Chapter 20

Edited by Old Rotorhead

The wind was chill and northeasterly, not particularly strong, but nevertheless Jake was cursing it whole heartedly. It was foul for leaving Dublin, where the wind was normally between south and west. And there was no tug available. The upshot was that he would have to carry out a manoeuvre that he had only seen once before, or remain where they were. And that was not acceptable.

The tide would turn in about half an hour, the sails were ready to set, and the crew were making the last checks to ensure the ship was ready for sea. What he would have to do was take the ship out into the tide stream so that it would carry them out to sea, but the ship would have to be kept square to the wind, and the sails used to move the ship back and forth to keep it centred on the tide stream. There were all sorts of things that could go wrong, not least the wind dying away.

Jake thought back over the last few days. On the morning after Hermione’s rescue they had gone to the barracks to meet with Colonel Cadogan, Jake with a written report as he had become accustomed to doing. The colonel had given Hermione a more thorough dressing down for her rash behaviour than she had ever received in her life, before complimenting her on her courage and sympathising with the bruising which in some places was quite evident. Jake had had a hard time keeping a straight face through all of this. It had turned out that it was the son and daughter, Hermione’s cousins, who were sympathisers with the Fenians, mainly due to Niamh’s infatuation with Sean Doyle, the man who had been shot by first Hermione, and then by Jake. Cadogan wasn’t sure what would happen to them, but some reckoning would have to be paid. Doyle would of course be hanged. They had been invited to the officers mess that evening where Hermione had been the toast of every officer there, but not until they had made a hasty trip to see Maria O’Brien for a new dress.

“Single up fore and aft,” Jake said to Sam Vimes.

Hermione came on deck.

“We’re off then, Captain,” she said grinning.

“Yes,” Jake’s reply was clipped, the tension showing in his voice.

“Tide’s turned, Captain,” said Vimes.

“Thank you, Mr Vimes, we’ll wait another five, ‘til the flow is full.”

“Aye, sir,” said Vimes, with a smile. He wasn’t concerned, it wasn’t the easiest manoeuvre, but they had a good crew, and he had more confidence in Jake than Jake himself had at that moment.

“Sheet the fore topsails,” Jake ordered, and then as soon as they began to fill, “Let go forrard.”

The bow angled away from the dock.

“Let go aft.”

The aft line splashed into the water and a crew member hauled it on board.

“Hard aport, sheet the main topsail.”

They moved out into the tide stream.

“Let the main tops’l fly, back the fore tops’ls.”

And so it went on for the next fifteen minutes, the sails continually adjusted to move the ship ahead or astern to keep her in the centre of the tide stream.

Jake looked seawards and reckoned it would take another fifteen minutes before they could turn onto a course to take them out to sea. He could see a ship waiting to enter, obviously losing way to give them enough room. He realised it was one of the new steam frigates that the navy was now being equipped with. Well, he thought, steam gives way to sail. He turned his attention back to his own ship.

“Make sail, Mr Vimes.”

“Aye aye, sir!”

The mate issued orders to the crew and ‘Aurora’ was quickly brought under full sail.

“Steer a point south of east, Sam, and thank you. Oh, better salute the Navy too.”

“Right away, Captain,” Sam Vimes grinned.

“Deck, thar!” the lookout called. “Ship coming down the fairway sir!”

A midshipman rushed up to the crow’s nest with a telescope, and almost without stopping came back to the deck.

“She’s athwart the tide, sir, manoeuvring to stay in the stream.”

“Thank you, Mr Bailey,” said Captain James.

He turned to his first lieutenant, “Slow ahead Mr Gray, we’ll just stem the tide, give him plenty of room.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“Can’t imagine he’d be doing that if there was a tug about,” Captain James mused “Isn’t that that Yankee schooner?”

“No sir, I believe she’s the sister ship, ‘Aurora’.”

“Fine piece of ship handling, Mr Gray, although I’m glad we’ve got engines now,” Captain James chuckled, “Oh, she’s saluting. See to the acknowledgement.”

On arrival in Bristol Angelica was aboard as soon as the gangway was in place. She greeted several of the passengers, indicating the cabs that were waiting, either to take them to a hotel or the railway station.

“Lady Russington! Back so soon?” Angelica greeted Hermione.

“Dublin wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be on this occasion,” Hermione replied with a smile.

“Just a spot of bother,” said Jake.

“So that’ll be another tale for you to tell us over dinner then Captain,” said Angelica.

“If you’re very lucky,” Jake replied. “The manifests are below if you want to get started.”

“Aye, Aye, Capt’n Jake,” Angelica giggled and left.

“She’s rather forward for one of your staff isn’t she, Jake?” asked Hermione.

“She is my ward, so she gets the same slack as if she was my little sister,” Jake laughed.

“Oh! I didn’t know,” said Hermione.

“No big deal,” replied Jake, “she’s almost of age anyway. I’ll take you to lunch after I’ve finished here.”

“Pick me up at Victoria’s”

Jake went below where he found Angelica going through the manifests.

“Any problems?”

“Don’t think so ... no,” Angelica replied. “She’s nice.”

“Yes,” said Jake, “she is. How’s Nathaniel?”

“Captain Pook tells me he is making a fine officer, good engineer and deck officer too. Says another couple of trips and he could sit for his masters certificate.”

“That’s good to know. But we really need another skipper for the schooners.”

At that moment Sam Vimes looked in.

“How about you Sam? You ought to make a good skipper,” said Jake.

“Me, sir? And have to manoeuvre out of Dublin like you did? I’m not sure about that, and I don’t know about navigation.”

“You mean calculating the ship’s position, shouldn’t be too difficult to teach you. You know about inshore and pilotage, so why not. Have a think about it, I’m sure Mrs Vimes would appreciate more money.”

“She would indeed, sir,” Sam laughed. “I’ll think about it.”

“Captain Johnson has been badgering me about coming back to work,” said Angelica. “Although why me I’m sure I don’t know.”

“Because, my dear ward, in your position you have the last word about whether the ship sails or not,” Jake told her.

“Me? Surely the Captain,” said Angelica.

“Once his lines are cast off, yes. But up to that point you are the company’s representative,” said Jake, “Mind you, you’d better have a damned good reason.” He laughed. “But he has a broken leg.”

“All strapped up, and he’s got crutches, reckons he can manage,” said Angelica.

“What do you think, Sam?” asked Jake.

“We can put one of those folding chairs on deck for him, sir. Should be fine,” Sam replied.

“See to it,” said Jake and thought for a moment. “Righto, that’s it then, I can retire,”

“I was just getting to like calling you captain, captain,” Angelica grinned.

A week after their last visit Lord Kingswood brought Lady Beatrice to Victoria’s Secrets to collect her new dresses, including, of course, her new ball gown. Between them, Josephine and Myfanwy had produced another tour de force. When Lady Beatrice saw it she was speechless. The girls took her away to try it on, whilst Victoria took her father to her office and had coffee served, where they exchanged pleasantries.

“Forgive me if I intrude, my lord,” Victoria began after a slight lull in the conversation. “but I wonder if you are being perhaps ... a little over protective of Lady Beatrice.”

Lord Kingswood studied her for a moment, and then smiled.

“You may be right, Miss Underwood, but in the circumstances you can hardly blame me,” he said. “And I do enjoy her company. Her mother died some years ago, and she is all I have. Has she said anything to you?”

“No,” said Victoria, “she hasn’t. But I was just thinking that she might like to have a little independence.”

“I shall see to it that she does, and thank you. It isn’t easy and I have to say that the only other person who would say that to me is Hermione,” he smiled. “She has gone off to visit my sister Edith. She’s the Duchess of Skegness and Hermione is her heir. Not to the title of course, primogeniture, and there are no male heirs, so the title will die out. God knows I’ve no interest in negotiating succession to the title, and no male heir of my own to leave it to – though I suppose that might change if I were ever to marry again. But there is a large estate with a dreadful draughty old house. What Hermione would do with the estate I’ve no idea, but we do keep an eye out for any young adventurer who might be after the prize.”

Lord Kingswood was a very shrewd operator, and naturally read Victoria’s reaction to his last comment. He laughed.

“Sir Jacob does not come under that heading,” he said. “Edith has already approved of him, and I concur. We are just waiting for the two of them to decide that we are right.”

“An ideal match,” Victoria smiled. “But we’ll just have to leave them to make their own minds up.”

“The best way...” began Lord Kingswood when the door flew open and his daughter entered with a flourish and a twirl, a wide grin on her face.

“What do you think of this, Papa?”

Josephine and Myfanwy had once again chosen colours that complimented her pale colouring, had cut in simple lines to emphasise her figure with no excessive decoration, and produced something that would stand out in any company. The ball gown was simply superb.

Her father stood looking at her.

“Papa?” her smile began to fade.

“My dear I am speechless. You must be the most beautiful girl in the world! If you wear that dress to a ball you will be on your feet all evening for every dance.”

She almost flew into her father’s arms.

“I am so lucky,” she said, “to be surrounded by such lovely people. Especially my wonderful Papa!”

Jake saw Hermione off at the station on her way first to London, and then to answer a summons from her aunt to attend her at her home on the east coast. The Duchess never ‘invited’.

“I suppose you have another woman who will occupy your time. And me ruined because you slept with me.”

“Slept with you?” Jake exclaimed. “As I recall it was you who came and slept with me.”

“I needed someone to comfort me, after I’d been shot at and...”

“And nothing happened. As I recall you were the one doing the shooting.”

“Only because you weren’t there to protect me.”

“Well, I’m sure of one thing I do know,” said Jake, “and that is the best place to stand when you’ve a gun in your hand is behind you. I take it that you are keeping the Derringer?”

“I’d feel naked without it,” she hitch up her skirt to show it in the top of her boot.

“Now there’s a picture to contemplate,” said Jake, grinning.

It was just as well that they were in the privacy of her compartment when she kissed him in no uncertain fashion.

“I’ll be back.” she said when she broke away.

Jake stood on the platform and waved her off. He didn’t believe that her aunt really approved of him, but she was fun to be with. Well, when he wasn’t rescuing her.

A couple of weeks later Victoria was getting things sorted out for her trip to Paris. Gina was going with her, she wondered what Paris would make of Gina, and she had decided that she would take Josephine as well as Myfanwy. They worked well together, and whilst she appreciated that Josephine had a relationship with Nerissa, she felt that Josephine’s future as a designer and with the business was more important. It turned out that the relationship had almost run its course and neither Josephine nor Nerissa were too unhappy about it.

Naturally the two girls were cock a hoop, a real life adventure. Myfanwy had been practising her schoolgirl French with Josephine who had a fair knowledge of the language, albeit with peculiarities in pronunciation that would lead to some amusement in Paris.

Victoria was so busy with all that was entailed that she was surprised when Becky showed a uniformed footman into her office. He presented her with an envelope and said that he would wait for an answer. Victoria slit the envelope open and read the enclosed letter. It was an invitation to Lord Kingswood’s house for supper that evening.

Victoria took a sheet of paper and wrote out her acceptance and handed it to the footman.

“Thank you, madam,” he said. “The carriage will pick you up at six o’clock if that is convenient.”

Victoria agreed that it was, whilst her mind was running through her wardrobe to consider which dress she would wear.

Victoria was home a lot earlier than she normally would be to make sure that she had sufficient time to get herself ready for the evening.

“You are early,” Victoria’s mother greeted her. “You are not unwell I hope?”

“No Mama, I am fine. I have an invitation to supper this evening.”

“That is unusual Victoria. May I enquire with whom?

“Indeed you may, Mama,” Victoria laughed. “Lord Kingswood and his daughter Lady Beatrice. They are sending a carriage for me.”

“My goodness, you are moving in high circles. He is a widower, is he not? And his daughter was the girl that Jake rescued.”

“Yes, Mama, but I don’t think he has any intentions towards me. It will be a thank you for his daughter’s ball gown, although it was Josephine and Myfanwy who deserve the credit for that. Besides’ he is rather older than me.”

“And no harm in that!” said her mother. “I think it is no more than twelve or fifteen years from memory, ideal. And it’s about time you settled down.”

“Yes Mama,” Victoria sighed. They had been through this before. “Now I must get ready.”

The carriage turned out to be a closed coach for which Victoria was very grateful, the weather was threatening rain. When she arrived at Lord Kingswood’s house Bea came rushing out to greet her.

“Oh, I’m so glad you could come! I wore the dress to a ball at the Duke of Bristol’s! It was wonderful, and everyone wanted to know who had made it, and I had to say it was by some dear friends and they were so jealous! I danced every dance!” Bea spoke in a series of exclamations.

“Come in, come in,” she went on. “Papa is rarely at home in the evenings and I thought this would be a really good opportunity to...” Bea started to blush.

“Oh Bea,” said Victoria. “You’ve been a naughty girl, haven’t you?”

“I, well I thought that you ... and papa... “ she sniffed. “He misses mama I know, and I’m just his daughter, and you’ve taught me...”

“Far too much it seems,” said Victoria.

“Don’t be cross,” Bea’s face crumpled. “I just thought you and papa would be ... well you’d be my mama, and everything would be wonderful. Papa would be happy and I could have little brothers and sisters.”

“Oh dear me! I’m not sure about that at all,” said Victoria, fanning herself. “However, I’m here now, so let’s see how the evening unfolds, shall we?”

“You’re not cross?”

“Well, not very cross. But you shouldn’t try playing matchmaker until you are much older. And preferably not even then.”

“I’ll try not to, Victoria.”

They went on to discuss other topics. Lord Kingswood found them engrossed in a conversation about Victoria’s upcoming visit to Paris.

“Good evening Miss Underwood.”

“Your Lordship,” Victoria replied.

“Did I hear you discussing Paris?” he asked.

“Yes, I have to take two of my girls over to spend a few months and bring two others back, Major Humble’s twin daughters. We have a connection with Maison Pamplemousse.”

“Indeed,” said Lord Kingswood. “Should you discover anything that might be of interest to Her Majesty’s Government, I trust you will tell me.”

“I hardly think that haute couture would produce anything of consequence to report,” Victoria replied.

“You might be surprised, my dear. You might indeed.”

The butler appeared.

“And now,” Lord Kingswood said, “supper is served, and it is good of you to join us.”

Supper was excellent, and the wines served were very fine. One, Victoria noted, was imported by Underwoods. Just before pudding was served Beatrice asked if she could be excused for a moment.

“It is very good of you to look after my daughter,” Lord Kingswood told Victoria. “Since you are on first name terms with her, would it be in order for me to call you Victoria?”

“Why yes, my Lord,” Victoria replied.

“And I should be pleased if you would call me Peter,” said Lord Kingswood,

“This evening I’m afraid there has been a small misunderstanding. Bea invited me here because she...” she paused.

“Ah! My daughter is matchmaking!” Lord Kingswood laughed. “I should have guessed.”

“And so should I,” said Victoria, “but the invitation appeared to come from you.”

“I shall have to have a word with her. She should not embarrass you in that way.”

“Please don’t. I have already told her that she should not do that kind of thing, I think she has appreciated the lesson.”

“You act like a mother to her! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have put it that way. I married rather young, well, we both were, and it wasn’t until recent years when I have had to recruit women to assist me that I realised that I greatly admire women who are strong and independent. Mary Kelly is one such, and Hermione is another. Both are prepared to, shall we say, put their heads in the lion’s mouth; but you Victoria, are rather different. You are taking on the whole establishment. And you appear to be winning.”

“Jake has had a lot to do with that,” said Victoria.

“Of course, but still ... You know I honestly never thought of you in any other way than as someone who has become a friend and mentor to my daughter. Until the last few minutes.” He twirled his glass and took a sip. “I am not often lost for words. Could I just say that I should like to meet with you again, say when you return from Paris?”

“I should like that, Peter,” Victoria replied. “But like you, I hadn’t considered anything beyond...”

At this moment Bea returned.

Ten days after seeing Hermione off on the train Jake was sitting in his office wondering what to do next. One of the things about a well run business, as he had noted before, is that the man at the top has nothing to do. Well, of course, that isn’t strictly true, but there are times when you sit and watch as things develop, ready to jump in and sort out problems as they arise. And since everything was running smoothly Jake was bored. He would almost have welcomed a visit from Mr Hatherley!

Dennis came in with a couple of letters that were addressed to him personally. Jake took them from him.

“Everything running smoothly, Dennis?” he asked.

“As smoothly as it was when you asked first thing this morning, sir,” Dennis grinned, he knew his boss very well.

Jake looked at the letters, both in a feminine hand, and he knew the first one was from Amelia, he recognised her handwriting. He opened it and read: She had reached Paris, where Mary’s knowledge of French was very useful, and would be proceeding south within a few days. From what she wrote it was apparent that Mary was as much companion as maid and they were enjoying seeing all the sights, and the greeting and the tone showed her fondness for Jake.

The handwriting on second letter was unfamiliar, and Jake turned it over to see that it was from Hermione. He opened it. The letter commenced ‘Dear Sir Jacob’ which was odd, and thanked him for the comfortable passage on ‘Moonfleet’. It was signed Lady Hermione Russington.

Well that, he thought was damned strange, he felt sure that their relationship had progressed well beyond that, or perhaps her aunt really didn’t approve of him and she was telling him so in an informal manner. Still ... he put the letter down. With Victoria away, perhaps he should go and see how the workshop was going on.

It was good for everyone to see his face, a visit to show the flag as it were, but everyone was working according to plan, and if he stayed he would only interrupt things. His next visit was to the shop. Here Becky was in charge and everything was in order, but not so busy that she couldn’t spare him a few minutes.

“We’re up to date on everything,” she told him. “We don’t have any problems, but it is good to see you, sir.”

She smiled invitingly and Jake decided that it was best to beat a retreat, so he went to see Nerissa.

“Good morning, Sir Jacob,” she greeted him brightly. “How was your spell as captain of ‘Aurora’?”

Jake looked at her.

“Is something wrong, sir?”

“Yes,” said Jake, “I think there may well be, and you have just told me what. Hermione said ‘Moonfleet’, and she well knows the difference. I’m sorry, I must go.”

Jake hurried out leaving a very perplexed Nerissa behind. She shook her head, men could be so strange she thought, and went back to work.

Jake’s next call was at his bank where he was informed by a clerk that Lord Kingswood was believed to be in London.

He took a cab back to his office, picked up Hermione’s letter and told a grinning Dennis that he was away for a day or two, and then on home to pick up a valise with a clean shirt and his revolver. Then it was on to the railway station and the express to London.

It was late afternoon by the time Jake arrived at Lord Kingswood’s office, the Great Western Railway having had problems maintaining the schedule. The clerk immediately recognised Jake and conducted him to His Lordship’s office.

“Good Afternoon, Sir Jacob,” Lord Kingswood greeted him. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Good afternoon, Your Lordship. I’ve received a letter from Hermione,” said Jake, passing the letter to Lord Kingswood.

“If she has finally agreed to your suit, m’boy,” he smiled, “you need to deal with her aunt, not me.”

He opened the letter and read the brief message.

“Ah, I see, anything but. Well, I don’t know how I can help you. She seems to be informally telling you not to bother. A surprise. Edith, The duchess is my sister you realise, has expressed her satisfaction with you.”

“The tone did come as a surprise, we had become...” Jake searched for the right words, “well we had reached the point where I would have expected that a proposal of marriage would have been accepted. And if what you say is the case then it makes the tone even more odd. But that is not my point. She thanks me for the trip on ‘Moonfleet’, but it wasn’t ‘Moonfleet’, it was ‘Aurora’, and I cannot imagine she would make a mistake like that. I think she is in trouble, sir. Somehow she has been allowed to write a letter, and the tone and error are an attempt to warn me.”