An Unwilling Alliance

by Lynn Bryant

  With Roseen Crellin safely established at Hr Lund’s establishment with a maidservant installed in her room for propriety, Paul set off to visit Mr Nilsson the pastor. He had not seen the man since his young daughter’s precipitate marriage to Lieutenant Kent and he found him writing a sermon in his small parlour.

  “Major van Daan. I hope you are well.”

  “I am, sir, thank you. I am charged with all kinds of messages from your daughter; she will visit you soon.”

  “Thank you,” the pastor said. Something in his tone suggested that he was well aware that Paul was lying but appreciated the gesture. “Much has happened since we last met. Please, sit. Have some wine.”

  Paul seated himself. “Since we last met, my countrymen have destroyed half your capital and slaughtered a few thousand of your citizens, sir. I am ashamed to be sitting here.”

  Nilsson gave a tired smile. “I have conducted too many burials this week,” he said. “But the decision was not yours, Major. I think General Peymann is to surrender the fleet to you. I wish he had done so sooner. Too many deaths to salve a nation’s pride.”

  “So do I, sir. I am sorry. But I come on a very different matter. Not a funeral but a wedding.”

  Nilsson’s brows shot up. “You wish to be married?”

  Paul laughed. “My wife would not like it, sir. No, not me. A Royal Navy captain and his young lady. She is in my care, but she should be with him and cannot be until they are married. It is so much to ask when you have suffered so much from our presence here, but if you could do this…”

  “Of course I will do it,” Nilsson said. “After so much death, a wedding is a joy. Here in my church?”

  “I was wondering if you could do it aboard his ship?” Paul asked. It was a sudden thought, but he imagined Captain Kelly would like it, and he was sure Roseen would. He had become very close to the young woman Kelly had chosen to be his wife during these past difficult days. She had been a small beacon of light in a very dark place and he had been surprised at how much he had enjoyed spending time with a girl with whom he would never share anything other than friendship. He liked Roseen Crellin’s decided opinions and direct manners and he thought that Kelly had done extraordinarily well for himself.

  With the matter agreed, Paul took himself to the shore and found a boat to take him out to the Iris. Looking out over the choppy waves he could still see smoke hanging over the broken city of Copenhagen. The skyline looked different without the great spire of the Church of Our Lady and other buildings had gone too. It would take them years to rebuild and repair, and a whole generation would mourn their dead and learn to hate the English. Paul imagined that once the fleet had been removed or destroyed, the Danes would sign an alliance with the French, and England would have another enemy on the continent. He knew why it had been done but he hated the fact that it had happened.

  Briefly he wondered how Wellesley was getting on at the negotiating table. The other two negotiators chosen had been Lt-Colonel George Murray and Sir Home Riggs Popham to represent the navy. Paul knew that if it had not been for his arrest, Wellesley would have taken him as his ADC and he felt the loss keenly. He had grown used to his privileged position as Wellesley’s unofficial staff member and he missed being at the centre of things.

  Arriving on the deck of the Iris, Paul waited while a message was sent to the captain. Hugh Kelly did not appear, but a tall young lieutenant approached him. He must have been a few years younger than Paul and was about an inch taller with the awkwardness of a puppy that had grown too fast. He saluted smartly.

  “Major van Daan. My apologies, sir. Captain Kelly attended Lord Gambier on the flagship earlier, but we expect him back at any time if you would like to wait.”

  “I will, thank you. Is it Mr Durrell?”

  “It is, sir.” The younger man regarded him with an air of faint surprise. “Allow me to conduct you to Captain Kelly’s day cabin, and I shall provide you with some refreshment.”

  Something about Durrell’s laborious speech spoke of nervousness. Paul smiled at him.

  “Thank you, I could do with a drink. Were you engaged in the bombardment?”

  “No, sir. I was glad of it to tell you the truth.”

  “So was I,” Paul said soberly. Durrell showed him into a spacious day cabin and Paul took the proffered chair and accepted a drink.

  “Can you join me for a while, Mr Durrell? I think I heard Captain Kelly telling me that you’d an interest in semaphore and communications.”

  Durrell’s face was tight. “Did he, sir? I have, but it isn’t something I have in common with the captain.”

  “Isn’t it? It’s probably useful that he has you then. I’m in no way an expert but I studied it when I was a boy in the navy and I’ve read a good deal about Sir Home Riggs Popham’s system. It isn’t used much in the army, but depending on the terrain I think it could be; I was having a conversation with Sir Arthur Wellesley about it a few weeks ago at dinner. You’ve spent some time with Captain Popham recently.”

  Paul saw the tug of interest in the boy’s eyes. They were unusual eyes, a shade of blue-green which almost looked turquoise in some lights. Currently they were dark with misery and Paul, who was tired of his own misery, pushed out a chair.

  “Do you mind if I ask you some questions if you’ve time to spare?” he said.

  They had been talking for almost an hour when Hugh Kelly appeared at the door of the cabin. Durrell had abandoned his formality along with the look of a lost puppy and was speaking fluently, a sheet of paper between them on the table as he sketched out his ideas. Paul, who was genuinely interested in both the system and the boy, looked up and smiled, then got to his feet and saluted.

  “Captain Kelly. I’m sorry about the invasion, I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all, Major, I’m glad to see you. Has Mr Durrell been looking after you?”

  Paul glanced at the boy. Durrell’s face had closed down like a shutter being slammed and he looked wooden and uncomfortable. “He has,” he said. “Mr Durrell, thank you very much. If I ever manage to persuade Sir Arthur Wellesley to make use of the system, I am going to ask him to second you to the army, you’ve a gift; I’ve never understood that fully before.”

  “Are you trying to steal my first lieutenant, Major?” Hugh said, coming into the cabin and moving to the drinks cabinet.

  “If I thought I could, I’d take him like a shot,” Paul said blandly. “I’m always looking for intelligent young officers. I don’t know about the navy, but there’s a shortage of them in the army. Bear it in mind, Mr Durrell, if you ever feel like making a change. I do mean it.”

  Durrell had gone scarlet, his eyes on Paul’s face. “Th..thank you, sir,” he stammered. “I…I’m a navy man. Hope I always will be. But I’m very honoured. And if that ever changed, I can’t think of anybody I’d rather serve under. I’ll be going, sir. Thank you.”

  When he had gone, Hugh refilled Paul’s glass and sat down. “If you had to deal with him, you’d kill him in a week,” he said.

  “I don’t think I would,” Paul said mildly. “What’s wrong with the lad, sir? I like him. He’s a bit wet behind the ears, but we all were once, he’ll grow out of that. But he’s very bright and very committed and I’d pay for that much dedication in one of my companies. What’s he like under fire, do you know?”

  Hugh was silent for a long moment. Finally he said shortly:

  “He’s very cool. Competent. Does his job.”

  “Well if you genuinely want to get rid of him, let me know, will you, sir? If I’m still in command of a battalion in six months time, I could do with a man like him.”

  Hugh pulled a face. “You didn’t come here to talk about my first lieutenant, Major. How can I help you?”

  Paul studied the distinctive face across the table. “I’m not sure, Captain. How do you feel about getting married?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  For her wedding, Roseen wore a new gown of blue silk with pale blue e
mbroidery at neck and hem. Major van Daan had found a small shop in Roskilde and had advanced her the money, promising that he would allow her to pay him back in full. She had also purchased a new pair of blue, low heeled slippers and a small straw hat. The major, who in the absence of her father was to give her away, surveyed her thoughtfully and then stepped forward.

  “Don’t slap me,” he warned, and removed the hat. Crossing the cabin, he picked up the bouquet of herbs, greenery and a few late meadow flowers that the maid at the inn had created for her and drew out an attractive white bloom. He came back to Roseen.

  “May I?”

  Roseen nodded. She felt very shy. He ran his fingers lightly through her hair, freeing the curls, and then picked up a discarded hairpin and carefully positioned the white flower above one ear. Surveying her thoughtfully for a moment, he nodded. “He’ll like that better.”

  “How do you know?” Roseen asked.

  “Because he’s a man. And so am I, and I know what I prefer.”

  Roseen felt her face grow warm. Paul van Daan laughed and held out his arm. “Come along. Thank God it’s not windy.”

  The entire crew of the Iris was lined up on deck and the major led her to where Hugh stood waiting in dress uniform. His first lieutenant stood beside him looking very awkward. It had been Roseen’s idea that Mr Durrell act as Hugh’s attendant and neither seemed sure about it but they had both complied. As she approached, Roseen saw her future husband’s grey eyes light up and he stepped forward to take her hand from the major.

  “I am glad you chose blue, lass,” he said softly. “You look so beautiful.”

  The ceremony was strange, conducted half in English and half in Danish. At the end of it, Hugh drew her into his arms and kissed her and Roseen, scarlet faced, was deafened by the cheers of the crew.

  She moved through the afternoon in a daze of confused happiness. Hugh had provided extra food and grog and there was a party atmosphere on board the Iris. After a while, Major van Daan reappeared with two folded letters.

  “Your marriage certificates,” he said. “Mr Durrell wrote out two copies in English and they’re signed and witnessed by both of us as well as Hr Nilsson. You’ll need one to take home for yourselves and if you’d like to, you can shove the other one up Admiral Gambier’s left nostril the next time he starts bleating about immorality.”

  Hugh was laughing. “Major - thank you. I’m never going to forget what you’ve done for us today.”

  “You’re very welcome, sir. This is the most useful thing I’ve done in this entire campaign. I’m going ashore; Wellesley is coming to dine with me to tell me all about the peace negotiations. Once they’re complete, I’m going back to London with him to work on my defence.”

  “Well if we don’t see you before, we shall see you there, Major,” Roseen said calmly. He smiled and lifted her hand to his lips.

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Hugh took her hand suddenly. “Major, will you get the boat to wait for us? We’re coming ashore and back to the inn with you. Just for tonight.”

  Roseen felt the blush stain her cheeks again. Major van Daan was smiling.

  “What a very good idea. I’ll go and tell him; get your things.”

  He left them at the door of the inn and Hugh led Roseen inside and up the wooden staircase to her room. It was as she had left it that morning, with no time to pack her things and take them aboard the Iris. Hugh locked the door with an air of decision and turned to her.

  “Do you remember the first time I kissed you?” he asked.

  Roseen laughed. “I do. I was so shocked. On the battlements of Castle Rushen, and I barely knew you. I thought I was still in love with Edward Barton and I was horrified at how good it felt when you put your arms around me.”

  “I really rushed it, lass. Bad timing.”

  Suddenly Roseen’s nerves had gone, the rapid heartbeat calming. She felt relaxed and sure and completely happy.

  “Hugh, you’ve kissed me a fair few times since then and I don’t regret a single one of them.”

  He moved forward, smiling, drawing her into his arms. “Nor do I, Roseen Kelly. Kiss me again, would you?”

  She did so, at home in his arms and after a long moment he lifted her up and carried her to the bed. “We could have stayed aboard,” he said, laying her down. “But I’d a sudden vision of the nosey bastards hovering outside the cabin door to see if I’d remembered what to do.”

  Roseen gave a choke of laughter. “Hugh - I have no idea what to do, here.”

  He was undressing and the sight of him both stirred and alarmed her. Smiling, he joined her on the bed and reached around her for the buttons on her gown. “Just at the moment, your only job is to lie still and let me get this gown off you, it’s too pretty to ruin. After that…”

  “After that, Captain?”

  “After that, Roseen, we’ll work it out as we go along. It’s what we usually do.”

  Roseen complied, and when finally she was beneath the covers and in his arms, she was conscious of an enormous sense of belonging, almost of coming home, along with the rising tide of her desire. She made no attempt to fight either feeling, letting him take her, gently but decidedly, past all sense of fear or uncertainty or reason, so that she lay in his arms when they were finally still, feeling complete and whole and happy.

  “Roseen. I love you.”

  She turned to him, reaching up to kiss him. “Hugh, I love you too. More than anything I’ve ever known. I feel so lucky. So much foolishness and we might never have found each other again. Yet here I am.”

  “Here you are.” His voice was full of tenderness. “I’m taking you aboard tomorrow. I’ll speak to Admiral Gambier but if he tries to order you ashore again I am going to resign my commission and take you home. Get some sleep, sweetheart. Our first night. I’m feeling ridiculously happy.”

  Ridiculously happy too, she slept, warm in his arms.

  ***

  Arriving back in London part way through September, Paul settled himself in his father’s London house in Curzon Street. He had been hoping to find his father absent, but both Franz van Daan and his eldest son Joshua were in residence. Joshua greeted him with warm sympathy and Franz shook his hand and said very little.

  Over dinner, Paul steeled himself to answer their questions. He had written to them with a brief account of the Flight affair but he knew they would want to know more and given that any publicity was likely to affect the rest of his family he supposed that he could not really tell them to mind their own business.

  When the story was told, there was a brief silence. Into it, Franz said:

  “Can Wellesley get you out of this?”

  Paul shook his head. “Not in the sense that I suspect you mean, Father. And neither can you, so please don’t give me a list of the members of the Tory party who owe you money. It doesn’t work that way.”

  “It probably could,” Franz said dryly. “I am surprised, Paul, I thought the army meant more to you than two dozen half-dead sailors on a frigate. What in God’s name possessed you?”

  Paul smiled tiredly and reached for the port. “I’d do it again,” he admitted. He had given a good deal of thought to that on the journey home. His battalion was still in Copenhagen, keeping a wary peace while the Royal Navy under the enthusiastic supervision of Sir Home Riggs Popham tore the dockyards apart, stripping it of ships, supplies and anything that might possibly benefit the French when they finally arrived.

  “Then you’re a bigger fool than I took you for!” his father snapped.

  “Very likely, sir. I would do it again but I’d do it differently. I spent my time trying to get hold of the commanders. What I should have done was gone to the nearest Royal Navy warship and told them about the bodies washing up. Preferably to Hugh Kelly, since I’d met him briefly. He’d have gone over there with his marines, found what I did, and had those men off of there just as quickly. The mistake I made was to go in with the assumption that the navy is full of arsehol
es.”

  “What do we know about this Kelly?” Franz asked. “Can he be squared?”

  Paul grinned. “I’m not sure, sir. I don’t think I’d ask him, personally, he has the look of a man who might take offence. But you don’t need to square Captain Kelly anyway, I think he’s on my side. And his wife, whom I squired around for a while, since I’d nothing better to do, is definitely on my side. She was aboard the Flight and she’ll speak for me.”

  “Will a woman’s testimony count for anything?” Joshua asked. Paul looked at him in some surprise and then laughed.

  “I believe so. I don’t think I’d like to be on the bench that told her it didn’t, anyway. She’s a shy little thing but I suspect there’s iron in her backbone. The Kellys are on my side. As to the rest, all I can do is explain why I did what I did and hope they’ll be lenient. I don’t think some of the charges will stick. But I think the last one will. I did board that ship without a shadow of authority after the Captain of the Fleet had warned me off. If I’m lucky I’ll get a slap on the wrist. Or possibly suspension for a while with loss of pay. If I’m unlucky, they’ll cashier me and I’m looking for a new career.”

  “I’m sure we can find you something to do, Paul,” his brother said. “Look, you might not want to hear this, but have you thought about resigning your commission now? Would they drop the charges?”

  “Yes, I think they would,” Paul said meditatively. “They don’t have to, and they probably wouldn’t for something more serious. But I think they’d be happy if I just went away quietly.”

  “So why don’t you do it, boy, and spare us all this scandal?” Franz asked.

  Paul looked into the glass, swirling the rich red wine around gently. It was another question he had wrestled with on his journey home. In the background he could hear the monotonous tick of the clock in the corner. His long dead mother had loved clocks and there were far more of them than necessary in the rooms of the house, their tick-tock and regular chimes a background to his boyhood. In the nursery there had been a cuckoo clock, a novelty brought home by his father from a business trip to Germany many years ago and Paul could remember forcing himself to stay awake to see the tiny wooden bird appear for one last time. He wondered why on earth he was thinking about this now.