The Captain's Daughter (3 page)

“It’s not completely dark yet and
there is a quarter moon,” said Emma sticking her head in the door of Amy’s
room. “Would you like to take a walk in the garden and tell me all about you
adventures at the ball this evening, and how you danced with a prince, and how
you lost your slipper, and came home in a pumpkin pulled by three blind mice.”

Amy laughingly consented.

After standing talking by the
sundial for a few minutes they began to slowly stroll down the drive in the
direction of the road from Stokley. The Sibbridge Estate, beyond the gardens
that were immediately in front of the manor, had a generous three hundred feet
of lawn which their gardeners kept well-manicured. The drive ran down the
middle of the lawn and into a small wood which reached all the way to the road.

Although the sky was now completely
dark except for the curved wedge of moon, the girls had wandered down to the
road. With their house and the nearly unoccupied Hillside House beyond the only
destinations on the road, there was normally no traffic except for an
occasional visitor or a herder passing with a flock of sheep or cattle.

For a few minutes, Amy and Emma
stood talking in the hushed tones that such settings seem to naturally invoke.
They were about to return to the house when they heard a noise coming from the
direction of the town.

Puzzled and a little nervous, and
curious too, standing close to the bushes where they could not be seen, they
watched as lights approached. Rumbling and rattling noisily a black coach
furiously pulled by four black horses, thundered past them kicking up dust and
gravel which crackled into the bushes next to the two huddled girls.

“What was that,” Emma said shakily.

“I don’t know,” whispered Amy as
she strained to look at the disappearing coach lights, “but it’s going in the
direction of Hillside House.”

“We better hurry back to the
house,” said Emma nervously. And they did.

The next morning
, Amy was a little late for
breakfast. Normally this would have brought a reprimand from her mother who was
deeply opposed to the common practice of so many of the landed gentry of
England who usually had their servants set out the items of food for breakfast
in the appropriate serving dishes on the sideboard of the dining room, so their
family and guests could wander in at all times of the morning and eat.

This morning, however, Lady
Sibbridge couldn’t get a word in because Mattie was enthusiastically telling
everyone about the ball at the Brewminster’s. Everyone, was limited to her
mother who was there at the ball, Emily who was not and whose interest in balls
and the permutations of young lads and lasses was not especially great, and Sir
Anthony whose participation in any conversation, or understanding of any
account given, was always in some doubt. He would sit quietly, occasionally
smile and nod, but no one knew how much he really understood. Sometimes his
comments seemed quite lucid, but other times no one was quite sure what he
meant.

Amy quietly took her place at the
table.

“What is your opinion?”

Amy realized that Mattie was
speaking to her, but she had no idea what she was supposed to have an opinion
about. She hadn’t admitted Mattie’s conversation to her still slightly fuzzy
brain.

“Opinion?”

“You know, your opinion about that
Mr. Anstruther.”

“Well, I...”

“As well as I can see, he is most
aloof.” Matty continued unabated. “Is that not right, Amy? You danced with him
a full half of the evening. I’m not blaming you for that since there was no one
else to dance with you.”

Matty was a sweet, kindly girl, but
sometimes a trifle indiscreet.

“I danced with the Throckmorton boy
half the evening,” said Amy a little testily and with emphasis on the last
three words.

“Isn’t he so sweet,” said Mattie.
“He is so kind. He danced all these dances with you because he felt sorry for
you since no one would dance with you.”

Amy was suppressing what she wanted
to say when she noticed outside the dining room window that some riders in
fox-hunting clothes had arrived.

“Mother, we have visitors,” she
said, thankful for the interruption because she didn’t like the way the
conversation was going.

As she rose to go outside with her
mother, she looked at Emma for the first time this morning. Emma just returned
a sly grin.

As they approached the rider in
red, Emma said excitedly: “Look, Mama, it’s Sir Frank.”

Emma and Sir Frank Ramsey always
got along well. He was always friendly and fun, and he was an old friend of her
father. Many years ago they had served together in the army and had that unique
bond born of the dangers they had survived together.

The second rider was Lady Ramsey in
her black fox-hunting outfit.

“Good morning, Lady Ramsey, Sir
Frank, we’re really happy to see you,” said Amy impishly, “but we don’t want
you to suspect us of hiding the fox, he really isn’t here.”

“Well, I don’t quite know,” said
Sir Frank, “sizing her up. You look just like the sort of varlet who would hide
the fox and deprive a gentleman of the pleasure of catching and feeding it to
the dogs.”

Amy’s mother grimaced and chastised
her with: “Now, now, we’ve had quite enough of that. You must apologize to Sir
Frank for being impolite.”

“Oh, Mildred, don’t take us so
seriously,” said Sir Frank.

“I understood,” said Amy’s mother
who had swiftly floated to another subject, “that Penelope Brewminster was
anticipating your presence last night at the ball. I hope you and Estella
weren’t delayed by anything serious.”

“We did have a little scare,”
answered Sir Frank, “a wheel broke on our coach just outside of Etting Howe.
Fortunately, we were able to locate a wheelwright and soon had it repaired. But
it gave Estella quite a scare.”

“I can understand that,” Lady
Sibbridge said with deep concern. “Anthony and I had that happen years ago. It
feels as if the coach is going to turn all the way over and kill you.”

“That is truly what I thought.”
Estella Ramsey spoke for the first time, with a nervous giggle. “I thought we
were going to die.”

“That isn’t why we weren’t at
Brewminster last night, though,” said Sir Frank, and he didn’t seem too happy.
“The wheelwright was most expeditious in getting the coach up and running, but
Estella...”

“It was getting dark,” interrupted
Lady Ramsey, “and with all the robberies on the London road recently I was
scared to go on. I pleaded with Frank to stay the night in Etting Howe.”

“And that we did,” said an
obviously disgruntled Sir Frank, “and spent the night in the one inn located in
the village, a most inferior establishment. We were kept awake half the night
by a gaggle of drunken travelers downstairs singing loudly and very much off
key.”

“Now Frank,” Lady Ramsey said
affectionately, leaning over to pat his shoulder, “it wasn’t that bad. Better
to be kept awake by a bunch of drunken revelers, than murdered on the highway.”

Sir Frank looked at her and
grinned. “I still have the right to complain. Besides, I have two flintlocks
under the seat. I could deal with any highwaymen. Tony Sibbridge and I have
faced much worse in our time.”

“But you are no longer
twenty-five,” Lady Ramsey reminded him.

“By the way,” said Sir Frank, “how
is Tony.”

“He is well enough—physically.”
Lady Sibbridge broke off, with a troubled expression.

Amy glanced at her mother and then
looked up at Sir Frank. There were tears in her eyes. “Daddy is not doing well.
He seems to have gradually gotten worse since being thrown from his horse.”

“I am truly saddened to hear that.”
Sir Frank looked deeply disturbed to hear of his old friend’s condition. “Do
you think I might visit with him as long as I’m here and can’t find the blasted
fox—or the rest of the hunt for that matter?”

Amy glanced again at her mother.
“He would be very encouraged by a visit from you, Sir Frank, if...”

“If he remembers me?”

Amy nodded.

“The old rascal better remember me,
or I’ll give him a right good thrashing,” said Sir Frank as he dismounted his
horse and tapped his glove with his whip. He helped Lady Ramsey down off her
mount and then they all started slowly towards the front door of the house.

As they strolled to the steps, Amy
broke in, “Daddy has good days and bad days. Some days he seems almost like
before...” She paused.

Lord Ramsey interrupted. “And some
days not?”

Amy looked at him and gave an
almost imperceptible movement of her chin. Then she added quickly “Daddy is in
the dining room eating breakfast.

But Lord Sibbridge was not in the
dining room.

“Tony’s upstairs. We have made a
little office for him at the south end of the landing, with all his memoirs and
papers,” said Lady Sibbridge, adding “you will find him there.”

Accepting her implied invitation,
Frank Ramsey slowly mounted the stairs. After watching him for a few moments,
Lady Sibbridge and Lady Ramsey repaired to the drawing room where Lady Ramsey
regaled her with all the latest news that was setting London abuzz. With tales
of highwaymen plaguing the road from London to Stokely-on-Arne. A plague that
Lady Sibbridge was well aware of, although she only now heard of the terrifying
encounter John Amistead, his wife and daughter had with a gang of riders just
four days ago. The ladies lost their jewelry, the gentleman lost his valuable
pocket watch, but at least they escaped with their lives, unlike a rich
merchant from York just a little more than a week ago.

When the tales of terror blended
into more mundane matters, the girls drifted off. Mattie departed to follow
some ladylike activity, while Emma and Amy headed to the garden.

Glancing over her shoulder to see
if Mattie was really gone, Amy commented to Emma as they strolled out into the
front garden: “I suppose Mattie told you all about the ball at the
Brewminster’s.”

“It’s more like she told us all
about the young men at the ball. Actually it was more like she told me, because
Mother was there and Daddy wasn’t really here. I wish Daddy would get better.”

“I don’t know if that is ever going
to happen, Emma, but we can pray.”

“Maybe the doctors will find some
way to make him better.
The Times
had an essay about a doctor who is
working on cognition. Doctor Willis treated the king four or five years ago and
helped him get over his madness.”

“As I said, Emma, we can hope and
pray, but they say the king’s madness was caused by his indulgent wining and
dining, but Daddy’s was caused by a severe blow to his head.”

“They must come up with some cure,”
said Emma adamantly.

Changing the subject and fighting
the tears she didn’t want Emma to see, she asked with a forced jauntiness, “I
suppose Mattie told you all about the charming James Breverton.”

“James Breverton?” Emma looked
puzzled. “No. Why would she tell me about James Breverton?

“Because she danced with him all
night.”

“She never said anything about
James Breverton. She did tell us about Mr. Benjamin Anstruther, and none of it
was very good.”

“What does she have against
Benjamin... Sir Benjamin? Do you know that he is our neighbor, Amy,” she added
hastily.

“Yes, I do know that he is our
neighbor at Hillside House, and a great many things.”

“What?”

“She has a great many things
against Sir Benjamin Anstruther.”

“What does she have against Sir
Benjamin? He seems like a kindly and most polite gentleman.”

“Well she does seem to think it was
a modest display of kindness for him to dance with you, when Lazarus
Throckmorton was unable to continue rescuing you from the sad tragic life of a
wallflower.”

Amy detected a note of good-natured
sarcasm in Emma’s voice. And then it sank in what she had just said. “Lazarus
Throckmorton...
Lazarus Throckmorton
was rescuing me from being a
wallflower!”

“According to our sister, Mattie,
and Mattie could not be mistaken. Don’t you agree?”

“I only danced with the dangly,
drooly, un-coordinated Lazarus out of pity for the...the... Ohhh!”

“Our dear Mattie gives a slightly
different account of the proceedings.”

“You must understand that Lazarus
can’t dance. I only accepted his invitation out of sheer pity, because no one
would want to dance with Lazarus.”

“You were at the dance, weren’t
you?”

“Of course I was at the dance. Why
do you ask such a silly question,” said Amy shaking her shoulders in
frustration.

“Didn’t you see Mattie dancing with
Master Throckmorton all evening?”

“Well first of all,” said Amy
through gritted teeth, “I don’t know why she said that, because Mattie danced
with James Breverton all evening. And second...” She drifted off, then asked
with a puzzled expression, “She danced with Lazarus Throckmorton?”

“All night, or at least so she
said.”

“She danced with Lazarus
Throckmorton?”

“I believe we already established
that fact.”

“Why?”

“Don’t ask me,” said Emma. “I don’t
know why people dance at all. I think it is a strange ancient primitive custom
that we’ve inherited, that serves no practical purpose.”

“You’ll understand it when you get
older,” said Amy. “She certainly didn’t dance with him all night, but I spent
quite a while with the matrons. Why would she dance with him?”

“Don’t jump at me. I know you have
serious questions regarding Throckmorton’s facility and skill at the dance, but
Mattie holds the opposing opinion. She seems to believe he is quite skilled at
Terpsichore, as well as handsome, charming, kind, and a most enchanting young
man. You disagree?”

As Amy was about to vigorously
disagree she was interrupted by a shrill call of “Emma! Emma Sibbridge!” from
just inside the front door.

“Point-of-view is an intriguing
subject for scientific discussion,” said Emma. “Perhaps we could have a scientific
debate between you and Mattie and ask Sir Frank to invite the members of the
Royal Academy, but right now I’m being pursued by my beloved tutor, Mrs.
Charlotte Parkhurst. I must away.”

Emma ran towards the corner of the
house as Mrs. Parkhurst emerged through the front door blinking and squinting
from the assault of sunlight.

“Next time I’ll tell you about who
really is skilled at the dance,” Amy yelled after Emma, “and handsome, and
charming—Mr. Anstruther.”

She called out his name as Emma
disappeared from view unseen by Mrs. Parkhurst who looked in the direction Amy
was calling too late.

Amy, smiling, stared in the
direction her sister had made her escape, and then turned to walk further down
the path, bumping into
Mr
. Benjamin Anstruther who was evidently paying
a visit to Sibbridge House.

“Oh...Hello,” said Amy weakly as
Mr
.
Anstruther looked at her with his left eyebrow cocked and a downright
mischievous grin on his face.