Regency Debutantes (26 page)

He did not move, his face a carved effigy, white, waxen, his mouth edged with a gild of blue. Water trickled down the elfin chin as Nathaniel rolled him to his side and back again, touching his fingers to the stalk of a neck, shaking his own dark head as he did so. He rose and spoke quietly to able seaman Grimly.

‘No! No!’ she whispered. Her frozen fingers tugged at the ivory shawl, wrapped the cloth around the boy. She pulled the chilled wet body to hers, giving her warmth, taking his cold. Against her cheek, where his breath should have been, was
stillness. ‘Turn him upside down, quickly!’ She glanced around her for a man large enough to do so. They watched her quietly with pained eyes. ‘What are you waiting for?’ she yelled.

Nathaniel stepped forward and took the body from her tender grasp. He moved to hand the boy to Jack.

‘Nathaniel!’ Her voice was urgent, high-pitched, panicked. ‘Please!’

‘It’s too late, Georgiana. His heart doesn’t beat nor does he breathe.’ His voice was solemn, quiet in tone. He made to take his wife’s arm, but she resisted.

‘Please, Nathaniel,’ she whispered. ‘Please try. I’ve read of a man pulled from beneath an ice sheet who appeared to be dead; within the hour he had recovered enough to speak. What have we to lose?’

The men were watching him, compassion in their eyes. The boy was dead. The captain’s wife grasping at straws, unable to face the fact, her softness serving only to highlight the tragedy of the situation. An ordinary seaman sniffed aloud, the bosun’s mate cleared his throat, and tears trickled from Jack Grimly’s roughened cheeks down on to the bundle within his arms. It heartened them to know that a fine lady could care so much for a dirty ship’s boy whom she barely knew. They waited to see what the captain would do.

‘Turn the boy upside down. Hold him by the ankles,’ instructed Captain Hawke. He then delivered two hearty wallops to the boy’s back. The figure dangled limp and unresponsive. Jack lowered him to the deck.

Mr Belmont raked a path through the crowd, dropped to his knees and examined the boy. Shocked eyes locked with the captain’s. ‘A heartbeat, albeit a faint one, but a heartbeat at that. And he breathes.’

A murmur sounded through the surrounding men.

‘Thank God!’ uttered Georgiana, and promptly knelt beside the surgeon, holding her hands around the thin flaccid shoulders, peering down into the deathly white face. The warmth of her breath whispered against the cold wet skin.

The eyelids flickered, a feeble splutter sounded.

‘Sam, you’re safe now. Mr Belmont will look after you and make you better.’

His clear tawny eyes opened, ‘George.’ The word was weak, gravel upon his injured throat. ‘George,’ he said a little more strongly, unable to move his numbed exhausted body. The curve of a smile played upon his pale lips and his eyes shuttered once more.

Georgiana smiled back and, removing her sodden glove, touched her palm to cup the boy’s cheek. ‘Sleep now, Sam, all will be well.’

It was not until she turned to Mr Belmont and saw the strange expression upon his face that she realised exactly what had just happened. The surgeon said nothing, just stared, eyes fast upon her, looking and looking as if he would peel back her very skin to find what was beneath. A quiver of fear darted in her chest and she raised her gaze to the men surrounding them, eyes scanning faces that for the main showed only relief and joy. But not Jack Grimly. The sailor was regarding her with a combination of disbelief and horror. Silent. Static. All of a sudden she felt chilled to the marrow, a terrible cold that seeped through, freezing, pervasive. She could not move. The breath caught in her throat. Blood pounded in her head. Dear Lord, what had she done? All of her fear and dread welled up, bursting forth in a surge of riotous emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. But the fear was not for herself, and neither was the dread. Only one person mattered.
And if she was not very much mistaken she had just thrown that man’s reputation to the wind. She stumbled to her feet, only to find a pair of strong arms engulf her. Deep dark eyes met hers momentarily before he pronounced in a voice that would tolerate no defiance, ‘The lad is babbling. Take him below, Mr Belmont, and see that he gets the best of care. For I had not thought that any man, let alone a boy, could beat the sea today.’

The crowd dispersed, the surgeon directing able seaman Grimly to carry young Sam. Jack looked directly into Georgiana’s eyes and then was gone.

The green velvet of her dress hung heavy with frozen seawater, dragging her down to meet the dark-stained planking. Her head ached, a searing pain. Her eyes closed against it. She heard Mrs Howard’s words, but they made no sense, just sounds buzzing distantly in her ears. It was so cold, so very cold. And to her added mortification she felt her knees buckle before someone somewhere lifted her up and she knew no more.

Captain Hawke touched a hand to the boy’s brow and spoke quietly. ‘Will he live?’

The surgeon wiped his hands upon the cloth and moved to spread another blanket over the small form. ‘No reason why he shouldn’t.’ Mr Belmont’s eyes met the captain’s and looked away again. ‘With his hammock strung close to the galley fire he’s as warm and dry as he’s going to get aboard this ship. He’s young and a hardy little thing.’

‘Good. I don’t want to lose the lad.’ Nathaniel made to walk away.

‘Is Lady Hawke recovered, sir? She seemed to have suffered a little in her bid to help the boy.’ All the while Belmont’s eyes did not leave Sam Wilson.

Nathaniel held himself taut, just waiting for the man to say what he knew he would. From the minute that the boy had uttered George’s name to the sudden realisation dawning in the surgeon’s eyes, he knew. Now he must do what little he could to salvage the situation. Let them say what they would—he was still the captain of the
Pallas
, and, as his wife, Georgiana still deserved their respect. And so he waited for what was to come.

‘Captain—’ Mr Belmont’s voice sounded clear and loud enough for the men working around them to hear ‘—it’s very common in cases of exposure to extreme temperatures for the patient to become dazed and confused. The boy is likely to confuse names, faces, people, but hopefully the effect will soon be remedied.’ His gaze held Nathaniel’s with a profound intensity. A silent promise, an affirmation of allegiance.

Nathaniel bowed his head in a small gesture of acknowledgement. ‘Thank you, Mr Belmont,’ was all he said, but those few words contained a wealth of gratitude and respect. They looked at one another a moment longer before the captain walked away to be about his business. He almost made it past the long guns with their open ports when a voice stopped him.

‘Captain Hawke, may I speak with you, sir?’ Lieutenant Pensenby appeared by his side.

Nathaniel gritted his teeth and waited for the second lieutenant to say the words.

Pensenby’s voice lowered in volume. ‘In confidence, sir.’

The two men climbed up and headed to the forecastle out of earshot of the crew.

‘I saw what happened over there, heard what the boy said to Lady Hawke.’ Pensenby’s long face was gaunt in its austerity.

Nathaniel watched him carefully. ‘What do you mean to do about it?’

The slight hint of colour rose in Lieutenant Pensenby’s pale thin cheeks.

Seagull cries sounded overhead, the murmur of men below, creak of timber, lap of waves. Pensenby said nothing.

Nathaniel would not ask the question again. The wind ruffled through his hair, nipping at his face, but it was neither the wind nor the falling temperatures that drew the shiver down his spine.

When Pensenby eventually spoke there was an unusual stillness about him and his shrewd sharp gaze rested not on Captain Hawke, but far out to sea. ‘I know what you think of me, sir. That I hold my position only because of who my uncle is.’

‘I choose my own crew, Pensenby, you know that. Whatever Admiral Stanley might have done for you, he didn’t secure your place aboard the
Pallas
, your own merit did that.’ His gaze shifted to where Pensenby’s lay.

‘For the first time in my career,’ replied the second lieutenant.

‘But not the last.’

‘We shall see.’ The narrow lips pressed firm. ‘It wasn’t me that I came to speak of.’

‘No,’ said Nathaniel quietly.

Pensenby didn’t turn his head, didn’t even move his eyes from their distant focus. His words were slow, stilted. ‘I knew from the first that there was something about George Robertson, something that wasn’t right, but I never took him for a woman. Indeed, I must
confess, Captain, to having thought the worst…about yourself, sir.’ He looked at him then, with direct and bold eyes. ‘It’s a blessed relief to learn that my suspicions were wrong.’

‘Indeed, it is,’ said Nathaniel wryly.

‘I wanted to tell you that you need not worry over the matter. Lady Hawke’s reputation is quite safe. Most of the men will not have noticed, and I’ll ensure that those who did never speak of it.’ One bony hand extended. ‘You have my word, Captain.’

A firm handshake, and Pensenby was gone.

Darkness had closed in upon the sky before Nathaniel returned to his cabin. Everything lay just as he’d left it that morning. Charts neatly stacked in a tidy pile, the log book, his quills…But everything had changed in the hours since. He found his way to the thin wooden door that led to the night cabin and knocked.

The room within was dark, the lantern unlit, the only light spilling in from the adjacent cabin. He could see her slender form seated upon the small wooden chair, her head held upright, her shoulders squared. She rose in a graceful motion, her figure too far recessed in the darkness to see her features. There was silence and the trace of summer roses. One strong long-fingered hand snaked forward and, enclosing her wrist, gently pulled her forward. The faint edges of the warm yellow lantern light glowed upon her face, revealing eyes that were trained steadily on his own. Standing there within the darkness, he felt the fatigue wash over him, pulling at his muscles, dragging at his mind. He leaned down to rest his cheek on the top of her head, inhaling the sweet fragrance of her hair, as his arms wound around the softness of her body.

‘Georgiana,’ he whispered into the silence, and the word dripped heavy and tired.

He seemed so weary, exhausted with disappointment. She closed her eyes tight to stop the fall of the tears that welled too readily. Little wonder that he was so saddened when she
had just unwittingly undone all of his hard work. His cheek was warm and light upon her hair, as if even now he sought to hold the full weight of the burden from her. She turned her face up to his, noting the dark play of shadows. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I thought only of the boy, nothing else.’

Still he said nothing, only holding her close, their two bodies merging as one within the amber flickering shaft.

And now that he was here, at last, she wanted to tell him that she would rather have ripped her heart from her breast than hurt him in any way, that yet again, through her own folly, some aspect of his life was at risk, that he deserved so much better—all the thoughts that had flooded through her head since that fateful moment. But those words would not come, tucked tight and deep inside. Instead, she found herself chattering on with all the indiscretion of Lady Tyler.

‘He’s only eight years old. Eight. Lived in Portsmouth all of his short life. His father was a man of the navy, died at sea six months since. Mother’s a widow. Fond of the gin. Six little sisters. Sam thought to follow in his father’s footsteps. That’s why he joined the navy, that and the fact that his mother couldn’t afford to feed him. God knows what will happen to all those little girls.’ She paused as if to ponder on the question. ‘When I saw him there, so pale and lifeless, I thought I couldn’t bear it. Such injustice. How did he come to fall overboard? What was he doing?’

Nathaniel’s deep voice rumbled low beside her ear. ‘Helping the men to clear ice from the lower rigging. It seems that his shoes slipped on the ice, and unfortunately the safety rope around his waist came loose.’

She shook her head slowly. ‘I didn’t think any further than to save him. That life would breathe again in his frail little body, and when Mr Belmont said he was alive, I rejoiced. That
small dear face. I didn’t even notice that he’d called me George. Only saw his smile and was glad.’ Her hands crept up to grip the top of his arms. ‘Why should anyone take note of Sam’s words? He was cold and shocked. Surely no one will take that one slip of the tongue seriously? He’s just a child.’ Her stormy dark eyes were pleading, her fingers biting. But even as she said it she knew what she’d seen in the surgeon’s face, and Jack Grimly’s.

‘No one took Sam’s mistake seriously, Georgiana. But by saying what he did, he exposed that inconceivable thought for the merest fraction of a second, and that, I’m afraid, was long enough to do the damage. Any association between the image you present now and that of George Robertson would be enough to alert those who’d dealt closely with my servant. The suggestion alone was our undoing.’

‘Do they all know?’ She clung to him, felt his muscles tense beneath her hands.

His long fingers slid to her shoulders to where her skin was bare and cold. ‘It’s too early to say. Mr Belmont does, but he won’t speak of it. Of the others I’d guess Mr Anderson and Mr Fraser to have realised. Cyril Pensenby most definitely so. The men are an unknown entity. Only those close enough would actually have heard Sam’s words.’ He omitted to mention that gossip would soon inform those who had not. ‘But it seems that you have something of a champion in my second lieutenant.’

‘Lieutenant Pensenby?’

‘The very one. He means to silence the men and protect your reputation.’

‘Pensenby! I can hardly believe it.’ Her eyes opened wide and round. ‘But what of his uncle? Won’t he tell Admiral Stanley?’ She couldn’t bear to think what that would mean for Nathaniel.

‘No, Georgiana, I don’t believe he will.’

Even if Nathaniel was right, gossip had a way of reaching those that it should not. ‘Jack Grimly knows. He gave me such a strange look before he took Sam away. It was as if I’d betrayed him, which of course I did. I lied to him, to them all. It’s not something of which I’m proud.’ A shiver rippled down her spine.