Ransome's Honor (25 page)

“Ah, Julia, Captain Ransome.” Lady Pembroke simpered. “I am so glad we caught up to you. My son,” she elbowed Sir Drake, “has something he wishes to say to you.”

Drake’s hooded eyes indicated otherwise. “Miss Witherington, Captain Ransome, I—” Drake cast a glare at his mother, before turning a false smile back to them—“I behaved poorly toward you both the other evening. I do hope you can forgive me.”

Julia’s fingers bit into William’s arm, but she smiled at the miscreant. “As I told your mother, I have forgotten the incident.” She turned her face up with an expectant look at William.

“I am willing to look beyond the encounter, as I understand you felt you were only looking after Julia’s interests.” William pinned Pembroke with an unwavering glare. “Of course, Julia’s interests are now mine, so no further intervention should be necessary.”

Pembroke’s eyes narrowed, but he maintained his insolent posture. “Naturally.”

“Oh, look, Julia.” Lady Pembroke’s breathy exclamation interrupted the stare-down. “Our carriage has just rounded the corner. Come, let us depart.”

“Yes, Aunt.” Julia’s hand began to slip from William’s arm, but he clasped her fingers and turned around with her to walk a few paces behind her aunt and cousin.

“I wrote your father of our engagement and sent it in Friday’s post. Although I am certain you shall receive a missive from him within the next few days, I will contact you immediately when I receive a reply to mine.” He stopped a few feet back from where Pembroke was handing his mother into the coach.

Julia gave William a tired nod. “Thank you, Captain Ransome.”

“William.”

Her dimples finally reappeared. “William.”

He raised her gloved hand and kissed it, then assisted her up into the carriage. He watched it roll away, wishing he could devise a way to get her away from the Pembrokes as soon as—

The answer struck him with the force of a cannon, creating a quaver in his innards he had not felt since he first set foot on
Alexandra
as her captain.

“William.”

He turned and waved at Collin, who descended the front steps of the church with Susan on one arm, Mrs. Ransome on the other, and Charlotte following closely behind, deep in conversation with Admiral Glover.

They returned to the Yateses’ home and sat down to breakfast. William pushed his food about his plate, his mind occupied with prayer.

“Why so reserved, William?” His mother touched his arm. Her eyes twinkled as if she shared in a secret with him.

“I...” He looked around the table. Collin, Susan, and Charlotte all stared at him in expectation. “I have received the special license to marry Julia without banns being posted. But I believe I should marry her soon, rather than waiting until just before we sail.”

Susan beamed at him. “I have not yet had time to discuss the plans for the wedding breakfast with Julia, but I believe we can have everything settled so you can get married next week.”

“I had hoped we could marry even sooner than that—I do not trust her aunt and cousin and want to provide Julia the protection of my name so she is no longer vulnerable to them.”

Susan shook her head. “One week, William. That is all I ask. Anyway, you will be busy enough these next several days—meetings at the port Admiralty, your crew returning, your ship coming out of dry dock...”

William looked to Collin for support, but Collin appeared lost in his own thoughts.

“Yes, William, wait a week. A woman’s wedding should not be a rushed affair.” His mother refilled his coffee.

“Very well. I shall visit the rector this week to set a wedding date for early next week.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

C
harlotte meandered down the dockyard, taking in the ships rocking gently at their moorings nearby and far away in Spithead Harbor, with the Isle of Wight a hazy lump beyond. Ships’ boats scuttled back and forth from those just arrived, and all around her, dockhands bustled about, unloading goods, cargo, and officers.

At the nearest pier, a barge carrying a gaggle of midshipmen scraped to a stop. Charlotte glanced over her shoulder to ensure William was still engaged with the dockmaster before moving closer to watch the young men. They tossed their trunks—sea chests—onto the dock ahead of them, laughing and shoving as they debarked. Once out of the boat, the bigger boys hoisted the chests over their shoulders, bearing the weight with ease; the younger ones heaved them up in front with both hands and waddled forward, backs arched.

She strolled toward them, trying to discern their conversation. As soon as they spotted her, though, silence fell, and each touched the brim of his tall, round hat.

“Good morning.” She smiled and inclined her head. “What ship are you from?”

“G‘mornin’, miss.” The tallest boy touched his hat again. He was probably within a year of her own age. “We’re from the
Hobarth.
Jus’ paid off, and now we get to go home.”

“‘Course we’d ’ave been home sooner if we didn’t have to stop in Plymouth on the way,” another boy muttered.

“Welcome home, then. Godspeed.” She nodded and strolled past them toward the end of the dock, ears keen for the accents, the words all around her.

“Look out!”

Something hard and heavy hit Charlotte’s midsection. She flailed her arms against it as she crashed to the stone quay. Not two feet away, an explosion sent shards of wood and glass flying.

Charlotte could not breathe. Suffocation darkened her vision. The heavy object still lay atop her making movement—and breath—nearly impossible.

“Are you hurt, miss?”

The heaviness eased marginally, and the blackness receded. The object atop her resolved into a chiseled face, blond hair, and the most mesmerizing gray eyes she had ever seen.

“Miss? Can you hear me? Are you well?” Concern creased the broad brow.

“I...I cannot breathe.”

“Do you think something is broken—a rib? Shall I send for a surgeon ?” His panic would have made her laugh if she had access to air.

“Sir,
you...are
why...I cannot...breathe!”

“I—oh!” He pushed himself up and extended his hands. “I do apologize, miss. I meant no—but are you certain—?”

Charlotte drew in two gulps of air before taking the officer’s hands and being hauled to her feet. One plain gold epaulette lay askew on his right shoulder.

“The cargo net was not adequately secured—” He waved his arm toward the wreckage of what had been a fine piece of furniture—exactly where Charlotte had been standing. A crane and ropes swung wildly overhead.

“I thank you, then, for saving my life, Lieutenant...?”

He doffed his pointed-brimmed hat. “Cochrane, miss. Ned Cochrane.”

Charlotte wobbled; the lieutenant dropped his hat and grasped her arms to keep her from pitching over into the water. “Not the Lieutenant Ned Cochrane who served as first officer of
Alexandra?”

He grew two inches and his chest swelled. “I still serve as first officer of
Alexandra—
or at least as soon as she comes out of dry dock.” He picked up his hat, dusted it, and replaced it on his head. “But you have me at a disadvantage.”

Charlotte flourished a curtsey. “I am Charlotte Ransome. It is very nice to make your acquaintance.”

Lieutenant Cochrane lost all color in his face. “R-Ransome? You are the captain’s—little sister.” He groaned and covered his face with his hands. “I’m done for.”

“Charlotte!”

She whirled around. The crowd of midshipmen from
Hobarth,
who’d turned to see the accident, parted to let William pass through—panic written clearly on his face.

“Charlotte.” He clutched her shoulders. “You are unhurt? When I saw you and then the cargo—” His throat convulsed.

She reached up and patted his hands, hoping to stay them from strangling her when his shock wore off and he remembered she’d wandered away among the sailors as she had promised not to do.

“I am well, William. But not of my own doing. Come, you must thank the man who saved me.”

In an instant, William collected himself, his expression once again neutral and inscrutable as usual. “Yes, I must—Cochrane?” The mask of composure dissolved into a broad smile. “By all that’s—” He released Charlotte and greeted Ned Cochrane, first returning Cochrane’s salute with a touch to the fore point of his own hat followed by a hearty handshake.

“Captain Ransome, sir.” Ned’s gaze shifted from William to Charlotte and back.

“I was just telling Lieutenant Cochrane how appreciative I am that he had the wherewithal and courage to save me from an ignominious end.”

William looked at her askance and then smiled again. “Yes, Mr. Cochrane. Quite well done.”

“Thank you, sir.” Relief returned the ruddiness to Cochrane’s cheeks. He bent, fetched up his large sea chest, and tossed it over his shoulder onto his back with one smooth motion.

“But tell me—what brings you in three days early, and on a ship no less?” William ushered Cochrane toward the head of the pier. Just when Charlotte thought herself forgotten, her brother stopped. “Charlotte ?” He held his hand toward her.

With a skipping step, she caught up and took his arm. He leaned down, his mouth near her ear. “We shall discuss this later.”

The breath of his whisper sent goosebumps racing down the side of Charlotte’s neck along with a shiver of fear. He could not ban her from returning to the docks with him, or all would be lost.

“I was in Plymouth,” Cochrane said. “My sister married this spring, and they have moved my mother in with them—a very nice farm right outside the city”

William returned another officer’s salute. “And how came you by passage on a ship returning from Mediterranean duty?”

“Well, sir, it seems
Hobarth’s
captain received word to put in at Plymouth instead of Spithead, but when he arrived, no one knew why. My sister’s new husband has acquaintance among the workers at the dockyard there, and he informed me of the ship’s arrival and planned departure. I knew I would enjoy the journey more on the water than overland, and after all, why pay for riding post when I could just stow my dunnage in with
Hobarth’s
first officer for a night?”

“Have you lodging? We can transport you wherever you are staying.” William motioned Charlotte to precede him up the narrow stone steps at the head of the dock. Charlotte’s heart thrilled at the idea of more time in the handsome lieutenant’s company.

She tripped on the top step, horror-struck.

“Charlotte?” William caught her around the waist. “I knew you were not well. Here, take my arm again. That’s it.”

Guilt made speech impossible. One handsome officer, and her wayward heart forgot her promise—her commitment—to Henry.

“It’s the Whitestone Inn for me, sir.”

Charlotte turned her face away from Cochrane’s direct, apprehensive gaze, angling her head so the brim of her bonnet hid her eyes.

“I see.” Amusement laced William’s voice. “Sister married well, so now all your eight pounds eight shillings once again land in your own pocket each month?”

“Yes. But Rebecca is beautiful; she was bound to catch the attention of the right sort. It was just a matter of timing.”

William threaded Charlotte through the crowd with ease, his uniform the only necessity for clearing a path. “What manner of man is he? Does he treat her well?”

She regarded her brother. He frowned, a distant focus in his vibrant blue eyes. Did he think of his upcoming marriage? Would he ask the same questions about Henry when she revealed her own engagement ?

“I am pleased to say it is a love match. His elder brother died—a fever or some such—and he inherited a very pretty estate. Farmland, but well maintained and productive. House not quite a manor and yet larger than a cottage. He dotes upon Becky. And she thinks of nothing other than his comfort.” Cochrane sighed. “‘Tis rather sickening, truth be told.”

Charlotte laughed. When her closest friend fell in love, Charlotte had felt much the same of the way the couple billed and cooed when together. Had Charlotte been that way with Henry? A pang of longing wiped out the lingering guilt over her reaction to the lieutenant. She loved Henry, even though at this moment she could not conjure his image in her mind.

“And you, Ned? Any young lady use her wiles to snare you since last we met?”

Cochrane’s face flamed scarlet. “No, sir. My three weeks away were exceedingly dull.”

Recovered from her momentary lapse, Charlotte entered the conversation. “And what will you do to occupy your time in Portsmouth until Thursday, Lieutenant Cochrane?”

“Ah, Miss Ransome, many a sailor would answer your question with plans of wild revelry and dissipation. But as first officer of
Alexandra,
serving under so esteemed a captain as your brother, I must act at all times with the utmost decorum and self-possession.” His eyes twinkled with his grin. “I have many business matters to which I must attend before leaving on such a long assignment, miss. And I hope my captain will put me to work securing supplies and vendors for fitting out the ship.”

“Of that you can be sure, Mr. Cochrane.” They gained the rampart ; William hailed Collin, and they convened at Collin’s barouche. Once Cochrane’s trunk was stowed under the driver’s box, they set off from the dockyard toward High Street.

Drake read the direction on the front of the two letters the postmaster handed him, tucked them in his coat pocket, pressed two guineas into the man’s palm, and hurried out of the post office.

Several ladies squawked in protest when he whipped his horse into a gallop in the middle of High Street; Drake ignored them. A quarter hour later, he pulled the animal to a stop that nearly vaulted him from the saddle.

The front door slammed against the wall as he entered the house. He flung his hat and gloves toward the receiving table, scattering a few cards onto the floor. “Harry!”

The butler—also valet and houseman—slid on the tile rounding the corner from the back hall, hastily tying his neckcloth. “Sir, you’re back earl—”

“Tend my horse immediately” Drake took the stairs two at a time. Upon gaining his library, he kicked the door closed behind him. The wall sconces rattled. Decrepit old place.

Removing the letters from the pocket, he shrugged out of his coat and tossed it over the back of one of the cracked leather armchairs. He opened the blinds over his desk and sat, placing the two pieces of correspondence side by side on the blotter.

Rolling up his sleeves, he lit the stump of a candle at his elbow. He took first the envelope, addressed to Admiral Sir Edward Witherington. He held it near the flame for a few seconds and then slid his penknife under the seal, careful to preserve the integrity of the mark pressed into the wax in case he should need to reseal it.

Monday, 8 August 1814

Dear Sir,

I hope this missive finds you well. In case you did not receive my last, I will once again take the opportunity to inform you that Miss Julia Witherington and I have come to an understanding and are to be married. I have reason to believe it better that we marry as soon as possible to forestall any undesirable circumstances. I beg your response to ascertain if this meets with your approval, thus the arrival by express.

I have visited
Alexandra’s
berth, and the work comes along apace to meet the designated launch date....

The remaining paragraph of the letter contained only drivel about reporting and admirals with whom Drake could not be bothered.

So, Ransome, you think to hasten the wedding? We shall see about that.
He held the edge of the page to the candle flame and then dropped it onto the tarnished salver, watching the fire curl and blacken the parchment until only a few ashes remained.

He opened the second as carefully as the first.

1 Aug 1814, London

Dearest Julia,

Admiral Hinds and I arrived safely in London yesterday, so thank you for your prayers on our behalf. Lord Melville firmly believes our business shall be wrapped up in just four weeks, but I am not so hopeful....

A guarantee of four Admiral Witherington-free weeks. The rest of the letter was filled with details of the journey to London, the admiral’s quarters, and more uninteresting information about people involved in naval circles. Drake burned it as well.

He unlocked the top desk drawer and withdrew a small lockbox. Something about this latest letter of Ransome’s struck him as odd. He retrieved a letter also addressed to the admiral in the same hand as the one he’d burned.

He scanned it for the right passage.

It is my honor to inform you that this night, your daughter and I have come to an understanding to become engaged to be married. I will seek a special license so we may marry before
Alexandra
leaves harbor. As you once expressed your approval of a match between Miss Witherington and me, I humbly seek your blessing on this engagement.