Martha Schroeder (6 page)

What Gerald had accepted with a shrug, Lady Margaret Enfield, whose life had been spent almost entirely in this snug little corner of a provincial world, would probably react by... James found he could not predict how Lady Meg would behave. She might be unsophisticated but there had not been the slightest sign of missishness in her. The woman who birthed calves, rode neck or nothing, and coolly proposed to negotiate her own marriage settlement—perhaps, he thought with a sudden lift of heart, perhaps she would sail over this fence as well.

At that thought, he spurred his horse forward, only to receive a most unwelcome check when he arrived at the door. Lady Margaret was not at home. She had gone to the south field, where one of the workmen had been injured when the blade of a scythe had come loose and cut his arm.

James spurred Aladdin once again. When a surgeon was unavailable, he had tended the wounds of the men under him often enough to have acquired a rough knowledge of simple medicine. As he came to the field, he could see a group of workers gathered under a tree. Moving closer, he saw Meg in her dark blue habit, kneeling on the ground, attempting to wind a strip of linen around the arm of a man who lay unmoving.

James swung himself out of the saddle and hurried to stand over her. Briefly Meg looked up and said, “Good afternoon, Captain. As you can see, I am not receiving guests right now.”

“I’m not a guest, Lady Margaret.”

Meg’s head snapped up, and she glared at him. James stared blankly for a moment before he understood. She thought he was going to presume upon their understanding. He could feel his face heat with anger.

“I have some knowledge of wounds. I thought perhaps I could be of help.” His voice was the one he used to assure fellow officers that the duke’s bastard had no intention of claiming acquaintance with them if they should encounter each other in town. Icy and scornful.

Meg looked up, her clear eyes seeking his. He could read apology in their depths. “I would be grateful, Captain. I am finding it difficult to put sufficient pressure on the wound.”

Without a word, James knelt by her side. “A larger pad, I think.”

Meg understood immediately and with a few deft movements made a thick pad out of the wounded worker’s shirt, which she had already torn into strips.

“Now,” James said, “I will hold the pad in place, and you will wrap the bandage.”

They worked together in silence for a few minutes. “There,” Meg said as she tied the bandage. “I think that should slow the bleeding. We can take him to Dr. Sanderson’s in the hay wagon.”

James shook his head decisively. “It would be much quicker if I took him up on Aladdin. You can show us the way on Princess.” He swung into the saddle without waiting for a reply.

Meg’s eyes narrowed for a moment; then she nodded, “Good. Here, you men hand him up to the captain.”

It was a fifteen-minute ride to the doctor’s house and surgery. James could see that the man’s wound was still oozing blood, and his face was growing paler. When the man had been carried inside and the doctor had stitched the cut and sprinkled basillicum powder on the wound, James offered to escort Lady Margaret home.

She shook her head. “No, thank you, Captain. You’ve done more than enough. I must go and tell Tim’s wife of his injury before she hears it from one of the neighboring gossips.” She turned in the saddle and smiled. “I thank you very much for your help. I’m sure we would have succeeded, but you saved us all a great deal of time and worry.”

James bowed. “Not at all, Lady Margaret. I believe I shall have the pleasure of your company this evening?”

“Yes, indeed. Annis and I are looking forward to one of Lady Mattingly’s wonderful meals. Good afternoon, Captain.” And before James could reply, she had turned Princess toward Hedgemere.

He could only shrug. She very clearly did not want his interference, though she welcomed his assistance. Very well then. He would wait a further opportunity to put his future at risk. The odds of a positive outcome from this bustling, managing female did not seem high.

Chapter Six

Meg looked around the drawing room of Mattingly Place and smiled. For the most part, she liked her neighbors. She knew that Captain Sheridan must find them sadly narrow and provincial, as Gerald did, but Meg had no such fault to find. If they were out of the way of the latest news and
on dits
of the fashionable and political worlds of London, they were by and large kindly and well-intentioned.

She had learned early how necessary her neighbors were to one situated as precariously as she was. When she was sixteen and had assumed the full responsibility for Hedgemere, Meg had realized just how kind her neighbors could be. They might look askance at her situation but advice and help of every kind had been there for her, without a word of unwelcome sympathy for her plight or reproach for her father. She would be forever grateful. The frowns caused by her refusal to act the part of a demure young maiden did not bother her. Even the high sticklers had her best interests at heart.

“Good evening, Lady Margaret.” She recognized that deep voice. Turning to greet the captain, Meg smiled as she extended her hand. “You are none the worse for your experience this afternoon, I see,” he continued.

Meg bristled at his tone. “It was not the first time I have had to bind up a cut, I assure you, Captain. You need not fear that I would have swooned at the sight of blood had you not been there.”

Those bright blue eyes stared unsmilingly down at her. “Indeed, ma’am, such a thought never entered my mind. I have known from our first meeting that you were a most redoubtable female. Not one to faint at the sight of blood.”

Meg recalled her blood-spattered dress and disreputable hat. She gave a rueful laugh. “No, indeed. You must believe me to be delighted at the sight of it. Pray forgive me, Captain, and please accept my thanks for all your help this afternoon.”

“No thanks are required, my lady. I am only glad I was at hand.”

His voice hadn’t warmed up, and his craggy, tanned face was as unapproachable as a glacier. Meg sighed. “Let us not quarrel, Captain, please. Lady Mattingly is already frowning at us.”

He bowed slightly. “I have no wish to quarrel with you, Lady Margaret. I meant what I said. You are courageous and I was pleased to be able to assist you.”

“Thank you. Perhaps I take the huff more easily than I should. I am used to being thought a hoyden and worse because I am my own bailiff.”

“And your own surgeon and apothecary, too, Lady Meg.” Dr. Sanderson had come up to them unnoticed. “I have lost a good deal of business thanks to this lady, Captain.” The doctor’s smile belied his words.

“Dr. Sanderson has allowed me to be a sort of informal apprentice upon occasion,” Meg said to James. “There is too much sickness and too many accidents for him to deal with alone.”

“We tend to help each other when needed, and Lady Meg is right. There is too much work here for one physician.”

James stepped back a bit, out of the circle of their unspoken mutual esteem and concern. As always, he was a stranger, one who could never learn the casual warmth that existed between neighbors.

Meg turned to welcome Gerald, who had joined them. “I am terribly afraid that I am to take you in to dinner, Meg,” Gerald said with a grin just as his mother bustled up.

“Captain,” she said, “I have seated you at my right.” She looked at his set, disapproving face. “It is no use to frown at me. I am determined to let everyone know about your heroism. I have seated the vicar’s wife on your other side.” She patted his arm, and another smile dimpled her face. “I fear I forgot to tell you, my dear Captain, that you are the guest of honor.”

A lifetime of seeking the shadows on social occasions had not prepared James to be a guest of honor at Lady Mattingly’s dinner table. He was the cynosure of all eyes now, and the topic of most of the table’s conversation. He felt as if those eyes were flaying him alive.

Only the rigid discipline of His Majesty’s Navy got him to the table instead of up the stairs and out of sight at a gallop. Back straight, eyes determinedly meeting all those that sought his out, James got through the first few minutes the way he had his first naval engagement at the age of fourteen. He gritted it out.

To his surprise he found that the vicar’s wife had traveled in Italy as a girl. They passed a pleasant quarter hour reliving the beauties of Florence and Rome. James had visited both cities occasionally, when time and the war permitted. He felt almost relaxed, soothed by Mrs. Grandby’s kindness at calling forth some of his most cherished hours, strolling about those ancient cities, in solitude, seeking out the artistic masterpieces that his fellow officers cared nothing for.

“I went alone to the galleries and churches,” Mrs. Grandby said, “and my aunt and uncle could not for the life of them understand why one would want to look at a picture more than once.” She shook her head reminiscently. “I can see from your smile that you understand perfectly.”

Had he smiled? How very remarkable. “Yes, I understand, ma’am. My shipmates never went at all. They thought I was queer in the attic to go stand in dusty churches admiring frescoes.”

They smiled at each other, and James felt warmth steal over him. He couldn’t identify the feeling, but it had something to do with having found a kindred spirit. He was inside the circle for the first time since his half-sister Claire had held his hand and taken him in to hear the carolers in the great hall of Kettering.

“Now, Captain,” Lady Mattingly’s voice interrupted James’s thoughts. “I am going to claim your attention, and insist that you tell me every particular of Gerald’s rescue. Not one thing is to be omitted, I do not care whether it is embarrassing to you or not. I must know everything!”

James smiled back at his hostess. “Anything I can say that would increase my standing with you, my lady, be assured I will tell you.” It was almost the first time he could remember essaying even a mild joke to a lady. They had always set his teeth on edge. What might they know? What might they say? Easier to remain stiff and formal. He decided to venture a further sally.

“Well, first of all, I leapt overboard and swam five miles out to sea, where I found Sir Gerald. I held his unconscious body aloft with one hand and swam back to the boat. The cannons were not firing quickly enough, so I picked up the cannonballs and threw them at the enormous pirate ship that threatened us. If it had not been for my exploits, I fear Sir Gerald would have had to rescue himself.”

Lady Mattingly was amused at his farrago of nonsense and placed a warm hand on his arm. “I will not ask you again, Captain. You are right. It is enough that I know what Gerald told me—that you saved his life. I cannot tell you how happy I am that you came to Hampshire, to us.”

James smiled, relieved. He hoped she wouldn’t ask again. He never got used to talking about himself. There were so many questions he didn’t want to answer. But he would have to talk to Lady Margaret. For her he would have to answer all the questions he didn’t want asked. But not yet. Tomorrow. And then he cursed himself for being a coward.

Later in the evening, after the gentlemen had joined the ladies in the drawing room, Gerald found himself talking to Annis Fairchild while the Grandbys’ eldest daughter butchered a Haydn sonata on the pianoforte.

“I begin to think that the captain will do very well here, Miss Fairchild,” Gerald said. “He seems at home in his quiet way with all of us after only this short time. Do you not think so?” He waited for her answer, for he valued her opinion, and saw with apprehension the tiny frown that marred her smooth brow.

“Yes,” she answered reluctantly. “But there is something so”—she searched for a word— “so guarded, almost secretive about him. I would like Meg to know more of his family, his background before they become formally betrothed.”

Gerald was used to keeping secrets, but keeping this one from Miss Fairchild bothered him. “I feel sure that there will be several lengthy conversations when Meg’s solicitor arrives. He is very protective of her, you know. I wouldn’t worry about any secrets.” He tried to sound positive.

If Annis noticed that he had not said the captain had no secrets he knew of, she gave no sign. Gerald was about to breathe more easily when Mrs. Headley, one of the inveterate gossips of the area, bustled over to try to worm information out of him.

How long had Sir Gerald known the captain? Had the captain really rescued him from pirates? Was it true naval prize money made him worth more than two hundred thousand pounds? Where did he come from? Who were his family? There were Sheridans everywhere, but surely it was an Irish name. Did Gerald know if the captain was Irish?

Gerald answered the questions he chose to, and avoided the others so adroitly, he was certain Mrs. Headley hardly noticed the omissions. He had been able to avoid M. Talleyrand’s most adroit gambits, and he prided himself that no one at this gathering could best him. But as he looked up and met Annis’s level gaze, he had a sinking feeling that he had not pulled one inch of wool over those clear blue eyes.

Captain James Sheridan had better not delay very much longer, or he might not be the one to reveal his status to his promised bride. And if that occurred, Gerald did not want to be around for the resulting explosion.

He looked over to the settee where Meg and his mother were talking. Their expressions were so serious, Gerald felt a slight sense of unease. His mother might be less than diplomatic, but her methods of extracting information would put Fouché, Napoleon’s master of clandestine information, to shame. He made his way by slow degrees to their sides.

As he approached. Lady Mattingly was saying, “I am so relieved to see the shadows gone from your eyes, my dear. Am I correct in thinking that something has happened recently to ease your financial situation?”

If her silence hadn’t given Meg away, the look of consternation with which she greeted Gerald would have. “I—I,” she began, but got no further.

“What is it, my dear?” said her ladyship. “You can tell me.”