The Queen's Captain

by Margaret Hope

  "Lacking—in what way, sir?"

  "In the famous instinct for matters of the heart which are claimed by all womankind." He paused. "You cannot guess?"

  She shook her head. "I cannot, sir, truly."

  "Then I will tell you. Bess, kind sweet Bess, be happy for your Captain. At last his life is to be made complete." He watched her, head on side. "And still you do not know?"

  With a heart heavy as iron she remembered the old servant's words. "Mistress Pyck mentioned that you were to be married - is that your news, sir?"

  He laughed. "It is indeed. Tomorrow I am to be wed to the dearest lass in all the world."

  "Tomorrow, sir?" she whispered. Mistress Pyck had told her Michaelmas.

  "Ay, tomorrow—here at Millefleur, for I have put an end to that odious marriage-contract of which we spoke earlier. And tomorrow I marry to my heart's desire, come what may."

  "Who is—?" she began, knowing the answer would be Madeleine.

  He held up a hand. "Nay, Bess, no more questions, for there is much I have to do before tomorrow. I must sleep, and we must see where we can find you a pretty gown." He clasped her hands. "Look not so solemn, Bess. Are you not happy for me?"

  "Ay, sir," she said, though she felt her very heart was breaking. "Ay, sir."

  "Then smile and be glad for me. For tomorrow at midday, you shall see my chosen bride."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  If Beth wept most of that night, then she bathed her eyes carefully when she arose next morning, so that no vestige of sorrow remained. This was Captain James Danyell's wedding day and neither he nor Madeleine must be allowed to observe her grief.

  She prepared to face the future with calm and fortitude, determined to push out of her mind for ever that her present unhappiness was due to the irony of fate, which had thrown her to the very man she wished to escape and had then separated her from him forever. She had learned too late to love him. Deception, folly, these were her faults not his, and she would be truly glad that he had found happiness after many years of loneliness and sorrow.

  She told herself that she would become accustomed to this ache in her heart and that she could keep it in check. Without encouragement it would wither and die. Without words and looks of love to fan its flame, no great passion could be kept alive and thriving through the passing years. She told herself it was but as a toothache or any pain of loss, severe only at the beginning until the senses learned to live with it.

  Time would be the healer, and as she expected her future at Millefleur to be busy, serving her new mistress, she would make a speedier recovery by keeping a firm rein upon the delicious day dreams which were her weakness. By concentrating on the needs of the newly-married couple, she might channel her unfulfilled love for James Danyell into a deeper emotion, by turning Millefleur into a comfortable home of which he could be proud, for if he were happy here, surely he would not wish to spend so much time away on the Sea Queen. Madeleine too, if she made him happy; then she, Beth, made a vow to serve her also with love and devotion.

  She prayed for comfort and strength to endure the hours ahead, and by the time she heard the first of the wedding guests ride in from the Dover Road, she was reasonably composed and resolute of purpose.

  She had opened the door of her bedchamber to descend to the kitchen and see what help was needed by the harassed Mistress Pyck, when she heard a light step upon the stairs and stepping back into the shadows saw that James had also opened his door. He waited to greet the girl who ran upstairs and into his outstretched arms.

  "Good morrow, dear James."

  "Good morrow, dearest Madeleine."

  Beth observed that Madeleine was more beautiful than the miniature or that first glimpse in the churchyard at Folkestone had suggested. True, she was not a girl -perhaps over thirty. She wore a plain black gown but Beth did not doubt that she would change out of mourning and into colour for the wedding ceremony.

  The embrace was painful to witness, and she hoped that by retiring quietly she might escape their attention, but as they turned they saw her. Still holding the Captain's hand, Madeleine ran swiftly to her side.

  "So your cabin boy was a girl after all, James," she said laughing. "You must be Master Perkins—or is it Bess?"

  "I think it is Bess now, Mistress," she said curtseying to the lady James introduced as Mistress Browne.

  Madeleine took both her hands and stood back, examining her appearance. "You are far too pretty to be a boy -I would not have been deceived for an instant, nor I think would many women, Mistress Pyck apart." She laughed. "I cannot bear to think of what you have endured upon that vile ship of his. James, I am ashamed of you, tormenting this delicate and gentle creature."

  "Captain, sir—Mistress Browne—" Mistress Pyck bustled along the corridor, wringing her hands. "If you please, sir, there are more guests arrived. They are walking across the lawns from the barge this very instant."

  "Go you down, James," said Madeleine, "I will be with you presently, when I have helped Mistress Bess to a gown."

  When the door closed, Madeleine opened the closet and pointing to the pretty gowns hanging there, said: "Choose whichever you will."

  When Beth hesitated, she said, "They are mine," and running a hand across them, she sighed. "Such extravagance! I have lived here at Millefleur from time to time while the house at Folkestone was being repaired and altered. It is very old, once a Cistercian Abbey, although the abbey itself was destroyed by the Queen's father. During the past two years, I have-had more use for grand gowns here, since we are neighbours to the Queen." She smiled. "James has done me the honour of escorting me to his audiences with Her Majesty."

  How boldly and unashamedly she admitted her association with the Captain, thought Beth. Presumably it was open gossip at Court, and that was where Madeleine had met Sir Francis Drake who had referred to her with affectionate respect. And Beth had heard tales in plenty about the dissolute behaviour at Court, where there were even whispers about the Virgin Queen herself.

  "When I am out of mourning, I shall wear them again. My son Jem," said Madeleine, sighing.

  "My sincere condolences upon your loss, Mistress Browne."

  "So James has told you." Her face was woebegone, then she made an effort to smile. "But we will not talk of sad unhappy things today. Tell me now, what is your choice?"

  Beth touched the white velvet gown. "This, if you please, Mistress Browne."

  "You are not to call me Mistress Browne, for I am Madeleine to those who are my friends."

  Beth bowed her head, unable to imagine herself as servant so addressing the mistress of Millefleur.

  "Strange you should choose this gown, for it is James' favourite."

  Beth took her hand away as if it burned. "Then I shall choose another."

  "Nay, Bess, he said you were to have whichever you wanted. Wear it." She smiled. "Your choice will please him."

  A few moments later they stood together, considering her reflection in the long mirror in James' bedchamber. Beth sighed. It was too grand by far, she could not possibly wear such a gown. She began to unlace the bodice, shaking her head.

  "What do you now?" asked Madeleine in alarm. "Does the gown offend you?"

  "Nay, it is beautiful indeed. But this is not suitable raiment for a servant, and I should be at this moment waiting upon the Captain's guests, for Mistress Pyck will need help."

  Madeleine shook her head. "She will not, for this day I brought with me my own servants from Folkestone. Besides, there are but twenty guests, personal friends of James and myself. They will be leaving directly the wedding breakfast is over. It is James' express wish that this be a quiet wedding—after all, this is not his first time as bridegroom."

  Or Madeleine's as bride, thought Beth, considering the black gown. A bride in mourning, too. For a moment she wondered at the relationship. The boy Jem had been Madeleine's son—could he possibly have also been James'?

  "Come, I hear James approaching." Swiftly Madeleine led th
e way back into Beth's bedchamber, and a moment later the door opened and James entered.

  Beth's heart beat faster despite her stern command that she was to be resolute and unmoved. Despite her promises to herself, the sight of Captain James Danyell filled her with such yearning, such an intolerable ache. She closed her eyes in pain, dreading the immediate wedding ceremony—and beyond it. She thought of them lying naked together in the great canopied bed, while she lay sleepless in her own bedchamber. The images of love—no, no—

  And since Madeleine would have her own maids to attend her, Beth decided to ask to be removed to one of the cottages beside Mistress Pyck. And that as soon as possible.

  "The minister has arrived," said James.

  Madeleine smiled. "I am almost ready, dearest. I have but to complete my toilet."

  Beth curtseyed. "I will leave you then, Mistress."

  "Nay." Madeleine put a hand on her arm. "I shall leave you, for I believe James wishes to have speech with you on certain matters. I have but her bonnet to arrange," she said to him.

  He held out his hand. "I will attend to her bonnet."

  And as the door closed upon Madeleine, he led her back into his bedchamber, and taking Madeleine's place behind her at the mirror, he set the bonnet on her curls.

  "Have I not skill in such matters?" he asked smiling, considering their reflection. "Do we not make a handsome pair?"

  Beth stood, eyes down, trembling hands clasped tightly together.

  "I am glad you chose the Queen's colour. Before God, you are beautiful in that gown. Look at me—"

  It was almost painful to obey, to see him smiling at her. "And what think you of my bride?" he asked.

  "She is beautiful."

  His reflection did not move. "She does not disappoint you in any way?"

  "Nay, sir."

  He frowned. "You are certain? Come, think now, for there is little time and I must know the truth, for Master Perkins has become my confidant and friend. I should not like to make an error in judgement at this late hour. Think hard, what would you add to my bride that as a mere man, I might have overlooked."

  "There is nothing I would add. The lady is gentle -and beautiful."

  He smiled. "I trust you are right, for we must shortly appear before the minister downstairs and before our friends to be made man and wife."

  She closed her eyes. "Will you be staying at Millefleur afterwards, sir?"

  "Ay, Bess, we will." He turned her to face him, holding her hands, studying them. "Only the Pycks will remain with us." He regarded her smiling now, his eyes glittering like a man in wine-haze. "I would be alone with my bride," he said softly. "Think you that is reasonable?"

  Her throat was so constricted that she could barely murmur, "Ay, sir, it is." She pulled her hands out of his grasp. "I will arrange for a place in the cottages, and there take on my duties as servant forthwith. If you will explain to Mistress Pyck, sir, I will be most obliged to you."

  He laughed. "Mistress Pyck has been told of your deception. And that it was necessary. I assure you she has a romantic heart under her stern visage." , Beth looked at him hard. At any other time she would have been prepared to question such a statement. In any case, whatever Mistress Pyck's reaction to the Captain's announcement, she felt that the cabin boy who turned into a girl would have a mean and miserable existence in the Pyck regime.

  "I will leave immediately with her, then, if that is your wish."

  The Captain shook his head. "Nay, Bess, that is not my wish. My wish is that you are to remain here in Millefleur—at my side."

  "But, sir, I—I cannot—" She stopped, betraying tears welling into her eyes.

  "Come, Bess," he said sternly, "only last night you told me you would be happy so to remain at Millefleur, by my side."

  Oh, God, this was cruel, cruel and unnecessary, she thought. Why did he so torment her? She could not bear it, not a moment more. She hated him, yes, hated him, for making her love him so.

  "You do not answer, Bess. Have you changed your mind, then?" He looked disappointed, sounded hurt by her rejection. Immediately she forgave him, for in all truth, she told herself, James Danyell would have been the most surprised man in the whole of England at that moment, had he known she loved him.

  "Come, Bess, have you changed your mind?" he repeated.

  "I—do not—know." And the tears tumbled unchecked down her cheeks.

  He gave a great sigh and the next instant she was gathered into his arms, held close. He was kissing her, holding her to him as though he would never let her go again. For a moment, the comfort and ecstasy of those kisses was a tiny paradise in which she could forget all but her desperate need of him. He was calling her his dearest love. At such a time, suppose the door opened and Madeleine entered—

  "Beth—my dear heart."

  She pulled away from him. "You called me—Beth."

  "Ay, that is your name. Beth Howard. Is it not?"

  "I suppose Will Robb told you," she said, angry again.

  "He did not mean to, but he is a simple lad and easily led, despite his ambitions. But there were some remarkable coincidences, since you had been childhood companions and his mother had served the Howards."

  So the Captain was being kind to her, because she had suffered. He had learned of her sad past at Craighall and had taken pity upon her—

  Again he kissed her, whispered: "Your kisses say you love me as I love thee. Tell me with your lips, my sweet—tell me—"

  "As it seems you know already, what difference do my words make?" She was surprised by her coldness as she stood back from him, trembling hands primly clasped before her.

  "Difference? What is this talk of difference?"

  She stood a fraction taller. As Ben Perkins then as Bess Norman, she had endured much hardship. As Beth Howard she still had her pride. She would beg for no man's love, not even this most beloved of all men in the whole world. Nay, although body and soul would yearn for his warm arms, his tender kisses, for the rest of her life.

  "How many—mistresses—would you have at Millefleur at the one time, sir?"

  "But one, dearest," he whispered. "And that for ever."

  "Then you have her already." How calm her voice, detached from the agony inside her as if it did not belong in the same tortured body. Although her lips trembled, she would not weaken at his nearness. Although her eyes burned bright with unshed tears, not one would she let fall again in his presence.

  "Nay, my love—not yet, not yet," he said wistfully. As he made to draw her into his arms once more, she coolly twisted away from him.

  "Then, sir, please do not expect me to provide such comforts as befits a mistress for her lover, within the very hour of your marriage." And turning on her heel she made to walk with slow and even dignity from the room, to shut away the sight of this audacious vain monster, who it seemed was concealed inside her beloved Captain's handsome exterior.

  "Beth—dear heart—wait." His piteous cry, his hollow voice, smote her heart. "Then you do not—you do not love me?"

  She looked back at him, saw his stricken face as though the loss of her love had thrust a dozen years of heavy sadness upon him, dousing the spark of bright youth and tarnishing her golden Captain into weary middle age. She yearned to fly back into his arms. Her senses cried: What did it matter who he married, if he loved her? But pride and cold reason said:

  "Before God, sir, this is such cruelty as I would not have thought you were capable of—"

  "I—cruel to you? My dear heart—I say I love thee. How so am I cruel to you?"

  "You know full well how so, Captain Danyell. Swearing love for me—holding me as a lover—when you are to be wed—"

  He came forward, seized her unwilling hands. "Ay, Beth. I am indeed to be wed within the hour."

  "There now," she interrupted triumphantly. "You have admitted it. You, are a monster." And the tears so long held in check tumbled out, rolling down her cheeks, tickling her nose.

  "Please do not cry—dea
rest—"

  "And why—should I—not? You treat me like—a harlot—"

  "I do not." His voice indignant, he scowled at her. "I apologise for that night. You are right to reprimand me, but I had taken too much wine. My senses had fled, you were very desirable. I am only a man. Besides," he reminded her gently, "you were provocative, you did entice me—"

  "I did not!"

  "Then kiss me as you did then."

  "I will not. If Mistress Madeleine should walk in -what would she think?"

  He laughed. "That it was how she expected us to be employed."

  "She would expect such behaviour?" Beth was horrified. If James Danyell were a monster, then what kind of woman was his betrothed? "She would expect to find you dallying with the serving wench while your guests gathered downstairs to witness your marriage to her?"

  "To—Madeleine? You believe that I wish to wed Madeleine?"

  "Whether you wish it or not is your concern, sir, but clearly it is your intention—"

  "Wed—to Madeleine. Before God—" He threw back his head, choking with laughter, clinging to the bedpost for support. "My dearest child, Madeleine is my stepsister, happily married these many years. I thought Mistress Pyck would have told you."

  "She did not."

  "Did you not ask her? The clothes—Madeleine's possessions. Were you not curious?" When she did not reply, he looked at her with compassion. "Oh my silly dear one, I have made you suffer all unknowing. Forgive me—forgive me. Madeleine has a husband, well-beloved indeed; he is in Ireland with the Queen's troops. Jem, their eldest lad, was my cabin boy. Him we buried in Folkestone." His face clouded. "But let us not speak of that sorrow."

  He drew her into his arms. "Sweet Beth, do you not yet understand—it is thy dear self I intend to wed. For I knew I loved thee that night I discovered my cabin boy was a girl. I have been wild with love ever since, and wilder still with delight when I came upon Bess Norman sitting pensive and alone in the garden and fancied I saw the ghost of that small exquisite girl I had seen at Hythe. I knew then that Bess Norman and Beth Howard were one and the same—and my intended bride."