Home Is the Sailor

by Lee Rowan

  “Certainly.” Davy rested his head against Will’s. “I wish there were some way we could be more… athletic,” he said. “I’d love to feel you inside me. But I fear it’s not possible.”

  “Certainly not,” Will said. “We’d tip the coach over. Besides, you’ve wrung me out.” But he was beginning to recover himself, and a quick caress showed that Davy was more than ready for action himself. Will tugged Davy’s shirt up out of his breeches and slid his hands up under Davy’s clothing, stroking his flat, warm belly with the left while he attacked the fly buttons with the right. “We might have tried if you hadn’t been so hasty.”

  “No.” Davy leaned against Will’s chest, his head tilted back in pleasure. “Wouldn’t dare. My uniform…. We’ve only one quick stop to change horses before we—Will!” Will’s hand closed around him, and he twisted around to meet Will’s lips with his own. The conversation evaporated; Davy’s state of excitement required very little encouragement, and when Will reached one hand behind to slide a finger inside at a critical moment, he lost composure altogether. Things might have been quite raucous if he had shouted into the air instead of Will’s mouth.

  “Thank God for road noise,” he said fervently when his quivering stopped. Will wondered how he managed to put two thoughts together under the circumstances, but Davy had always been better with words. They were becoming disgracefully adept at dalliance in a chaise. The circumstances were ideal: curtains that could be closed, a gentle rocking motion ideally suited for close contact… not as comfortable as a room, perhaps, but in its own way even better. The postboy was riding the lead horse; they ran absolutely no risk of being disturbed without warning.

  Will tried to ignore the small voice in the back of his mind that warned this might have been their last opportunity, and brought up something that had been nagging at him since Davy blithely announced their destination. “Before we get to your home, Davy, would you please do me one favor?”

  Busy tidying himself with his handkerchief, Davy grinned. “Good heavens, Will, after all that? You must be indefatigable!”

  “Not that!” he said, blushing despite himself. “It’s your family. There are so many of them. I’ve met your mother, and your sister—Mary, was it? And I know your sister Amelia writes to you sometimes. Could you remind me once more of the rest of their names?”

  “Of course, Will. I’m sorry, there’s quite a crowd of Archers, isn’t there? I have two brothers and four sisters: Mark, the eldest brother, is my father’s heir. Then there’s Mary, Ronald, Anne, Amelia, myself, and Genie. Eugenie, but don’t ever call her that. Amelia and Genie are still at home. Mark and his wife, Virginia, also live at Grenbrook with their three daughters when they are not in town, but if we’re lucky, the girls may be spending Christmas with Virginia’s mother. Any of the others may be there, with or without their spouses—the last I heard, Anne’s husband was away in the Army. And I believe we have a cousin staying at the place, and, of course, there are all manner of servants. I shall write up a list of dramatis personae when I can get hold of a pen and paper.”

  He was joking, of course, but Will was not when he said, “I may need it.”

  Chapter 3

  “GOOD LORD.”

  The words were spoken in reverence, not as an oath, when the post chaise left the road and entered the tree-lined drive to Grenbrook Manor, which wound through a grove of young oaks, their bare branches making patterns against the sky. The house, dignified without being extravagant, lay some half a mile away, though the curving drive extended the distance.

  “Davy, when you said your family had a ‘biggish country house,’ I thought you actually meant a fair-sized country house, not a half-grown castle. They won’t be expecting you to bring home strays, I’m sure. You’d best have the driver let me off at the servants’ entrance.”

  David chuckled as Will nervously adjusted the single epaulet that identified him as a Commander in His Majesty’s Navy. The old place did look impressive, especially when the bare trees let it be seen from such a distance. Only the newer part of the house was visible from here, the stern brick walls brightened by evergreen shrubbery. He wished he might have brought Will to see it in the spring. “If you go in the servants’ entrance, I’ll have to, as well. Bear up, Will. Once you’ve passed inspection, we should be given at least some time to ourselves. I have always been so far down the chain of command in this place, I ought to salute the butler.”

  “Yes, but you’re an Archer, a son of the house. You belong here. I’m—”

  “I’ve told you this before, sir! You are an officer of His Majesty’s Navy, you are in command of your own ship—or at least you were until a few days ago, and you still hold that rank, regardless—and you are my commanding officer. You are also my dearest friend, and if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here myself.” Will still looked so serious, he could not resist teasing, “By now Father must be desperate to find a husband for Amelia, and Genie’s old enough to be considering the question too.”

  Will’s black eyebrows flew up in alarm. “Davy!”

  “Gently, Will, gently. You’re safe enough.” He patted Will’s arm as he might pat a nervous horse. “I wouldn’t let Genie have you, even if she weren’t far too young. She would drive you mad straightaway, and you would make her miserable. And from all I can determine, Amelia means to be a bluestocking spinster. She cares more for her books than any living man, though if you were in the market, she might actually consider you, on my recommendation.”

  Will did not look consoled. “But your father—would he actually expect me to…?”

  “Oh, good Lord, of course not! I’m sure he would be delighted if you took a fancy to each other, but you’ve not even met her yet, and I do have a certain prior claim!”

  “Yes, but that’s hardly something you could tell your family.”

  “I’m afraid not. Wouldn’t if I could—it would make all my sisters jealous.” Truth be known, if David were to compare his friend to his two brothers-in-law, the gentlemen married to his elder sisters would suffer by the comparison. “Even if we did not have”—he stroked Will’s palm with his thumb—“our own arrangement, you have done me service enough by coming with me into the lion’s den.”

  Will gave him an odd look. “Is it so difficult to live in this grand style?”

  David realized how foolish he must have sounded, and smiled apologetically. “It’s not the place, as such. I love it, if you want to know the truth. And I can’t deny its superiority to a midshipman’s berth…. But that’s not what I meant, Will. It’s not the place so much as the people—or, rather, my own place among them, as a disappointment of a youngest son.”

  “Disappointment?” Will snorted. “I’ll not speak ill of your father, but if he is disappointed in you, his expectations must have been preposterous.”

  “They were stringent, at any rate. But I believe the new uniform will improve my standing.” David looked down at his own extremely elegant Lieutenant’s dress uniform, which he had barely had occasion to wear since he’d picked it up at a Portsmouth tailor’s shop over a year ago. “It’s been almost four years since I’ve been home, and I was only a midshipman then. The novelty ought to give me a bit of credit.”

  “If the prospect is so unpleasant, Davy, why on earth did you wish to come here? I’d have gone anywhere else with you, and gladly.”

  “Oh, you mustn’t take my complaints too seriously.” He wasn’t entirely sure of his own reasons, though traveling elsewhere with Will did sound agreeable. “I thought Sir Percy’s suggestion had the sound of an order about it, didn’t you? Where else were we to go?”

  “We’d have thought of something.” Will hesitated. “But—surely your family will be glad to see you, and have you home for a little while? Especially after they came so close to losing you!”

  David sometimes envied Will his freedom from the weight of family expectations. “Most of them will, yes. I do want to see my mother again, and my sisters.” It wou
ld be good to be reunited with at least some of the family, especially after that time when he thought he might never see any of them again. “And my eldest brother.”

  Will nodded. “Will your other brother be here as well?”

  “Ronald? I hope not. But I truly don’t know. Amelia said he had expected to be home for Christmas, but could not get leave for some reason. With the Peace, I’d have expected his regiment to return to England. Or it may not have been; I’ve no idea where he was last stationed.”

  With a slight frown, Will said, “Are you certain there’ll be room for me?”

  “Yes, of course. This is nothing unusual, really; the family often gathers here at Christmastime. If Anne’s husband in still in India, she may well have come with the intention of staying until spring.” He smiled once more at the look of worry on Will’s face. “Look at the bright side, Will. The house itself is bigger than a dreadnought, the entire crew is much smaller, and we can always go out for a stroll if the togetherness is more than we can bear.”

  “I’m sorry,” Will said. “Of course you should visit your family—how often do you get the chance? And I do appreciate the hospitality. It has simply been so long since I’ve been ashore in civilian company—what shall I do, with no one to salute?”

  “Oh, if that’s your only worry, rest assured. You’ll know who’s in command. My father is quite masterful.” Although, he remembered, Mark was beginning to take the reins. It would be interesting to see how smoothly the Earl and his heir were dealing with the transfer of power; his father was proud of Mark, and getting on in years. It was none too soon to pass the torch. But would he be able, in fact, to relinquish his control over every last detail?

  David bit his lip as the carriage swept around the last curve to slow before the pillared entryway. It felt as though returning to the family home was moving him back through time, turning him once again into the youngest brother, the least among them, always cautious, guarding his words.

  No. He would not go back to that old role. Whatever the family might expect, he had outgrown it. He had a modest inheritance: the prize money he’d won, the house in London. He was a man grown, in control of his own life. His father would simply have to accept that fact.

  As the coach drew up under the porte cochere, he acknowledged to himself where his true loyalties lay. “Will, I know I’ve spoken of him before, and it is vile of me to cast aspersions on my own flesh and blood—but if Ronald should be here, you must always be on your guard around him.”

  Will shot him a curious look, but said nothing. They had been through enough together that Will knew he would not say such a thing without cause, and the few times he had mentioned Ronald before, he’d never had anything good to say of him.

  Then Will looked at the house and caught his breath. “Davy, over the door….”

  David looked—and felt his heart constrict at the sight of the black bunting. Mourning. A death in the family?

  “I’m sorry,” Will said quickly. “Do you have any idea who—?”

  “None. But my father’s not young.” The Earl—strange, to think of one’s father only by his title—was sixty-eight now, his wife seven years younger. “They were all in good health, the last I heard. Mark is in his early forties and is almost never ill. But no, if it were Father, there would be hatchments up as well—his coat of arms. Oh, God, I hope it’s not my mother!”

  After many years of walking about on a moving deck, David didn’t need to wait for the carriage to stop, and he wasn’t worried about a dignified exit. Will was a few steps behind, having given the postboys instructions, and then the door opened and Leland’s honest face gaped at him in amazement.

  “Master David—I’m sorry, sir, Lieutenant Archer—we had no word you were coming.”

  How had his hair grown so grizzled in only four years? David took off his cloak and handed it over. “It’s all right, Leland, the leave was unexpected. I saw the mourning outside. My father—?”

  “He is as well as might be. It was your brother, sir. Lord Mark.”

  Mark? He swallowed, for a moment unable to speak. “But—when? How?”

  “The funeral was three days ago, sir. You had no letter?”

  “The letter’s probably on the water hoy, doing Channel duty,” Will said, just behind him. He looked slightly startled to have his overclothes taken out of his hands; Leland disappeared with them through a nearby door. “We weren’t expected in port, after all. I am sorry, Davy.”

  David nodded. “Leland, how is my mother?”

  The butler, returning empty-handed, smiled sadly. “I’m sure your presence will be a great comfort, sir. She is in her rooms and may be asleep. Shall I show you upstairs?”

  “No—no, I can still find my way about. Is my father in his study?”

  “I believe he is out riding, sir. Three of your sisters are at home, however. I shall see they are informed of your arrival.”

  “Thank you.” Slightly relieved that he was not required to face his father immediately, David turned. “Well, Will, it seems we’re left to our own devices. I believe I can still find my way around the place, unless you would like some refreshment first?”

  “Whatever suits you. I’m glad enough to just stand and walk about for a bit.”

  “Let me show you the old place, then—starting with the necessary facilities.”

  The necessary attended to, he was unsure where to begin. After living on a ship-of-war, the halls of Grenbrook seemed much larger than he remembered, their footfalls echoing hollowly on the polished floors. Mark dead! Mark—big, bluff, hearty, almost a living model of an English landed gentleman. Their mother would be devastated, and the Earl… it had only been a year or two since his eldest son had retired from his Army career to come home and run the estate, after his father had finally admitted that his age and health left him unequal to the task.

  Then it struck him. Ronald is heir, now. Oh holy Jesus. The thought halted David in his tracks; he felt as if the ground was falling away beneath him.

  “What is it?” Will asked.

  He shook his head, unable to explain it in any coherent way. As he hesitated, he realized that two very small, identical toddlers were peeking around the morning-room door, studying the strangers in their handsome blue and white uniforms.

  “Girls, come back here!” a woman’s voice said from beyond the doorway. Then another familiar face appeared behind the children, foreign-looking in her somber black gown. “Davy!” his sister exclaimed, rushing toward them.

  “Amelia!”

  “When did you arrive? We’ve had no word, how long will you stay, oh, it’s so good to see you!”

  He was enveloped in a hearty squeeze, saluted with a kiss on the cheek. “My sister, Amelia,” he explained hastily, at Will’s broad grin.

  “Your twin, I would guess,” Will said.

  “Not quite.” Conscious of the ambiguity due a lady’s age, he added, “There’s a year and a bit between us. Amelia, this is my friend and shipmate, Commander William Marshall.”

  “I am honored to meet you, Lady Amelia.” Will bowed slightly, on his best behavior. “My condolences on your loss.” He glanced at David, then said, “I did not mean to intrude on your grief; if you wish, I can remove to an inn—”

  “Oh, no.” She took his hand. “It was good of you to come. My brother has written of you so often, I feel I’m meeting an old friend.”

  Will smiled, a bit nervously, and looked around as if seeking distraction. He nodded toward the toddlers. “And who are these lovely young ladies?”

  “My sister Anne’s daughters, Catherine and Marianne, and you need not address them as ‘my lady.’ They are almost three. Come here, my dears.” She knelt and held her arms out; the little ones giggled and ran off. “They are contrary little things,” Amelia said, rising. “Nurse has the patience of a saint. The only one they obey without question is Father.”

  “Small wonder,” David said. “Why should they rank above the rest of us?”<
br />
  “Oh, Davy.” She took his arm as though she needed an anchor. “You cannot imagine the change in him. Mark’s death was such a blow, I fear for his health, as well as Mama’s. The doctor has given her a cordial with valerian, to help her sleep.”

  “And Father?”

  “Out riding now. He always seems to be out of doors, and spends most of the daylight hours riding or walking. So much has changed for him now; all the work he and Mark were doing together….” She gave herself a brisk shake. “But you’ve only just arrived. Come, let us have tea and biscuits, at least. You must be famished after your journey!” She took them each by an arm and led them down the hall.

  “Amelia, what happened? Leland told me nothing.”

  “An accident, apparently. He was out hunting, with only his dog. Alone, as usual. You know how he likes—liked—”

  “To bring something fresh for the pot,” David finished. He had not expected Mark would ever change his habits. “Because Cook loves to improvise.”

  “Just so. When he had not returned by noontide, Cook spoke to Leland, and he sent a boy out. They found him near the stream, at the bottom of the embankment, with his dog sitting at the top, waiting for him and whimpering.”

  “By the fishing pool?”

  “Yes. It appeared he had been on the edge, lost his balance, and fell. His fowling piece discharged—they would only let Father see him, of course, but they said he had a terrible wound in his chest. According to the doctor, it was instantly fatal.”

  “A small mercy.” He meant it too; after spending days hovering between life and death himself, when he’d been wounded the year before, it was a bit of comfort to know his brother had not suffered.

  “David, what are we going to do? Ronald—”

  “I don’t know,” he said, further unsettled by her anxiety. “There’s not much we can do, is there? I suppose he’s been sent for—has he arrived?”