unfortunate proposal.
“Frederick thinks them misguided,” he announced solemnly. This was not strictly true, but he couldn’t resist the temptation to tease Elizabeth. “The matters they discuss are most unsuitable for ladies.”
As he had expected, her chin went up. “Why is that?” she demanded. “Does he fear that they will overthrow the Government?”
“It could happen,” he assured her. “They hold strong political views. Generally, it is considered in certain circles that Mrs. Elizabeth Montagu has much to answer for!”
“What nonsense!” Elizabeth told him roundly. “Are women not to think?”
“Most certainly! They may think of babies, of fashion, and even of gambling, to their hearts’ content.”
Elizabeth’s eyes flashed. “How like a man to hold such views! We are not dolls, to be petted and patronised by men.”
Perry laughed, in spite of his determination to maintain his dignity. “You think not? Allow me to inform you that the men who support the blue-stockings are considered traitors to their sex!”
Elizabeth saw the twinkle in his eyes, and realised that she was being baited. She was determined to hold her own in this discussion.
“Really? Such opposition must mean, then, that the blue-stockings are regarded as a threat to your present domination?”
Chris gave a shout of glee. “Well done, Elizabeth! You have smitten him hip and thigh! Perry, admit it! You have been routed!”
“Not at all!” Perry found that he was enjoying himself. He was seized with the urge to lead her on. “Will you tell me that you give no thought to bonnets, ribbons and muslins?”
“Of course I do!” she said uncertainly. “But I think of other things, too.”
“Such as whether Denmark Lotion in the best restorative for the complexion?”
“Now you are gammoning me!” She gave him a reluctant smile.
“Not so, ma’am. We have not mentioned jewellery. That is a fancy not to be encouraged. It can prove expensive.”
“I must bow to your experience in such matters,” she told him wickedly.
Perry’s shoulders began to shake. “Have mercy, ma’am!” he begged. “I am confounded! What can be more lowering to a man’s esteem than to be in the company of a clever woman, especially when he ain’t too bright himself?”
Her peal of laughter filled the cabin. “You don’t mean that. One cannot hold a conversation with a stupid person.”
“Ah, there you are mistaken! An inability to converse need be no drawback to a successful season, as long as the lady is presentable, biddable and an ornament to society. She must dance well, perform a little, perhaps upon the harp, which will show her to the best advantage, and be able to sing duets. Those, I believe, are the accomplishments considered necessary.”
“And are there many such paragons among the London ton?”
“Dozens!” he said ruefully. “With not an idea between them.”
Elizabeth studied her fingers. “I am surprised to find you still a bachelor,” she marvelled.
“Perry, that takes the trick!” Chris was convulsed with glee. “Give it up! You won’t best Elizabeth.”
She blushed a little at that. “Well, it is all so foolish. Is a woman to have no opinions?”
“None!” Perry told her solemnly.
“Then I suppose I must resign myself to being shunned. I am inclined to speak my mind, you know.”
This artless statement was too much for her companions. They both went into whoops.
“You need not fall about like that,” she told them with a kindling eye. “I can’t think what you find so amusing.”
“Beg pardon, ma’am!” Perry was the first to recover his composure. “You sympathise with your namesake, then?”
“With Mrs Elizabeth Montagu? Of course I do! I shall attend these blue-stocking meetings with my aunt. Doubtless, I shall find them interesting.”
“Certainly!” Perry agreed in solemn tones. “They are the answer for those wearied by the tedious amusements of society. One grows so bored with routs and balls, the visits to the sights of London, the balloon ascents, and riding in the Park. Nothing can be more dreary than a visit to the Vauxhall Gardens, or driving out to Richmond or Kew.”
Elizabeth eyed him with suspicion. “I shall do all those things,” she promised. Then she saw the amusement on his face. It quite disarmed her, and she dimpled. “Making may-game of me again?” she accused him.
When they parted Perry felt that he had gone some little way to restoring good relations with Elizabeth. Their discussion had been heated, but he sensed that she’d enjoyed it.
Even so, there was still a barrier between them. The memory of that unfortunate proposal and the reason for it could not be so easily forgotten.
Elizabeth herself was lost in thought. Up to now she had not considered what her life must be in London, but now it came forcibly to mind.
She began to wonder about her aunt. As a spinster, Miss Mary Grantham might find the charge of a young girl no pleasant prospect. It must, of necessity, force her to make changes to her way of life, and it would certainly disrupt her household.
Would she be the dragon that Elizabeth imagined? How often had her father shaken his head, dismayed by his sister’s habit of travelling unattended to uncharted regions of the East. The dangers did not cross her mind, as Mr Grantham often pointed out.
And when she returned it was with the oddest notions. Was it not in Turkey that she had become convinced of the value of vaccination against smallpox? Elizabeth shuddered as she touched her own smooth cheek. For some, a frightful death from the disease was preferable to the ravages of a pockmarked skin. Many victims were forced to wear a mask, or to venture out only at night, when darkness hid them from horrified eyes.
She could not wonder that her aunt had sought some remedy against the scourge.
Her thoughts returned to Perry. Today he had been charming, and she had taken his teasing in good part. How she would miss the easy camaraderie of this voyage with himself and Chris.
However liberal her aunt’s ideas, in London she would be forced to lead a more restricted life. The journey to England had been long, uncomfortable, and terrifying on more than one occasion, but she had no wish for it to end.
The reason was not far to seek. Perry’s forced offer had wounded her to the heart, but she could not banish her love for him, though she had vowed to do so. Now, when their parting was growing ever nearer, she felt desolate.
She sighed. What a fool she was! He’d made his feelings about her all too clear. She had nothing in common with those feather-headed creatures he admired.
He did not care for her. That kiss which she had treasured might have been stolen from any tavern wench. Where was her pride? She had been rejected not once, but twice. At Genoa it was understandable. Her father’s suggestion had come as a shock to him, but his unwilling obedience to his captain’s orders had cut her to the quick.
A woman of any spirit would not have allowed herself to think of him at all. She longed for that blessed peace of mind, but it was impossible to achieve.
Once installed in London, all she could hope for was a formal meeting. That is, if he chose to call on her at all. Their conversation would be confined to platitudes.
But she must not fall prey to despair. Even if these last few weeks of close companionship had meant nothing to him, he could no longer think of her as a spoilt child. During the battle she had proved her worth in some small way, if only in her tending of the wounded.
How dared he offer for her at his captain’s orders? Elizabeth’s eyes flashed. The memory was still galling. An outright refusal to obey would have been far more to his credit. Nothing in his manner had suggested tenderness or affection. What a blow it would have been if she’d accepted him! A grim smile hovered about her lips. At this moment no doubt he was congratulating himself upon a narrow escape.
Her pride came to her rescue. She would not wear the willow for a man who didn’t care for her. If her life in London became unbearable, Aunt Grantham might agree to send her back to Italy. That lady might not share her father’s fear of imminent invasion.
The thought should have cheered her, but it didn’t. She sighed and opened her book again.
Perry, too, was struggling with emotions which were new to him. Under a full spread of canvas, the Artemis was speeding home to Portsmouth in a fair wind, and as he paced the quarterdeck he had plenty of time for reflection.
Even more than Elizabeth, he was dreading landfall. At sea, he could be always in her company, but he needed time to persuade her to think more kindly of him. Not for the first time, he cursed his own folly. So many opportunities had been wasted.
Once ashore, it would be far more difficult to persuade her of his love. Convention would make it impossible for him to meet with her alone.
There would be the journey to London in her company, but with the captain’s notions of propriety it was more than likely that he’d be saddled with some genteel female to bear Elizabeth company. At best he could expect an abigail to see to Elizabeth’s needs.
The notion brought an involuntary chuckle. He could well imagine her reaction. An unknown female companion, genteel or otherwise, would not be welcome to her. She had little use for the proprieties.
Blood will out, he told himself. From what little he had learned about Miss Mary Grantham, it seemed that she and Elizabeth were kindred spirits. Both ladies were strong-minded, scorned convention, and had little regard for danger.
Yet he was not so foolish as to suppose that Miss Grantham’s undoubted eccentricity would lead her into a damaging disregard for Elizabeth’s reputation. The lady was no fool. His own brother held her in high regard. In Frederick’s eyes, her brains did her no disservice.
Perry sighed. He might bid farewell to any hope of seeing Elizabeth every day, or dancing with her more than twice at any gathering. If she were allowed to drive with him, it would be under the supervision of a chaperon.
Why had he wasted all these weeks in bickering with his love? He should have had more sense. The time might have been better spent in wooing her, convincing her of his affection.
“Land ho!” A call from the crow’s nest broke in upon his musings. The mist had lifted and to his right he saw the distant outline of the coast of France. By his reckoning the Artemis was off La Rochelle. By morning they would reach the English Channel. Unless the wind dropped, they would anchor in Portsmouth before nightfall.
Elizabeth, too, had heard the lookout’s cry. Throwing her cloak about her shoulders she hurried on deck.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“We are off the French coast.”
“Shall we be attacked again?” she shivered.
“Don’t be afraid!” Perry told her gently. “An attack is unlikely. Their fleet is far to the south.”
Elizabeth drew herself to her full height. “I’m not afraid!” she said with dignity. “I’m shivering because it is so very cold. The wind is like needles against my face. How it cuts through clothing!”
“You will grow accustomed to our northern weather,” he comforted. Then he smiled. “We should be lost without the vagaries of our climate. It is a favourite topic of conversation...”
“Sir, you are teasing me again.”
“I assure you, it is quite true. Within a single day we may have gales, rain, sunshine and even snow.”
“But only in the winter, I must hope.”
“I’ve known it to snow in May and June.”
“I don’t believe you!” She was betrayed into a gurgle of amusement.
“Just wait and see!”
“No, no! If it is as you say, I shall persuade my aunt to send me back to Italy at once.”
“Is that what you wish for most?” Perry was looking down at her with an unfathomable expression. Her eyes met his and then she looked away.
“Of course!” she lied. “Can you doubt it? What is there for me in England?”
Perry longed to tell her. At that moment he would have offered her his heart, but her face was closed.
“You will find something,” he murmured lightly.
“Shall I? I wish that I could be so sure.” She left him then and went below.
It was the rattle of the anchor-chain which wakened her on the following morning. She ran to the window to find the Artemis moored beside a bustling quay.
This must be England. How quaint and foreign it appeared to her curious eyes. She felt a little twinge of panic, wondering how she would fare among this nation of strangers. Then she heard a tapping at her door. It was Captain Robsart.
“My dear, you cannot travel on today. Will you do me the honour of staying at my home until arrangements can be made?”
Elizabeth thanked him with her prettiest smile. Perry was nowhere to be seen, so she gathered up her few possessions, bade farewell to Chris, and allowed herself to be led ashore and into a waiting carriage.
The captain’s house was not far from the docks, and it was clear that his arrival was eagerly awaited.
As the carriage rolled to a halt two boys ran out to greet him, followed by a small, plump woman and a girl of about the same age as herself.
The captain kissed his wife. Then he chuckled as his daughter threw her arms about his neck.
“Tears, Carrie? I flattered myself that you’d be glad to see me.”
“Papa, of course I am, but you’ve been away so long...”
“Well, so I have, but now I am back again, and ready to keep you all in order.” The captain slipped an arm about his wife. “I have brought you a visitor, my dear. This is Miss Grantham, come from Genoa. May I recommend her to your kindness?”
A pair of bright blue eyes examined Elizabeth. “You sailed on the Artemis, Miss Grantham?” Clearly, the lady was astonished. She turned to her husband for an explanation.
“My love, it is a lengthy tale. Miss Grantham’s father was concerned for her safety in these troubled times. Now she is to travel on to London to stay with her aunt.”
“I see.” The captain’s wife was not altogether satisfied. “Your woman, Miss Grantham? Does she follow with your baggage?”
“Ma’am, I came alone...without a maid, I mean...” Elizabeth flushed under the close scrutiny. For the first time she realised that it might not be so easy to avoid all suspicion of scandal. “Please...if it is inconvenient for me to stay with you, I shall be happy to put up at an inn.”
Mrs Robsart looked at her again. The girl was obviously gently bred, and little older than her own Caroline.
“Nonsense!” she said briskly. “That would not serve at all. You are most welcome here—that is, if you do not object to share with my daughter?”
Elizabeth curtsied. She felt uncomfortable, but she felt that she must accept. To insist upon staying at an inn alone would sink her even further in the eyes of the captain’s wife. Even so, it was hateful to be here on sufferance.
Suddenly, she felt desperately homesick, and her lips quivered. She was perilously close to tears.
“There, there, my dear!” Mrs. Robsart laid a hand upon her arm. “My bark is much worse than my bite, as my family will tell you. You must be very tired. Won’t you go with Caroline?”
Elizabeth did as she was bidden, following the girl upstairs to a large and airy room furnished with two cots. She wondered why her companion did not speak. Then she realised that Caroline was too shy to address her.
“This is kind of you,” she murmured. “Shall you mind sharing your room with me?”
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