‘And the Helena too?’
‘The—Oh!’ This was something he had not thought of. She could see his drink-logged brain trying to grapple with the new idea. ‘The Helena?’
‘For another honeymoon?’ She had his attention now and pursued her advantage. ‘Mr. Renshaw, what you do to yourself is you own affair, but first listen to me: I’ve come to see you on a matter of business. Surely you’ll pay me the courtesy of a hearing?’
‘Courtesy?’ He was coming back to them as from a great distance. ‘Business? At your service—Brown, a chair for the lady.’ And then. ‘But you were to call me Brett.’ He dropped the pistol on the table and looked down at his crumpled shirt. ‘No state for business. Ladies present… A thousand apologies.’
‘I should just about think so, sir.’ Price bustled forward. ‘In your shirtsleeves indeed! And the saloon looking as if a tornado had struck it! If you’d be so good as to step up on deck for a moment, ma’am, we’ll have all shipshape for you in a jiffy.’ One hand adjusted Brett’s straying cravat while the other whipped the pistol out of sight. ‘Give us five minutes, ma’am?’
It was longer than that before Barlow joined her on the deck. ‘Thank God you came.’
She did not want to discuss it. ‘How is he?’
‘Asleep. He sent you a thousand apologies and fell asleep as he spoke. Don’t blame him too much, Miss Vannick. And—another thing. He thinks you’re staying. He insisted on being put in my cabin … the one he’s been using. If he should wake and find you gone … Miss Vannick, would it be asking too much?’
‘Of course I’ll stay.’ She was delighted to have the decision made for her. ‘I’ll write a note to my aunt at once. She can explain to Mrs. Biddock. Mr. Renshaw’s ill—’ She was working it out as she spoke. ‘I can’t put my proposition to him till the morning—till he’s better. I feel in honour bound to stay and nurse him. It would never do to leave him to the tender mercies of a lot of men. Price is with him?’ She broke off to ask it anxiously.
‘Yes, and Brown is tidying up the saloon. The less the crew know of this, the better. There’s rumours enough going about the ship as it is. Miss Vannick—’
‘Yes?’
‘I’ve no right to ask it, but you said something about a proposition?’
‘Yes.’ Why not tell him? ‘I want to charter the Helena, Captain Barlow.’
‘Thank God.’
* * *
By the time Cassandra was rowed out to the Helena, the saloon was tidy again and Price was setting the table for dinner. ‘I knew you’d come!’ Phyllida kissed her warmly.
‘Of course I’ve come. If Mr. Renshaw needs nursing, I’m the one to do it. Poor man—’ A bright, intelligent glance suggested that she knew exactly what was the matter with Brett. ‘Frankly, Phyl, I was delighted to get your note. One afternoon of Cissie Biddock was enough for me. Where her poor husband can have found her is more than I can imagine. Underbred, a gossip…’ She coloured angrily, remembering the questions Mrs. Biddock had asked about Phyllida. ‘And as for her children—’
‘Horrid little boys,’ Phyllida agreed. ‘Poor Mr. Biddock.’
‘He was a horrid little boy too.’
‘Yes…’ Thoughtfully. ‘Really, if it were not for the convenience of his handling Brett’s affairs too, I’d be inclined to move my business to Mr. Barff, of whom everyone speaks so well.’
‘But you can’t until the will is proved. What are we going to do, Phyl?’
‘Stay here until we hear from Alex, And then—I’ve a plan, Aunt.’ She told her about her idea of chartering the Helena. ‘Poor Brett! I’ve no doubt Mrs. Biddock told you how things are with him. You’ll help me persuade him, Aunt Cass?’
‘I’ll try.’ If Cassandra had noticed that the gold-framed looking-glass was missing from the wall, and one of the chairs from the table, she did not remark on it, and Phyllida was grateful to her. The yacht was too small for any discussion of Brett’s state.
He did not appear in the morning, and Price reported him as still far from well. And that was likely enough, Phyllida thought, after the amount of brandy he had drunk. So long as it was only that. But suppose he felt he could not face her, after yesterday’s scene? She half smiled to herself. Last time they had quarrelled, it had taken capture by pirates to restore them to speaking terms. Perhaps this time she would have to wait until Alex returned with news of Peter. She refused to believe that there would not be news. Alex had promised to find out: he would do so. His return would solve everything.
She was waked early next morning by a bustle in the harbour, and hurried eagerly up on deck. How like Alex to have made such a good time. But it was a strange ship that was being moored inland from them. ‘It’s the British packet, miss,’ the lookout told her. ‘No quarantine for them, I reckon.’
And indeed Phyllida, swallowing disappointment, could see a lively going and coming to the new ship. She saw Biddock being rowed out to her and wondered if by any miracle the packet might bring news that Brett’s uncle had changed his will once more. Summoned below by Price, she found her aunt already at the breakfast table. ‘It’s the British packet, Aunt Cass. Do you long to go home on her?’
‘Not so long as you’re staying.’
‘Bless you. I knew you’d say that. Good gracious! Can we have company already?’ A boat had scraped against the Helena’s side.
‘It sounds like it.’ Aunt Cassandra calmly finished her coffee. ‘It might not be a bad thing either.’
‘No.’ Anything to get Brett out of that dismal cabin.
Captain Barlow appeared, looking flustered, at the saloon door. ‘There you are, Price! Excuse me, Miss Knight, Miss Vannick. You must call Mr. Renshaw. At once. I’ve never been so surprised in my life. Perhaps you ladies—In the meantime—It seems an odd kind of welcome for the poor young thing. Really, I don’t know what to do for the best.’
‘Captain Barlow!’ Phyllida could hardly help laughing. ‘If you’d be so good as to explain. Price will need to know what to say to Mr. Renshaw.’
‘Of course. Forgive me. It was having it come plump like that. I’m just a seaman, these are too deep waters for me.’ And then, pulling himself together. ‘It’s Mr. Biddock. Up on deck. He’s come from the packet. No, that’s not right. He’s come from his home, he says. He thought it best to take her straight to Mrs. Biddock, he told me.’
‘Her? Good God, Mr. Barlow, not Helena?’
‘Helena! Lord bless you, miss, not her. No, it’s Miss Renshaw come out on the packet to join her brother, and what Mr. Biddock was thinking of to take her ashore I’m sure I don’t know.’ But he looked uncomfortable, as if he had a pretty good idea.
‘Well! If this isn’t the outside of enough.’ For once, it was Cassandra who took command. ‘Price, tell your master I will be delighted to accompany him on shore to fetch his sister. Unless he would prefer my niece to go out with me? Tell him, would you, that the sooner his sister is out of Mrs. Biddock’s house, the happier I shall be.’
‘Thank you, ma’am.’
As he withdrew, Cassandra turned to Phyllida. ‘Tell me, did you even know he had a sister?’
‘No. But then, he talks so little of his life in England. Captain Barlow, you must know. How old is Miss Renshaw?’
‘A mere child, miss. She lived with their aunt and uncle, you know. Ever since their parents died.’
‘With … Not with the uncle?’ No good pretending Barlow did not know everything about Brett’s being disinherited.
‘Precisely, miss.’
‘Good God. And he’s had her on his mind too. No wonder—’
She paused at the sound of altercation from Brett’s cabin. ‘Of course I’m going like this.’ His voice was raised in a vigorous anger that she found most encouraging. ‘This is not a morning call, you fool. I’m fetching Jenny. And why on earth that idiot took her there in the first place—’
Suddenly conscious that they were all listening, Phyllida and Cassandra both spoke at
once. ‘I’ll just fetch my—’ said Cassandra, and: ‘I’d best go up on deck and speak to Mr. Biddock,’ said Phyllida.
She opened the saloon door as Brett burst out of his cabin, with Price, still protesting, behind him. ‘Be damned to Mrs. Biddock.’ Brett was wearing his sailing costume of loose shirt and duck trousers. ‘I’m in a hurry, man.’ And then, suddenly aware of Phyllida: ‘Forgive me.’ Surprisingly, he laughed. ‘There seems no end to the apologies I owe you. But no time for that now. I must get that fool of a girl back on board the packet before it’s full up.’
‘You’re never thinking of sending her back?’
‘What else can I do with her? I suppose she has quarrelled with my uncle on my behalf, bless her silly little heart. Well, she can’t afford to. You’ll have to help me make her see that, Phyllida. Or, better still,’ he looked past her into the saloon: ‘You, Miss Knight? I’d be most grateful if you’d come with me. It’s good of you to offer.’
‘Of course I’ll come. But I think you should listen to what your sister has to say for herself, before you decide what to do with her.’
‘Of course I’ll listen.’ Impatiently. And then, with a half laugh. ‘You don’t know Jenny. I’ll have no option. But she’ll have to go back just the same. You know as well as I do, Miss Knight, that this is no place for her.’
Phyllida threw back her head in a laugh her aunt suspected of being near-hysterical. ‘You sound for all the world like Mrs. Biddock. Another reputation dies!’
‘Nonsense!’ He turned on her furiously. ‘You know I don’t mean that. But she’s a child, I tell you. There’s her education to be considered; her future. What’s to become of her, wandering about the world with a lost cause like me? I can’t do anything for her, don’t you see?’ It had been eating into him. ‘She’s got to go back to my uncle, however much she dislikes it. And however much I do. But at least I hope I’m beyond considering myself.’
‘Yes,’ said Cassandra Knight. ‘I see all that, Mr. Renshaw, but I still think you should wait to see what the child—Jenny—has to say. And as to education; I think I could make shift to help you there.’
‘You’re too good. But we must be going. God knows how many people will have booked passage on the packet already.’
Chapter 10
They reached the deck to find it in a state of unusual bustle, with Mr. Biddock gazing pop-eyed over the side. Most of the crew seemed to be there too, and now Brown and another man leaned over the rail to steady the arrival on board of the prettiest girl Phyllida had ever seen. Everything about her was perfect, from her golden ringlets to her exquisitely fitted travelling dress, but her smile, when she saw Brett, was best of all.
‘Brett!’ She dropped the bandbox she had been carrying and hurled herself at him. ‘Darling, horrible B, are you all right?’
‘Of course I am, Jenny.’ But Phyllida thought she heard a catch in his voice. Was he thinking, as she was, how nearly he had not been here to welcome his sister? ‘But’—he held her back to look her up and down with almost comic dismay—‘Jenny, you wicked little wren, what’s happened to you?’
‘I’m grown up, love. Didn’t anyone tell you? Not that they would! Anyway, I’ve come to keep house for you, now we’re alone in the world. And what you meant,’ she turned on Biddock with a fierceness suddenly reminiscent of her brother, ‘by not telling me Brett was right here all the time is more than I can understand.’ She coloured a little and turned to Phyllida, who thought that, in fact, she probably understood very well. ‘You must be Miss Vannick. And Miss Knight?’ She bobbed a charming schoolgirl’s curtsy for Cassandra. ‘Mrs. Biddock told me about you.’ Her colour was higher than ever, but she ploughed gallantly on, addressing Phyllida now. ‘Are you really going to charter the Helena to look for your brother? It’s the most romantic thing I ever heard of. But, please, you’ll let me come too? I’ll be good as gold, I promise.’
Phyllida, looking quickly from one to the other, did not know whether Biddock or Brett was the more taken aback by this speech. Biddock she thought, was swearing to himself. Like her, he must realise that his wife had eavesdropped on their conversation and reported it to Jenny. And Brett? What would he be thinking? She smiled warmly at Jenny. ‘Of course you shall come,’ she said. ‘If we go. But first you must persuade your brother to let me charter his yacht. He’s been ill, you see. He knows nothing about it.’
‘Oh lawks!’ She looked round the circle of surprised, admiring faces. ‘Have I put the cat among the pigeons again?’ It did not seem to trouble her. ‘I do do it. But, darling, idiot B, you are going to let Miss Vannick have your yacht, aren’t you, so she can search for her brother? And we three’—the bright, friendly gaze embraced Phyllida and Cassandra—‘will sit in a circle and chaperon each other, so that even Mrs. Biddock cannot cry “shame”.’ She flashed a wicked glance at Mrs. Biddock’s husband, then back to her brother: ‘Dear, dreadful B, say yes.’
‘But, Jen, you don’t understand. I’m penniless. I can do nothing for you…’
‘Idiot! Why do you think I came? When uncle told me he’d stopped your allowance I went straight to Mr. Coutts and asked for Mother’s jewels. He gave them to me too, though he said it was “against his better judgment”, bless his heart. You’d forgotten about them, hadn’t you? We can live on them for ever. Those detestable ruby ear-rings paid my passage, and here are the rest—’ She retrieved the bandbox and handed it to him. ‘You can take care of them now. I’m sick of carrying them about with me.’
‘Oh, Jen—’
He was near breaking down, Phyllida thought, and hurried to intervene: ‘Shall we move down to the saloon? I think all your baggage is on board now, Jenny—you will let me call you that? Perhaps there is some message you would like Mr. Biddock to take to his wife for you?’ Was that rash? Her warning glance met Jenny’s sparkling one.
‘Yes, of course.’ Brett’s sister was no fool. She turned at once to Mr. Biddock. ‘You will say everything that’s polite to your wife from me and explain that I prefer to stay with my brother? I’m afraid I came off in some haste. She may, just possibly, be wondering what has become of me.’
‘And that got rid of him.’ In the saloon, Jenny pulled off her expensively ravishing bonnet and threw it on the table. ‘Thank you for the reminder, Miss Vannick. With such a tattletale for a wife, he’s the last person we want listening to our family affairs.’ And then, sensing an instinctive withdrawal in Phyllida. ‘You are going to be a sister to me, I hope?’
‘Who could help but be your friend?’ Aware of Brett, darkling behind her, she felt as if walking on eggs. ‘Lord knows what kind of gossip Mrs. Biddock has been regaling you with.’ She turned to Brett. ‘You’ve not met her. I warn you, she’s an experience. But [to Jenny] the plain facts of the case are that your brother rescued my aunt and me from the Turks in Constantinople and has been so very kind as to bring us here to safety. And that is all. And that reminds me,’ she turned back to Brett. ‘Mr. Biddock and I worked out the extent of my aunt’s and my indebtedness to you.’ A deep breath. ‘Here is a draft for the amount.’ He would not take it. ‘Since you have her jewels, perhaps I will give it to your sister. You’ll take care of it for him?’ She handed the folded paper to Jenny.
‘Indeed I will. And, thank you. You see, B, we’re not penniless after all. Now it merely remains to let Miss Vannick charter the Helena, and our troubles are over. Oh—and to tell Price where my luggage is to go. Dear Price—’ He had appeared in the doorway of the saloon. ‘I am so very pleased to see you.’
‘And I you, Miss Jenny. As to your luggage: it’s all safely stowed long since, and merely awaits your abigail’s arrival to unpack it.’
‘Then it will wait a long time. No, no. Don’t look so scandalised. I started out with one, all right and tight. By Gibraltar, she was seasick half the time and grumbling the rest. At Malta, she got the offer of a passage home in company with “a very good sort of body”.’ Jenny’s cockney was perfect. ‘And I urge
d her to take it. Thank God she did. So—no abigail, Price.’
‘Then I’ll unpack for you, miss, with your permission.’
‘I expect you’ll unpack for me, permission or no. And very well you’ll do it.’
‘Thank you, Miss Jenny. But first—Mr. Renshaw—’ Why was he looking so miserable? ‘Mr. Brown has asked for a word with you, urgently. Before you discuss the question of a charter, he says.’
‘Good God!’ Predictably, Brett exploded. ‘Has everyone on this boat been discussing this charter before it was so much as broached to me?’
‘It’s my fault,’ said Phyllida. ‘It seems I’m as bad as Mrs. Biddock. I’m afraid I told Captain Barlow. Forgive me, Brett? You must see we’ve all been at sixes and sevens while you’ve been ill.’ She did not add that she had been quietly paying for the coal and supplies that had been coming on board.
‘Ill!’ He was furious with himself. ‘Sulking in my tent, you mean, like Achilles, only with less excuse.’
‘Oh well,’ said Phyllida soothingly. ‘Achilles gave a good account of himself, I seem to remember, when he emerged. And you are going to help me look for Peter, aren’t you? Please?’ And then, on a wicked inspiration. ‘I suppose I could charter the Philip from Alex, but I’d feel a good deal safer with you.’
‘Good God! You can’t do that. Of course you shall have the Helena. What I find hard to bear is that I must at least let you pay her expenses, since I cannot do so myself.’ It hurt him horribly to admit it.
And, for the time being, it was concession enough. ‘Thank you. I knew you would not fail me. But should we not hear what Mr. Brown has to say?’
It proved depressing. With coal at last on board, he had given the engines a trial run the day before, or tried to. ‘It’s the gudgeons,’ he said. ‘Those pirates!’
‘Pirates?’ exclaimed Jenny.
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