Sails on the Horizon: A Novel of the Napoleonic Wars (14 page)

“Oh,” Winchester said. He swallowed hard and his eyes darted everywhere except at Charles. “I was thinking of asking her to marry me.”

Charles stood, stunned. “Dear God help us,” he muttered finally. He knew from direct experience that years at sea, punctuated by dalliances with mercenary ladies at various ports of call, did strange things to a man and his matrimonial inclinations. Many wealthy, even titled, officers had married barmaids or innkeeper’s daughters, even actresses or prostitutes—virtually the first woman they met on shore who treated them half-decently. This problem did not apply to Charles himself, of course, since he was older and more experienced, but Winchester was obviously smitten. “Do you know what you’re saying? You’ve only known her two days. She’s only sixteen.”

“Yes, sir,” Winchester replied, the starch of defiance in his voice. “She’s almost seventeen. My mother was fifteen when—”

“I don’t care if your mother was still crawling on all fours,” Charles growled. “We’re talking about my sister here. And don’t call me ‘sir.’ What would your father say?”

Winchester’s voice roise. “I don’t give a damn what my father says. And I’m sorry she’s your sister, but you asked my intentions and I’ve told you. Besides, you’re doing the same thing.”

“The hell I am!” Charles snapped. “That’s entirely different.”

“How?” Winchester shot back. “How is it so different?”

“How is that different? How? Because—because I’m a commander and you’re a lieutenant. That’s how. I mean, I’m older than you. I’m wiser, too. It’s clear as day.” Charles heard the words as they came out of his mouth and realized how absurd they sounded. “Hell’s fire,” he said after a moment. “You’d be a lucky man.”

“Yes, sir,” Winchester replied, breathing hard.

“Oh, stop with the ‘sirs,’” Charles said resignedly. “You’re talking about becoming my brother-in-law.”

“I didn’t think about that,” Winchester said, a grin on his face. “Maybe I’ll reconsider.”

“Have you spoken to Ellie about this?”

“Not directly,” Winchester said seriously. “I made an allusion yesterday, something about her being the sunshine in the springtime of our lives together, but I’m not sure she caught my drift.”

“God, you’re poetical,” Charles said. “Here are the standing orders,” he went on, remembering Penny’s instructions for him to be as clear as possible. “No—er, relations—without a priest having blessed it. And even so you’ll have to talk to John first. He’s her guardian.”

___

THE FOLLOWING SEVERAL
days passed in a blur of activity. Early the next morning a crew of builders showed up—carpenters, masons, thatchers, roofers, glaziers, painters—to begin the repair and refurbishing of Edgemont Hall. Soon the air was crowded with the ringing of hammers, the rasp of saws, and the chatter of workmen passing to and fro. At midmorning a coach and four arrived, the horses steaming from exertion. Two well-dressed men emerged, a very wide middle-aged accountant named Mr. Rhodes and a young, more naturally proportioned assistant named Mr. Smith. They had been dispatched by Thaddeus Edwards, Mr. Rhodes announced, in response to Captain Edgemont’s inquiry about the purchase of the Howell estate. Mr. Rhodes and Mr. Smith took two full days, insisting Charles accompany them, investigating every aspect of the Howell buildings and property, as well as other available properties in the area. They also spent a day in Chester on the tax records at the Registry Office. In the end the accountant approved of the purchase of the estate in its entirety, mentioned a sum, and recommended acquiring a second property of about one thousand acres adjoining Edgemont Hall. This was to be joined with the family estate in return for giving Charles half-ownership of the whole, including forgiveness of the monies he had already lent his brother. “Mr. Edwards,” Mr. Rhodes said confidentially, “feels very positively toward investing in agriculture at the moment and feels crop prices will rise significantly as the war with France progresses.” Mr. Rhodes then offered his legal and financial expertise to bring the matter to completion.

Charles went to talk with his brother. They had a long discussion, eventually agreeing to the proposal for joint ownership of an expanded Edgemont estate, which John would manage. John also agreed to look after his brother’s other property while Charles was at sea. With everything in place, Charles told Mr. Rhodes to make it so.

Around ten the next morning a navy courier arrived unexpectedly and asked to speak with Commander Charles Edgemont of His Majesty’s Navy on official business. Attwater called him from the stables, where he was saddling Pendle; he was about to call on Penny to tell her about his new estates. When informed about the courier, Charles’s heart sank. More than likely he was to deliver orders for Charles to report to Plymouth immediately, or at least sooner than expected, due to some emergency or another. He left the horse in its stall and, muttering obscenities to himself, went to meet the courier.

“Commander Edgemont, sir?” the man inquired as Charles approached.

“Yes,” Charles answered.

“I’m sorry to intrude, sir, but Admiral Livingston—he’s the port admiral at Liverpool—has asked to inquire as to your availability for a temporary command of not more than one month’s duration. I am to return with your answer.”

Charles relaxed. It was an offer he could refuse without incurring the displeasure of the Admiralty. “What sort of command?” he asked, although he already knew what answer he would give.

“The brig
Lomond,
sir, twelve guns. You’d perform duties as required by the local admiral in the Irish Sea for about one month while her usual commander recovers from an illness. You would be expected to report in a week’s time.”

This was easy. He could well imagine what the “duties as required” for a tiny brig would be: carrying dispatches and supplies to the larger warships on the Irish station, keeping a lookout for a French invasion fleet (there had been an unsuccessful attempt by the French to invade Ireland only months before), and suppressing the smugglers and privateers who abounded in the area. It might have been an interesting challenge at another time, but he had a larger and more powerful frigate awaiting him, and he was in any case involved in the much more engaging pursuit of Penny Brown. The privateers and smugglers would have to wait.

“Please convey my regrets to Admiral Livingston,” Charles answered. “I am flattered by his offer, but family responsibilities require my attention here. I must decline.”

“I see, sir,” the courier responded evenly. “I will inform the admiral of your decision.”

AS SOON AS
the courier was given refreshment in the house and had departed, Charles returned to the stables, finished saddling Pendle, and left to call on Penny in an exuberant mood, full of the news and possibilities he was bursting to share with her. He was, he realized as the stallion trotted along, a made man: a substantial landowner, a ship’s captain in demand, and, in every sense but one, set for life. The only things he lacked were a loving wife and a growing number of children at home.

As he trotted up the drive, he saw her kneeling on the ground by a flowerbed at the front of her father’s house, pruning some rose bushes with her good arm. Charles called to her and waved. She put aside her shears, rose, dusted off her dress, straightened her bonnet, and stood waiting for him quietly.

Charles dismounted and tied Pendle to a post. “I have great news,” he said. “I’m now a landowner, a real landowner. I’ve bought the old Howell place and more. You remember, I told you about it. We’ll have to decide on a new name for the place. It has a beautiful large house. Imagine.”

“I am happy for thee,” she said, smiling, but not smiling as much as he would have expected.

“I want you to come and see it,” he said. Then, sensing something had changed in her, the edge of his exuberance dulled. “It’s beautiful, all hills and fields and trees…a stream…” His voice trailed off. “What’s the matter?”

Penny rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead. Charles thought she looked unhappy. “I must discourse with thee,” she said.

“Of course, we can talk anytime, about anything you like. But I want to show it to you,” he persisted.

“I dare not,” she answered.

“Oh, we can bring your mother or brother for a chaperone. That would be all right. Or I could bring Ellie.”

“That is not the reason. We must discourse first.”

“Discourse about what?” He felt disappointed by her lack of enthusiasm and a little put-upon. What about his grand news?

“We must discuss thy being a soldier in the navy.” She said it with her feet planted firmly on the ground, facing him squarely, as if preparing to resist him.

“We talked about that already,” he said, stiffening his back. “The navy is my life. I thought that was settled.”

She shook her head. “No, that was not settled. I said that I would labor on it further with thee.”

“What on earth does ‘labor with’ mean?”

“It means I will discuss, persuade, argue about it with thee. I told thee, I have difficulties with thy being in the navy.”

“All right, all right,” Charles said, raising his hands, trying to be reasonable. “What’s wrong with my being in the navy? It’s an honorable profession. I’m defending our country.”

“It is a violent and destructive profession. When thou dost violence against other people, thou dost violence against God.”

“No, I don’t,” Charles insisted. “I don’t attack churches or priests. I fight for England against the French and her allies at sea.”

“But the French, the Spanish, the Dutch, all of them are God’s people,” Penny insisted. “To do violence against any person is against God’s law, ‘Thou shalt not kill.’”

“Well, maybe the Dutch,” Charles conceded. “But the French and Spanish are both Catholic…” He stopped, sensing that continuing this line of argument would resolve nothing. Instead he said, “Do you remember what you said to me the other day about listening to God?”

Penny nodded her head warily.

“God tells me I should be in the navy.”

“God told you that?” she said incredulously.

“I didn’t hear a voice saying, ‘Charles, I want you to be in the navy.’ But I am content being a naval officer, and my conscience is clear. I feel in my heart that I am doing the right thing.”

He saw her expression harden. “So thou wilt not leave the navy?” she said.

“Oh, fine,” Charles snapped. “This isn’t fair. You’re asking me to choose between two things I love—my commission and you.”

Penny’s eyes widened. “Didst thou say ‘love’?”

“Care about,” he hastily corrected himself. “I care about you. You know that.”

She lowered her head so that the bonnet hid her face. “I have a tenderness for thee also,” she said carefully. “That is why thy being a soldier is important. In addition to the other things, thou couldst be injured badly or killed. If thy profession is doing violence to others, it may also do violence to thy body or thy soul.”

“If something were to happen to me, if we were…joined, you would be well cared for,” he said.

“There are many things more important than wealth,” she answered. Then she looked up and said, “Let us talk of other things.”

Charles welcomed the opportunity to change the subject of their conversation. “About visiting my land?” he asked.

“No, I cannot,” she said gently. “It would be a step. I cannot take steps now.”

“If we can sit on that bench, I’ll tell you about Ellie and Winchester,” he said hopefully. They walked to a long wooden bench at the front of the house and sat, side by side, a little apart. Charles told her of his talk with Winchester and of Winchester’s declared aspirations to marry his sister. Penny described almost word for word Ellie’s visit and her own advices on appropriate female deportment with respect to ardent men, some of which they laughed about together.

“I don’t think it’s a bad match, thy sister and Stephen Winchester,” Penny said at length. “I wish Ellie were a little older and that they could have had more time to get to know each other in a normal way. But she admires him greatly, and I think he would be a good and loving husband to her.”

Charles carefully took her good hand and held it in his own. “Something similar might be said about you and me,” he said softly.

Penny removed her hand from his and brushed it against his cheek. “I know,” she said, her voice almost a whisper, “but it’s not the same for thee and me. Thou art being true to thy beliefs about fighting and war, and I must be true to mine. Thou wouldn’t want me otherwise, and I couldn’t live with myself if I weren’t.”

“You can’t mean that,” he said, even though he was pretty sure now that she did.

“I mean,” she said hesitantly, “that I don’t see how we can…continue, with this between us.”

Charles kicked at the dirt in the path and felt a heavy weight settle in his chest. It was bitterly ironic that two of the things that attracted him to her the most, her directness and independence, would keep them apart. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

“I know it’s not easy for thee,” she said.

“Is that all?” he managed. “Is that the end? Because of my…” He left the thought unfinished.

She turned and faced him with tears on her cheeks. “Oh, Charles,” she said, “I’m so sorry for thee. I understand thou had great plans. I don’t know what to do. I don’t think it can be.” She was silent for a moment, then said, “I think we shouldn’t see each other for a time. I want to be fair to thee. I don’t want to keep thee hanging on false hopes.”

“I see,” Charles said, not really seeing at all. The sun had already set, he noticed, and it would be dark before he reached home. “I’d best be going,” he said, not wanting to leave.

Penny nodded.

“Wilt thou ask Ellie to continue to visit me?” she said, wiping at her cheeks with her hand.

“I’ll tell her,” Charles said. There seemed to be nothing more to say, so he rose from the bench and started toward his horse. Penny followed close behind. Before he could put his foot in the stirrup, she took hold of his arm and turned him toward her.

“I want to thank thee,” she said evenly. “Thou hast been a good friend to me. I want thee to know that I care deeply for thee and always will, no matter what happens between us.”