Next day, after helping Master Pyck restore some semblance of order to the wild garden and finding him even less talkative about the Captain than his wife, especially since he was also handicapped by deaf-Bess, Beth took the supper prepared for her in the kitchen, her arms and back aching with the vigorous gardening.
She sighed with relief when the old couple departed to their cottage, locking the kitchen door behind them. Carrying a pail of water up to her bedchamber she enjoyed the luxury of a long cool wash, and shedding Master Perkins with the cambric shirt and breeches, she became Mistress Beth Howard once more. Her secret identity was now such delight, and donning saffron kirtle and white coif, hiding the still boyish chestnut curls, she examined her reflection with satisfaction.
It was good to be a girl again, safe enough in the evening when she was alone in Millefleur and she pirouetted across the room singing to herself, indulging in the pleasant day-dream of meeting the Captain, perhaps in the garden—walking towards him in the white velvet gown—seeing his face change, frowning bewilderment turning to delight, as he held out his arms to her—
She did not hear footsteps outside the door.
On the threshold was a tall familiar figure, swaying slightly. A voice, surprised: "Madeleine? When did you arrive? I did not expect you so soon."
Beth's back against the window presented a silhouette against the darkening sky. The room was thick with evening shadows between herself and James Danyell.
But there was no escape, for he stood between her and the door.
"Before God, it is good to see you again, my dear."
And before she could focus her numbed mind and limbs into action, he was across the room in rapid strides. With an arm about her shoulders, he kissed her hastily turned cheek.
But that kiss was her undoing. Reckless but content, she put her arms about his neck. Their lips met.
"Madeleine?" She saw shocked surprise as he held her away from him.
Then her passion, her body pressed close, aroused him. He laughed, a deep sound, excited but triumphant with wine and desire. His arms tightened around her.
"Beautiful lady, who the devil are you?"
As his mouth pressed open her lips, the urgency of his body hard against her found its answer beyond the clinging garments she wore. She felt deep inside the core of her body open for him and went slack in his arms…
"Lady, I must have you," he whispered, and carried her unprotesting to the bed. Her lips thrust apart by his exploring mouth, his hands unlaced her bodice, groping warm and strong upon her breasts. Contentedly she moaned as his hands moved again down her thighs, and eagerly now she sought to help him.
Aware that he no longer touched her flesh, she opened her eyes fearfully. Was she to be disappointed, to find that the dream was over and that James Danyell had vanished?
But this time James Danyell had not vanished. Holding the white coif that had hidden her hair, he was staring in horrified disbelief at her half-naked body, the woman's breasts rosy-nippled, and above them the familiar head and bright chestnut curls of Ben Perkins.
As Beth sat up, dragging a sheet over her nakedness, James Danyell's frame began to shake, not with lover's passion but with unseemly merriment.
"Master Perkins—Before God, I was a fool not to suspect!"
"And so," said the Captain, eyeing her sternly, "my cabin boy turns out to be a wench—"
Beyond the bedchamber window, the sunset sky gleamed in a glory of purple and rose. Millefleur was no fevered dream but a frightening reality, Beth realised, as she sat opposite the Captain with her bodice neatly fastened, her skirts smooth and ordered, her hands sedately folded in her lap. She lacked only the white coif from the chestnut curls which had betrayed her.
All suggestions of the romantic encounter a few minutes earlier had vanished from the bedchamber as if it had been a dream, Beth thought, longing to escape from this fearful situation, so beset with embarrassment.
As for the Captain, his face was stern and solemn. The events of late had distinctly sobered him.
"You might begin by telling me your name."
"Bess," she said, "Bess—Norman," giving he mother's maiden name.
"Very well, Mistress Norman, I think I should like to hear your tale of woe from the very beginning. Perhaps we should fortify ourselves with a goblet of wine."
"Ay, sir—thank you."
Her brief return to Master Perkins brought a glimmer of amusement to his face as he poured the wine.
"And now—"
She shook her head. "I fear there is little to tell."
"I am waiting."
She took a deep breath. "I did run away because I was cruelly treated in Hythe."
"Was Master Perkins' tale then true?"
"Most of it."
He nodded. "Ay, that you were orphaned and unhappy — that follows. But I cannot believe that you were a mere servant. That surely was false?" When she did not answer he asked: "What was it that you were running from?"
"Marriage, sir."
"An arranged marriage, I presume?"
"Ay, sir. And against my inclinations."
He studied her for a moment. "But, Mistress Bess, you are a truly comely wench. Surely you would not lack suitors or a choice in the matter?"
"The man my guardians chose was not to my liking."
"How so, was he a monster?"
"Nay, sir." She looked away hastily.
"What lacked he, then?"
"He was much older, and we had not even met." How lame it sounded, she thought, avoiding his eyes. How petty to say such things to this man who was everything she now desired!
"He did not take trouble to meet you? More fool he, then - a veritable oaf, small wonder you wished to be rid of him." He sighed. "You have my sympathy, Mistress Bess. He does not sound in the least worthy of such a prize."
"You do me too much honour, sir," she whispered.
"I do but speak truth." He smiled. "As you have discovered to your cost, no doubt as Master Perkins, your Captain's worst failing was perhaps to speak his mind." Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he added: "Was your heart elsewhere bestowed?" And as the faint colour rose to her cheeks, he said triumphantly, "I recall a young man who sailed on the Ark Royal, of pleasing aspect—a messenger, was he not? What was his name?"
"Master Will Robb, sir."
He nodded eagerly. "The same. I also recall that my cabin boy seemed remarkably interested in this young man, whom he claimed was a childhood companion from Hythe."
"Ay, sir." Beth looked away from his searching gaze.
"Interested, I may add, to the extent of risking my extreme displeasure by deserting his post to attend this Master Robb."
"We were—are—old friends, sir."
"Is he also your lover, Mistress Bess?" he asked quietly.
"Nay, sir," she said hotly. "I have no lover. Master Robb is but a trusted friend. I had none other to turn to. I thought he might rescue me from—from—"
"From the Sea Queen and her diabolic Captain, I suppose?" he supplied. "But let us talk of this arranged marriage, the cause of all your misfortunes. Was it imminent?"
"Ay, sir, within the week."
"And so you took flight—and landed upon the deck of my ship. A cruel trick of fate, indeed." He paused. "A mere child, a frail girl, yet you endured so much. First the fireships, then the Battle of Gravelines."
"I shall have much to tell my grandchildren, sir, as you said I should." She smiled.
"As a boy I thought of you as brave—but to think of you enduring so much that it is never woman's lot to suffer! May I apologise for inflicting many discomforts—as well as dangers—upon you?"
"You may, sir, but it is not necessary. For I learned much about courage and suffering—"
"But not such suffering as an arranged marriage, perhaps?" When she did not answer, he continued: "They are the very devil, Mistress Bess. You have indeed my whole sympathy, since I am also the unwilling victim of such a marriage."
&
nbsp; And Beth thought of his untold love for Madeleine as each looked deeply into the other's eyes, the gentle hazel and the violets of a rain-drenched wood. Slowly he took her hands, cool and slim, into the strong warmth of his own.
"Then there is no better to be made of it, is there? I am assured on the best authority that such marriages oft fare better than those which are heart-chosen." With a sigh, he continued: "You cannot help me solve my problem, Mistress Bess, but if you wish you may remain here at Millefleur to assist Mistress Pyck, until such time as your fortunes change and —" he paused, smiling "- your companion from Hythe comes to claim you."
Her heart was touched by his generosity. "I would be grateful for a position, sir."
" 'Tis I who am indebted to you," he said softly, looking at her hands which he still held. Soft and white, they did not belong to a serving wench. "I apologise for having put you to such torments aboard my ship—and then in my own house." He stopped, cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed by the memory. "I fear I had imbibed too much wine. Reminiscences are thirsty matters between returning marine's with a great victory to celebrate—"
" 'Twas not your fault," she said hastily, "I mean—I did deceive you—"
"Then all is forgiven between us," he said eagerly, and she watched the slow sweet smile grow. "Then perhaps I have a plan by which your own fortunes may be led to your heart's desire—"
Beth smiled sadly, knowing that her heart's desire would be for him to stretch out his arms and enfold her, to call her his dearest and carry her again to that great inviting bed behind them with its still rumpled pillows.
"For the present I suggest you retain the character and dress of Master Perkins. The fewer who know the truth the better. Especially Mistress Pyck, who already disapproves of my cosseting a cabin boy and hints that I give him airs above his station. Should she know that the lad is a lass, I fear both our reputations would be in hazard." Briefly his eyes raked over her and he laughed. "Though how I ever came to be so deceived, I know not nor can imagine, seeing that being a lass becomes you so much better. A very remarkable Master Perkins."
Again, head on side, he considered her, still smiling before he added:
"Would that I might have a short while with this vile man you were to marry—to tell him of your courage - your sterling qualities—"
"He is not vile, sir. I did not wish to marry him. That fault was wholly mine."
"That I do not believe. He did not woo you well enough, prove himself a loving ardent sweetheart. Foolish man, he deserved to lose you to Master Robb." He sighed, sounding regretful as he continued: "This night I dine at Deptford, but later we shall talk more of your fortunes and what might best be done to remedy them and best content yourself."
And so Beth now added shame to her other complex emotions regarding James Danyell. She had misjudged him, lied and cheated, and worst of all, her deception must go on if she remained at Millefleur, the Captain's willing servant. The idea was tempting, but knowing now how dear he had grown to her, she wondered how long she might remain content as other passing fancies, those transient mistresses whom he had mentioned, appeared and disappeared in his life. Or—the thought struck her—had all been permanently replaced by the beautiful Madeleine?
No, to stay here in this beloved house as servant was unthinkable, the pain it brought would be intolerable. When he was away - and he had warned her that his visits home were brief—she would pine for him. And should he marry Madeleine, would it not be agony to live under the same roof, remembering that strange vision, the ghost of their future she had seen? She told herself sternly that if she could not endure, then she must seek employment elsewhere. Seeing that James Danyell had influential relatives, perhaps a position could be found for her where Beth Howard's identity might be conveniently lost for ever, in one of the vast impersonal kitchens of the many noble households which abounded along this stretch of the Thames.
Late that night, sleepless, she heard him return. For a moment it seemed that his footsteps hesitated outside her door. She felt her heart beat fast, remembering that they were alone in the house until Mistress Pyck returned from her cottage next morning. What if he came in and took her by force, would she protest? And she knew that she would not, but merely yield to him gladly with not even a struggle to show maidenly virtue and pride. At that moment, she did not care if one night shared with him was all she might ever have. One night, she thought, followed by a lifetime of regret, even that she could not deny him and she pushed her burning face into the cool pillow, alert until all sound of movement in his bedchamber had ceased, and she knew that he slept.
Oh, James Danyell, to think that I should have come to this pass of loving and longing for you, she cried into the dark unyielding night.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Next morning she awoke to hear Mistress Pyck's excited voice in the corridor. As she wondered sleepily what catastrophe was afoot, her door was flung open and the Captain said:
"Be brisk, Master Perkins. A rider has arrived from Greenwich with a message that the Queen is this moment in the Royal Barge heading for Tilbury. And she plans to honour us at Millefleur with a visit—"
Mistress Pyck stood behind him wringing her hands, quivering with excitement and complaining of lack of servants, of dust and tarnished silver.
"Hush, woman," he said sternly, "it is a fine warm day and we will receive her in the garden or in the tower house here. Come, Master Perkins, you shall accompany me." Returning to his room, he returned a moment later carrying a green velvet cloak, white doublet and hose. "You must do what you can with these, for I have nothing to fit you well. However, you had best appear as my page." Above the garments, his eyes were laughing, tender.
As they walked briskly across the dew-damp lawns, Beth was too excited to say a word. To deceive Her Majesty of England into believing she was a boy—she frowned—was that an offence punishable by a stay up-river in the grim Tower of London?
The Captain sensed her unease and said: "Fear not, she will not eat you. her fancy leans towards comely lads, and she has little time for wenches. Especially pretty young wenches, like enough to remind her that her own days of youth and beauty have long since fled."
They reached the landing stage as the gilded barge came alongside. For once the canopied chair was occupied, surrounded by brilliantly arrayed courtiers, whose raiments were a spectrum of colour in satins, velvets, gold and silver, diamond and pearl.
They moved aside to reveal Elizabeth of England, who outshone them all, moth-pale in cloth of silver, heavily embroidered with precious stones, the high ruff jewel-stiffened. Beth realised that the Queen was fifty-five years old but she was still majestic in appearance, her face oval, fair, but heavily wrinkled under the paint. Her eyes were small and appeared to be black. Her nose slightly hooked, lips narrowed by age which had not, however, dimmed the magnificent auburn hair. On closer acquaintance Beth saw that her hair was in fact an elaborate jewel-encrusted wig, with a small crown perched upon it. The dress was splendid but Beth considered that her bosom was exposed to an immodest extent, showing considerably more loose white-painted flesh than any of her young maids-in-waiting.
James Danyell hurried forward to help her alight from the barge and Beth saw that the satin-clad foot was tiny, as were the beringed hands she put claw-like upon the Captain's ready arm.
"Well, Captain James Danyell, we trust we are seeing you in good health—for there has been some rumour -and doubt about it." Her voice was surprisingly deep, strong-timbered for such a small woman. She sounded like a Queen, thought Beth approvingly.
As James Danyell knelt and kissed her hand, she said: "Ah, we see you are yet wholly in one piece, my Captain." And she laughed into his face, her teeth showing black against the paint, but none the less the smile had warmth and a compelling radiance, an impish youthful quality as it stretched into a grin.
"I am fully recovered, your majesty." The Captain bowed.
"We trust your injuries were confined to so
me place where they will not keep you long from our devoted service," she continued, tapping his arm archly with a huge fan of feathers.
"I am honoured by your majesty's concern, for 'twas but a scratch I received."
"Scratches can be painful, Captain Danyell, if they are made by a tiger or by a jealous mistress." Flexing her fingers in illustration, the Queen regarded him smiling, head tilted. "We imagine you have encountered many of the latter in your lengthy bachelor state, and have developed both fast healing powers and swifter powers of evasion." She threw back her head, standing feet apart like a man, her mouth wide open laughing loudly and, thought Beth, in a manner most undignified for a queen. However, she noticed how dutifully the courtiers added their trills of merriment.
"I am glad to survive in order to serve your majesty further," said the Captain.
"That you may yet do, although we are well satisfied with the part you have already played in the defence of our realm. My lord Admiral Howard tells me that you were responsible for the preparation of the fireships, although the deed almost cost your own life. We believe you were saved by a member of your crew."
"Ay, your majesty." He turned to Beth, ignoring the frantic appeal in her eyes. "The lad here, my cabin boy, was with me in the boat, and when the oarsman was killed and I was hit, he climbed aboard the fireship to rescue me."
The Queen frowned in Beth's direction and said: "Come here, lad. What is your name?"
"Ben Perkins, an' it please your majesty," quavered Beth.
"Where are you from, Master Perkins?"
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