Vision in Blue

by Nicole Byrd

  “But?” Louisa prompted, her eyes gleaming with vicarious delight at this unexpected discovery.

  “But he hesitates, not wishing to disgrace his own family by . . . by . . .” She found that she could not finish the sentence.

  “By engaging himself to a woman whose birth might be—Oh, Gemma, I am so sorry,” Louisa blurted.

  Gemma blinked hard. She would not reveal how the stigma of her unknown parentage haunted her. “I must discover who I am,” she declared, her voice strained. “I am determined to know, once and for all, if I have the right to even think of marrying a gentleman, or if I should simply hire myself out as a serving maid and be done with it!”

  The force of her declaration startled them both. But the frustration, the anxiety, perhaps even the anger at Fate for leaving her fixed in such an uncertain state had been building inside her for years. Gemma sighed deeply as Louisa stared at her with wide eyes. “So, that is why I took such a dangerous and foolish risk today. I simply have to know.”

  “And you did not learn anything useful? Oh, Gemma, I am truly sorry. But you have the letter from your mother. You will learn all when Lord Gabriel comes to town, and surely, it will be soon. I pray so, for both our sakes,” Louisa suggested.

  Gemma tried to appear as hopeful as her friend. “If he agrees to see me and admits that I could be his relation,” she murmured. “I hope so, Louisa.”

  “I am sure he will help you. No one could be so cruel as to deny you knowledge of your own family. And he will be pleased to see how ladylike and personable you are. I am sure of it,” Louisa predicted.

  She stood up, pausing to give Gemma an impulsive hug. Gemma tried not to wince. “I will leave you. Try to get some sleep; it has surely been a most fatiguing day. Perhaps tomorrow you will hear from your brother.”

  Gemma wished she could be as sanguine. “Perhaps,” she agreed, too tired to argue. And Louisa’s good wishes, even if excessively optimistic, were comforting. Still, as Louisa left quietly, shutting the bedroom door behind her, Gemma was sure that with all her inner uncertainties, she would not sleep a wink.

  But somehow, as she curled up beneath the bed covers, she remembered how it had felt to press herself against the hard-muscled torso of Captain Fallon and how much strength the man seemed to project. When she was inside his arm—

  Gemma had never been embraced by a man, not like that. Arnold had been very punctilious in his courtship, afraid perhaps to go too far when he was not yet sure if he could—in fairness to his own family’s honor as he had carefully explained—offer for her hand. So although they had gone for long walks accompanied by Arnold’s sister Elizabeth, and he had bowed over Gemma’s hand, they had not yet even kissed.

  Would Matthew Fallon have held himself back so carefully if he had been the man who cared for her? Gemma remembered his easy strength and the intensity of those cool gray eyes. Captain Fallon was capable of passion, she had no doubt of it. Not that it would be for her, of course. Whatever had brought him to the foundling home, it had nothing to do with Gemma.

  She should not be thinking of him at all. She was almost, if all went well, betrothed. But somehow, instead of conjuring up memories of Arnold Cuthbertson as she knew she should, her thoughts lingered on the stranger with whom she had shared the jolting ride home. Even the recollection of their brief and illusory closeness seemed to comfort her, and despite her aches, she drifted into sleep.

  Six

  Gemma woke early, blinking at the pale sunlight slipping past the draperies and wondering why she felt a sense of anticipation. Of course, Captain Fallon was coming, or she prayed he would keep his agreement and come, and he would bring the ledgers. And if only she could find some information within them, her life could change, and she would be free to be courted like any normal girl. She would even be better prepared to meet Lord Gabriel, Gemma told herself, if she were not totally ignorant of her own background. She would not be merely a petitioner with nothing to offer, the beggar-girl soliciting the lord.

  When Lily appeared with a cup of tea, Gemma sat up in her bed, thinking hard as she sipped the hot liquid. If the captain did not return, she would scour London for him, she told herself. Mind you, he had given her his word that he would come. She only hoped it—and he—could be trusted.

  When Lily returned with a ewer of warm water, Gemma rose, washed, and dressed. Her rose-pink muslin was a tiny bit faded, but Lily had pressed it carefully, and it looked quite presentable, surely respectable enough in which to meet the mysterious gentleman who might help her solve some of the puzzle that had plagued her for years.

  At the breakfast table, she and Louisa had a quiet, most civil argument.

  “But if you think he will return, then I can put off my shopping till later in the day. I should stay and play chaperone, Gemma,” Louisa protested. “It would not do to leave you alone with a gentleman caller.”

  “There will be servants all about; that is not alone, precisely,” Gemma shot back. “And I fear he will not be forthcoming if someone else is present. I must have his candid explanation.” And how would she explain the ledgers to Louisa? “No, you and Miss P should go on with your shopping, as you had planned.”

  Louisa took a delicate bite of toast and sighed. “I suppose if you feel the need, you can always call Lily down to sit with you.” Lowering her voice, she added, “I would not wish you to disgrace yourself, in case you should be overcome by his manly charms.”

  “I should never—” Gemma hoped she was not blushing. Their intimate ride—then she glanced at her hostess and recognized the gleam of mischief in her eyes. “You imp,” she whispered so that the footman standing at attention beside the buffet would not hear. “Take care. I shall suggest to Sir Lucas that you are too eager to appreciate the allurement of a good-looking man encountered in a hat shop—”

  “You wouldn’t!” Louisa raised her brows in alarm.

  “Of course I wouldn’t,” Gemma agreed. She took a bite of her sausage and smiled sweetly.

  Louisa shrugged. “Oh, very well. I shan’t tease you. But if he comes, I do expect to hear all the particulars.”

  “Of course,” Gemma agreed, though she kept her thoughts to herself.

  So Louisa and Miss Pomshack set out for an extended shopping excursion, and Louisa retired to the drawing room, where she paced up and down, glancing between the mantel clock and the window that overlooked the street outside.

  Would he come?

  Fortunately for the state of her nerves, it was still four minutes before ten when she heard a decisive rap at the front door. Heart beating fast, she faced the doorway. In another minute she heard the murmur of voices and footsteps on the staircase, then the footman appeared and announced, “Captain Fallon to see you, Miss Smith.”

  And the captain was carrying a neatly wrapped parcel! She dipped a polite curtsy as he bowed, then she motioned to a chair.

  “Thank you for coming,” she said, and she meant the simple civility with all her heart.

  He unwrapped the bulky package and she could see the stack of ledgers. But his expression was sober. “I sat up a good part of the night perusing them, but I did not find what I sought.”

  His disappointment was obviously heavy. Gemma felt a flicker of alarm. “There is no list of students?”

  “There is, but only the name is noted, with the date the girl came to the school and the date she left. No mention of where she departed to,” he said, his voice grim.

  “Or from whence she came,” Gemma mused aloud, feeling her heart sink.

  He selected one of the books and opened its faded cover. Gemma stared at the listing, swallowing against her disappointment.

  “Who are you searching for?” she asked as she skimmed the names.

  “My sister,” he said.

  “How—” She looked up in time to see the pain cross his face. “No, pardon me. I should not be asking such a personal question.”

  He turned away from her for a moment and put one hand on the man
telpiece as he gazed down at the fire. She suspected he was seeing something other than the crackling flames. While she continued to stare at his square shoulders and well-shaped form, he answered slowly.

  “I was away at sea, you understand. My mother was a widow with limited funds, and we had no land of our own. Ironically, that was one of the reasons I went into the navy. I had no money with which to buy a commission in the army, and at sea there was the possibility of prize money from captured enemy vessels, which would help me make my fortune and thus keep my mother and sister safe. One of our neighbors helped me obtain a place at the Royal Naval Academy at Portsmouth, and I went to a ship when I was just a lad. In time, I was fortunate enough to rise in rank.”

  She suspected it was more than good fortune that had elevated him to a captaincy, but she did not wish to break his narrative. From the tenseness of his back, she knew it must be hard for him to tell this story.

  “I sent money home regularly to a solicitor named Temming, whom I had charged with looking out for my family and conveying the funds safely to them. When I stopped getting letters from my sister—my mother had a disabling condition of her hands that made writing hard for her—I worried, but Temming wrote that all was well, and my sister was no doubt too busy at school to attend to her letters. I was hurt that Clarissa would forget me as she grew older, but I also knew that mail was often delayed and delivery uncertain when one is at sea, so I tried not to worry.”

  A coal popped in the fire, and he paused. Gemma held her breath, anticipating the bad tidings that deepened his voice when he continued.

  “Not until I had a much-delayed letter from a neighbor sending me sympathies on my mother’s death did I realize something was very wrong. And even then, I was hundreds of miles away, and it was months more before I could be released from my military duties and resign my commission. When I returned, I made all haste for my mother’s home, only to find it sold, my mother in the local graveyard and”—he cleared his throat—“and no sign of my sister.”

  “Oh, how dreadful,” Gemma whispered. “And you think she was sent to the foundling home?”

  He drew a deep breath. “After questioning most of the village with little effect, I returned to London and sought out the man Temming. But someone must have warned him. The address I had written to for years is now untenanted, and I can find no one who will admit to knowledge of his whereabouts.”

  He turned, and the look on his face made Gemma shiver. She could almost have sympathy for the wretched man if Captain Fallon ever caught up with him.

  “I searched his abandoned office, and in his files I found a letter from the matron of the foundling home that hinted at business between them. So I went at once to the home, but Mrs. Craigmore refused to tell me anything. She would not even admit that my sister had been sent to her, and Clarissa is certainly not there now. I forced them to allow me to see all the girls, small to large, currently in their charge.”

  “So you went back, unannounced.” Gemma’s thoughts had darted ahead, even as she winced for his pain and for his sister’s possible danger. “And that was when I encountered you.”

  “I apologize for frightening you.” He met her gaze directly, his gray eyes clear and as determined as ever. “But at first I assumed you were a teacher or assistant matron at the home, and I could not have the staff alerted to my presence.”

  Gemma nodded. “You did alarm me,” she agreed. “But considering the urgency of your errand, I forgive you.”

  “And you were indeed in their charge?” He crossed back to sit down in the chair opposite her. “Having spoken to the matron, you have my sympathy. Do you know anything of how and under what conditions the older girls are discharged from the home?”

  Gemma thought hard but was forced to shake her head. She saw his expression of disappointment. “I’m sorry. I was only five when I was taken there after the death of my guardian, and a little over a year later, I was sent away again, under conditions that are not clear to me.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “To a girls’ boarding school, where conditions were much more humane, and I was given a reasonable education.”

  “So why did you return to the foundling home?” Captain Fallon demanded. “I cannot imagine it was out of desire to see the place again.”

  Gemma shivered. “No, indeed. Like you, I wanted information, which the staff was not willing to share with me.”

  She paused for a moment. He had been candid with her, and she felt she owed him honesty in return. “You understand, I tell you in confidence.”

  “Of course.”

  “I do not know who my parents are, Captain Fallon. But after I left the foundling home, someone paid for my schooling.” It was her turn to look away from his searching gaze. “I thought the matron might know something of my background. This is why I was seeking out her ledgers; I thought she might have included private information in them.”

  She risked a quick glance up and thought that his gaze softened. “Then you have my compassion, as well,” he told her.

  Gemma sighed. “I am disappointed, but at least I am not in imminent peril, as you must fear your sister could be. What shall you do now?”

  “I will continue to search for her. If I have to choke the information out of the matron, even though she claims to have no memory of Clarissa, I will do it.”

  Gemma watched him in concern as he paced back and forth across the rug. “It will not help your sister if you are taken up before the magistrates and thrown into prison,” she pointed out, though she kept her tone gentle. “Let me help you, Captain.”

  “How?” He turned back to examine her with his searching gaze.

  Gemma thought. Her offer had been an impulse, but it felt right. “I still have unanswered questions, as well. If we work together, perhaps we can go further than if we both forge ahead alone. To start with, I will give you the address of the solicitor who took me away from the home. He might have some knowledge that would help you.”

  She turned to the desk and wrote down Mr. Peevey’s name and location. “He knows more than he will tell me about my father because, he says, he is bound by oaths of secrecy. But at least he might have more information about Mrs. Craigmore, and if so, surely, he would be free to tell you about her history. He might also know something about Mr. Temming, since their calling is the same.”

  It was hard to read his expression, but something of the pain in the cool gray eyes might have eased. “It is good of you to offer your assistance.”

  “Whatever peril your sister may be in, and I pray it is not as fearsome as your brotherly concern leads you to believe, it might just as well have been I facing the same jeopardy,” she told him. “I have every sympathy for her. We shall find her, Captain Fallon.”

  She held out the slip of paper, and as he reached for it, he surprised her by taking her hand for a moment. His grip was just as strong as she remembered, though this time, it did not appear deadly.

  “Thank you, Miss Smith.”

  Gemma felt the leap of response inside her and hoped that she was not blushing. She looked up into those enigmatic gray eyes, as hard to read as the murky oceans he had once sailed, and thought what strength he had, and what compassion for the sister for whom he felt responsible. If only Lord Gabriel would reveal such brotherly concern!

  Nevertheless, the feelings she felt just now for the captain were not at all sisterly. She felt the warmth of his ungloved hand as it clasped her own and saw the pulse jump in his temple. He was standing so close that again she had a faint impression of the scents of soap and clean linen and something else that might simply be male flesh, a faint and pleasing smell singularly his own. She felt a curious sense of turmoil in her belly, and she found she had somehow forgotten to breath. For an endless moment, he continued to hold her hand, and the silence stretched. Then a coal popped in the fire, and a wagon lumbered by on the street outside, its driver yelling and lashing a whip at the dray horses that labored to pull it.
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br />   He dropped her hand and bowed, effectively concealing his expression. Was he as confused, as confounded, as she? Feeling as if she had been suspended underwater and was just now emerging for air, Gemma drew a long breath as she made her answering curtsy.

  “I shall seek out your solicitor,” the captain said. Was it her imagination or was his tone more wooden, this time? He seemed to avoid her eyes.

  “Let me know if you find out anything useful,” she said quickly.

  “I will. I shall leave the ledgers with you, in case you can discover some detail which I missed. Guard them well; they might yet prove useful to us.”

  “I will,” she agreed.

  “We will talk again soon.” Then he turned smartly and was out the door.

  Gemma put one hand to her cheek, knowing that it must be flushed. No man—not even Arnold—had ever made her feel so. She had no words for the sensations that had stirred inside her when he stood close, when he held her hand.

  What was wrong with her that she should be so affected by a stranger? Gemma paced up and down the rug, then realized that Captain Fallon had paced just this way when his emotions had been the most agitated. Most likely it was only that she understood his dilemma, she tried to tell herself, that she had such empathy for his sister who seemed to have been cast adrift with no one to protect her, exactly like Gemma’s deepest fear. Had she not dreaded just such a fate throughout her own childhood?

  It was not the captain himself, despite his fair good looks or the force of his personality; it was not that, she assured herself. How base it would be if she cast aside Mr. Cuthbertson’s long, careful courtship on such a short acquaintanceship with this gentleman, who probably had no interest in a penniless, nameless young lady. No, no, it was only pity for his sister she felt, that and a most sincere desire to help. And if they worked together, she might also find some answers to her own questions. She could not imagine even the dreaded Mrs. Craigmore defying the captain, not for long.