Home Is the Sailor (17 page)

“If it would please you, certainly,” Will said. “But I would be just as happy to retire for the evening.”

“A pretty family gathering I have invited you to witness!” Davy’s face was as downcast as Will had ever seen it.

“I do believe Lady Virginia might be a little unbalanced in her grief,” he answered, “but your brother was deliberately baiting her. I like your sister Amelia very well, she is so much like you. And your other sisters are doing their best in very trying circumstances. This situation cannot be easy for any of your family.”

“Except for Ronald,” Davy said bitterly. “He relishes it. Will, if you would rather not endure this wrangle, I would not be offended if you were to go to an inn, or back to Tavistock, or even to Kit’s place in London. I hate to inflict this upon you.”

It was good that they had been constrained in expressing their affection by years on a ship, where there was virtually no privacy. The practice of self-control was almost instinctive, in both speech and action. “Of course I’ll go, if you wish it. But only if you truly want me to—if you would prefer to be private with your family.”
 

“You are closer than family.” Davy rubbed his hands over his face. “God, Will, without you, I’d be lost.”

Will wanted very badly to touch him, but knew that he would be lost if he did. Of all times and places, this was one where Davy needed him to be strong. Perhaps, after the house was quiet, they might steal a few moments together in the dressing room. “Then I’ll stay. No distempered in-laws will make me haul down my colors.”

Davy gave him a weary, lopsided smile. “Let’s go upstairs.”

The fire was small but comforting, and they lingered before it until the maid had come to run the warming-pans between the sheets. They put out their candles, changed into nightshirts, and retreated to the sanctuary of the dressing room.

They hardly spoke. There was nothing to say, really, and it was safer to keep quiet, alert for any sound out in the hall. But even without the pleasure of sex, there was an inexpressible comfort in holding Davy against him, feeling the warmth of his body through the two thin layers of nightclothes. If only they had been two half-pay sailors, forced by necessity to share a bed...but at least they did have this place to be together, for a little while.

And for how much longer? Matters here would come to a crisis; that must happen. And matters in the larger world were moving toward that, too. At some point, a few weeks or a few months, the war would explode again and he would be called away.

Could he go?

He remembered what life had been like, in those weeks while Davy was lying convalescent in Kingston. He’d been a splendid officer then, daring beyond all reason. It was easy to risk your life when you truly did not care if you ever saw another sunrise. If Davy had died, he would been not only indifferent to death, but actively seeking it. There were worse ways to die than going out in a blaze of glory.

But not now, not while he had something so precious here in his arms. He held Davy close, reveling in the warmth of him. If only they could…

Davy raised his face from Will’s shoulder, and brushed his lips against Will’s. “Don’t mean to tease,” he said softly.

“I know.”

A kiss was all they dared. For now, it was enough.

Chapter Nine

The next day brought a small surprise; the Vicar came to call, and David Archer was made to feel his age. He blinked when “Reverend Newkirk” was announced at the door of the drawing room, where he and Will were idly conversing with Amelia and Jane. He looked at the Reverend, and looked again. “Peter Newkirk! Is that you?”

“Archer! Yes, I had heard you were visiting, of course.” He paid his respects to the ladies, then said, “How have you been, my dear fellow?”

“Well enough. And may I present Captain Marshall, my friend and shipmate? Will, this is my distant cousin Peter Newkirk—one-time chief instigator of mischief when we were schoolboys—he was a year ahead of me—and now Vicar. How he managed it, I shall never know.”

As Newkirk and Will shook hands, the Vicar said, “A love of Latin was the start of it, Archer. As to the position, the Earl kindly gave me the living after my predecessor went to his reward. I’m undeserving, of course, but I have been assured by my teachers that a little sin in one’s youth is indispensable for a man of the cloth, as a man who has never sinned has no true understanding of human frailty.”

“A sensible philosophy, sir,” Will said. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“What brings you here today?” David asked.

“Your brother’s widow wished to speak to me,” Newkirk said. “If I can be of any comfort to her, I shall be most happy to oblige.”

“Thank you so much for coming,” Amelia said, joining them. “I can take you up to her now, if you wish.”

“Yes, thank you.”

He followed her out, but Amelia was back, alone, in only a few minutes. “Davy, would you come with me, please?”

“Of course,” he said, following her out to the hall. “What is it?”

“Virginia’s back on her hobby-horse again,” his sister said grimly. “She’s telling the poor Vicar that he must order Ronald to confess and repent and if Ronald refuses, his guilt should be denounced from the pulpit. I don’t think Peter has ever run into this sort of crisis before, poor man. He looks quite distraught.”

“It didn’t take her long,” David said as they hurried up the stairs.

“No, I think she must have been fretting over this all night. She asked Father to send for the Vicar first thing this morning.”

“Where is Father?”

“Closeted with Ronald, the estate books, and Thomas Legge. I should prefer not to interrupt them unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“If for no other reason than to deny Ronald the pleasure of knowing he goaded Virginia into creating another scene.”

“Yes, exactly. I sent her maid out to fetch some tea as soon as she started carrying on, but the Lord only knows what she may have been saying before I arrived.”

That was all the family needed—rumor of murder among the servants. “I don’t imagine there’s much chance of stopping the gossip now, after that outburst at dinner. But I’ll do what I can.”

“If you go back downstairs before I do, please ask Jane to look in on Genie and see if she is feeling any better.”
 

“And not listening at the keyhole?”

“I hope not—and I hope this racket does not carry into Mother’s room!”

He could hear his sister-in-law’s voice raised even before Amelia opened the door, but the diatribe paused for a moment when he entered the hot, stuffy room. Propped up in bed with a coverlet smoothed across her mountainous figure, Virginia pinned him with a glance. “David! You know what has happened here.
You
know!” Her face was flushed and damp; the force of her anger and frustration hit him like a cannon recoil. “Tell this man he
must
be the instrument of God’s truth and God’s vengeance!”

“Yes, certainly I will,” David said, keeping his voice even. “But really, Virginia, you yourself must keep calm for the baby’s sake. I can tell Reverend Newkirk all about it downstairs, so you will not be further distressed.”

She sighed, falling back against the pillows. “You are a true brother. You and your friend will have to take my part—”

He could not let her start on that again. “Yes, we’ll deal with everything,” he said. “Did you wish to pray with the Vicar, before he goes?”

“Praying is useless,” she said, starting up again. “
Useless!
I have prayed myself hoarse. Now is the time for action!”

“Yes, of course. Rest assured I shall do everything necessary.” He glanced at Peter and nodded toward the door, which popped open to admit a flustered maid carrying a tea tray.

After assuring Virginia that he would pray over the matter, poor Newkirk took a hasty leave. “Thank you for coming, sir,” Amelia said at the doorway. “I will stay with her for a little while. I believe the doctor left a cordial for her to drink.”

“She needs something stronger than a cordial!” Newkirk declared once the door was closed. “Archer, I conducted your brother’s funeral and condoled with your parents, but the Lady Virginia was prostrate and I had no speech with her until today. Is there—
could
there be—any truth to that outrageous claim?”

David was unable to answer. The mirror that had just been held up to him showed a very disturbing image; he wondered if his own suspicions sounded as insane as Virginia’s accusations. This was no time to speak of them, at any rate. “I don’t see how there could be,” he said carefully. “The coroner ruled my brother’s death accidental, and to the best of our knowledge, Ronald was in London at the time.”

“She said that your brother Ronald gave her reason to believe that he had been here in secret—that he had indeed killed Lord Mark. Has he said anything of the sort to anyone else? Do you—” He broke off as another maid came down the hall with a tea tray, and disappeared into the Countess’ chambers.

“I know nothing of that, but Lady Virginia did not become agitated until Ronald returned a few days ago. My father has said that he was in London, and so we all believe. I do think Ronald was always envious of Mark’s position, and Virginia was aware of his feelings, but envy is not uncommon in a younger son—and while envy might be a powerful motive, murder is hardly inevitable.”

Newkirk nodded. “And yet jealousy so often leads to violence. I shall be glad when I’ve added a few years to my own understanding. I must speak with the Earl, but his own experience is so far beyond my own…”

“I agree, you should see him, but my father is closeted with my brother and our man of business at the moment; I would rather not interrupt them unless you are in a hurry. As to your experience—you’ll add the years soon enough, and I know you have the advantage of my father when it comes to theology. He must surely agree with you that Virginia’s behavior is outside the bounds of reason. Would you care for tea and some refreshments? I think Mr. Legge will be leaving fairly soon. And in the meantime, perhaps we had better send for the doctor.”

“I agree. Such agitation cannot be good for either Lady Virginia or her child.”

David deposited Newkirk in the drawing room and drew Jane aside to convey Amelia’s message. She volunteered to send a servant off for tea and cakes, and David saw to it that a messenger was sent to find the doctor. By the time Dr. Fiske arrived, the tea had been consumed, the business meeting adjourned, and Mr. Legge was taking his departure. Ronald, thankfully, made himself scarce—where he went, David neither knew nor cared.

While Amelia escorted the doctor up to Virginia’s room, David took Newkirk to see the Earl, then rejoined Will in the drawing room, where his friend was alone, ensconced in one of a pair of wing-chairs and perusing an old edition of the
Naval Gazette
.

“I don’t believe I’ve seen so much bustle here since we arrived,” Will said. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

David dropped into the other chair. “Not unless you can persuade my sister-in-law that her cause is
not
best served by accusing Ronald of fratricide, at the top of her lungs, to anyone who will listen.”

“Oh, dear.”

“You have a gift for understatement,” David said wryly. “It was Newkirk’s suggestion that we call Dr. Fiske, and I only hope he has some sort of medicine to help settle her nerves. I’d best stay on hand in case of further alarms, but if you’d like to retreat to your room I wouldn’t blame you. I’ll join you there as soon as the dust settles.”

“And leave you in the lurch?”

“There’s no telling what mood my father will be in after Newkirk talks to him, and there’s still the doctor’s report after that. Father can growl at me if he likes.” He shrugged. “My father is accustomed to order in his household. He has little tolerance of irregular behavior and histrionics, still less in the presence of a guest.”

“I’ll get out from underfoot, then. But do let me know if you need me.”

David smiled wearily. “Always—but in reserve, for now.”

Will gave his arm a sympathetic squeeze and took his leave.

David was pleased to have the less onerous chore of thanking the Vicar and escorting him to the door while Amelia saw Dr. Fiske to the Earl’s study and stayed on hand for the doctor’s report. She was shooed away when Fiske was invited to stay for a drink, and joined her brother in the drawing room.

“What news?” David asked her. “And how are you bearing up?”

“Oh, I’ll do. Virginia seems to be well enough, physically. The doctor said she should be given chamomile tea and her forehead bathed with lavender water. He does not wish her given more laudanum than is already in her cordial, as he thinks it might not be good for the baby—he said he was averse to risking the child’s health just to keep the mother quiet. Father agreed.”

“Well, that makes sense, I suppose,” David said. “But it’s going to be lively around here until that child is born.”

“Perhaps not. Dr. Fiske did order Virginia to stay quietly in her room, and we are under no circumstances to allow Ronald anywhere near her.”

“Also sensible—whether or not he believes her accusations. The Vicar said something interesting, Lia. He said Virginia claimed that Ronald led her to believe he did kill Mark. Were you with them at the time?”