Captain's Lady

by Sharon Milburn

  “It was a very happy thought of mine to bring you to live with us, ma’am. If you can solve this problem I’ll be in your debt forever.”

  “As I’m in yours already, so we’ll say no more about it.”

  The ladies waved as the carriage moved off. Alice sighed.

  “Poor Edward, if it’s not one thing it’s another. He’s so worried about Bonaparte, too. I must confess I’m not looking forward to Penelope’s airs and graces. She’s a difficult child and will be all the more so after being abandoned in this heartless fashion by her own mother.”

  “You take too dim a view, Alice. This may well be the making of Penelope. Further exposure to her mother’s character must surely have ruined her forever. I’m sure it will not be too late for us to influence her.”

  “And I’m sure you’ll be sorely tried,” Alice replied. “You don’t know Penelope as I do.”

  The two of them returned inside as the carriage disappeared from view. “Dear Alice, are you forgetting Miss Joyce?”

  “Miss Joyce?” Alice had spent four very happy years at Miss Joyce’s seminary for young ladies in Bath. “The very thing! Mama, you’re a genius! But will Sir Edward be happy with the expense?”

  “Believe me, Edward will be delighted with such a simple solution. Gentlemen never begrudge spending money when it’s directly related to their personal comfort.”

  “That’s true, but how do we convince Penelope?”

  Again, Lady Sarah smiled. “All we need do is forbid her to mention the idea to her guardian. I’ll tell her that he could never afford to send her to Bath. And if you, my dear, exhibit your delight at having her returned to your charge, the result is a foregone conclusion.”

  Alice laughed aloud. “Mama, you’re a dreadful schemer. Of course you’re right. I can see exactly how Penelope will react.”

  “Indeed, especially as her clothes will be totally unsuitable and we’ll need to purchase everything new for her.”

  “You are wicked, Mama. Is this how you managed my sisters and me?”

  “No, indeed, you were never any trouble to me.”

  Alice turned her thoughts back to Edward. “Clothes as well as all the rest. Have you considered how much it will cost?”

  “Hardly more than the rent for that pretentious house in Lyme and the cost of Lavinia’s maidservant. I remember Edward saying it was just like Lavinia to choose the most expensive out of the three houses shown to her.”

  “That’s true, of course and her personal allowance can be stopped also. I hope Lavinia took all these things into consideration. She could never return from Trinidad. Just consider the scandal.”

  “Lavinia has made her bed and now she must lie in it, but I feel no alarm for her. She’ll look after herself very nicely. No doubt she’ll go on calling herself Lady Lavinia, or some such thing, even though she has no right to a title any longer. Señor Garcia’s aim, I’m sure, was to buy himself respectability. Her family name and Edward’s reputation on the West Indies station will do exactly that for him. He’ll do nothing to jeopardize that, I’m sure.”

  “No, very likely not. Lavinia will have everything her own way once again.”

  Lady Sarah grimaced. “You think so? How would you like to be married to Señor Garcia?”

  Alice considered. Her thoughts turned to the Lord Lieutenant’s ball and the way Señor Garcia had looked at her and every other woman in the room. There was something about his fleshy lips and sensual gaze both horrifying and repellent. He had it in him to be a very cruel man, she was sure.

  “No, indeed. Once again you’re right, Mama, but don’t forget what Lavinia’s previous husband was like. She must know what choice she has made.”

  At last hooves and wheels sounded on the gravel of the driveway. They had almost given up hope of the gentlemen returning that night. Snatching up the lanterns kept burning on a low flame before the butler or footman could reach them, Alice and her mother hurried to light the way for Edward, carrying a sleeping Penelope in his arms. Alice scurried ahead to the first landing on the stairs, lighting the wall sconces on the way and then led them into the bedroom. Edward and Joe went off to enjoy a very late supper while Alice and Lady Sarah undressed the still-sleeping Penelope and eased her between the sheets. Marks of tears on her cheeks told their own story, confirmed by Edward when they joined him in the dining room.

  “I’m afraid Penelope is not very happy to be returning to Alice’s care,” he told them. “From what I can understand she has been allowed to run unchecked at Lyme. The bills I’ve been paying for dancing and singing lessons, not to mention her supposed tutor, were all fabrications.”

  “Poor child.” Lady Sarah sipped on a small glass of wine. “What could she tell you about her mama?”

  Edward’s expression hardened. “Lavinia could no longer tolerate such a millstone around her neck. She further went on to tell her that Penelope was too much like her father to ever be worth loving. It’s a crime I find impossible to forgive. How can anyone treat a child so, let alone her own flesh and blood? She has shattered Penelope’s confidence and also the misplaced loyalty she undoubtedly felt for her mother. The humiliation she suffers at being forced back under this roof and into Alice’s care is very real. In fact, she assured us both quite forcefully that she would rather be dead.”

  Joe Delacourt winced at the recollection. “She screamed all the way from Lyme to the change of horses. I’ve no doubt when she recovers from her exhaustion she’ll start again.”

  “School is the answer.” Lady Sarah explained her solution. As she’d expected Edward jumped at the idea, his only reservations being Penelope’s willingness to live in Bath and the respectability of Miss Joyce.

  “Indeed, sir,” Alice reassured him. “I spent four years under Miss Joyce’s care myself. Your niece will be most excellently well looked after. Miss Joyce is strict, but entirely just and kind.”

  “If Lady Sarah trusted you to Miss Joyce’s care, then I can be assured of her character. All that remains is Penelope herself.”

  “And you must play your part,” Lady Sarah reminded him.

  Whatever ploy she used on the young girl, it worked like a charm. Two days later Edward found himself trapped in his study by a very determined young lady. He put up a creditable fight, even enlisting Alice’s help in convincing Penelope to stay at The Priory, but she was allowed her way in the end. Triumphantly Penelope gloated over Alice when Sir Edward reluctantly gave his permission for her to attend school.

  “And I’ll not ask your help in choosing my new clothes, Alice, because you’re such a dowdy thing. I’ll ask my Aunt Sarah to come with me to Bath. She’s always so very elegant, even if she’s as poor as a church mouse. Mama told me that, so I know. And won’t Mama be full of astonishment when she sees me. I’ll be a young lady as fine and as stylish as she is.”

  Alice waited until the door closed on the child’s smirking face. “It’s to be hoped her nature will be improved at Miss Joyce’s establishment. To be wanting to rival her mother is no great recommendation to me.”

  Edward nodded. “I fear she will be yet again disappointed if she expects her mother to come back for her. I doubt if Lavinia will even write.”

  He looked almost forlorn. Alice imagined him as the little boy, being sent away to sea by a father who had turned his back on him. “You’ve done the best you can. Penelope is so much luckier than she can ever realize.”

  “Perhaps, but in a more just world she would be the possessor of The Priory and the entire estate, would she not? I’ll do what I can for Penelope. The problem that must now be addressed is what to do with you.”

  A flood of warmth surged through her cheeks, but Edward appeared not to notice. “If your mama takes Penelope to Bath she’ll be away for at least a week, probably longer. From that young lady’s present attitude I doubt you’d be welcome as a third on the journey.”

  Her initial confusion subsided. How silly of her to read more into his words than was intended.


  “I’ll be perfectly happy here, taking care of Gabrielle.”

  “Perhaps so, but it would be not at all the thing, with two gentlemen in the house and you unchaperoned. I think we should escort your mama to Bath and put up at White Horse while she’s there.”

  “On no account in the world!” Alice exclaimed. “To be put out of your own home by such a silly propriety. I won’t hear of it.”

  “I don’t regard it as silly.” Edward’s sternness surprised her. “Through no fault of your own you’ve been already the subject of scandalous gossip. Joe and I will remove to Bath. I should certainly meet this Miss Joyce of yours, at the very least.” He paused for a moment. “I have it! I’ll ask Mr.s. Tyler to stay with you during your mama’s absence.”

  “Jem’s mother? Are you serious?” before the words left her mouth Alice could tell that Edward was utterly serious.

  “It’s the perfect solution. Mr.s. Tyler is very well respected in the village. I’ve made enquiries. She was a dresser in a large London household before she married her husband. She’ll know exactly how to go on and be good company for you. She can read and write, you know.”

  He looked at her rebellious expression and tried again. “I’ve not been the best host for Captain Delacourt. Perhaps we can attend one or two assemblies and even call on Lady Bicton. I happen to know she’s visiting friends in Bath at the moment. There may well be more news to be had in Bath. Something is brewing. Wellington will be coming to grips with Bonaparte any day now. I’m as sure of that as I can be about anything.”

  Alice almost smiled as his scheming became clear. “Indeed, two gentlemen such as you and Captain Delacourt would find much to do in Bath. Perhaps you could take the waters. I believe they are very restorative.”

  “Perhaps I could, if I were in need of restoration.”

  She grinned at him. “After a night or two at the assemblies, perhaps you will be.”

  He relaxed suddenly. “Touché. Will you call on Mr.s. Tyler and ask her to stay, or should I do that?”

  On the point of telling him that she could look after herself for a week, Alice changed her mind. One look at his face told her he might have relaxed, but he hadn’t relented. He wasn’t going to be swayed on his decision.

  “We can feed up the both of them while they stay here. Even five shillings a week doesn’t go far with a boy like Jem to fill. I’ll call on her. You’ll be too busy with all the arrangements for your journey to make.”

  “Good.”

  “If you’ll excuse me, then.”

  He opened the door for her, bowing as she passed through. “I’ll be relying on you yet again, Alice to take care of Gabrielle for me.”

  She smiled up at him. “Of course.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  There was one thing for sure—life with Jem Tyler around could not be called boring. Lady Sarah and Edward had not been gone two days when the young rapscallion fell off the stable roof. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on the point of view, his fall was broken by the midden pile. Horse and chicken manure left to rot in the June sunshine emitted a powerful odor. Mr.s. Tyler was obliged to enlist the groom’s help to hold her young son down as she scrubbed him in an old half-barrel in the stable yard. With the aid of the laundry tongs Alice bore off his clothing to be boiled and counted herself lucky to have had such a small part in the affair.

  Undeterred equally by his near escape from a broken neck as by his mother’s wrath the next day Jem raided the stillroom for a jar and his mother’s closet for a stocking. Tied to a cleft stick it made a passable fishing net. Only when Jem trailed home soaking from a dip in the river did Alice deem it time to intervene in his activities. There was a vacant desk in the schoolroom, after all and his future would be so much brighter if he could write as well as read. Mr.s. Tyler stood over him with a hand on his shoulder for the first hour, but Jem was a clever lad. Reluctant as he was to sit still for more than two minutes together his burning ambition to learn overcame his fidgets. At the end of his first lesson he could write his Christian name, if not with ease then at least with clarity.

  Alice laughed a little at the sight of him with his tongue protruding from the corner of his mouth and his hair poking up every which way as he concentrated fiercely to get the letters the same size three times in a row. If Penelope had been half so eager to learn what a joy teaching her would have been.

  The groom didn’t quite share her enthusiasm as he invited her to inspect the stables the next day.

  “Perhaps you could lend the young devil a slate, Miss Carstairs.”

  Alice held her hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle as she looked around at Jem’s handiwork, his name scrawled in chalk on all the stone troughs and even in several places on the flagstones.

  “I shall have to, Matthew. But don’t be too harsh on him. He hasn’t touched the loose boxes, or the stalls, or indeed any of the wooden surfaces where he might have caused damage. All this can easily be scrubbed away.”

  “Aye and I know who’ll be doing the scrubbing, beggin’ your pardon, when I find him.” Matthew growled, but there was a twinkle in his eye all the same. “Full of gunpowder, that one is, like his dad when he were a boy. We grew up together in the village.”

  “Look at this!” Alice had just caught sight of one last name, not just “Jem”, but “Jem Tyler”. “I didn’t teach him how to write his surname. He’s worked that out all by himself. I should show it to his mother.”

  “Not if you want young Jem to sit down this week, you shouldn’t, miss. I don’t think she’ll be too impressed.”

  This time Alice laughed out loud. “Indeed, Matthew. You are very right. I hadn’t considered. I’ll send Jem to you to clean up all the marks and we’ll keep it between ourselves.”

  Matthew touched a knuckle to his forehead. “Right you are, miss. But don’t forget that slate, will you?”

  Still smiling, Alice found the unrepentant boy and sent him off to the stables with the promise of a slate to practice on and another lesson once all the cleaning had been done. She watched him race off, full of energy now that he had good food three times a day. Already he had started to fill out and she could have sworn he’d grown an inch since yesterday. How marvelous to have a son with such spirit and strength of character.

  It was a very small step to wondering what Edward’s sons would be like. The same eyes and hair, no doubt. Perhaps not so dark in complexion if they didn’t follow in his footsteps and go to sea. Their mother would have her hands full keeping up with them.

  Alice pulled herself up short. That was dangerous territory indeed, imagining the mother of Edward’s sons. Right now there was his niece to visit in the nursery and her lesson with Jem to think about. The future would have to take care of itself.

  The third Sunday of June dawned with no word of Edward or her mother. Alice prepared for church wondering how soon they would be home. They had been gone for nine days, now, with only a brief letter from her mama to let them know they had arrived safely and that Penelope had decided to like her new school.

  After the service in the village church there was no talk of Sir Edward or his affairs. The parish was rife with rumors and gossip of the goings-on in Belgium. There were several with anxious faces, a few for their sons and brothers with Wellington, but most worried what would happen if this war started up again in earnest. Mr.s. Tyler with her sad history knew better than most what was likely to happen across the sea in Belgium.

  “What if the duke fails? What then?”

  Alice looked at the speaker, her neighbor and friend Farmer Reid. “Sir Edward has confidence in Wellington,” she told him. “Although the army is not what it was before the Treaty of Fontainebleau, Bonaparte’s strength is also much reduced. His cunning is renowned, but he has not before faced Wellington directly. Blücher, too, is not insignificant. He has beaten Bonaparte already, after all.”

  “That’s all true, but it can also be said that Wellington has not faced Bonaparte dire
ctly. Who knows what may befall us?”

  “I’m sure when Sir Edward returns he’ll have the very latest news. These rumors of skirmishes we have heard this morning have no basis in fact as yet.”

  “Aye, you’re right, I suppose. Always sensible, aren’t you, Miss Carstairs? No matter how much worrying I do I’d better off worrying about my hay and my harvest. Those I can do something about. Good day to you.” He raised his hat to Alice and Mr.s. Tyler before making his way to his gig.

  Mr.s. Tyler found Jem, his Sunday jacket already rumpled and stained with grass on one sleeve. Shooed off on his way home he galloped ahead while the two ladies walked on more slowly.

  Alice voiced her fears. “I may be sensible, as Mr. Reid asserts, but it doesn’t stop me worrying. If Wellington doesn’t crush Bonaparte, Sir Edward will be drawn back into action, perhaps any day.”

  “You’ll miss him, won’t you, if he goes. It’s hard to part with loved ones, knowing they may never return.” She sighed. “My Jeremy…no, I must let go of the past. It’s your future we have to worry about.”

  Alice felt heat rise in her cheeks. “I have no future, Mr.s. Tyler. Not with Sir Edward, anyway.”

  The widow glanced at her, eyebrows raised, but said nothing. Alice felt her blush deepen. So much for her discretion and attempts to remain apparently nonchalant where Edward was concerned. Mr.s. Tyler could see through her like a glass windowpane. Who else knew she wore her heart on her sleeve?

  * * * * *

  By Thursday morning Alice didn’t know what to do with herself. She’d been sleepless for most of the night, turning over again and again as her thought screamed through her head. There was still no news. What snippets there were, when they could be distinguished from the gossip and rumor, were as bad as they could be. There was no doubt fighting had started. A tale spread faster than the wind in the trees that the Duke of Brunswick himself had been killed and his troops routed.

  The specter of defeat loomed large over all of them, even in this quiet corner of rural England. Somewhere, far away in Belgium, men had fought and died. Even now the Duke of Wellington himself, hero of the Peninsular Campaign, could be a prisoner, or worse. Would Bonaparte spread his evil once again, forcing husbands away from wives and sons from their mothers? Surely it could not happen? Edward and all of them, had endured too much already.