Chapter 23
“Wherein parts are played, and neither actors nor audience find pleasure in the performance.”
Henri stood on deck. She had passed a restless night listening to Annie snore and the ever-present rush of water against the moving ship. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking of Lawrence chained below deck.
Tired and dispirited she had risen early, hoping a new day might bring a more hopeful outlook.
Indeed it would be a callous heart and soul that failed to find some pleasure in the scene before her.
Once more the winter sky was clear and a sharp blue, crisp and defined with cold clarity in the sunlight.
The air was clean and pure, imbued with a sweet, icy chill that made it almost painful to breathe and certainly chased any lingering dullness from her tired mind.
The sun hadn’t long risen and was now climbing in the blue.
She looked up at the sails, full and sleekly fat with the steady breeze that seemed to lay its hand so gently upon them.
Everything was so still and quiet, the sails so perfectly distended that there wasn’t the faintest ripple to be found in the canvas, the bright white gleaming in the sunlight, as smooth and softly rounded as sculpted marble.
“It is a lovely sight is it not?”
She turned as a deep voice broke the silence and curtsied to the earl as he approached her.
“It is quite breathtaking,” she agreed, returning her gaze heavenwards. “And so very high. I feel the mast must be scraping the heavens as we pass, it rides so very proud.”
Alex nodded, following her gaze. “Indeed, in fact, that very upper most sail is called the sky sail, so that is an apt enough description.”
“You love it here I think?” she said, gesturing vaguely to the expanse of horizon before them. “You and Lawrence both, you live for this freedom.”
He nodded and offered her his arm to continue with him as he walked the deck. “Yes, in fact I am discovering we are more alike than perhaps either of us had realised. And certainly as stubborn,” he added.
She looked up at him and saw concern in his eyes that was a reflection of her own fears. “We cannot let him go.”
“No,” he said, his expression grim. “We cannot.”
She watched as he returned his gaze to the horizon.
“He has changed too you know,” he said, his voice heavy with sadness.
“He was always laughing as a boy. Everybody loved him, adored him in fact. Wherever Lawrence went there was laughter and mischief. You see, he was always in trouble of some sort or another, and yet none seemed to think the worse of him because he was always so sorry to have caused trouble, always so ready to make amends that no one ever wanted to scold him.” He snorted, shaking his head.
“Little devil got away with murder. But now I see such a serious mind behind his eyes, and it troubles me. I’m afraid the boy I knew is gone. ”
She laid her hand on his arm so that he looked down at her.
“He’s still there,” she said, smiling at him and remembering the merry blue eyes and the wicked smile of the pirate she had first encountered.
“I know he is still the same at heart, but he feels such guilt, and he fears any harm coming to us.” She sighed as frustration got the better of her once again.
“So, he must make us all miserable, himself included, to satisfy his stupid honour.”
He looked at her with a measuring glance that made her skin prickle.
“Miss Morton, perhaps I have done you a disservice,” he said at length. “I have no doubt any marriage between us would be a disastrous one, but I believe you will suit Lawrence very well.”
Henri couldn’t help but laugh at his words, so begrudgingly given and none too flattering. She put her hand up to her bonnet as an icy wind tugged at it and made the ribbons dance.
“Oh, it’s nothing I am unused to I assure you. I’m not expected to have a thought in my head beyond the next ball and new roses for dancing shoes, so it is hardly surprising. In fact I am astonished that you would own the fact at all, let alone apologise for it.”
“Did I apologise?” he asked, one eyebrow raised and the mocking smile firmly in place, and then she saw his gaze catch something beyond her and return to her once more, his smile a little more fixed in place.
“Henri, I instructed that Lawrence be brought up for some air and a turn about the deck. He is watching us.”
“Oh,” she said, as anxiety began to flicker in her heart. “And so ...”
He stepped a little closer to her, holding her gaze. “And so, if we are to proceed with our plan,” he said, pitching his voice low for intimacy. “It would be well if we are seen to be ... trying to make the best of things.”
He reached out a finger and caressed her cheek and she shivered, fighting the urge to step away from him.
“Yes, I see.”
She forced herself to stand in place and saw amusement in Alex’s eyes.
“I am obviously more of a monster than even I had assumed. You look positively terrified,” he said dryly.
Henri huffed out a breath. “Oh dear,” she said, a smile tugging at her mouth. “I’m afraid I am a very poor actress, but I hate deceiving him like this.”
Alex moved beside her and, with a hand placed lightly on her back, steered her to stand with him at the rail, looking out over the sparkling blue water. “I have no doubt, but it is our only course unless you have any better suggestions?”
Henri took a deep breath and, praying he knew what he was doing, laid her head against his arm in a familiar manner. “No, Alex, I don’t, but I hope we are doing the right thing.”
“He’s coming,” he said quietly, and Henri didn’t have to affect a look of guilt as Lawrence approached them for her heart was heavy and full of misery. Still she tried to smile at him and hoped sincerely it looked every bit as fake as it felt.
“Good morning, La... Captain Savage,” she corrected herself, remembering at the last moment the guard who was walking a little behind him.
“Good morning, Miss Morton,” Lawrence replied, and try as she might, she couldn’t find any expression at all beyond a bland politeness in his eyes or his manner. “And a fine morning it is, especially with a vision as lovely as you to brighten the horizon.”
“Very prettily said, sir,” Alex said, his expression as carefully blank as his brother’s. “I hope you slept well?”
“Like a babe rocked by his mother,” Lawrence replied with an expansive gesture, and she recognised the persona of Captain Savage in his manner.
She wondered how much of it was show and how much of it was truly Lawrence.
From what Alex had said perhaps there was little to discern between the extravagant persona illustrated in the pamphlets of his adventures and the real man.
“For a pirate is only ever truly at ease in the arms of the ocean,” he added with a broad grin.
“And now if you will excuse me, I need to stretch my legs before my man here decides I’ve had enough excitement for one morning.
” With a theatrical flourish, Lawrence doffed his hat and bowed, and continued on his way.
“Oh dear,” Henri muttered again, before beginning to chew at her lip with anxiety.
“Courage, Henri,” Alex said, patting her arm. “Faint heart ne’er won idiotic pirate.”
Despite herself she laughed, and then felt horrified all over again as she saw Lawrence swing around, those blue eyes watchful as he looked on the two of them together. Courage indeed.
Alex escorted her back to the cabin where she found Annie engaging in a half-hearted attempt at making the bed.
Henri flopped down in the chair by the desk feeling as worn and jaded as she had on first waking, all the good effects of the morning’s sun and fresh air quite negated by her encounter with Lawrence.
“Well what’s got you lookin’ like you’ve lost a shillin’ an’ found a ha’penny?” Annie demanded, easing herself back to an upright position with a groan.
Henri snorted. “That’s a remarkably apt turn of phrase,” she muttered darkly.
Annie drew in a shocked breath. “I wouldn’t be letting Lord Falmouth hear ye refer to ‘im as a ha’penny, my lady. Lawks, even your pretty eyes wouldn’t be able to flutter ye way out a that remark.”
She moved over to Henri and began fussing about, undoing her bonnet ribbons and scolding her for going on deck at all without having her hair properly dressed first.
Henri suffered it in silence and restrained herself from remarking that Annie had been snoring at the time her attentions had been required.
“Alex is perhaps not as dreadful as I first believed,” she admitted, once Annie had set to work teasing her hair into something that wouldn’t shame either of them. “At least he does care for Lawrence if nothing else. But I do hope I’m doing the right thing in putting my trust in him.”
She had apprised Annie of her conversation with Alex the night before and now filled her in on this morning’s performance.
“Oh, Annie, I felt so awful, and then I felt so damned furious when he didn’t seem to notice or care, he didn’t even bat an eyelid. I don’t know what to do for the best.”
Annie snorted and gave Henri a knowing look. “Oh, ‘e noticed, miss,” she said, smiling. “Don’t ye worry. Ye mark my words ‘e’s sitting down there now, gnashing ‘is teeth an’ green with envy, but ‘e forced you into this so ‘e can hardly back down now can ‘e?”
Henri groaned. “I don’t know whether that makes me feel worse or better,” she protested, and then smacked Annie’s hand away with a yelp as her maid pulled forcefully on a knot, so hard it made her eyes water.
Quite unapologetic Annie just rolled her eyes and hustled off to rummage in the large carpet bag which seemed overflowing with her own possessions.
She emerged a moment later bearing a rather handsome silver flask and a smile.
Opening the lid, she took a couple of hearty swigs before handing it to Henri.
“Here, my little duck, have a swallow a that, ‘twill make all seem brighter and warmer or my name’s not Annie Tripp.”
Henri took the flask from her with a sigh and swallowed the uncharitable thought that she wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if her name wasn’t Annie Tripp.
Though she knew the woman had spent most of her life living in Cheapside, in London, before coming to Cornwall to work for Lord Morton, she had never been too keen to give any other information on her parentage or origins further than an oblique here, there, and roundabouts.
The liquor was fierce and warm, and obviously good quality. “Did this come from home, Annie?” she enquired, surprised if it had that it had lasted this long.
“No, miss,” Annie replied with a cheerful grin. “‘Tis ‘is lordship’s, I been filching a bit now ‘n then.”
Despite everything Henri dissolved into laughter and got to her feet to hug Annie as the shameless maid plucked the flask deftly back from her fingertips. “Oh, Annie, I am so glad you’re here.”
Annie reached out and pinched Henri’s cheek and clucked at her with affection. “No more ‘n I am, my girl,” she said with a fond smile and then tucked the flask carefully into the crevice afforded by her capacious bosom.