The Piratical Miss Ravenhurst

by Louise Allen

  ‘Clemence.’ They stared at each other. He was exasperated with himself for his inability to explain this without hurting her, and under that he found he was hurting, too, far more than he would have believed possible for a man whose emotions had been cauterized seven years before. And Clemence, he knew perfectly well, was as upset as he, for her own reasons.

  She had been through enough. She did not deserve to find herself persuaded into marriage with a man she had come to trust and depend on, have her innocence disturbed by his lovemaking and then to be told she was alone after all, except for her important relatives, far away. Yes, of course she wanted to cling to him and the security that marriage, however inappropriate, would give her.

  ‘Nathan, please will you get off my bed and out of my bedroom? As it appears that I am not about to lose my virginity tonight, I would rather like to get some sleep.’

  In the face of that, there was not much else to do than fight his way out of the mosquito netting, find his shirt and shoes and remove himself. He sincerely hoped she was going to get more sleep than he expected to.

  It was all too much to take in, but one thing was clear: he had loved his wife and he blamed himself for her death.

  She had to be thankful they had not made love, Clemence told herself, staring at the indentation Nathan’s long body had made in the bedding. She was rich, she was eligible, she was well connected and those three highly desirable characteristics were enough to drive away the man she was in love with. Loved, she corrected herself.

  The marriage would not have taken place, of course; he would have discovered her name before that. She recalled, with a stab of guilt, that on the ship she had deliberately not told him who she was, afraid the temptation of such a hostage would be too much for the rogue she suspected he might be.

  What had just happened proved he was every bit as honourable as she could have hoped—and that very honour was stopping him marrying her. That and the fact that he did not love her, of course. It was important to remember that, to remember that he had offered only to protect her because, otherwise, surely he would have made that declaration?

  He had loved his wife. Did he love her still? Was the bitterness in his voice for her, for himself or for the man with whom he had fought that duel? What had happened to provoke that calamity?

  And what would Nathan have done if that conversation about Raven’s Hold had taken place after they had made love, not before? Would he have married her then?

  A high-pitched buzzing at last stirred her from her position against the bedpost. It took ten minutes to tuck in the net and to hunt the mosquito, by which time she was beyond tiredness, beyond even feeling miserable. Taking her remaining clothing off was too much trouble. Clemence curled up in the middle of the bed and sank into sleep.

  ‘Miss Clemence?’ It was Eliza. ‘It is eight o’clock. The gentlemen say they are sorry not to let you sleep longer, but they need to speak with you. They say, will you take breakfast with them?’

  This time Clemence had no trouble recalling where she was and why. She sat up, pushing her short hair back from her face, thankfully aware that a few hours’ sleep had restored her body and her wits to something like normal.

  Inside there was a dull ache of loss, but there was a bitter energy, too. She could not rely on anyone but herself, it seemed. So be it.

  She had only yesterday’s muslin to dress in, with salt-water stains around the hem and the marks of One-Eye’s affectionate slobbering on the skirts. That would need to be remedied and she would need to borrow the money, somehow, to send Eliza out shopping for her.

  Three men in naval uniform rose as she entered the shabby dining parlour at the front of the house. Nathan, a burly captain she seemed to recognise from somewhere and a tall lieutenant with a wide smile that suited his chubby face. Her eyes on the captain, Clemence made a slight curtsy. ‘Gentlemen.’

  She saw him glance at Nathan, then he seemed to realise he was being asked to take command of the introductions. ‘Captain James Melville of the Orion at your service, ma’am. This is Lieutenant Conroy. Captain Stanier you already know.’

  ‘Good morning.’ Clemence shook hands, forcing herself to allow her fingers to rest in Nathan’s grasp for a reasonable length of time. She sat beside Captain Melville, Mr Conroy opposite her and Nathan at the foot of the table, and managed a social smile. ‘I must thank you, Captain, for sending your men and the midshipman to rescue me last night.’

  ‘The least we could do, Miss Ravenhurst.’ Eliza came in with platters of fruit and meats and Melville broke off while she set out the food and put the tea and coffee pots by Clemence’s right hand.

  ‘Miss Ravenhurst, we have been joined by two other frigates and a cutter bearing orders for Orion to sail for England as soon as I have been able to hand over command of this operation to the senior officer commanding. Captain Stanier has apprised me of the deplorable actions of your uncle and I can only agree with him that the resources of the Ravenhursts would best bring this matter to a speedy conclusion. It is also of the first consideration to remove you from any danger and I understand that the Governor may take some persuading of this.’ He drank coffee, watching her over the rim of the cup to gauge her reaction. Clemence nodded.

  ‘It appears to us, therefore, that the sooner you can be united with your family in London, the better, ma’am.’

  ‘Indeed. If it had not been for my father’s death I would have sailed some weeks ago for a long-planned visit.’ Clemence ate, her attention on Melville. That way, despite her internal agitation, she could at least try to ignore Nathan’s silent presence at the end of the table.

  ‘It seems impossible to secure you passage on a merchantman, given the delicacy of your situation here.’ Melville passed her fruit and began to peel himself a pawpaw. ‘How soon could you and your maid be ready to sail on the Orion?’

  ‘On the frigate? I—’ Clemence made herself focus. ‘I do not know if Eliza will wish to make such a journey, she is a free woman; in fact, I do not know how she is able to be here, for she has another employer now.’

  ‘She tells me she has resigned her position and is willing to sail with you,’ Melville said. ‘What else is required?’

  ‘Clothes—every necessity, in fact,’ Clemence admitted. ‘And I have no money, I will need to borrow from somewhere before Eliza can shop for me.’

  ‘That we can take care of.’ Melville waved the difficulty away. ‘Conroy, you accompany Miss Ravenhurst’s maid—we do not want to place her in any difficulty if the Naismiths see her and realise what she is about.’

  ‘And we need to lay a land mine under the Naismiths,’ Nathan said, making her jump. ‘I suggest that while Eliza and Conroy are out, you, Miss Ravenhurst, write an account of all their actions following the death of your father, including their most recent imprisonment of you. Melville and Conroy will witness it and we will leave it with our agent here against the time the Ravenhursts’ lawyers take action.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, finding that she could meet his gaze and smile, after all. This was the man with whom she had nearly lain last night, this tall, distinguished, serious-looking officer. It did not seem possible. And then he smiled and she saw the rogue with the dice sitting in the dockside tavern who had made her feel safe in the middle of terror. The man whose look made her tremble and ache.

  ‘It will give you considerable satisfaction to be able to continue the campaign against the pirates with more ships, I imagine, Captain Stanier,’ she observed in her best drawing-room manner, accepting his empty cup to refill it.

  ‘It would do, Miss Ravenhurst, if I were not to be returning on the Orion,’ Nathan said, reaching with both hands to catch the cup as it slipped out of her suddenly nerveless fingers.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘Miss Ravenhurst, are you faint?’ Both Conroy and Melville were on their feet, looking at her anxiously. ‘You have gone quite pale,’ the captain continued, reaching for the bell.

  ‘No, n
ot at all. I thought I saw a centipede, over there, by the sideboard,’ she improvised. ‘They are venomous, you know. But I think I was mistaken.’

  Nathan’s hands were still cupped around hers. ‘Nothing spilled,’ he observed, lowering them after a moment.

  ‘No, indeed, not even milk,’ she joked, managing a smile for her own feeble wit. Nathan, on the Orion? To be with him on a frigate for six, perhaps eight weeks? She would not have to say goodbye to him for ever in a day or two—yet the painful pleasure of being close to him could only make that eventual parting worse.

  And the intimacy of their shared danger and deception aboard the Sea Scorpion, living with him, so closely—there would be none of that. Instead she would be under the scrutiny of others the entire time, having to treat him just as she would any of the other officers.

  ‘Are you sorry to be leaving the Jamaica station?’ she asked, handing him back his filled cup. ‘Do you know where you will be posted next? Or are you not to speak of such secrets?’

  ‘I must await their lordships’ command,’ Nathan said, so lightly that she suspected he was as uneasy about this development as she was. No wonder—he must have thought the difficulties she had brought him would be over within days.

  ‘You will excuse us, Miss Ravenhurst?’ Melville was on his feet. ‘Conroy will wait until your maid is ready to go out, but Stanier and I have to go on board. We will leave you to compose your statement in peace.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Clemence watched them go out, then heard the lieutenant talking to Eliza in the kitchen. She tried to think of all the things she would need for two months at sea, heading into a cooler climate. It would still be summer in England, late August perhaps, when they landed, but she had heard too many of her father’s tales of English summers to place any confidence in being able to manage with light lawns and fine silks until she could replenish her wardrobe.

  And where would the Ravenhursts be? she wondered. In England, so she understood, no one of fashion would remain in London during the summer. What would summer fashions in England be like? Would Nathan like her in a modish gown, perhaps following the latest French trend? Would he visit her, perhaps strolling beside some landscaped lake in a verdant English park, while the breeze blew cool and the flowers bloomed on the banks?

  ‘Shall we make a list, Miss Clemence?’

  ‘Oh, Eliza, you made me jump.’ And just in time, too. Of course he will not visit, he would not expect the exalted Ravenhursts to invite him. But he says he knows Cousin Gareth…‘I was wondering what on earth we will need, because it will be perhaps two months at sea and then English weather. You’ll need warmer things, too, and clothes for wet weather.’

  Eliza was bustling around, finding ink and paper, looking remarkably cheerful for someone about to be uprooted and sent across the oceans at about two days’ notice. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind coming with me?’

  The maid smiled. ‘Oh, no, Miss Clemence. I never thought I’d get such a chance. What an adventure!’

  When she and Lieutenant Conroy finally left, the house seemed eerily quiet save for the rumbling snores of One-Eye stretched in unaccustomed comfort on the hearth rug. The men had gone off, apparently without any fear that the Naismiths might find her. And of course, they were quite right and she was being foolish. She took up a penknife and began to sharpen her nib, telling herself firmly that daydreams about Nathan were equally foolish.

  The sound of footsteps in the hallway had her on her feet, the little knife clenched in her hand as the door opened. ‘Street!’ The cook looked abashed.

  ‘Sorry, Miss Clemence, I just came in to see if you was all right.’

  ‘I…I’m fine, thank you. I didn’t realise you were here, that’s all.’

  ‘Wondering if you can trust me, miss?’ He cocked an eyebrow at her, more like his old self despite the absence of his bloodstained apron and villainous meat cleaver. ‘I’m Mr Stanier’s man now. Saved my neck, he did. And you’re his lady.’ He grinned and it was as if she was back in the galley again. ‘Never thought young Clem would scrub up so well, miss, begging your pardon.’

  ‘Thank you, Street. But I’m not Captain Stanier’s lady, you know.’

  ‘What? Won’t he marry you? That’s bad, that is. He ought to—’

  ‘No, indeed, Street.’ The big man looked ready to march off and lecture Nathan on his responsibilities. ‘There’s absolutely no need for him to and I’m going to my relatives in England and they’ll look after me.’

  ‘If you say so, miss. I still think…’ In the face of her complete lack of response his voice trailed off. He looked at the hound, feet twitching as it chased rabbits in its sleep. ‘What you going to do with that when we sail, miss?’

  ‘He’s coming, too,’ Clemence said firmly, wondering how hard it would be to convince Captain Melville to house a large, elderly and, it had to be admitted, smelly hound in his smart frigate.

  The unfortunate Lieutenant Conroy escorted Eliza round every lady’s emporium in Kingston in an effort to spread her purchases and not cause gossip. Then, when he finally delivered her and a carriage-load of parcels back to the house, he found himself conscripted along with Street to wash One-Eye.

  ‘Street and I have tried,’ Clemence explained. ‘But it needs another man to get him into the hip bath.’

  ‘I can see that, ma’am,’ he said, rolling up his sleeves as One-Eye curled back a lip from the opposite side of the yard.

  ‘If I hold his collar, he won’t bite, but even Street couldn’t lift him when he struggled.’ She pushed the hair off her damp forehead while Eliza, clucking, went for another bucket of hot water, the tussle so far having emptied the bath.

  ‘Right,’ Conroy announced, advancing on the hound. ‘I’ve fought pirates and lived, I can do this.’

  Twenty minutes later the four humans were soaked and faintly hysterical with laughter while One-Eye, a paler shade of brown than Clemence could ever recall seeing him, was sulking in the scullery.

  ‘Oh, dear, look at you, Lieutenant!’ Clemence handed him a towel while Eliza and Street carried the bath back inside. ‘And you haven’t got a clean shirt with you. Never mind, we’ll sit here in the sunshine and dry off.’

  ‘Miss Ravenhurst.’

  There was no reason why she should feel guilty to be discovered, flushed and smiling, sitting next to a good-looking young man in a sopping wet shirt that clung in a most becoming manner to his torso. Indeed, there was nothing in Nathan’s tone or expression to make her feel so. But it did.

  It appeared to work powerfully on Conroy, too, who was on his feet, reaching for his coat, despite the state of his shirt.

  ‘Sir! Bathing the dog, sir.’

  ‘Indeed? That required both of you to get in the bath with it?’

  Clemence glared, embarrassed, cross with herself for being so, and with Nathan for making her feel that way. ‘Yes. Actually, it required four of us to get completely soaked, but at least I will not be taking a dirty dog on to Captain Melville’s frigate.’

  ‘Or at all, I imagine.’

  ‘One-Eye goes, or I do not.’ The old hound and Eliza were all she could take of Jamaica into her new life and she wanted them both, she realised.

  ‘I’ll be getting back to the ship, ma’am, if you don’t need me any more?’ If a naval officer could be said to sidle out of a gate, the lieutenant was managing it now.

  ‘Thank you so much, Mr Conroy,’ Clemence said with warmth. ‘I am sure Mr Stanier will be joining you directly.’

  Nathan waited until the other man was out of earshot, his arms folded across his chest. ‘You are not Clem now, you must not indulge in that sort of behaviour.’

  ‘What sort?’ Clemence folded her own arms just as assertively. ‘If Eliza and I had been bathing the dog with only Street to help us, you wouldn’t have said a thing. Simply because Mr Conroy is an attractive man, you react like my brother. Well, you are not.’

  ‘I am well aware of that! Clemence, you have your
reputation to think of now.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ she snapped. ‘I can dress as a boy, run away to join the pirates and sleep for nights with a man and yet my smart relatives can magic all that away, according to you. I am sure mixed dog washing can be excused as a very minor sin for the rich, well-connected Miss Ravenhurst.’

  ‘Just because I will not marry you does not mean you have to start flirting with every young man you come into contact with! Wait until you get to London and the chaperonage of one of your aunts, at least.’

  Clemence was not quite certain which part of that comprehensively inflammatory statement she most took exception to. She closed the four-foot gap between them, index finger extended. ‘If you are suggesting that I am flirting with Lieutenant Conroy—’ prod ‘—because my nose is out of joint—’ prod ‘—because you will not marry me, Nathan Stanier—’ prod ‘—then you have a more swollen head than I could have imagined!’

  He grabbed her hand and held it an inch away from his chest. ‘I am suggesting that you are unused to not getting your own way, Miss Ravenhurst, and that you want to show me that you do not care that I am taking a more mature view of this.’

  ‘Mature?’ Clemence drew in a long, shuddering breath. ‘We are back to my age again, are we? Might I point out that a mature response on your part would be to ignore a perfectly normal episode of domestic life and avoid embarrassing poor Mr Conroy.’ Nathan’s face darkened in a most satisfactory manner, so she cast around for oil to throw on the flames. ‘Of course, I appreciate that your temper will be uncertain this morning after last night’s frustrations.’