Beauvallet (6 page)

Since pride forbade her to give him her company she found a certain solace in talking of him to his lieutenant. Master Dangerfield was willing enough, but he was shocked to hear what an ill opinion she had of the hero. He could allow that Sir Nicholas had maybe too boisterous and reckless a way to suit a lady's taste, but when Dominica poured more scorn upon Beauvallet the boy was moved to protest. It was likely that she wanted this.

‘I marvel that you breed such ruffling bullies in England, señor,’ she said, nose in air.

‘A bully?’ Dangerfield echoed. ‘Sir Nicholas? Why, I believe you must not say so aboard this ship, señora.’

‘Oh, I am not afraid!’ Dominica declared.

‘You have little need to be, señora. But you speak to Sir Nicholas’ lieutenant. Maybe we who serve under him know him better.’

At that she opened her eyes very wide. ‘What, are you all besotted then? Do you like the man so well?’

He smiled down at her. ‘Most men like him, señora. He is very much – a man, you see.’

‘Very much a braggart,’ she corrected, curling her lip.

‘No, señora, indeed. I allow he has the manner. But I have never known him promise what he has not performed. If you knew him better –’

‘Oh, spare me, señor! Wish me no better knowledge of your bully.’

‘Maybe he is too swift for you. He goes too straight towards his goal for a lady's taste, and uses no subtleties.’

She pounced on that, and put the question that had long hovered on her tongue. ‘I take it your English ladies think as I think, señor?’

‘Nay, I believe they like him very well,’ Dangerfield replied, smiling a little. ‘Too well for his desires.’

Dominica saw the smile. ‘I make no doubt he is a great trifler.’

Dangerfield shook his head. ‘Nay, he is merry in his dealings, but I believe he will stay for no woman.’

Dominica spent a moment pondering that. Dangerfield plodded on painstakingly. ‘I would not have you think though that he holds women in poor esteem, señora. Indeed, I think he is gentle with your sex.’

‘Gentle!’ the lady ejaculated. ‘I marvel you can say so! A rough fellow I have found him! A boisterous, rough fellow!’

‘You have naught to fear from him, señora,’ Dangerfield said seriously. ‘On my honour, he would not offer hurt to one weaker than himself.’

Dominica was affronted. ‘I fear him? Señor, know that I do not fear him or anyone!’ she announced fiercely.

‘Brave lass!’ applauded a voice behind her. Dominica jumped, and turned to see Beauvallet lounging against the bulwarks. He held out his hand invitingly. ‘Then since you have no fear of him, come and talk with the boisterous, rough fellow.’

Master Dangerfield beat a discreet retreat, and basely left the lady alone. She tapped a slender foot on the deck. ‘I do not wish to talk with you, señor.’

‘I am not a señor, child.’

‘True, Sir Nicholas.’

‘Come!’ he insisted, and his eyes were bright and searching.

‘Not at your bidding, Sir Nicholas,’ said Dominica haughtily.

‘At my most humble prayer!’ But his look belied the words.

‘I thank you, I am very well where I am,’ Dominica said, and turned her shoulder.

‘The mountain would not. Well, there was a sequel.’ He was at her side in two steps, and instinctively she drew back in some kind of enjoyable alarm. He frowned quickly at that, and set his hands on her shoulders. ‘Why do you shrink? Do you think I would offer you hurt indeed?’

‘No – that is, I do not know at all, señor, and nor do I care!’

‘Brave words, but still you shrank. What, do you know so little of me even now? You shall be better acquainted with me, I promise you.’

‘You are hurting me! Let me go!’

He held her slightly away from him, and seemed to puzzle over her. ‘How do I hurt you? By holding you thus?’

‘Your fingers grip me well-nigh to the bone,’ said Dominica crossly.

He smiled. ‘I am not gripping you at all, sweetheart, and well you know it.’

‘Let me go!’

‘But if I do you will run away,’ he pointed out.

‘I wonder that you desire to talk to one who – who hates you!’

‘Not I, child. But you do not hate me.’

‘I do! I do!’

‘God's Death, then, why do you play poor Diccon on your line to tease me?’

That was too much for the lady. She hit him, full across his smiling mouth.

It was no sooner done that she knew a frightened leap of the heart, an instant regret, for he swooped quickly, caught her hands fast in his, and locked them behind her back. She looked up, in part afraid, in part defiant, and saw him laughing still.

‘Now what do you think you deserve of me?’ Beauvallet asked.

She had recourse to her strongest weapon, and burst into tears. She was set free on the instant.

‘Sweetheart, sweetheart!’ Beauvallet said remorsefully. ‘Here's no matter for tears! What, am I so grim an ogre? I did but tease you, child. Look up! Nay, but smile! See, I will kiss the very hem of your gown! Only do not weep!’ He was on his knee before her; she looked down through her tears at his bent head, more shaken still, and heard footsteps coming up the companion leading from the waist of the ship. She touched Beauvallet's crisp hair fleetingly. ‘Oh, do not! One comes – get up, get up!’

He sprang up as his Master appeared at the head of the companion, and stepped quickly forward to shield Dominica from this worthy's notice.

It was easily possible now for her to escape below decks. Sir Nicholas’ attention was held by his Master; the way lay open to her. Dona Dominica walked to the bulwarks, and carefully dried her eyes, and stood looking out to sea.

In a minute or two the Master's retreating steps sounded, and a lighter footfall, nearer at hand. Beauvallet's fingers covered hers as they lay on the rail. ‘Forgive the rough, boisterous fellow!’ he begged.

The tone won her; a dimple peeped, and was gone. ‘You use me monstrously,’ complained Dominica.

‘But you do not hate me?’

She left that unanswered. ‘I cannot find it in me to envy the lady you take to wife,’ she said.

‘Nay, how should you?’

She looked sharply up at that, blushed, and turned her face away. ‘I do not know how the English ladies can bear with you, señor.’

He looked merrily down at her. ‘Why, I have not called upon them to bear with me, señora.’

She faced him suddenly. ‘You will scarce have me believe you have not trifled often and often!’ she said hotly. ‘No doubt ye deem women of small account!’

‘I do not deem you of small account, child.’

She smiled disdainfully. ‘You are mightily apt. Do you use this manner with the English ladies, pray?’

‘Nay, sweetheart, this is the manner I use,’ Sir Nicholas answered, and promptly kissed her.

Dominica choked, pushed him violently away, and fled down the companion to her cabin. She found her woman there, and was at once conscious of a heightened colour, and ruffled hair. Maria, noting these portents and the storm in her mistress’ eyes, set her arms akimbo and looked fiercely. ‘That bully!’ she said darkly. ‘He has insulted you, señorita? He dared to lay his hands on you?’

Dominica was biting her handkerchief; her eyes looked this way and that, and at the end she laughed uneasily. ‘He kissed me,’ she said.

‘I will tear the eyes from his head!’ vowed Maria, and made for the door.

‘Silly wench! Fond fool! Stay still!’ Dominica commanded.

‘You shall not again stir forth without me to be your duenna, señorita,’ promised Maria.

Dominica stamped her foot. ‘Oh, blind! I wanted him to kiss me!’

Maria's jaw dropped. ‘Señorita!’

Dominica gave a tiny laugh. ‘He swears he will come into Spain to seek me. If he but dared!’

‘Not even an Englishman would be fool enough, señorita.’

‘Alack, no!’ Dominica sighed. ‘But if he did – oh, I become infected with his madness!’ She lifted the tiny mirror that hung at her girdle, and frowned at her own reflection. A pat here and a twist there, and she had her curls demure again under the net. She let fall the mirror, blushed to see Maria still wondering at her, and was off to visit her father.

She found Joshua Dimmock in the cabin, vociferous in defence of his gallow's chips, which he believed, privately, might serve at least to stave off Don Manuel's death until he was set safe ashore.

Don Manuel looked wearily at his daughter. ‘Is there none to rid me of this fool?’ he said.

Joshua tried the effect of coaxing. ‘See, señor, I have them safe tied in a sachet. I bought them of a very holy man, versed in these matters. If you would but wear them about your neck I might vouch for a certain cure.’

‘Bartolomeo, set wide that door,’ commanded Don Manuel. ‘Now, fellow, depart from me!’

‘Most gracious señor –’

Bartolomeo fell back from the open doorway, bowing. A voice that to Dominica's fancy seemed to hold all the sunshine and the salt wind of fine days at sea smote her ears. ‘What's this?’

Sir Nicholas stood on the threshold.

Don Manuel raised himself on his elbow. ‘Señor, in good time! Rid me of your knave there, and his damnable chips from a gallows!’

Beauvallet came quickly in, saw Joshua standing aggrieved by the side of the bunk, and caught him by the nape of the neck, and with no more ado hurled him forth. He kicked the door to behind him, and stood looking down at Don Manuel. ‘Is there aught else I may do for you, señor? You have but to name it.’

Don Manuel lay back against the pillows and smiled wrily. ‘You are short in your dealings, señor.’

‘But to the point, you’ll allow. I am come to see how you do this morning. The fever still hath you in its hold?’

‘A little.’ Don Manuel frowned a warning. Beauvallet turned his head to observe the reason of this. Dominica was standing stiffly by the table.

It seemed this abominable man must be everywhere at once. One's own cabin was the only safe retreat. She moved stately to the door. Bartolomeo went to open it, but was put aside by a careless hand. Sir Nicholas held the door wide, and my lady went out with a quickened step.

‘You, too, Bartolomeo,’ Don Manuel said, and lay watching Beauvallet. He fetched a stifled sigh. This handsome man with his springing step and alert carriage seemed to the sick gentle man the very embodiment of life and health.

Beauvallet came to the bunk, and pulled a joint-stool forward, and sat down upon it. ‘You want to speak with me, señor?’

‘I want to speak with you.’ Don Manuel plucked at the sheet that covered him. ‘Señor, since first you brought us aboard this ship you have not again spoken of our disposal.’

Beauvallet raised his brows quickly. ‘I thought I had made my self plain, señor. I shall set you ashore on the northern coast of Spain.’

Don Manuel tried to read the face before him; the blue eyes looked straightly; under the neat mustachio the mouth was firm and humorous. If Beauvallet had secrets he hid them well under a frank exterior. ‘Am I to believe you serious, señor?’

‘Never more so, upon my honour. Wherefore all this pother over a very simple matter?’

‘Is it, then, so simple to put into a Spanish port, señor?’

‘To say truth, señor, your countrymen have not yet learned the trick of capturing Nick Beauvallet. God send them a better education, cry you!’

Don Manuel spoke gravely. ‘Señor, you are an enemy – a dangerous enemy – to my country, yet, believe me, I should be sorry to see you taken.’

‘A thousand thanks, señor. You will certainly not see it. I was born in a fortunate hour.’

‘I have had enough of portents and omens, señor, from your servant. I make bold to say that if you set us ashore in Spain you place your life in jeopardy. And for what? It is madness! I can find no other name for it.’

The firm lips parted; there was a gleam of white teeth. ‘Call it Beauvallet's way, señor.’

Don Manuel said nothing, but lay still, watching his captor and host. After a minute he spoke again. ‘You are a strange man, señor. For many years I have heard wild tales of you, and believed, perhaps, a quarter of them. You constrain me to lend ear to the wildest of them.’ He paused, but Beauvallet only smiled again. ‘If, indeed, you speak in good faith I stand infinitely beholden to you. Yet you might act in the best of faith and fail of such a foolhardy endeavour.’

Sir Nicholas swung his pomander on the end of its chain. ‘God rest you, señor: I shall not fail.’

‘I pray in this instance you may not. It does not need for me to tell you that my days are numbered. I would end them in Spain, señor.’

Beauvallet held up his hand. ‘My oath on it, señor. You shall end them there,’ he said gently.

Don Manuel stirred restlessly. ‘I must set my house in order. I leave my daughter alone in the world. There is my sister. But the child had traffickings with Lutherans, and I misdoubt me –’ He broke off, sighing.

Beauvallet came to his feet. ‘Señor, give me ear a minute!’

Don Manuel looked up at him, and saw him serious for once. ‘I attend, señor.’

‘When I approach my chosen goal, señor, I march straight. That you may have heard of me. Let it go. I make you privy now to a new goal I have sworn to reach, a fair prize. The day will come, Don Manuel, when I shall take your daughter to wife.’

Don Manuel's eyes fluttered a moment. ‘Do you tell me, señor, that you love my daughter?’ he asked sternly.

‘Madly, señor, I make no doubt you would say.’

Don Manuel looked more sternly still. ‘And she? No, it is not possible!’

‘Why, as to that, señor. I do not know. I am not over-apt with maids. She will love me one day.’

‘Señor, be plain with me. What is this riddle you propound?’

‘None, señor. Here is only the plain truth. I might bear Dominica away to England, and thus constrain her –’

‘You would not!’ Don Manuel cried out sharply.

‘Nay, I constrain no maid against her will, be assured. But you will allow it to be clearly within my power.’ He paused, and his eyes questioned.

Don Manuel watched the swing of the golden pomander from long fingers, looked higher, and met the imperative gaze. ‘We are in your hands I know full well,’ he said evenly.

Beauvallet nodded. ‘But that easy course is not the one I will take, señor. Nor am I one to enact the part of ravisher, of betrayer. I will take you to Spain, and there leave you. But, señor – and mark me well! for what I swear I will do that I shall certainly do, though the sun die and the moon fall, and the earth be wholly overset! – I shall come later into Spain, and seek out your daughter, and ride away with her on my saddlebow!’ His voice seemed to fill the room, vibrating with some leaping passion. A moment he looked down at Don Manuel with a glint in his eyes, and his beard jutting outwards
with his lifted chin. Then the fire left him as suddenly as it had sprung up, and he laughed softly, and the glitter went out of his eyes. ‘Judge you by this, señor, if I do truly love her as you would have her loved!’