by Lee Rowan
When they arrived at home, her father took the Commander off to his study. Cynthia handed her cloak to Noreen, their maid, instructing her to see that a kettle was set to boil in the kitchen. Proceeding to the parlor, she was pleased to see her grandmother sitting by the window, busy with her knitting. “Grandmama, we have a visitor!”
“Not that Humboldt blockhead, I hope,” her grandmother said crisply. “What your father sees in that boy, I do not know. He has no more conversation than a haddock.”
“No,” Cynthia said. “For once it is not Mr. Humboldt. It’s a naval officer, Commander Paul Andrew Smith, and he seems quite the gentleman. We’ll be traveling with him, Grandmama, his ship will be part of the convoy to Nova Scotia.”
Shrewd blue eyes studied her from under the ruffled cap brim, and a face that looked much like a wizened apple folded into dozens of smile-wrinkles. “Handsome, is he?” She chuckled as Cynthia struggled to find words that would not make her sound like a dithering child. “My word! He must be very handsome if he leaves you speechless.”
Cynthia put her hands to her cheeks, which seemed to be on fire. “Yes, he is, you terrible old woman,” she said affectionately. “He is tall, handsome, courteous, and… oh, my dear Grandmama, he has the most beautiful baritone. I should dearly love to hear him sing.”
Her grandmother tsked. “All that, and a voice as well? Don’t get your hopes up too quickly, my dear. Excellent young men are all too rare and seldom available. We must first discover whether he already has a wife.”
“Grandmama! I had not thought—”
“Cynthia, I am an old woman and I know the signs. When a calm, sensible girl like yourself bolts into the room and starts babbling about a handsome man with a voice that tickles her down to her toes—”
Even one’s grandmother should not know one’s inner feelings. “I never!”
“Child, that’s nothing to be ashamed of! There is something about a deep, rumbling voice….” She fanned herself. “My first husband, your grandfather, had a voice like that, and it made me warm all over just to hear him speak. What a man he was!” Her look turned from the past. “But you must first discover whether this gentleman is fair game, for there’s nothing but misery in longing for someone else’s husband—I know that firsthand. Leave it to me. I’m old enough to ask impertinent questions without fear of giving offense.”
Cynthia settled on a footstool beside her grandmother’s rocking chair. “Grandmama, even if he is unmarried—and even if he were to take an interest in me, which I hardly think likely—Papa is determined that we must go to Nova Scotia. With Commander Smith waiting for us, I fear that we shall be leaving sooner than we expected to.”
“Nothing will be settled in less than a week,” her grandmother said. “I had everything arranged with my Ben—your grandfather—inside five days. And on one point, I am determined: no girl with as much sense and feeling as you possess will be married to a whey-faced ninny like Evelyn Humboldt.”
“On that, we are as one,” Cynthia assured her. “Would you care for a cup of mint tea while I see to dinner?”
COMMANDER SMITH found his attention wandering from the nautical chart that Edward Lancaster had spread on the desk before him. One moment he would be studying the Bay of Fundy, and the next he would be distracted by the memory of a pair of bright, intelligent eyes whose color seemed as changeable as the sea.
Cynthia. What a perfect name for a girl whose face was as round as the moon and as soft and pink as a peach. And what a brave little thing she was—no more than an inch or so over five feet, but she had flown to her father’s defense like an Amazon warrior. A pity she had only been a trifle off-balance; if she had actually fallen, he might have caught her and had the chance to hold that lovely, ripe figure in his arms. With single women said to be scarce in the colonies, how was it that she did not yet have a home and family of her own? Did America make its young men stupid?
The cessation of Lancaster’s speech brought Smith to the sudden realization that his voluptuous Amazon’s father was frowning at him.
“Surely you cannot expect ice so early in the season?”
Smith coughed. “No, I do not expect it, although it is possible to encounter icebergs. That would be certain if we were to sail much farther north. In the waters around Nova Scotia, we should be safe enough. Have you been to the northern colonies yourself, sir?”
“Once only, this past summer, but my elder son has been there for a year now. On land, of course, not at sea.”
“I see. And your daughter?”
Lancaster gave him a puzzled look. “No, of course not—why should I drag her along on business? She stays here with my mother when I travel. My son Winston assures me the new house is snug and warm, with plenty of firewood at the ready. The ladies should be comfortable enough.”
“I’m sure they will. As to our voyage—like any other, we can but keep our halyards coiled, our sails taut, and hope for fair winds.”
“True enough. Would you care for a spot of brandy before dinner?”
“Yes, thank you.” When the brandy was duly poured, Smith raised his glass. “As we say aboard ship, the ladies, God bless ’em!”
“Indeed!”
Smith wondered if his host would be as cordial if he realized the Commander’s salute was addressed not to some nameless ladies, but to Miss Cynthia Lancaster.
“Commander, I have quartered His Majesty’s officers here before and have room enough. Would you do me the honor of staying in my home while we prepare to depart? My carriage would be at your disposal, should you need it for official business.”
That was a complication Smith had not considered. Would it be honorable to stay under the same roof as an attractive young woman who had taken such complete possession of his thoughts? Possibly not—unless his intentions were honorable. On the other hand, if this brief time was all he had to make her acquaintance, he had better seize the chance. Besides, how could he reasonably refuse such a generous offer?
“Thank you, sir. If there will be time before dinner, I shall walk to the inn and have my luggage sent here.”
“Excellent. We dine at seven here; we keep earlier hours than in England—but I expect you know that.”
“Yes, sir. Ship’s meals are much the same. I’ll be back as soon as possible, then.”
AFTER DINNER had been served, the succulence of the joint noted, and Miss Lancaster’s talents in the kitchen given full credit, Mistress Lilymae Leggett, formerly Stanton, formerly Lancaster, née Beaton, primed her powder and ran out her guns. “Tell me, Captain. What does your wife say when you vanish for months at a time?”
Paul Smith blinked, then suppressed a smile, realizing from whence Miss Lancaster had inherited her direct attitude. Her grandmother might have reached threescore and ten, but she apparently possessed a keen mind, and she had attained an age where she might, without fear of censure, put aside indirect behavior. Paul had always enjoyed conversation with sensible old women, beginning with his own grandmother. Their wit kept a man on his toes.
“Mistress Leggett, there is an old Navy proverb with which you may not be acquainted: a midshipman cannot have a wife, a lieutenant may, and a captain must. Since I am only one step above Lieutenant and one below Captain, I have only just reached the stage of my life where it is necessary to win myself a helpmeet. However, I think that the long separations of a Navy career would be most trying on a sailor’s wife. I would never attempt to convince a young lady that it would be otherwise.”
The old lady nodded. “Well spoken, sir. My third husband, Mr. Leggett, was a sailor in his youth. He gave it up after his captain was eaten by natives of the Cannibal Isles. You don’t travel there, I hope?”
“I have not, madam, and it appears that, between France and these colonial rebels, I shall most likely be dealing with slightly more civilized adversaries for the foreseeable future.”
“Where have you traveled, Commander?” Cynthia asked, giving her grandmother a quelling look
.
“Of late, back and forth between England and the colonies. I have seen some service in patrolling the Channel, of course; every British sailor spends some time on Channel patrol. As a midshipman, I visited the West Indies a few times, but apart from the chance to swim in tropical waters, I never saw much of the islands. The climate is quite lovely—except, of course, in the hurricane season.”
Cynthia smiled at that last, and he resolved to see if he could find a way to make her smile again.
“And have you ever seen a mermaid, Captain?”
“Mythical creatures,” Edward Lancaster huffed. “As well ask if he’s seen a sea serpent!”
“Ah, but I did, sir,” Paul responded. “With my own eyes, God’s truth.”
“I beg your pardon!”
“I have seen a sea serpent—or the remains of one. A most curious creature, washed up on shore in the Hebrides. It had gray skin like an elephant, and a serpentine head and neck, attached to a bulbous body shaped something like the head of a seal.”
“Some jest by fools with more time than sense, I warrant.”
“No, sir. My captain said he had heard of such things, and thought it might be the sort of beast the Scots have reported seeing in Loch Ness. Whatever the creature may be, it must be quite shy in its living state. As to mermaids—” He smiled apologetically at Cynthia. “—I regret to confirm your father’s assessment—those ladies are most probably mythical. There are water creatures that men call by that name, to tease their new shipmates, but the creatures are extremely unattractive, except perhaps to one another.”
She shrugged good-naturedly. “I thought as much. Still, they make for interesting fairy tales. I thought if they existed anywhere, the warm southern waters would be most hospitable.”
Meeting her eyes, which had taken on the sea green color of her dress, Paul had a startling fantasy of the dignified Miss Lancaster with her golden hair undone, floating like a mermaid in the warm waters of the Caribbean. The thought was so distracting that he nearly choked on a bit of her excellent pumpkin pie.
“Mr. Humboldt will not wish to hear your fantasies of mermaids and sea serpents,” Lancaster said with a stern look at his daughter.
“I am sure he would not,” she said evenly. “If he were here, I would not have mentioned them.”
“Mr. Humboldt,” Paul said, wondering at the sudden tension between the two. “A member of your firm, is he not?”
“Indeed he is,” said Lancaster. “A most valued member. And once we have settled in Nova Scotia, I expect him to become my son-in-law.”
Mrs. Leggett made an exasperated sound. The look she gave her son said clearly that she was holding her tongue only out of consideration for their guest.
There was no response Smith could make but “I see.” It would hardly be courteous to leap from his seat, seize his pistol, and go off to challenge Mr. Humboldt, no matter how deeply satisfying such a course of action might be. But it was Cynthia’s reaction that most concerned him, and he was gratified to see the flash of anger in her eyes that suggested she was not in complete accord with her father’s wishes.
If Lancaster had been a wiser man, he would have let the matter rest. He was not quite wise enough.
“Cynthia, my dear, would you prefer to have the wedding here, before we leave, so that your friends might attend? There should be time enough to post the banns.”
Cynthia took a deep breath, a flush brightening her cheeks. “Papa, since you ask, no, I would not. The truth of the matter is that Mr. Humboldt has not proposed to me. I believe it would be much too forward of me to consider marriage with a gentleman who has not even issued a proposal.”
Lancaster’s color rose to match his daughter’s. “Come, daughter, you know that this match has been decided for a year or more. I gave Humboldt permission to broach the matter to you some weeks ago.”
“And as yet he has not, and I have pride enough that I will not consider marriage to a man who does not possess courage enough to ask me to my face.” Cynthia exchanged a look with her grandmother and rose suddenly from her chair; Paul nearly knocked his own chair over in trying to stand, as good manners required. “Excuse me,” she said. “I feel slightly unwell. Your pardon, Papa, Commander.” Smith bowed and smiled; Cynthia left the room with calm dignity, and Lancaster at least had sense enough not to follow her or call her back.
He did have the grace to apologize, if apology it could be called, as Smith resumed his seat. “Cynthia is normally a sensible girl, but she’s in a dither over leaving Trenton. Just like her mother; I suppose the ladies hate to pack up housekeeping. My dear Penelope raised a terrible fuss when we removed here from England, said she could never survive being so far away from her home.”
“And she passed away within a year,” his mother said sharply. “Edward, if I didn’t know you were the son of my body, I would swear the fairies brought you.” She raised an eyebrow at Smith, and he could swear she wanted to say, You see the situation? What are you going to do about it? “I hope you’ll pardon an outspoken old woman, Captain. Raising four children and three grandchildren has taken a heavy toll on my patience. If you will excuse me?”
“Certainly,” he said, rising once again. “It is I who should apologize,” he said after she had bustled out. “I regret if my presence has put a strain on your household.”
“No, no, nothing of the kind.” Lancaster went to the sideboard and brought out a brandy decanter. “I don’t believe in arguing with the ladies, you know—unfair to ’em, poor things; they don’t have the same level of reason we do. Tell them how things stand, wait until the fussing and flapping quiets down, then follow through with your plans. You’d think they would realize that once these Rebels have been put in their place, I expect to return to the old firm. After all, how long can a few disaffected farmers stand against the finest fighting force in the world?”
He looked so smug that for a moment Paul wanted to toss the brandy across the table. But on sober reflection—he was a large man, and it took more than the two cups of ale he’d drunk with dinner to make him tipsy—Paul did see the logic of Lancaster’s attitude. Like a ship with its captain, a household required a commander. But like a ship’s captain, that commander needed to have a clear idea of the capabilities of his crew.
In Paul’s family home, the chain of command resembled an admiral’s flagship. As Admiral, the Viscount dealt with the world at large and made significant decisions, but his mother had always been the flag-captain, in command of all decisions that affected the household. Circumstances were different, of course; even if Paul’s father had wanted to relocate, the family home was entailed and could not be sold, and neither of his parents would ever dream of leaving England.
Smith knew that because of his attraction to Cynthia, his opinion of Edward Lancaster was not objective. And the man was correct in one respect—moving his business and his family out of jeopardy was a sensible course of action. If her father had presented the move to Cynthia as a temporary relocation, she would probably have agreed without demur. Paul thought it a pity that Lancaster gave insufficient respect to ladies as clearly intelligent as Cynthia and her grandmother, but he suspected that, for their part, the ladies tended their household realm and ignored their Lord and Master as much as possible.
Lancaster proposed a game of chess, and Paul accepted. Through the course of the game, he learned that his host was a shrewd tactician but had a tendency to underestimate his opponent. Smith won the game, but narrowly, and promised a rematch after dinner the next evening. As he bade his host good night, he wondered whether he would have time enough for a cutting-out action in the days to follow… and wondered if courting Miss Lancaster under these circumstances could be considered a dereliction of duty.
CYNTHIA STAYED in her room until the sounds from downstairs made it clear that her father had gone to his study with their guest. She washed her face, put herself in order, and went down to discharge her duties, making certain Noreen had left the ki
tchen in good order and that the fire in the parlor had been banked for the night. It was growing chilly downstairs, so she fetched a wrapper from her room as she passed it, then went down the hall to visit her grandmother.
“Come in, child,” Mrs. Leggett called in answer to her gentle tap. She was sitting in a low chair beside the fire, and Cynthia pulled up a footstool.
“Oh, Grandmama, how could I have been such a fool?”
“Really? When did this occur?”
“At the table, of course! Losing my temper in that way. He must think me a shrew.”
“In that case, I believe the young man may be partial to shrews. You were not watching him when your father announced what he is pleased to consider your engagement. For a moment the Captain looked as threatening as a thundercloud. Then you set the matter straight, and the weather cleared.”
“Truly?”
“Yes, indeed. Stir up the fire a bit, please, and help me change into my nightdress.”
Cynthia did as requested, assisting the lady to shed her several layers of clothing and don her heavy flannel nightgown. When that was done, she slid the warming pan with its load of hot stones out from between the covers, and Mrs. Leggett, still quite agile at the age of sixty-seven, put herself to bed.
Pulling the covers up to her chin, she sighed comfortably. “Ah, lovely. A warm bed is one of life’s great comforts, even if there’s no one to share it.”
“Grandmama, you are the naughtiest respectable woman I have ever met.”
“Oh, child, you know I was never as naughty as I might pretend to have been. But I am not pretending when I tell you this—if you are seriously considering Captain Smith as a prospective husband, there is something you must consider. He spoke honestly when he said a sailor’s wife has a difficult row to hoe. You would face all troubles on your own, your children would most probably be brought into the world without him there to give you support, and you might not even see him more than once or twice in a year’s time, or even longer.”