Sail Away Read online

  Paul might have taken offense at the interrogation, but it occurred to him that answering her questions would serve as a sort of gunnery practice, for he would have to go through this with Cynthia’s father before many days had passed. Besides, if he could win Mrs. Leggett’s approval, he would have a redoubtable ally. “I have not. An honest courtship is my intention, ma’am. It is most irregular on such brief acquaintance, and I regret the peculiar circumstances—but not the opportunity.”

  He considered what she might wish to know, and summarized. “To answer your second question fully, I have no other attachments, and my life is such that I seldom have the opportunity to meet eligible ladies. My father is a Viscount; I am his second son and have no expectation of coming into the title, as my elder brother now has two sons of his own. My pay as a commander is some £200 per annum. I have an additional income of £300 from an inheritance that includes a country house, so I could provide a comfortable home for your granddaughter. I have no contagious diseases, there is no hereditary insanity in the family, I do not gamble nor drink to excess. I am a churchgoing man when ashore, but I believe that Christian deeds count for more than ostentatious piety. I have only contempt for the sort of man who would ever strike a woman or beat his children or servants, I am not cruel to animals—and my teeth are sound.” He ran out of breath and information simultaneously, and refreshed himself with a sip of tea. “Have I omitted any significant detail?”

  She chuckled. “If you had, I should not dare to press you further. I wish our minister had your gift for brevity.”

  “You may verify all my statements with my commanding officer,” he added helpfully.

  “I’ll leave that to my son,” she said, as they heard Cynthia’s step upon the stair. “He’ll give you a far harder time than I would—he’ll not wish to lose the best housewife in Trenton to a quick-thinking sailor.”

  GRANDMAMA HAD lost no time in making good on her promise to give Cynthia a chance to get acquainted with Commander Smith, so she tried to school her features into a semblance of composure before she went downstairs to face him. What a goose she was, to become so excited over the prospect of a trip to the fishmonger! She opened the chest at the foot of her bed and shook out her light gray cloak.

  “Cindy!”

  She could not help uttering a small yelp as her younger brother’s head popped out from under her bed.

  “Geoff! How long have you been down there?”

  “Only since breakfast,” he said, pulling his gangling frame the rest of the way out and shaking dust from his brown-blond curls. “Noreen fed me in the kitchen. She’s not done a very good job of cleaning under the bed, though,” he added as an afterthought. “It isn’t like you to miss that.”

  “Wherever have you been?” she demanded. “And why are you skulking about the house? Have you talked to Papa?”

  “No,” he said. “Nor do I mean to. I’m staying with friends. I only came to say good-bye to you, sister. That is, if you mean to abandon our home in its time of need.”

  The accusation went straight to her heart, though she did not see her half-formed plans as abandoning her home. She merely wanted to go home, at last—home to England. “What do you mean?”

  “America needs all her sons—and daughters. If we are to throw off the British yoke, we must stand together.”

  “Geoffrey—” Oh, dear. “Do you remember England at all, Geoff?”

  “Not much. Nor do I want to. My home is here—and so is yours. We need to fight for what is ours!”

  He had been reading the printed speeches of Mr. Henry again, Cynthia was sure of it. She sighed. “Brother, I wish the truth were that simple. You were only eight when we left England, and for you I imagine it was all a grand adventure. Papa and Winston had the business to occupy their time—”

  “Yes, I know,” he said, grinning. “I had a fine childhood, even if New Jersey was too tame for wild Indians. But I’m a man now—”

  “You are a wild Indian yourself,” she said, too agitated to be the indulgent older sister this time. “Geoffrey, the family is moving north. How do you think you can survive here, all alone?”

  “I’m going to join Washington’s army,” he said. “Since Father’s not selling the house, I thought I would stay here.”

  His shortsightedness exasperated her. “How can you stay here if you are in an army? A soldier under orders must go where he is sent.”

  “I’ll think of something.” With the supreme confidence of youth, he brushed aside the matter of food, lodging, and military obligation. “Who’s this Redcoat in the house?”

  “He’s not a Redcoat, he is a naval officer,” she corrected. “And you might keep your voice down, unless you want to meet him directly.”

  “So Father’s quartering troops, is he?”

  “Hardly. Commander Smith is planning to escort us to the Penelope, presumably to protect us from your Patriot friends. Do you know that two of them nearly came to blows with Papa yesterday afternoon?”

  “No more than a shouting match, I heard.”

  “Geoffrey….” She bit her lip. “Geoff, please—make your peace with our father. Come with us to Nova Scotia. Surely you can come back later, if you think you must.”

  “Why waste the time? Cynthia, do you not see that we must fight for America?”

  His speech was really quite monotonous. “No, I do not. If you want the truth, Geoff, the truth for me, I am the same as our poor mother, only perhaps a little stronger. This place will never be my home. I wish that we had never left England. I know Papa has done well here, he has made his fortune, even bought his own ships—but we were not poor when we lived in Southampton. We had friends, family—we had music, Geoffrey. When was the last time you heard real music? Can you even remember?”

  He was staring at her as though she’d suddenly begun speaking Greek—worse, perhaps, since he’d been taught a little Greek by his tutor. “Cynthia, what does music matter when human liberty is at stake?”

  Anger and affection warred within her. She seized his shoulders and shook him, then pulled him into a hug. “Geoff, it is not human liberty you are speaking of. It is only taxes and politics, the affairs of men. For me and Grandmama—for us women, I do not see how your revolution could change our lives very much. But I cannot bear to see you throw your own life away on this ill-considered rebellion!”

  His face hardened, and for the first time, Cynthia saw her little brother as a man. “So you are English, then?”

  “Yes, I am. And so are you!”

  He shook his head. “No. No, sister, I am an American. There is nowhere else I would wish to live—nowhere else I could live. Which I suppose makes me a traitor in your English eyes.”

  “Of course not. You are my brother. Please, stay here, talk to Papa—”

  “Cynthia, it would do no good. I have nothing more to say to Father, nor he to me. You know how he is when he refuses to listen to anything that is not an echo of his own thoughts.”

  That made her smile. “I certainly do.”

  Geoff glanced out the window and waved to someone she could not see who must be waiting outside. “Can I trust you not to raise the alarm to the fine naval officer downstairs?”

  “Of course,” she said wearily. “If you are determined to go off on your own, I will not try to stop you. Where can I reach you?”

  “You promise not to tell anyone?”

  She was growing very tired of this game of soldiers. “When have I ever broken my word to you? If you want your secrets, keep them.”

  He hung his head. “I’m sorry. The Westcott farm, just across the river. Write me when you’re settled in Nova Scotia.”

  “I will.” She studied the serious young face that she had scrubbed so many times to clean him up for supper or church services. “Little brother, please be careful.”

  He gave her a hug. “I will.”

  “And remember to clean your teeth.”

  Geoff groaned. “Liberty from the nagging of
older sisters—that will be my battle cry! Now take this—” He shook out her cloak and threw it around her shoulders. “—and get that Redcoat out of the house so I can make my escape.”

  “Say good-bye to Grandmama before you go!”

  “Yes, of course I will. You take care of her, Cynthia. She loves you best of all.”

  “I will.” She settled the folds of the cloak around herself and paused in the hall outside her room. For all his youth, Geoff was right. It was one thing to say good-bye to her father and elder brother; Winston was cut from the same cloth as her father, and it was only natural that one day she would marry and leave her father’s home. But to leave Grandmama, who had been as much a mother to her as the woman who gave her birth—how could she consider doing such a thing?

  She started down the stair with leaden feet. Paul and her grandmother were waiting there, looking very pleased with themselves—no, she must not think of him as Paul; to do so would only mean disappointment. But the two of them were smiling at her, so she had to smile back, however difficult that was. “Let me just get the market basket and we can be off.”

  Paul took charge of the basket as soon as they were out of the house, and insisted she take his arm as they strolled along the boardwalk. It was early in the day, and there were as yet few people about. “Your grandmother is a remarkable woman,” Paul said.

  Coals of fire to heap on her head! “Yes, she is. I don’t know what I would have done without her when I lost my mother.”

  “She reminds me a great deal of my own grandmother. Any time I got myself into trouble, I could always talk to her.”

  “Were you often in trouble?”

  “Constantly. My father finally got me a midshipman’s berth because he was afraid I’d get myself hanged, or worse, if left to my own devices. I don’t say my grandmother coddled me, or made excuses for my misdeeds. But she spoke to me as though I had sense—she made me reason out the error of my ways—to understand why it was not wise to take a dare, even if I went back and did the same thing the next day.”

  “I have always thought boys were strange creatures,” Cynthia said. “Why is it that a boy can know perfectly well that something is foolish, but if a friend issues a dare, he’s off like a shot—in the wrong direction?”

  Paul nodded. “I have a theory on why that occurs. In the society of warriors—and even our relatively civilized society is still based on defense of our homes and loved ones, our territory—it is necessary that there be no weak links. When boys tease one another and dare each other to take chances, they are testing their fellow warriors.”

  “That may be true,” she agreed. “Still, my brother and his friends would often tease one another to the point of cruelty—and I’ve seen my elder brother do that, as well, and even grown men. Not all men are equally strong, and I cannot see that it does the larger society much good to demean those who have not been blessed with great size or strength.”

  “If a society were perfect, and men were perfect, perhaps that would not happen. I doubt we shall live long enough to see such perfection. Besides, you forget the role of women. Without you, there would be no civilization beyond what might be needed to put food in our bellies and build warm huts. We need you to remind us when it is time to stop acting as though we’re filthy little beasts.”

  “You may give us too much credit,” Cynthia said. “Women can be cruel to one another, but those who are try to exercise their ill will in ways that gentlemen will not notice—though I believe most of us realize we need to help one another. I have always been exasperated by girls who throw themselves so furiously into competing for the attention of men. It seems demeaning, somehow, to treat a fellow human being as though all persons of his gender are brainless boobies to be manipulated….”

  Paul raised a delaying hand. “Miss Lancaster.”

  “Yes?”

  “When it comes to dealing with the fair sex, I have come to the conclusion that most of us are indeed brainless boobies. I cannot tell you the number of my fellow officers who have lost their hearts to some young lady who had nothing more to recommend her than a pretty face and a flattering tongue.”

  “Since I have neither of these qualities, I must then be a tremendous prize!” Cynthia said ironically. “Oh, bother!”

  “What is it?”

  “Your fascinating conversation, Commander, has distracted me from my errand. We are nearly halfway to the ferry—we must turn back.”

  He accepted the course correction without demur, but asked a difficult question. “Why do you demean yourself?”

  “I do?”

  “You said you did not have a pretty face.”

  “Oh, sir, you have a good pair of eyes, and you have seen the portrait of my mother. To call me plain is a kindness.”

  “To call you plain would be an injustice,” he said. “I have known you less than a day, but in the Navy, one learns to observe a man’s actions—or a woman’s—and draw rapid conclusions. Would you like to know what I have observed about you?”

  Heart in her throat, Cynthia hesitated. “Perhaps.”

  “You are polite, neat in your dress, and gentle in your manner. Even though your father does not give you a great deal of consideration, you love and defend him.”

  “My father is kind to me, sir, and most generous. We disagree on some matters, but that is natural, I think.”

  He smiled. “You prove my point. Furthermore, you keep a tidy house and your grandmother has called you the best housekeeper in Trenton. From what she has told me, you have been doing a woman’s work since you were little more than a girl, without complaint.”

  “Grandmama underestimates herself, then. I could not have managed without her.”

  “That may be true, but I think it would have been difficult for her to have managed without you, as well. You are a superb cook, you manage the household with only one servant, you are well-read, and I enjoy your conversation. If you also play a musical instrument—”

  “I learned to play the piano when I was a child,” she said. “My father has promised to bring one from England, after this disturbance is over. He gave me a Spanish guitar three years ago, and I have learned to play it a little. Do you enjoy music, sir?”

  “Only singing. ‘Alas, my love, you do me wrong…,’” he began, and she joined in, “‘to cast me off discourteously….’”

  They walked along singing “Greensleeves,” and Cynthia was certain that the townsfolk who noticed must think she had run mad. But it was worth their possible censure to learn that Paul did indeed have a marvelous voice, and not only did it tingle down to her toes, it produced extremely pleasant sensations in other parts of her anatomy. If she held his arm a little tighter than was absolutely necessary, he did not seem to be troubled by it.

  They nearly walked past the fishmonger’s a second time, but Cynthia called a halt and procured the necessary victuals, a cut of fresh halibut that would do beautifully for dinner. She introduced Commander Smith to Mr. Herbert and confirmed the rumor that the Lancaster family was indeed leaving Trenton.

  She had thought that the musical interlude and the stop at the fishmonger’s had ended Paul’s embarrassing catalog of her supposed merits, but she was mistaken. They were no sooner out of the shop than he resumed.

  “So, then, Miss Lancaster, on the subject of your virtues, I would say in conclusion that yours far outweigh those of young ladies who have cultivated only superficial charm.”

  “And I would say that you are either a gentleman of acute perception, or a seriously deluded lunatic who has been at sea far too long!”

  “You are too modest,” he said. “I have only been at sea for some ten years.”

  They walked along quietly for a time and were within sight of the house when Paul cleared his throat once more. “Miss Lancaster, I realize this is extremely irregular—and I should have spoken to your father first, but I have spoken to your grandmother—and considering that you will shortly be leaving the area and I will in all l
ikelihood be returning to England—”

  They had reached the door, and her heart was beating so fast she thought he ought to be able to hear it. “Just a moment, sir, if you please.” She quickly took the halibut into the kitchen and left it with Noreen for cleaning, then took Paul into the parlor. Oddly, her grandmother was not in her usual seat by the window.

  Paul looked at her, and in those deep brown eyes, she saw the answer to the question in her heart. But he was a dutiful man and continued with what he’d been saying as they arrived. “I do appreciate your father’s concern for your safety, Miss Lancaster, and his intention to provide you with a suitable husband—”

  As interesting as it was to watch a man of such force and decision floundering so profoundly, Cynthia could tolerate it no longer. “Captain Smith.”

  He took the interruption mildly. “Yes, Miss Lancaster?”

  “You have my permission to appreciate my father’s decision on my behalf as well as your own, for I promise you, I do not appreciate it at all.”

  He blinked as though she had slapped him. “I beg your pardon?”

  “That is not necessary. But please, I beg you, cease praising the wisdom of my father’s decision. Mr. Humboldt is a worthy gentleman, but even if I end my days a spinster, I will not be his wife.”

  Paul’s mouth opened, but for a moment, no words came out. Then he said, “My dear Miss Lancaster!”

  “Am I?” she demanded.

  “Are—are you what?”

  “Your dear.” She felt the heat rush to her cheeks as she said it, but there was no taking it back, so she plunged ahead. “For if you feel anything for me, I do wish you would screw up your courage and say so, before I am dragged off to that howling wilderness!”

  “Miss Lancaster!” Her hand disappeared between his two much larger ones. “I would like nothing better. But to disregard the wishes of your father—”

  “My father is a fine man, and I do love him. But I do not wish to spend the rest of my life in his care, nor with a man who is enough like him to be his son.” She met his eyes, and the hope she saw in them gave her the courage to finish. “I wish to have my own home, my own family… my own husband.”