Timeless Regency Collection: A Country Christmas Part 13

"I'm going walking, too," she announced and had not the courage to look at her sister.

"We're taking Master Six to our favorite view of the moors," Gerald announced.

She walked beside the sailing master, pleased when he twined his fingers through hers. When she told him she was leaving for Portsmouth in the morning to speak to her Uncle Bonfort, he tightened his grip.

"Do this: ask your uncle if he knows anything about Trinity House."

"I don't even know what that is," she said, then had the good sense to smile at herself. "Master Six, there is far too much you will tell me that I will not have a clue about."

"Less than you think, Miss Bonfort," he said. "Trinity House manages all lighthouses in our realm and teaches navigation to seamen, among other things." He held up their twined hands while the boys skipped ahead. "My background will never open that particular door for me, although I wish it could. Maybe in another age." He kissed her fingers. "I have heard rumors that Trinity House also runs a school somewhere for the children of dead seamen. These are children with nothing in their favor-my kind of children."

Suddenly, the day didn't seem so gloomy. "I can ask my uncle about that. Tell me, where does your Captain Hallowell live?"

"In Portsmouth. I have his direction."

"Send him a letter this afternoon and tell him I am coming to see him, too. Can he help us?"

"Flash your beautiful smile at him, Meridee. Bat your eyes, tell him you've elected yourself my keeper."

She stopped and put her hands on his shoulders. "This is the world's strangest courts.h.i.+p, you realize."

"It's going to get stranger. If you are really lucky and if the sun is s.h.i.+ning when you return, I'll show you and your nephews how to use a s.e.xtant."

Chapter Eleven.

In this and so many other ways, Amanda Ripley was right. Meridee had no difficulty negotiating the mail coach from Plymouth to Portsmouth.

Able insisted on coming along with her brother-in-law to Plymouth as they took the modest family carriage to the inn where the mail coach waited. Since her nephews refused to be left behind, too, she watched Able go over fractions during the ten-mile drive. She saw Gerald's eyes light up when he got a correct answer and delighted in the way Gerald's father beamed at this slightly slower son of his, who was being brought along so patiently by a master teacher.

Holding tight to Able's hand, she decided on the drive that although his full name might be Durable, it could just as easily have been Capable or Reliable or Estimable. At times, if their lives were allowed to intertwine, she imagined Able Six also being Unfathomable but not Inflexible.

The sailing master touched her heart by his determination to see her well-seated on the mail coach. "When you get to Portsmouth, speak for one of the jarveys about the inn to drive you to your uncle's house." He leaned closer, reluctant to be overheard. "If nothing happens, then nothing happens, and I will go to sea again when war returns. We may have to wait a while."

She knew he was right. She tried not to cry, but she felt the heaviness of tears in back of her eyelids. She willed the pesky things to remain in place and not slide down her cheeks. She was nearly successful. He patted her hand, unable to speak himself, then closed the door.

Meridee leaned back and found herself looking into other kindly eyes belonging to a woman long in years.

"Dearie, he's a handsome one," the woman said.

Meridee smiled through her tears. "Yes, he is."

"Where did you find him?"

"He came to teach my nephews," she replied, wondering about conversations on the mail coach. She could be silent and say nothing more because she was a lady of quality. She could also chat and find out about the ordinary folk who were probably going to be more a part of her life than people of quality, if she was lucky enough to marry Able Six.

She decided to chat, and the time pa.s.sed quickly, with brief stops in Exeter, Dorcester, Bournemouth, and Southampton to change horses. The woman bid her good evening in Southampton and wished her luck with her handsome sailing master.

Night came early. Meridee was content to sit in the gathering dusk and think about what lay ahead as the coach made the final distance to Portsmouth. Able had tucked a letter for Captain Hallowell into her hand. She took it out of her reticule and nearly read it because he said she could. She didn't; she felt too shy to read a missive between two men, neither a relative.

There was so much she did not know about men or the sea, or any part of Able's hard world. Living as she did in the country, and certainly not permitted to read a newspaper because she was a woman, war had always been something vexatious but remote. As the coach bowled into Portsmouth, that Royal Navy base far larger than Plymouth, she stared at s.h.i.+p after s.h.i.+p at the numerous docks, each wars.h.i.+p capable of carrying husbands and fathers and sons to death and destruction, all because a Corsican upstart thought he should rule the world.

"We are hinged, wooden creatures in the hands of a puppeteer who makes us dance to his tune," she whispered softly into the gla.s.s, fogging it over. "We must do as he dictates."

So it was that Meridee Bonfort, a woman now most serious, left behind her youth and childhood in the mail coach and knocked on her Uncle Bonfort's door, determined to do her best to help one hinged, wooden creature. Two, actually.

After the usual pleasantries over dinner-answers to queries about Amanda's family and the news of her other sisters-Meridee spent another hour in her uncle's book room, where the talk turned serious. She told Uncle Bonfort about Sailing Master Able Six, his peculiar genius, and his unmatched ability to teach. He chuckled over the Christmas angles Gerald and James had drawn especially for him. The angels' wings now included the proper degrees for each angle drawn small, which made Uncle Bonfort nod and comment, "Scrupulous about his angles is your lad, Meri."

Finally, he folded his hands on his desk and asked, "What is it that I can do for this interesting young man of yours?"

"Use your influence within the Royal Navy to find him a place to teach," she said promptly. "He mentioned Trinity House."

"Alas, that august group of Elder Brothers is not directly affiliated with the Royal Navy, where I do own some influence," her uncle said with considerable regret in his eyes and his tone of voice. He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across a well-fed paunch. "I do know one or two of the Brothers. I'll send a note 'round first thing. Will that do?"

"It will help," Meridee said. "Master Six is a good man with no patronage or influence whatsoever."

She knew the interview was over when her uncle began to speak with fondness about her late father. He then expressed some regret that he could not have done more for her and her sisters. "War times are hard times," he said, as he ushered her from his book room and handed her off to his housekeeper, then closed the door.

She tried not to cry once she was alone, but she couldn't help herself. Uncle Bonfort was polite and kind, but that was all. She suspected he thought Able Six unsuitable as a husband and probably would not write any such letters.

Sad beyond belief, she dutifully knelt beside her bed, offering her whole heart to the Lord, even if He might not approve of Master Six, either. Finally, there weren't any words, only a silent plea to the Almighty that if some path could be smoothed for an extraordinary man, she would be a willing, loving, and efficient keeper.

She breakfasted with Uncle Bonfort, delighted when he showed her the letters he had written to two men known as Elder Brothers, who lived in London and worked for Trinity House, doing what, she did not know. She thanked him prettily.

He was kind enough to let her take his coach around to 63 Water Street, the address of Captain Hallowell, he of the White Fleet who was also cast ash.o.r.e on half pay, hardly an onerous situation, in his case.

"Hang it, I'll accompany you myself," Uncle Bonfort told her as he was about to close the door and send her on her solitary way. "Move over, Meridee. Let's go see a captain of the Royal Navy."

The drive was a short one, to her dismay, because Meridee Bonfort did not know what to say to Able's captain of the Swiftsure, who had lost his s.h.i.+p and also served some time in that French prison before he was repatriated. She looked out the window at the bustle of Portsmouth, noisy even with the Peace of Amiens in force. She was far removed from her small world in the countryside and felt it acutely.

She and Uncle Bonfort arrived at the grand home at 63 Water Street of Captain Benjamin Hallowell, Ma.s.sachusetts born and bred, but a victim of the American Revolution. Able had told her that much and more of his captain's audacious courage at the Battle of the Nile, which had earned him a place in Rear Admiral Sir Horatio Nelson's aptly named Band of Brothers.

"Does this man have any influence?" she asked her Uncle Bonfort as they stood together on the front steps.

"Possibly a great deal of influence," he replied, then nodded to the footman who opened the door. "I am Aloysius Bonfort, quartermaster of victualling in Portsmouth Harbor," he said. "We would speak with Captain Hallowell. My card."

Chapter Twelve.

The footman, a supercilious tadpole, made them stand there a moment longer than necessary, which was sufficient time for Meridee's heart to plunge into her stomach, teeter there, and descend to her toes. Dear me, we cannot even command the respect of a footman, she thought.

Now or never. "And I am Miss Meridee Bonfort, lately from the country," she said, then felt like an idiot.

The footman's lips twitched at that, but he let them in and left them standing in the foyer, to the amus.e.m.e.nt of Meridee's uncle.

"He didn't even show us to the drawing room. What a pup," he whispered. "He is toying with the man who victuals s.h.i.+ps of the fleet and a young lady who probably has more influence than I do."

"I doubt that supremely," she whispered back, then gulped as a much-chastened footman returned, followed immediately by Captain Hallowell himself.

She found herself looking at a balding man with a long, sharp nose, intense eyes, and an expression announcing that the man had never suffered a fool gladly in his entire life. She swallowed and looked again, noticing that his eyes were on her now, and that expression softened. Oh, please, she thought. Please help us.

The captain bowed to her, and she curtsied as prettily as she could. He bowed next to Uncle Bonfort, then extended his hand.

"Kindly excuse the poor manners of my footman," Captain Hallowell said. "He's new and doesn't know what distinguished guests are, apparently." A frosty look at the footman made the man wilt before Meridee's eyes. "He will improve, or by the mark, I will impress him. Come with me."

Terrified and determined not to show it, Meridee grabbed her uncle's hand and hung on as they walked past a drawing room and into a room with a desk and comfortable chairs. Ignoring the desk, Captain Hallowell seated them in the chairs and joined them in front of the desk.

He was not a man for small talk. He reached behind him and picked up a letter. "Miss Bonfort, I received a letter early this morning from my sailing master, Able Six. For Master Six, it is a remarkably jumbled letter. If I didn't know better, I would suspect he has taken leave of his senses." He leaned forward and smiled. "But I know better, my dear."

Meridee felt herself relaxing. She willed her hands to stop shaking and pulled the note from her reticule that Able had handed to her only yesterday. "He wanted me to give this to you, sir."

He took it, opened it, laughed quietly, and handed it to her. "Read it, my dear. Read it aloud."

She took it, read it, blushed, and shook her head.

"No, no, I insist," the captain said, his expression suggesting huge enjoyment.

Meridee glanced at her uncle, who nodded. "Do what the good captain says, niece."

She cleared her throat. "'Dear Captain Hallowell,'" she began, in a voice not sounding remotely like the one ordinarily possessing her body. "'Here is my keeper. She is lovely and kind and intelligent. Please help us. I know of no one else who can. Yours sincerely, Able Six.' Sir, I . . ."

"In a moment, my dear." He held up his hand and spoke to Uncle Bonfort. "I am delighted to make your acquaintance, sir, and can only echo the praise of other captains who appreciate the orderly way you run the victualling department. Between the two of us, what say you that we help this couple?"

Uncle Bonfort nodded. "Whatever I can do, sir. I must ask: why? Why would you help a good sailing master out of his position?"

"He is the single most brilliant man I have ever met in my life, but that counts for nothing, really," Hallowell replied. "He did me a singular service for which I can never totally repay him." He tapped Able's letter. "He has never asked me for a favor before."

Singular service? "I don't quite understand," she said.

"He's a sly one, is Master Six," Captain Hallowell said. "Did he mention my presence in the sick bay of the HMS Captain during the Battle of Cape St. Vincent?"

"He did," Meridee replied, on unsure ground.

"Well, we weren't even in the sick bay. That spot took a direct hit and the surgeon died. We were in the stairwell of the orlop deck, dead and dying men all around."

Meridee nodded. "He said you were there."

"That's all? I am hardly surprised," the captain said. "For all his astounding intelligence, I think part of Durable Six is still that little boy in the Dumfries workhouse, unsure of himself and unable to comprehend what was happening to him." He leaned forward and gave Meridee a direct, searching look. "Which is why he needs a keeper."

She blushed some more. "What happened in the stairwell?" she asked.

Captain Hallowell directed his attention to Uncle Bonfort, who looked puzzled. "Able Six was a loblolly boy then, hardly an exalted position. After the surgeon died and the pharmacist mate seemed too paralyzed to act, Able rolled up his sleeves and calmly took over."

"Impossible!" Uncle Bonfort sputtered.

"In an ordinary man, I would agree. Able Six is not an ordinary man," Hallowell said. He turned his attention to Meridee again. "What he did was save my son's life."

"He would do that," she said softly. "He never told me."

"Cape St. Vincent was my son Charles's first voyage as a Young Gentleman. His leg was mangled by a chain shot fired from the San Nicols. Able removed that portion of his leg below the knee as calmly as if he had done thousands of such amputations. My son is alive today and still active in the fleet, thanks to your man. What is it I can do for him? Just name it."

"Wait a minute!" Uncle Bonfort demanded. "He amputated a leg?"

"Several, in fact," Captain Hallowell said calmly. "The man is a prodigy. He sees something once or reads it once, and he never forgets. Never."

Uncle Bonfort gave Meridee his own chastened look. "You told me all this last night, and I did not believe you, my dear."

"It is hard to believe," she agreed.

"Come, come! Time is wasting! How can I help my sailing master?"

"He has an amazing facility to teach young children," Meridee said quickly. "He has been tutoring my nephews, one of whom is slow, where his younger brother is quick. Gerald loves arithmetic now, and James is still enthusiastic, because Able-I mean, Master Six-brings him along quicker without injuring Gerald's feelings."

"He would appreciate the worth of a little boy, I imagine," Captain Hallowell said, more to himself than to her, or so it seemed. "How can I help?"

"Captain, can you possibly find him a place to teach math and geometry and navigational reckoning to young students?" she asked.

Captain Hallowell rose and went to the window, where he stood a moment, hands behind his back, rocking on his heels. Meridee's heart, which had been slowly climbing back up to its rightful position, took another dive.

"Please, Captain," she whispered. "Please."

"I need him more than you do," Captain Hallowell said, still not facing her.

"No, you don't," Meridee declared, tossing away a lifetime of quietly doing the bidding of others. It was her turn. She went to the window, too, taking the august man's arm and tugging him around to face her. She gathered all her courage together and shook him. "You couldn't possibly need him more."

"My dear, we will soon be at war again," Captain Hallowell said gently as he took her hand from his sleeve. "Why would I willingly relinquish the services of the finest sailing master the Royal Navy will probably ever see?"

"Because you owe your son's life to him, and he has begged a favor," she said, her voice controlled and quiet. Shouting at this man would never do.

"My dear, what you ask is impossible," the captain replied. "I should never have said I would do anything for him, because I cannot. Duty forbids it."

What could she do but admit failure? The room was silent except for a ticking clock. She looked at Uncle Bonfort and saw sympathy on his face. She looked at Captain Hallowell and saw the same. All she wanted to do was go back to the country where she could continue hiding from the world. She would wither and die there because there was a man in the world who needed her and she could not help him.

"I believe I will leave now," she said. "I have squandered everyone's valuable time."