Authors: Susan Carroll
"I suppose your sister has told you that—"
Chloe cut him off. "Yes, she told us all about
that."
If Trent had expected any felicitations on his forthcoming
marriage from Miss Chloe, it was obvious he wasn't going to get them.
"I'll show you into the house now, shall I?" She
brushed past him and set off down the path at an astonishing pace, leaving
Trent to follow as he would.
She was a very odd young woman, Trent decided as he strode
after her. But he was too relieved at the prospect of finally being ushered
into the house to give her abrupt behavior much further consideration.
Round the front of the house, it appeared that Doughty had
managed to at least locate a groom. The young man was helping the steward unload
the baggage. Chloe paused to stare at the burly seaman with such fascination
that Trent felt obliged to introduce him.
"This is my steward, Miss Chloe. Mr. Doughty."
"Oh, he is much more what I had imagined that
you—" Whatever she had been about to say, she swallowed it with a guilty
look.
Burdened as he was by Trent's trunk, Doughty managed a bow
of sorts and flashed his infamous grin. "Morning, miss "
After staring a moment more, Chloe smiled back, a most dazzling
smile. Trent discovered that she had two dimples. He also reflected that she
had not given him such a smile of welcome. Though he did not know why that
should bother him, it did. He growled at Doughty to stop grinning and get the
baggage stowed inside.
"And after that, snag hold of that groom and see where
the deuce Mr. Lathrop has disappeared to!"
The event Chloe had so dreaded had come to pass. The captain
had arrived. Although she was ashamed to admit it and even felt it was wicked,
she had been offering up silent prayers since Emma had made her announcement
yesterday. Prayers that something might happen to keep Captain Trent's shadow
from their door, some adverse wind, some change in his orders. Better yet, some
change in his mind.
But those prayers must indeed have been wrong, for they had
gone unanswered. Here was the captain, striding across Windhaven's threshold,
and Chloe's acquaintance with him had not gotten off to the most auspicious
beginning.
If she had only recognized him at once, she could have saved
herself a deal of embarrassment. That was all Agnes's fault, spouting a bunch
of nonsense about rum-soaked tyrants who bellowed and waved cat-o'-nine-tails.
Captain Trent did not in the least resemble the fierce
sailor Chloe had been expecting. In fact, he appeared very much the gentleman,
from his fine-chiseled features to the gleaming tips of his boots. She would
not have taken him to be a seaman at all except for his deep tan and the
slightly rolling gait to his walk
When she ushered him into the drawing room, he glanced about
him with a slight frown. Never had the flaws in the chamber seemed so glaring
to Chloe, from the stain on the carpet to the splintered woodwork on the
window.
Although the captain hadn't said a word, Chloe felt obliged
to speak up, hating the defensive note in her own voice. "It's a
well-proportioned room, isn't it? And if you look out that window over there,
there is a lovely view."
"I am sure there is," the captain said politely.
He stripped off his cape, and Chloe could not restrain a small gasp. He looked
very much like a modern-day knight in his uniform, except that instead of the
shine of armor, he had gold epaulets affixed to a pair of broad shoulders. The
blue broadcloth jacket tapered to a trim waistline, a score of bright buttons
drawing attention to the breadth of his chest.
Seeming self-conscious beneath Chloe's stare, Trent
straightened his cuffs. "I suppose the uniform does look a little strange
in a lady's drawing room," he said.
"Oh, no. You look very handsome. That is, it does. I
mean the uniform—" She broke off, recollecting that this was the enemy she
was admiring, the man who had come to Windhaven to take their Emma away, to cut
up all their peace.
The captain acknowledged her compliment with a fleeting
smile. Chloe could not imagine why, but she had the distinct impression that
she made him a trifle nervous. Perhaps he thought her quite mad after that
business about the fairies.
She could try to offer some better explanation of her game
with Peggety. The child lived in a tumbledown cottage at the edge of the
village. She already knew too much of the grim realities of poverty. Let Emma
knit her wool caps and Old Meg fill the babe with hot soup. Sometimes a child
like that needed a good dose of peppermint drops and fairies as well. Chloe
thought it her duty to provide it.
Yet as she stole a glance into the captain's wintery gray
eyes, she doubted he would understand that. And if he could not understand
about Peggety, how was Chloe ever to make him understand Emma's being in love
with a poor clergyman?
Even though Trent's civilized appearance had proved a
relief, Chloe was as determined as ever to rescue her sister from a loveless
match. But it was one thing to resolve such a thing, another to find a way to
go about it.
Perhaps she could simply appeal to the captain's better
nature. He looked like a reasonable man, and yet… He might not be the
cutlass-bearing villain of her imaginings, but he didn't seem especially
approachable either.
As he waited for her sister, he stood before the fire, one
fist held rigidly against the small of his back. After a time, he said, "I
don't mean to trouble you, Miss Chloe, but I would appreciate it if you would
go and inform Miss Waverly of my arrival."
"Certainly, Captain Trent." But Chloe felt
reluctant to do so. It was foolish, she knew. As if she thought that by
dallying she could postpone the inevitable meeting forever. In any case,
matters were taken out of her hands, for Emma appeared at the door of the
drawing room herself.
"Chloe, Polly told me that a carriage has just been
pulled into the stable yard. Is it possible that Captain Trent has. .
." When Emma saw the captain, her words trailed away. One hand fluttered
first to her hair, and then down to wrench off the soiled apron she wore. A
deep blush stained her cheeks, and her lashes fluttered modestly downward.
Despite her disheveled state, Emma had never looked prettier. The captain would
never be persuaded to give Emma up now, Chloe thought gloomily.
However, Trent did not seem particularly bowled over by the
sight of Emma. He summoned his stiff smile. "Miss Waverly, I believe?'
Emma nodded, taking a few hesitant steps into the room, but
Captain Trent was already crossing to her side He made a smart bow and
then took Emma's hand. After a slight hesitation, he carried it brusquely
to his lips.
Chloe felt quite forgotten and miserably out of place.
Perhaps she should leave the two of them alone, but she wasn't about to do so,
not for all the fairy gold in the world.
Emma blushed more deeply and nervously retrieved her hand
from him. "Captain Trent, welcome to Windhaven. I am so sorry I was not on
hand to greet you."
"My fault entirely, ma'am, for being ahead of schedule.
I hope my untimely arrival will not cause you any great inconvenience?"
"No, not at all. Such a delightful surprise. Now you
will be here to share our Christmas Eve festivities. I have been up since
daybreak helping our cook with the mince pies and currant jellies."
A look of dismay crossed the captain's imperturbable
features. "You have been working in the kitchen, ma'am?"
"Well, yes. You see, our cook is getting on in years,
and we have but the one parlor maid."
"This is intolerable. I gave Mr. Martin strict instructions
that this house should be run in ship-shape fashion, all your comforts attended
to."
Chloe piped up indignantly, "Our house is well run,
Captain. Emma is an excellent housekeeper."
"I am sure she is, Miss Chloe. I did not mean to
criticize. My point is that she should not have to be." He turned to Emma,
saying earnestly, "Forgive me, my dear. I had no notion you had been
turned into a galley slave."
"Hardly that, Captain," Emma protested with a
laugh. "And, indeed, I have not minded the work. In fact, I rather
enjoy—"
But clearly the captain was not listening to her. He paced
off a few steps, his hands locked behind his back, his brow furrowed in
concentration. "A house this size needs a proper staff. You should have a
housekeeper, at least, a cook, several kitchen maids, a lady's maid for you,
Miss Waverly, and another for your sisters, a butler, and several
footmen."
Chloe bristled. Perhaps it would have been nice to have a
few more servants, but none of them wanted to see their cozy Windhaven run on
the formal lines of other great houses. She said, "It has always been our
way, Captain, to manage just as we are."
"Some ways must change, Miss Chloe," Trent said.
"I am deeply mortified. I fear that I owe all of you a great
apology." He directed his gaze toward Emma. "I have neglected my
responsibilities, leaving you and your sisters to struggle on alone in this
vast barracks of a house."
Chloe stiffened. For someone who said he didn't mean to
criticize, the captain had a habit of doing a good deal of it.
"What, pray, is wrong with our home?" Chloe asked.
"The captain's home, now," Emma gently told her.
Chloe was deeply chagrined at the reminder, the captain
scarce appearing less so.
"No, none of that, ma'am. Without question, this
is still your home as long as you wish."
For the first time, Chloe felt a little in charity with the
captain.
"That is, if it is still fit to be anyone's home,"
he finished. "Perhaps you and your sisters would care to live closer to
London."
Chloe's good feelings vanished.
"No, we wouldn't," she cried.
"Chloe!" Emma murmured, giving her a warning
nudge. Then she said to the captain in accents of appalling meekness, "Of
course, we shall do what you think best, Captain."
"Well, there is no need to decide anything immediately,"
Trent said. "I won't know the true extent of the disrepair at Windhaven
until I have subjected the house to a thorough inspection myself."
To Chloe's horror, Emma replied, "Oh, Chloe can help
you with that. No one is more familiar with all of Windhaven's little nooks and
crannies."
The captain did not seem much more delighted with the
suggestion than Chloe did, but he said with a polite nod, "I should be
vastly obliged to Miss Chloe."
That seemed to be settled, then, although Chloe felt sick at
heart. What would the captain say when he had a look at those sagging timbers
in the west wing? It would likely be all up with her beloved Windhaven. Captain
Trent was proving to be even more of a threat to all their happiness than she
had first imagined.
"Well," he said, briskly rubbing his hands.
"It would seem we have a great deal to attend to, Miss Waverly. We must
fix the exact time of our wedding. Then send your groom to fetch Mr. Martin to
me. Sit down with your sisters and compose me a list of your more immediate
needs. Miss Chloe, you will arrange a time at your earliest convenience for my
house inspection."
"Aye, aye, Captain," Chloe said, snapping to
attention, whipping off a sharp salute.
Captain Trent looked a little taken aback, and Emma was
aghast at this impertinence. "Chloe!"
Chloe shrugged. "I am sorry. There is just something
about Captain Trent that gives one an uncontrollable urge to salute."
"I seem to have that effect on a good many
people," the captain said gravely but with a twinkle in his eye. It was
the first glimmering of a sense of humor that Chloe had detected in the man,
but she was in no mood to appreciate it.
"I fear I am too accustomed to rapping out my orders.
You will have to be a little patient with me, Miss Chloe." He smiled at
her then, but Chloe maintained a stony front.
"You must be tired from your journey, Captain,"
Emma said, stepping uneasily into the breach. "Do let me have Polly show
you to your room."
In rather hasty fashion for the placid Emma, she fairly
shooed the captain out of the parlor. When he was out of earshot, she turned
back long enough to regard Chloe with mild reproof.
"Chloe, whatever has gotten into you? You were quite
rude to Captain Trent, not like yourself at all."
But she had no opportunity to scold further, for Lucy's
voice could be heard in the distance, calling out for Emma. She slipped out of
the room, leaving Chloe torn between indignation and misery.
What had gotten into her? Chloe thought bitterly. Oh, nothing
much. Only that Papa was gone, Windhaven was no longer theirs but owned
by this scornful captain, and Emma was preparing to marry this stiff-necked
stranger.
She fled the parlor and escaped to the sanctuary of her
room. She sat brooding on the window seat, her knees tucked up to her chin. She
turned over the little wooden statue of Saint Nicholas in her hands, frowning
into the figure's solemn eyes.
"The patron and protector of all unmarried
ladies," she grumbled. "Isn't it about time you started doing your
job?"
Burying her head against her knees, Chloe wished for nothing
except to be left alone, but it was not long before Agnes and Lucy came
bursting in upon her.
Lucy was bubbling with excitement. "Oh, Chloe, what are
you doing moping up here? Don't you know that Captain Trent has arrived and a
friend of his has just turned up as well?"
Lucy gave Chloe no chance to reply, continuing in a
breathless rush. "He is a Mr. Charles Lathrop, only an Honorable, but very
charming. And the captain is quite handsome and so dashing in his uniform,
those epaulets real gold. Not in the least the dunderheaded boor Agnes led us
to expect."
"I was only describing a hypothetical captain,"
Agnes said. "You girls really ought to learn the difference between theory
and fact."