Ransome's Honor (29 page)

“Captain Yates,” the officers saluted with their glasses.

Collin recovered faster than William had. “So, officers of
Alexandra,
what are your thoughts on your captain’s intended?”

As usual, Cochrane spoke first. “She is more lovely than I expected, sir. Well versed on many subjects. And seems as though she will be an excellent passenger.”

The others concurred.

“She knows enough of regulations and seafaring to have passed for lieutenancy,” Jack added. “When I told her which question I had been unable to answer at my first examination, she said the answer as if it were something every lady should know.”

“She will not send us to the big cabin for her parasol or to fetch her hat when it blows across the deck.” A high compliment from Blakeley, who’d regaled them over the years about his previous captain’s demanding wife.

“Of course, one always heard Admiral Sir Edward Witherington’s daughter spoken of with only the highest praise,” Eastwick said. “And she has far outstripped any fair description or compliment I have ever heard.”

“She is lovely.” Campbell blushed and kept his eyes cast down at the glass in his hands. “But seems sturdy enough to make the voyage with little complaint.”

“Sir,” O’Rourke turned to William. “Will she be happy alone on the ship?”

Loud laughter went up around the table.

“Alone?”

“Are you daft, man?”

“And shall we be invisible?”

O’Rourke scowled, the thin scar under his right eye going white. “What I mean is, there will be no other women aboard for her to keep company with, sir.”

The raillery died away.

William raised his brows. “Are you suggesting we should hire on some women crew members to keep her company?”

Even O’Rourke had to smile at the absurdity of the idea. “No, sir. I just wondered why she is not bringing a maid or a companion along for company. She will have nothing to do and no one to speak to.”

Collin snorted. “I like that, William. Your lieutenants have such respect for you, they think your wife will not want to speak to you.”

O’Rourke flushed nearly purple. “No, sir! I meant no disrespect—”

William raised his hand and smiled at the young man. “I know, Patrick. I do take your meaning, and I commend you highly for being concerned for Miss Witherington’s welfare and happiness. I share your concern and will speak to her and see if she wishes a traveling companion.” Even as he said it, the thought of having to accommodate another woman rankled.
Another
woman aboard his ship! Thank goodness both Julia and Collin had already told Susan she could not go...but whom might she choose? He had never seen her with another female companion aside from her aunt—he shuddered. Frightening though the thought might be, no real concern rose in that quarter.

“Well, men, I believe we have deprived the ladies of our company long enough.” Collin stood; William and his lieutenants did likewise and followed their host up to the parlor.

The gravity of the four women in the parlor immediately stifled William’s good humor. Susan nudged Julia. “You must tell him. Coffee and conversation can wait.”

The other men’s mirth vanished, and they looked from William to Julia in great wonder. Julia’s distressed gaze met his. He crossed to her and extended his hand. She took it, and once again hers trembled.

“Mrs. Yates, please excuse us for a moment.” He inclined his head to Susan and led Julia across the hall. He took a candle from a sconce in the hall and lit several in the sitting room. He released Julia’s hand only after securing the door behind them to ensure their privacy. No one in the house would care that they had no chaperone.

“What has happened?”

She wrapped her arms around her middle and paced away from him, the entire length of the room, and returned before speaking. “A man, a debt collector, came to the house today looking for Sir Drake.”

“You have waited to tell me this until now? And only at Susan’s prompting?” Keeping his voice neutral, removing all the simmering anger from it, nearly proved his undoing. She had told the women, who could offer no assistance nor protection—

“I planned to speak to you when an opportune moment arrived.” Julia’s green eyes flashed in the dim light. “He did nothing, merely left his card to give Sir Drake.” She shivered. “But I do not believe it is the last we will see of him.”

“Yes, he will most likely watch your house as well as Pembroke’s. I will see you home tonight. Julia, I—” He took a fortifying breath that did nothing to fortify him. “I wish us to be married as soon as possible.”

“I agree. In fact, I had already planned to speak to you of it tonight.”

“Does early next week suit?”

A half-smile brought a dimple to Julia’s left cheek, and she rested her hand on his arm. “It suits me, but I shall have to check with Susan to see if it suits her and Lady Dalrymple.”

His arm tingled under her touch. “I shall arrange it and let you know the day as soon as it is settled.” He raised her hand to kiss the backs of her fingers.

Julia’s smile faded, her eyes following her hand to his lips. The few candles he’d lit heated the room to an extraordinary temperature. He released her hand and opened the door.

“We had best return to the others.” He motioned her to exit ahead of him.

“Yes. We’d best.” She floated out of the room, her gown glowing like an ember.

He snuffed the candles and joined her in the hall, shaking off a strange light-headedness. “Was there anything else this debt collector said to you?”

Julia frowned at him in confusion until comprehension dawned. “I asked him how much Sir Drake owed him. He said his employer holds a twenty thousand pound mortgage on Marchwood—the house and much of the grounds—and will be calling for full payment Monday unless Sir Drake can pay it and five thousand in interest by then. He also said Sir Drake has been losing quite a bit in recent days. No doubt gambling to try to win enough to pay this creditor. But how much more is he incurring?”

Aghast at such a sum, William stared at her for a moment.

“If I had the money, I would purchase the mortgage note myself—not to save Sir Drake, mind you, but out of respect for my mother’s childhood home.”

He trailed her into the parlor. Purchase Marchwood estate? The admiral had spoken of it as good farming country—good for raising sheep—and several mills were attached to the property. And according to Sir Edward, it lay only a couple hours’ drive from Portsmouth. He could put good men to work and provide himself with an additional source of income—himself and Julia. Collin and Susan could stay there when they wished to escape Portsmouth.

Purchase Marchwood estate. To what better use could he put Julia’s bridal legacy?

Chapter Twenty-Nine

A
lexandra
hardly moved at her mooring, but the faint motion of the harbor waves rocking the ship from side to side brought William to his knees. He knelt in his sleeping cabin, now half-filled with the hanging box-bed, overwhelmed by joy.

“Thank you, almighty Father, for bestowing upon your servant the answer to my prayer. Bless this ship and continue to bless her crew. Make me a captain worthy of them and guide me with your omnipotent hand to earn their trust and loyalty.”

“Captain.” Cochrane stopped short at the door.

“And, Lord, please teach my first officer how to knock. Amen.” William stood. “Yes, Mr. Cochrane?”

“Sir, the midshipmen are gathered on the dock, ready to come aboard. Dawling is with them.”

“Excellent.” William shrugged into his uniform coat and buttoned it, striding out of his cabin onto the sunny, sparkling quarterdeck. “All hands!”

The lieutenants and warrant officers gathered around him.

“Launch boats and go pick up our little gentlemen. Ned, take the crew logbook with you so we have an accurate accounting of whom we are bringing aboard. Remember, only those who formerly served aboard
Alexandra
may sign on now. After the crew return next week, if we are short in any positions, we will sign on new mids or sailors at that time.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Ned touched the fore point of his hat.

William repeated the gesture. “Mr. Ingleby, you are with me.”

The ship’s master knuckled his forehead. “Aye, aye, Cap’n.”

As soon as three of the cutters were in the water and pulling toward the dock, William and Ingleby turned their attention to inspecting the helm, binnacle, and wheel housing, passing the next hour examining each peg, nail, and piece of metal or wood.

“Hoy, the
Alexandra!”

William left the helm and went to the waist entry port. “Who goes?”

Cochrane saluted. “First Lieutenant Cochrane for
Alexandra,
sir. Request to come aboard.”

William’s smile claimed half his mouth before he could stop it. “Permission to come aboard granted. Midshipmen may enter by the main deck entry port, stow their dunnage, and report to me on the quarterdeck.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Each of the six young men in Cochrane’s boat touched the flat, round brims of their hats, grinning like schoolboys on holiday. The second boat arrived with six more midshipmen, and William gave them the same orders. Twelve midshipmen—meaning four more would have to be found next week.

The warrant officers, in the smallest boat, arrived last and hurried up the accommodation ladder to rig the bosun’s chair to haul William’s trunk and furniture.

He followed the men into his cabin and tried not to notice their knowing glances at the sight of the fancy, large bed. Dawling came to the day cabin as soon as he stowed his dunnage in his own quarters. William dismissed the other sailors.

“Report.”

“I seen the minister this morning. He said he can marry you on Tuesday morning, so I did as you said and saw to the arranging of it.”

William’s collar chafed against the sudden sweat on the back of his neck. “Very well.”

“And then I went to see about posting your letter. I seen the express rider there, ready to go, but the clerk said I must pass the letter through him. But then, sir—you remember how that one time you pointed out that Pembroke fellow to me?—well, sir, I saw him talking to the postmaster, and it looked like Pembroke was giving him money.”

The perspiration turned to shards of ice on William’s skin. “You saw money change hands between Pembroke and the postmaster?”

“I can’t say for sure and certain, sir, but it appeared so to me. So I told the clerk I would watch him frank the letter and then I would carry it out to the express rider, who had already gone outside. The clerk figured I was wise to him, so he franked the letter and I gave it to the rider, and I watched him put it in his pouch and ride off on the road to London.”

William stared out the stern windows at another ship moored a hundred yards away. No wonder neither he nor Julia had heard from the admiral. Pembroke had bribed the postmaster to intercept their letters.

How could he marry Julia without the admiral’s knowledge? How could he
not
marry her and leave her unprotected from the rest of her relatives?

“ Sir.?”

“Thank you, Dawling. That is all—wait. Is my writing desk in my sea chest?”

“Yes, sir.” Dawling made to move into the sleeping quarters.

“Never mind. I will get it myself.Report to Lieutenant Cochrane; he will have duties for you.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

William unlocked and opened his flat-topped trunk. The past three weeks had made quite an improvement in Dawling’s skills—if Dawling had indeed packed the neat, orderly trunk on his own. He found the mahogany box with ease, closed the lid of the chest, and placed the writing desk atop it—opening it out to expose the leather-covered writing surface. He withdrew paper from the large compartment under the top of the writing surface and sat on the floor beside his sea chest.

He would have to proceed with the wedding and beg Sir Edward’s forgiveness later.

“Miss Witherington?”

Julia looked up from her book. “Yes, Creighton?”

“There’s a young man, a midshipman, at the door who wishes to speak to you. He will not tell me his name or purpose.”

She marked her place in the thick, new novel, purchased just this morning and meant to be kept to read on the long voyage. In the entry foyer stood a young man, no older than sixteen or seventeen, dressed in a midshipman’s uniform, perusing the trinkets her father had bought through the years in various ports of call, displayed on a narrow table.

He snapped to attention when she cleared her throat. “Afternoon, Miss Witherington. Cap’n Ransome asked me to deliver this to you and to carry back any message in response.”

She masked her amusement with raised brows and angling her head askance. “And whom do I have the honor of receiving?”

He flushed dark red. “Sorry, miss. Josiah Gibson. I’m a midshipman aboard the
Alexandra.”
He fumbled with his tall, round black hat.

“Thank you, Mr. Gibson.” She took the folded note from the lad and slid her thumb under the seal.

My dear Miss Witherington,

If you are agreeable, I have fixed Tuesday as the day for us to be married at the Church of Saint Thomas at nine o’clock in the morning. I have sent an express to London to inform your father. I will leave it to you to inform Susan and Collin.

Please send word with Mr. Gibson to let me know if after Tuesday I may address you as my dear Mrs. Ransome.

Yours faithfully,

Wm. Ransome

Skin feeling too tight and hot, she refolded the note and turned. “Creighton, please take Mr. Gibson to the kitchen for some refreshment. I’ll be in the library.”

The butler nodded and ushered the boy through the door at the end of the hall. Julia returned to her father’s study and helped herself to parchment, pen, and ink from his desk.

She dashed off a note to William and took it down to the kitchen. Midshipman Gibson—was he the one the lieutenants had spoken of as the extraordinary singer?—tried to stand and leave his refreshments barely touched. Julia insisted he stay until he finished the shortbread and cider, plying him with questions about his duties and what the officers and captain of
Alexandra
were doing today.

She walked with him to the front door and had Creighton pay the hackney driver for the extra time he had been made to wait.

Creighton returned. “I take it the note was not ill news?”

“No. The opposite. I am to be married Tuesday. You are the first to know.”

“Once again, I wish you joy, miss.”

“Thank you. Have Elton bring Father’s barouche around. I must go see Mrs. Yates.”

“Yes, miss.”

She sighed, looking up the wide, dark wood stairs. “And I suppose I should tell Lady Pembroke and Lady MacDougall.”

Creighton cocked a brow and shook his head in a better-you-than-me gesture and left her to go fetch Elton. Julia stared up the stairs. At least one of the women would be happy for her.

The door of the sitting room stood open. Both women looked up from their needlework when Julia cleared her throat.

“To what do we owe this...honor?” Augusta’s eyebrows raised nearly to her dark hair.

“I have come, ma’am, to let you know that my wedding date has been set—for Tuesday morning.” Julia swallowed hard. “If you would like to attend, you would be welcome.”

The two ladies exchanged glances. Julia backed toward the door.

Lady MacDougall’s smile crinkled her porcelain skin. “We must celebrate. Will you not stay and take tea with us?”

“Thank you, my lady, but I must decline. I am on my way out to make a call. I will most likely not be back for dinner.” Susan would insist Julia stay. “Please excuse me.”

Entering her own room, she startled Nancy, who turned from putting folded underthings into a drawer in the wardrobe. “Quickly, Nancy, I must change into something suitable for tea or dinner. I have two calls I must make this afternoon and need to appear presentable.”

Fifteen minutes later, dressed in a twilight blue gown embellished with Greek-key design in silver, hair down as she preferred, Julia returned downstairs.

“Afternoon, miss.” Elton touched his hat as he offered his assistance to hand her up into the barouche. “Where to?”

“Lady Dalrymple’s first. That will be a short call.”

But Lady Dalrymple’s butler informed them her ladyship was not in when they arrived at the massive, ancient stone manor. Julia left a card and directed Elton to turn the horses toward the Yateses’ home.

“Sir, Mr. Gibson’s returned.”

William looked up from the purser’s account book when Dawling entered the cabin. “Thank you. Please show him in. Mr. Holt, you are excused for now. We will continue this shortly.” He longed to remove his coat but tried to ignore the stifling heat coming in short puffs through the open stern windows.

Midshipman Gibson entered, removed his hat, and stood at attention.

“Did you see Miss Witherington?”

“Aye, sir.”

William crossed his arms. “Describe her to me.” He wouldn’t put it past Lady Pembroke to have locked Julia away in her room and have a housemaid dress in one of Julia’s frocks—

“Er, well,” Gibson sputtered. “She’s about so tall,” he held his hand up level with his own nose, “with dark hair...oh, and green eyes.”

That could pass as a description of her. “And what did she say to you?”

“She asked me whom she was addressing, and then she told the butler to take me to the kitchen for a refreshment—and I had no thought other than water. But the cook, sir, she wouldn’t rest without I ate some shortbread and cider. And then Miss Witherington came down to the kitchen—aye, sir she came to the kitchen as if she does it all the time—and gave me this for you.” He extended his hand.

William took the folded packet. The outside bore
Captain Sir William Ransome, HMS Alexandra
in a hand he didn’t recognize. He’d expected it to be more flowing and artistic, not plain and angular, each letter formed clearly but without exaggerated tails or flourishes, the way his mother and sister wrote.

He cleared his throat. “Did she say anything else?”

Gibson shook his head, his sandy curls dancing about his cheeks and collar. The lad needed his hair trimmed. William would see all the officers were properly groomed before Julia—before Admiral Glover made inspection next week.

“Thank you, Mr. Gibson. Please see Mr. Cochrane for your duty assignment.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.” The midshipman nodded and exited, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

William sat on his sea chest and popped the wax seal, impressed with an intertwined, script
TD.

My dear Captain Ransome,

Tuesday is an agreeable day for you to begin addressing me as your dear Mrs. Ransome. As soon as I finish writing and send Mr. Gibson back to you, I will call upon Susan and Collin to let them know of the date and let Susan fly into a whirl of panic as she will now only have Saturday and Monday for the final preparations for the wedding breakfast.