Captain's Lady

by Sharon Milburn

  It was futile to try and groom herself but nevertheless Alice finger-combed her hair before twining it into a greasy plait. No doubt it would be riddled with lice before much longer. Her eyes felt so sore and her fingers were so numb as to be almost useless. How could she endure these filthy, cramped conditions? Only one thing could be worse and that would be the verminous, crammed hold of a prison ship on its way to Botany Bay.

  There was a stir outside the cell. Was that what had wakened her, or had it been just another rat? Her companions stirred at the echoing sound of marching feet and the clank of keys. Surely it was too early for the swill that passed for breakfast? As one the women cringed back toward the dank walls. Who did they want this time and why?

  The flickering light of a torch cast an uneven glow as the door creaked open. Dazzled by the glare, Alice didn’t at once discern the figures in the doorway. There was an oath as the second man thrust his way past the jailer into the cell. The voice sounded hoarse with anxiety.

  “Miss Carstairs? Alice? Are you here?”

  It had to be a dream. It couldn’t be! But the light was steadier now and the torch held aloft highlighted white lapels, gleaming gold braid and rows of polished buttons. A sob tore from her throat. She held out her hand in supplication.

  “Sir Edward! Oh, thank God!”

  The torch was thrust aside as he took two strides to her side and sank to his knee in the dirt. She struggled to rise, but her limbs were stiff from the cramped conditions and numb from the cold.

  “Dear God, Alice! I’ll see that bastard rot in hell for this.” His words were quietly spoken, but the bitter hatred and utter conviction in his tone were no less convincing for all that. In one swift motion he stripped off his boat-cloak and wrapped it around her shivering form. Before she could utter a word she was swept into the haven of his arms.

  The harshness of the light outside struck her with a stunning force. She moaned softly and turned her face more closely against his chest. How wonderful though, to taste the clean morning air and feel the warmth of his breath against her hair. She couldn’t look, but she could hear him.

  “I have you safe now. Hold on a little while longer. There’s nothing more for you to worry about.”

  His words soothed her as he strode along the street. They must be making the most amazing spectacle, but she cared nothing for that. Let the gaping onlookers conjecture what they wished!

  There was a bustle as they entered an inn. Sir Edward’s peremptory orders sent the landlord scurrying for his wife and a boy from the taproom for an apothecary. Alice cried out as she felt herself laid on a bed, but Edward sat beside her and held her hand.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ve never been so angry in all my life at this outrage. Harding had to travel to the Nore to find me. I came as soon as I could, Alice. Please forgive me. This is my fault.”

  She shook her head weakly, but could find no words to express the emotions that burned in her chest. All she could do was grip his hand as fiercely as she could. One attempt to look at him ended with dazzling pain. She just couldn’t stand the light. She let go of him to press her hands against her burning eyes. Tears welled up through her fingers.

  His voice came again from the other side of the room.

  “Let me close these blinds. I’ll leave you here with the landlady to take care of you. She’ll give you a hot bath and some warm milk. There are some questions I must ask you, but they can wait until you’re more comfortable.”

  No, he couldn’t leave! Where was he going? Panic-stricken, she sat bolt upright, half climbing off the bed in her haste to find him. “Please don’t leave me. Please.”

  In two strides he crossed back to her side. She fumbled for his hand, hanging on for grim death once she found it. Alice forced herself to open her eyes properly and look at him. In the dim light of the shaded bedchamber they didn’t hurt quite so badly and she could make out his features. Unfortunately she could also make out her own rags, gaping at the neckline where her dress had been torn. Embarrassment at her appearance blotted out her earlier joy, but she had to make him understand. She squeezed his fingers. It was desperately important that he knew the truth.

  “I didn’t steal from you. I would never—”

  “Hush!” He leant forward. His finger touched her lips, silencing her words. With gentle care he smoothed her hair back from her face. “I know you’ve done nothing wrong. Harding has told me everything. Don’t worry. I have to leave you now, but we can talk later. You have to be attended to and there’s something else I must see to without delay.”

  More weak tears slipped from under her eyelids as he left the room. Oh, the utter, blissful relief to be out of that dank, stinking chamber of horrors! The thought of being clean again and warm, left her trembling with relief. And Edward had returned. His eyes had been full of pity and compassion as he looked down at her. Alice wrapped the dark blue fabric of his boat-cloak more closely round her and smelled the scent of sea air that was so much a part of him.

  The landlady bustled into the room, carrying an enormous hip bath. Three maids followed behind burdened with brass ewers of hot water.

  She didn’t sound to be best pleased. “Now, then, miss. Here’s a to-do! I don’t know when there’s been such goings-on in my house. You’d better not have vermin, although it will be a miracle if you don’t.”

  Her voice softened slightly as she took in Alice’s woebegone appearance. “Eeh, it’s a scandal, so it is. You give them rags over to me. They’re only fit for the back of the fire.”

  Alice allowed herself to be bullied and cajoled into the steaming water. No one had bathed her in this way since she’d been a tiny girl. Her hair was soaped and rinsed and soaped again until it squeaked with cleanliness. The landlady herself bustled away to fetch a vinegar rinse and then rubbed her head almost dry with a warm towel, before helping her into a borrowed nightdress made for a taller person.

  “Off to bed with you.” She tucked in the sheets. “There now, that has to be better. I’ll just fetch you a cap to go with that nightgown and some warm broth. The captain is back and waiting to speak to you, too. Proper anxious, he is. Can’t say as I blame him, myself.”

  When she returned Edward was right on her heels. The landlady fitted the cap over Alice’s hair, then turned to go.

  Edward held out a hand to stay her exit. “If you please, Mr.s. Portman, I would like you to remain while I talk to Miss Carstairs.”

  “Ee, you’d not harm a hair on the poor lamb’s head. I saw that right off.”

  “Thank you for your confidence, but I feel it’s necessary to have a female present. I want no more gossip.”

  The landlady’s expression softened. “Of course, sir. I understand.” She removed herself to the window seat where she could see everything but not necessarily hear their conversation.

  Edward pulled a chair over to the bedside. He sat for a moment, just looking at her face. Tired as she was Alice could do no more than return his regard. Her eyes blurred. What a feeble watering pot she was.

  He reached out to take her hand in his. His voice broke. “I beg you not to cry! I can’t bear to see your tears and know I was the cause of them. There’s nothing to be afraid of now. Tell me exactly what happened.”

  Hesitant at first, she explained about her confrontation with Lavinia, that she’d left the letters in the desk drawer for her to find and how the constable had discovered the thirty guineas in her room. The frown that marred his expression deepened as she proceeded, until he looked so grim her faltering tale came to a halt.

  He bit his lip. “I have to ask you this, Alice.” He paused for a moment, his eyes alight with fierce anger, a deep, simmering rage that threatened to break out at any second. There was fear there, too, fear what her answer would be. “When I removed you from that place I noticed that the bodice of your dress was torn. Was it Scripps? Did he molest you in any way, or anyone else for that matter?”

  She shook her head. “No, I wasn’t har
med. There was a fight in the cell. Another woman wanted my bread. We struggled briefly. Nothing else happened.”

  Unconvinced, he looked over to the landlady. “Mr.s. Portman, do you have anything to tell me?”

  She shook her head. “Nay, Sir Edward. Don’t worry so. There was only a few bruises to her arms. And her elbows are chafed where she’s been leaning on them, but that’s all.”

  Relief softened his features. He squeezed her hand. “Thank God. I would never have forgiven myself.”

  Alice looked into his eyes, unable to say a word. He gazed back, so concerned about her.

  A tap at the door broke the tension. Edward stood up.

  “That will be the apothecary. I have people to see, the magistrate and the constable to name but two. I’ll speak to you again after you’ve rested.”

  There was a mutter of low-voiced conversation outside the door, but she took little notice. Perhaps she’d started to doze, as she didn’t even hear the bespectacled old man come into the room.

  Weariness began to overwhelm her as he peered down her throat and pulled at her eyelids.

  “Hmm. Nasty eyes. I’ll give you a wash for them. No sign of jail fever that I can see, which is a blessing, I suppose. Good food and rest is what you need, Miss Carstairs. I’ll inform Sir Edward as soon as he returns. He’s gone to attend to some business and will then go back to The Priory for your clothes, but you’re to stay here for the next few days. He bade me tell you he has to make a journey over to Salisbury but will return as soon as may be. You’re not to stir from this room until he gives his permission.”

  Salisbury? What a strange place to go. Portsmouth she could have understood, but Salisbury? Thinking was too hard and she felt so tired. The room faded away as sleep overcame her.

  A dream flowed softly round her like a silken cloak. Warmth and contentment. The sound of her mother’s voice. Recollections of nursery days and the happy home they had shared before her father’s disgrace and the ensuing penury had forced her to accept Lavinia’s charity. Alice didn’t want to waken. She clung to the memories in a state of half-sensible awareness as other sounds intruded. Somewhere outside a pig squealed and near at hand a chambermaid sang an old ballad as she went about her work.

  And yet the voice came again. It couldn’t be her mother. She lived in Wiltshire, a day’s journey away. But there it was, stronger, more insistent. It did sound like mama.

  Gray eyes so much like her own gazed down at her, filled with concern and love. Alice blinked and looked again. She wasn’t dreaming. Mama had come to her.

  “My darling.” Lady Sarah choked on the words, too overwhelmed with emotion to say more. Alice felt her own eyes fill with scalding tears of joy as she pushed herself up into an embrace. They clutched each other wordlessly for endless moments. Everything would be set to rights now.

  “How…” Alice pulled back to study her mother. “How did you get here? How can this be?”

  “Isn’t wonderful? Sir Edward Masterman arrived on your brother’s doorstep yesterday and fetched me away to come and be with you.”

  “Yesterday?” Had she been asleep for so long? “Sir Edward brought you?” Oh, that was why he’d gone to Salisbury! Why had she not thought of that? What a wonderful man he was. Alice felt fresh tears start into her eyes. All she could do was cry and she despised crybabies.

  Casting back the covers, she started to rise from her bed until her mother restrained her.

  “No, no, my dear. You must stay where you are. I was never more shocked in my life when I learned of your hideous ordeal. You must remain completely quiet until you’ve regained your strength. First you’ll eat and then I’ll sit here in this chair and read to you, as we used to do in times gone by.”

  Alice heard not a word of the novel Edward had so considerately provided for her. Her thoughts flew in a thousand directions, all tumbled with visions of him as she’d last seen him and his actions since. She longed to talk to him about so many things. Had he received an appointment? Was he home to stay? How had he known about her mother? The boat-cloak still lay across the foot of the bed. He’d gone to Salisbury without it. Did he have another?

  After luncheon mama left her for an hour or two to rest upon her own bed. Alice lay contented for a little while, until a surreptitious knock sounded at her door. It was little more than a scratch. A second later a chambermaid popped her head in.

  “Miss, are you awake?”

  Her furtive manner intrigued Alice. “Yes. Do you wish to speak to me?”

  The young girl slid into the room, shutting the door noiselessly behind her. Her face lit up with excitement.

  “Oh, miss! Such goings-on as we had yesterday when you were so poorly. I thought no one would have taken it on themselves to tell you, but it was such a fine sight. I made sure you’d want to know.”

  “Want to know what?”

  “What your captain did to that Mr. Scripps.”

  That caught her attention. Alice sat up in bed in a hurry. “He’s not my captain. I’m just in his employ.” Vague notions about her mother’s strictures on gossiping with servants flittered through her head, but who else was there to tell her what had transpired? Her mother never would and Sir Edward would pretend nothing had happened. She had to know the truth.

  “Sit down here by the bed. Tell me your name, first.”

  The maid could hardly contain her excitement. “I’m Betty, miss. I helped you with your bath yesterday when the captain brought you here from the jail.”

  “Yes, I remember you now. Go on. What did he do?”

  Betty, hugely enjoying herself, drew in a deep breath. Her eyes widened. Looking over her shoulder before she began, her words came out in a loud whisper.

  “He were that angry, miss! He stomped off down the stairs like you wouldn’t believe, banged the door open and called for his man. My sister is a chambermaid at the Royal hotel, opposite Scripps’ house and she saw nearly all of it. That ruffian he calls a servant broke open Mr. Scripps’ door with one mighty kick. A proper pirate, he is, with his black face and that red scarf round his neck. He were yelling blue murder.”

  “Never mind about Harding. What happened?”

  Betty glanced around again. Her eyes widened even further. “The captain, he stormed into the house. Ginny, my sister, she heard the yelling and banging and ran to see. Just then Scripps comes flying out of the door, in his nightshirt! Hauled him right out of his bed, so he did and flung him in the street in all the dirt!”

  Alice covered her mouth with her hands and gave a gasp. “Sir Edward? He didn’t!”

  “Oh, yes, he did, miss. And then he picks him up by the scruff of his neck and shakes him like a dog. Blood was running by this time, all down that nice white nightshirt of his. Fair drew his cork he did, an’ no error about that! Ginny thought he was going to strangle him right then and there in the High Street, but he stopped himself. Instead he hauls him off to the jail, where you had just come from. Scripps’ feet didn’t hardly touch the ground but one stride in three. Still like to be throttled, he was, if he gave any trouble.”

  Betty had to pause for breath, but she rattled on again straight away. “All the baker’s boys and the butcher’s boys were staring and whistling and the dogs started yapping, with Ginny and her friends hanging out of the windows to watch and that man you called Harding following on behind with a face like death and a mighty cutlass in his fist, waiting for somebody to interfere! As if anyone durst, or would want to for that matter. Just like the circus had come to town, she said, only this was no act. Then the captain, he dusts off his hands and marches back here, cool as you please. He acts as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, talks to you like he did and then drives off in the post chaise. I heard Scripps is going to hang!”

  “Hang? Surely not!” Alice could only stare in amazement.

  Betty’s common sense tempered her imagination. “Well, maybe not, but he’ll be on the transport to Botany Bay for sure and serve him right. He’s be
en stealing people blind for years, not to mention no decent girl wants to work in his house. Everybody knows about Scripps. Ginny cheered, she told me.”

  There was a sound on the stair, then a distant shout. “Betty, come down here at once! There’s a lady with a bag to unpack.”

  “I must go, Miss. I thought you’d be pleased about Scripps. If I hear anything more before you leave I’ll try to let you know.”

  Betty whisked out of the room. Alice heard her footsteps on the stairs as she ran to do Mr.s. Portman’s bidding. So Scripps had met his just deserts. How he would have hated to be so humiliated! And Edward, to behave in such a fashion! Seth Harding she believed capable of anything. Seemingly Edward, too, could match him.

  She lay back and pulled the coverlet up to her chin. Warmth stole round her body as she thought of Edward’s actions, imagining the scene over and over again. Sir Galahad himself could not have done better. What would she not have given to be Ginny just for the morning, to see Scripps dangling at the end of Edward’s fist! Still daydreaming happily, she drifted off to sleep.

  By the next morning she felt so much more like her old self. Her limbs trembled as she rose from the bed after she’d breakfasted but she shrugged off the temporary weakness. Two days of rest had worked wonders. She needed fresh air and exercise after being cooped up for so long. The nightmare of the prison had seemed like a lifetime, but it had been in fact only ten days or so.

  Once clothed she rested briefly in the seat by the window until her mama had finished dressing her hair. There was a tap at her door. Lady Sarah crossed to open it before Alice could move. One glance and her heart beat faster. The unmistakable form of Edward stood there.

  “Good day to you, my lady. Miss Carstairs, I’m very happy to see you looking so much more the thing.”

  Avidly she took in his features and examined his appearance. What a change! No longer dressed in his uniform, he wore instead a coat of blue superfine, an immaculate neckcloth and superbly cut pantaloons of a soft dove shade. His Hessians were polished to a brilliant gloss. He looked so different and yet so endearingly familiar.