Ransome's Honor (6 page)

“Yes, Mama.” Charlotte closed the door behind her mother. At her desk, she quickly scrawled the last lines of the letter, wrote the direction on the outside, and sealed it with yellow wax. Now it was finished, she had no idea when she might be able to post it.

She pulled a few things out of her valise, hid the letter in the folds of a petticoat, and returned to her packing.

Her stomach gave a leap. On Tuesday, they would arrive in Portsmouth.
Portsmouth!
Long had Charlotte desired to see the south part of the country, especially the city her brothers mentioned often. Hopefully she would be able to visit the dockyard, to see the place where the fleet was mustered to defend King and country. She hoped William would finally take them aboard his ship.

Her excitement changed to anxiety at the thought of her eldest brother. She had received letters regularly from William-and sent twice as many in return-but she’d seen him only once since childhood, two years ago for a very brief visit. So much had happened in her life since then.

She cast a glance at her trunk: packed, locked, ready to be carried downstairs by the coachman in the morning. The muslin-wrapped bundle buried at the bottom burned her conscience. If her brother, or worse yet her mother, ever discovered its existence and learned what it contained, she would lose their good opinion forever. Charlotte had to keep her secret without compounding her guilt by lying to her family.

This journey had given her the seeds for a plan. Now she needed to determine how to put the plan into action.

Yesterday’s rain had given way to sunlight that now streamed in through Julia’s bedroom windows. The small clock on the mantel chimed eleven times. In two hours, her aunt would be receiving callers. When she did, she expected Julia’s attendance. Where could Julia go to avoid sitting in the front parlor with her aunt all day?

Susan. Of course. She would call upon her friend and receive her punishment for not attending Lady Fairfax’s card party yestereve.

After sending word for the carriage to be brought around, she dressed appropriately for morning calls—not wanting word to get back to Aunt Augusta she’d again been seen making calls in a work-dress.

A quarter hour later, her father’s driver, Elton, handed Julia down from the barouche, escorted her to the front door of the Yateses’ townhouse, and knocked for her. “Shall I wait for you, miss?”

“Let me find out if she is in.”

After a few moments, just as Elton raised his hand to knock again, the door swung open to reveal Fawkes, impeccably dressed as always. “Good morning, Miss Witherington. Please, do come in.”

“Thank you.” She turned to Elton. “Return for me at two o’clock, please.”

“No need, miss. Our driver can see you home when you’re ready,” Fawkes offered.

She argued, but to no avail. She sent Elton home and then followed the butler into the tiled foyer.

“The missus is upstairs in the sitting room.” Fawkes motioned toward the stairs. “I apologize for not escorting you, miss, but...” he patted his left leg.

“No, no. I can find my way” Climbing up and down the several flights of stairs in the townhouse must be hard on the elderly man’s joints. She ascended with ease. The double doors near the first floor landing stood open, and Julia could hear Susan humming. She knocked on one of the open doors. “Susan?”

“Julia! What a pleasant surprise.” Susan Yates crossed the room and hugged her. “I’m so glad you came by Can you stay for a while?”

“All day if you can bear my presence so long.” Julia rested her hands on the shorter woman’s shoulders and held her at arms’ length. “I have come to receive my punishment.”

Susan’s tinkling laugh reminded Julia of why she enjoyed the younger woman’s company so much. Regardless of the worries or troubles Julia carried, only a few moments in Susan’s presence made them all disappear.

“I shall have to think of something appropriate to the level of the offense. Come in and sit down. I’ve bought a new hat for church tomorrow, but I think it needs something.”

Julia shook her head at the mountain of ribbons and silk flowers piled on the low table in front of the gold and ivory striped settee. The new hat turned out to be a straw bonnet with a wide brim lined in blue silk that would frame Susan’s cherubic face and emphasize her azure eyes.

“Lady Dalrymple asked particularly after you last night. She feared you must be gravely ill to miss one of Lady Fairfax’s card parties.” Susan rolled her eyes.

“I shall call on her tomorrow to reassure her of my robust health.” Julia ran her fingers over the smooth, cool surface of a satin ribbon.

Susan launched into the gossip of new romances between young couples formed because of Lady Dalrymple’s “shrewdness in arranging the tables.” Apparently at least one engagement had been entered into in the last few months because of the dowager viscountess—or at least, she liked to brag so. “She was so disappointed you were not there last night. She was certain you and Sir someone-or-another would make a great match.”

“Yes, she and my aunt are probably planning it together. Both of them would like nothing better than to see me married to some Englishman and settled on an estate in the country with a townhouse in London.”

“Now, Julia,” Susan chided.

“I know But if I’m going to marry an Englishman, ’twill be one who will let me go home—back to Jamaica.”

“Such as an officer in the Royal Navy?” Susan caught her bottom lip in her perfect, pearly teeth.

So, they’d come to that subject already. “You, more than anyone else, know my feelings about William Ransome.”

“Julia, it was twelve years ago. You were only seventeen, he only twenty-two. He felt he still had to make his way in the world before he would be worthy to ask for your hand.”

“Then why did he not renew his addresses once he began to gain fortune ? When he was promoted to post captain? Because his true intention was never toward me, but to ingratiate himself to my father. Otherwise, he’d have answered my letter and explained himself.” Julia pressed her fist to her mouth, mortified she had let the words slip out.

Susan’s smile vanished immediately. “You...you wrote to him? After he went to Gateacre? You never told me.”

Julia took control of her roiling emotions with one deep breath. “No doubt he, like me, was ready to move on, to forget that a simple flirtation was misinterpreted by everyone but him.” She patted Susan’s hand in reassurance. “Tierra Dulce is my true love; a husband, merely a complication. If I ever marry, I want to make a good choice, but falling in love does not figure into my plans.”

“Why have you hardened your heart so to love? I do not wish to tell you what you have doubtless heard many times over...but when you fall in love with the man God has created for you, it’s as if you’ve found a missing part of yourself. Until you meet him, you may never know something is missing.”

“And then the woman must give up everything, must sacrifice her own wishes and desires to do the bidding of her husband, whether it is what she wants or not.” Julia’s throat grew tighter with each passing moment; deep breathing was not going to keep her tears at bay long.

“What makes you think so? Yes, many women choose to give up their own desires to fulfill their husbands’ dreams. But just as many husbands make sacrifices to give their wives the desires of their hearts.”

Julia tried to laugh, but it came out as a high-pitched rasp. “Perhaps Collin does for you. But I know of no others.”

“Who—?”

“My father.” Julia leapt to her feet and crossed to the window beside the fireplace. She folded her arms and glared out over Susan’s beautiful back garden. “My mother pined for him, hoping he would send for her and bring her back to England. She dwindled away to a ghost of herself because she loved him so much. And he...the Royal Navy has always been his first love.”

She turned, blinking away gathering moisture. “And you—what about all of these months, these years you’ve lived in terror, not knowing if Collin was dead or alive? You cannot tell me there haven’t been times you wished you had never fallen in love.”

Sorrow clouded Susan’s sapphire eyes. “I will admit to a moment’s regret now and again at having fallen in love
with a sailor
, but never have I regretted loving Collin. Even the worst pain I have felt at suffering miscarriage after miscarriage, the worst fear I have endured of not knowing if Collin would come home, has been better than never having loved at all.”

Immediately contrite, Julia fell to her knees beside the settee and took Susan’s hands in her own. “I am sorry. I did not mean—please forgive me. I know love has brought you joy. But it has brought me only pain. Everyone I have loved—my brother, my mother, William—I have lost. I do not see the purpose of willfully subjecting myself to that kind of pain again.”

Susan’s mouth tilted up even as her lips trembled. “Loving does mean loss. But would you give up the joy of the time you did have with your mother and brother to avoid the pain of separation?”

Julia sat back on her heels. Give up her mother? Michael? “If I admit you might have a point, will you lord it over me for the rest of my life?”

“Most likely”

She moved back to her seat on the settee. “Tell me all about the matches Lady Dalrymple said she made last night.”

Julia’s lap became a repository for the ribbons and flowers Susan rejected as she merrily repeated the viscountess’s stories of matches made and broken, some all in the course of the evening.

Susan Yates fascinated Julia. Susan enjoyed talking about anything— Collin said she talked just to hear the sound of her own voice—and required nothing but an occasional one- or two-word response from Julia to know she was still listening. Half the time, Julia wasn’t sure what Susan was saying.

In many ways—from her seemingly constant good humor, to her forgetfulness, to her love of talking—Susan reminded Julia of Michael. If they’d had a sister—

A knock on the front door interrupted her musings. Now seated on the floor beside the low coffee table, the only notice Susan took was to say, “I wonder who that might be,” and then continue with her story.

Brisk footsteps sounded on the stairs, yet Susan talked on, tossing more ribbons and flowers at Julia. With her back to the open doors, Julia could hear but not see the guest enter the room.

Susan finally looked up and then scrambled to her feet. “Gracious! Is it past two already?” In response, the grandfather clock chimed once for half-past.

Julia shoved the pile of accoutrements from her lap onto the settee and stood to greet her friend’s guest properly. Framed in the doorway stood William Ransome, his crisp indigo uniform showing his strong-but-slim build to perfection. His dark hair curled a bit over the high collar, and the skin around his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Her heart thudded traitorously.

Susan’s eyes sparkled when she looked from Julia to William. “Miss Julia Witherington, I believe you know Captain William Ransome.”

If being forced to spend time with William was Susan’s idea of an
appropriate
punishment for missing the card party last night, Julia did not want to know what Susan would do to her if she ever did something truly awful.

Chapter Four

W
illiam’s stomach lurched—just as it did when his ship dropped into a trough in a storm-tossed sea. Julia’s emerald green eyes widened, and her cheeks lost their color. He squelched the desire to cross the room and draw her into his arms, to beg her forgiveness for walking away from her twelve years ago. He had not slept last night, his thoughts entangled with comparisons of Julia Witherington as he’d seen her at dinner and the memory he’d carried tucked away in his heart for so many years. Though he’d thought it improbable, she was even more beautiful now than she had been at seventeen.

Susan cleared her throat, and he remembered himself and bowed. “Miss Witherington.”

She came up out of a stiff curtsey. “Captain Ransome. I had not known you were expected, or I would have timed my call so as not to intrude—”

“Don’t be a goose, Julia.” Susan waved her hands for both of them to sit. “William has come to stay a few weeks until his ship is repaired.” She pulled the bell cord by the door. “William, did Fawkes show you to your room?”

He dragged his gaze away from the pink ribbon Miss Witherington rolled around her long, slender fingers. “No. He suggested I see you first.”

Susan hooked her arm through his. “Come then, I will show you. Julia, we shall return shortly.” The housekeeper stepped into the room. “Ah, Agatha. Have Cook send up tea, please.”

“I...” Julia looked from Susan to William and back to Susan.

“Come, William.”

He followed his best friend’s wife out of the room and retrieved his small valise from the floor just outside the door.

“Imagine my surprise,” Susan looked over her shoulder, preceding him up the stairs, “when dear Julia arrived for a visit on the same day I expected you to come stay.”

The image of Julia’s green eyes, full of pained displeasure, floated in his mind. “Susan, you know Miss Witherington does not welcome my presence.”

Susan’s laughter—so different than that of his men—jarred him. “Nonsense. She is as happy as I to greet an old friend.” She stopped at the last door on the back side of the house. “Here is your room. I expect to see you in no less than twenty minutes.” She wagged her finger at him.

He opened his mouth to disagree with her on Julia’s happiness to see him, but the words stuck in his throat when he entered the luxurious bedroom. The heavy wood furniture—from the carved canopy supported by pillar-like bedposts to the wardrobe with a sparkling mirror in the door—was fancier than the finest inn William had ever stayed at.

“Twenty minutes.” Susan flitted away.

It was just his luck Julia Witherington had chosen to call on Susan Yates today. And with the discomfort she’d shown last night and just now at his presence, he couldn’t imagine why his innards—and good sense—mutinied at the thought of being near her.

If he had not written his mother and asked her to meet him in Portsmouth for a visit, he could have escaped north to Gateacre.

He sank onto a chaise that flanked the Grecian fireplace. “Lord, give me strength to overcome any lingering romantic thoughts of Julia Witherington. Make me forget I once planned to marry her.”

Julia ceased pacing when Susan reappeared. “Really, I should leave. You must have much you wish to discuss with Captain Ransome—”

“Hush. I will hear nothing more on the subject. You must accustom yourself to his presence, as you will not be able to avoid him for the next three weeks.”

Julia glared at her friend through narrowed eyes. “I hope you are not forcing us together in hopes William will renew his addresses to me.

Susan blinked, affecting an innocent expression. “I would never dream of something so conniving.” At another knock on the front door, she slipped out of the room to stand at the head of the stairs, where she could hear the mumble of voices below. She nodded and then returned to the sitting room. “Admiral Hinds’s wife has come to call. This is turning into a party.”

Some of Julia’s anxiety abated. Mrs. Hinds probably did not know Captain Ransome and could therefore be counted upon to carry the conversation.

The small, dark-haired woman entered and greeted Susan and Julia as old friends. The remainder of Julia’s worries melted away under the two officers’ wives’ discussion of mutual acquaintances and the latest meeting of the Naval Family Aid Society, which Julia had not attended due to accompanying her aunt on calls.

Captain Ransome appeared in the doorway and cleared his throat. Julia tried to calm her heart, tried to ignore the fact the man was more handsome than his gold-adorned uniform, tried to stop herself from admiring the way the indigo of his uniform contrasted with the light blue of his eyes.

Susan finished introducing Captain Ransome and Mrs. Hinds, and they all regained their seats—Captain Ransome sitting in the armchair beside Mrs. Hinds, Julia with Susan on the settee.

“I heard you speaking of the Naval Family Aid Society.” Captain Ransome looked from Susan to Mrs. Hinds. “I would like to make a donation if you could direct me to the treasurer.”

Both women turned to look at Julia.

Her cheeks flamed. “I am the treasurer, Captain.”

His eyes held hers a moment, inscrutable. “I understood you had not been in Portsmouth long, Miss Witherington.”

“Nearly nine months.”

“Miss Witherington wanted to participate, but because her rather—” Susan gave Julia an apologetic glance—“because the admiral must carry out his orders of decommissioning the fleet, none of the families would accept the charity if they knew of her involvement.”

“She has a finesse with numbers the rest of us lacked,” Mrs. Hinds added. “Got us out of a pinch we did not even know we were in.”

Julia focused on the pattern of tiny flowers in the fabric of her skirt and prayed for a change of subject.

“Julia has been able to acquire more donations for the fund in the last six months than we’ve had in the last two years.” Susan beamed at her like a proud parent.

She would not have been surprised if flames burst from her cheeks.

Mrs. Hinds must have realized her discomfort. “Captain, what part of England do you call home?”

“Gateacre—a small farming town near Liverpool.”

“We made berth in Liverpool harbor many times when I traveled with my husband during his captaincy...”

The admiral’s wife kept the conversation going with stories of her travels around the world with her husband.

Julia found her gaze straying to William time and again. His eyes occasionally flickered her direction. Each time, she immediately turned toward Susan or Mrs. Hinds. He bore little resemblance to the fifteen-year-old midshipman who had not only concealed his knowledge of her true identity under her brother’s clothes but had been kind and helpful as she’d climbed the rope shrouds to the foremast top several times. Even as a girl of only ten, she had recognized the strong features in his face—broad forehead, dark brows, square jaw—that would mature into the commanding presence he now possessed.

Coldness crept into Julia’s spirit. This man seated across the low table had courted her not for her wealth, but for promotion, for her father’s attention and patronage. He’d succeeded in gaining the admiral’s affections—replacing her brother in her father’s heart—but she refused to allow William Ransome the opportunity to hurt her again.

Charlotte awoke with a start as the carriage rattled over yet another hole in the road. With eagerness, she’d arisen before dawn and had been downstairs, waiting for her mother before the driver arrived, as promised. Now, after more than eight hours of bumping, swaying, clattering, and rattling, Charlotte wondered why she’d ever imagined this journey to be glamorous. If only William had arranged for them to take the trip by sea—though that would have taken much longer—she could have been watching, studying, learning.

Mama sat across from her, calmly stitching away, embroidering tiny silk flowers onto the edge of a gossamer wrap for Charlotte. How her mother had the patience to do such intricate work...Charlotte sighed and took up the book splayed open on her lap. She’d never had the patience for sewing of any kind—she’d much rather be reading or out and about with Philip. Well, before he left for sea when Charlotte was seven. After that, it had just been her and Mama. Her three brothers, but William especially, had done their best to fill the void left by their father’s death in a far-distant port mere months after Charlotte’s birth. Her mother said they spoiled her.

She glanced down at System
of Universal Signals by
Day
and
Night, which Philip had studied but left behind in his bedroom before signing on as a midshipman ten years ago. She’d read it so often in the intervening time, she knew all of the flags individually as well as all of the signals they could possibly be combined to create. When they stopped for the night, she would exchange this book for the tome
Sermons on
the Character
and
Professional Duties of Seamen. If only her mother did not object to Charlotte’s reading novels, she would be able to read that new one she’d picked up just the other day...what was it called? Proud and something? Something and
Preconception?
Both words started with
P
; that was all she could remember. But the same nameless lady had also written another book Charlotte had enjoyed.

The three volumes of the new novel were slim enough...perhaps she could conceal them inside
Sermon
and have something enjoyable to read after all.

“I really must be going.” Mrs. Hinds stood and began to slip on her gloves. “Admiral Hinds will have expected me hours ago. I do not usually make calls on Saturday, but as he had to be at the port Admiralty all day today, I could see no point in sitting at home alone when I could just walk up the street to see you.”

“I’m so pleased you came, Mrs. Hinds.” Susan reached out and clasped the other woman’s hand. “And you know you are welcome anytime you wish to pay a call.”

Julia got to her feet. “Yes, I should return home as well. My father and aunt will be expecting me for dinner.”

Susan rested her hand on Julia’s arm when Julia would have walked past her.

William adjusted his uniform coat with a tug at the waist. “Mrs. Hinds, may I have the honor of walking you home?”

The woman only a few years older than Julia and Susan beamed at him like a debutante. “Of course, Captain. It will allow me to introduce you to my husband.” She took his proffered arm, and with polite farewells, the admiral’s wife and William departed.

Susan kept hold of Julia’s arm until they heard the front door close. She pulled Julia back down onto the settee. “See, that wasn’t nearly as difficult as you imagined, was it?”

“The only thing I can say that was good about this afternoon is that it seems Mrs. Hinds has not heard the story about how I managed to run off the most eligible lieutenant in the Royal Navy twelve years ago and am now paying for it with my continued spinsterhood.”

Susan’s pale brows pinched in a frown. “Where have you heard such talk?”

“I did not hear it myself, but my cook reported she heard it at market this morning.” Julia stood and wandered the length of the room, running her fingertips along the chair rail.