An Unwilling Alliance

by Lynn Bryant

  There was little to see inside. Most of the stone flags had long gone or were broken and grass had taken their place. There were the remains of a free standing building, too damaged to guess its original purpose, although the sergeant and six soldiers of the fencibles had turned it into a makeshift camp site with a small fire lit. Roseen imagined this was not a popular duty but the men seemed to have made the best of it. Two of them manned the battlements while the others rose and saluted Hugh with commendable speed as he approached. It was odd to see him accepting and returning the salute as his due. It was not how Roseen saw him and she wondered suddenly how different he was aboard his ship with hundreds of men under his command.

  In recesses in the wall to the north and north-west, six cannons covered the entrance to the bay and Roseen listened with some amusement to Hugh’s questions about the guns, their origin, their age and their maintenance. The sergeant answered as best he could but it was very clear that Hugh knew a good deal more than he did about the guns. They inspected the lighthouse placement which was probably the most useful aspect of the fort, and when their visit was ended she saw Hugh speaking quietly to the sergeant, before slipping him what was clearly a vail. The smartness of the sergeant’s salute suggested that it was a generous one.

  Riding back towards Castletown and then on to Malew and the Top House for dinner, Hugh was quiet and Roseen thought about that and realised that she was very comfortable with his silence. She studied him as they rode and wondered what he was thinking about.

  “Miss Crellin?”

  She realised, in some confusion, that she had been staring at him and blushed. “Oh - I’m sorry, that was rude of me.”

  “No, it wasn’t. You were probably wondering if I was still alive, I’ve been sitting here like a stuffed owl for a quarter of an hour and there’s no excuse for it. My manners are terrible, it’s my job to entertain you.”

  “No, it isn’t. That makes you sound rather like a performing monkey.”

  Hugh choked with laughter. “Is that better or worse than a stuffed owl?”

  “I am not sure. Probably I would choose the owl. Half the officers in Castletown are definitely more like the monkey and it is tiresome. I was just wondering what you were thinking about but it is none of my business.”

  “It is if I choose to make it so, lass. And it is so boring I’m embarrassed. I was thinking about guns, wondering about placement on the Iris and whether I could get my hands on a couple of 68 pounder carronades. They’d be unusual on a ship of her size, but I’ve seen how useful they can be. But this is not the time…”

  “What are the usual guns on a ship like the Iris?” Roseen asked, cutting off his apology. She had never really thought much about naval gunnery but she liked hearing Hugh talk about his profession. He did so rarely but it was different to the posturing of the young army officers she had met. There was genuine enthusiasm in his voice when he talked about the Iris which lent interest to the subject.

  “She’s a 74 gun third rater, which means two gun decks. Beautifully built and very fast; she was taken from the French and although I hate to say it, they build faster ships than we do, although we’ve got very good at copying their designs. She carries twenty-eight 32 pounders on her gundeck, twenty-eight 18 pounders on her upperdeck, four 12 pounders and ten 32 pounder carronades on her quarterdeck, two 12-pounders and two 32 pounder carronades on her forecastle, and six 18 pounder carronades on her poop deck. The carronades are short-range guns, they smash the enemy ship to bits. Up on the forecastle they can make a big difference in a close fight, Victory had two at Trafalgar. I am trying to work out who owes me a favour or two. And I am astonished that your eyes are not glazing over with boredom. I am actually boring myself.”

  Roseen laughed. “I am not bored,” she said. “I love to hear you talking about your ship, you are so enthusiastic.”

  They had arrived at the Top House and walked their horses over to the long low stable block, built around a big yard. One of the grooms was coming out of a stall with brush and comb in his hands and he put them down at the sight of them and came forward, calling for assistance and touching his cap.

  “I’ll take him for you, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Hugh lifted Roseen down and as the grooms led the horses away he offered her his arm. “I’m hoping we’re not late for dinner, we stayed out longer than I’d intended. I always do with you. Thank you for your company, Miss Crellin.”

  “It was a pleasure, Captain.”

  They moved around the block towards the carriage drive, and were out of sight of both the stables and the house for a moment with the feed shed between them. Roseen was startled when he took her arm to stop her.

  “Wait,” he said, and something in his voice made her heart beat suddenly faster. She looked up at him and he was smiling.

  “May I?” he asked and she did not reply. He seemed to take her silence for assent because he bent to kiss her, very gently, on her mouth. Roseen was as surprised as she had been on the previous occasion, but the memory of that evening on the battlements had stayed with her, resurfacing occasionally, and she had found herself wondering if it had been the punch and champagne which had led her to respond so surprisingly to Hugh Kelly’s kiss.

  She realised immediately that it had nothing to do with either. He drew her very carefully into his arms, with none of the boyish passion she remembered from Edward, and kissed her harder. Roseen reached up to put her arms about him and felt the long, lean body against hers. She was slightly light-headed with sensation although part of her was still able to appreciate with some amusement, his skill in avoiding her riding hat as he angled his head to hers. It helped a little to keep some part of herself detached, because the rest of her was lost, opening her mouth under his, pressing herself against him, burying her fingers in the thick brown hair. They kissed for a long time and she made no pretence at wanting it to end. It was Hugh, finally, who lifted his head.

  “Somebody is going to come this way eventually,” he said softly. “Which is probably just as well, or I might be tempted to continue with that. Are you all right?”

  Roseen nodded, temporarily unable to speak. He moved his hand to caress her cheek, a gesture of tenderness and intimacy which melted her. “Give yourself a moment,” he said quietly.

  “Do I look a fright?” Roseen asked.

  “You look like a girl who has just been thoroughly kissed and who probably enjoyed it.”

  “I did,” Roseen said with incurable honesty and he laughed.

  “Trust me, so did I. All right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good girl. Come and have dinner, your father will be thinking I’ve abducted you. Although just now, the idea is very appealing.”

  He offered her his arm and Roseen suddenly laughed. “Wait. You cannot go in like that, look what I’ve done.”

  She reached up to his hair which she had loosened and he put his hand up, covering hers, and grinned. “Glad you’re awake,” he said. “Although we could have blamed it on the breeze. Fix it for me, would you, lass?”

  There was something very odd and surprisingly intimate about combing his hair into place with her fingers and then tying the black ribbon firmly in place and Roseen was conscious of how much she enjoyed it. When he was respectable again she took his arm, envying the apparent ease with which he recovered himself, and allowed him to lead her into the house.

  Chapter Four

  The excursion to St Michael’s Isle set the tone of the next few months for Roseen. If Captain Kelly was courting her with a view to marriage, which she supposed his regular visits suggested, he seemed willing to take his time about it.

  There was no pattern to his appearances through the long days of late spring and early summer. He would haunt the house for days at a time under the benign encouragement of her aunt and her father, and then disappear suddenly on business of his own with no warning or excuse, leaving Roseen fretting over his absence and furious with herself for missing him. She
was aware of how busy he was with the house and farm, and was astonished when he hosted the promised dinner party, at how much had been achieved in a short time. He gave her father and aunt a tour of the house, pointing out what had been done and what further improvements were planned and then cornered her in the tower room with a glorious sunset behind her while his housekeeper discussed wedding plans with her aunt and kissed her so thoroughly that Roseen wholly forgot that she was angry with him.

  As the days grew longer and warmer they rode together, laughed together, danced together at balls and informal dances, and walked on the beach holding hands and still he made no formal application for her hand. Roseen was beginning to wonder if he was, after all, simply amusing himself, and when he failed to call for over a week after a particularly enjoyable afternoon exploring the little church and churchyard at Malew, near the Top House, she was furious and decided that should he reappear once more she would make it very clear that his advances were not welcome.

  She saw him again unexpectedly at dinner with Sir Adam Quayle, a large party. Hugh was not seated beside her, having been placed beside Sir Adam’s unmarried daughter, and Roseen gritted her teeth as Miss Quayle shot her glances of pure triumph down the table and leaned attentively towards the Captain who gave every appearance of enjoying her flirtatious advances. Roseen applied herself to a meal for which she had no appetite and in the drawing room afterwards she counted the minutes until her aunt rose to leave. Miss Quayle had taken her seat at the pianoforte and was begging Captain Kelly to turn the pages for her, but he laughingly declined.

  “Given my musical talent you’ll end up playing it backwards, Miss Quayle, and that would be a shame. Mr Dunnett shall turn for you and I’ll admire from a distance.”

  He retreated to the velvet covered settle where Roseen sat and bowed. “May I join you, Miss Crellin?”

  “I can hardly stop you, Captain.”

  He regarded her from surprised grey eyes and then grinned and sat down. “I’m sorry. But I’d no control over the seating plan, I promise you.”

  “It is of no interest to me whom you sit next to, Captain Kelly. I merely thought…”

  “Oh Lord, I have offended you, haven’t I? I truly am sorry. What can I do to make it up to you? I’ve been up to my eyes with cattle fairs and the early harvest this past week, but I should have ridden over. Will you forgive me? I’ve no address whatsoever, I should have warned you before. You need to take me in hand, Miss Crellin.”

  Roseen fixed her eyes on the pianoforte. “People are staring,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “I’m not at all surprised, I’m staring myself. You look beautiful in that blue. I think I like you in colours better than white. And you’ve done your hair differently. Looser - it’s lovely. You must save a lot of time with that hair; Miss Quayle must have to spend hours in curl papers.”

  Roseen could feel herself blush. She also wanted to laugh. “Stop it. You are outrageous, Captain. How do you know I do not have to curl my hair?”

  “Because the first time I saw you you’d just come in off the hills. You had mud on your skirts and your hair was loose round your shoulders and I wanted to run my fingers through those curls…that’s how I’ll always think of you.”

  “A hoyden with muddy skirts?”

  “A lass who doesn’t need expensive gowns and hours of preening to make her look beautiful. Will you ride with me tomorrow, Roseen? I’m away to Peel Town to look at a boat. We could have dinner at the Creek Inn, if your father will trust you to me.”

  “I don’t want to go to Peel Town with you, Captain. Why don’t you ask Miss Quayle, I’m sure she’d be delighted.”

  “She might well. She would spend the entire trip telling me about her triumphs in society and how much she would like to see what I am doing with the house at Ballabrendon, since she is sure that her exquisite taste could be of use to me in my improvements…”

  Roseen could feel herself beginning to laugh. “She did not! She cannot have said that!”

  “You underestimate the lady, I assure you. She also informed me that socially I should not be seen so much in your company since it cannot increase my consequence. Is that true? I must say I think you ought to have warned me.”

  “Stop it!” Roseen hissed. She was shaking with suppressed laughter. “I do not wish to go to Peel Town with you. People are going to assume that there is something between us, sir.”

  “People are already assuming that, lass. No point in worrying about it. May I ask your father if he’ll let you come with me. Please, Roseen. I’ve missed you.”

  Roseen sighed. “No, you haven’t. You haven’t given me a second thought all week.”

  The grey eyes sparkled with amusement. “Oh yes I have, lass. I’m just not prepared to tell you exactly when and how, it will make you blush. I am sorry, I know I’ve neglected you. I’m terrible at this.”

  Roseen shook her head. “The woman mad enough to marry you is going to go crazy within a month,” she said resignedly. “And I don’t think it’s going to be me. But I will go to Peel Town with you. What on earth do you want with a boat?”

  “Don’t be daft, lass, I’m in the navy. I like sailing. Not that I’ll have much time for it while I’m here, I’d a letter regarding my refit yesterday and it’s going faster than I’d expected. But if I buy it now, I can leave it in the hands of Isaac to be stripped down and refitted and when I’m back I’ll take you sailing.”

  “I’ve been sailing,” Roseen said.

  “Not with me, you haven’t. Wait here, I’m going to speak to your father. And don’t let that puppy in a red coat sit down next to you, I’m coming back.”

  Roseen watched him with a mixture of exasperation and pleasure as he approached her father. She was still not sure how she felt about Captain Kelly but she admitted that his appearance in her life had enlivened her routine considerably.

  Peel Town was ten miles from the Crellins’ Malew home and they set off early with one of Hugh’s grooms riding at a discreet distance behind. The weather was cooler and cloudy but the rain held off and they arrived by mid-morning. Hugh left the groom to stable the horses at the inn which was right on the quay and led Roseen along the busy seafront.

  Peel Town was on the west coast of the island, a thriving and busy little town situated on the tidal estuary of the River Neb sheltered to the north by the rocky St. Patrick's Isle and to the west by Peel Hill. The grey stone of Peel Castle out on the island was less well preserved than Castle Rushen although there were signs of building and activity, with scaffolding erected in places around the walls. The ongoing war with France had given a new incentive to coastal towns around the British Isles to improve their defences, and Roseen remembered the work being done on the little fort down on St Michael’s Isle.

  Peel was primarily a port, its main industries fishing and ship building and the quayside was thronged with people in a way that she only saw on market days in the quieter streets of Castletown. Over the centuries the town had grown up on the right bank of the river facing Peel Castle on St Patrick’s Isle. It was a rabbit warren of tiny cobbled streets of sandstone and brick houses running from inland down to the busy heart of the town by the sea. The oldest houses tended to be close to the quay with newer and more elegant buildings further back.

  As always, the usual smells of the sea, wood fires and tar from the ship works were overlaid in Peel Town by the smoky odour of herring smokers. Many of the small cottagers smoked their own kippers but there were one or two commercial enterprises now, smoking larger quantities of fish and exporting them to England. Hugh led Roseen along the quay. Several people hailed him and he responded cheerfully, leading Roseen to assume that Captain Kelly had spent some time here during his months back on the island. About halfway along, a white painted Manx cottage with several large sheds attached bore a painted sign announcing Shimmin’s Smokery. Hugh rapped on the door to the house and it was opened after a moment by a very young maid in apron and cap.

>   “Is Mr Shimmin in?” Hugh asked, and a voice from within hailed him with cheerful vulgarity.

  “Bloody hell, is that the Kelly boy again trying to cadge a free breakfast? Every damned time he comes to town he’s on my doorstep…”

  “Watch your mouth, you miserly old coot, I’ve a lady with me!” Hugh shouted, and a man emerged from a dark passage. He was probably sixty, fat and red faced, dressed in the fashion of a previous age with pale breeches and a waistcoat and coat straining across his ample stomach.

  “Well how could I have expected any sensible female to be seen out in your company?” he demanded cheerfully. “Ma’am, my apologies. James Shimmin, at your service.”

  Roseen offered him her hand and he bowed over it gravely with old-fashioned courtesy, then straightened and looked enquiringly at Hugh who grinned.

  “I’m guessing you’ve not met Miss Crellin, James, she’s the daughter of my business partner Mr Josiah Crellin of the Top House, Malew. Miss Crellin, this fat old goat is Mr James Shimmin, proprietor of Shimmin Smokeries. He smokes the best kippers on the island, which of course means the best in the world, and he was a friend of my father’s. He’s also completely right, I am indeed here for a free breakfast. How are you, James?”

  “All the better for the sight of a pretty girl. Come through into the dining parlour, Miss Crellin. Sally, get some food on. The new bread, mind, we’ve guests. And fry up some of the smoked bacon, I want Captain Kelly’s opinion on it. Where’s my wife?”

  “Out back, sir, with the chickens.”

  “Call her in, will you?”

  They ate in a small, dark parlour which had probably once been the main room of the cottage before it had been extended to display Mr Shimmin’s increasing prosperity. There were two front sash windows and a big open kitchen hearth. A selection of prints adorned the walls and a big dark oak table was quickly set with traditional pottery plates and cups.

  Mrs Shimmin was some years younger than her husband, a comfortable motherly Manx woman who made Roseen feel very welcome. They chatted about local concerns; the coming harvest and the unexpectedly fine summer weather and the fishing prospects. Roseen knew many of the local fishing families through her brother.