by Carla Kelly
She closed the window and climbed back in bed, amazed that it was possible to feel so good with her stomach rumbling for breakfast and her eyes still foggyfrom sleep. She folded her hands gently across her stomach and stared at the ceiling. “Hannah Whittier, thee is loved, truly thee is,” she whispered.
Someone knocked at the door. She knew it was too firm a knock for Mrs. Paige, and she gloried in that knowledge. “Oh, please come in. Captain Spark,” she said, sitting up and tucking the bedclothes demurely around her, even as she wondered if her hair was as unruly as she suspected.
He carried a tray with a teapot and two cups, and his eyes seemed even lighter against that pale blue background. He stood in the doorway, just looking at her until she put her hands to her hair.
“I know I am a fright, but thee needn’t stare so,” she said at last when he closed the door with his foot, his eyes still on her.
“Idiot,” he said, his voice unsteady as he put the tray on the table by the bed, sat down beside her, and took her in his arms without another word. In a moment he was lying next to her, his hands in her hair, smoothing it back even as he kissed her over and over, each kiss more insistent than the one before.
She could scarcely form thoughts in her mind as she kissed him back, beyond wanting to pull back the covers and invite him under them with her. She heard his shoes hit the floor and knew he had the same idea, but the sudden sound on the bare boards brought her around. She pushed herself away from him, even as her whole body cried out for him to come closer.
“Please stop,” she said.
“I don’t want to.”
“Stop anyway.” she insisted.
“Damn,” he said, and his voice was wistful as he caressed that curse into a loving epithet “Time is so short, Hannah, I hate to waste it.”
He didn’t move from her side, but flopped onto his stomach and turned his head to watch her. “Well, do you like your room?”
She nodded, her eyes delighted as she touched his back lightly at first, and then with a firmer gesture. He closed his eyes as she rubbed his back. ‘Thank thee for this room. I felt I was home,” she said finally when she stopped.
“That was my intention. I am an unscrupulous lover, Lady Amber, and don’t you forget it. I’ll do anything to keep you here.”
“You even took out the mirror,” she marveled. “How did you know?”
“Oh, it was something you said during those damnable midnight watches when you were telling me everything you knew, to keep me awake. I couldn’t find a rag rug for the floor, however.”
“How will I ever know what I look like?” she teased as he sat up and put on his shoes again.
He turned to her suddenly, his face more serious than she had ever seen him. “You can see yourself in my eyes, beloved,” he said, his voice soft. “I will be your mirror.”
“Then I will marry thee,” she said.
“Done, madam!” he shouted and grabbed her up from the bed, whirling her around. “You won’t go back on that?”
“I couldn’t,”ont> she said and stood on tiptoe for another kiss.
He hugged her so tightly that her ribs hurt. “No, I do not suppose you could,” he said. “Hannah. I love you, but God knows, this is not going to be an easy thing.” He took her by the hands and held her away from him, gazing at her with a light in his eyes that set her whole body tingling.
He led her to the windowseat, sat down, and patted the space beside him. “I suppose we always come back to your list, Miss Whittier.”
She smiled and touched his lips with her finger. “I do consider thy welfare above my own, or I never would have said yes.”
“Then I suppose there is nothing to do but write my solicitor and plot the next course, Lady Amber, which will involve some legal thrust and parry,” he said, leaning back against the window frame, never taking his eyes from her face.
She blushed. “Do not stare so, my love!” she protested.
“I cannot help myself,” be confessed. “I never thought that in the middle of war and national emergency, I would find my wife.” He broke his gaze finally and took her left hand in his, turning it over. “I may even have a diamond or an emerald suitable for an engagement ring.”
She drew her hand away. “No, none of that,” she said, her eyes wide with dismay. “We Friends do not hold with such fashion, Daniel. Nothing more than a plain gold band, if that, once we are wed.”
“It’s not enough for you,” he protested.
“It is more than enough,”an> she insisted, her voice firm, “just as this plain room suits me.”
He smiled finally, and touched her under the chin. “I never anticipated that a wife would be so economical!” He got to his feet and stretched. “Well, at least allow me one indulgence.”
“What?” she asked, her eyes merry.
“Let me have an engagement party within the week to introduce you to your neighbors.”
“Well ....”
“You need to know them, considering that you will be falling back on their society when I am gone.” He watched her face. “What, my love?” he asked, his voice gentle.
“Nothing,” she murmured, wondering at the chill that settled around her heart with his words so casually spoken, even as the window glass warned her back and promised a sunny day. “I suppose I am just hungry.”
He nodded. “Mrs. Paige has breakfast waiting for you. Get dressed and I will join you. Then it’s off to the bookroom to compose a letter to my solicitor.” He paused in the open door. “Mama will come into her own here, my love. No one plans a party better. Lively now.”
If Lady Spark was disappointed with her son’s news of his engagement and impending marriage, the carrot of a party dangled before her eyes took away any misgivings. “It will take two heads to have everything ready by Thursday.” She shook a warning finger at her son, who was finishing his coffee by the window and grinning at her. “That means Hannah is my property until this party is over! Now, go on to the bookroom and write your letters.”
Hannah was composing invitations in the bookroom as soon as luncheon was over and Daniel returned from the village. He scooped her out of the chair pulled up to the desk, sat down, and pulled her onto his lap as she shrieked and made a grab to hold the inkwell as it teetered over a completed invitation.
“Thee is a sore distraction,” she exclaimed as he moved the inkwell out of her reach and took the quill from her hand.
“Then pay some attention to me for a few minutes, Hannah!” he insisted, nuzzling her neck at that junction by her jaw where his lips seemed to fit so naturally. “Much better,” he said after a moment. He rested his chin on her shoulder. “I mailed that letter and also spoke to my solicitor here. He said that once we have that writ of chancery, we can even be married by special license, and waive the banns.”
She nodded, her eyes closed, and rested against him, wondering how it was that someone as hard and unyielding as Captain Spark on his quarterdeck could be so soft to lean upon.
“Do you suppose we can find a Quaker preacher to marry us?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Thee does not perfectly understand, Daniel. When I said I would marry thee, that also means that I am severing ties with my church. They will read me out of Meeting at home when my parents learn of this.”
Her quiet words hung in the silent room. Daniel got up and set her back in the chair, sitting on the edge of the desk so he could look at her, his face serious. “I had no idea, my love. You’re giving up everything you hold dear for me, aren’t you?”
She nodded, unable to speak for a moment. She composed herself, but could not look at him. “Now, if thee was to become a Friend someday, then we could be welcomed into Meeting again.”
He shook his head. “I do not think the Friends would have much patience with a man who deals in death.” He took her hand and kissed it. “I hope I am worth all this.”
“So do I,” she said and picked up the quill again.
The invitat
ions were mailed the following morning. Spark braved his mother’s threats to take Hannah with him in the gig to the village to post the letters.
“I promise to return her promptly,” he said as he dumped the invitations in Hannah’s lap and gathered up the reins.
“You had better,” Lady Spark insisted. “If we are to sit thirty at dinner tomorrow night, I need Hannah more than you do!”
“Thirty? Do I have that many friends in Dorset?” he teased. “Very well, Mama. If I had known what a lot of trouble this was going to be, we would have eloped to Scotland and married over the anvil!”
Lady Spark delivered such a stem look at her son that he shuddered elaborately when she was out of sight. “You’ll need to take a look in my bedroom and tell me what you want changed,” he said as they rode along. “I have an even better view of the sea, and the bed is wider.”
She blushed. “Does this mean I cannot keep my little room?”
“I was thinking it would make an excellent nursery.” Eyes on the narrow lane, he lifted her hand to his lips. “I do not plan to come home from sea and find you down the hall from my bed. God knows, as it is, I’ll be away from you too much to suit me without having to knock on your door when the mood strikes. There would be a regular trough the wood to your door.”
Thee needn’t be away from me at all, she thought as she settled against his shoulder. She looked at him to speak, but he shook his head. “I know what you’re going to say,” he said. “It doesn’t bear thinking on, because I will not leave the sea.”
The day passed quickly enough, following Lady Spark’s orders as she polished silver with Mrs. Paige, arranged autumn bouquets in vases, and accepted the replies that poured back from the invitations. Who are these people, she thought as she fingered the notes with their unfamiliar names. Will they like me? Will I be too quaint for them? If, as Daniel suspects, our countries will soon be at war, will they turn their backs on me? She gazed at the notes, a frown on her face, until Lady Spark dragged her away to another task.
It wasn’t until the house was quiet and the dowager was in bed with a headache that she found solace in Daniel’s arms. How is it, she thought as he held her close, that thee can kiss away my fears and leave me so shaky with love? She clung to him, knowing that the smallest gesture from him would send her over the top and into his bed without a single regard for everything she had been taught since childhood.
She spent a restless night more agitated than the one before and woke long before dawn, bleary-eyed and discontent. She sighed and tried to return to sleep, burrowing deep into the mattress and knowing that it was hopeless. She would only toss and turn, filled with desire and worry, until Daniel came into her room with tea and confidence enough for them both. She firmly resolved to be sitting in the window seat when he came in. The pleasure in his eyes on seeing her in the morning had been replaced by something much more intense now. There was a hunger in his gaze that made her gulp and hope the chancery writ would not be long in coming.
She heard a carriage on the gravel drive and got up, hurrying to the window to look out. It was the Spark carriage, and not the gig used for everyday trips into the village. As she watched out of curiosity, Mr. Paige carried out the new sea chest Daniel had bought the day before, and on which she had stenciled SPARK in large letters only last night.
“No,” she said out loud. Hardly darg to breathe, she threw on her clothes, ran a comb through her curly hair tousled from a night’s agitation, then hurried down the stairs without her shoes or stockings. “No,” she said again, louder this time, as she ran to the open door.
Daniel, dressed in his uniform, stood by the carriage, speaking to Mr. Futtrell. He looked at her with real delight and grasped her by the shoulders, nearly lifting her off the ground.
“My love, this is too famous! Mr. Futtrell brought such news last night after you went to bed.”
Futtrell, fully uniformed, tipped his tall hat to her. “We have a ship, Miss Whittier! A ship!”
She could think of nothing to say, but it did not matter. Spark was not listening or even looking at her. He spoke over her shoulder to Mrs. Paige. “When my other uniforms come from their alterations in the village, have them posted to the H.M.S. Clarion in Portsmouth harbor.” He picked Hannah up off the ground. “My darling, it is a commerce raider of the new Falmouth class!”
“There is a party tonight,” she reminded him, her voice subdued.
He set her down and grinned at her. “My orders say to report at once to oversee refitting, Hannah.” He turned away, his voice impatient with command. “Mr. Futtrell, do you have any idea how she handles under all sail?”
“Surely tomorrow would be soon enough,” she said, her back straight, her hands twisted tightly in front of her. He was not listening, and she repeated herse
“I couldn’t possibly wait that long, my dear,” he said and nodded to the coachman, who climbed into the box.
She stood in silence for a long moment, taking in the coach ready to travel, and the sun only just now coming over the horizon. “Daniel, you were going to leave without saying goodbye, weren’t you?”
“I left a note in the front hallway,” he replied as he opened the carriage door. “I’ll be back in a couple of weeks, when things are in order. We’ll have a few days before we sail for the blockade to get married.”
“You’re leaving me to face a houseful of guests tonight that I do not even know?”
“You’ll do fine,” he said carelessly. “Come, Mr. Futtrell. There’s not a moment to lose.”
She began to cry, the tears sliding down her cheeks. “I did not think thee was so heartless,” she gasped through her tears.
He took her arm then and pulled her close until they were chest to chest. “It’s war, my dear.” He kissed her hair. “Forgive me if I sound sentimental, but England sorely needs what I do best. The sooner I am back on the blockade, the sooner some other poor captain can put into port before he goes crazy with the strain.” He ruffled her hair. “But I’m only going now to get the revictualing started. I’ll be back before you know it.” He kissed her one more time and climbed into the carriage, closing the door behind him. The coachman snapped his whip and they were off down the lane.
She was still standing barefoot on the gravel drive when the sun rose and Mrs. Paige, her eyes filled with tears of her own, came out to help her inside.
Chapter Sixteen
Men are beasts, and my son is no exception,” was one of Lady Sharp’s few repeatable comments when Hannah threw herself into her before the sun was much higher and told her the bad news, choking back her tears. “Daniel only comes to go away. I would not wish him on a dog,” she said as she accepted a cup of tea from Mrs. Paige and indicated that the housekeeper should join them in a council of war.
“Well, Hannah, do we cancel?” she asked, her voice crisp with decision, when the tea was drunk down to the leaves.
Hannah took her gaze from her own bare toes to regard Lady Spark with something approaching affection. There was nothing of defeat in the dowager’s voice. If anything, her chin was raised higher than usual, and her lips pursed in a firmer line. It began to dawn on her that this was a woman for a crisis.
When Hannah said nothing, Lady Spark threw back the covers and hunted about for her slippers. “My dear girl, if you wish to break off your engagement to this supremely selfish man, I would not be surprised, but after all, we have prepared a wondrous amount of food, and I really can’t think any other man will ever treat you better, the male sex being what it is. Savages. I wonder why we submit so willingly to them. Well. Hannah? Are you a jellyfish or a woman?”
It was curious commentary, and Hannah smiled in spite of her misery.
“Come, come, dear girl, do you love that worthless Jack Tar or not?” Lady Spark demanded, sounding surprisingly like her absent son.
“Oh, I love him,” she said, and believed it with all her heart.
Lady Spark clapped her hands and nodded in triumph t
o Mrs. Paige. “Excellent! To celebrate that absurdity, I say we place an additional order for more of the most expensive smuggler’s champagne and make Daniel pay through the nose for his perfidy.”
Hannah laughed. “He can pay dearly for more cut flowers, too! I think I actually saw a few bare spaces in the dining room.”
Lady Spark embraced her for the first time. “Now you are thinking like a woman! Hannah Whittier, I believe you will be a credit to the Spark family name. Living extravagantly at the expense of men is always the best revenge! It really should be the motto on our family crest.”
Hannah let herself be swept along that day by Lady Spark’s curious energy. She hurried from task to task at the dowager’s command, and realized late in the afternoon as she dragged herself upstairs for a quick soak in the tin tub that Lady Spark had been making sure that she had not a spare second to repine. She twisted her hair high on her head and sank into the lemon-scented tub gratefully. I will be too tired when this evening is over to do anything but drop down dead into dreamless slumber, she thought as she scrubbed herself vigorously. “Thank you, my lady,” she said out loud, secure in her heart that she would have no difficulty loving her future mother-in-law, even if her own son did not.
While it was true that butterflies collided against each other in her stomach as she greeted the dinner guests, they soon settled down. No one was even slightly surprised at Daniel Spark’s absence. “We know seafarers, Miss Whittier,” the vicar explained to her as he grasped her hand in welcome. “I suppose at one time or other, half the females in my parish have been where you are.” He laughed and released her. “It only has come to you sooner than most! Let us blame Napoleon, but not let the beast of Corsica spoil our evening.”