The Counterfeit Husband, page 23
“No, not Wyckfield. I’m taking you to Southampton.”
“Southampton!” Pippa squealed in delight. “It’s Thomas! You’re taking us to Thomas!”
“That’s right, you little magpie. You guessed it.”
“Oswald! What’s happened. How did you find him? And why have we not heard anything?”
“I didn’t have to find him. I’ve been in touch with him all along. He didn’t want to see you until everything had been cleared up. So that he could look you in the eye, he said.”
“Has everything been cleared up, then?”
“Without a black mark remaining. The captain of the Triton not only vouched for him but said that he’d been unable to replace him with anyone of equal caliber. And Jeffries has taken the fellow under his wing. Trots him out to talk to everyone interested in naval matters. And the last surprise is that he’s found him a berth on a John Company ship.”
“John Company?” Pippa asked. “That’s the East India Company, isn’t it? Thomas told me they’re the finest merchant ships afloat.”
“So they are. As mate of the Athena, he’ll have master’s papers before he knows it. Jeffries hopes that, by that time, he’ll have gotten over his prejudice against the Navy and will join up to captain a ship of the line. He has a very promising future, this lad of yours.”
“Oh, fiddle-faddle, Oswald. He’s no ‘lad of mine,’” Camilla said with a toss of the head. But her heart was leaping about in her chest quite uncontrollably, and she had to turn her head to peer out of the window so that Oswald wouldn’t see her cheeks.
The carriage rolled right on to the pier, and before it had come to a complete stop, Pippa jumped down. She stared in awe at the huge, three-masted ship Athena, anchored at the end of the pier and, spying Thomas waiting at the top of the gangplank, resplendent in a blue uniform with a cocked hat on his head, went flying aboard. She leaped right up into his arms. “Oh, Thomas, Thomas, I’ve missed you so!” she whispered into his neck.
“And I’ve missed you, Miss Pippa,” he said hoarsely, squeezing her tightly.
His greeting to Camilla was much more subdued. Except for a certain tremulousness of the voice, his how-de-dos were very polite and formal. After shaking Oswald’s hand warmly, he took them on a full tour of the ship, pointing out everything from the hold to the crow’s nest and from the prow to the taffrail. He pointed out the Indian teak beams and the copper fastenings; he told them about the tonnage, the battery mounts, and the types of sail; he explained about the disposition of the crew of one-hundred-and-thirty-three men as well as a couple of dozen passengers. To Oswald and Pippa, it was all fascinating.
While he talked, Camilla studied him from under lowered lids. His blue uniform was trimmed with black velvet lapels and cuffs, and was embroidered with gold braid, not unlike officers of the Navy. It gave him a look of distinction that filled her with pride. And she was impressed by the diffident way in which the passing sailors greeted him. And the animation of his face while he spoke, and the way his hand lovingly caressed a rail or pole, completely revealed his feelings. He belonged here.
He took them to tea in the captain’s quarters, where the bronzed, heavily jowled captain greeted them kindly and chatted with them for the better part of an hour. Before they’d realized it, the sun had begun to set. “Looks like it’s time to disembark, as the sailors like to say,” Oswald announced.
“Before you go, Lord Falcombe—” Thomas began.
“Lord Falcombe, is it? You called me Oswald easily enough when you were nothing more than a footman. Surely you can do so now.”
“Oswald, then. Do you think you’d like to show Pippa the sailors’ mess? And the galley?”
“Oh, yes, Uncle Oswald, I’d like that,” Pippa said, her excitement boundless.
Oswald threw the young man a narrow-eyed look and laughed. “Come along then, Pippa. But I warn you that all this scurrying about is wearing me out.”
As soon as they were out of sight, Thomas took Camilla’s arm and led her across the deck to the port-side railing where they could look out to the sea and watch the setting sun. Her heart began acting strangely again. What, she wondered, was he preparing to say to her?
“Oswald told me what you did for me, Miss Camilla, and I—”
“I did nothing, Thomas. Nothing at all.”
“Nothing? You changed my condition of life from murderer to hero. From my point of view, that’s a very great deal.”
“Hero?”
He grinned. “Yes, so it seems. You should have seen me holding forth, spouting my views to all sorts of Important Personages—Admirals, MPs, even the Duke of York. Lord Jeffries couldn’t seem to stop parading me before anyone and everyone with an interest in British seamanship. I’m thankful that this place was found for me before I’d become completely transformed from sailor to speaker.”
“It’s wonderful, Thomas. I … we’re very proud of you.”
“But it’s all because of you. Oswald says he’d never have bothered about finding Jost if you hadn’t persisted. I’ve been waiting all these weeks to tell you how … how grateful I am.”
“Grateful?” She stared up at him, her heart sinking. “But you’re the one who told me—a very long time ago, it seems—that gratitude is a very pallid emotion.”
“I said it was a damned puny little emotion, and so it seemed when it was directed at me. But now, you see, it’s turned the other way. Now I feel what you were feeling … and I find it quite overwhelming.”
And now I feel what you were feeling, she thought, and I hate it! Gratitude! How very unsatisfactory it was when one wanted to inspire another type of emotion entirely. Oh, Thomas, she wanted to cry, is this all you wish to tell me? Is this why you sent Pippa and Oswald away? Have we nothing else to say to each other?
But she said nothing aloud, and they stood watching the sinking sun until Pippa and Oswald returned. Thomas escorted them to the gangplank, still sunk in silence. Oswald asked when the ship was to sail and how long the voyage was to be. Thomas answered, somewhat glumly, that they were to leave in a week for a three-month sail to the Indies. They shook hands vigorously, and Oswald wished him good fortune. Pippa kissed him goodbye and made him promise to visit them as soon as he returned. And, at the last, he kissed Camilla’s hand. It seemed to her that he held it a bit longer than he should have, but perhaps the impression had been only the inaccurate measure of her aching heart, seeking some small sign of hope.
They went down the gangplank, Camilla in a bewildering fog of despair. All the way back to London she was unaware of her surroundings and what Pippa and Oswald were saying. She must have responded coherently, for they showed no signs of being disturbed by her behavior, but she was not aware of having spoken to them at all.
The fog in her brain persisted for two days. Then a question that Pippa put to her at the breakfast table brought her up sharply. “Are you sure you haven’t taken a fancy to him?” the child asked.
“What?” Camilla asked, startled.
“I’m speaking of Thomas. Are you sure you haven’t taken a fancy to him?”
Camilla frowned. “You asked something of this sort before. I thought I’d answered you. Why do you bring it up again?”
“Because you’ve been acting very strangely since we visited the Athena. I know this subject is not one on which I have any knowledge, but it does seem to me that you’re in a state of confusion similar to lovers in books. They are always disturbed, distracted and distressed.”
“Pippa, you can sometimes be a very irritating child.” She propped her chin in her hands and looked at her daughter lugubriously. “But you’re right, of course. I am in a state of confusion.”
Pippa nodded knowingly. “I thought so. So is Thomas.”
“Thomas? What do you mean?”
“He seemed similarly distracted when we saw him.”
“Nonsense. I never noticed anything of the sort.”
“Well, I did. So did Uncle Oswald. He said he thought Thomas was sick.”
“Neither of you need worry,” Camilla mumbled. “If he felt anything at all, it was gratitude.”
Pippa shook her head dubiously. “I don’t think gratitude can make one sick, do you? He loves you, Mama, I’m sure of it.”
“You, my love, are letting your wishes get the best of your judgment.” She got up from her chair and began to wander absently round the room. “And even if he does, it makes little difference. He’s off to sea on a three-month voyage.”
“Not yet. They don’t sail until Thursday.”
She stopped in her tracks. “Pippa, you goose, what are you suggesting? That I rush back to Southampton and throw myself at him?”
Pippa considered the matter in all seriousness. “No,” she said after due reflection, “that wouldn’t be proper. But …” She looked up at her mother with a wicked glimmer. “… there’s something you can do.”
“Really?” Camilla asked with her eyebrows raised superciliously. “And what is that?”
“You could pack up some things and book passage on the ship. They take passengers, you know. Thomas said so.”
“Book passage?” The idea was so unexpected that she could only gape at her daughter in awe. But then she shook her head impatiently. “I know what’s in your mind, you little vixen. You’d like nothing better than to sail off to the Indies on Thomas’s ship.”
“I’d love it above anything, of course, Mama, but this time I think I’d better remain behind. You may take me on the next voyage, after your honeymoon is over.”
“Honeymoon! Honestly, Pippa, I can’t imagine where you pick up these ideas.”
“Everyone knows about honeymoons, Mama, even Sybil. By the way, I think I’d like to stay with her while you’re gone. Do you think Lady Sturtevant would permit it?”
“Yes, of course she would. Oh, good God, what am I saying? I really must be disturbed, distracted and distressed.” She dropped down on her chair, giving a little shiver of excitement. “Oh, Pippa, love, do you really think I should? It seems the most impulsive, irresponsible, wild sort of plan.”
Pippa grinned at her. “Yes, doesn’t it? It’s just the sort of thing Sybil might have thought of; I do believe I’m picking up some of her qualities at last. Isn’t that prodigious?”
“Prodigious,” Camilla agreed drily, making a face at her.
“Does that mean that you’ll do it?” Pippa’s face lit up with hope.
For a long moment her mother didn’t answer but stared speculatively into space. Then, with a little shake of her head, she roused herself and jumped up. “Very well, I’ll do it. I’ll go! So don’t just sit there, my girl. This is your idea, you know, and if it’s to succeed, you haven’t time to sit dawdling over breakfast. Come along. We have a thousand things to do!”
She seized her daughter’s hand and, laughing, pulled her to the door. But as they crossed the threshold, Camilla stopped short. “I’ve just had the most mortifying thought. What if, after the ship has put to sea, I discover that Thomas doesn’t want me after all?”
“He wants you. I’m sure of it.”
“But what if you’re mistaken? I know you’re very gifted, but you can make mistakes, you know.”
“Then, Mama,” Pippa answered with her remarkable aplomb, “at least you’ll see the Indies.”
***
There followed a flurry of packing and preparation that was unprecedented in Camilla’s experience. Miss Townley was convinced she’d lost her mind. Georgina, on the other hand, was enthusiastic. “It’s just the sort of madcap adventure every woman ought to have. And don’t worry about Pippa at all. After three months in my disorderly household, I’ll return your admirably well-bred daughter to you healthy, unharmed and transformed into a wildcat.”
Camilla felt as if she were living on the edge of hysteria. Her moods swung wildly between exhilaration and depression. In moments of optimism she packed her portmanteau with eager haste, only to pull everything out of it in fearful despondency a few moments later. She packed and unpacked three times in the next two days. But through it all, she knew she would go. For the first time she would gamble dangerously with life. The prospect made her blood dance in her veins. Never before had she felt so truly alive.
On the afternoon before her departure, while repacking the portmanteau for the fourth time, she realized that her favorite Norwich shawl was missing. Either Miss Townley or Betsy must have taken it to have it pressed. “Ada? Betsy?” she shouted like a hoyden. “Whose taken my shawl?”
There was no answer. Where were they? Unless the activities of the various members of the household could be better organized, she would never get off on time the next day. And if she departed late, she might arrive in Southampton and find that the ship had sailed without her!
Feeling more than ordinarily hysterical, she ran out of her room to the top of the stairs. “Hicks?” she called. “Can you come up here, please? I need some assistance.”
Again there was no answer. “Where is everybody?” she snapped impatiently. “Will someone come upstairs to me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” came a muffled voice from the nether region.
She sighed in relief. “Thank you, Daniel. And bring up the small hat box which I left on the table in the sitting room, will you?”
She dashed back to her bedroom and began to pull her hats and bonnets from her wardrobe. She tossed them, one after the other, on her bed. It was difficult to decide which headpieces would be most suitable for shipboard wear. After all, she’d never sailed to the Indies—or anywhere else—in her life and had no idea what the weather conditions would be. Small bonnets that could be firmly tied to the head would probably be best, she surmised.
There was a tap at the door. “Come in, Daniel,” she said, not looking round. “Just put the box on my dressing table, and then come and see if you can close the portmanteau.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The sound of the voice made her breath freeze in her chest. She wheeled around. “T-Thomas!”
He was standing in the doorway, dressed in his footman’s everyday livery and holding her hatbox before him as if it were a present on a silver tray … the very model of footmanly decorum. “Yes, ma’am?” he asked politely.
“Wh-What are you doing here?”
“You called, I believe.”
“Stop that!” she almost stamped her foot in impatience. “I don’t want to joke. What are you doing here?”
“I’m employed here, am I not, ma’am? I don’t believe I’ve been discharged. In fact, if I recall, you said I had a position here for as long as I wished.”
“You are not employed here! You’re the first mate of the Athena, and you are sailing tomorrow. Now what is this all about?”
“I was the first mate of the Athena. I’ve run off. I found that I couldn’t sail with her.”
“But that’s nonsense! You love every plank and sail of that ship. You belong there.”
“No, not after you’d been there.” He tossed the hatbox on a chair and came up to her. “I kept seeing you on the deck … and remembering what a coward I’d been that afternoon. I began to realize that there was no joy in it for me any more. You weren’t there, you see.”
“I don’t understand …”
“It became clear to me that I’d find life more bearable if I were close to you—even as your footman—than if I were far away as a seaman,” he said softly, smiling down at her.
Her knees seemed to give way. “Oh, Thomas!” she breathed, sinking down upon the bed, ignoring the fact that at least two of her bonnets were being crushed beneath her.
“May I not come back on the staff, ma’am? I shall be the most invisible, inaudible footman that ever was.”
She gave a tearful laugh. “A likely tale! You can’t be invisible and inaudible to me any more. I should always be watching you from the corner of my eye to see if you were going to pull me into your arms and kiss me, as you did so brazenly before.”
He grinned. “I can see where that might present some difficulties. Then if I won’t do as a footman, do you think you could try me as a husband? You’ve already given me a kind of trial. I didn’t do badly, did I?”
“No, you didn’t.” She looked down at the hands clenched in her lap. “I … liked you as a husband very much indeed.”
“Oh, Camilla!” He swept a few of the bonnets aside, sat down beside her and took her in his arms. “I do love you so,” he murmured and kissed her hungrily.
“But, Thomas,” she asked when she could speak again, “you cannot have been serious when you said that you’d run away from the Athena. You do want to sail on her, don’t you?”
“I’ve taken a day’s leave.” A small, worried frown creased his forehead. “But I won’t sail on her if you have objections to being a sailor’s wife. Hang it, Camilla, let’s not talk about it now. Ever since I let you leave the ship the other day, without telling you … I’ve been like a man possessed. I must kiss you again … just to convince myself that I really have you in my arms at last.”
After a while, she put her hands to his chest and held him off. “We are really behaving in a shockingly disreputable way,” she said, blushing. “This is my bedroom!”
“So it is.” He lifted his head and looked about him happily. “Do you know, my love, that you are sitting on your hats?”
“Am I?”
“In fact, the room seems in an inordinate state of disorder. I think you need another footman, ma’am. From the look of things, you need all the assistance you can afford.”
“I do not need another footman. I am going on a voyage, and a footman would be decidedly in the way. This confusion is only because I’ve been packing.”
“Packing? For a voyage?” A light seemed to flare up at the back of his eyes. “A voyage where?”
“To the Indies, of course. Where else?”
He grasped her shoulders with eager intensity and pulled her to him. “Oh, God! Don’t joke, woman! Were you really coming to me?”
“Yes, isn’t it shameful? I couldn’t bear to be without you either.” She lifted a hand to his cheek. “Don’t look at me in that adoring way, my love, or I shall cry. Do you think you might just … kiss me instead?”
