“It is a shame my heart is already set on another?” Arthur asked, occupying his hands and his attention with organising the chess board, aligning each piece precisely in the centre of its square. “You wish to tell me I am not good enough to secure the hand of Miss Emily Hardcastle even now, with the weight of a fine reputation, a fair fortune and the public approval of our neighbours behind me?”
“I wish to tell you no such thing.” Admiral Sudbury’s answer was so sharp and sudden that Arthur flinched, nearly destroying his hard work with the motion. He neatened the row of pieces, dropping his hand into his lap before looking up at his father.
“Mr George Hardcastle may have his own views of his daughter’s worth and eligibility but you know I have never cared a great deal for people who think too much of their own importance. If you care for Miss Hardcastle and she cares for you I do not see that there is a great deal any one of us can do to prevent your being together, only...” He frowned, looking his age and a little more. “If you are sure there is none who might suit you better...”
“Better?” Arthur laughed. “Better than Miss Emily Hardcastle? If such a creature exists in all the land, let alone within the confines of Westham, I am yet to set eyes on her.” He leaned across the table and patted his father warmly on the arm. “You need not fret over me, Pa. I shall manage my affairs well enough. If Miss Hardcastle does not choose me then I shall rally, but I dare to think the battle is not quite lost yet.” He raised his eyebrows. “Let us see what happens at dinner. Now, are we to play another game of chess or do you prefer to sit around and talk of romance as if we are a pair of ladies lingering over a tea tray?”
“Quite right,” Admiral Sudbury barked, himself once more. He stared down at his chess pieces. “I hope you are ready to deploy your wits and your confidence to the battle at hand, Arthur, for I have lured you in with an easy win or two. I shall not be quite so generous this time...!”
GRACE PERCHED ON THE edge of her bed, peering at her reflection in the mirror. She scarcely recognised herself. She wore a new dress - new to her, in any case, for it had belonged to Emily only a year earlier. Her hair was curled and styled and pinned in place with enough hairpins to make her wince if she moved too quickly. She wrapped her hand around the smooth knotted top of the cane that Captain Sudbury had appeared with a day or two prior and gingerly lifted herself to her feet. Provided she did not move too quickly, and she leant on the cane as he had demonstrated, she was quite able to shuffle around under her own steam and oh! What a blessed relief that had been. She had not yet braved going outside, although that was largely on account of the weather, which had taken a turn for the worse of late, but she had managed to move about the house almost like her old self. She tiptoed towards her writing desk, sorting through her papers with one hand while she leaned heavily on the cane clasped tightly in her other. She had made an interesting study of all the trinkets Arthur had brought her and she ran her fingertips over her sketches, a smile tugging at her lips. She wished she could show him her work, but this evening was hardly the time to exhibit her peculiar little pictures as Mama insisted on calling them. Why can you not focus your energies on portraits, Grace?
Grace’s fingers strayed to a piece of paper hidden at the back of her pile and she sifted it free, examining it with a heavy heart. Her work was rough, for it had been done over a year ago and entirely from memory. The features were a little smoother than the rough, weather-beaten face they rested in now, but it was still undeniably Arthur Sudbury.
I was foolish to ever think he would care for me when he was already half in love with my sister, she thought, hesitating one moment more over the portrait, before crumpling it into a ball and tossing it half-heartedly towards the fire. It bounced across the hearth but before she could retrieve it, there was a light knock on her door and Emily bounced in.
“Oh, Grace! You look lovely.” She clasped her hands. “If only you had sprained your ankle ages ago you might have been inspired to pay a little closer attention to your appearance long before now!” She winked, seemingly unperturbed by Grace’s scowl.
Carefully, Grace hopped over to the window and sank gratefully into a chair.
“What is the matter, Emily?” she asked, glancing unhappily up at her sister. She forced her features into some approximation of a smile. It was not Emily’s fault that Captain Sudbury cared for her, not really. She was far prettier, not to mention more elegant and ladylike than Grace had ever been or could ever be. She would marry a gentleman and be very happy, where Grace was not sure she could bear giving up her own interests in nature and art long enough to manage a household.
“I have come to ask your advice,” Emily said, sliding carefully along to the edge of Grace’s bed, where she could sit and be close enough to her sister that they might converse in whispers and so not risk being overheard. “About Captain Sudbury.”
“Oh?” Grace willed her voice to remain neutral, although she could not quite bear to look at her sister, fearing that her feelings would be betrayed in her eyes, were Emily to look into them. “What about him?”
“He once...he once cared for me,” Emily murmured, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I do not suppose you remember it. It was a short-lived thing and we both got rather swept up in the idea of romance, rather than the romance himself.”
Grace nodded, almost imperceptibly.
“He was not wealthy, then, or quite as handsome as he is now, and Father put a definite stop to it even before Captain Sudbury went away to sea. He was right to do so, I can see that now, for if he hadn’t I might never have met Mr Crampton, or gone to London. Only...” She sighed.
It was on the tip of Grace’s tongue to ask if her sister’s feelings towards Mr Crampton, which had never been based on very much more than his rumoured wealth, were cooling now that she had come into contact once more with Captain Sudbury, but the words just would not come. Her throat was scratchy and dry and she swallowed, trying to summon the courage to speak. Emily began again before she had a chance to, her voice light and quick.
“Captain Sudbury is quite wealthy himself now, you know. And his return to Westham has set many young ladies’ hearts upon him, but I like to think that you and I, Grace, saw his worth long before the rest of the world. Papa certainly seems to think so, for just this afternoon he was saying how very much he looked forward to seeing young Arthur again. Don’t you think that’s nice? How he refers to Arthur like his own son?”
This was too much to bear, and Grace let out a derisive snort she tried, unsuccessfully, to disguise as a cough. Fortunately, Emily did not seem to notice, affording Grace the opportunity to word her response with a little more care.
“I believe Papa cares for Captain Sudbury’s wealth and success, now that he has returned with both. He was only too eager to sever all ties with him before he went to sea and I am not as sure as you are that such treatment can be easily forgotten.” Her voice dropped to little more than a whisper. “Or forgiven.”
“Forgiven?” Emily laughed, but the sound was not quite as carefree as she would have it appear. “What need have we of forgiveness? No, I am sure you are wrong, Grace. For why would Captain Sudbury ever call here if not to see me?”
Grace’s heart lurched uncomfortably and her eyes strayed to her treasure box, where she had hidden the silly little trinkets Captain Sudbury had brought her. They might be rubbish - they were rubbish - to anyone else, but his hands had held them, as hers did now. He had selected them with care, thinking of the interest her pen would trace in them. They were more precious to her than all the jewels and wealth in the world. Not so for her sister.
“I thought Mr Crampton quite well-appointed,” Emily continued. “But his wealth pales into insignificance alongside Captain Sudbury. And, of course, you know that his father made his money from trade.”
“Emily,” Grace snapped, tiring of her sister and no longer able to shield her own feelings. “Our father made his money from trade, as did his father before him.
If you are going to hold that against someone I am afraid your pool of suitors will be very small indeed!” She did not say if you had so little success in three seasons in London perhaps you ought not to be so choosy but the words flashed through her mind just the same. The same voice that tormented her soon raised itself again, reminding her of her own shortcomings in this particular area. At least Emily has suitors to choose from! Grace had never much cared for suitors, except when their absence left her alone at dances or resigned her to a future under her father’s roof, forever chastised and criticised by Mama who was not quite sure how to love her prickly, peculiar younger daughter. But when she thought of Arthur Sudbury, she thought that perhaps the notion of marriage was not such a terrible one. He knew her, after all. He understood that she was not created merely to look pretty and be accomplished, but that she gave her all to her hobbies, took a great deal of interest in the world around her and would never think of curtailing her own opinion to flatter a gentleman’s limited wit and intelligence. In short, she was not her sister.
And my sister is the one he has chosen, she reminded herself. He chose her long ago and he chooses her still. Is it so very bad that his accrued wealth and status now encourages her to choose him, too?
“Don’t be snippy with me, Grace, dear,” Emily said, kneading the skin on the back of Grace’s hand in a way she evidently intended to be sympathetic. “I know your ankle must be ever so painful but you must not let it spoil your disposition. This dinner must go perfectly!” Her eyes brightened. “After all, who knows but that it might be this very evening that determines the course of my future!”
With enthusiasm, she turned and embraced Grace so fiercely that the breath was almost choked from her lungs. Releasing her just as quickly, Emily skipped towards the door, humming tunelessly and pausing at the last moment to look at her sister.
“What a pity Captain Sudbury has only a sister and no brother who might be persuaded to show you a little attention, Grace. I fear you are getting too old to be without interest.” She smiled. “Well, never mind. If Captain Sudbury and I get married, I am sure he will have scores of young naval friends who might suit you. More than Mr Crampton’s dreary business associates, anyway...”
Grace tried to smile, she really did, but she did not think the expression a convincing one. Fortunately, Emily scarcely seemed to notice, scampering down the corridor to see what other preparations she might make to her toilette before their guests arrived.
Chapter Seven
It did not matter how many years passed, Arthur did not think he would ever progress up the drive towards Grafton Hall without finding himself transported five years back in time, to when he came intent on making his suit to Emily’s father before he dared to raise the issue with her. She had known of his intentions, of course, but neither of them could have dreamed that Mr Hardcastle would refuse him so callously and cruelly.
Not any more, Arthur thought, grimly, as their carriage lurched to a stop outside the elegant frontage of the Hardcastle home. Mr Hardcastle himself welcomed Arthur, or welcomed his wealth and connections. Would I have been so welcomed if I had not accrued fortune and fame in the last few years? he wondered, with a wry smile.
“What are you so happy about?”
Amelia had eyes like a hawk and she had been watching him unceasingly during their journey. Arthur hurried to rearrange his features into a practised indifference.
“Ought one not to be happy to begin an evening of dining and celebration with friends?” He arched an eyebrow in her direction. “For that matter, what are you so unhappy about, sister dear, that such a prospect could make you focus all your attention on me?”
Amelia opened her mouth to respond but before he could their carriage had stopped and another pulled alongside it.
“Ah, here is your fiancé!” Arthur declared, opening the door to their carriage and climbing out before a footman could arrive to help him. “Turn your attention upon him, Milly, for I dare say he will care more for them.”
He paused to help his sister out of the carriage, squeezing her hand lightly to let her know that he had been teasing her.
“He has no need of them!” she replied, haughtily.
“I have no need of what?” Devereaux smiled, stepping forward to allow Arthur to hand his sister into his care.
“Interfering sisters,” Arthur replied, turning quickly and ducking out of the way of Amelia’s hand, which reached out to swat him for his impertinence.
“No need of it, and yet...!” Devereaux muttered, steering Amelia away as Joanna paused at the door, turning back expectantly to the rest of the party who were needlessly delaying their arrival.
“Good evening, Miss Devereaux!” Arthur called, with a cheery wave, as he and Admiral Sudbury joined the rest of the group at the threshold. “I did not realise you were well acquainted with the Hardcastles.”
A strange look was exchanged between Amelia and Joanna that Arthur could not begin to make sense of as the door opened and they were ushered within to the sound of much celebration. Such a warm welcome was quite unexpected for Arthur and he found himself glancing self-consciously over one shoulder, lest the greetings be directed at another guest he had not yet noticed. But no, the hallway behind them was deserted. All this was for them, or rather, for Sir Benjamin Devereaux, at whose side Mr Hardcastle confidently appeared, effectively monopolising him for the evening, much to Amelia’s dismay. And Devereaux’s, too, Arthur thought, watching the helpless glance his friend shot him as he was ushered away into a corner to discuss markets, money and business at length with their host.
“Captain Sudbury!” A soft, feminine voice called to him and Arthur looked around, expecting to see Grace but instead surprised to find Emily Hardcastle tiptoeing delicately towards him. Why does she not walk normally? he thought at first, before eschewing the criticism. Emily Hardcastle was lately better acquainted with London than Westham and surely any affectations she had picked up had been learned in the ballrooms and assembly rooms of high society. Yes, now that he thought on the matter, he could recall numerous elegant young ladies practising just so decorous a mode of walking, and very pretty it was too...
“Good evening, Miss Hardcastle,” he said, bowing deeply as Emily reached his side.
“Oh, Captain!” she giggled. “You need not greet me so formally! We are old friends, are not we?” She spoke softly, bidding him lean closer so that he might hear her, but he could not help noticing the pleased pink flush that stained her cheeks at receiving so polite a greeting, and fro a gentleman as much admired as Captain Sudbury. He smiled, pleased that he had paid closer attention to his dress than he otherwise might have done. He still lamented the loss of his uniform, but it was not convention to wear it to an informal friendly gathering such as this, and so he had reverted to his civilian clothing which, he supposed, suited him well enough. Spying Mr Crampton lurking at one end of the parlour, he drew himself up to his full height, grateful that he had the height and bearing that Mr Crampton lacked, even if he had once been nought but a penniless sailor. He peered past Mr Crampton and saw Grace sitting in one corner with her Mama, looking as if she would very much like to join the rest of their guests. He had a mind to greet her, too, and had begun to steer Emily as best he could back towards her sister so that the three of them might make conversation, but Amelia was quicker. Before he could make more than a step or two of progress, she had grabbed Joanna by the hand and tugged her past the standing crowd to Grace’s corner, and he could hear his sister’s jolly voice cut through the murmuring of conversations that otherwise dominated the room.
“Hello, Grace dear! How are you feeling this evening? You look very well, does not she, Joanna? How pretty this shade is on you. You look quite elegant!”
Arthur craned his neck, wishing to see what it was his sister had seen. She cared as much for clothing as any other young lady but she was not often drawn to comment on it. Did Grace really look so very different this evening?
“.
..don’t you think so, Captain?”
Emily’s question was just sharp enough to pierce his thoughts, which had run on quite without him, and Arthur snapped his attention back to her immediately.
“I...indeed!” His eyes roamed her face for half a second for some clue as to how he should respond. His answering in the affirmative caused the tiniest of frowns to form on her clear brow, so he altered his course almost immediately. “That is, I would say not!” He swallowed, catching himself fidgeting and making a concerted effort to slow his breathing. “I agree with your assessment of the...uh...that is...”
“Miss Hardcastle!” Admiral Sudbury stepped forward to join the pair, and Arthur felt a flash of gratitude. Merely the presence of his father was reassurance enough, and his gentle conversation with Emily allowed him the time he needed to shuffle his thoughts back into sense. It is certainly not beyond my ability to exchange a word or two of conversation with any young lady, even Miss Hardcastle! He chastised himself, shocked to find his reactions so tremulous and unsure as if he had been a boy once more. Squaring his shoulders, he shook off the notion, turning his attention once more to the words exchanged between Miss Hardcastle and his father and soon picked up the thread of their conversation, joining in where he saw a gap. I am not sure when it became so difficult to listen to dear Emily, he thought, his own brow creasing into a frown that was fast becoming habitual whenever he considered either of the Hardcastle sisters. It is all Amelia’s fault, he decided, apportioning blame to his absent sister just at the moment that her cheery laugh could be heard, pulling his attention back to their cosy corner and causing him to wonder just what Grace had said that was so funny, which would surely be more interesting than Emily’s current whispering on some scandalous piece of gossip she had overheard at the tea room that morning. With a sigh that was barely noticeable to any but himself, Arthur turned his attention back to Emily Hardcastle, feeling as if he had already received all he might have wished for from the evening, though it be but scarcely begun, and wondering why he did not feel happier.
A Captain of Consequence (Westham Chronicles, #2) Page 5