Pride in Regency Society: Wicked Captain, Wayward Wife / The Earl's Runaway Bride. Sarah Mallory
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put her hands over her face, fighting back the tears that were choking her. She longed to feel Nick’s arms around her, to hear him utter some words of comfort, but there was only silence and it seemed to stretch on forever.
‘You are quite right,’ he said at last. ‘I have behaved abominably towards you.’
She looked up. He was putting on his coat.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I must leave. I have no wish to force my attentions upon you, nor my company, if you find me so repulsive. Forgive me, Evelina.’
‘Go, then!’
No, don’t leave me! The words echoed in her head but Eve could not voice them. Nick buttoned up the old frock-coat.
‘Richard will escort you back to Monkhurst tomorrow. If you are happy to remain there it will be a comfort to me to have you so close, but it could be dangerous. You need only say the word at any time and Richard shall take you to my brother.’
‘Monkhurst is my home now. I shall stay there. What do you want me to do?’
‘Watch and wait. But you must be careful, and tell Martha she must watch her tongue, because no one else at Monkhurst knows I am alive. Send a message with Richard if you want to contact me.’
‘I will.’
Eve’s heart leapt as he took a step towards her, but he stopped just out of arm’s reach and gave her a wry, apologetic smile.
‘Do not turn me into a monster while I am away from you, sweetheart. I shall give you no cause to distrust me ever again, I swear, but I need time to prove it to you.’
‘Wait!’ She gazed at him. Phrases such as ‘do not go’ and ‘stay with me’ rattled in her head, but instead she heard herself say, ‘Should I not go on to Hastings? Granby will have told you it was my intention to visit the spot where you…died. It might look suspicious if I do not continue.’
‘As you wish.’ He smiled at her and the sight of that wickedly attractive dimple made the breath catch in her throat. ‘Aye, go to Hastings. Let the world know that someone mourns my passing!’
Nick kissed his fingers to her, turned on his heel and disappeared through the door in the panelling. Eve watched the door close behind him, felt the stillness of the room envelope her again. Then, as if released from a trap, she dashed across the room and ran her fingers over the wood, trying to find a handle or lever to open the door. There was nothing. She pressed her ear to the panel. Straining, she thought she heard his boots on the wooden stairs and the dull thud of the outer door closing behind him.
He was gone.
There was a scratching on the servants’ door and she went across to unlock it. Martha peeped in.
‘Shall I clear away now, mistress? It’s growing late and I don’t want to be traipsing through these passages once they have snuffed out the candles.’ She looked over Eve’s shoulder. ‘Where’s the master?’
‘He’s gone.’ Eve took a long breath, but she could not stop the tears spilling over. Martha put her arms about her and guided her to the bed.
‘There, there, Miss Eve. You come and sit here and tell Martha all about it.’
‘Th-there’s nothing to tell,’ sobbed Eve. ‘I—we…had a disagreement and…he l-left.’
Eve subsided into tears and Martha clucked over her like a mother hen.
‘Good heavens, Miss Eve, never say he forced himself upon you!’
‘No,’ cried Eve in a fresh flood of tears. ‘No, of course he did not, I told him to g-go and…and he d-did! Stupid, stupid man!’
The journey to Hastings was accomplished with ease, the Winchelsea road having been repaired and opened again for coaches to pass through. There was no reception party waiting for her when she reached the town and the road leading down the hill to the little harbour was rutted and ill-used. As Richard Granby opened the carriage door for her to alight she glanced at him.
‘There is nothing here except fishing smacks. Tell me, Mr Granby, where are these business acquaintances that my husband was visiting?’
The valet’s impassive countenance did not alter. ‘I cannot say, madam.’
She pulled her veil down over her face. ‘Well, help me out, Granby. We must continue with this charade, although there is no one here to witness it.’
‘Oh I think you are wrong there, madam,’ muttered Granby, giving her his hand. He nodded towards a group of fishermen who were mending their nets in the shelter of an upturned boat. Eve had noticed them looking at the carriage and as she stepped down one of the men came across to her, tugging at his forelock with his gnarled fingers.
‘Beggin’ yer pardon, mistress, we sees yer coming down the road and thinks—well, seein’ yer widder’s weeds—we wonders if you be the cap’n’s widder? Cap’n Wyldfire?’
Eve looked towards Granby and, as if aware of her eyes through the thick veil, he nodded slightly. She turned back to the fisherman. ‘Yes, I am,’ she said softly. ‘Did you—did you know my husband?’
A wide, black-toothed grin split his weather-beaten face.
‘Aye, mistress, we all knew Cap’n Wyldfire. Proper sailor, he was, from the King’s navy, no less, and very generous ’e was, too, allus ready to stand buff in the Stag of an evenin’. He told us he’d come down ’ere to take out the villains what is givin’ us a bad name, sellin’ us their smouch that was no more real tea than that there seaweed.’ The grin disappeared and he shook his head. ‘It were a sad day when he drowned, mistress, an’ no mistake. We was all of us sorry to see the end o’ such a brave one.’
Eve’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Were you with him, then? You saw my husband the night he—he—’
‘Lor’ bless you mistress, ’twas my boat, the Sally-Ann, he used that night. Wanted to get close to a brig that was sailing out o’ Hastings, see?’
‘And what happened?’
‘Oh, we got close, right enough, the cap’n and some of us had already boarded the brig, being friendly-like, and pretending we was interested in taking some o’ their cargo, but the Revenue cutter came up too soon. There was only a donkey’s breath o’ mist and as soon as they spotted her they set up the cry, knowin’ as how they’d been tricked. Set upon us, they did. The cap’n was quick to sound the retreat, got us all safely back on board the Sally-Ann, but one o’ they villains, he levels his pops at the cap’n and shoots him afore he can escape. Killeddead he was. Went over the side without a murmur.’
‘And did you not try to find him, to recover the body?’
‘O’course we did, but there was no sign of him and we had to make sail, for the sea was carryin’ us towards Nore rocks. It were dulling-up by that time and with the brig bristling with guns we decided to make for the shore. The Revenue cutter did give chase, but not long enough.’ The fisherman showed his contempt for their efforts by turning his head to spit. ‘They may’ve scared ’em off for now, but they’ll be back, especially now they knows the cap’n ain’t here to gainsay ’em.’ The fisherman shook his head, and said in a reminiscent tone, ‘Aye, a great one, was Cap’n Wyldfire; allus on the gammock he was, looking for excitement or any sort o’ bobbery. We’ve been watching the beaches every day since then, missus, hopin’ his body would be washed up so we could give ’im a proper Christian burial up at All Saints. And there’s still time. We’ll keep a look-out, don’t ’ee worry.’
‘Thank you.’ Eve opened her purse and took out a handful of coins. ‘Here,’ she said, pressing them into the man’s