“Heartless creature! Think of my sufferings.”
The captain snorted.
“Perhaps if we ask at once we shall find one we can go aboard immediately,” Cordelia suggested, “while you are accustomed to the motion.”
James shook his head. “I must present my respects to the Governor first.”
They reached the shore at that moment, so Cordelia did not ask why he had to call upon the Governor. A swarm of people awaited them: hawkers shouting wares from buttons to parrots; agents of ships’ chandlers eager for the
Columbia
’s business, converging on the purser as he stepped from the pinnace; harlots jiggling their exposed bosoms as they ogled the sailors; porters nearly coming to blows as they swooped on James’s and Cordelia’s bags. There were faces of every colour, ivory, yellow, pink, brown, ebony. Spaniards, Turks, Africans, Maltese, Jews, Moors, Gypsies, a dozen other races, all in their own costumes, all gabbled in English of varying degrees of comprehensibility.
“Your papers, please.” A scarlet-coated, ruddy-faced soldier shouldered through the mob. He flipped in a desultory way through Captain Barlow’s ship’s papers, then saluted. “Staying long, Captain?”
“As short as I can make it,” Barlow snapped. “I’ve to see the American Consul and my men will pick up some supplies.”
“No shore leave?”
“No!” The captain glared at a saucy Spanish wench in a black lace mantilla and not much else, who removed her hand from his sleeve as quick as if he’d bared his teeth and bitten her.
Winking at her, the soldier handed Barlow his papers. “Very good, sir. All in order.” He turned to James and Cordelia. “You’re with the
Columbia
, sir, madam?”
“Off, not with.” James handed over their papers. “We are homeward bound to England. Is Lord Godwin Halsey still Governor here?”
“Yes, sir. You’re bound for the Governor’s Residence? You’ll want a cotchy, as they calls a hackney here. There’s a couple waiting.”
Two men immediately jumped forward from amongst the remaining crowd, many having dispersed as the Americans departed. “
Señores, mi coche
is mos’ fast, mos’ comf’able, mos’ cheapest!” they both screeched. Beyond them Cordelia saw two rickety open carriages painted in bright colours, each with a single bony nag waiting patiently with drooping head.
James shook his head. “I believe we shall walk, shall we, Cordelia? It’s not far.”
“Yes, I shall be glad of the exercise.” She thought he had looked somewhat dismayed to hear that Lord Godwin Halsey was still governor. Was his lordship conversant with his more disreputable exploits? But if so, why did James still insist on paying his respects instead of just going to an inn? She would not be able to ask him in an open carriage with a driver who understood English.
“Perhaps, sergeant, you’d be so good as to advise me which of these fellows is least likely to make off with our baggage?” James waved at the still squabbling porters.
Grinning, the soldier picked one. “Welcome to the Rock,” he said, handing back their papers. The makeshift credentials provided by Major Saunderson had proved adequate. They set off for the town.
Up close, the protective wall was even more impressive than from a distance. Like the fortress looming over the town on a spur of the Rock, it was originally built by the Moors a thousand years ago. Much of the oldest work remained, added to and patched over the centuries by the Spanish and the English. James pointed out the marks made by cannonballs during the Spanish-French siege three decades ago. They had chipped the wall but no more demolished it than a woodpecker demolishes a tree.
At present, Cordelia was more interested in the future than the past. “Why does it trouble you that Lord Godwin is still here?” she asked as they passed through an arch beneath the wall.
“Did it show?” He grimaced. “The trouble is not so much Halsey as his wife, Lady Millicent. She is a cousin of my mother’s, and she knows very well I have no sisters.”
“Need she find out we are here?”
“The place is so small—and its genteel society still smaller—that it’s inevitable. She would be shockingly offended if I tried to evade her. Besides, I must speak to Halsey. No, I shall introduce you as my betrothed and we shall say—”
“Your betrothed! Oh, but we cannot. Sooner or later they will return to England and find out we are not married.”
“We shall be. I told you it is necessary.”
“We shall not.” If only he spoke of love and not necessity!
“My dear girl, there’s no time to argue about it now,” James said impatiently. “For now we are affianced.”
“Oh, very well. You can always tell her later you jilted me.”
“Certainly not! A devil of a scoundrel I should look.”
“Then tell her I jilted you.”
“And look a fool? But never mind that now.” He pointed ahead down the narrow main street. “The porter is already at the door of the Residence. Listen. You were travelling with a maid, an abigail—an Italian girl would be best, I daresay. What was her name?”
“Violetta,” Cordelia said. “That was the name of my mother’s abigail at Arventino. What happened to her? Why is she not with me?”
“Captain de Castilho told her such tales of the English climate, she stayed aboard the
Flor do Campo
to Sardinia, hoping to find her way home. So she was with you until just a few days ago when we joined the
Columbia
. We’ll make much of Barlow’s Puritanism. Quick, what is your father’s name?”
“Sir Hamilton Courtenay of Hill House, Fenny Sedgwick, Norfolk, but why?”
“Sir Hamilton heard I was travelling to the East and begged me to escort you home. Pray that Lady Millicent is not acquainted with him.”
“What was I doing in the East? How—?”
“Oh lord, it’s too late to work it all out.” He stopped beside the porter and fished in his pocket for a coin. The sentry at the door stepped forward to ask their business. “Lady Millicent Halsey is my cousin. Please inform her or my lord that James Preston is here.”
They were shown into a small, square anteroom to one side of the front door. The Governor’s Residence was one of the few old buildings in the town, most having been destroyed by the Spanish-French bombardment. Once a Franciscan monastery, it seemed to Cordelia to retain an atmosphere which reminded her of the Orthodox monastery where they had been snowbound. At least she did not have to pretend to be a boy; she hoped she would not have to feign illness as an excuse to keep to her chamber to avoid awkward questions.
Inspiration struck. “I was never in Istanbul,” she whispered to James. “I was sent for my health to a relative by marriage in Sicily, for the climate. I shall endeavour to look as if I recently recovered from a consumption.”
“Splendid! Just transpose Arventino to somewhere near Syracuse.”
She nodded, and drooped languidly on her chair as a footman in buff livery came in.
“We are still betrothed,” James hissed in her ear, giving her his arm. “I fell in love at first sight.”
No chance to protest as the footman bowed them from the room. Wishing it were true, she leaned heavily on his arm and they followed the servant along a stone-flagged passage.
Lady Millicent’s sitting-room had nothing of the monastery about it. Elegant chairs in eggshell-blue and white striped satin complemented blue and silver striped wall hangings. The dark blue curtains and thick grey carpet were not striped, but her ladyship’s modish sarcenet gown was, in buttercup and white. A handsome woman, she wore her dark hair arranged in ringlets beneath a cap of layered lace. Her complexion undamaged by the southern sun, she appeared to be in her late thirties.
Her glance raked Cordelia, who instantly felt horridly dowdy. The pink muslin was already faded from the sun and from washing in sea-water, and the hem had been dirtied in the pinnace. Her hair was still not long enough to do anything but pin it up roughly at the back of her neck. Even her beautiful straw hat now seemed drearily provincial.
Her ladyship would never believe James had fallen in love at first sight with such a perfect fright.
Chapter 28
“Miss Courtenay, Mr. Preston,” announced the footman.
“Dear James,” cooed Lady Millicent as he bowed over her hand. “How delightful to see you again. You will stay with us, of course, while you are at Gibraltar.”
“It’s kind of you, but we would not wish to inconvenience you, cousin.” He had hoped against hope to be able to escape her prying with no more than a brief recitation of their story. “We can perfectly well go to an inn.”
“I will not hear of it, I vow. You shall stay. But, la! do make me known to your companion.”
“Allow me to present Miss Cordelia Courtenay, ma’am. We are affianced.”
“Affianced?” Her ladyship’s plucked eyebrows rose in a fine display of incredulity. “Indeed!”
Cordelia curtsied. “How do you do, my lady.”
Lady Millicent nodded graciously. “Pray be seated, Miss Courtenay. Would that be the Kent Courtenays? Or the Berkshire Courtenays?”
“The Norfolk Courtenays, ma’am.”
“Norfolk, hmm. I don’t believe I am acquainted... yet there is something oddly familiar... Do tell me, James, how did you come to meet Miss Courtenay? The last we saw of you, you were eastward bound.”
“Our meeting was arranged before I left England. Cordelia’s father, Sir Hamilton, heard through my uncle that I was bound for the Mediterranean. He begged me to escort her home from Sicily, where she had been sent for her health, to stay with connexions by marriage of her family.” Too much unnecessary detail, he thought, bound to arouse suspicion. Keep it simple.
“I trust you are fully recovered, Miss Courtenay? La, but how silly of me, I vow! Your papa would not send for you until he heard of your recovery, and it is over a year since James was here with us so you have had quite enough time to regain your full strength.”
“Yes, ma’am, I am quite well.” Straightening, Cordelia abandoned her languid pose, unconvincing at best as her rosy cheeks and bright eyes were a picture of vitality.
“We have had an arduous voyage,” James said quickly in an attempt to cover the sudden change. “Wait until you hear our adventures, cousin. We—”
“I am all agog, but first I must scold you, James. How shockingly inconsiderate in you to keep Miss Courtenay waiting so long! She must have quite despaired of ever returning home. I daresay it was quite impossible to find another escort, Miss Courtenay?”
“I-I expect it might have been possible, ma’am, but...but my relatives pressed me to stay and I was enjoying my visit. Once my health improved, of course,” she hastened to add.
“Of course. You must have been relieved, however, when James did at last arrive.”
“I came, I saw, I was conquered. It was love at first sight, cousin.”
“On your part, also, Miss Courtenay? Nay, I shall spare your blushes. A prodigious romantic tale, I do declare.” Her voice was full of malicious disbelief. “I only trust you did not set my cousin up in his own conceit by allowing him to see your partiality too soon! But then, you have had so little time. How long does it take to sail hither from Sicily, James?”
“I stayed a few days at the count’s estate before we embarked.” Dammit, more unnecessary detail to be remembered. “And the voyage was long enough, in all truth, on that confounded Portuguese tub, even before we were taken by the corsairs.”
“Corsairs! My dear, you have had the most shocking adventures indeed. You must tell me all about it. But I daresay Miss Courtenay will not wish to hear a recitation which must revive painful memories. Your abigail must have unpacked for you by now, Miss Courtenay. I am sure you must be anxious to go up and...” she paused, looking Cordelia up and down, “...and tidy yourself.”
James stood up as Cordelia rose, murmuring her thanks. “There is no abigail,” he said. “The wretched girl—a Sicilian—deserted us after the affair of the pirates.”
“No abigail? How very unfortunate!”
“Perhaps your maid might assist Cordelia?”
“By all means.” Lady Millicent rang the bell and gave instructions to the footman who appeared. “And bring refreshments,” she added. “I expect, Miss Courtenay, you will like a cup of tea. Do return as soon as you are ready.”
Accompanying Cordelia to the door, James whispered, “Don’t despair, you are not on your way to the scaffold.”
With a disconsolate look, she departed. He turned back, to be poniarded by her ladyship’s cynical smile.
“My dear James, there was no need to spin me that unlikely tale. You know I am no puritan. I am quite willing to put up your doxy as long as you are discreet.”
“Cordelia is no doxy!” he said irately.
“Well, you cannot describe her as a Bird of Paradise! A drab would be closer to the mark. What the deuce do you see in her?”
“Enough to make me determined to marry her when we reach England. She is no lightskirt.”
“If you truly mean to marry her—to save her reputation, I suppose—then why not do it here?”
“I should prefer to have Sir Hamilton’s permission before we wed.”
Lady Millicent laughed jeeringly. “No fear you will not get it. A country baronet... Wait! Sir Hamilton Courtenay... Now I have it. She must be Drusilla Courtenay’s daughter. Courtesan Courtenay! No, no, my dear, the girl’s a harlot, and I do not take it kindly that you tried to mislead me!”
James had not the least notion what to say to persuade her of Cordelia’s innocence. At the same time, he would give a monkey to find out what she knew of Lady Courtenay, yet he’d look a proper nodcock if he revealed his ignorance. Courtesan Courtenay? His heart ached for Cordelia, but not for a moment did he doubt her chastity. He knew her far too well.
To his relief, the footman returned with a tray of refreshments and announced, “His lordship is free to see you now, sir, in his office.”
“Then why did you bring the tray, dolt?” snapped his mistress. “Take it away, and bring fresh tea when Miss Courtenay comes down.”
“Be kind to her, cousin,” James warned, “or I shall be very angry. Very angry indeed.”
“I tremble in my shoes, to be sure,” she said sarcastically, but she looked a trifle disquieted. “She may stay here, but do not expect me to introduce her about!”