|
Althia, wearing her pink and white linen dress, made her way downstairs to breakfast the next morning. Randolph greeted her as she entered the dining room, and she could hear Jane humming in the kitchen as the pair made their way to the breakfast nook.
"My, but you are in a good mood today, Jane," Althia remarked as she sat down, and Randolph jumped up and sat on the bench.
"Indeed, miss, it is a pleasant start to the morning. Humphrey says that the man's fever broke last night, and he has surely seen the worse. Praise be to God, miss, praise be to God."
"Praise God indeed, that is a good way to start the morning. Have you been by to see the man? Has he said anything about who he is yet?" Althia was surprised at how her curiosity was getting the better of her.
"Not yet, miss," Jane remarked as she set down Althia's curds and milk, "But I suspect any moment now we shall discover who our guest is."
Althia nodded and smiled as she started mixing her milk into her curds. Would he turn out to be the brutish oaf consistent with the naval men of Althia's experience or would he be the loving, doting father and husband of her imagination? Why did she even care? True, it wasn't every day that a half-dead stranger showed up at your house, but what was it about this particular stranger? She shook the thoughts away with a shake of her head and half laughed to herself. Randolph gave her an almost quizzical look.
"I can't say that I understand it myself, dear boy," she explained to herself and the dog. She spent the rest of the meal trying not to think about the man, but met with increasing resistance. Finally deciding the task futile, she pushed herself away from the table and proceeded down the hallway to check in on him.
When she arrived at the guest room, the man was sitting up slightly, propped up by a number of pillows. He wore a shirt now, and Humphrey was spoon-feeding him broth.
"Oh, miss, I'm so happy to report that our guest has awaken. The fever broke last night, and he is taking some broth. Isn't that wonderful news?" Humphrey's excitement sparkled in his eyes.
"Yes, indeed, Humphrey. Jane shared that with me this morning at breakfast. I had to come and see our miracle for myself." Althia walked over and stood behind the chair Humphrey occupied.
Humphrey gingerly fed the man another spoonful of broth, which the man feebly received. "He should be up and around in short time, miss. I say, maybe even before the doctor gets back."
"Well, there is no need to rush anything." To the man she said, "You are welcome to stay as long as you need in order to recover. My name is Lady Shevington, and I am the proprietor of this house. This is Humphrey, my servant. You will soon meet John, our stable hand and Jane, his wife and our maid. If you are in need of anything, you need only to ask one of them, and they will see that you receive it. Do you understand?"
The man nodded slightly. "Yes," he hoarsely whispered, "Thank you for your generosity."
"Yes, well, as Lord Nelson once said, 'England expects us to do our duty' and we mustn't let her down." She waited to see what his reaction would be. He just sat there with those dark eyes staring at her, almost mocking her. His body was still, but his eyes were at once full of mystery and something else--something indescribable. Althia could feel her face flush, and she quickly tried to think of a way to exit the now uncomfortable room. "I . . . I shall be out riding for most of the morning, and then I will be back to check on you later." She tore herself from his mesmerizing gaze and directed her attention to Humphrey. "I will send John in to relieve you, Humphrey."
"Yes, miss, thank you."
"Very well. Humphrey," she nodded to the older man, "Sir." She nodded to the younger but could not bring herself to match his gaze. "Good day." She then made her way to her room to change into a riding dress and bonnet.
She hadn't planned on riding today, but something about the way the man looked at her convinced her that she could not stay in the same room with him for very long. Something about his dark, rich eyes cut at her, and she thought that she would lose her breath if she stayed in the room for much longer. It must just be the smells, she told herself in an attempt to explain her reaction. Randolph met her at the stables with an excited and eager expression on his face as John brought out one of the mares, Cider, and they took off at a leisurely pace down the coast.
Althia had been riding for as long as she had been walking. Her father used to take her up and down the coast, and she loved sharing the time with him. He would tell her stories about his father and the great ships that he would make. It was her grandfather that received the title and land in Plymouth as gratitude for his years of service in His Majesty's shipyards and his work in designing many of the ships of His Majesty's fleet. Her father used to recount all of the places that her grandfather had traveled to and the many adventures he had on sea, and it always filled her with such awe and desire. The picture of her grandfather that hung in the Blue Room was nothing like the seamen that typically paraded around Plymouth. Her grandfather always seemed so dignified and honorable, even when he was alive; not like those varmints that called themselves officers. The fact that one now stayed in her guest bedroom, with eyes that seemed to see into her very
soul did little to comfort her.
Plymouth's beauty was beginning to show forth. The grasses begun to take on their familiar hues, and tiny blooms were peaking out along the hills. Hints of whites, red, pinks and purples were starting to appear, signaling the official beginning of spring. In another month or so, the entire countryside would become a kaleidoscope of colors and shades. Spring always warmed Althia's heart, and this year would be no exception. She made a mental note to talk with Humphrey about beginning work on the garden behind
Hindrake. The two of them had made a garden filled with flowers and shrubs of various shapes and sizes. Althia enjoyed the work and seeing their creation come alive every year.
Slowing the horse down, she stopped at a little cove and anchored Cider's reign to a large boulder. She got out a few apples from her pouch and gave them to the mare while stroking her neck. Althia then sat down on the ledge and let her feet dangle over it. She looked out at the ocean and just let her mind clear of all thoughts. Today the ocean was calm, and Althia saw a number of ships out, although from her vantage point, they looked like miniature toy boats. Althia mused over the number of "toy boats" in the Blue Room that her grandfather had made. He even made one for her, naming it the Lady
Althia, finishing it just before he died. When alive, Althia would sit and watch him work in the Blue Room for hours on end measuring, drawing, or sanding. He would tell her stories of sailors nearly missing the rocks where the magical sirens sat singing their enchanting songs. Other times, the stories centered on sailors heroically fighting off natives of foreign lands. Each story delighted her heart and caused her to dream of one day setting sail and seeing these places for herself. However, her travels seemed limited to her sketchpad and her imagination.
Althia looked up and noticed dark grey clouds hovering above, signaling that a storm would soon be approaching. Randolph found yet another stick and brought it over to Althia in hopes that she would be willing to play. She threw the stick as far as she could, with Randolph giving chase. He soon decided that the seagulls flying above were more of a challenge than the stick. Althia stood and began chasing after the dog chasing after the birds. Unexpectedly, a female voice interrupted the comical scene. Althia gathered herself and dusted the back of her dress off.
"Lady Shevington, is that you?" Althia heard a female voice calling her. She turned around and recognized the caller as Margaret.
"Margaret. How good to see you again," Althia remarked, trying to catch her breath. She cursed the fact that she had stayed long enough to have to talk to Margaret and, seeing a male figure walking behind Margaret, Leonard.
The pair made their way to where Althia was standing. Randolph began to bark at the strangers until Althia commanded him to stand down. He continued to growl as they made their way closer, but not too close, to
Althia.
"We were just out enjoying the balmy air when Leonard asked if I knew who that woman was. Well, I told him, there is only one woman in Plymouth who would go off riding by herself with that horse of a dog...Lady
Shevington!" Margaret laughed and seemed proud of her "keen" sense of deduction. Margaret was another carbon copy of her mother. Her light blonde hair hid behind a purple velvet bonnet, and her porcelain skin was covered by a deep violet dress and matching gloves. Leonard had an almost overwhelmed look on his face, and Althia felt a twinge of pity for him. His countenance gave the impression that he had somehow been swindled into this marriage and still was trying to figure out how. Althia hoped, for his sake, that his work kept him busy and away from home often.
"Yes, well I was actually just starting back to the house, but I understand congratulations are in order on your upcoming nuptials." Althia slowly backed her way towards her horse.
"Thank you so much, Lady Shevington. Yes, Leonard and I are so excited about the wedding and our moving to London. Leonard is..."
Althia quickly cut her off. "Oh yes, your mother told me all about it." She was almost to the horse now. "Congratulations, Leonard, on your appointment to the royal household." She unloosed the reigns from the rock.
"Thank you, Lady Shevington. We hope that you will be able to attend the marriage ceremony?"
Althia deftly climbed onto the horse. "I shall have to check my calendar. You will let me know the exact day now, won't you? Take care, Leonard, Margaret." She whistled for Randolph and rode off
back towards the house.
"Yes, well the date is..." she heard Margaret's voice growing fainter with each clop of the horse's hooves. Althia soon came to the conclusion that dealing with the stranger in her home was far better than dealing with the pair still standing on the shore. Althia and Randolph sped on toward the repose of
Hindrake.
Nicholas looked around the room for the hundredth time. Where was she? When would she return? He leaned back and pictured her once again in his mind. Her light pink dress with delicate trim resting against her creamy skin. Her eyes, the shade of the ocean after a storm and her soft brown hair only a shade or two darker than his mother's. Everything about her was in directly opposition of Catherine with her pale skin and brown eyes and muddied blonde hair. He couldn't be sure, but since the woman did not make mention of a husband, Nicholas thought that she was still unattached. Of course, perhaps her husband was away on business or in another part of the house. But, the way she looked at him this morning . . .
Stop it! he commanded himself. You're just imagining things. You're a married man, remember? Even if she is single, you are not. You are still bound to your vows and your wife, no matter how much you despise both. Nicholas silently cursed his wife and God. It had been his goal to meet the latter when he jumped off the pier. Why couldn't he just die like any other human? What was he doing here? And when was she coming back? Nicholas tried to find something else to occupy his thoughts. He didn't have enough strength to get up and walk to the bookshelf past the foot of the bed, nor could he bring his arm up to reach the book on the table near him, since his injury was on the same side. Most everything else was covered, save the table next to him. The old man--Nicholas believed his name to be Humphrey--said that he would be back later to check on him. Nicholas could hear the clock in the other room signaling the time. It announced the five o'clock hour, but he didn't know how along ago that was. He stared into the fire and tried desperately to think of anything else but the lady of the house. Where was she?
Althia barely made it back to the house before the rain started. She and Randolph scurried into the kitchen entrance just as the downpour began. Randolph made his way to the fire to warm himself as Althia removed her riding coat and bonnet. She walked to the hallway to hang them up, and along the way she grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table. She also remembered to select a knife from the silver cabinet. Althia hung her items on the rail and then strode to the guestroom to check on the progress of the patient.
Nicholas heard the commotion of people, no, wait . . .a person and a dog maybe . . coming into the house. Her light footsteps could be heard tripping down the hallway. He instantly closed his eyes and tried to calm his heart and his breathing. Would she come in and check on him? He quickly sent up a prayer requesting forgiveness for his cursing and begging God to send her to his room so that he might see her again and verify that it was not just another illusion.
When she entered the room, Althia noticed that the man was sitting up slightly, leaning against a number of pillows, but his eyes were closed. The fire flickered on his face, and she studied him again. He looked peaceful lying there, not pained as he did the day before. His broad cheekbones were slightly flushed, and his chin had a small dimple in it. His nose was thin, but fitting for his face, and his eyebrows were as dark as his hair—a few wisps of which hung on his forehead.
Almost without thinking, she gingerly brushed them back with her fingers. His skin was much cooler now, and she lingered, just staring at him, for a moment more before she removed her hand and made her way back out of the room.
He thought he would sink back into unconsciousness again. Her touch awakened feelings inside him that he had never experienced before. She removed her hand, and the swish of her skirts told him she was leaving. He had to find a way to make her stay. "Lady
Shevington," he greeted her, his voice a bit stronger than before.
She jumped slightly and turned back around, praying he could not see the blush she could feel on her cheeks and neck. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to wake you," Althia apologized as she turned back around.
"There is no need to apologize. I have been asleep too much already."
"How are you feeling today, mister...?"
"My humblest apologies that I have been unable until this point to introduce myself properly. I am Captain Nicholas Metcalf of His Majesty's Royal Navy." He tried to sit up further but moaned slightly in pain, his face grimacing with the gesture.
"Please do not hurt yourself further," Althia cautioned as she moved quickly to his bedside. After the Captain leaned back into his pillows, Althia stood and curtsied slightly. "Captain Metcalf, welcome to
Hindrake."
The Captain bowed his head and eyes downward. "There can only be one Hindrake in all of England," he commented, looking back up at her. "You must be of relation to Lord Samuel Shevington then?"
"Indeed I am," Althia replied as she sat down in the chair near the bed and began to cut a piece of apple. "I am his granddaughter and sole heir of the house and estate of
Hindrake." She promptly placed the piece of apple in her mouth and began to chew. She finished chewing and then asked, "How is it that you know of my grandfather?"
Nicholas looking longingly at her apple, he feelings for her forgotten temporarily, and then replied, "There is barely a man in the Royal Navy who has not heard of Lord Shevington and his magnificent boats. Captains still tell the tales of seeing the ships that he designed set sail for the first time."
"Then you would be pleased to know that many of his models are housed here at Hindrake. Perhaps when you are of stronger spirit you would enjoy studying them." Althia bit into another piece of apple.
"I would be most honored, Lady Shevington." He paused. After a moment, he asked, "Could I but trouble you with one request?"
"What is it that you require, Captain Metcalf?"
"Please do not think me too forward, Lady Shevington, but might I perchance have a piece of your apple? I have not had fresh fruit in over three months."
Althia cut a piece of apple for the Captain and held it out to him on the edge of her knife. He slowly lifted his hand up and took the apple. He seemed to almost study the piece before finally putting it into his mouth and chewing it slowly. He closed his eyes and meditated on the taste.
After he finished he remarked, "Lady Shevington, after all that you have done for me, for that piece of fruit I am most grateful." He looked at her, soaking in the sweet taste of the apple and desiring to know if her lips tasted the same. He quickly shook the thought out of his mind.
"I feel that you would enjoy the rest of this apple far more than I, Captain," Althia commented as she handed the apple to him. Their eyes locked as his fingers brushed with hers. They sat there frozen, their eyes and fingers touching for only a second, but it felt to Althia like a million years.
Just as Nicholas began to reply, Jane entered the guestroom. "Lady Shevington, a post just arrived for you from Willow Creek."
"Thank you, Jane," Althia said as she broke her gaze and hand from Nicholas to take the post from Jane. Jane curtsied slightly and then left the room. Althia broke open the wax seal and read silently its contents.
"I hope that it is not displeasing news, Lady Shevington," Nicholas inquired after finishing a bite of apple.
"Not as of yet. Two of their mares are calving. One is carrying twins, and they are fearful of breech birth with the other. They have requested that I send John over to them at once to assist them. Will you excuse me, Captain Metcalf?" Althia stood and made her way toward the door.
"Yes, of course, Lady Shevington. I hope that we will have the chance to interview again at a later date."
"I have no doubt that we shall. Good rest, Captain." She stood in the doorway preparing to exit.
"Many thanks for the apple. Keep well my dear Lady Shevington." Nicholas bowed his head and eyes as she left to find John. He again leaned back into the pillows and took another bite, savoring the moment and his delicacy. In the firelight, she was even more intriguing. He was determined to recover, albeit as slowly as possible, to learn more about the mysterious, confident, and elusive Lady Shevington. He wiped the juice from his mouth with a sleeve. He knew there was more to the "Iceberg Princess" than people knew. He would make it his mission to learn what it was--no matter the cost.
John rode off towards Willow Creek as Althia and Jane watched from the large window in the parlor. He quickly rode past the light of the house, and his shape was lost in the rain and darkness of night. The rain was beating against the windowpane as the two women stood there in silence.
"He will be most careful and will come home shortly." Althia tried to calm her servant.
"Indeed miss, Godspeed," she whispered as she looked out the window. Althia gently put her hand on Jane's shoulder. Jane turned to her mistress and gave a half-smile and then tore herself away from the window and back to the kitchen. Althia sat down in the chair near the window and mused over the day's events. She did not remember meeting Captain Metcalf this past autumn, but then, she would be hard pressed to remember any of the officers that she met that season. His mannerisms and speech told her that he was of some breeding--perhaps a merchant's son or of a lower nobility. He was most polite and affable, but Althia did not know if that was just perhaps due to his infirmity and feebleness. Would he grow louder and more boorish the stronger he became? Althia replayed the apple "scene" in her head again and again. Randolph's bark roused her from her imagination. His barking was coming from the back of the house, and Althia quickly stood and ran to track him down.
"Randolph! Stand down!" She commanded as she reached Captain Metcalf's quarters. Randolph sat down but continued to growl at Nicholas. "He is a friend," she explained to the dog as she stood in between Nicholas and Randolph and curtsied. To Nicholas, she commanded, "Stick out your hand."
"I beg your pardon?" Nicholas asked, still shaken by the sudden events.
"The two of you have not been properly introduced. I have demonstrated that you are not an enemy. Now, stick out your hand."
Nicholas gingerly did as he was told.
Althia then turned to Randolph. "Now, you go introduce yourself." Randolph obliged by going and sitting next to Nicholas' bed and extending his paw. Nicholas gently grabbed Randolph's paw and "shook hands" with him.
"There," Althia announced, "You have officially been introduced. He will not cause you trouble as long as you do not cause any."
"I would not dream of it," Nicholas said as Randolph laid down next to the bed. "That is a most impressive companion, Lady Shevington."
"Thank you. I have raised him since he was but two months old. I am afraid that his only fault is that he tends to be a bit jealous of me." She smiled slightly.
"It is only too clear to see why."
Althia fought off the urge to blush as strongly as she could. "I am preparing to retire for the evening. If you are in need of anything, I am sure that Humphrey will be by to check on you and can see to it. Good night, Captain. Randolph?" She asked. The dog raised his head to her. "Are you coming?" Randolph merely laid his head back down. "Will he be much of a bother to you?"
"I should think not. I think I will enjoy his companionship very much."
"As you wish." Althia curtsied slightly and then made her way out of the room and up to her chambers.
As she slipped out of her dress and into her nightclothes, she mused over the way that Randolph took so quickly to Nicholas. Randolph, even after meeting people, was usually quite overprotective of her until he was sure that she was not in danger. What would make him take so quickly to the young Captain? She sat at her dressing table and began to brush her hair. She tried to imagine the Captain aboard one of her grandfather's ships as it set sail for a distant locale. His chest out, the colors of his uniform boldly showing against the background of a crisp Plymouth sky. The wood of the boat glistening in the sunlight with the waves slapping against the hull, as if encouraging the ship onward as it made its way out of port. She could see the guns and cannons gleaming and almost hear the men shouting orders concerning steering and powering the vessel. Nicholas turned to her and smiled and extended his hand, and she took it as he led her to the side of the ship. She looked out and could see nothing but the ocean reflecting the blue of the sky. She turned, and his eyes were glistening in the same manner of the artillery. He leaned to kiss her and then...
...her brush fell to the floor, and the sound brought her out of her daydream. She shook her head in embarrassment. How could she even imagine such things? She knew full well that he had a wife and a daughter, and she wanted nothing to do with marriage. It was as simple as that. The excitement and interest of having someone new in the house just got to her. As soon as he was well and back home to his family, she would give him but a passing thought now and again, and everything would be back to normal. She climbed under the sheets and quickly fell asleep.
©2002 StoriesByEmail.com
|
