Ransome's Honor (17 page)

His brows raised in surprise. “You think Admiral Sir Edward Witherington would not hold each of us accountable to upholding the law of the sea? And that he would not enforce the punishments therein? Our service and obedience extends to our commander’s daughter.”

“And what of Lady Pembroke? Does she not also garner your obedience ?”

The butler’s gaze dropped to the carpet. “Miss, the law of the sea requires men to be obedient only to their superior officers. Passengers are afforded respect but not obedience or loyalty.”

More cheer than she’d felt in the past twenty-four hours flooded Julia, driving out the bleak cold that had overwhelmed her since last night. It pleased her to know that Creighton thought so highly of her to give her the deference due a naval officer. She swallowed back the lump in her throat. Her bursting into tears of gratitude might make him reconsider.

“Very well, then. I have told Nancy I shall have Elton drive her home this morning. I want him to stop at the Yateses’ home on his return. I need to send Susan something.”

Chapter Sixteen

T
he quiet of the townhouse permeated William’s being. He sipped his coffee and turned the page of the
Times
, not caring much about the week-old news from London, but reveling in the peace of having the dining room to himself this fine Saturday morning. He’d awoken before dawn, unsettling dreams driving him from bed to read the Bible and spend time in prayer.

Images from the dream—Julia Witherington being pursued through dark streets until apprehended by a figure draped in a black cloak—made William’s heart clench again. He had not had the dream in years, but Julia had occupied much of his attention of late. Surely that was the reason the disturbing dream returned.

He shook the paper to straighten its drooping pages and tried to snap his mind to attention as well. No more distractions. No more complications.

“I know William will agree with me.” Susan’s voice echoed from the tiled hall seconds before she and a disgruntled Collin entered the dining room. The look Collin gave him told William not to agree with anything his friend’s wife said.

She pulled out the chair beside him and sat sideways on it, facing him. “William, you are aware Julia Witherington is my dearest friend in all the world.”

“I am acquainted with that fact, aye.”

“You also will recall that I know your entire history with my friend. So you will understand it is with love and not a misguided sense of interference—” she shot a scathing look at her husband—“that I ask this.”

So much for no Julia Witherington-related distractions. William started formulating an excuse as to why he could not interfere with Sir Edward’s domestic affairs.

“I believe Julia is in danger.”

His stomach dropped like a ship cresting a surge. Even Collin’s snort of derision could not break through William’s dread. “Danger?” he repeated, hoping his voice sounded more normal to them than to his own ears.

“Yes. I believe her aunt is going to try to force Julia into accepting a proposal of marriage from that awful Pembroke man.”

The waves of fear started to ease, and William regained control of his thoughts. Hundreds of men jumped at his least word. Taking command of his mind should be as easy.

“If she has no one to act on her behalf, if she believes no one is on her side, she might give in and marry a man who wants her only for her wealth and will never love her.”

The memory of seeing Julia ogled by the wolfish baronet brought the need to protect her flooding back into William’s chest.

“If you were to offer your services for anything she might need while her father is away, it might be just the buoy she needs to stay afloat and weather this storm.”

Susan’s deliberate use of nautical terms did not escape William’s notice. He had already given his word to Sir Edward, but how was he supposed to make good on that promise without increasing the gossip already running rampant in Portsmouth? “And exactly what services am I supposed to offer?”

Susan shrugged. “I am not sure-whatever she needs. At the very least, one of you—” she included Collin, who now sat at the head of the table with a heaping plate of food—“should write to Admiral Witherington to let him know we are concerned for her welfare.”

Collin’s fork hit the table none too softly. “We do not know that anything has happened—the admiral has not been gone but one day. And Miss Witherington will likely write to the admiral herself should anything untoward occur. He would not appreciate our interference.”

William’s gut urged him to give in to Susan’s plan, but the logical part of his mind sided with Collin. He was saved from the necessity of responding when Fawkes entered.

“Pardon, sirs, ma’am.” His cloudy blue eyes fixed on Susan. “A young man begs your indulgence in the hall, Mrs. Yates.”

Collin frowned. “A young man?”

“I believe he is in the employ of Admiral Witherington, sir.”

Susan leapt from her seat, bumping William’s shoulder in her haste. Collin followed her; however, although curious, William kept his place.

Moments later, they returned, Collin carrying an iron chest engraved with a large scrolled W, Susan breaking the seal on a note. “It is from Julia.” Her smile beamed, then faded. “Her aunt has insisted she break off socializing with anyone connected to the navy.” She cast a self-righteous glance at Collin and William. “The chest contains some very important papers of her father’s along with other items she wishes to be kept safe until the admiral’s return. She asks that we keep it with us, hidden, until that time. She currently holds the only key, but fears someone may devise a way to break into the box.” Susan turned the page over. “She believes she can trust her butler and driver—the young man who came—to carry messages between us.”

The image of a bright brass key passing from Sir Drake’s hand to Julia’s flashed in William’s memory. No wonder she had been so anxious to regain it. The chest reminded him of a purser’s strongbox, where the money for pay and ship’s stores was kept.

“Collin—hide it under our bed.” Susan pressed her hand to her heart. “Bless her ingenuity for finding an avenue of communication. I pray the two servants can indeed be trusted.”

Collin moved the chest from table to floor with a grunt. “Both served Admiral Witherington on his ship before he hauled down his colors. If anyone can be trusted, it is those two.” He returned his focus to his breakfast.

“Eiton—the admiral’s driver—will return at three o’clock tomorrow to retrieve any messages we wish to send.” Susan refolded the note and slipped it into her sleeve at her left wrist. “So, William, you can send word to her that way.”

“No.” Collin’s years of experience as a commander came out in the single syllable.

Susan’s expression grew stony. “I do believe I was speaking to William, not you.”

Being broadsided by three French frigates would be preferable to sitting at this table at this moment in time. William prayed his mother and sister would not choose this morning to begin taking an early breakfast.

Collin wiped his mouth and braced his hands against the edge of the table as if readying for a storm. “Madam, I would ask that you cease badgering our friend to take an action that would be not only impolitic but improper. If you would like to convey your sympathies and offer your prayers and services—and mine—to Miss Witherington, please do so. But do not try to further involve William in your schemes.”

Rather than dissolve into tears and beg Collin’s forgiveness, Susan’s face flushed, and she stood, hands on hips. “How can you be so unfeeling?”

William took the lack of focus on himself as the opportunity to stretch canvas and sail for safer harbor. Susan’s raised and Collin’s soft-but-heated voices followed William into the hall, but soon he’d gained the solitude of his room. Once again, he wished they did not consider him so dear a friend they could do away with all sense of propriety in his presence.

The key had been to a strongbox containing important papers—most likely the deeds to the house here and the plantation—and possibly a large quantity of money as well. He applauded her wisdom at sending it to safety. Rumor circulated last night among Collin and Susan’s dinner guests of Pembroke’s losses at the Long Rooms since his arrival in Portsmouth.

He shook his head, trying to clear thoughts of people to whom he held no connection. He wrote a note for his mother and returned downstairs. No voices came from the dining room, but William would not go in. He left the note on the receiving table, situated his hat on his head, and left the townhouse, turning his steps to the dockyard. Fawkes had drawn out a rudimentary map for an alternate route with two benefits: a shorter distance and avoidance of High Street.

O’Reilley recognized William and toured him the length of the dock, pointing out the progress made.

Had it been only yesterday he’d seen his ship in a nearly whole state? Entire sections of the curved ribs now sat exposed like bones picked clean by scavengers. His innards twisted.
Alexandra
had been his home, her crew his family for nearly five years. Looking at her now, he felt like an orphan who’d just been turned out of the orphanage—with no home or family to call his own.

Silence filled the house. Julia checked her appearance one last time before making her way down to the dining room. In Nancy’s absence, she had pinned her plaited hair in a thick coil at the nape of her neck.

Lady Pembroke already sat at the dining table, her mouth drawn in a tight line.

“Sorry I am tardy, ma’am. I have given Nancy the day off and had forgotten the time it takes to arrange my own hair.”

“Oh.” Augusta’s displeasure was replaced by confusion. “Why did you give your maid the day off?”

“My mother taught me long ago that granting servants a day off when unexpected keeps them happy.” Julia added milk and sugar to her coffee and sat in the chair at Augusta’s right.

Augusta set down the bite-marked toast and took a sip of coffee.

“What do you have planned for us today?” She had to keep her aunt believing she intended to obey all her rules rather than just abide by the letter of the law Aunt Augusta had laid down.

“Baroness Fairfax has invited us for tea at three o’clock.”

“Very well. If it will not disturb you, I believe I shall practice my music today. I’ve not touched the pianoforte for nearly a month, and my fingers ache for the exercise.”

“Fine.” Augusta returned her attention to her breakfast.

“What dress should I wear to tea?” Julia tried to keep her expression as guileless as possible. “With Nancy gone, I am at a loss to know what is a morning dress and what is a ball gown.”

“I believe your pale blue sarcenet silk will suffice.” Still frowning, Augusta folded her napkin and stood. “I shall be in the sitting room should you need me.”

Julia kept her smile to herself until she heard her aunt’s footsteps on the stairs. The first part of her plan was working. Even if Aunt Augusta didn’t believe her, at least she was no longer as angry as yesterday. Julia finished her breakfast and went up to the conservatory.

She sat at the piano and lost herself in some of her favorite pieces of music. Then she took up the violin—the instrument her mother had allowed her to learn with much reluctance, as it was not considered ladylike.

Though somewhat bored by spending the full day at her music, she managed to wile away the hours until time to dress.

Half an hour later, she met Aunt Augusta in the front parlor. The pale blue silk covered her up in an almost matronly manner, from the high lace collar to the ruffles at the wrist that flopped down to nearly cover her hands.

“Shall we go? I would hate to keep the baroness waiting.” Julia smiled at her aunt’s consternation and turned before she overplayed her role as the obedient niece.

The rustle of footsteps in grass startled Charlotte. Quickly, she refolded the pages in her hand and stuffed them into her sleeve.

William’s shadow fell over her. “May I join you?”

She nodded, nervousness increasing. Neither James nor Philip affected her like this. Both laughed and teased her, putting her at ease. All three of her brothers had been at sea most of her life, but Philip and James did seem to get home more often than William.

If William discovered her true reason for talking Mama into coming to Portsmouth...

“I apologize for my absences the last few days. I trust Susan has been seeing to your entertainment.”

“I have met more of Portsmouth society than I ever imagined. Mrs. Yates has ever so many acquaintances in town.”

William’s expression finally eased into a chuckle. “Aye, she has never met a stranger, that one.”

“Mama said you were going to the dockyard to see your ship this morning?”

“Yes.
Alexandra
has been stripped down to the bones.”

Her nerves grew tauter as the hidden pages rubbed against her wrist. “Might I accompany you next time you go?”

“To the dockyard?” His forehead creased as his brows rose.

“Yes. I’ve long desired to see it. I have heard so much about Portsmouth, so much about the dockyard from you and James and Philip. I wish to see the place all three of you love so much.” She swallowed hard and clasped her hand over her wrist to stop the letter from scratching so.