Chapter 14 #2
Later that evening, just after sunset. Captain Williams hung a series of ball lights from the mainmast, signaling that he was making ready to leave, and they should come aboard.
A longboat rowed them out to the Xanthus, making its way carefully between the other ships swaying back and forth at their moorings.
When they reached the ship, a sailor, his hair tucked up in a dark woolen cap, leaned down and called, “Beggin’ your pardon my lord, would her ladyship be using a ladder or would she like the chair? ”
As she pretended to listen to Rafe’s translation of the English into French, Alix pondered which would be worse, to be raised by a series of ropes fastened to a chair up and over the side of the ship, or to brave the rope ladder fastened to its side.
Concluding that with the ladder, her fate would at least be in her own hands, she answered Rafe.
He cocked an eyebrow, murmuring softly. “I should have known you’d choose the hard way. You go first and I’ll follow in case you should find yourself in need of assistance.”
Alix didn’t respond, but as she clutched the thick rope sides of the ladder, her skirts billowing out past the thin wooden planks, she found it reassuring to know that Rafe was there to catch her if she fell.
When they were all safely on deck, she saw that half the crew was clambering about the rigging, loosening the huge triangular sails so that they could catch the wind.
The captain inclined his head. “If you like, my lord, there’s a nice spot near the stern where you and her ladyship can watch us prepare to sail. ”
Rafe nodded, smiling. “Don’t worry, Captain, we’ll stay out of the crew’s way.”
As they stood watching the great sails fill with wind, Jervis sauntered up.
Nodding at Alix, he turned smiling to Rafe and said in English.
“Well my lord, it looks like we’re on our way.
” He inhaled, his long nose almost seeming to twitch.
“Never thought I’d be so pleased to smell salt air.
The wind seems to be blowing in the right direction.
Looks like I’ll be raising a pint in England tomorrow. ”
Rafe laughed. “You’ve earned it, my friend, but I’ve a few more things for you to do before you wander off to a tavern.”
Jervis nodded. “Will you be wanting me to tell Ferguson to get off his starchy arse and open up the house in town, or will your lordship be heading straight for the hall?”
“I think we’ll stay in town for a bit.” He inclined his head slightly towards Alix. “I daresay her ladyship will require more than a traveling gown.”
Studying the activity in the rigging above, Jervis said, “You told her yet that you’re a tad above an English silk merchant?”
“I’m waiting for the right time.”
Jervis chuckled. “I’m thinking you’d better find it soon, my lord, or you’ll have your own French rebellion on hand.”
The ship began to come around and the first mate strode up to them, doffing his woolen cap. “Pardon my lord, but the captain has asked me to let you know your cabin is ready and to inquire whether there will be anything further you or her ladyship might need.”
Rafe turned to translate to Alix. Though her eyes had been fixed on the flickering lights of Calais for much of Rafe and Jervis’s conversation, she hadn’t missed a word.
Nor had she missed the mate’s deferential manner toward Rafe and his reference toward them both as lord and lady.
It was with an effort that she kept her face blank as she assured Rafe that she was quite comfortable for the moment.
Answers to odd questions she’d been too preoccupied to ask before tumbled like dominoes in her mind: how a simple merchant could afford a single room in the crowded inns of Paris, or a post chaise; how he had been able reserve passage on a packet and seem so certain that the captain would wait for them.
Various comments Rafe had made came flooding back to her.
His assurance that he was well-known to the ambassador in London, his reference to “people in our position.” Her stomach lurched as she recalled his explanation of why it was imperative that they marry to avoid scandal.
“Your mother isn’t the only one acquainted with Lady Melbourne.
She and my stepmother share a passion for roses and gossip.
” Merchants’ stepmothers didn’t associate with duchesses.
Alix felt an almost hysterical urge to laugh.
Here she’d spent the day wondering what her life might be like married to a simple English cloth merchant when she was married to an English lord.
But the laughter stuck in her throat. She didn’t have to imagine what her life would be like, she knew exactly what it would be.
Indeed, Rafe had told her already; he’d set her up with a suitable allowance and she could choose whether she would like to live in the country or in town.
Just like her parents, they would lead discretely separate lives.
Her hand closed on her corseted chest as she thought of the titles sewn into her stays.
If what Victor had said was true, that the National Assembly was planning to confiscate the land of those émigrés who refused to return to France by year’s end, then she and her mother would be nearly penniless.
She felt light-headed. She supposed she should be pleased with the way things had turned out; she’d stumbled into the perfect marriage of convenience.
Wouldn’t her father have been delighted?
She could almost hear his laughter in the flapping of the shrouds.
A reason for their lovemaking she hadn’t considered before now occurred to her.
Rafe had wanted to avoid a scandal. “I’ve worked hard to ensure Elizabeth a bright future on the marriage mart,” he’d said.
Then he’d given her his word as an English gentleman that she could have an annulment.
Well, she thought, her stomach twisting, he’d found a neat way of keeping his word and getting what he wanted.
He must have known that it would be difficult for an English lord to gain an annulment, and that even if the courts had granted it, the scandal would have been worse than any Lady Melbourne could have created on her behalf.
So to make certain the marriage would stick, he’d consummated it.
Alix thought about how wild he’d seemed when he’d returned to the inn last night.
God, he must have been desperate to have the thing done before they reached England.
And she’d been desperate for him.
Alix bit her lower lip; she’d been a fool.
Even if his motives hadn’t been as devious as she was thinking, he’d lied to her and misled her.
She wasn’t sure what, if anything, she could trust about him anymore.
She thought of the silver hairbrush with the M engraved on the back and fought back another wave of hysterical laughter.
Good Lord, she didn’t even know if Rafe Harcrest was truly his name.
Rafe touched Alix’s shoulder and smiled down at her. “Look at those shrouds fill with wind, watch how she swans about, Alix. We’re on our way home.” Alix stumbled to the side of the ship, cast a final look at the lights of Calais and vomited.