Carola Dunn (8 page)

“Time is what we do not have, my dear. We must leave the day after tomorrow, with you or without. Perhaps talking to John will help you make up your mind. Will you see him?”

“Oh dear, I must look a shocking fright!” She slipped off the bed and peered into the mirror on her dressing table. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face blotchy, and her hair escaping wildly from its coiled braids.

Teresa poured some water from the ewer into the basin. Rebecca splashed her face then poked a few hairpins into the disarray above.

“That will do very well,” said Teresa firmly. “He is far too concerned to notice your appearance. I do hope he can allay your apprehension, for the more I think about it, the more I see that we shall find it difficult to manage without you.”

John was waiting on the landing, leaning against the balustrade with his back to her. Dressed in black, in accordance with the dictates of the long-discredited George Brummell, his tall, broad-shouldered form was an impressive silhouette against the lights in the hall below.

Rebecca went to stand beside him.

Without looking at her, he said quietly, “Forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive.” She laid her hand on his arm, feeling the restless energy pent in the taut muscles. “I must learn to overcome my stupid sensitivity.”

“You have nothing to fear from me.” He turned, his dark eyes serious. “Never. Not ever, I promise you. I cannot deny that I have my faults, but brutality to women is not one of them. Will you come?”

His gentleness, his wry smile, were irresistible.

“I will come,” she said.

His natural exuberance won through. “You can come out of hiding, Teresa,” he whooped. “She’ll go with us!”

Lady Parr’s reaction to the news was quite the reverse. After a long tirade on ingratitude, she prophesied dire consequences. Rebecca listened patiently to her reproaches, but John stormed off in search of his brother.

“Tom,” he cried, bursting into the billiard room, “you must do something about Rebecca’s fortune.”

“Devil take it, you’ve ruined my shot.” Tom straightened with an indignant glare. “Just when I was about to get my revenge over Graylin.”

“Rebecca’s fortune?” asked Andrew, regarding the table thoughtfully and chalking his cue. “Do I gather that Miss Nuthall is not going to accompany us to Russia?” He bent over the green baize and took careful aim.

“Yes, she is, but there’s no knowing how long you will need her, and it is intolerable that she should be dependent on such as Lady Parr.”

“Just what am I supposed to do about this mythical fortune?” enquired Tom sourly, watching Andrew score a cannon.

“I gather her uncle receives the income until she is twenty-five, unless she marries. That seems scarcely just when she no longer resides with him. There must be some way to ensure that the money goes to her.”

“I suppose I might have my lawyer look into it. There! A hazard! All even again. But don’t mention it to Rebecca for there’s no knowing what may come of it.”

“Thanks, old fellow,” said John with a sigh of satisfaction.

Chapter 7

The bustling port of Kingston upon Hull merged with the grey overcast as the brig
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sailed out into the Humber estuary. Standing at the rail, with John at her side, Rebecca pulled her cloak close about her. The sense of shared adventure was as frightening as it was exhilarating.

She shivered.

‘You are cold?” John asked. “Both wind and waves will pick up as we near the North Sea, I collect. We had best go below to join those blasé world travellers.”

“Is it not amusing to see Esperanza make herself at home on board?” Rebecca was glad of his steadying arm as the deck rolled beneath her. “She kindly told me I might take the bunk since she prefers to sleep in a hammock.”

“You will not mind sharing with her?” He helped her down the companionway, ducking to avoid the low beam on which he had earlier hit his head.

“No, how could I object after Teresa told us how she shared a cabin with Muriel, Cousin Adelaide, their abigail and Annie all the way across the Atlantic! And Sir Andrew shared with her brother and the parrot.”

John laughed. “I was properly put in my place for grumbling at the size of my accommodation. Only think, I have a space almost as big as a horse’s stall all to myself. At least Gayo is lodged in the saloon this time.”

The
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was laden with cotton and woollen goods from the mills of Lancashire and Yorkshire, and machinery besides, but she had been designed to carry passengers too. The four tiny cabins and cramped saloon were adequate, if not as luxurious as Teresa jokingly claimed.

Rebecca was too busy to notice the crowded conditions. First thing each morning she dressed Esperanza, brushed her hair and tied it with her favourite pink ribbon. After she dressed herself and they broke their fast, Rebecca took the little girl up on deck for fresh air and exercise, usually accompanied by John. Most of the rest of the day was occupied in Russian studies.

Sir Andrew had decided that Rebecca and John must learn the Russian alphabet. Their first morning out of port, he sat them down at the table in the saloon with a list of letters and their English equivalents. Rebecca stared at it in dismay.

“Cheer up,” said John, “I daresay it is not as bad is it looks. Even I managed to learn the Greek alphabet without too much trouble.”

“This is derived from the Greek,” Andrew told them. “If you want something really difficult, try learning to read Chinese.”

Gayo added what was probably a pungent oath in Chinese. Andrew and Teresa took charge of Esperanza, leaving John and Rebecca to struggle with the ‘t’s that looked like ‘m’s
and ‘r’s that looked like ‘p’s and a sort of a ‘w’
with a tail that was pronounced “shch.”

Each day, as soon as Annie recovered from her morning sickness and was able to care for Esperanza, Rebecca resumed the role of teacher. The time flew by, and soon the
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was threading her way past the Danish islands. The weather was fine, and they all spent as much time as possible on deck, practising their Russian conversation as they watched the scenery glide by.

John had quickly mastered the alphabet, but his tongue still tied itself in knots when he tried to speak the language. Teresa laughed at his pronunciation, saying Gayo’s was vastly better, and though John joked about it Rebecca could see that he was mortified. Andrew, however, was not at all disturbed.

“The important thing is that he should understand,” he assured Rebecca.

So she walked the deck with him, speaking in Russian while he responded in English. She told him about her childhood, memories revived by the use of the language she had learned at her grandmother’s knee. Whenever she paused he was quick to prompt with a question, and she wondered wistfully whether he was at all interested in understanding her as well as her speech.

One sunny morning they stood by the rail, gazing at the distant line of the Polish coast. A brisk westerly bellied the sails of the
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and she cut through the waves with a regular, gentle rocking motion. Behind them in a sheltered nook, Esperanza sat dressing and undressing the rag doll Annie had made for her, crooning to it in a mixture of English, Russian, Spanish and some African language.

Every now and then, Rebecca glanced back to make sure her charge was safely occupied. She happened to be looking when a sudden gust of wind seized the doll’s best dress and whirled it away.

Esperanza cried out in dismay, jumped up and ran after the scrap of bright blue cloth, the naked doll clutched to her chest. Rebecca called to her, but her voice was lost in a sudden spate of orders from the duty officer and the rush of sailors to the rigging.

A stronger gust struck and the ship heeled. Rebecca reached for the rail behind her, keeping her balance with difficulty.

Esperanza was sent sprawling. John leaped towards her but the ship heeled further and she slipped towards the rail, wailing in fright. The doll flew over the side and vanished in the wind-tossed spray.

Diving across the deck, John slithered the last few feet and caught the child by the ankle. Her little hands were already clutching air above the water. Rebecca watched in breathless horror as they continued to slide, then John fetched up against the rail, too big to pass between the bars.

Sails lowered, the ship began to right itself. John rolled onto his back with Esperanza clutched to his chest as she had held the doll a moment since.

Rebecca pulled herself towards them along the rail against the now vigorous rolling of the
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A pair of sailors came running, their bare feet confident despite the motion. One took Rebecca’s arm and steadied her.

“Cap’n says ye’d best go below, miss. There do be a squall ablowin’ up. Seth’ll bring t’babby. That were a neatish piece o’ work, m’lord!”

The other was picking up the sobbing Esperanza as John struggled to his feet.

“Dolly!” she wept. “Dolly’s drownded.”

John took her from the sailor. His face was scraped, he was breathing hard, and he limped a little as they made their way below, but he was grinning.

“You see,” he said simply, “we sportsmen are not altogether useless.”

While Teresa fussed over Esperanza and Annie promised to make a new doll, Rebecca told them what had happened as she cleansed John’s wound. His gaze was on Teresa’s face, and he flushed when she came to throw her arms around him, kiss his good cheek and thank him fervently for saving her daughter. He watched her as she went into her cabin to fetch a salve from her medicine chest, even as he shook hands with Andrew and accepted his expressions of gratitude.

Rebecca was sad for him, and almost angry with him. The long days of enforced intimacy at sea had shown her beyond a shadow of doubt that Teresa adored her husband. Their frequent disputes quickly blew over, leaving their love strengthened. Though she was fond of her cousin she often mocked him, openly comparing his profligate life with Andrew’s successful career. Rebecca longed to shake John and tell him to forget her.

“Here is the ointment.” Teresa came back with a small glass vial. “Will you put it on, Rebecca? You only need the tiniest bit. Perhaps you should join the Navy, John, since you are becoming expert at saving people from drowning.”

“I only rescue females, and only the pretty ones.” He reached for Rebecca’s hand and kissed it. “Thank you, gentle nurse. And thank you, Rowson.”

He took the offered glass of wine from Andrew’s servant, whose services he was sharing for the voyage since his own valet had refused to travel. Rebecca was glad of the distraction. She turned away, hoping that no one had noticed her blush. It was most disconcerting to be suddenly reminded of the indecent condition John had seen her in after pulling her out of the river.

Her confusion had not escaped Teresa’s observant eye. Rebecca was in her cabin that evening, preparing for dinner while Annie gave Esperanza her supper in the saloon, when Teresa knocked and came in.

“I could not help seeing that John’s words distressed you,” she said, sitting down on the bunk with the graceful movement natural to her. “Gentlemen can be thoughtless, but forgive me, I could not see any harm in it. It was something of a compliment, rather, if a mild one. But I will not allow him to discompose you.”

“Oh no, you must not blame him.” Rebecca concentrated on brushing her hair fiercely, then began to braid it. “I...I was simply embarrassed by a memory.”

“Do you care to talk about it? Shared, it may lose its sting.”

 Though Teresa’s forceful personality was at times somewhat overwhelming, Rebecca had come to admire her forthright honesty. She knew the concern in her voice was genuine. Half against her will, she found herself describing how John had stripped her clothes off her that cold day by the river.

“Oh dear, I quite see why you are thrown into confusion at the memory,” Teresa frowned. “Has John been teasing you about it, or making advances? That would not be like him, for he is a gentleman if he is nothing else. Besides, you and he seem to be on easy terms.”

“No, he has never mentioned it. And he is not likely to make advances to me, for he is heels over head in love with you. He has been wearing the willow for you these many years.”

Teresa laughed. “John wearing the willow for me? If it seems so it is because he has used me as an excuse for escaping matchmaking mamas. He is born to be a crusty old bachelor like our Uncle Cecil.”

“Do you think so? He admires you greatly.”

“Admiration is not love, and seldom leads to thoughts of marriage. No, take it from me, my dear, the duke will find him some sinecure where he can leave the work to his underlings and he will go merrily and uselessly on his way, just like Uncle Cecil.”

Rebecca turned to face Teresa. “I wish you will not tease him,” she said bravely. “He is very much aware that his life has been frivolously wasted, that his accomplishments are not such as serious people think important. Have you not noticed how often his joking is against himself?”

Teresa looked at her with dawning respect. “You may be right. Certainly I cannot accuse him of not applying himself to the study of Russian, though his efforts meet with little success.”

“He is not unsuccessful. His comprehension is excellent. Not everyone can be lucky enough to have a gift for speaking foreign languages. I believe he is determined to do well in whatever position awaits him in St Petersburg.”

“And you believe he will rise to the challenge.”

“Has he ever been challenged before? Sir Andrew is a younger son with his way to make in the world. Lord Danville is heir to a dukedom, expected to take his place as landowner and member of the House of Lords. What did anyone ever expect of John?”

Though she smiled at this impassioned speech, Teresa was thoughtful. “He was given an ample income and left to win his spurs on the town. No one can deny his preeminence in that regard. He is a splendid shot, a superb rider, top sawyer, lucky gamester, popular with the gentlemen, and pursued by females of high and low degree.”

“You see, he has excelled where he has made an effort. Is there any reason to suppose he will do less well at anything else that takes his interest?”