The Captain's Wallflower (14 page)

“Captain, the doctor will be here soon. He’ll be relieved to see you awake, Sir,” Peterson said, adding more liquid to the dry lips. Peterson had served Alexander since he was a boy and could only guess what his master was feeling.

“What day?” Alexander croaked, not able to ask the full question.

“It’s Christmas morning, Sir.”

Alexander relaxed into his pillows, drained of energy once more. He had been asleep for two days, but he was alive; nothing else mattered. He closed his eyes and let the drug overcome him once more, thinking as he drifted into unconsciousness that he hoped Amelia would visit soon.

Chapter 13

Doctor Johnson had forbidden Amelia and Richard to stay more than a few minutes with Alexander when he eventually realised they were desperate to see the patient, and then he had only allowed the visit to occur during the evening of Christmas Day. The pair entered the room quietly and approached the bed.

Amelia hung back a little; she was wary about Alexander’s reaction to her; he was no longer in the grip of feeling his time on earth might be at an end. She was not so naïve to realise that experiencing his kisses could have been an impulse on his part through being in a very trying situation.

Alexander lay with his eyes closed. He knew exactly who had entered the room without looking in their direction; he recognised their familiar footfalls. He turned his head slightly; cannon fire was still going off inside his head, but he could move slightly, and he opened his eyes.

Both Amelia and Richard looked drawn; it had obviously not been an easy two days for either of them. Alexander held out his hand to Amelia and noted her hesitancy when she moved forward.

Before he could say anything Richard exclaimed. “You have sight! I knew there was something different about you before the operation, but I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I’ve just realised— you can see! You reached out knowing exactly where Miss Basingstoke was standing.”

“You mean I didn’t reach for your hand Richard? Blast it!” Alexander said, his voice croaking, but the humour shone through.

Amelia had automatically placed her hand into Alexander’s but, on Richard’s words, she had tried to withdraw it in shock. Alexander kept tight hold of her fingers. “You have sight?” Amelia asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Alexander sighed, he did not wish to go into long explanations just yet; he still felt so tired, but he owed them something. “It isn’t much sight: central vision in my left eye, but it returned after the fall. I didn’t want to mention it to anyone other than Doctor Johnson because I didn’t believe it would still be here after the operation. It seems I have been very lucky,” he explained quietly.

“But that means, when we—,before the operation—,you could see!” Amelia faltered, her face flushing a deep crimson at the curious look Richard shot her.

“I didn’t wish for everyone to get excited only to be disappointed again. Me more than anyone,” Alexander explained.

“This changes everything!” Richard exclaimed. “It’s a miracle!”

“I suppose it is,” Alexander said quietly, watching Amelia carefully. Her expression had changed at Richard’s words, becoming more closed. He had no idea what it could mean, but it did not bode well.

Richard smiled down at Alexander. “This is better than anything we could have imagined. Welcome back Alexander!”

“I made you this for Christmas,” Amelia said. “It’s a little unnecessary now.”

“What is it?” Alexander asked.

“I’d embroidered a handkerchief,” Amelia said with a flush. “It’s nothing really.”

“No one has taken the time to make me anything before,” Alexander said quietly, reaching with his free hand for the gift.

Amelia placed it into his palm and used the movement to free herself from Alexander’s hold. She moved a little away from the bed, trying to not make it obvious that she had moved out of Alexander’s reach.

Alexander held the material up to his eyes, trying to see the delicate stitching. Amelia had sewn it so that the picture protruded from the material and could be felt clearly when being traced with one’s fingers.

“It’s my ship on the sea,” Alexander said, quietly. Using both touch and sight for the first time in a long time.

“Yes,” Amelia answered.

“It’s beautiful, thank you. I will treasure it,” Alexander said, kissing the material before tucking it into his nightshirt, so it lay against his skin.

Amelia flushed at the action, and Richard smiled. “You will soon be back to your old self, my friend!”

“I don’t know about that,” Alexander said quietly, his eyes not moving from Amelia’s face. He could sense that things had changed between them, but it did not appear to be progress in the right direction. She had put distance between them, and he did not want that, but now was not the time to speak when Richard was babbling like an excited schoolboy, and Alexander’s head was pounding.

“We must leave now,” Amelia said quietly. “Doctor Johnson will never let us return if we overtire you.”

“How’s Samson?” Alexander asked.

“William has taken him for a long walk. We didn’t think we would get in here without him forcing his way in,” Amelia explained.

“I want to see him soon,” Alexander said. “Will you both return as soon as you are allowed?”

“Yes. But we really must leave you now,” Amelia insisted.

They closed the bedchamber door before Richard turned to Amelia. “I didn’t think I would have such good news to send back to Alex’s family!” he said, rubbing his hands in glee. “It won’t be long before the great Captain Worthington is back in the fold, and we can once again enjoy all that Society has to offer. Please excuse me to your family, Miss Basingstoke. I need to send an express to Lord Newton; it really is a Christmas miracle!”

Amelia had not needed to speak; Richard was so full of excitement at thoughts of what was to come her silence went unnoticed. Richard had bounded down the stairs and, within a few minutes, had left the house; Amelia leaned on the wooden panelling that lined the landing area.

He was no longer blind. She sighed; she was so very happy for him, but she realised, just as Richard had, how much things would change. Alexander was whole again, or as nearly as the
ton
required him to be. His friends would reappear, and the entertainments would begin again.

Amelia shook herself; how could she be so heartless, wishing that he had not regained his sight? She was ashamed of her feelings and cursed the fact that she was no better than those who had abandoned him in the first place. They wanted him only when he was perfect, and it was as if she wanted him only when he was not.

Pushing herself off the panelling, Amelia sighed. She was lying to herself; she wanted him whether he was blind, with sight or had only one leg. He would always be perfect in her eyes, but when he was perfect he would never consider someone as lowly as she. Walking down the stairs, she met William bringing in a panting Samson.

“This boy can run!” William said good-naturedly.

“Yes, he’s hard to tire.”

“What is it, Amelia?” William asked, immediately picking up on his sister’s forced brightness.

“Captain Worthington has regained some of his sight,” Amelia explained, trying to look as pleased as she should.

“And that isn’t something to celebrate because—?”

“It is! It really is, but Mr Critchley has gone to let Captain Worthington’s family know the good news and is probably at this moment planning their removal to London.”

“Ah, I see. And what is the Captain’s view in all of this?”

“I’m sure he will wish to return as soon as Mr Critchley arranges it.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to assume that. I know what I saw in his expressions when he looked at you; don’t be so quick to presume the worst.”

“He did like me; I know that,” Amelia admitted. “But it was only when there was no one else. Then I was the best of the bunch; I’m expecting that things will soon return to the way they were that first season, Captain Worthington not even looking towards the wallflower benches, let alone approaching them.”

“If he does that, he isn’t worth crying over, but I can’t believe that of him,” William defended his hero.

“It was who he was before Trafalgar,” Amelia argued.

“A lot has happened since then,” William insisted, leading his sister into the drawing room.

*

For days Alexander had not seen Amelia. He was aware she had asked Doctor Johnson and Peterson of his progress every time she had seen either of them, but she had not returned to the bedchamber.

Alexander was as frustrated as hell. Richard had visited and was constantly talking of what they would do once he was well enough to travel to London. It made Alexander’s head hurt sometimes and, on more than one occasion, he had feigned sleep to encourage Richard to leave him alone.

He had also received a letter from Anthony. It had started with a telling off for not letting him know the moment the accident had happened, but then had gone on to insist that he recuperate at the family home for a few months. Even Anthony had mentioned his return to the social scene of London, and Alexander knew his brother hated the place! It seemed everyone around him wanted him to return to his former life, and he was feeling overwhelmed.

This was not how things were supposed to have turned out once he had made the decision to visit Amelia. He had not come with firmly fixed ideas, but deep down he had known what he wanted to happen, only now that ideal seemed so very far away.

*

A week after the operation, Mr Basingstoke had come to visit Alexander. Finally, Alexander hoped he would be able to speak to someone sensible.

“You are certainly looking well,” Mr Basingstoke said, taking the seat next to the bed. “You have colour in your cheeks, which was sadly absent when I looked in just after the operation had taken place.”

“Yes, I’m feeling a lot better, thank you. I want to be able to leave this room, but Doctor Johnson is being a stickler,” Alexander ground out, hating feeling helpless once more.

“He is being cautious. It’s the time of year that illnesses seem more abundant.”

“I know. I’ve almost forgotten what a normal Christmas at home is like,” Alexander admitted. “I’ll always be in your debt for allowing me to disrupt yours.”

“Having eight young men descending is a disruption; you were not. In fact, it has almost seemed like a Christmas miracle occurred: you regaining some of your sight. I know your friend is calling it one.”

“To be fair, it had happened before Christmas Day,” Alexander admitted.

“It’s near enough to give us the chance to exclaim in wonder!” Mr Basingstoke said with a good-natured smile.

Alexander was reminded of Amelia’s no-nonsense, easy approach to life and knew where she got her character from. “Who should I be to interfere with the magic of Christmas?”

“Precisely! Mrs Basingstoke will eat out on the story she has concocted around your miracle whereas I tend to err on the side of being easier to please. Seeing all my children in one place is nothing short of a miracle to me.”

“You are very lucky with the size and closeness of your family,” Alexander said.

“I am indeed, but you have your own family and a very good friend as well. Mr Critchley has been quite excited about the antics the two of you will be embarking on in the New Year.”

“I doubt I will have a free night for a year, if I let Richard have his way,” Alexander said grimly. He decided now was the time to ask what he had wanted to since he had first met Amelia’s father. “Mr Basingstoke, I have yet another request of you.”

“Oh, yes?” Mr Basingstoke responded.

“Would you allow me—, do I presume too much when I ask—, I’d be delighted if—, Oh, blast it! Why I’m so tongue-tied, I’ll never know!” Alexander took a deep breath. “Mr Basingstoke, I would be eternally grateful if you would give your permission for me to pay my addresses to your daughter. Do I have your blessing to ask your daughter to marry me?” Alexander said, finally saying in a rush the words he wanted to say. He flushed, embarrassed at his fumbling and the fact that he had not been able to speak to Amelia before approaching her father.

“You want to marry Amelia?” Mr Basingstoke asked slowly.

“Yes. More than I’ve ever wanted to do anything before,” Alexander assured him.

“I see. I’m sorry, Captain Worthington; I know you have been through a lot more than any young man should have to endure. I cannot let that influence me though; I would not be a good father if I agreed to your proposal. I’m afraid I do not give you permission to pay your respects to Amelia.”

Chapter 14

Alexander felt a tightness across his chest so intense he unconsciously rubbed his hand along his nightshirt, trying to ease the internal pressure. “N-no?” he stammered.

“I’m afraid so,” Mr Basingstoke said quietly.

“Could I ask why not, Sir? I have a fortune that will keep us both in a great deal of comfort for the rest of our days,” Alexander had never begged in his life, but he was about to start if it was the only way to secure Amelia. “If you think your daughter doesn’t have a preference for me, I think she does.”

“That is exactly the reason why I am saying no to a man that any other father would probably be welcoming with open arms.”

Alexander’s mind was spinning. “You say that Miss Basingstoke
does
have a preference for me, and that is the reason for your refusal? You wish her to marry someone she doesn’t like?” The tightness increased at the thought of Amelia marrying someone else. Alexander struggled to swallow; he was suffering so much.

Mr Basingstoke smiled. “Let me explain a little. When my daughter returned from London, I was disappointed that she’d not received the many proposals I hoped she would when I’d waved her off. Oh, I know she has no dowry to speak of, but I’d hoped the men in your society would see her for what a gem she truly is. It seems that partly, thanks to their prejudice and, from what Amelia tells me, in part because of my sister-in-law, Amelia returned home not having enjoyed her time as I’d hoped.”

Alexander wanted to close his eyes and shut out the world. In addition to the tightness in his chest, the feeling that he had a lump of lead forming in his stomach was making him feel decidedly queasy.

“When Amelia returned she was quiet and withdrawn. At first I thought it was just due to her missing the high-life London had to offer, but I was soon to realise that it was more to do with heartache at someone she had met. I’m not breaching any confidences when I say that Amelia was pining over you.”

“I missed her like I have never missed anyone else,” Alexander whispered.

“I’m sure you did. She had been a good friend to you for some weeks it seemed.”

“She had,” Alexander acknowledged.

“When she first told me about what had happened between the two of you, I thought, this is it, she has found a match, but it soon became apparent that you had only spoken to her because of your circumstances and not because of attraction.”

“We had never been introduced,” Alexander said defensively.

“That is true. But let me ask you this; Lord Eckersley had a daughter come out the same year as Amelia; did you get yourself introduced to her?” Mr Basingstoke asked, his tone firm, but showing no other emotion.

“Yes,” Alexander said, squeezing his eyes shut with a grimace.

“Yes, the gossip columns were full of Captain Worthington, making sure he was one of the first to be introduced to the newest heiress in society.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s a sad way to live, in my humble opinion, but I am just a poor man. That being said, I can’t let you hurt Amelia. You will return to London and, if I agreed to the marriage, she would be thrust into your society. Would they welcome her as one of their own, or would they look down at her as you did before you went into battle?”

“My family would welcome her,” Alexander said quietly.

“I hope they would, and it is to their credit they don’t show the same prejudice that others do, but I suppose we would never know whether you wanted her because no one else wanted you. Amelia explained how you had been shunned; she was justifiably angry about it. My daughter is very precious to me, Captain Worthington, and I’m not going to take the risk with her heart. I want her to marry someone who wants her above everyone else, and with you I can’t be completely sure.”

“Is there any way I can change your mind, Sir?”

“No. I think it would be best if you left not mentioning this conversation to anyone. In time Amelia will forget you, and hopefully she will meet someone who deserves her.”

Alexander’s shoulders sagged in defeat.

*

Alexander lay on his bed with his eyes closed. Somehow having sight no longer felt so important after the conversation he had just been part of. He was arrogant; he knew that. He had never for a moment expected Mr Basingstoke to say no. Alexander almost laughed; Basingstoke had said no and in what a way!

The conversation replayed over and over again in Alexander’s mind. How could he argue against Mr Basingstoke when everything he said was true? He had only spoken to Amelia when everyone else ignored him. He could try and defend his actions, but he would never have sought her out. It was ironic that he lay longing for her company when he was alone. Questioning his own motivation about what his feelings really were, he lay for hours until Doctor Johnson and Richard were in the room together.

“I want to move to the inn you are staying at,” Alexander said, aiming his request at Richard.

“It’s only been a week. Are you sure you’re up to the journey, even such a small one?” Richard asked. He was desperate to return to London but was not going to do it at the expense of his friend.

“It’s time we stopped putting out these good people. I wish to be moved tomorrow.”

“There is still a risk of catching a fever,” Doctor Johnson cautioned. “The bandages are still hiding a wound; I would hate to get so far to have you become ill.”

“I won’t catch anything; I feel better every hour that passes. I’m moving with or without your help,” Alexander said belligerently.

Richard and Doctor Johnson exchanged a look, but there was no real reason to keep Alexander where he was; he did seem to be well on the way to recovery.

The two friends were left on their own once the doctor was satisfied with his checks. Richard sat down near Alexander, helping himself to tea that was kindly provided by their hosts. “So, are we soon to be planning our removal to London?”

“I won’t be returning to London,” Alexander answered.

“Not immediately, but soon.”

“No, Richard. Never.”

“Never? Whyever not?”

“I don’t care if I never see the damn place again!” Alexander said roughly.

“Things have changed now; you can go back to the balls. You can dance!” Richard said persuasively.

“And be faced by the shallowest in Society while the Miss Basingstoke’s of the world are ignored.”

“Alex, she is a lovely girl. I admit I didn’t think so at first, but she is a real gem, but she’s not who you have always chased. She’s not the sort of girl the likes of us marry,” Richard said condemningly.

“Richard, will you listen to yourself for a moment? Not the sort the likes of us marry? Who the hell do you think we are? We are the type of people who will only speak to someone if we think they are good enough for us; we are the type of people who will ridicule someone sitting on the wallflower benches because we don’t think they are worth our notice. Instead, Miss Basingstoke welcomed me without question and helped me in such a way that it changed my life. Perhaps instead of condemning those who perhaps aren’t so well off, we should see what they do have to offer.”

“I think you are being too hard on yourself,” Richard said.

“I’m not being nearly hard enough,” Alexander responded bitterly. “Tell me Richard, what effort would it take if, at every ball we ever attended, we asked someone who was sitting out for a dance? To look at some of the young ladies who weren’t the richest or the prettiest would it really have spoiled our evening?”

“Well, no, I suppose it wouldn’t have spoiled our evening, but it still would have been a tiresome exercise. I’d prefer to dance with a pretty face,” Richard admitted with a shrug.

“How many times have I danced with a pretty face only to find out that she is the most tedious of partners? Or the latest heiress to be nothing but a spoilt miss? You never know; spending half an hour in the company of an unknown could have been enjoyable. We’ve been very arrogant and unfair. We aren’t that special, Richard,” Alexander said bitterly.

“We are young, attractive, wealthy men, Alex; what more would anyone want?”

Alexander shook his head sadly, “I can’t believe you still think that is enough. Has this last twelve months done nothing to show you that being shallow isn’t enough? I certainly need something more.”

“Are you telling me you are going to offer marriage to Miss Basingstoke? That’s it, isn’t it? You think you are in love with her. You are feeling in her debt, that’s all. You don’t have to get leg-shackled to say thank you!” Richard smiled.

“I am in love with her,” Alexander said seriously. “I think I was from the first moment she spoke to me in that godforsaken ballroom.”

“Don’t mix gratitude with love, Alex. It could be a costly mistake.”

“Ha! A costly mistake! You have no idea!”

“What are you talking about Alex? There’s obviously something going on,” Richard said, concerned about his friend.

“This morning I asked Mr Basingstoke’s permission to marry his daughter, and he refused. I’m not good enough for his daughter and, even though I know I’ve changed, he doesn’t believe me. The problem I have is that I’d realised from my previous behaviour how shallow I was; I could only agree with him in his view that I’m not worthy of her,” Alexander finally admitted.

Richard looked aghast. “He said no?”

“Yes! And I have lain here all day and thought over his words, and I can’t disagree with his arguments. She does deserve someone who treasures her no matter what her background or who her family is,” Alexander admitted. “I’ve been a bloody arrogant fool, and it has cost me the one person I care the most about.”

*

The Basingstoke house was a hive of activity. The visitors were leaving in a warm carriage Mr Critchley had hired. The journey would be only one mile, but every care would be taken of the patient. The Basingstoke brothers who remained at home had all said their goodbyes and helped to load the carriage. Mrs Basingstoke had supplied warm bricks for the Captain and Mr Critchley and insisted that a letter be sent to assure her when they were settled into the Golden Lion.

Samson was staying close to Alexander, having been allowed into his room in the morning. When Alexander had moved about, even though he was very carefully monitored by Peterson, it was obvious Alexander still needed the help of the dog to move around comfortably.

Amelia had been absent during the hustle and bustle but, when it was clear that it was time to leave, she could stay away from her bedchamber no longer. She was confused and upset about the turn of events but was magnanimous enough to admit it was as she had thought: he had kissed her when he thought he was dying. She could not condemn him for that no matter how her heart was breaking.

She approached the open doorway and was greeted by the thumping of Samson’s tail on the floor as he sat next to Alexander, who was seated on a chaise lounge in front of the fire. He was ready for travel, all his clothes cleaned and looking as pristine as usual. His greatcoat was folded at the end on the chaise lounge, ready to be put on. The only difference in appearance was that his hair was not tied neatly into a queue, the bandage on his head made it impossible to wear his hair neat; the unruly locks were in stark contrast to the normally well-dressed captain.

“Miss Basingstoke, I’m so pleased you have come. I didn’t relish trying to find you in the house; I’m still not steady on my feet,” Alexander said trying to sound light-hearted. He noticed her pale face and drawn expression and had to sit on his hands to prevent himself from rising from the seat and taking her in his arms. He longed to hold her, but it would be unfair to them both; he had been refused permission, and he had to respect Mr Basingstoke’s opinion.

“I’m sure it must be very confusing at the moment,” Amelia acknowledged.

“I’ve missed your visits,” Alexander blurted out before he could stop himself.

“I thought it for the best,” Amelia said with a flush.

“The best for whom?” Alexander said, but then let out a long breath. “I’m sorry, Miss Basingstoke, I’m being selfish as always. Thank you for everything you have done for me. I can never repay your kindness throughout everything we have shared.”

He thinks I am kind, Amelia thought bleakly. Not quite the declaration of love she longed for when she allowed her foolish thoughts to surface. “You’re very welcome. You helped with the last few weeks in London. We supported each other.”

“You are very magnanimous,” Alexander said with a smile.

They were interrupted by the arrival of Richard. “Everything is ready for you, Alex.”

Alexander stood, putting his great coat on and immediately Samson moved into his usual place. He placed his hand reassuringly on the neck of the dog. In his first venture downstairs he needed Samson’s guidance and confidence all the more.

“Will you still need Samson?” Amelia asked.

“I would imagine I will never be able to walk without him anywhere apart from places that are extremely familiar. Although the ability to see even a little is far better than before, I am still struggling with getting around,” Alexander explained. “Samson will always be needed.”

“Hopefully not when you are able to return to the dancefloor,” Richard said with an easy smile. “It won’t be too long before you are back in the fold.”