“Lazy old things,” said Mrs. Howell. “They’ll lie there sunning themselves for hours on a day like this. I often envy them their leisure.”
Was she ever tempted to envy the creatures the society of so many of their own kind? Jocelyn wondered. Life on this wind-swept parcel of rock and sand must be hard and solitary. Yet Mary Howell seemed more than content in the life she had chosen.
Jocelyn could not help admiring the woman…and envying her a little.
Mr. Duckworth appeared just then, mopping his brow with his handkerchief. “The governor and I will be sore tomorrow, no doubt. But it is gratifying to see the results of one’s work so quickly. Reports and documents and meetings seem endless. Once one is done, there are several more to tackle, yet we seldom see what comes of it all.”
“Those reports and meetings will be worthwhile if Sir Robert can secure funds for boats and a lighthouse.” Jocelyn watched as several of the girls took off their shoes and walked barefoot in the sand to get a closer view of the seals. “I only wish there was something I could do to help.”
A scrap of memory suddenly reared in her mind. “Sir Robert told me he had received troublesome news from Halifax, but he did not say what it was about. Could you enlighten me, perhaps?”
When the young man hesitated, she begged him. “I am not asking you to betray a confidence or government secrets. But I owe Sir Robert a great deal and if there is anything I can do to help…”
“Well…we did hear from Colonel Carmont that there were rumblings among the council against this tour. They’re worried the governor cares more about the rest of the colony than he does about Halifax. They seem to think Halifax is the colony.”
Jocelyn nodded as she called out to the girls not to venture too close to the seals. “What a pity the governor could not have brought a few of them along on this tour. No one with a heart could fail to be moved by the sight of that graveyard or Mrs. Howell’s stories.”
Once again she found herself wishing she could find some way to help Sir Robert.
Chapter Fourteen
“Heaven help me,” Sir Robert murmured to himself as he stared at the great stack of documents awaiting his attention.
For the first time in many weeks, he was back behind his desk at Government House. The very number of papers piled upon it seemed to chide him for his neglect. For twopence, he would have lit a fire in the hearth and burned them all to cinders.
Well, perhaps not. He’d taken a holiday from his duties, but he could not abandon them altogether. He must justify Wellington’s faith in him and merit the many sacrifices his mother had made to provide him with a proper upbringing.
But even if he had to work twice as hard to get caught up, he did not regret going away. Even if the council opposed every project for which he needed funds, he would not be sorry he had lent Jocelyn Finch his support and taken her charges along on his tour of the colony.
Duckworth entered just then, appearing more than usually anxious. “Can you look through your correspondence, sir, for a report from the National School? They have had such success instructing the boys of Halifax that the headmaster is eager to begin classes for girls as well. He begs leave to meet with you at your earliest convenience to discuss the idea.”
“He can expect my full support.” Sir Robert began to rifle through the stack of documents. “Send a message saying I shall be pleased to meet with the headmaster tomorrow morning at nine.”
His acquaintance with Mrs. Finch and her charges had kindled his sympathy for the plight of girls without resources. Schooling might prove a long-term means to remedy a number of social evils. At the very least, it was a good place to start.
“I’ll see to it at once, sir.” Duckworth turned to go.
But not before his dispirited tone caught Sir Robert’s attention. “Why the long face, man? Not happy to be home after a summer gadding about?”
A weak smile barely lifted the corners of the young man’s mouth before letting them fall again. “This isn’t really my home, is it, sir?”
What the devil did that mean? “Pining for the Thames Valley, are you?”
“No, sir. Any sign of that report yet?”
“Not yet. Ah, yes, here it is.” Sir Robert began to read, then set the document aside and called to Duckworth as he tried to slip out of the room. “Get back here, and take a seat.”
Some kinds of duty might reflect no honor on his position or reputation. That did not make them any less important.
“I beg your pardon, sir? Do you wish to dictate a letter?”
“I do not.” The governor pointed toward the chair on the other side of his desk. “Take a seat and tell me what’s bothering you.”
“But, sir, we have so much work to catch up on,” Duckworth protested, but he did sit down. “The autumn session of the council will be convening soon and—”
“And I refuse to sign another document or draft another report until I find out what is weighing on your mind.” If any threat had the power to compel his aide, that one should.
Perhaps a jest would break the ice. “Trouble with a woman, is it?”
“How did you know, sir?”
The governor struggled to hide his surprise. Young Duckworth was no more the type of fellow to enjoy a high time on the town than he. “Always at the top of the list, isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t know, sir. I haven’t much experience with this sort of thing.”
“Well, neither have I, but I’m a good listener—a fellow has to be in this job. So let’s hear all about it and see what can be done.”
“Nothing can be done, sir! That’s the problem. There’s no use talking and no use thinking about it, either.” Duckworth sprang back up from the chair. “I have been thinking about it far too much, but I won’t anymore, I promise you. From now on, I shall keep my mind always upon my duties.”
Strange. Since returning from their tour, Sir Robert had been thinking much the same thing about Jocelyn Finch.
He motioned Duckworth to sit back down. “No signatures, remember? No reports. You will not have any duties to occupy your mind unless you start talking. Perhaps nothing can be done, but I believe it will do you good to get the matter off your chest just the same. You could begin by telling me her name.”
After a strained hesitation during which he remained defiantly on his feet, Duckworth muttered, “Miss Winslow, sir.”
“Do I know her?”
“Of course you do, sir!” Duckworth seemed offended by the question. “She’s one of the young ladies from the bride ship. The one Mrs. Finch relies on for everything.”
“Ah, Miss Winslow!” said the governor, pretending he had not heard correctly the first time. A capable creature. Quite attractive in a modest sort of way. He had never taken much notice of her name. “The one Mrs. Finch relies on…the way I rely on you.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. If I can provide you with as able assistance as she does Mrs. Finch, I would take it as a very great compliment indeed.”
“Of course you do.” Had he never told the young man how much he valued his able assistance? Or had he assumed it must be self-evident? “But Miss Winslow does not strike me as the sort of young lady who would cause a man problems. What’s the matter? Are you in love with her?”
“I think I might be, sir.” Duckworth blushed an alarming shade of scarlet. “I mean, I admire her a great deal and I think she’s the most beautiful young lady I’ve ever met. I’m happy whenever she’s around and miserable when she’s not. The thought of her marrying some other fellow makes me want to go drown myself in the harbor!”
The governor grimaced. “That does sound like love, I’m afraid.”
It also sounded too much like his feelings for Jocelyn Finch. He didn’t have to worry about her marrying another man, of course. But whenever she mentioned her late husband—the charming wastrel who had lured her to Gretna for an unseemly elopement, causing a bitter breach with her family—Sir Robert longed to thrash the fellow!
“Does Miss Winslow not return your feelings?”
Duckworth stared at the carpet. “I’m not certain, sir.”
“You have told her how you feel, haven’t you?”
The young man raised his head, anguish twisting his handsome features. “It isn’t always that easy, sir!”
“No.” The governor sighed. “I suppose it isn’t. Perhaps you had better explain your specific difficulty.”
“It’s like this, sir…” Duckworth sank back onto the chair as if he meant to stay this time. “I got to know Miss Winslow while we were on the tour of the colony. Often, if you had a message for Mrs. Finch and I couldn’t find her right away, Miss Winslow would be kind enough to relay it for me.”
Sir Robert nodded. “I can appreciate how the situation would have thrown the two of you into frequent contact.”
“Yes, sir. And as she was such a well-spoken and agreeable young lady—not flighty like some of the others—I would often fall into conversation with her when we met. Or ask her the honor of a dance in the evenings.”
Now that he thought of it, Sir Robert did recall seeing the two young people together quite often.
“It was after we left Yarmouth, sir, sailing for Annapolis, that I found myself fretting Miss Winslow might meet her future husband there. I wasn’t sure how I would bear it if she did. It was the same at Fort Amherst, only worse.”
The governor did recall his young aide brooding by times during their tour. He had put it down to all the late nights and rich food and changes in lodging. “If you felt that way, why didn’t you tell the young lady?”
“Tell her what?” Duckworth threw up his hands. “That I cannot bear the thought of her marrying someone else, but I can offer her no honorable alternative?”
“You might have told her the last part at least!” Sir Robert did not intend to speak so sharply, but could the lad not understand? His heart might not be the only one engaged and his future was not the only one at stake. “If Miss Winslow returned from our tour unwed, it can only mean she did not give any of those other men the least encouragement. If there is the slightest chance you have engaged the lady’s affections, you owe it to her to make your intentions known. Otherwise, she may miss an opportunity to secure a husband while waiting in vain for you to propose.”
Duckworth flinched under the rebuke but accepted it. “You are right, of course. I should have thought what this would mean for Miss Winslow. Do you reckon I have spoiled her chances?”
“Damned if I know.” He was treading on very thin ice by presuming to give advice in matters of the heart. “More to the point, why can you not ask Miss Winslow for her hand if you care for her?”
“What do I have to offer her? I have nothing beyond my salary and, though I have saved, it would never be enough to keep a wife and family. Besides, I have my duty to you, sir. You need me.” Duckworth sounded very certain of that—as well he should. “But the Colonial Office could send you elsewhere at any time. Ireland or India or Jamaica. It is one thing for a bachelor to travel the globe like that, but it would not be fair to uproot my wife every time you accepted a new post.”
Sir Robert pressed the tips of his fingers together. “I see your difficulty. Perhaps you had better have a talk with Miss Winslow just the same. If she does not return your feelings, there’s nothing to be done, I suppose, but hope your heart will mend in time.”
“But if she does?” Poor Duckworth looked as if that might be the more heartbreaking of the two options. “What then?”
He would have to go along to Prince’s Lodge for moral support, of course. The intensity of his anticipation surprised Sir Robert. It felt like weeks since he had set eyes on Jocelyn Finch, rather than hours. The distance between Prince’s Lodge and Government House seemed like hundreds of miles rather than six.
“Then—” he offered young Duckworth an encouraging smile “—this is what you must do….”
Prince’s Lodge felt so quiet with most of the girls gone. A wistful ache tugged at Jocelyn’s heart as she stared out at Bedford Basin from the great rooftop dormer. The happy pride and satisfaction she’d felt each time another group of her charges had taken their wedding vows was ebbing fast, leaving a sense of emptiness in its wake.
Was this how mothers felt after their children wed? Even when they were confident the matches would be happy ones? How much worse might a parent feel if she or he doubted the suitability of the match? If, indeed, that doubt had caused an irreparable breach with the child? An unwelcome twinge of pity for her father compounded the pain in Jocelyn’s heart.
That breach was his fault! she reminded herself. And he had been wrong about her and Ned. Besides, she had no indication he’d ever missed her—except as a tool of his dynastic plans gone astray.
There had been that letter after Ned’s death. But she’d been too consumed with grief and anger to do more than glance at it before throwing it in the fire. She could not allow herself to be angry at Ned for dying in battle, so she had focused her rage on the marquess instead. Had she been unfair to her father?
Some movement down on the road drew her attention and provided a welcome distraction from her troubling thoughts. She spied two men on horses—and they were coming up the lane.
The governor! Delight at his unexpected arrival banished all Jocelyn’s melancholy. The intensity of it staggered her. When and how had he gained such power over her happiness? Refusing to let that worry spoil her pleasure at seeing him, she raced down the stairs.
“Why, Sir Robert, how good to see you!” She swept him a deep curtsy, though she would rather have embraced him. “To what do we owe the honor of your visit?”
“I don’t know that it is much of an honor.” The governor climbed down from his horse and swept off his hat as he bowed to her. “I’m surprised you are not sick of the sight of me after all those weeks on our tour.”
Jocelyn laughed and shook her head. “Quite the contrary, I assure you.”
It had astonished her just how much to the contrary.
Sir Robert nodded toward the other rider. “I came along to keep Mr. Duckworth company. He has a particular errand here.”
“Mr. Duckworth, of course.” Jocelyn curtsied to the young man, embarrassed that she had not even noticed him. “An errand? How may I assist you?”
“Well, ma’am…” Mr. Duckworth removed his hat and began to toy with the brim in a rather agitated manner. “If you would be so kind as to direct me to Miss Winslow. There is something I wish…to discuss with her, if I may?”
With Lily? Oh!
“I believe you will find her over in the rose garden with some of the other young ladies. They are trying to decide what sorts of flowers to use for their bridal nosegays.”
An uncertain look came over Mr. Duckworth’s boyish features at the mention of “other young ladies.”
“Perhaps,” said Jocelyn, “you would be so kind as to tell the others I wish to speak with them. We have several important details still to decide about the weddings.”
“With pleasure, ma’am!” The transparent eagerness of the his smile rewarded Jocelyn for her tactful suggestion and banished any crumb of doubt as to the nature of his errand at Prince’s Lodge.
As he hurried off to find Lily, one of the sentries appeared, saluted the governor then offered to water the horses. With a word of thanks, Sir Robert turned over the reins.
“Of course you must be busy with plans for the weddings,” he said to Jocelyn. “Do not feel obliged to entertain me. I only came to lend Duckworth moral support…and to keep him from doing himself an injury if Miss Winslow refuses him.”
Though prudence urged her to keep her distance from the governor, Jocelyn latched onto his arm. “Do not imagine I will let you off that easily. I want to hear all about this business of Mr. Duckworth and Lily. As for the urgent discussion of wedding plans, have I not dragged you off on enough strolls this summer to admire indifferent views that you do not recognize an excuse to allow a courting c
ouple some privacy?”
Sir Robert chuckled. “I fear I will never master your subtlety when it comes to such matters, my dear.”
“Why do we not take a stroll and admire a truly fine view?” she suggested. “After having been away for so many weeks, I was struck anew by just how splendid it is.”
And after being continuously in his company for so many weeks, a brief separation and the prospect of a longer one had made her realize the intensity of her desire for this man.
They wandered over the wide, sloping front lawn toward a tall red maple, its foliage the hue of well-aged red wine.
“I must tell you,” said Jocelyn, “how vastly relieved I am that your Mr. Duckworth has decided to declare himself at last. I was on the point of seeking your advice in the matter. What on earth has kept him silent for so long?”
Sir Robert hesitated for a moment. “Would you subject me to a tirade if I told you it was a sense of duty that prevented Duckworth from proposing to the girl?”
“Tirade, indeed!” Jocelyn swatted his arm with one hand while she clung to it with the other. “What impudence! When have I ever subjected you to a tirade?”
“On the subject of duty?” Sir Robert pretended to ponder the question. “I believe the most recent occasion was yesterday around three o’clock. I recollect it quite clearly.”
“Nonsense!” Jocelyn could scarcely speak for laughing. “That was a spirited exchange of views, nothing more. You have not heard a tirade on the subject of duty until you have been subjected to one from my father.”
She must sound as tiresome and pedantic as her father—but the opposite tack. Perhaps the marquess did not mean to be tiresome and pedantic, either.
Jocelyn refused to dwell on that thought. “Besides, we were discussing your Mr. Duckworth. Give me an account of him and I promise no tirades. I shall listen as meek as you please.”
Though Sir Robert looked dubious of her assurances, he wasted no time telling her what she wanted to know. Jocelyn had far greater difficulty than she expected holding her tongue while she listened. When at last the governor finished speaking, she was fairly bursting with questions.
Deborah Hale Page 19