“Tomorrow, you are to be wed,” said Sir Richard, putting his hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “The weeks have flown since you threw us all into confusion with your announcement.”
“Indeed they have.” Edward turned to his cousin. “When are you to follow me to the altar, Richard?”
“Ah! When? Laura has promised to name the day very soon.” He did not meet Edward’s eyes, as he laughed self-consciously, saying, “Then I will be the happiest of men!”
Edward was silent, puzzled by something in his cousin’s expression—his beaming smile looked rigid and his forehead creased with a slight frown.
Sir Richard cleared his throat and said, too loudly, “I cannot tell another bridegroom that I am the happiest! Ha! Ha!”
Edward put his hand on Sir Richard’s shoulder. “My dear fellow, you do not …?” His voice trailed off.
“Not in the least!” Sir Richard blushed. “At least, I don’t know what you were going to say.”
The captain could not speak for a moment. Then he said, “I cannot express my gratitude to you.”
“Nay … nay … Speak not of gratitude. Let us pay full honour to Laura.”
Edward nodded. “Then good night, Richard.”
“Yes, indeed. Good night.”
Edward went back into the house and slowly mounted the stairs. His question hung in his mind as it had hung in the air between them. Instinctively he felt that Richard regretted his engagement. Yet there could be no withdrawing from it—the gossip would be the destruction of what was left of his sister’s pride.
Damnation, he thought. We pushed them into it. I always believed that Richard loved her—in his quiet, passionless way.
He went into his room and stood musing as his valet, half-yawning, helped him off with his coat.
“Go to bed now, you poor fellow. I meant to tell you not to wait up for me.”
The servant hung up the jacket and left the room.
Edward stood at the window and stared out into the night.
What a success Laura had been at the ball! It was plain that all in the district were eager to see her installed as mistress of Oakmont. He thought for a moment about Laura’s past predicament. Ever since she was got away from Lyme, nothing untoward had occurred. The servants thought she saw a ghost—but it turned out that she was merely musing. She mistook Mr. Woodruff for Mr. Templeton in the Hollow—and Jenner had explained that as commonplace. Elspeth had mentioned a sketch that Laura had forgotten she had torn up, or some such thing. Yet he was beginning to see that Elspeth was swayed by motives of her own.
No, he thought, in Lyme, Laura’s sense of what is real abandoned her; but here at Oakmont, she is safe.
Edward looked out on the sloping meadow, silvery in the moonlight. All is well, he thought.
Before his eyes, his favourite image of Evalina arose—of when he saw her in the woods at Lewton Hall. How his heart had leapt at the sight of her! Young, beautiful and ardent as she was, she loved him. Before he encountered her, his laughter had become hollow and his feelings worn out. Now she gave him back all the pride and optimism he had lost in the war. Not one marriage in twenty, he believed, began with such a passionate yearning to be together.
CHAPTER 32
JANE WAS DRESSING FOR HER sister’s wedding, with a maid putting the last touches to her hair, when she heard the stone rattle on her window. Her brother stood in the shrubbery below. She opened the window.
“Jane, Jane!” he called, in a dramatic whisper. “I can’t bear to miss Evvy’s wedding. What will the old brute do, think you?”
“He waits only for your apology, you silly boy,” she said.
“What? He won’t thrash me, then?”
“You fool! You almost broke my mother’s heart.”
His face fell. “God, yes—Mother. It’s been simply awful, Jane. I had to work at a desk all the livelong day.”
“Go around to the front door, Jeremy. Someone is sure to see you.” She shut the window.
The colonel sat in an armchair, gazing at the fire. The same thoughts went round and round in his head. How can I take pleasure in Evvy’s wedding without that fool of a boy by my side? Ungrateful cur! At his age, did I have my hand out for money from my father? No! Did I speak to him with disrespect? No! Life’s not the same—there’s no pleasure in it without him—my heir. Poor boy, working at a desk for a barrister!—Well, he deserves worse! The wretch!
“Father!”
The colonel looked up. His son stood in the doorway.
“I’ve come to say I am very sorry, sir, for the way I addressed you.”
The colonel did not reply; his chin wobbled a little.
Jeremy advanced a few steps. “I spoke in a disrespectful manner, sir, and I hope you can forgive me.”
The colonel swallowed. “Do you own yourself to be wrong in your views?”
“I should never have spoken to you in that manner, sir, so bold and impertinent and in the presence of others. For this I beg your pardon.”
The colonel grunted. “And?”
“Well, I have much to be grateful for and I haven’t always expressed it well—or perhaps at all. I thank you, Father, for everything.”
“And?”
Jeremy paused. How quickly it might all be over if he agreed. Yet—would it be fair to Jane? He must have known his next words could throw all away. Could he risk being back at his desk, toiling dully six days a week, hoping one day to find himself on his feet in court—making speeches instead of copying them out; being quoted in the court records instead of combing through them?
He took a deep breath. “Jane has been in love now, these four years. I don’t see how she can be happy with anyone but this missionary fellow.”
He waited for the explosion of rage but it didn’t come.
Instead, his father said, “I don’t want my child marrying a man who goes among the heathens, trying to bring ’em to our ways. If he were an officer, now, or a high-ranking official, that would be different.” He slumped tiredly. “She’ll wear herself out and die of a fever. But every six months he writes me the same letter, and every six months she refuses to repudiate him. I am tired of it.”
Jeremy stared. “You mean …?”
“If she wants to be a fool, I’ll stand in her way no longer.”
Jeremy beamed. “May I see Evalina married today?”
“Not in those clothes, young sir. Go and dress yourself properly for church—your room is just as it was.”
The wedding took place in the little church at Lewton. Sir Richard was groomsman, and, in his stooped plainness, it must be said that he offered a contrast in the bridegroom’s favour. When the bride took her place by his side, Edward touched her hand and found it shaking. Evalina could not raise her eyes to his, but he knew she was happy despite her nerves, and a joyful smile lit his handsome features.
The vicar faced the congregation.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God …”
Laura’s own feelings were somewhat numb. She was happy for Edward, certainly, but the occasion reminded her too sharply of her recent promise, signed and sealed. All too soon, she would stand before the altar in the church at St Austell, but with what feelings?
She noticed that Mrs. Bell, seated beside her, fumbled in her reticule, bringing out a handkerchief. Laura saw the tears in Mrs. Bell’s eyes. Was the lady recalling her own marriage, celebrated quietly, perhaps, in an empty church, with bride and groom in their faded best? Laura gave herself a silent reprimand for mawkishness.
After a breakfast for the relations at Lewton Hall, the newlyweds departed, white ribbons fluttering on the carriage.
With many compliments and good wishes to her new relations, Elspeth signalled their departure. There were four ladies in the barouche, the countess and Elspeth on the forward-facing seat. There was room for one more between Mrs. Bell and Laura. The baronet gulped on imagining himself seated between those particular ladies, and climbed up onto the
box instead.
“Would you wish to take the reins, Sir Richard?” said the coachman.
“Indeed I would. I haven’t driven a coach in I don’t know how long.”
Sir Richard hoisted himself up on the box beside the coachman and conveyed the ladies back to Oakmont.
Over the next two days, the mood deadened at the manor. On Sunday they dined in heavy solemnity. Even the countess could not expel the air of gloom that had settled over the household, particularly infecting the baronet and his intended.
In the drawing room, her ladyship had a quiet conversation with Mrs. Evans.
“Let us away to Clarydon, my dear.”
“There is something ill in the air here, I know. It was always the dullest place on earth.”
“I will hear no criticism of Oakmont. But my poor Ding Dong weeps into her cup of morning chocolate; I can hardly bear to look at her.”
“Can you not send her away?” Elspeth looked around to make sure she was not overheard. “I dare not risk taking my sister from this place.”
The countess laughed. “The barnonet’s neighbours all but wiped the floor with their foreheads before her at the ball.”
“Yes, but do you not see how she cringes at his slightest touch on her hand.”
“A change of scene is all she needs.”
“You think so?”
“Of course. A day or two away from him and she will set the wedding date at once.”
When the baronet joined them, Lady Clarydon invited the whole party to come with her to Clarydon Castle, where his lordship was suddenly awaiting her with impatience.
Elspeth clapped her hands. “I am sure my sister is honoured to be included in the invitation, your ladyship.” She looked significantly at Laura.
“I have heard much of the beauties of the place,” said Laura, feeling little desire to see them for herself.
“You will be drawing to your heart’s content,” said Elspeth. “There is nothing like a change of air to enthuse one to … who knows what?”
Laura did not reply.
“We will be a small party,” said the countess, “but there will be amusement enough.”
“It is not often that the baronet can be lured from home,” said Elspeth.
“I shall be very honoured to accept the invitation,” Sir Richard said, surprising himself and the ladies.
“Then all are agreed,” said the countess.
“We ought to farewell the Woodruff family before we go,” said Laura.
Mrs. Evans blew her a little kiss. “You go to them, my love. I shall write them such a letter as they will think a visit superfluous,” she said.
At Lewton Hall, Laura found the household in feverish preparations for departure. The mysteries of the letter from India, and Mr. Woodruff’s brief banishment were revealed. A new Jane Woodruff greeted Laura: her face was lit up with joy. Her every movement, graceful as ever, was alight with a youthful optimism that had seemed lost.
“I have at last what I have prayed for!” she said. “I would have liked to tell you of my attachment before but all such confidence was impossible, with my father’s opposition.”
“I would not expect to hear of a matter so private.” Laura smiled. “I cannot pretend to having had no curiosity at all.”
Jane laughed. “I never thought to see Jeremy defy my father—and on my account.”
“You will not be here when I return—in three or four months.” This was the closest reference she had yet made to her own marriage.
“I leave in two weeks, as a lady of my mother’s acquaintance is rejoining her husband in Calcutta and will be able to chaperone me on the voyage.”
“So soon?” How Laura had relied upon Miss Woodruff’s friendship! “When will you return?”
“Mr. Preston has no expectation of returning for at least six years. We will then go to the north, to the parish held for him there.”
“Oh.” Laura felt a soft, dark sadness settle upon her. “I will miss you,” she said.
“I think you will find pleasures to fill your days very well but I will miss your society.”
“One cannot have everything,” said Laura.
“That would not be good for us. Yet to have the love of an excellent man must compensate us for the little losses.”
“How true,” said Laura.
CHAPTER 33
The first thing he knew was the reddish light of the sun through his eyelids and he winced at the sharpness of it.
“Captain?”
He made a great effort and his eyelids flickered.
“Hurry! He wakes.”
Edward became aware that the clamour had died. In the hush came the eerie scraping of metal on metal. He opened his eyes. His vision blurred. Who was that among the crowd of men? He blinked, and saw a midshipman, young Bedford, had his hands half-covering his face, as his shoulders heaved.
Edward could not think straight. Was that strange pain in his arm? He turned to see and felt hands clasped firmly on the sides of his head, preventing him.
He forced his eyes up, wincing against the sting of the sun, and saw the tri-colour flapping still at the top of the mast.
“Lower it.”
“Lower the frog ensign!” cried the boatswain.
Edward watched its descent, smiling slightly at the cheer that went up. His eyes watered at the effort of staying open as the flag of His Majesty’s Navy was hoisted up. A great roar went up, echoed by the crew who watched from the Capricornia alongside.
He was drifting away from them, eyes closed. “Mitchell?” he said.
“Yes, Captain. I am here.”
“Tell Charlotte …”
“You can tell her yourself.” Mitchell’s voice lacked conviction.
The fumes of whisky stung Edward’s nostrils. He felt the bottle placed at his lips, and the spirits poured half in, half out of his mouth. He gagged.
“Lift his head more,” came the surgeon’s voice.
Edward felt his head raised a little and his mouth filled with whisky, and again, and again.
“Is it good and sharp?” said the doctor.
“Aye, it is.”
The captain felt pressure more than the ache of the tourniquet tightening around his bicep. He was beyond pain.
The bottle was withdrawn and Edward opened his eyes a crack. The boatswain, he thought, he couldn’t be sure, lifted the leather gag, and it was between Edward’s teeth. He bit down. He felt the weight come down on the right side of his chest, as Mitchell knelt on him. For a second, he looked up, at a blurred view of the sun glinting on the knife.
He screamed and his voice came out not muffled by any cloth.
A rasping sound. He screamed again.
He was half-sitting in the bed, sweat dripping from him.
“Edward, what is it?”
“What? Who?”
He felt her arms go around him, as she knelt in the bed. Evalina!
“My God—I haven’t dreamt of it in months.” Unthinking, he touched the healed stump of his arm.
“Evalina! Forgive me.”
“You ask forgiveness for having a nightmare, Edward!” She had drawn him close to her, so that some of his weight was taken on her slender frame.
“I must have given you a dreadful shock, my darling girl.”
“I am not a baby, Edward.”
“It is my duty to protect you from fear, not to create it.”
“Hush.” She stopped his lips with her own. “What was my fright to what you must have felt.”
“It was nothing much,” he said, beginning to laugh.
They collapsed back upon the pillows.
“Do you know Fanny Charman asked First Lieutenant Mitchell about … that day and he said you did not even cry out. This has made a splendid impression upon her.”
He laughed then, in earnest. “You know that I was gagged.”
“Of course I do, but don’t imagine that I told Miss Charman so.”
She smiled to herself
in the darkness. Some day she would tell Edward of the conversation she had with her father, after they first made the captain’s acquaintance. She had asked the colonel if he thought the captain very brave. He had said “Bravery is nothing. Courage is the thing. When you are afraid and still you do not flinch—that is courage.” She asked him then did he think the captain had been afraid when he knew that the surgeon must remove his injured arm. “Are you mad, Evvy? He has a brain! Still, I heard that even as they prepared the knife, he smiled at the lowering of the French flag.” Silly Papa, she thought. He should not have talked so of Edward if he wanted her to marry the cousin.
“Edward?” she said. “When will Laura marry your cousin?”
“Soon. I hope.”
“Do you think they will be as happy as we are?”
“Nobody else can be so happy.”
She laughed, gratified, and kissed him. She snuggled into his shoulder and felt her eyelids droop. In a matter of a moment or two, she slept.
Edward lay awake for a little longer. Throughout the war, he would leap across to another deck, sword raised ready to strike, feeling no fear of the weapons in the hands of his foes. He felt only a gulp of surprise when he saw the French sailor come from behind with cutlass raised.
Yet that terror, when he swam out of unconsciousness to see the surgeon’s knife glinting, was something he had wanted to keep from Evalina. Almost without knowing it, he had feared the lessening of Evalina’s love should she discover him capable of fear.
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