‘Thank you, John, but I will not abandon Felicity.’
‘Kindly allow me to finish. I have told Mohammed ben Idris’s envoys that Miss Crown is at present ashore, as she is, staying with old friends of her family, and that if they insisted upon her return, as they did, I would have to undertake the distasteful task of persuading them to part with her. I have told them that I will do this when I go ashore this evening.
If Miss Crown were to be placed, clandestinely on board Enterprise, and taken with you to Gibraltar, where you will necessarily stop for victualling before crossing the Atlantic, I will be able to tell the envoys, when they come for her tomorrow, that she has already left Sicily, and indeed, had done so before I visited the Pucchinis to demand her return. I shall not of course specify which ship she left on. They will undoubtedly be angry, but I do not see what they can do about it; by the time they can regain Tripoli and mount a pursuit, you will have made the Rock.’
‘John,’ Toby cried. ‘That is the most splendid thing I ever heard. I … I would like to apologise.’
Rodgers raised his eyebrows. ‘For what?’
‘Ah … for … for doubting, sir.’
‘Did you think I would ever return a Christian lady to the hands of the Moors? However, I must warn you that they may well suspect the truth, and may even make representations to Congress. I cannot believe that any American government would consider returning a young white lady to the clutches of a man like Idris, nor will they be able to do so while she remains on British soil.
‘However, if you do intend to marry the girl, it is absolutely essential that you conduct yourself in every aspect of this affair as a commissioned officer in the United States Navy should. Miss Crown will be in your care as far as Gibraltar. This is improper, but these are unusual circumstances. However, during the voyage, you must conduct yourself with the utmost propriety. You will not so much as touch her hand, even if invited to do so, and under no circumstances will you allow yourself to be alone with her. I wish that very clearly understood.’
‘Yes, sir. Am I allowed to speak with her?’
‘Well, of course you are. There is no necessity to be rude to her.’
‘I meant, am I allowed to propose marriage?’
‘If you can ascertain that she wishes to entertain such a proposal, certainly. But again, you must behave in an entirely proper fashion. When you reach Gibraltar, you may visit her parents and formally ask for her hand in marriage, if that is what you truly wish. Once that is agreed, arrangements can be made for her to cross the Atlantic and marry you. It will, of course, greatly enhance your chances of receiving the blessings of Congress were you able to say that you are betrothed to the young woman. But she must not cross the Atlantic in Enterprise, under any conceivable circumstances. I wish this most clearly understood, Toby. Any suggestion of abduction or coercion in this matter and you are done. Remember that at all times.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Toby stood up, replaced his hat, saluted. ‘And I wish to thank you again, sir, from the bottom of my heart.’
‘I think you should pray that you have something to thank me for, at the end of the day. Now you may go ashore and inform Miss Crown of our arrangements.’
*
Signora Pucchini clapped her hands. ‘Fine,’ she cried. ‘Fine.’
That was, unfortunately, one of only half a dozen words of English she knew, which had made conversation rather difficult, as Felicity knew no Italian. But she thought the gown did look rather fine, even if its colours were somewhat gaudy, deep reds and blues in huge bands, while the skirt was absurdly flounced. It was when she turned in front of the full-length mirror that she became aware of how heavy it was, seeming to weigh her down, and how noisy, as the taffeta underskirts rustled and crackled … and how clinging.
But the two Signorinas Pucchini, teenagers, dark haired and eyed, with flashing smiles and excited movements — younger editions of their mother — were also clapping their hands in admiration; they spoke no English at all.
So, Felicity thought, was she going to admit to herself that she missed the soft, cool, light and utterly indecent silk of the harem? She certainly missed the velvet slippers or the bare feet; the boots bought for her to go with the outfit seemed to have encased her toes in iron.
‘Promenade?’ Signora Pucchini suggested, revealing another word of her limited vocabulary. ‘Buono, buono.’
She watched her guest anxiously. She had indeed watched Felicity anxiously ever since the English girl had been brought to the Pucchini house, and although well equipped with maids, had insisted on serving her herself wherever possible, as if she were suffering from some dreadful disease. But then, Felicity thought, am I not suffering from some dreadful disease in the eyes of everybody? Certainly in the eyes of the Americans, who had kept her locked away far more firmly than she had ever been in the harem of Mohammed ben Idris. Not even Toby McGann had come to call. He had rescued her — but his mission had been to rescue his compatriots. Having done that, he had had the time to think, and consider.
Well, so had she, both on the two-day journey to Syracuse and in the twenty-four hours she had spent in this house. The Pucchinis had been most kind, and had done wonders in having their dressmaker run up this gown so quickly … but she was still diseased. Because once the euphoria of being rescued had worn off, thought had accomplished very little towards reassuring her about the future. She had had to contend, first of all, with a sense of unreality, compounded by memory. She had found herself in the security of the cabin of a ship at sea; it had been from the security of a cabin of a ship at sea that she had been dragged to Idris’s harem.
When she had got over that initial, stark fear that her rescue had been nothing more than a dream from which she would awake on Idris’s couch, she had then had to contend with the reality of being utterly alone. She had not actually been alone for four years. The harem had always been a crowded place; even if the other women had hated her, and their children had been afraid of her, yet they had always been there, as the eunuchs had always been there. As Mohammed ben Idris had always been nearby.
So then she had to reconcile herself to two consecutive nights, which had now become three, without having a man’s hand sliding over her body, so regular had Idris been in his attentions this past year. She had actually awakened on the second night aboard the Essex — the first night she had slept the sleep of total emotional exhaustion — and wondered where she was, and why she was sweating with anxiety … Oh, she was diseased.
But there were other, more subtle reconciliations to be made. The right, for instance, to leave this house and go for a walk in public, as Signora Pucchini was now inviting her to do. But behind that suggestion of total freedom there lurked another, more terrifying reality. These people were all strangers. They knew only a refugee from a Moorish harem. If she was contaminated by her experiences, she was also an object of admiration, for her survival and her beauty, of anticipated laughter and good manners when she was recovered, of even that recovery, into a normal English gentlewoman. And in any event, the Italian, the entire Continental, attitude to sexual matters lacked the prurient censoriousness of the English. But soon she would be on her way to meet her mother and father. Both Captain Rodgers and Signor Pucchini had assured her of this. To meet Jonathan, once again.
She dreaded that most. Jonathan, in his ambitions to climb the ladder of success and promotion with no backing of either birth or wealth to support his abilities, was the most gentlemanly gentleman in all the world. His life was a series of established rules, within which a gentleman, and a lady, manoeuvred, as best they could. The rules could be bent and even evaded, from time to time, in a proper secrecy, and to a proper end; they could never be broken — anyone attempting to do so was immediately an outcast. She might not have broken the rules herself, but she had had them broken about her, brutally, violently, completely, and worst of all, most publicly. As she could not go to the bed of a gentlemanly husband as a virgin, she could not g
o to the bed of a gentleman at all. And as marriage was the only acceptable occupation for a gentlewoman, she would indeed be an outcast.
Last night she had almost acknowledged a most terrible desire, that the best news she could now receive was that her mother and father and brother had all somehow died, leaving her totally alone in the world to make her way to hell in her own good way. Because of all the world, she feared seeing them again the most.
‘Promenade?’ Signora Pucchini asked again, looking hopeful.
Felicity smiled at her. ‘Why not? Si, signora.’ Because she might as well enjoy her newfound freedom, until the walls of propriety shut her away more conclusively than ever. And in Syracuse, no one yet knew who she was, or where she had come from.
Signora Pucchini clapped her hands, and held out a parasol, taking one for herself. Her daughters also hastily equipped themselves, then all four women turned to face the door to the parlour, on which there was a knock, followed by Signor Pucchini.
‘A caller,’ he said. Unlike his wife, he spoke English quite well. ‘For you, Signorina Crown.’
Instinctively Felicity brought up her umbrella like a weapon. She knew who it had to be. Well, did she not want to see him? But however brief their previous acquaintance, he was the only man in all Italy who had known her before Mohammed ben Idris.
Toby stood behind Pucchini, his hat in his hands. He looked very smart in his uniform, as smart as she recalled him on that day at breakfast, aboard HMS Lancer. But she preferred the memory of the tattered, bearded ruffian who had taken her from Idris’s harem. ‘Miss Crown,’ he said formally.
Felicity looked at Signor Pucchini, and then at his wife, who shrugged.
‘Of course,’ Signor Pucchini said. ‘The parlour is yours, signorina. But it is correct for the door to be kept open. You understand?’
‘Yes,’ Felicity said, and went into the room. ‘I have so much to thank you for, Mr McGann,’ she said, ‘that I don’t know where to begin.’ She did not look at him as she carefully laid down the parasol, and took off her bonnet. She knew she was blushing; that his cheeks were also pink was no comfort.
‘You have nothing to thank me for, Miss Crown,’ he said. ‘Rather should you hate me.’ At last she looked directly at him, in surprise. ‘For leaving you to languish in that ghastly captivity for so long,’ he explained. ‘I would have you know it was not for want of trying.’ Only three days ago, in the excitement of the battle and the rescue, they had called each other Toby and Felicity. Now that invisible wall of propriety and genteel manners she feared so much was already erected between them.
Felicity sat down, her hands on her lap. ‘I am sure you came to my aid as soon as was possible, Mr McGann,’ she said. ‘Far sooner than I had any right to expect.’ She attempted a smile. ‘My own people never sought me at all. Won’t you sit down?’
He obeyed, on the far side of the room. ‘I … I knew where you were,’ he said. ‘And wanted …’ He sighed. ‘How I wanted … to help you,’ he hastily added.
‘And you are a man who does what he wants,’ Felicity acknowledged. ‘For which I am truly thankful.’
Toby licked his lips.
‘Will you take a glass of wine?’ she asked. She could see a bottle and glasses on the table behind him.
‘That would be very kind of you.’ He stood up. ‘I will fetch it. And you?’
The thought had not occurred to her. But she did need something. ‘Why, yes, thank you,’ she said.
He went to the table, filled two glasses, glanced at the open door; he could have no doubt they were being overheard. He came back across the room, held out the glass. Their fingers touched as she took it.
‘May I ask what happens now?’ she asked.
‘Ah.’ He returned to his seat and sat down. ‘It is for that reason I have come. Please do not be alarmed, but Mohammed ben Idris has sent to reclaim you.’
She stared at him, her brain refusing to accept what he was saying.
‘You were not included in the ransom payment, you understand,’ Toby hurried on, ‘which was strictly for the release of our seamen and Captain Bainbridge. And although we took you by force, it was an illegal act, as peace had already been agreed between the United States and Tripoli.’
‘And when the Moors took me by force?’ she asked in a low voice, ‘was that considered a legal act?’
‘Aye. These people have the most colossal effrontery, to be sure. However …’
‘I shall not return to Mohammed ben Idris, Mr McGann.’ She kept her voice even with an effort. ‘If I have to kill myself.’
‘Of course you will not return to Tripoli, Miss Crown. I gave my word as to that. And my people feel exactly as I do. But the commodore also feels it were best you were not in the vicinity at all, if we are to avoid an incident. In any event, we all know how anxious you must be to return to your parents. There is a ship leaving for Gibraltar tonight, and we wish you to be on it. An escort will come for you at dusk.’
‘For Gibraltar!’ That feared fate was rushing at her even sooner than she had suspected. Absently she drank, felt the liquid tracing its way down her chest.
‘Do you not wish to go to Gibraltar? So far as we are aware, your father is still posted there. And your mother is with him. Even your brother visits there, from time to time.’ He gave an encouraging smile. ‘Your whole family, waiting to welcome you with open arms.’
‘Yes,’ she said softly, and finished her wine. For a moment the room revolved about her — she had tasted no alcohol in four years — then it settled down. ‘Do they … do they know of my rescue?’
‘Why, no. There has been no time. You will be the bearer of your own good news. Which will be to the good, will it not?’ Toby was clearly at a loss at her lack of enthusiasm. ‘I am to accompany you.’
‘You?’ She put down her glass.
‘Well …’ His flush was back, deeper than before, and his glass was also empty. ‘I am to bear despatches for Congress. But I have also been granted permission to see you safe to your family. It is felt … ah …’
‘That I am your personal responsibility,’ she suggested.
‘Well, not in that sense.’ Again he glanced at the open door.
‘You will have to explain the sense you mean. And please have some more wine,’ she invited. ‘I will join you.’
‘Oh yes, of course.’ He refilled their glasses, remained standing this time by the fireplace. ‘I thought, perhaps, on such a voyage, that we might be able to … discuss things.’
‘Of course,’ she agreed, her heart beginning to pound more quickly. But that might just have been the effects of the wine. ‘What did you wish to discuss?’
‘Ah …’ He returned to his seat. ‘You have probably forgotten, Miss Crown, but on the occasion of our first meeting, off Dominica, I expressed a desire to call upon you should I ever visit Gibraltar.’
‘I remember very well.’
‘I … well …’ He licked his lips. ‘I wish you to understand that I know I am behaving in a most unmannerly fashion in raising this matter at this time, and in these circumstances … but I meant that request, and when I was posted to the Mediterranean, which would necessarily involve a stop at Gibraltar, I was overjoyed, principally because of the opportunity it would give me to see you again. I believe we even sighted your convoy just before … well, that gale, with its dreadful consequences.’
‘I remember seeing two American warships,’ she cried. ‘Were you on one of them?’
‘Oh, indeed, I was. Oh, Miss Crown … to think that we. gazed at each other across a few scant miles of sea, and then.,.my God! Is there any justice in this world?’
‘Perhaps, Mr McGann,’ she said quietly, ‘as you have now rescued me. Supposing you still consider that to have been a worthwhile act.’
‘Worthwhile? My God!’ He finished his second glass of wine, and sighed. ‘Well, I carried out my intention, and called on your parents, and there learned of your terrible misfortune.’
He raised his head. ‘I do not truly know, Miss Crown. Shock and horror, of course. But I … I left immediately, to attempt to organise a rescue there and then. I failed …’ He sighed again. ‘It was pointed out to me, with some justice I believe, that there was no hope of finding you until we could discover where you had been taken.’
She gazed at him. ‘Was that all that was pointed out to you, Mr McGann?’
‘I had no interest in the opinions of others, Miss Crown,’ he said fiercely. ‘I have dreamed only of rescuing you, ever since.’
‘Someone you had met only once?’ She attempted to lighten his mood with another smile, with more success than before. ‘You are a romantic, Mr McGann.’
His smile was genuine. ‘I’ll not deny that, Miss Crown.’
‘But a successful romantic. Again, I thank you, and indeed, God, for making you so. If there is anything I can ever do to repay you …’ Toby drew a long breath. ‘I … I had hoped that circumstances would enable me to conduct myself as an officer and a gentleman, trusting that the situation, of us both being in the Mediterranean area, would permit me to visit Gibraltar with some regularity. However, my intention was, I think, formed on the occasion of our first meeting, and has never altered. And now, my imminent departure for the United States forces me to sidestep the restriction of propriety. Miss Crown, Felicity … I should be honoured if you would consent to be my wife.’
She gazed at him with her mouth open, taken entirely by surprise, even if her instincts had been warning her that he was going to make some claim on her. But marriage … She couldn’t think, as the room was filled with people, kissing her cheek, embracing Toby, Signor Puc-chini shaking his hand. ‘Oh, congratulations,’ he said. ‘We are all so happy for you.’
Felicity continued to stare across their heads at Toby. Her knees felt weak, but she was determined that she was not going to faint this time.
The Sea and the Sand Page 18