The Captain's Lady (15 page)

“G
eorgie!” Marianne cried out and started toward the water, but realized she had no power to save her nephew. The horror of the drama before her swept away all thoughts of her own happiness. “Lord, save him.”

Beside her, Jamie was already stripping off his gloves, shoes and jacket. He splashed into the lake where, several yards out, he dived in and swam with powerful strokes toward Georgie. Jamie would save the boy. She knew it as certainly as she knew he loved her.

She looked along the shore, where the family and guests had become a wailing throng. Nursemaids and footmen paced the edge, and John the footman stood knee-deep in the lake. Marianne ran to them. Tears ran down Lady Bampton’s cheeks, and she wrung her hands. Marianne pulled her into her arms. Oddly, the woman held fast to her. Papa stood at the water’s edge, his hand pressed against his chest and his legs drenched. Like the footman, he appeared to have stepped into the water, but must have drawn back when Jamie plunged in. She heard prayers around her and joined in with all her heart.

Near the water, Georgie’s sisters held on to each other, and both were crying. “You see, Betts,” Katherine said, “if you had gone with Georgie, you would be drowning, too.” Elizabeth wailed all the louder.

Thomas came running from the house, with William close behind. Marianne had not seen her plump oldest brother run since they were children. While he took his wife into his arms, Thomas kept going, splashing into the lake several yards before he stopped, apparently realizing, like Papa, that Jamie was capable of the rescue. He turned to the earl. “We just heard what happened.” He waved impatiently toward the footmen. “Can’t any of those blokes swim?”

Papa’s shoulders slumped, and he looked his age. “I have no idea. ’Twas never required of them…until now.”

Jamie swam toward shore using one arm, while holding Georgie’s head out of the water with the other. He stopped and gained footing fifteen yards out, then lifted the unconscious child and brought him to land. Breathing hard, he fell to his knees, gently laid the boy on his side and pressed a fist against his stomach.

The throng clustered close until Robert shoved in front of them. “Get back. Give him room to breathe.”

The footmen seemed to remember their calling and herded the guests away, while the family knelt around Georgie. Lady Bampton—Mary—prayed. William prayed. Robert prayed. Even proud Papa pleaded with his Maker for his heir. Mama appeared and knelt beside Papa, and he accepted her comforting embrace. Thomas leaned over Jamie’s shoulder, yet did not interfere with his ministrations.

Georgie’s pale face frightened Marianne. In truth, he looked dead. Yet Jamie calmly rolled him on his back and breathed several long breaths directly into his mouth. A spasm shook Georgie, and he coughed out a stream of water,
coughed some more, then started to cry. “Annie,” he called in a choking voice to his nurse.

Mary scooped her son into her arms. “No, my darling boy, not Annie, but your dearest mummy, who loves you so very much.”

Georgie rewarded the effort by coughing more water onto his mother, and then clinging to her. Mary did not appear to notice her ruined gown, another uncharacteristic behavior.

Great sighs of relief filled the air, along with giddy laughter, as the family rose to their feet, each member reaching out to touch the boy’s back, or embracing someone else.

Assured of her nephew’s recovery, Marianne went to Jamie, who was still on his knees, inhaling deep breaths after all his exertion. “You saved him.” She knelt and kissed his cheek.

As if her touch burned him, Jamie jerked away and jumped to his feet, then helped her up. “By God’s grace, my lady.” He warned her with a stern look, but she returned a warm smile. Surely his courage in saving Papa’s only grandson would change everything.

“Ask what you will, Templeton, and it is yours.” Lord Bennington sat in his kingly chair in the drawing room, surrounded by family and guests, and chuckled a bit uncomfortably. “As the rulers in the Scriptures used to say, ‘Up to the half of my kingdom.’” The lines on the old man’s face had deepened since the afternoon’s near tragedy, even after Captain Moberly sent to Portsmouth for his ship’s physician, who declared the boy recovered from his ordeal. Jamie had not disputed the physician’s word, but he had seen drowning victims seem to recover, only to die later of a brain fever. He prayed that would not happen to Georgie.

Jamie noticed the crowd leaning forward for his answer, and he surmised he truly was expected to ask for something. A flippant laugh rose from his belly and tried to escape, but he swallowed it. What would this august group do if he asked Bennington for his only daughter’s hand? What would the earl do? Jamie tried not to look at Marianne. But she stood just behind her father’s chair, and her widened eyes and hopeful smile made clear her hope. She knew how to manage her father, but on this one matter, Jamie did not trust her judgment. Like David in the Bible, he dared not ask the “king” for his daughter.

“My lord, if you would keep that fine gelding, Puck, in your stable for me, I shall enjoy riding him upon my return.”

The crowd applauded and breathed out their approval, but Marianne’s jaw dropped and the fine arches of her eyebrows bent into a frown. Jamie shrugged ever so slightly. Even the earl seemed a bit disappointed, if his “harrumph” was any indication.

“I see you are a diplomat, my boy.” He leaned one elbow on the chair arm and rested his chin on his fist. “Well, it will not suit. What do you want? Money? Land? That’s it.” He snapped his fingers. “I shall arrange with His Majesty to grant you some land near St. Johns Towne, a plantation near my own. You are a friend of my son Frederick—”

“A friend of all your sons, Father,” Thomas Moberly said, a sentiment echoed enthusiastically by the viscount and Robert Moberly.

Jamie had no desire for a plantation, for he would never own a slave. Nor did he wish to settle anyplace until he’d succeeded in bringing East Florida into the Revolution, and all of the colonies were free from English rule. But he felt particular discomfort at the naval captain’s praise. How could he call this man an enemy now?

“Yes, a friend of all my sons.” The earl stood and clapped him on the shoulder. “And if a plantation does not suit you, we shall find something that will.” He glanced around the room. “Well, now, everyone, go about your games.” He waved one hand in a dismissive gesture. As the wellborn crowd disbursed, he stared into Jamie’s eyes and squeezed his shoulder. “My boy, we must get you a wife.” His pale blue eyes twinkled. “May I recommend Miss Kendall, whose company you seem to enjoy so much? While she is above you in rank, her lack of fortune precludes a more advantageous match. No doubt, the dear, compliant girl could be convinced that life in East Florida would suit her very well, for she has no other prospects.”

Jamie opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come out. Bennington clearly thought he’d given Jamie a compliment by offering his wife’s companion, and indeed the sweet lady would make the man of her choosing an excellent wife. But the earl had said far more than he realized. Did the man not comprehend how he had insulted both Jamie and Miss Kendall? Yet such was the attitude of these English lords and their king. Jamie thanked the Lord he’d not spoken for Marianne’s hand.

After an awkward moment, he managed to find his voice. “Thank you, sir. I am deeply honored. But while Miss Kendall is a fine Christian lady, I would not burden her with the life of a sea captain’s wife.” He wished he could add that the earl would find a willing husband for the charming Miss Kendall among his own sons. “Nor would I settle such a gently reared lady in the wilderness of Florida.” He glanced at Marianne, praying she comprehended the declaration was meant for her. Instead, she lifted her chin and wrinkled her nose in that quick little gesture he found so charming, despite its rebellious nature.

Lord Bennington chuckled. “You know your own mind, do you not, Templeton?” He wagged a finger at Jamie. “I shall continue to search for an appropriate reward for you. I am proud of my pedigree and my progeny. But a man my age with four sons should have a dozen grandsons by now. Thomas’s young wife died with her child, and who would have Robert?” He coughed out a snort of disgust. “Of course, Frederick has received everything I’ll ever give him, and his offspring will have nothing from me. But these others have not done their jobs in continuing my legacy. Even William should have more sons. So you can see why all my hopes for the family heritage lie in little George.”

“Yes, my lord.” Jamie’s stomach turned at the earl’s arrogant speech. This interview had done much to help him cut the cords of friendship binding him to this old man.

General Washington had insisted that Jamie maintain all his ties in England, which might mean he would have to return here to spy. But he would pray without ceasing that he might serve the Revolution in some other way.

“I
t would
seem
dreadfully scandalous,” Miss Porter said. “But in truth, it would be completely innocent.” The young heiress, Marianne’s friend, sat primly in her chair, but her eyes were filled with mischief.

“Oh, dear.” Marianne pretended shock. “My papa will be livid. The whole purpose of having Mama’s garden party the week
after
Midsummer Eve is to avoid any association with pagan revelries, most of which take place in the middle of the night.” Seated in the upstairs parlor with the younger, unmarried guests, she hoped no one would discover this entire game was her idea and Miss Porter her unwitting partner.

“Pagan revelries, ha,” said Mr. Smythe, who everyone knew aspired to win Miss Porter’s hand. “My father will think nothing of it. He has told me about some of his own youthful pranks, and this will be nothing compared to them. I rather think the old boy wants me to do something delightfully silly so he can brag about it to his friends.”

“But is it fair to spoil the villagers’ festivities?” Marianne looked at Robert, hoping he would contradict her. “Their
summer fair takes place this Wednesday, and their feast is in the evening.”

“I do not see that it would spoil anything at all,” her brother said. “’Tis a grand idea, a treasure hunt in the forest between here and the village. We will not disturb their merrymaking.” He frowned and puckered his lips thoughtfully. “However, to maintain propriety, the ladies must go in twos or threes, with at least one gentleman as an escort.”

Marianne’s heart sank. If she was required to have a partner and an escort, how could she make her escape?

“I say, what a good idea.” Mr. Smythe nodded with enthusiasm. “We can have teams.”

Others chimed in with suggestions that came near to ruining Marianne’s plan, and she scrambled to think how to amend it. “Very well. Since my brother gives his approval, I, too, shall play. But should we not wear masks?” She eyed Miss Porter’s blue gown. Perhaps her friend would trade clothes with her. “Part of the fun can be not knowing who our fellow players are.”

Everyone shouted agreement, and someone found pen, ink and vellum and began a list of the rules. With great care, Marianne added a few more ideas, all the while plotting her very different course. The treasure would be divided in many parts, and every item must be found before the hunt was declared over. Surely that would last until dawn. Some time before midnight, dressed as Miss Porter, she would whisper to someone that she had grown tired and would return to her room. After a night of games, none of the younger set would be expected to rise until afternoon. With Jamie sailing just after sunrise, no one would miss her until too late.

Excitement filled her chest and made her breathless. Now she had only to enlist Emma’s help, and her plan would succeed.

“I say, Moberly,” Mr. Smythe said to Robert, “too bad your brother and Captain Templeton will be gone by then. They seem the sort of chaps who would enjoy such a romp.”

Marianne smothered a gasp. She had not heard that Thomas would sail so soon, but this was all the better. Now, if Papa suspected her of going off with Jamie, Thomas could not pursue them. On the other hand, how else could she disappear other than to go with Jamie? Only one idea came to mind.

“Yes, it would be good to have extra men, for one never knows when the gypsies will return to the forest.” She put on a worried frown. “Do be on the lookout, all of you.”

Had she thought of every detail? Would something else come up to prevent her flight? Frequent twinges of guilt had struck her in the past few days, as if she had devised something evil, so Marianne had left off praying about her plan. Yet she could not help but think that God was directing her every step of the way.

“Flying Bennington’s flag should keep you from unpleasant encounters with His Majesty’s ships.” Thomas Moberly, dressed in the full regalia of a British naval captain, stood with Jamie while the rest of the family began to gather in the entrance hallway. “If some officious fellow accosts you, you must use my father’s name and mine and the letters we provided. But if you follow the heading I charted for you, you should reach East Florida without difficulty.”

“Thank you, sir.” Jamie forced a calm smile. If this man knew of the hundreds of muskets and the ammunition hidden in the
Fair Winds’
secret hold, or if he knew Jamie would sail to Boston to deliver them before returning to East Florida, he would sink the ship before she reached the open seas.

“How many guns do you have?” Captain Moberly’s dark eyebrows bent into a frown.

Jamie coughed to cover his shock. “Guns?” Had this man read his mind?

Captain Moberly snickered and chided him with a friendly shake of his head. “Cannons, man.” He clapped Jamie on the shoulder. “Surely you do not sail unarmed when the seas are filled with pirates and privateers who are eager to seize your cargo.”

Jamie shrugged and huffed out a sigh, trying to hide his relief by sounding annoyed. “Ah, yes, the bane of every merchant captain. I have ten six-pounders—five port, five starboard—a twelve-pounder at the bow, and a crew that knows how to use them, sir.”

“Hmm. I suppose that will have to do. ’Tis better than none at all.” Thomas leaned closer. “You will be pleased to know that Governor Tonyn has been granted an admiralty commission and is issuing letters of marque to a dozen or more Loyalist sloops to protect the St. Johns River and the inland passage from Georgia.” A measure of controlled anticipation filled his eyes. “A former Royal Navy officer, Captain Mowbray, has been contracted to lead the waterborne defense. This will deter the rebels from invading East Florida. In fact, on your next voyage, no doubt Tonyn will commission you to carry naval stores to the area. What do you think of that?” Patriotic pride shone from the captain’s eyes. “We’ll rout those scoundrels soon enough and put an end to this rebel nonsense.”

“Very good, sir.” During Captain Moberly’s little speech, Jamie somehow managed to maintain his calm. This was the very information he needed to complete his mission. Now the Patriots would know what they were up against—that Tonyn had the orders, power and means to fully prosecute
the war in East Florida—and could plan their assault accordingly. “And I’ll deliver these letters to Governor Tonyn and tell your brother Frederick all you’ve said.” Jamie sent up a prayer of thanks and contrition. He should have known the Lord would supply everything he needed to complete his mission for General Washington. Once again he knew without doubt God was on the Patriots’ side.

While Marianne and the others clustered around Captain Moberly, Jamie played the part of a servant, bowing away to leave the family to their private adieus. Strange how he had grown used to effecting such poses, except when he and Marianne, Robert and Miss Kendall, had gone beyond sight of the manor house. But soon he could fully straighten his shoulders and once again be the captain of his own ship, an American Patriot answering only to God, conscience and the Continental Congress, with fealty not to a feudal-like lord but to a new nation of free men.

That afternoon, Jamie, Marianne, Robert Moberly and several household servants accompanied Quince and Emma to the church at the edge of the village, where Reverend Bentley led them in their marriage vows. Jamie stood beside his friend while Marianne stood beside her maid. More than once he gazed at the woman he could never have, to see tears glistening in her lovely blue eyes. Even though he rejoiced at seeing his friend happy, his own heart felt like a cannonball in his chest.

Afterward, they walked back toward the manor house, where a small wedding celebration was to take place in the kitchen among the household staff. Then Jamie would gather his belongings and travel to Southampton. Quince and Emma would follow later in the evening, after Emma had seen to the last of her duties as Marianne’s lady’s maid.

Chafing at the misery soon to visit Marianne and him,
Jamie offered his arm to her and fell back behind the others. His heart overflowed with love, as it had a few days before beneath the willow trees. Who knew the wedding of a friend could move a man so deeply?

“What a lovely bride Emma makes.” Marianne’s own loveliness was enhanced by her affection for her servant.

“Yes, and I’ve never seen Aaron…Quince grin so broadly.” His emotions rioted within him. Grief must not cause him to slip from his role as Quince’s master. “My lady…”

“Yes, my Jamie.” She looked up and gave him a smile that was strangely serene.

“Tsk. Be careful.” He winked at her, not feeling the slightest bit playful. “I won’t have another private moment with you, but if you will permit, I’d like to tell you something.”

“Of course.” Her perfect eyebrows arched with expectation.

He cleared his throat, fearing he was treading on dangerous ground, fearing his words might inspire her to some foolish action. Yet he could not restrain himself. “If the course of history should ever level the ground beneath us to permit an equality made clear in Scripture, then perhaps by God’s grace we can somehow be united.” He prayed she would not notice the rebellion implicit in this declaration.

She stared at the ground before them as if hiding her widening smile. “What will it take to level the ground? Will you perform some gallant deed for His Majesty and be made a knight?”

“You know that’s not possible.” Why had he said anything? “I merely meant…it is my way of saying…I shall never love another.”

She tugged him to a stop and faced him, no longer smil
ing or teasing, but staring up at him with misery in her eyes. “Nor shall I. And you must know this—if I cannot marry
you,
I shall not marry at all.” Her lovely, full lips formed a pout of determination.

He stared down at her for only an instant before pulling her into his arms and kissing her with all the fervor burning in his heart. Right here on the village road. Right here where they could be seen, should someone look out of a manor house window. This moment of bliss could not be wrong, at least not before God, not when they had just pledged eternal love to each other.

A harsh whistle met Jamie’s ears, snapping him out of his euphoria. He and Marianne looked up the road. While Moberly stared at them with fists at his waist, the others continued their walk toward the house. Now he beckoned sharply, his every move a warning. So this was it. Jamie might never see his love again. But he would carry her in his heart forever.
My true-love hath my heart, and I have hers.