by Carola Dunn
Mr. Datchett was one of the young sparks Pirate had invited aboard the Buccaneer, and also one of Alicia’s admirers. She was also well acquainted with Lady Datchett and Miss Sophie Datchett. As Pirate drew up his gig beside their landau, she greeted them, and then turned to speak to Mr. Datchett, who was on horseback and rode around to her side.
She heard Pirate say, “Just the ladies I hoped to meet. I daresay Freddie has mentioned, ma’am, that I am making up a party for a day’s cruise to Greenwich in my father’s yacht. May I hope you and Miss Datchett will join us?”
Mr. Datchett shot his friend a look of outraged betrayal which made Alicia giggle. The trip must have been proposed as a gentlemen-only chance for a frolic.
In answer to a query from Lady Datchett, Pirate started to expatiate upon the Buccaneer’s luxurious appointments.
“Shall you go, Miss Roscoe?” Mr. Datchett asked in a low voice.
“If your mama does.” Alicia’s mother would not care where she went as long as she was respectably chaperoned.
“Ah,” he said with an air of enlightenment. “Well, I daresay it will not be so very bad, then. Sophie!” He raised his voice to address his sister. “You have not been at Greenwich, have you? It is a charming place. You are certain to enjoy it no end, I vow.”
“We shall dine al fresco in the park,” promised Pirate with reckless abandon.
“Mama, do let us go!” cried Sophie. “I adore eating out of doors, and I have never been on a sailing ship. I should like it of all things.”
Pirate succeeded in answering Lady Datchett’s further concerns, and the invitation was accepted.
“Thank you, Pirate,” said Alicia a trifle tremulously, as he drove on.
He smiled down at her. “I like giving you a bit of fun, Allie-oh. You have always been a taking little thing.”
Misty-eyed, she beamed back at him.
He groaned. “Dammit, did I say we shall dine out of doors? I have not the least notion how to go about providing a suitable dinner.”
“I should consult your mama’s housekeeper and cook,” Alicia advised. “They will know what to do, but they will want to know how many you wish to feed.”
“I had best invite Chaz’s aunt and two cousins. He will not be pleased, but doubtless Lady Datchett will expect other female company. Besides, she might fall into a megrim or Miss Sophie throw out spots or something, and ruin everything. The excursion cannot very well be postponed, not for less than a month. One cannot count on the wind, but the tide will be just right on Monday.”
* * * *
Lady Roscoe considered an outing to Greenwich under the aegis of Lady Datchett unexceptionable for her daughter (Alicia “forgot” to mention Pirate and the Buccaneering aspect).
No one threw out spots. No one fell into a megrim.
The tide was just right, with a breeze to help the yacht down-river on the ebb, a breeze which kindly dropped when they went ashore at Greenwich. The sun shone. Lord Orford’s household provided a magnificent repast, and two footmen to serve it. The party rambled about the park and the splendid buildings of the Hospital, then the breeze rose again in time to waft them homeward on the flood tide.
To Alicia, it seemed that the whole world had conspired to give her a perfect day.
Pirate drove her home from London Bridge. At her uncle’s door, she jumped down from the gig and turned to thank him one more time.
He held up his hand, laughing. “Not another word, Allie. We all had a jolly time. Do you go to the Devonshires’ ball tomorrow?”
“Yes. Mama says it is always the most splendid of the Season. She would not miss it for the world.”
“I shall see you there, then.”
He saluted with his whip and drove off, leaving Alicia to take herself inside. In spite of dancing with her at dozens of balls, he still had not quite grasped that she was a young lady now, not the child he had known forever.
Not that Alicia minded. Other escorts might hand her carefully down from their carriages, accompany her to the front door, knock for her, and see her safely bestowed within before leaving. Pirate was in another class altogether.
A footman admitted her, then her uncle’s butler came into the entrance hall to inform her that her father wished to speak to her. “His lordship is in the drawing room, miss.”
Drawing off her gloves as she made her way upstairs, Alicia wondered if Papa had somehow discovered her omission as to the nature of today’s outing. But she did not think that would vex him much, though Mama might scold. After all, her father had enjoyed the voyage to Falmouth.
Still, she could not recall when last he had sent for her. A trifle apprehensive, she entered the drawing room.
“Papa, you wished to see me?”
“Alicia, my dear!” He strode to her with arms outspread and embraced her jubilantly. “You have contrived magnificently. All is arranged, every last detail, and signed, too, and I must say he has come down handsomely.”
“What is arranged, sir?” she asked, perplexed. “What have I contrived?”
“Why, to find a husband, child,” said her mother, kissing her cheek. “He has been closeted with your papa half the day, determining settlements and such.”
But Alicia had been with Pirate all day! A flicker of hope arose--Had Lord Orford come on his son’s behalf? No, Pirate would surely have said something.
“Wh-who?” she stammered.
“Lord Ransome, my dear. A splendid match, and one which will save us all from the poorhouse.”
“Ransome?” Alicia said, cold tremors quivering up and down her spine. “But I am not acquainted with a Lord Ransome!”
London 1794
Alicia was in no state to appreciate the magnificence of Devonshire House, one of the few great mansions remaining between the Cities of London and Westminster. She spared no thought for the curious receiving line: His Grace the Duke of Devonshire; his vivaceous wife Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire; and her dear friend, his mistress, Lady Elizabeth Foster--an outwardly amicable m‚nage … trois.
It was all Alicia could do to force a smile and murmur the requisite politenesses as she curtsied.
Pirate was on the look-out for her, fortunately, for she did not think she could bear the chit-chat of friends and acquaintances. After making his bow to her mother, he turned to Alicia.
“May I beg the pleasure of the next dance, Miss Roscoe?” His smile faded to concern as he observed her expression. “Allie, what is the...?”
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Pendragon,” Alicia interrupted. Seeing her mother turn away to speak to someone--as always, her father had headed directly for the card room--she went on in an urgent undertone, “Pirate, may we sit out the dance? I simply must talk to you!”
“We shall walk in the garden,” he said promptly, offering his arm and placing his hand over hers in a comforting clasp. “It has been decorated with Chinese lanterns, I am told, and is worth viewing.”
In the midst of the spreading streets and squares of Mayfair, the Cavendish family had preserved not only Devonshire House but a spacious garden. Now the trees were hung with coloured paper lanterns, glowing in the dusk. The air was scented with stocks and lilac and lily-of-the-valley. Quite a few guests had gone outside to stroll about before the May night grew chilly, so there was no impropriety in Alicia’s accepting Pirate’s escort.
Not that she cared. She hurried him to a marble bench well away from the main paths.
“I am to be married,” she said in a tragic voice.
“What?” He stared at her in dismay. “Dash it, Allie, I’m going to marry you!”
Hope dawned. “Are you?” she asked shyly.
“Of course. Only not quite yet...”
“Papa cannot wait, Pirate. He is horridly in debt. He will have to sell the estate if he cannot come about soon.”
“No, is it as bad as that?” said Pirate, aghast.
“Yes. So I must be married and then there will be something called settlements, which I do not
perfectly understand, and everyone will be comfortable again.”
“Except you! But Allie, all I have is an allowance from my father. Though it is quite enough to support you, if we lived with my family, as they would expect, I cannot possibly tow your father from the River Tick.”
“Lord Ransome can,” Alicia said sadly, “and will, when I marry him.”
“Ransome? Good gad, Allie, he is twice your age, if not three times. Practically a greybeard! I did not know you were even acquainted with the fellow. Do you like him?”
“I scarcely know him. He does not dance. He told Papa he had watched me often and talked to me once or twice, but I had no recollection of him when he dined with us last night. He believes I shall suit him.”
“But will he suit you?” cried Pirate, scowling. “And where, may I enquire, is this ardent suitor tonight? Not escorting you!”
“No, and as he could not be here, Papa did not wish us to come, but Mama refused to miss the Devonshires’ ball. Lord Ransome has gone into Lincolnshire for ten days to see to setting his house in order for our marriage. It...it is to be within the month.” Alicia stared down at her clenched hands, blinking back stinging tears.
“Demme if it ain’t just like selling you into slavery! Tell them you will not.”
“Papa and Mama and Rupert all say it is my duty to the family. I ought to be glad to have caught a viscount, for Papa can marry me to whomever he chooses.”
“I daresay,” Pirate said disconsolately, “and he would not choose me, if I asked permission to address you, because he is bound to realize that my father would not...I say, Allie-oh, I have the most famous notion!”
Breathless as hope burgeoned again, she looked up at his elated face. “I knew you would think of a way to save me,” she whispered.
“We shall elope to Gretna Green and be married over the anvil,” Pirate proclaimed. “What a splendid jape!”
“But...”
“Hush a minute, let me think. Yes, I have it. Now listen, Allie-oh, and do not interrupt.”
* * * *
They returned to the ballroom, where Alicia stood up for the next two sets with the first two gentlemen to ask her. She did her best to look wan and listless, though she was bubbling with excitement. When her second partner returned her to her mother’s side--no easy task as Lady Roscoe also danced nearly every set-- Alicia begged to go home.
“I have the headache, Mama. Truly, I cannot endure any more of this noise and bustle.”
Lady Roscoe was irritated but not surprised, since her daughter was ridiculously moped over her betrothal and imminent wedding.
“How tiresome!” she said. “Well, I cannot leave now. I have promised several dances. You will just have to...Ah, there is the Pendragon boy. Perhaps I can prevail upon him to escort you. Mr. Pendragon!”
“Ma’am.” Pirate bowed over her hand. “I came to ask how Miss Roscoe does. She was not feeling quite the thing earlier, I believe. How do you go on, ma’am?” he enquired, turning to Alicia with a wink.
“She is most unwell,” said Lady Roscoe. “She could go home in a chair but I cannot very well send her alone through the streets.”
“Allow me to accompany her, ma’am. I shall summon a chair and walk beside to see her safely home.”
Her ladyship was all gracious gratitude.
As the chairmen carried her through the dark city, Alicia pulled back the curtain and said to Pirate, “Mama always stays until the very last.”
“You are sure she will not come to your chamber to see how you feel?”
“She never has. And her abigail--I have none of my own--will be only too pleased when I tell her I mean to sleep late in the morning, as Mama does.”
“Capital! You are sure you can sneak out without being seen, Allie?”
Assuring him that she could escape unseen, she promised not to bring more baggage than a pair of bandboxes, and not to keep him waiting. He went off to pack some clean linen for himself and to fetch his gig.
No one would wonder if he said he was going to stay with a friend for a few days, or even ask exactly where he was going. Alicia envied his freedom. There was certain to be a tremendous hullaballoo when her disappearance was discovered.
Muttering at having her evening interrupted, the abigail helped Alicia take off her ball gown, hung it up, and was dismissed.
Instead of going to bed, Alicia arranged a bolster under the covers, then stuffed a shawl into her nightcap and arranged it on the pillow. As Pirate had instructed, she wrote a brief note, which she hid underneath a book on her bedside table. Then she put on her simplest dress and a warm cloak, packed up several changes of linen, and crept downstairs to the back door.
She heard her uncle’s servants talking in the kitchen, and a murmur of voices came from the housekeeper’s room, but she saw not a soul. The key was kept hanging on a hook beside the door. Lock and bolts were well oiled. In a trice Alicia was out in the garden.
The tiny square of grass, which rarely saw the sun, had horrified her when first she came to London from the valleys and moors of Cornwall. Now she was glad it took only a few paces to cross it to the door in the wall which led into the mews. The key was kept conveniently on a hook here, too, but in the dark she could not find its hiding place beneath the curtain of Virginia creeper.
She fumbled frantically. Suppose Pirate grew tired of waiting for her and went away! He might decide he did not want to elope with her after all, and then she would have to marry Lord...
Ah, there was the key. Hard to turn, it grated in the lock. The noise seemed to Alicia excruciatingly loud, and the screech of the hinges was louder yet. But no one called out to her, no one ran down the garden after her. She slipped out into the lantern-lit mews.
The grooms were all snoozing as they waited for the carriages to return after bearing their masters and mistresses to and from balls and routs, to clubs or the play. Unseen by any but a tabby cat crouched by a mousehole, which stared at her with yellow eyes, Alicia hurried along the alley to the street corner. A church clock began to strike the half hour, with others joining in, near and far. She was right on time.
And as she rounded the corner, a gig drew up.
“That is all you have brought?” asked Pirate, reaching down for her bag and stowing it under the seat. “Good girl! My sisters never travel with less than a pair of trunks. Hop up now, and let us be off.”
As a loverlike greeting, a stern critic might have felt this left something to be desired. Alicia was satisfied with his praise, and still more with his presence. She took his outreached hand and hopped up.
On the Road to Gretna 1794
“This reminds me of running away from Miss Porringe to ride up on the moors with you,” Alicia said, as the gig rattled away over the cobbles.
“Lord, yes, what times we used to have!”
Reminiscences kept them going for several miles. The city was left behind, and a bright half-moon lit their way along the turnpike. From recalling their adventures in the dinghy, Pirate moved on to the sloop his naval friend had shown him over. He was in the middle of describing its wonders when they came to a post-house.
“We shall hire a post-chaise here,” said Pirate. “I could drive another stage, but you will be more comfortable, especially if it comes on to rain, and we shall go along faster. Not that we are likely to be pursued.”
Enjoying the moonlight drive, Alicia had almost managed to forget about pursuit. She glanced back fearfully. “I am perfectly comfortable, but by all means let us go as fast as possible.”
He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “No one will guess that you are with me, nor where we have gone.” He laughed as he turned into the inn yard. “They will look for you on the road to Plymouth. You did leave a note to that effect, did you not?”
“Yes, just as you told me, only I doubt they will believe it. After all, going home could not save me from Lord Ransome. Papa would simply fetch me back to London.”
“I think he will think that you think...oh, this is altogether too convoluted for me! At the very least, it will delay them.”
A groom ran to the horse’s head, and a waiter hurried out of the inn. Ordering one to call a postboy and put a team to a post-chaise, the other to bring a dish of tea for the lady and ale for himself, Pirate sprang down from the gig.
As Alicia wearily prepared to clamber to the ground, he came around and lifted her down, his hands about her waist. How strong he was!
“What a little bitty creature you are.” He kept his hold on her for a moment after her feet touched the cobbles, smiling down at her. “Light as a feather. You will feel better after a cup of tea.”
His touch, his solicitude, and the tea revived her somewhat, driving off the chilly fears of the small hours of the morning. However, she had slept little the night before, after learning she was to marry Lord Ransome. In spite of the chaise’s jouncing, she dozed off. Though distantly aware of a change of horses in the grey dawn, she did not wake fully until a sunbeam struck her face. She found herself reclining upon Pirate’s chest.
“Oh!” Quickly she sat up, trying to smooth her hair. “I am so sorry.”
“You kept me warm,” he said with a grin. “I believe I am going to enjoy being married.”
“I shall try to be a good wife, Pirate, truly.”
“The first thing you must learn is that gentlemen appreciate a hearty breakfast. At the next stage, we shall stop long enough to fortify ourselves.”
After a good meal, they drove on, talking about how different the countryside was from Cornwall. They agreed that they would prefer to take up residence in Cornwall rather than at any of Lord Orford’s other estates. Time passed quickly as the miles disappeared beneath the wheels, and postilion succeeded postilion.
That evening, as darkness fell, they stopped to sup at an inn, and Pirate took two bedchambers. Though nights were short at this time of year, he told the chambermaid to rouse them at dawn.
Alicia slept soundly, if only for a few hours. In the morning she felt quite refreshed. When Pirate proposed that they should drive on through the next night, she was perfectly willing.