Captain's Lady

by Sharon Milburn

  Jem had made himself scarce, so there wasn’t even the distraction of a lesson to settle her mind. The young imp had probably run all the way to Winchester in the hope of discovering some information. Mr.s. Tyler could only shake her head.

  “I’m thankful he’s too young to enlist, or he’d be off. All he can think of is taking the King’s Shilling. Just like his father.” Her voice dropped in anguish. “And like to end the same way, if the French monster gets his way.”

  Alice put her arm round Mr.s. Tyler’s trembling shoulders and hugged her.

  “We mustn’t give way to despair. If only Sir Edward were here! I’m sure he’ll come home with news today.”

  The morning dragged on. Neither of them could face luncheon. Hemming sheets proved to be no distraction. Alice turned to her fancy needlework. This needed concentration if the pattern was to remain unspoiled, but even that was hard going. At the first hint of hooves and wheels on the gravel driveway she cast the embroidery frame to the floor and flew up, reaching the front door well before Barlow.

  Edward leapt to the ground before the wheels stopped turning, spurning the footman’s hand and the carriage steps alike. He waved a newspaper aloft like a banner.

  “We stopped in Winchester for the Gazette. Copies have arrived from London. It’s victory, ladies. Wellington has won!”

  “Oh, thank God!” Alice’s knees felt suddenly weak as tears of relief sprang to her eyes.

  Edward sobered. “The cost has been tremendous. I don’t know the details yet as the coach jolted overmuch for us to read properly.”

  He turned back to assist Lady Sarah, but Joe Delacourt was there before him. Alice took a deep breath. She must not make a fool of herself. Instead of giving in to her first impulse to fly into Edward’s arms she hurried over to her mother.

  “Oh, is it really true then? Has Wellington beaten him?”

  Lady Sarah clutched one of her hands. “There can be no doubt. In his dispatch he says that Marshall Blücher is pursuing the remains of the French army back toward Paris.”

  With her free hand Alice reached for Joe Delacourt. “You’re safe. You’re all safe! You won’t have to fight again.”

  He took hold of her fingers with both of his huge hands and pumped her arm up and down. “Boney’s beat! Hurray!”

  He reminded her so strongly of Jem she turned away to hide a smile. Just above her on the first step, Edward stared down at her. As soon as he saw her eyes his expression changed, as if he had donned a mask. All emotion vanished. She’d seen him look that way before, when he had first arrived at The Priory.

  Hesitantly she reached for him. “Oh, Edward, I’m so glad you’ll be safe.”

  His hands enclosed hers just for a moment, in a warm, hard clasp.

  “Come inside.” He shook his head a little. “Come inside, all of you!” Lady Sarah must be exhausted, for we have not spared ourselves today. Barlow, champagne, if you please and a tankard of ale each for all the servants.”

  “At once, sir.”

  Mr.s. Tyler would have withdrawn herself at this point, but Edward held out his other arm for her. “Come, ma’am. You must be as anxious as anyone for the news.”

  Flustered and blushing, she did as she was bid. Edward handed her to one of the better seats in the drawing room and presented her with a glass of sparkling wine before all the others save Lady Sarah.

  “A toast! Victory and death to the French!”

  “Victory!” Alice raised her glass. She wouldn’t drink to death, not for anyone, including Bonaparte. There had been too much of that.

  “Read out the dispatch, Edward,” Lady Sarah requested. They fell silent as he complied. The Duke’s words, written on the Sunday night with the sounds and the smells of the battle all around him, filled the room.

  “My lord, Bonaparte, having collected the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 6th Corps of the French army…”

  Chapter Fourteen

  As they were finishing breakfast, the butler entered the room. Alice could tell at once that there was something he needed to say.

  “What’s amiss, Barlow? Is there a problem?”

  “Not precisely, Miss Alice, but Evan, Farmer Reid’s young lad, has come with a request from his father.”

  Edward looked up. “Bring him in and he can speak for himself. He won’t be disturbing us. We’re just about done, anyway.”

  Lady Sarah started to rise, but Edward reached out a hand to stop her. “No, no, ma’am. Don’t hurry away. It can’t be anything serious. Finish your meal. We’ll go to the study if need be.”

  Young Evan was a strapping boy about fifteen years old, already tall and well formed. He held his hat in his hands, nervously swapping it from one huge fist to the other. His feet shifted uncomfortably as a flush spread up from his bare neck into his face as he saw the four of them waiting for him.

  Edward took pity on his awkwardness. “You’ve a message from your father, lad?”

  “Yessir. I mean, yes, Sir Edward. Dad…my father is fair worried that rain’s coming and not more than a quarter of the hay is in. He wondered, that is, he hoped, if you could let him have Jed for the day and if you would be so kind,” it came out in a rush, obviously well rehearsed, “and if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, the gardener as well.”

  It was obviously urgent. Edward crossed to the window to look at the sky. Joe Delacourt agreed with the farmer’s forecast.

  “I felt it this morning, the moment I woke up. He’s right. It’ll be rain before nightfall.”

  Edward turned back to the ladies. “Sailors and farmers. We’re of the same mind. The first thing we do when we open our eyes is to check the weather…” He turned to the lad. “Evan, is it? You can have the men and welcome. Will two be enough? What about more horses?”

  Evan let out a sigh of relief. It was easy to see he’d been really worried about a refusal. “We’re never going to get it all in, but your outdoor men would be a godsend, sir and another pair of horses could pull the small wain. There’s absolutely nobody left in the village. All the lads and lasses and the old folk too, are out working already. All the farmers hereabout are afright, that’s for sure.”

  Joe Delacourt cocked an eyebrow toward his host. “What about it, Ned? Fancy a spot of haymaking to take some of that fat off you?”

  Alice looked at Edward’s lean figure. What fat? Edward certainly did not need to slim down. He had already started to make plans. She could see that just by the look in his eyes. Her heart warmed at their generosity. What other gentleman in the county would even consider working in the fields? She jumped up as well.

  “Mama, Would you allow me to help? Essie will have to stay to feed Gabrielle, but Cora and I can fetch and carry, or even drive the pair if need be.”

  It was Edward’s turn to look surprised, but he was also touched. “There’s no need for you to come out, Miss Carstairs. Haymaking is hard work, I have no doubt.”

  She shook her head. “It’s an emergency. As you yourself once said to me, sir, all hands on deck!”

  He laughed. “So I did. You’ll be very welcome, I’m sure.”

  Evan ran ahead to tell his father the startling news. Instead of the two extra men Farmer Reid had hoped for seven of them trooped down from the house, Jed and the gardener, the coachman bringing his pair of horses, Francis the footman, Harding, as fierce-looking as ever and the two gentlemen in their shirtsleeves, waistcoats and breeches, all but the coachman with stable pitchforks on their shoulders. Behind, in her old blue cambric gown and straw hat, Alice drove Ney in the gig, Cora crammed in beside her together with flagons and flagons of ale wherever there was space for them under the seat or on the floorboards among their feet.

  Farmer Reid shook Edward’s hand in fervent thanks and then turned to Joe as well. “God bless you, sir and you too, Captain and all your men. I’m that grateful. Let’s be at it.”

  The odd wisp of cloud drifted past high above. Even though the sun still shone. Alice could see the worried looks the men
cast toward the horizon whenever they paused to draw breath or wipe a brow. Before ten o’clock she could see for herself the storm clouds starting to boil up, rolling in from the southwest and climbing ever higher and blacker into the sky.

  She scurried around, fetching and carrying when she could. Using a pitchfork with any accuracy was beyond her, but she could rake with the best of them when one became available. It was heavy, hard work and the men were often in need of long draughts from the flagons. Cora ran from one to the other, carrying a stoneware bottle in one hand, holding her skirts to keep from stumbling on the uneven ground.

  In what seemed like a very short time Alice noticed Lady Sarah and Essie approaching down the road, leading Gladiator between them. The old horse carried pack baskets on his back, weighed down with fresh bread, chunks of cheese and Cook’s best apple pies, still warm from the oven. There was more than enough to provision one of Edward’s frigates!

  Edward groaned and cast himself on a bank, Joe close beside him. “Lady Sarah, you are a godsend! I declare I have never seen such a welcome sight.”

  For all they were ravenously hungry they allowed themselves barely fifteen minutes to wolf down the food, as the clouds had rolled ever higher into the sky and were now shot here and there with ominous flashes of brilliant white light. There was very little time left.

  Lady Sarah returned to the main house with empty flagons in the place of the food and the work began again. Slowly, slowly the hay was raked into piles, loaded onto the lumbering wains and dragged back to safety. Farmer Reid himself supervised the building of the stacks. It was skilled work, crucial that it was done correctly to prevent loss from the wind, or worse, that dreaded event, a spontaneous rick fire. Ever more slowly as they tired, with the lightning now flickering almost around their ears and the thunder crashing and rolling only a few seconds after the flashes, the meadows were cleared.

  As the first fat drops began to fall the farmer’s lads dragged a heavy tarpaulin over the last overloaded wain. Closer to Three Oaks Farmhouse than The Priory, they all ran for shelter in the farm kitchen.

  Mr.s. Reid had not been idle, either. Delicious smells of roast beef wafted round the room. Bobbing and curtseying as the gentlemen came in she tried to usher them into her parlor. Edward foiled her plans.

  “I wouldn’t for the world sit in your parlor in my shirt sleeves and all my dirt, Mr.s. Reid! I can’t begin to imagine what Lady Sarah would have to say to me if I did such a thing. We’ll wash under the pump and sit at your kitchen table with the rest of you. Perhaps you would allow Miss Carstairs the use of a chamber, though, to wash her hands.”

  Oh, heavens! She must look a terrible fright. Alice untied the strings of her bonnet and felt her hair cascade down her back.

  “Mr.s. Reid, I beg of you. Some hot water, a mirror and a comb. Please?”

  “At once, miss. I had no notion you were out there helping too.”

  “And why not, since it was by your help and your husband’s, that we survived this past winter? I was so very grateful to you.”

  Mr.s. Reid flushed. “Oh, that was nothing at all. So kind you always are to us and so polite. You come this way with me and we’ll have you right in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

  Not precisely that quickly, but less than ten minutes later Alice returned to the big kitchen where at that exact moment enormous platters of food were being set out on the huge scrubbed table in the middle of the room. Joe jumped to hold a chair for her and the farmer’s family all shuffled down to make room for the gentry.

  Joe Delacourt winced as he sat down and winced again as he reached to pick up a tankard of cider. He stopped to examine the palm of his hand.

  Edward laughed sympathetically at his rueful expression. “Blisters, Joe? You’re too soft, man. This was your idea, remember.”

  Joe shook his head. “Too old, you mean and too set in my ways. My bones will be complaining for a week.”

  Edward reached for his own drink and stopped exactly the same way Joe had. He too winced as his muscles protested. “I think that makes two of us.”

  Mr.s. Reid tutted and frowned. “I’ll find some wool fat ointment for you two gentlemen as soon as you’ve eaten, unless you’d like it now?”

  “Food is what we need, Mr.s. Reid, Joe assured her, “and I see we are not going to be disappointed.”

  There wasn’t room for all of them at the big table but the men had brought in benches from the dairy and stools from who knew where. Everyone who had worked so hard in the fields that day had a hot meal and a place to sit while the thunder crashed around their heads and the lightning sent flickering fingers of white to pry through the shutters and the cracks around the door. Rain rolled in sheets from the thatch. Any hay still lying in the fields that day would be totally ruined.

  After a very few moments of awkward shuffling and furtive glances from the laborers, Edward ignored his aches and raised his tankard. “Here’s to the hay, to good food and good company. What are you all waiting for? Eat!”

  There was very little talk for a while as they all fell to clearing their plates, piled high with meat and potatoes, cabbage and carrots, succulent gravy and excellent bread with farmhouse butter. Alice realized just how hungry she was.

  Cherry pie with thick custard followed. At last they had all eaten enough.

  With all the horses safe in the stable block for the night and no sign of the storm abating, their hosts held a low conversation over at the side of the room. Mr. Reid came over to them. He looked worried.

  “There’s no getting back to The Priory in this, I’ll be thinking, Sir Edward. Your coachman would have to take the pair back, haul out your coach, pole them up and then get them back here, if they’d ever leave their stable again this night.”

  “What do you suggest then, Mr. Reid? Do you have room for all of us?”

  He looked even more anxious than before. “Not enough for a chamber each, sir and another one for the lady, too. Nor her mother isn’t here, either. The wife’s a bit worried about what Lady Sarah must be thinking. The boys can double up, but there’s still only the two spare chambers to be had.”

  “Two chambers are more than we expected, Mr. Reid. I was worrying myself about Miss Carstairs, but she can share with Cora. Captain Delacourt and I will manage in the other chamber and the men can sleep out in the barn on some of your fresh hay. Francis might object,” he grinned at the footman, “but I rather think he’ll sleep where his head hits the pillow.”

  “He’ll not be the only one,” Joe Delacourt agreed. I’m more than ready for a bed. Any bed. The floor will do.”

  “The floor?” Mr. Reid looked scandalized. “Nay, sir, there’s no need for that! We’d never think of such a thing. I’d give you my own bed first.”

  Joe laughed aloud. “Mr.s. Reid might well have some objections to that scheme! We’ll be fine, I assure you. We’re not some hothouse gentlemen, you know. Captain Ned and I have slept on beaches, on rotten straw and on worse in our time, mark my words. Have you ever tried to sleep in a longboat? It’s not an experience I would recommend.”

  The furrow on the farmer’s brow lifted slightly. “We can make you comfortable, sir. I was worried you wouldn’t like to be crowded.”

  The two captains exchanged a look. Remembering old times, obviously. Edward clapped him on the shoulder. “Remind me to tell you the story of how we once slept standing up. Now that’s what I would call crowded. Show us the way, if you please.”

  Alice wasn’t particularly enamored at the thought of sharing a bed with Cora, but in the event it wasn’t necessary. There was a couch to one side of their chamber, underneath the window. Cora settled there quite happily. Alice had to climb up two steps to reach the enormous old bed. She lay down in her shift and knew nothing more.

  They were a sorry sight to behold the next morning. Alice ached from head to foot. At least her blisters weren’t as bad as the red raw patches the men were sporting. Joe Delacourt winced each time he moved, despite Mr
.s. Reid’s best farmhouse remedies. Edward straightened gingerly as he rose from the breakfast table. Their coach was waiting for them. The servants were made of much sterner stuff. Cora hopped up on the box without a care in the world. Alice had to be helped up inside by Farmer Reid, all the while reassuring him that she felt perfectly well, honestly. They all breathed a sigh of relief as the coach pulled away. Now they could complain in privacy.

  “Joe,” Edward said. “The next time you have a clever idea, may I advise you to think it through more carefully?”

  “Ned,” Joe replied, inspecting his palm, “you were in charge of planning. Why didn’t you remind me to take my gloves?”

  Edward groaned. “Why didn’t I remember to take my gloves? Such fine soft gentlemen we’ve become.”

  Joe settled into gloom. “Aye, gentlemen. That’s our lot from now on. That’s the last excitement we’re likely to see for many a long year. Peace. Who’d have thought it? A pair of crusty old seadogs sitting by the fireside telling stories to anyone who will listen, that’ll be us.”

  “Yes, peace. It’s a strange word. But Napoleon’s not been caught yet, that we know of. There’ll be ships at sea that haven’t heard the news, too.”

  Cheered, the pair of them sat up straighter. Alice could only marvel. What was wrong with a bit of peace?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Barlow came into the morning room. In his hands he held a silver salver bearing a bulky letter.

  “Begging your pardon, Miss Alice. I understood the gentlemen were here. There’s a letter come from the admiralty.”

  At last it had happened. Alice stared at the letter as the blood rushed from her head. Napoleon lay not so very far from them, at Lyme Bay, on the Northumberland. Ships were being gathered to take him away, to the other side of the world. She felt faint. There was a roaring sound in her ears so loud she missed the rest of Barlow’s speech. She fumbled in her reticule for a handkerchief, desperate for something to do to hide the shaking in her limbs.