Mrs. McVinnie's London Season (28 page)

Jeannie shook her head.
“I will wait for a Scotsman, sir.”

“
Captain Bartley MacGregor?”

She made a thoughtful
face. “Perhaps it does bear consideration, and after all, he will
likely continue to propose on a regular basis.” She sat in
contemplation for a moment and then smiled. “I could certainly like
him a great deal. That would not be difficult. But botheration,
sir, I have vowed a mighty vow never to marry a military man
again.” She leaned forward. “You, sir, are evading the issue. I am
determined to find you a wife.”

The captain shuddered
elaborately and Jeannie laughed out loud. “Sir, you must do your
family duty!”

“
I
refuse to be impressed into matrimony,” he declared in firm tones.
“Do I not do enough duty for George Number Three? My dearest Mrs.
McVinnie, be fair. Weevily bread, saltwater showers,
mal de
mer
, and a wife? You jest.”

They had pulled up into
one street and the hackney slowed down.

“
Which
one, sir?” asked the jehu.

“
Let
us out here; we will walk the rest of the way,” the captain said.
“Come, come, Mrs. McVinnie. A walk will do us good.”

She took his hand as he
helped her from the carriage. He did not relinquish his hold on
her, even after he paid the coachman and set off at a spanking pace
down the middle of the deserted street. She hurried along beside
him, tugging at his hand until he slowed down.

“
See
here,” she said breathlessly, “I will not tease you further, Will.
But mark my words, sir, someday you will fall in love and
then …. Well, you’ll see,” she concluded vaguely.

“
My,
aren’t we articulate this evening,” he said, and tucked her arm in
his. “Here we are, flushed from your incredible triumph at the
theater, a triumph, I might add, that surely must rival Mr. Kean’s,
and all you can do is worry about me. I suggest that you devote
some thought to the barge-full of invitations that will be borne
your way on this morning’s tide.”

“
I
can’t imagine such a thing,” she said as he paused at the front
door for the key. “The Beau will have forgotten the entire incident
by now, surely.”

The door swung open as
the captain fished about in his pocket for the key. Wapping stood
before them in all his magnificence. “Sir William, we never lock
the door before all the inmates are inside,” he said in an injured
voice.

“
I can
assure you that the inmates are now accounted for, Wapping,” the
captain said. “I recommend that you go to bed.”

“
But,
sir, who is to see you upstairs? I cannot imagine where Pringle has
taken himself off.”

“
He’s
in his hammock, you old silly,” the captain said. “I told him not
to wait up for me. Now, good night.”

His jowls quivering
with indignation, Wapping locked the door behind them with a
decisive click, bowed, and left without another word.

“
I had
a cat like that on my last ship,” was Captain Summers’ comment as
Wapping left in furious dignity.

Jeannie turned on the
captain. “You are amazingly rude, sir.”

“
Yes,
aren’t I?” the captain agreed. “Madam, consider the results. I do
not wish people to hover about me. I deplore being loomed over, if
you will. Now, will you require any support in taking yourself
upstairs? If so, I will summon Wapping again.”

Jeannie giggled. “You
know I do not require such assistance.”

“
I
know all too well,” Summers murmured.

I wonder what he can
mean, thought Jeannie as she extended her hand, suddenly shy again.
“Thank you. Thank you for being such a friend tonight, Will.”

He took her hand and
bowed over it. “I already told you that I stand behind my crew.
Pleasant dreams, Mrs. McVinnie.”

She started up the
stairs and then turned around. “Captain, I should return your
necklace.”

He stood in the
half-light at the foot of the stairs, candle in his hand, looking
up at her, his expression oddly familiar. For the briefest second,
he reminded her of Tom, his face wreathed in shadows and taken up
with his own thoughts. She had the peculiar desire to hold out her
hand to the captain, knowing somewhere deep inside her body that he
would take it and follow her upstairs.

You are being utterly
ridiculous, Jeannie McVinnie, she scolded herself. Captain Summers
would do nothing of the kind. Her hand went instead to her
neck.

“
Your
necklace, sir?” she said again, wishing her voice did not sound so
breathless.

He shook his head. “No,
not now. I expect you might have occasion to wear that dress again.
It can wait, and besides, it looks better on you.”

“
Good
night, then, sir,” she said softly.

He kissed his fingers
to her and remained at the foot of the stairs.

Jeannie padded silently
down the hall, peeking in first at Clare, who slept with the towel
doll tight in her arm. Edward slept, too, a beatific expression on
his face. Jeannie glanced at the guidebook beside his bed, open to
the page on the Admiralty House. So that will be tomorrow’s
expedition, my dear, she thought. I hope I am equal to it.

She let herself into
her room, sighing with relief as she kicked off her shoes and threw
herself across the bed. She put the emerald up to her cheek,
enjoying the warm weight of it against her face. In another moment,
she held it up to the moonlight that came from the window, turning
it this way and that, but it was too dark to catch even a glimmer.
Her mind went blissfully blank of any thought save the need for
sleep and the urge to loosen her dress.

She was tugging at her
belt when someone knocked on the door. Jeannie rose reluctantly and
went to the door, her ear against the wood.

“
Please, Mrs. McVinnie.”

It was Larinda. Without
a word, Jeannie opened the door. Larinda, dressed in nightgown and
robe, came into the room. She shut the door behind her quietly and
sat on Jeannie’s bed.

Mystified, Jeannie
watched her a moment and then sat down beside her. Silently,
Larinda laid her head in Jeannie’s lap and closed her eyes.

Jeannie started in
surprise and then sat very still. When Larinda said nothing,
Jeannie tentatively pulled back the girl’s hair from her face and
rested the back of her hand against her cheek.

Still Larinda said
nothing, only rested her head in Jeannie’s lap like a tired child.
Jeannie began to stroke her hair and then to hum softly.

Gradually Larinda
relaxed. She did not open her eyes as Jeannie patted her
shoulder.

“
I am
so sorry,” she said at last, and Jeannie had to lean closer to
hear. “Please forgive me, forgive us.”

“
There
is nothing to forgive,” Jeannie replied, her voice soft.

Larinda sat up then,
but she would not look Jeannie in the eyes. “I fear I am as vulgar
as my aunt,” she said, with a catch in her voice that went straight
to Jeannie’s heart.

“
Oh,
my dear,” said Jeannie. “She only wanted what she thought best for
you.”

Once begun, Larinda did
not try to stop. “And here I was, so afraid that you would ruin my
credit. So afraid that the Beau would scoff and make fun of me
because of you, and it was the other way ’round, wasn’t it?”

Jeannie held Larinda’s
face in her hands. “As far as I can see, my dear, the matter is
closed. If I choose not to remember it, you cannot make me.”

Larinda cried then, and
Jeannie hugged her close, speaking softly. “After all, dear, I
practiced my own deception on this family by coming here, didn’t I?
I knew full well that I was certainly not the Jeannie McVinnie the
captain expected.”

Larinda pulled herself
away from Jeannie then and met her glance finally. “I am glad you
did come. Please overlook my folly, if you can.”

Jeannie drew Larinda
close again for another hug. “I have already told you it is
forgotten. Now, if you do not get to bed soon, you will have
dreadful bags under your eyes and you will look a haggard
twenty-four instead of a mere seventeen. Go along now.”

After another hug,
Jeannie walked Larinda to the door. Larinda gave her another glance
that said more than words could, and closed the door quietly behind
her.

Jeannie took off her
dress, and as it settled around her, she just stood there in the
middle of it. I am convinced that I have not the strength for
children of my own, she thought. Imagine if Clare were to wake up
and scream now, or if Edward were to throw out spots. She stepped
out of the dress and draped it carefully over a chair, hoping that
Mary would feel charitable in the morning and brush it out
properly. She took the necklace off and placed it on the table by
the bed.

There was another knock
at the door. Jeannie sighed, but did not budge from the bed where
she sat.

“
Oh,
who is it?” she finally said in a loud whisper.

“
Captain Summers, demanding your presence, and lively now,
lively.”

The gooseflesh rose on
her arms. How foolish I am to sit half-bare like this in a draft,
she thought as she rubbed her arms and wondered where the breeze
was coming from, since the windows were closed.

“
Not
now, Captain,” she said.

“
This
is not a suggestion, madam,” said the voice with the familiar hard
edge. “It is more in the way of a friendly command.”

“
Sir,
I—”

“
Surely you have a robe, Jeannie,” he said, anticipating her
objection. “Find it and move about handsomely now.”

“
I
know when I am being coerced,” she said pointedly.

“
Excellent, Jeannie. Step along lively now.”

“
Aye,
aye, sir,” she said at last, torn between amusement and
exasperation. “Could this not wait until morning?” she tried again
as she pulled on her robe and buttoned it high up the
front.

“
It
is
morning, madam,” he said. “According to my
watch.”

The captain stood in
the hallway in his stocking feet. He had removed his uniform coat
and he carried a dusty bottle in one hand, and two glasses.

Jeannie eyed him with
some suspicion, but if he even noticed, he did not call attention
to it.

“
I
daresay I never saw a more proper-looking robe,” he
commented.

“
I
daresay you never did,” she agreed, resisting the urge to either
laugh or box him about the ears. “And it is flannel,
too.”

“
I do
not doubt it, madam. Follow me, please. There is a trifling ritual
we must perform.”

“
I
must be crazy to do this,” she muttered as she followed him down
the dark stairway.

“
Madam, you were crazy to leave Scotland on such a harebrained
whim,” he said over his shoulder.

Jeannie could think of
no proper answer as she trailed him into the breakfast parlor. A
small lamp winked on the table, which had already been laid out for
breakfast.

“
Sit
down.”

She sat, curiosity
winning out over exasperation. Jeannie watched as he popped the
cork and little puffs of dust settled on the china place settings.
Jeannie laughed as he wiped the neck of the bottle on the
tablecloth, and wondered at Wapping’s distress in the morning.

“
Who
would have suspected my late, dim-witted, under-lamented brother to
have possessed such a treasure in his cellar?”

The captain poured a
small libation into one cup and tasted it, rolling the liquor
around in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. “Good Godfrey,
there is nothing closer to heaven than smuggler’s brandy.”

Jeannie regarded the
glass with some trepidation as he filled it much too full. “Oh,
really, now, Captain, I am not a drinker of brandy.”

He filled his own glass
and held it high. “Raise your glass, Jeannie McVinnie,” he
ordered.

She did as he said.

“
Brandy is for heroes, my dear, or didn’t Thomas ever tell you
that?”

She shook her head.

“
Consider this part of your nautical education, then,” he said
briskly. “To Jeannie McVinnie, who does not want for courage. Come,
come, my dear, it is a toast.”

Jeannie took a sip and
coughed as the fumes filled her nose and the liquor burned a path
down her throat. “This ought to be against the law,” she
croaked.

“
Actually, it is,” the captain agreed. He tipped his head back
and drained the glass. “At least, smuggler’s brandy is.” He poured
himself another glass. “I am in the custom of celebrating a victory
after a battle, as soon as we are able. It does wonders for the men
to knock back an unexpected tot of rum. You may ask my
lieutenants.”

Jeannie took another
cautious sip. The brandy traveled down more pleasantly now,
creating a warm spot in her stomach that reminded her of a parlor
fire after a cold day. Two more sips and the glass was empty.

“
It
must be an acquired taste,” she said as she watched him refill her
glass, not thinking to object.

“
I
certainly acquired it,” he agreed, sitting down and pushing his
chair back so he could prop his feet on the table.

Jeannie moved the china
out of the way and then sat back in her chair, sipping thoughtfully
and wondering why the room was taking on a soft glow and Captain
Summers sounded so mellow and far away.

The captain drank
deeply and tipped more brandy in her glass. “Many is the evening we
have sat around the wardroom table.” He touched her glass with his.
“To Jeannie McVinnie, who cares about flower girls and ungrateful
heiresses.”