Regency Debutantes (23 page)

A furiously blushing Georgiana gulped the rest of her tea, hot though it was, and tried not to think of what Mrs Howard was alluding to. Unfortunately the memory of intimacies shared with the captain came flooding back all too readily. She cleared her throat. ‘Thank you, ma’am, for offering such advice, but that isn’t the cause of my quandary.’

‘Do you find the thought of wedding Captain Hawke distasteful?’
The modiste asked the question even though she had witnessed its answer with her own eyes.

‘No, indeed, there is no other man whom I’d rather marry.’

‘You said that you love him, and you really do, don’t you? Any fool with eyes in his head can see that.’

‘Yes,’ she said simply.

Mrs Howard took Georgiana’s hand between her own. ‘Then, tell me, dear girl, precisely what is the problem?’

‘I don’t want him to sacrifice himself by making a marriage that’s not of his own free will. He will wed me to save both our reputations. Can you imagine what would be thought of Captain Hawke if the truth were to emerge? A woman creeps aboard his ship, serves as a ship’s boy, before being transferred to the position of captain’s boy, sleeps within his own night cabin, while the captain lies to the crew that the lad is his nephew! Through my folly, and nothing of Captain Hawke’s fault, I’ve placed him in a position that could ruin his career, something that he’s worked long and hard to attain. I’ve forced him to a marriage. Nathaniel Hawke doesn’t love me, and I fear that eventually he’ll grow to hate me.’ She turned saddened eyes to Mrs Howard. ‘How can I marry him, knowing all that I do?’

The older woman was quiet for a little. ‘I take it that Captain Hawke himself told you of the threat to his captaincy?’

‘Nathaniel only confirmed what I already knew. It’s the reason I agreed to marry him.’

‘I see,’ said Mrs Howard. ‘Not because your own reputation is ruined and you love him?’

Georgiana darted a startled look at her chaperon. ‘Nathaniel is of the aristocracy. My father’s an inn-owner. I bring no dowry, no contacts, nothing that could be of any use to a man like Nathaniel, nothing except Georgiana Raithwaite. I would never agree to wed him to save myself.’

Evelina Howard smiled. ‘But you’ll do so to save him?’

‘Of course.’

‘Would you believe me if I told you that Captain Hawke holds you in very great affection?’

The girl slowly shook her head.

‘I’d wager that you’ve misjudged his true feelings. Many gentlemen can be a little reticent to convey their romantic sensibilities. It doesn’t follow that they don’t care. Besides, you’re forgetting, I’ve seen the way that he looks at you!’ She raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow and turned up the corners of her mouth.

‘I’m afraid you’re mistaken, ma’am.’ Georgiana sighed. ‘Although it pains me to admit the truth, I must. Captain Hawke is not indifferent to me. Indeed, I do believe he actually feels some element of—’ she paused, blushed, and completed her sentence ‘—of desire for me. But living amidst one hundred and eighty-five men these past weeks has certainly been educational. For I’ve learned that when a man is at sea for any length of time, confined with other men, and away from women, he’s liable to desire the company of any woman. And I stress the word
any.’

Mrs Howard fixed a determined look upon her young charge. ‘Georgiana Raithwaite, I dread to think what manner of education you’ve been exposed to. Suffice it to say that men do have certain, shall we say, appetites, but if Captain Hawke was of such a mind he would have taken advantage of you long before the
Pallas
docked in Gibraltar. And as you’ve assured me that the captain has not…ruined you, then we can be confident that it’s not his carnal appetites that are driving him to marry you.’ She did not add that a man with the looks and position of Nathaniel Hawke would have no difficulty finding any number of women within the port to satisfy those needs.

‘No,’ agreed Georgiana, ‘it’s his sense of honour and the fact that his back is against the wall that propel him.’ She shook her head. ‘There’s no way to postpone the wedding and save face, so I thought that perhaps after the ceremony I could stay here with you while Nathaniel sails for England. He could then obtain an annulment, leaving him free to marry as he wills. I, of course, would wait some time before returning.’

Evelina Howard carefully placed the fine porcelain dish upon the saucer. ‘To resume your place in the bosom of your family? To stand once more within the marriage mart, and wed a man other than Captain Hawke?’

‘No, I could never do that! I’ll stay in Portsmouth and become a paid companion.’

‘You think to have it all worked out,’ said Mrs Howard smoothly. ‘But—’ she raised her cool grey eyes to Georgiana’s ‘—you’ve omitted to consider one vital fact.’

Georgiana’s brow furrowed.

‘I leave Gibraltar for England after your wedding. I’ve a notion to return to my roots, and Captain Hawke has been kind enough to offer me transport upon his ship. We shall make the journey together, my dear, and arrive in Portsmouth before Christmas.’

‘But…’

Mrs Howard’s firm hand patted Georgiana’s. ‘Life as a poor miserable spinster at the beck and call of arrogant old women, or marriage to Nathaniel Hawke—I wouldn’t have thought the choice a difficult one. The man loves you, Georgiana, as you love him. Be happy with the chance that fate has dealt you, take the risk, and you’ll see that I’m right.’ She rose and, leaving the empty dishes still upon the wooden table, moved slowly across the moonlit room. ‘Now, I, at least, am for bed, and so too should you be.’

With Mrs Howard’s words echoing in her mind, it was some time before Georgiana finally found sleep.

Walter Praxton tutted at his fingers stained with ink from the quill held tightly between them. He scrubbed at them with his handkerchief before continuing with his carefully constructed text.

The week had passed almost as a blur for Nathaniel, caught as he was between completing the preparations for his wedding and ensuring that all on the
Pallas
was in order prior to the commencement of her return journey to England. On top of this he was required to fashion and reveal a clever tale to account for the sudden disappearance of Master George Robertson, a task that was proving rather more difficult than his initial estimation because of the overt interest his crew seemed to have taken in the matter. Indeed, he had barely had time to visit his betrothed. Wednesday had seen a rushed affair when he’d called at Mrs Howard’s to inform the ladies that the ceremony would take place two days hence. Georgiana had expressed a wish to converse with him, seemingly at length, but, due to a pressing appointment with Rear Admiral Tyler, Nathaniel had been unable to comply. Thus it was that he found himself on Friday morning waiting with a growing sense of pleasurable anticipation for the arrival of his bride before the altar in the King’s Chapel.

Lieutenant Anderson smiled nervously as his second by his side. Around the splendid interior Lady Tyler had organised
the hanging of garlands of small white flowers, artfully interspersed between vivid green foliage swags on the ends of the pews. The chaplain hovered nearby, looking unwell, but insisting that he was able enough to perform the marriage ceremony. On one side of the church a clutch of finely attired ladies and their smart naval husbands, Admiral Tyler’s officers, were seated on the heavy wooden pews. On the other, the officers of the
Pallas
sat rigidly upright. It appeared that Miss Raithwaite’s preference for punctuality might, on this occasion, have failed. No doubt putting the finishing touches to her wedding gown, or some such matter. Or so Nathaniel thought. Not for one minute did he consider that the object of his affection’s delay could be due to another reason all together—that perhaps the strong-willed Miss Raithwaite was suffering a late resurgence of conscience.

‘I cannot marry him,’ avowed Georgiana with surprising force. ‘He must not make such a monumental self-sacrifice.’ She sat herself down abruptly in the parlour chair, oblivious to the crushing of the delicate pale pink silk of her train. The tiny rosebuds and pink pearls clustered around the neckline heaved dramatically with the agitated thrust of her bosom. ‘No, it won’t do at all.’ Her fingers seized upon her ear lobe setting the single pink pearl earring dipping and diving in a veritable frenzy of motion.

Mrs Howard, far from lapsing into hysterics at the sudden change of mind in her charge and the rapid ticking of the clock, calmly faced Miss Raithwaite with a steely eye. ‘No, indeed, it won’t,’ she said, swaying the intricacies of her classically styled hair with a delicate shake of the head. ‘Of course you must not marry him if you feel that it would be a mistake to do so.’

Georgiana glanced up, somewhat surprised at the modiste’s
agreement. She had expected at least some semblance of persuasion.

‘Captain Hawke will already be present and waiting in King’s Chapel. Shall I send a maid along to inform him by way of Admiral Tyler that you’re jilting him at the altar?’ Her voice was silky smooth, her eyes flashing the colour of sword blades. ‘Don’t concern yourself that he’ll suffer overly much from the pity of his own officers—oh, and, of course, Admiral and Lady Tyler, and the rest of Gibraltarian society. He’s a strong man, and one who is, after all, due to sail tomorrow morning.’

Georgiana opened her mouth to argue, but promptly closed it again when Mrs Howard returned, ‘No, Miss Raithwaite. Kindly do me the honour of allowing me to finish what I have to say.’ And so she continued. ‘The scandal shall be shortlived. And I’m sure that his honour will still guarantee you a passage home aboard the
Pallas
, so there’s no need for you to worry on that score either. Perhaps the journey within such confinement will give you time to explain to the captain how your treatment of him is a fitting reward for all that he’s done. Risking his very position within His Majesty’s Navy for a woman, only to have her jilt him, and in such a very public way. No, you’re quite right, Georgiana, one’s conscience must always be clear, no matter the consequences suffered by others in its purging.’ She rose in one fluid movement and made to ring the bell. ‘I’ll dispatch the maid immediately. No point in prolonging Captain Hawke’s ordeal.’

‘No!’ Georgiana cried. ‘Your words have shown my thoughts as shallow and petty. I’ve been absorbed with myself, never thinking of the harm I may do Captain Hawke with my childish notions. Mrs Howard, please forgive my foolishness. My mind has been quite overcome with selfish emotion.’

Mrs Howard reached for Georgiana’s hands. ‘It’s common for young ladies to experience such doubts just before their marriage. Cast them away, hold your head high, and with a stoic countenance do what you must to complete what this day has started.’

‘Thank you.’ Georgiana’s voice was small, her heart suitably chastened, as she accepted Mrs Howard’s embrace. ‘Mrs Howard, I do believe we have a wedding to attend.’

And with that the ladies made ready to depart the modiste’s establishment for the very last time.

Nathaniel’s hands were growing somewhat clammy and a gnawing feeling of unease had developed within his stomach. It appeared that Miss Raithwaite’s outfit must be in need of complete restyling or something else was very much wrong. John Anderson was shifting his weight between both feet, small beads of perspiration collecting upon his upper lip and brow. He pulled nervously at his neckcloth before glancing for the umpteenth time at his commanding officer. A murmur of disquiet had set up within the party as they sat bathed in the colourful light from the great stained glass window. Nathaniel had just made up his mind to send a messenger to Mrs Howard’s residence when he spotted the lady herself.

Georgiana looked splendid in a pseudo-Greek classical gown of the palest pink coloration. With her dark hair swept up and adorned with a bandeau of pink rosebuds, she looked nothing but beautiful. Her ivory skin seemed to have been carved from alabaster and
the single row of fine seed pearls fastened around her neck mirrored those sewn so painstakingly around the neckline of her dress and upon the three-quarter-length gloves that covered her arms.

She looked down the aisle and saw Nathaniel’s tall tense figure. Even as her eyes rested upon him he turned and looked at her. In that single moment time stopped for Georgiana. For her, there was no one else in the church. Even across the vast distance of the aisle she could see the relief in his eyes, and she cringed that she alone had set such a worry there. Had she really contemplated jilting the man? Surely only madness could have prompted such an idea? For Georgiana knew without a doubt that she could wish for nothing more than to be the wife of Nathaniel Hawke. She loved him, it was as simple as that. Her silly fears and idle threats had centred around depriving herself of that which she most desired. Yet Evelina Howard had forced her to see that, in denying herself, not she, but the very man that she cared most for would reap the cruellest of punishments. A shudder rippled down her spine at the thought of what she had almost done in the folly of her anxiety. Now, here, in this church, in his presence, she felt no fear, no worry, no imaginations of the future or gloomy speculation of what it would mean for them both. There was nothing. Only Nathaniel Hawke. And the woman that loved him. She took Admiral Tyler’s arm, smiled, and walked slowly, steadily towards the one person that she wanted most in the world.