“
Edward, this is a surprise,” Jeannie said. “I was just
preparing to go upstairs.”
Edward looked
doubtfully at his uncle, who glared at him and then sat down at the
table again.
“
You
and I need to have a talk,” the captain said, his voice all
business.
Edward paled noticeably
and Jeannie found herself moving closer, standing slightly in front
of him. She stared back at the captain and then turned her
attention to the boy.
She could see in the
daylight that he bore a slight resemblance to his uncle, although
he was thin where Summers was not. His arms dangled out of the ends
of his sleeves, and Jeannie knew that, although he was small now,
he would be as tall as Captain Summers someday. There was a
sweetness of expression about him that owed nothing to his
relative, she decided. The sweetness ended before his eyes, which
regarded her with disconcerting desperation.
“
May I
sit down?” he asked.
Captain Summers nodded
and poured himself another cup of coffee.
Jeannie sat down next
to him. Without a word, he opened the book and placed it before her
on the table. The guide was open to the Grand Cascade. Jeannie
leaned closer. Edward had written in the margin, “Truly a
magnificent display. I shall remember it forever,” and then
initialed and dated it.
“
And I
will, too, Mrs. McVinnie,” he said quietly as she looked at
him.
Captain Summers cleared
his throat.
Jeannie pointedly
turned her shoulder toward him and looked on as Edward riffled
through the pages and spread out the section on the Tower of
London.
“
I
would like most of all to go there,” he said, “but Aunt says there
are too many stairs to climb, and rude crowds, and the fog from the
river.” He frowned down at the book and then appealed to Jeannie.
“But I could do it. I know I could! I didn’t used to think so, but
I feel different this morning.” His tone was earnest. “Mrs.
McVinnie, we could see it together.”
“
I
think it is a capital notion,” Captain Summers said, throwing in
his mite. “You could tour the whole of London and drag along that
silly widgeon of a niece of mine.”
Edward looked at her
hopefully.
Jeannie avoided his
gaze and closed the book. “I’m sorry, Edward, but I must go, and
soon, too!”
Without a word, he
repossessed the guidebook and went to the door without a backward
glance at her.
“
Edward, I—”
The door flung open
again and Captain Summers groaned and slapped his forehead. “There
was a time when a man could have a cup of coffee in peace,” he
shouted. “I remember it distinctly.”
Clare entered the room
on a gallop, ran behind the open door, and flattened herself
against the wall. When the captain shouted, she clapped her hands
over her ears and burst into tears.
“
Belay
that,” he roared in his best quarterdeck voice.
Before he could say
anything more, the nursemaid threw herself into the room, bobbed a
quick curtsy at the captain, and reached behind the door for Clare,
who sobbed louder.
“
Oh,
no, please,” Jeannie said.
The nursemaid ignored
her and grabbed for Clare, who darted away and crawled under the
breakfast table.
Jeannie leapt to her
feet, eyes blazing, and stood in front of the table. “No,” was all
Jeannie said as she pulled herself up as tall as she could and
raised her chin. Her voice was quiet, calm even, but the nursemaid
backed away.
“
I
have my orders, ma’am,” she said when she had recovered
sufficiently.
“
I am
sure that your orders do not include frightening a child. Go now. I
will take Clare upstairs when she has calmed down. ”
The nursemaid looked at
the captain. Jeannie could not see him from where she stood, but
the sudden draining of color from the nursemaid’s face gave her
every suspicion that Captain Summers was not suffering this fool
gladly. She backed out of the room and vanished.
Jeannie knelt down and
pulled back the tablecloth. “Come on, Clare.”
The child crawled out
from under the table. Jeannie picked her up and set her on her lap.
She wiped her face with a napkin and then commanded her to blow her
nose. Clare did as she said and then turned her face against
Jeannie so she would not have to look at the captain, who still
glowered.
Jeannie rested her chin
on the top of Clare’s head. “Sit down, Captain,” she said in that
same, still voice. “You’re frightening her.”
He sat down again. In
another moment, the anger was gone from his face. “I do need you
here, Mrs. McVinnie. You can see that.”
“
Then
you are doomed to disappointment,” Jeannie replied quietly as she
stroked Clare’s hair. “We would never suit.”
If he was disappointed,
he did not show it. Summers watched her in silence for a moment
more. “Very well,” he said finally.
She held out her hand
and he shook it. “As soon as I return home, I will reimburse you
for your coach fare,” she said.
“
Not
necessary,” said the captain. “Merely the fortunes of war,
ma’am.”
Jeannie could afford to
be generous. “Then I will donate the money to the widows’ and
orphans’ fund, sir.”
He rose to his feet and
bowed. “As you wish, Mrs. McVinnie, but I stand behind my original
estimation that a Jeannie McVinnie—any Jeannie McVinnie—is the only
person who can bring a little order to this household.” He rubbed
his head. “Although I must admit that all we have succeeded with so
far is turmoil and chaos.”
Jeannie set Clare on
her feet and took her by the hand. “Truly, sir, we could not have
made this work. I would only get your back up. And I am not sure I
could ever do your bidding, if I didn’t happen to agree with your
methods. And I do not. You cannot compel me, sir.”
He made no comment, but
only regarded her until she began to feel distinctly uncomfortable.
Her agitation increased when she realized that he was deep in
thought and scarcely minding her presence at all.
“
Sir?”
she ventured.
Her word recalled him
to the present. He bowed again, and when he rose to look her in the
eye again, she saw that he was smiling.
“
Very
well, Mrs. McVinnie. Wapping will engage a hackney to return you to
the Bull and Hind. Your servant.”
He left the room with
the dignity of an admiral quitting the deck of his flagship, but as
she followed him into the hall a few moments later, she heard
someone taking the stairs two at a time and shouting for Pringle in
a voice that demanded instant obedience. Jeannie shook her head and
tightened her grip on Clare. Such a curious man. Such a strange
household.
Her dress, brushed and
pressed, was lying across her bed. Both bags were packed again.
Clare looked from her to the bags and back again and went out of
the room without a sound.
“
Oh,
dear,” Jeannie said. She peered into the hall and watched as Clare
slowly walked to her own room, her feet dragging, her shoulders
drooping. “Well, it would never have worked,” Jeannie said to the
mirror as she reached around to unbutton her dress. “And you know
it, Jeannie McVinnie.”
As she struggled with
the buttons, she heard the sound of footsteps outside the door.
“Oh, Edward,” she sighed under her breath, “I cannot go with you to
the Tower of London.”
If it was Edward, he
made no move to knock. Jeannie heard the sound of heels clicking
together. Mystified, she tiptoed to the door and put her ear to
it.
The shrill blast of a
boatswain’s pipe made her leap back in fright. She put her hands to
her ears, but the piercing sound continued, enlarging upon the
simple call with toots and flourishes. Jeannie opened the door and
peered into the hall.
Pringle stood by her
door, whistle in his mouth. She stared at him, her eyes wide, her
lips parted in surprise. He was dressed in uniform, in the white
canvas pants and blue coat of the Royal Navy.
Another door opened and
Edward came into the hall.
Jeannie motioned to him
and he soon stood beside her. “What is going on?” she whispered.
“Why is he in uniform?”
Edward shook his head
in disbelief. “If he does not stop soon, Larinda and my aunt will
be awake.” He took another step until he was right next to Jeannie.
“I would never dare!”
Another blast of the
whistle sent Clare tumbling out of her room and scrambling to
Jeannie’s side. Pringle clicked his heels together, turned smartly,
and marched down the hall until he was directly opposite Lady
Smeath’s closed door.
Edward sucked in his
breath. “That is as much as my life is worth.” He tugged on
Jeannie’s sleeve. “Can he have taken leave of his senses?”
“
I
think not, Edward,” she replied.
Pringle clicked his
heels together again, raised the whistle to his lips again, and
began to blow.
Jeannie recognized the
longs and shorts he had blasted outside her door. She nudged
Edward. “What is he playing?”
The boy concentrated on
the tune, his brows together, his tongue between his teeth. “I
believe it is … it couldn’t be,” he ventured, “but I think it
is ‘To quarters.’ ”
“
Whatever is that, Edward? Do you know?”
“
It is
what they blow when the captain wishes to assemble all hands on
deck in their assigned posts. Before battle, you know.” He looked
up at Jeannie and she heard the edge of pride in his voice. “You
see, Pringle has been teaching me. I am sure that is it. Oh, look
out now,” he whispered suddenly.
Lady Smeath hurled
herself from her room, her face as white as the robe she had cast
about her shoulders. Her nightcap was twisted around her face until
it looked like a horse’s feedbag.
Jeannie picked up Clare
and pressed her face into the child’s curls. “Dear me,” she said
weakly as Edward choked and sputtered and his aunt glared at
him.
Pringle marched a few
paces beyond Lady Smeath’s door and took another deep breath. The
ear-splitting urgency of “To quarters” trilled outside Larinda’s
door, which opened slowly. Larinda blinked several times, drew
herself up, and stamped her foot.
Eyes straight ahead,
Pringle ignored her. With another flourish and much clicking of
heels and marching worthy of the guards in front of the Admiralty
House, he took himself to the head of the stairs. He bowed. “My
ladies, Edward, Mrs. McVinnie,” he said, “you are wanted
belowdecks.”
Everyone stared at
him.
“
In
the blue saloon.”
No one moved.
By now Aunt Agatha had
managed to swing her nightcap up until it covered one ear. “Have
you taken total and complete leave of your senses?”
Pringle regarded her
impassively. “I am following my orders, my lady,” he said, and
raised the whistle to his mouth again.
“
No!
No,” insisted Lady Smeath. “I will go. Come, Larinda, give me your
arm or I shall faint.” She stormed past Pringle, who stood at rigid
attention, pipe to his mouth. “And you will wish you had never been
born,” she hissed over her shoulder. “And neither will that
wretched brother of mine.”
Pringle made no
comment, but lowered his pipe, eyes forward. When the two women had
descended the stairs, he looked at Edward and Jeannie, who stood
close together, shoulders touching.
“
I
think we had better do as he says,” Edward suggested.
Still carrying Clare,
Jeannie followed Edward down the stairs and into the blue saloon.
Her heart pounded as she contemplated a bolt up the stairs again.
She could have her bags in hand and be out the door before anyone
had time to react. She would sacrifice the traveling dress that
still lay spread across the bed. She had never liked it above half,
anyway. She could snatch up her cloak on the way out and hail a
hackney herself.
But Pringle stood by
the doorway at the front of the stairs now. She abandoned her
escape plans and meekly followed Edward into the saloon, noting as
she did so that all the servants were gathering in the hallway,
some at least pretending to have some business there and others
just gaping, eyes wide, mouths open.
Lady Smeath smoldered
on the sofa, Larinda beside her, speechless with rage. Edward
perched on the edge of an armchair, looking absurdly small. Jeannie
sat down, Clare on her lap.
Lady Smeath noticed her
presence for the first time. “You!” she rose to her feet, swaying
slightly and gripping her niece’s shoulder. “I had thought you long
gone. Can you imagine the trouble you have caused me with the most
sought-after modiste in London? If I am the laughingstock of
London—and mark my words, Madame Coutant will talk—I have only to
lay it at your door.”
Jeannie regarded her in
silence a moment until the woman sat down again. “Madam, you cannot
wish me gone from this house any more than I wish myself
elsewhere.”
Lady Smeath opened and
closed her mouth several times, and then subsided into a cold fury
that was almost palpable. The silence was stupendous. Pringle
continued to stand at rigid attention. In another moment he raised
the pipe to his lips again.
It was a different tune
this time. Jeannie directed an inquiring look at Edward, who only
shrugged. When Pringle finished, he snapped a salute and held it,
eyes ahead.
Captain Summers stood
in the doorway, dressed in the uniform Jeannie remembered from last
night, complete with medals, his star, and red ribbon. His coat was
without a wrinkle anywhere, his white pants and stockings were of a
whiteness that ordinary mortals could only dream of. The gleam of
the gold buckles on his shoes was matched and amplified by the gold
and lace of his entire uniform. From the epaulettes that weighted
his shoulders to the sword at his side, Captain Sir William Summers
was a marvel to behold.