Patricia Wynn (5 page)

 And Susan, after collecting her composure, had set off to look for the cheapest gold band in Calais.

Realizing now that Tom was staring at her in an effort to make out her expression behind her black veils, Susan attempted to shrug off her worries and spoke in a whisper. “It will be all right. It is just that, for all her ignorance, Peg does notice things.” She pointed to the ring on her finger. “I had to buy that to convince her I was truly a widow, and yet she will persist in calling me ‘miss.’ I have to keep reminding her I am
madame.”

Tom’s features relaxed in a smile. “If that is all, I shouldn’t worry. Rings, to a girl like Peg, are much more significant than major intrigue.”

Susan laughed quietly. “She certainly has not noticed anything peculiar about my accent. I’ve done my best to keep it up, but I sincerely believe she would not know the difference if I left it off entirely.”

“Probably not,” agreed Tom. “I suppose a person from Yorkshire is as much a foreigner to Peg as a Frenchwoman. Both are to be regarded with the same degree of dislike and suspicion.”

Susan did not answer beyond giving a great sigh.

Tom’s lips twitched in response. “I had better see about the boarding now. Peg is returning with your boxes. It looks a fine day for a sail,” he finished cheerfully before leaving her.

It was an extraordinarily fine day. Once aboard, Susan made her way to the starboard deck to look down at the calm, pale waters as they parted beneath the ship’s bow. Peg had been sent below to watch the baggage when it became apparent that she meant to spend the journey at Tom’s elbow.

It was a cool winter day and slightly overcast, but fortunately the wind was steady. Susan thought back to the only other voyage she had made across the channel, the time she had brought her father to France aboard the smuggler’s vessel. The wind had been high that day and the waves fearsome, and she had been fully occupied in keeping her father cushioned in some degree of comfort below deck. She had had no chance to see what a pleasure a channel crossing could be.

In spite of the coolness of the air, she suddenly had a strong desire to feel the wind upon her cheeks, and knowing the likelihood of its being her last sea voyage, she raised her veil and faced into the breeze. Tom, who had been keeping a cautious eye upon her, came nearer with the intention of watching for anyone who might try to approach her, but his gaze soon became fixed upon the image before him. Her lovely features glowed with warmth in the cool air. And as she lowered her lids to shelter her eyes against the wind, her silken lashes seemed to ripple softly against the paleness of her skin.

But Tom was interrupted from this pleasant pastime when another gentleman, who had been similarly employed, approached Susan from somewhere beyond his vision. He appeared, from the cut of his coat, to be an Englishman, and a quick glance reassured Tom that he was not known to him. But before he could intervene to save Susan the inconvenience of speaking to the gentleman, the fellow had reached her side and doffed his hat. Susan noticed him with a start and threw Tom a glance of dismay before lowering her veil again.

“Pardon me, madam, for disturbing you,” said the gentleman with just the right degree of diffidence. “I could not help but notice how much you were enjoying the view over the side, and though I sympathize with your pleasure, I felt I ought to caution you against positioning yourself so near to the edge. The winds may change suddenly and you might find yourself at a disadvantage.” There was nothing improper in his advance, but Tom, whose hair rose inexplicably on the back of his neck, knew with a certainty that the man was only using it as a gambit to make Susan’s acquaintance.

She replied with a gracious inclination of the head and moved slightly farther from the side.
“Merci, monsieur,”
she said.

Tom waited anxiously to see if the gentleman, perceiving she was a foreigner, would now have the grace to move off. But the man was in no way discouraged. In fact, his eyes seemed to light up in response.

“Ah, I see that you are French, madam. I have just been enjoying the sights of your lovely capital, which have been so long denied us. I hope our English presence has not been an unwelcome one to you,” he added playfully. “But if you are now travelling to my country, perhaps there will be an opportunity for us to repay you for the charming hospitality we’ve enjoyed among your countrymen.” Susan inclined her head again, but did not speak. And immediately the gentleman launched into a speech in fluent French which sent Tom into action.

He approached the gentleman and touched his sleeve. “If I might have a word with you, sir...” he began humbly. The Englishman turned with a frown and then, seeing no one but a servant, turned back to Susan to pursue the conversation.

“Beggin’ your pardon for me takin’ the liberty to address you, sir,” said Tom more insistently this time.

“What is it, fellow?” the gentleman said irritably over his shoulder.

“If I might have a word with you, sir,” said Tom again, drawing him back away from Susan, who took the chance to move in the opposite direction. “You see,” he explained. “That’s my mistress there you were speakin’ to, and I sort of have the duty of lookin’ after her.”

The gentleman’s expression changed to amusement, but he was also surprised. “I intend no harm by your mistress, man,” he said in a tolerant tone. “Now be a good fellow and run off. I shall do her no harm.” He started to turn back, but Tom, thinking quickly, put out an arm to detain him.

The Englishman whipped round angrily as Tom said, “I wouldn’t do that if I was you, sir.” And before the gentleman could retort he added, “The master wouldn’t like it a bit, sir.”

“The master?” asked the other, coming up short.

“Yessir.”

“But isn’t she a widow? I thought I heard someone say she was a widow.”

“Oh, no, sir,” said Tom now, quite enjoying the other’s discomfort. “It’s her mother what’s just died. That’s why she’s in mourning. And now she’s buried, Mrs. Faringdon’s goin’ back home to the master.”

“I see,” said the gentleman, recovering slightly. “Well, as I said, I intend no harm by your mistress, and surely your master cannot object to a little conversation.”

“Oh, but that’s just it, sir. That’s why I felt I ought to speak to you, sir,” said Tom in a confidential whisper. “You see, the master’s very jealous. He don’t like it if anyone speaks to the missus
—’cause she’s so pretty, sir, as any man can see.” He jerked his head back towards Susan with lifted eyebrows. The Englishman followed the direction of his glance and then returned his attention to Tom. His expression was not so confident as before.

“But surely she speaks to casual acquaintances from time to time,” he protested.

Tom shook his head vehemently. “Not if she’s careful, she don’t. If the master gets word of it
— Well, I’d hate to think of it happenin’ again.”

“Again?”

Tom shuddered violently. The Englishman looked alarmed. “Runs ‘em through, sir, he does,” said Tom in a terrible whisper. “Time and again. And no matter what the missus says, she can’t convince him there was nothin’ in it. Just a word or a glance the wrong way sets him off. It’s turrible, it is.”

By now, the Englishman was staring in horror. “But that’s insane! The fellow must be mad!”

Tom merely shrugged his shoulders. “They say he was too long in the colonies. America,” he added as if that explained everything. “But anyway, now you see, sir, why I had to speak to you. If the missus has to travel without the master he always sends me along to keep an eye on her, and I have to report back to him about everyone she speaks to
—or it’s my hide.”

The gentleman started. “But in this case, surely...” Then, seemingly mindful of his complete loss of dignity, he drew himself up and regarded Tom haughtily. “This is absurd,” he said. “I have not done anything to disturb your mistress and my speaking to her was purely with the intention of preventing her from falling overboard. If there is any need to mention it to your master
—and I fail to see any need at all—you must simply tell him that I spoke a word of caution to her, as any gentleman in all charity would have done, and passed on.” He concluded this speech with an air of having given a command. Then after throwing Susan one more furtive glance, he inclined his head stiffly to her groom and moved away. And to Tom’s great en
joyment, the poor man strode rapidly to the far side of the ship and kept his eyes carefully averted for the remainder of the voyage.

Turning his face to hide a gleeful chuckle, Tom suddenly sensed Susan’s presence and looked round to find her at his side. “Lord Harleston,” she whispered. “What have you done to that poor gentleman? He turned quite pale when he was speaking to you.”

“Tom,” he reminded her with a respectful bow. “I simply told him that you had a jealous husband who would run him through if he so much as glanced at you.”

“You didn’t! You’re joking, surely! Why, I thought I was supposed to be a widow?”

Tom shrugged cheerfully. “It was the best thing I could think of on such short notice. And it worked. I don’t think he’ll speak to you again.”

“Wretch!” Susan said with a reluctant smile. He was looking decidedly smug, as though he had physically vanquished a rival. It crossed her mind to wonder whether there was not a bit of male possessiveness in that smirk of his and the thought was somehow gratifying. “So now I have to balance two falsehoods among one group of people! Don’t forget that Peg thinks I’m a widow. And what if this gentleman should happen to mention my married state to someone else on the journey? It could happen.”

“I don’t think so,” Tom said. “I don’t suppose he’ll want to say a word about you. But,” he added, and his eyes held a certain gleam, “I’m afraid I must ask you not to lift your veil aboard the vessel again or I might have to invent countless bouncers to scare away your admirers.”

“Nonsense,” she said, in a trembling voice. His words had implied more a compliment than a caution. From beneath her veil, Susan could see the amused twinkle in his eyes. “You had better move along now,” she reminded him. “It would not do for me to appear to be speaking to my groom too long.” Tom answered with an impudent bow and another pull on his forelock.

“No, mum. Your servant, mum,” he said. “But I shall be nearby if needed again, mum,” he added in an undertone, and Susan could hardly keep from laughing as he backed away from her with servile courtesy.

There were no more incidents aboard the ship to threaten her serenity and within record time, the ship had pulled into harbour at Dover. Here, indeed, she reflected, would come the true test of Lord Harleston’s plan as she was obliged to undergo the scrutiny of His Majesty’s customs officials.

With Tom behind her carrying her bags and boxes, and Peg swaying close by his side, they made their way slowly through the line as, one by one, the foreign passengers were questioned and harassed and their baggage examined. Earlier, Tom had expressed the opinion that her widowed status would awaken the officers’ pity and afford her some protection from their well-known tyranny, but as soon as they reached the gates, they could tell this would not be the case.

Whether the official they faced had some personal grievance against Napoleon, or whether he merely felt he had not done his part to defend the Crown in the recent hostilities, they would never know, but upon reading Susan’s passport he assumed an immediate gleam of vengeance.

“Mrs. Faringdon, now, is it?” he asked as though her very name were suspicious.

“Yes,
monsieur,”
said Susan meekly.

“And a widow, are you?” he asked quickly, trying to catch her off guard.

His apparent suspicion about even the slightest matter did disconcert her and Susan hesitated as she looked quickly about her to make certain that her English admirer was nowhere near to cast doubt on her present story.

“That’s right, sir,” spoke up Tom to hide her hesitation.

The customs official bristled immediately. He drew himself up to his full height and thrust out his chest, saying, “Nobody’s asking
you,
my lad, so just you keep your nose to your business.”

Tom answered humbly, “Beggin’ your pardon, sir, for the impertinence, but it’s just that her English is that bad, sir, that sometimes I has to speak for her.” He bowed as he made his apology.

“Humph!” put in Peg saucily. “Not much need she has for you to help
her.”
But at the same time, she put her hand to her hip and gave Tom a coy look that said just who
would
be the better for a bit of his help.

“Here, here, now,” said the official. “You stop your flirtin’, my girl. This is no place for your impudence. Now let me see those bags.”

Susan grew suddenly more nervous. Although some of the captain’s last belongings were in her boxes, there was nothing that would identify her precisely as Captain Johnstone’s daughter. But neither were her possessions such as to convince the official that she was who she pretended to be.

She threw a hasty look at Tom, which he could not see because of her veil, and began to unfasten her first bag with trembling fingers. But his keen eyes perceived the distress in her movements and he whispered a warning as he quickly bent to pick up another bag.

“Remember your cue!”

Susan had no time to wonder what he meant before he reached for the other bag and unceremoniously dumped its contents on the ground. She looked up, completely stunned, to find him gazing back at her with his eyes widened in fear.

Suddenly aware of his intentions, she rose ably to the occasion, spurred by her own urgent sense of the need for action.

“Imbécile!”
she cried, startling them all with the vehemence of her shriek. “
Non, non, non!”
As Tom stepped back and raised his hands to his head as if to ward off a blow, she shrieked even louder and began to flail him with her floppy reticule.
“Idiot!”
she screamed in her best French accent.

“Here, here now, madam!” cried the customs official, seriously alarmed. “Get a hold of yourself! There’s no need to carry on like that. The lad couldn’t help it!”