Plymouth's Rock -- Part 6
by Kathy Neise

Nicholas and Althia prepare for a debate, but can either of them defend against the feelings they have for one another?

Time seemed to lose all sense of forward motion for the pair. Althia could hardly keep her attention focused on the book in her hand. She squirmed and twisted in hundreds of positions in the chair, but she couldn't concentrate. So she got up and walked back and forth in the library, nearly tripping twice, unsuccessfully committing the words and ideas to memory. She seemed only capable of thinking of the Captain and the way he smiled and winked at her and then so calmly dismissed her. Althia was at once delighted and disturbed. The clock in the dining room rang out noon. However would she make it until dinner?

Nicholas wrestled with his own thoughts and feelings in his room. Every poem he read seemed to be written for him. If the poem were sad, it was because he was shackled to his wife. If the poem were happy, it was how he felt right here and now, with Althia being so close by. He felt the same way he did the first time he saw her.

The crew of the Leviathan had been ordered to Plymouth in August of last year. Battles had been raging with the French off and on for the past few years with Nicholas and his men seeing their share, so their call to duty came not unexpected. Nicholas, in fact, was overjoyed to go. Anything to get him away from Catherine, especially in her expecting state. Just in the two months that he had been home, Nicholas thought he might go mad having to listen to Catherine complain about her feet or her stomach. He fumed every time he had to converse with her and she knew it. She tried to play upon his pity and sympathy as her husband, but he remained unyielding.

For their first month in Plymouth, the men supplied the ship and took care of general maintenance concerns. Toward the beginning of September, however, the officers began to receive more and more invitations to appear at various dances and receptions. Normally, Nicholas did not attend such stuffy and formal affairs, leaving the obligatory naval officer appearance to one of his peers or superiors. But, this night he could not get out of it.

"Nicholas, you haven't left this ship in three weeks," Commander Brighton observed. "You will attend the Chanceler ball and that's an order."

"Yes, sir," Nicholas dutifully replied, but he was not been happy about it. Nicholas slowly put on his dress colors and hailed a carriage to take him to the Chanceler's home.

The invitation directed him to a more rural section of Plymouth, at the summer home of Lady Chanceler. Many of the homes in Gloucester, including his own, were crammed together as tightly as possible, leaving little room to escape. But the Chanceler home was large and spacious, surrounded by a stunning garden, trees and shrubs of every kind, and sat on a large, beautiful piece of land. Nicholas felt his heart soar. This is the very type of place he would wish to settle down and live in-alone-close to the sea and yet surrounded by the beauty of the shore. He no longer despised having to come; instead he thought it might be nice to spend the evening here and dream of what life could be like.

His carriage pulled up to the estate behind two or three others. Nicholas leaned out his head and happened to catch sight of a woman stepping out of a carriage, being helped out by a large, tall man. She wore a pale blue dress with matching gloves and bonnet and a lace shawl draped delicately over her arms and across her back. He couldn't see her face and just as quickly as she had appeared, she disappeared into the house. Nicholas fell back into his seat in shock. He had seen plenty of women in his life and women of all types in his travels, but none had sent such sparks of lightening through his veins as the brief glimpse of this woman had. He must find out who she is.

It seemed years before his carriage finally pulled up to the door. Nicholas paid the man, making arraignments for the carriage to retrieve him and then entered the house. The male servant took his hat and, from his invitation, announced Nicholas' arrival to the room. Nicholas quickly tried to scan the room and find the woman, but two young women quickly swarmed him.

"Good evening, Captain. I am Cordelia Vaughn and this is my sister, Margaret Chanceler. We are delighted that you could attend our festivities this evening."

Nicholas bowed as the two girls curtsied. Cordelia wore a stunning violet silk dress with a pearl necklace and earrings. She smiled her dazzling smile and her blonde hair was stylishly piled on top of her head. Margaret, an almost exact copy of her sister except for her silver dress, seemed distracted.

"Cordelia, are you sure you haven't seen Leonard? Maybe I should check outside?" Margaret's eyes darted around the room.

"Margaret," Cordelia chided her sister while smiling her painted on smile, "We shouldn't be rude to the guests who are here."

"Actually," Nicholas interrupted, "I'm looking for someone myself. Thank you for your hospitality and graciousness." He kissed Cordelia's hand, then Margaret's before making his way into the ballroom.

Many of the men, upon seeing his uniform, came over and introduced themselves. Nicholas cursed under his breath that he could not get away and look for the woman. Some of the men took him back into the study where they shared a smoke and a drink.

"You must be very pleased with yourself, Captain. The Leviathan is a very weighty assignment for one of your stature," Lord Maynwaring commented.

"Yes, sir, I am aware of my luck and good fortune to be assigned a captain's position at my age, but I assure you that my age belies my experience and expertise."

"No one is doubting your abilities, Captain." Sir Langston tried to stop any arguments before they began. "You obviously would not have achieved the rank of Captain without proving yourself worthy."

Sir Wellston joined them puffing on his cigar. "Do you think, Captain, that they war will last much longer?"

"It is simply a matter of time, Sir. Napoleon will fall soon enough. And now, gentlemen, if you will excuse me, I feel the need for a bit of fresh air."

"Too much stale indoor air cannot be good for a sailor's lungs, I suppose," Lord Maynwaring's snide remark did not go unnoticed by Nicholas, but he simply smiled and walked out without giving the gentleman the satisfaction of an answer.

Truth be known, he had to find that woman. He walked back down the hallway to the ballroom and entered one of the side doors and there she stood-alone in the corner looking much the same way that he did when at home with Catherine. Her long slender arms hung down, her hands clasped together just past her waist. Her dark hair was pulled back, twisted, and pinned on top of her head and she looked at the side wall, not at the dancers in front of her. He hesitantly attempted to take a step toward her when another fellow came into the picture. Nicholas watched the interaction between the two, being too far away from them to hear what they said. The woman looked at the man and said something unemotionally and then turned back to the wall. The man smiled, undaunted, and moved closer to her, saying something else. Nicholas tensed and held his breath, waiting to see what would happen. She said something else, still looking at the wall. The man paused for a moment, his smile frozen on his face. He then abruptly turned and recomposed himself as walked away.

A quelling blow! Nicholas thought. She did not display any typical female tendencies. Instead she showed an edge, a strength emanating from her that separated her from every other woman in the room. Nicholas recognized a large, robust man from earlier and went over to him.

"Excuse me, but you are Sir Langston, correct?"

"That is correct, Captain. How can I be of assistance?"

"That woman, over there in the corner; do you know her name?"

"The Iceberg Princess? You would have better luck speaking to Napoleon himself than with her," the man chuckled.

"The 'Iceberg Princess'? I'm afraid I do not understand."

"That, my dear boy, is Lady Althia Shevington, known throughout all of Plymouth as the Iceberg Princess. Her heart and demeanor is that of an iceberg or a rock. You might as well try walking to America. Lord Nelson himself could not get through her defenses."

"Lady Althia Shevington..." Nicholas slowly repeated the magical words to himself. "Surely she cannot be as harsh as you say. Look at her."

"Looking is all one can do if he is of the male persuasion," Sir Langston explained. "She is determined to be a spinster and has been incredibly successful to date. Now, do not misunderstand me. Lady Shevington is a remarkable woman with an intelligent mind and a gift for working with animals and the land. She lives in a house not far from here with just her servants and is quite happy and content. A fact she is more than willing to make clear to anyone who attempts to persuade her otherwise--especially young men." The man finalized his point by poking Nicholas' arm a few times, but Nicholas was impervious. He had to speak to her, convince her somehow that he was the one for her, the one to break down her defenses and melt the ice surrounding her heart.

Nicholas thanked the man and darted in and out of people to try and reach her. Just as he neared her and tried to think of something clever to say, a gloved hand reached out and grabbed him.

"Lady Chanceler has requested the honor of your presence," the male servant politely commanded him. Nicholas felt torn between his desire to talk to the woman and his duty to speak with the hostess.

Nicholas took a deep breath and made his decision. "Of course, I will be happy to join her." He prayed that Lady Shevington would still be waiting in the corner when he returned. He followed the man to a room on the other side of the ballroom. Large chandeliers hung from the ceiling surrounded by ornate woodworking. Men and women of affluence were gathered in small huddles around the room. Some of the women sat on rich velvet couches and he noticed a number of paintings hanging on the walls. The servant led Nicholas near the front of the room and announced his name to the people standing there.

"Captain Metcalf, how delightful to meet your acquaintance," a silver-haired woman remarked as she raised her hand for him to kiss. He bowed and did as required.

"Lady Chanceler, the pleasure is mine. On behalf of His Majesty's Royal Navy, we thank you for extending this invitation to us and demonstrating the graciousness so instinctual in the English people." He looked up and noticed her black dress and crimson shawl. He recognized her face from meeting her daughters earlier.

"It is I who am delighted to have you, Captain. Commander Brighton speaks highly of you and your work." The older woman fanned herself slightly.

"I consider it a pleasure and an honor to serve under such a courageous and knowledgeable man, Lady Chanceler." Nicholas hated such formal occasions and prayed that the torture would end soon so that he might go back and try to find Lady Shevington.

"Have you had a chance to behold much of my estate, Captain?" Lady Chanceler looked eager to show off her home to such a distinguished guest.

"No, I actually have not had a chance to take in all of your majestic home. I..."

Lady Chanceler cut him off. "Well, then, we cannot have you leave without the grand tour. Stewart." She motioned to one of the servants standing nearby and he helped her off of her chair. She walked over to Nicholas and took his arm as the servant parted the people and led the way.

"I should be getting back to the ship shortly. There are nightly duties I must perform." Nicholas tried to excuse his way out of the tour.

"I shall just have to talk and walk at the same time then, will I not?" She smiled and the two of them left the room and began the journey throughout her expansive home. Nicholas did his best to feign interest, but Lady Chanceler's tour took him farther and farther away from the crowd and Lady Shevington. By the time they finally returned to the front of the house, it was past midnight. He graciously thanked her for her hospitality and dashed back into the ballroom, but the woman had disappeared. He looked all around and in some of the other rooms, but she was gone. He muttered a curse under his breath and went back to retrieve his hat and wait for his carriage. As he stood waiting for the man to bring out the hat, Nicholas caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see a pale blue-bonneted woman hugging one of the daughters he met earlier. Nicholas heart leapt in his chest and just as he prepared to run after the woman, a man grabbed his arm.

"Your hat, sir," the man said forcefully, as if he had been repeating it to deaf ears.

"Yes, yes, thank you," Nicholas replied absentmindedly as he quickly turned back and chased after the woman. Just as he reached the open door, he saw a pale blue glove grip the inside ledge of the carriage and the sound of horses' hooves told him he was too late. Nicholas stood there dumbfounded and crestfallen. Only the tapping of someone on his shoulder brought him back to reality.

"Do you want me to call your carriage, sir?" questioned the servant who had been trying to get Nicholas' attention.

"What? Yes, yes, please..." Nicholas stumbled as he still stood there looking out in the direction where the woman's carriage had gone. He could see only darkness now. His carriage pulled up to the house and the servant opened the door for Nicholas to enter. The door closed behind him and the carriage pulled off into the opposite direction.

The chimes of the clock in the dining room announced that it was two o'clock. Nicholas shook himself back into reality. He tried to straighten his hair and clothes as best he could without a mirror and attempted to return to his reading.

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