“Is there some difficulty, Sir Robert?” asked Mrs. Finch in a tone of genuine concern.
“No, indeed.” He looked up from the paper. “Is it my turn again?”
She nodded.
Sir Robert scanned the board, then moved his bishop to threaten her queen. Enough conservative play, waiting for her to make a mistake he could exploit. He wanted the matter settled and Mrs. Finch gone before he was bothered by any more second thoughts.
Only after he had made his move did Sir Robert recognize the weakness of his position. He hoped Mrs. Finch would be too intimidated by his threat to her queen to see it. By now he should have realized she was not the kind of woman to be easily intimidated in any situation. He tried to keep his face impassive when she ignored the threat, reaching for her knight instead.
Ivory clicked softly against ebony as she took his knight with hers. “Check.”
Jocelyn tried to keep any note of premature triumph from her voice as she removed Sir Robert’s knight from the board, the first capture of the match.
There were likely hundreds of ways he could beat her yet. Especially now that she had put him on his guard. He might be a more experienced player than she, but he would have to spare the match more than a crumb of his attention if he hoped to win.
Still it boosted her confidence to have made that first capture. Unless she was mistaken, there might be better yet to come. What would her father think if he could see how she was making use of the skills he had taught her?
She recalled those long-ago years as if seeing them through a window of golden glass. How she had reveled in the attention the marquess had lavished upon her, then! Mistaking it for love when he had only been cultivating her as an asset of potential value in his quest for dynastic power. At least Governor Kerr was forthright in his dislike of her.
Jocelyn watched with mute satisfaction as he scrutinized his position more closely before capturing her knight with his queen. His scowl told her he knew what she would do next and she did not disappoint him. Her queen took his undefended bishop. From now on, if she could simply trade him piece for piece until the end of the game, she would win. But she had learned not to underestimate Sir Robert Kerr. A pity he had not learned the same about her.
The flurry of captures brought their spectators back to hover around the table whispering to one another. Sir Robert castled kingside. Jocelyn advanced her queen’s pawn. After a moment’s deliberation, he moved his queen’s rook to defend his king on the other side. As soon as he let go of the piece, a flicker of his brow told Jocelyn he had seen his mistake but hoped she would not.
When she brought her bishop forward, he cursed under his breath. The man recognized trouble when he landed in it—she would give him that. What a shame he also imagined trouble where none existed.
A series of captures was inevitable now. All he could do was minimize the damage. His queen took her bishop. Her queen took his. Their audience broke into a spatter of applause.
Jocelyn willed her hand not to tremble as she lifted the teacup to her lips. The match was now hers to lose, but she could not hope to maintain the advantage of Sir Robert’s inattention. From now on he would be watching very closely indeed to exploit any mistake she might make. Somehow the tantalizing prospect of victory unsettled her more than the fear of defeat.
They continued to play, the governor taking his time and studying the board carefully before each move. That gave Jocelyn time to plan, as well, anticipating what his next move might be and how she could best counter it. Several strategic moves gave way to another flurry of captures that robbed the governor of a knight and three pawns in exchange for Jocelyn’s bishop and two pawns.
She sensed the moment he knew he was beaten. His moves picked up tempo once again and seemed calculated to bring the game to a swift end. He did not concede defeat, but fought on, allowing her to savor the triumph of a complete victory.
In the end, her queen alone placed him in checkmate, his king boxed into a corner.
“Bravo!” Sally squealed.
The gentlemen applauded Jocelyn’s win, some with more vigor than others. She understood why a few moments later when they exchanged small sums of money.
The governor rose and extended his hand over the chessboard. “Well played, Mrs. Finch. I hope you will allow me the opportunity to redeem myself in a rematch during your stay in Halifax.”
As they shook hands, Jocelyn lowered her voice for his ears alone while the others were discussing their wagers. “I shall be honored to play you again, sir, if that is your wish. But the outcome of this match does not impugn your skill. We both know you allowed me to win.”
He made no effort to release her hand. “For the sake of my pride, I wish I could claim that were so, but I assure you it is not. In my arrogance, I yielded you an advantage, but you had the skill and resource to capitalize upon it. You are a formidable opponent, ma’am.”
Over the years Jocelyn had received many of the usual compliments gentlemen lavished upon ladies. Tributes to her beauty, her charm, her accomplishment, even her wit. Why then did Sir Robert’s bald, grudging scrap of praise set her insides aflutter? Or was it the warmth of his hand as he clung to hers, only now letting it go?
She was done with such feelings, Jocelyn insisted to herself. And she resented the governor for provoking them, though she knew it had never been his intention.
“You have only begun to see my formidable nature, sir. I mean to prove you wrong about the bride ship—that it will be an unmixed blessing to your colony.”
“I hope you will succeed, ma’am.” He did not look by any means convinced that she would. “For the sake of the colony, I sincerely hope so.”
Chapter Five
The waters of the harbor were calm and mild fog wrapped around the Hestia when Colonel and Mrs. Carmont dropped Jocelyn off at the wharf late that afternoon.
“How can I begin to thank you for all your help?” She squeezed Sally’s hand. “If not for you, I would be headed back to England in disgrace.”
“It was a pleasure,” Sally assured her. “And most diverting to watch you get the best of Governor Kerr.”
“Now, Sally,” her husband protested, “I’ve told you before, you must not be so hard on the poor man. He may be a bit too sober for your taste, but he is an excellent fellow who has done a great deal of good for the colony.”
“For the settlers, perhaps.” Sally’s pert tone told Jocelyn she enjoyed teasing her husband. “But Halifax society has been unbearably dull since he took office. I feel certain that is about to change for the better.”
“You, my dear wife, live entirely for pleasure,” Will Carmont scolded fondly.
Sally chuckled. “That is better than living for misery, don’t you think?”
“You have me there!” The colonel patted his wife’s hand.
The good-natured domestic banter between the Carmonts brought a pang of longing to Jocelyn’s heart. It reminded her so much of the way she and Ned had carried on in the early days of their marriage.
“Why don’t you come and have a celebratory dinner at our house?” asked Sally.
“Thank you for the offer, but I had better not.” Jocelyn endeavored to sound brisk and cheerful as she nodded toward the ship, swathed in a ghostly mist. “I must waste no time telling my girls the news. They have likely been at sixes and sevens ever since I left.”
Her guess proved true. Before she could get a word out, half a dozen girls had tattled to her about the behavior of the others. Louisa looked as though she had not stopped crying the whole time Jocelyn had been away. And poor Lily looked ready to tear her hair out.
“Please, Mrs. Finch,” she begged as soon as she could get a word in, “what’s to become of us? Has it been decided yet? May we stay in Nova Scotia or will we have to leave?”
Grasping Lily’s hand, Jocelyn cried, “We can stay!”
A sweet thrill of success bubbled within her, even more potent than when she had placed Sir Robert’s king
in checkmate.
Her news provoked a torrent of questions.
“How did you convince the governor?”
“Where are we to stay?”
“Can we get off the ship now?”
That question almost caused a stampede toward the galleyway.
Jocelyn had to shout to make herself heard over the din. “Not tonight, I’m afraid!”
A deafening chorus of wails and groans filled the hold.
“Hush now!” Jocelyn covered her ears to drown out the din. “One more night aboard ship will not kill us. It is certainly better than several more weeks on a return voyage to England.”
Perhaps the girls heard an implied threat in her reminder, for a chastened hush fell over them.
Jocelyn seized the moment. “Speaking of sleep, I think we had all better get some. Tomorrow will be a busy day. The governor has offered us the use of his summer estate just outside of town.”
When some of the girls grumbled at the thought of lodging in the country, she added, “His Royal Highness, the Duke of Kent lived there for several years when he was stationed in Halifax.”
“Royal lodgings?” Lily sounded suitably impressed. “What an honor for us! And how very kind of the governor.”
Was it kind? Jocelyn wondered, even as she nodded. She had won Sir Robert’s agreement to let them stay in Nova Scotia, but she knew better than to suppose he would give her his full support. Did he hope that by settling her and her charges on the edge of town, they would be out of sight and out of mind?
What she had not told the girls about the Prince’s Lodge was that the Duke of Kent had lived there quite openly with his French mistress. The place must have a rather tainted reputation on that account. And what sort of housekeeping arrangements would they find there tomorrow? Did the governor hope to make their stay so unpleasant they would be forced to leave?
Those worries plagued Jocelyn through the night, but her spirits lifted as soon as she stepped out on deck the next morning. Golden spring sunshine had burned off the fog. Now it shimmered on the dark waters of Halifax Harbor and warmed the air to a pleasant enough temperature that she was inclined to linger outside for a look around.
For the first time since her arrival in Halifax, she took a moment to survey the town that would be her home for the next few months. Behind the solid ironstone warehouses on the docks, buildings ranged up the steep hillside in tiers that reminded Jocelyn of Bath, back in England. Though, instead of golden stone town houses, most were wooden cottages with barnlike gambrel roofs. Some were painted in bright colors while others had been left to weather to a soft gray. The bustle of ships in the harbor and the looming presence of Fort George on the summit of the hill gave the town an air of excitement, even danger.
There was a sense of suppressed excitement aboard the bride ship, too, when it cast off and sailed a few miles deeper into Bedford Basin. Jocelyn did her best to prevent the girls from swarming all over the deck and getting in the way of the crew, but it was hopeless.
“Oh, very well!” She threw up her hands at last. How could she expect them to contain their eagerness when she could scarcely curb her own? “Only don’t all crowd on one side of the deck—you’ll make the ship list. And anyone I catch pushing will be sent below!”
The last thing she needed was to fish some sodden young woman out of the frigid water. That would do nothing to dispel Sir Robert’s negative opinion of them.
Jocelyn was so busy keeping an anxious eye on her charges she hardly noticed the settlements on shore giving way from town buildings to scattered farms to trees, trees and more trees. Most were still bare of foliage but scattered evergreens lent the rural landscape a little color.
“Look!” Hetty Jenkins pointed toward a spit of land jutting out between two coves. “D’ye reckon that’s the place?”
Jocelyn shaded her eyes and peered in the direction Hetty was pointing. Nestled among a pretty grove of slender beech and birch trees stood a curious-looking building. It appeared to be circular with a domed roof. A colonnade of pillars ringed the central structure, creating a shallow cloister. Sunshine glittered off a large golden ball atop the dome. While it looked an altogether charming little place, it was far too small and in every other way unsuited for…
“Don’t be a bigger fool than you can help, carrothead!” Vita Sykes gave a snort of scornful laughter. “That’s likely just the prince’s privy. Up the hill is a house that might hold us all in a pinch.”
“As long as I don’t have to share a bed with you,” Hetty shot back before Jocelyn could intervene. “Be afraid of catching some vermin, I would.”
“I’ll box your ears for that, see if I don’t!”
Fortunately the chief troublemakers were far enough apart that neither could land a blow. Jocelyn half wished that pair would lean too far over the deck railing and tumble into the basin. She could think of several girls who would gladly give them a shove.
“That will be quite enough from both of you.” She glared at Hetty, who hung her head, then at Vita, who stared back bold as brass. “Any further such behavior and you may find yourselves toting all our luggage up to the lodge. Is that understood?”
They muttered something that might have been “Yes, ma’am.”
In Vita’s case, Jocelyn wondered if it was a choice bit of profanity. Whatever had persuaded Mrs. Beamish to give that little vixen a berth on the bride ship, Jocelyn could not guess. To test her skills as a chaperone, perhaps? If that was Vita’s purpose, she excelled at it!
Having averted a full-blown catfight on deck, Jocelyn turned her attention to the larger building Vita had pointed out in the distance. The place did look as though it might suit their needs. A pleasantly proportioned country villa, it had a pillared veranda that ran the full width of the ground floor topped by an equally wide balcony. Above that, a single large dormer jutted out from the center of the roof. It had one vast window that no doubt provided a splendid view.
The girls would have to sleep several to a room at first and eat their meals in two shifts. But as some left to get married the crowding would ease. Jocelyn imagined how pretty the grounds would look once the trees and flowers began to bloom. Why, they would rival anything on her father’s estate back in Norfolk. She stifled a pang of longing for the bright spring daffodils that grew around Breckland in such profusion.
“Drop anchor!” bellowed the captain. “Prepare the boats!”
“Vita, Eleanor.” Jocelyn pointed to several girls. “Mary Parfitt, Sophia, Charlotte and Eliza Turner, go below and fetch as much of your luggage as you can carry. You will come with me on the first boat.”
She turned to Lily. “Send the rest after us in small groups. Keep Hetty with you until the last.”
Lily cast a wistful glance at the little domed building on shore, but bobbed an obliging nod. “Anything else, Mrs. Finch?”
“That will be quite enough for the moment.” Jocelyn patted her arm. “Thank you, my dear.”
If anything, Lily deserved to be one of the first to disembark, but Jocelyn did not trust any of the others to keep order after she left. And it was necessary for her to lead their party to the lodge. While it looked an agreeable-enough place from a distance, who knew what state they might find it in?
Governor Kerr did not seem the type of man who indulged in country idylls when there were documents to sign and reports to write. Heaven only knows how long it had been since anyone occupied the place. No matter, though. If Prince’s Lodge had to be cleaned from cellar to attic, it would give her charges a useful occupation during their early days in the colony.
The first party was lowered gingerly into a boat and rowed to shore. Then the oarsmen lifted each of the passengers out onto dry ground. Vita clung to the sailor who hoisted her ashore far longer than was proper.
Jocelyn grabbed her by the arm and hauled her away. “The others would like to disembark before nightfall.” She picked up a couple of bags and thrust them into Vita’s hands. “Now make yourself
useful for a change.”
The girl’s full lower lip jutted out in a sulk as she looked around her. “Prince or no prince, it’s all a bit rustic for my taste. Too bad we couldn’t have stayed in town.”
“I shudder to think what mischief you might get up to in town.” Jocelyn hoisted one of her bags and set off across a wide, rutted road toward the gates of the estate. “Unless you start behaving with a little decorum, Miss Sykes, you will find yourself rusticating out here all summer.”
She could almost feel an invisible dagger piercing her back from Vita’s vicious glare. Pity any poor fool tempted into matrimony by Vita’s wanton ways!
They had barely gotten across the road when Jocelyn spotted a man striding down the steep, winding driveway to meet them. Had the governor put aside his everlasting papers for a few hours and ridden out from town to welcome them? She strove not to betray any sign of disappointment when she saw it was Sir Robert’s aide, Mr. Duckworth. Indeed, she told herself, she was not disappointed. After all, the young man was far more agreeable and obliging than his master.
“Welcome, ladies!” He pushed open the gate and hurried toward them. “I hope you will find the accommodations here to your satisfaction.”
“I assure you,” said Jocelyn, “provided the place is dry and the floors do not sway beneath our feet, we shall be quite contented here.”
He chuckled. “I believe I can safely promise you both those things, Mrs. Finch. But do not exert yourselves to carry so much.” He reached for one of Jocelyn’s bags. “The lane up to the lodge is quite steep. I will send a cart down to collect all your luggage as soon as it is unloaded from the ship.”
Did Mr. Duckworth enjoy being perpetually hurried and worried? Jocelyn wondered. Or had his service to a martinet like Sir Robert Kerr made him so?
Deborah Hale Page 6