Mrs. McVinnie's London Season (6 page)

The boy closed the
window, moving silently and swiftly. He glanced at Clare sleeping
in Jeannie’s bed and then looked over at Jeannie.

“
Are
you that woman who came to fix Larinda’s dress?”

“
I am.
And I’m leaving in the morning.”

He sat down at the foot
of the bed and leaned forward impulsively. “Oh, I wish you would
not! I hear Larinda practically did a Saint Vitus dance when you
told her to say ‘please.’ I should like to have seen that.”

Jeannie shook her head.
“Don’t remind me. I shall do all within my power to forget this
night ever happened. But tell me, Edward, why the window? And
Vauxhall Gardens?”

He was silent a moment,
looking at her as if he wondered if he could trust her.

Jeannie crossed her
heart and held up her hand. “Cross my heart and hope to die,
Edward.” She could almost feel him relax.

“
I
never saw a woman do that,” he declared. “You see, I can climb up
the tree outside the window and get in without anyone knowing I
have been gone.”

Jeannie could only gape
at him and wonder. He was not a tall boy. In fact, he appeared
rather small for his age. His shoulders were narrow, his face thin,
the moon’s shadows digging holes in his cheeks.

“
Vauxhall Gardens?” she gently reminded him. “Surely such a
place, and by yourself—”

“
I
only went to watch the Grand Cascade,” he said, the note of
defiance in his voice ameliorated by the fact that he whispered.
“My guidebook describes it as an educational event and one of the
wonders of George’s England. I merely wanted to see it.” He sighed.
“Aunt Agatha would never let me be among all those people, even
though I tell her and tell her that when the Season is over we’ll
be back in Suffolk and I will have nothing to show for
it.”

Jeannie understood. She
leaned closer to the boy in the dark. ‘‘And your aunt is afraid you
will take ill?”

“
Exactly so,” Edward replied. “She is afraid that I will catch
a cold, or get too warm, or have too much fun, I declare! Just
because my wretched uncle never had a well moment …” He
plucked at the bedcover in his agitation and Clare stirred and
muttered in her sleep.

Jeannie touched the
sleeping child until she was still again. “Oh, Edward,” she said,
“surely not.”

He was only warming to
his subject. “Who is to know when we will ever be in London again
after Larinda’s Season?” He sighed again. “And Aunt Agatha says I
will probably not live to be very old.”

“
Monstrous,” Jeannie exclaimed.

Clare moved restlessly
in her sleep.

“
My
health is indifferent,” he said, in halfhearted defense of his
aunt. His voice was level, monotonous, his words bearing a
rehearsed sound to them.

“
I
doubt that,” Jeannie said. “Particularly if you can climb that tree
outside the window.” She got out of bed and went to the window and
looked down. “Why, it must be all of thirty feet to the
ground.”

“
I
never thought of it like that,” Edward said. “But I do get
headaches, and tire easily, and my stomach is weak. Aunt Agatha
says so.”

They regarded each
other in silence. Edward stood up finally and put his hands behind
his back. “I had better go now,” he whispered. “I hope you won’t
say anything. As it is, I look through my guidebook every day and
plan all sorts of adventures.” He looked down at the floor.
“Usually, that’s all it is, I just plan. But I did want to see the
Grand Cascade.”

His words twisted
Jeannie’s heart into a lump that threatened to rise into her
throat. She waited a moment before she could speak. “That must be
an excellent guidebook,” she managed finally. “Perhaps you could
show it to me in the morning. Before I leave, that is.”

“
Oh,
yes. I am planning tomorrow to study the section on the Tower of
London.” He looked up at her shyly. “I think it must be almost as
good as being there. But you won’t tell?”

“
Cross
my heart, Edward.”

He grinned and stuck
out his hand; Jeannie shook it solemnly. “Actually, I was thinking
about running away. You see, the Deardens and my mama and Uncle
Will were at Vauxhall Gardens tonight. I did not expect them there.
I think Uncle Will saw me. Do you think I should run away?” he
asked as he backed toward the door. “Uncle Will did, time and time
again, my aunt says, and he is a captain. Should I run away?”

“
Of
course not! Running away never solves anything,” Jeannie said, and
then had the good grace to blush. She was running away as fast as
she could in the morning. But what a pity she could not take Edward
with her. “Now, run along to bed before your aunt and uncle return.
Think of the trouble you would be in if someone found you
here.”

Edward nodded, opened
the door, and tumbled into Captain Summers’ arms.

“
Good
heavens!” Jeannie said.

Captain Summers held
Edward out at arm’s length. The boy had gone quite pale.

“
I
thought I heard someone talking.”

Summers lifted Edward
off the ground and looked him directly in the eyes. “You were at
Vauxhall Gardens tonight, you little wharf rat, weren’t you?”

Bereft of speech,
Edward could only nod.

Terrified, Jeannie
looked at the captain and beyond him. She could hear people coming
up the stairs. She put her hand on the captain’s arm and tugged on
his sleeve like a little child. “Oh, please, sir, if his aunt
catches him, think of the trouble.”

She couldn’t be sure,
but she thought she saw that little twinkle in the captain’s eyes
again. He set Edward on his feet, turned him about, and pushed him
in the direction of his own room.

“
Run,
boy! You and I will settle this in the morning. And now, Miss
McVinnie—or whoever you claim to be at this hour—I also have no
desire to be caught standing in this companionway. Kindly step
aside and close the door, for God’s sake.”

Smiling in spite of
herself, Jeannie did as he said and closed the door behind
them.

“
This
is highly irregular,” she said finally when Larinda and her aunt
walked down the hall, stood arguing for a moment, and then slammed
the doors to their own rooms.

The captain did not
reply. Jeannie looked around. He was standing by her bed, looking
down on Clare, who lay in peaceful sleep, her hands flung wide
across the pillows, her curly hair tumbled about her face. As
Jeannie watched, he carefully pulled the hair away from her mouth
and touched her cheek with the back of his hand. He stood there a
moment more and then directed his gaze at her again.

“
Well?
What is this?”

“
Captain, she was crying, and that harridan of a nursemaid
wouldn’t do a thing about it.”

“
You
certainly are a managing female,” he said, and then straightened up
until he was poker-stiff again. “My sister tells me that children
should not be indulged.”

“
Your
sister is a fool,” Jeannie snapped. She gasped and put her hand to
her mouth. “Oh, I do apologize.”

The captain touched
Clare’s cheek again. “No need. You are exactly right.” He came
closer to her. “Are you beginning to understand why I summoned
Jeannie McVinnie?” He bowed. “And you are Jeannie McVinnie. Pringle
met me at the door with the glad tiding.” He bowed again. “I can
only regret my rudeness, but you must own, Mrs. McVinnie, that I
was expecting someone rather more stricken in years.”

“
I
can’t help that,” she said sensibly. “And I will not stay in this
house beyond tomorrow morning.”

Summers went to the
door and opened it. “A wise choice. I wouldn’t stay here either, if
I weren’t under the damnedest set of orders from the First Lord of
the Admiralty, who, I regret to say, is the little brother of my
sister’s late husband. Lord Smeath was only too happy to summon me
from the blockade to oblige his sister-in-law. That way he doesn’t
have to play the escort.”

He stepped into the
hall. ‘‘So, you see, I have no choice, Mrs. McVinnie.” He came back
into the room. “The way is clear. If you will permit me. ” He went
to the bed and picked up Clare, who stiffened for a moment and then
relaxed against his shoulder. He smiled at her and then looked
Jeannie in the eyes. “Yes, I can smile.”

“
I
wasn’t thinking that,” Jeannie faltered.

“
Oh,
yes, you were.” He came closer and whispered in her ear. “It’s just
that I don’t waste them, Mrs. McVinnie. Good night.”

“
Good
night,” she said softly. A sudden thought assailed her. “But tell
me, Captain, is—”

“
Clare
my daughter?” he finished. “She might be.”

“
But …” Jeannie followed him down the hall to Clare’s
room. She opened the door for him and turned back the covers while
he settled the child in bed and then kissed her good
night.

The captain stood
looking down at Clare for several moments. He idly fingered the
Grand Cross of Bath on his chest, his thoughts miles removed from
Wendover Square.

Jeannie knew he had
forgotten she was in the room, so she turned to go.

He was at her side in a
moment. “It’s a long story, Mrs. McVinnie,” he said as he escorted
her back to her room again. “But look, I think the sun will be
coming up soon, and didn’t you say you had to be leaving?”

“
Well,
I did,” she began.

“
Then
do not let me disturb one more moment of your slumber,” he
continued affably. “Good night.”

“
You
are aggravating beyond belief,” Jeannie said.

“
I
have four lieutenants, a surgeon, and—oh, let me see—six midshipmen
and any number of rated seamen under my thumb who would agree with
you entirely,” he said. “I wonder why they have never told
me.”

“
You
would probably flog them and make them walk the plank,” Jeannie
declared, stung to an angry retort that she knew was improper the
moment it left her lips.

The captain reached
down and put his finger to her lips. “Hush now! By the good Lord,
you do remind me of the Jeannie McVinnie I knew.”

She started to say
something, but he did not remove his finger.

“
That’s better. You’ll wake my charming sister if you continue
railing at me, and that, you’ll agree, would be an ugly business.
Go to bed, Mrs. McVinnie. Hush now! And do try to overlook the fact
that although we will miss you greatly after tomorrow, we will
manage somehow.”

T
he rain was long over by the time she woke in the
morning, and she felt unaccountably refreshed by the puny hours of
sleep granted her. Jeannie went to the window and pulled back the
draperies. Perching herself on the window seat that looked out onto
Wendover Square, she opened the window, rested her elbows on the
sill, and let the day happen.

Up and down the street,
maids were sweeping the front walks, and pushcart men walked slowly
by, selling milk, pasties, and promises that their pans would never
need a tinker’s mending. She watched footmen striding purposefully
from their employers’ mansions, intent on early-morning errands and
full to bursting with self-importance. Grooms walked their horses
up and down in the square, waiting for their masters to fork a leg
over and take a pre-breakfast canter in one of the great royal
parks that made this part of London so much more pleasant than the
crowded, smoke-foggy rabbit warren that was the City.

Jeannie rested her chin
on her hand. At home, after she had flung up the window sash, she
would have taken a deep, deep breath. Here there would be no smell
of the sea, no pleasant tang of heather or Scotch broom to delight
the eye. But she had to own that while the air was scarcely as
promising, London held a vast potential for interest that
Kirkcudbright could never command.

She reminded herself
that she was leaving. She would spend a few moments with the
captain, apologize to him one more time for good measure, pack her
bags again, and hitch them onto the next mail coach venturing up
the Great North Road. Somehow, the thought was less appealing than
it had been last night, when she had quaked in her boots and sewed
on the captain’s button.

“
It is
merely that you do not relish the thought of another trip on the
mail,” she told herself. She knew she had enough funds to hire a
post chaise, but Jeannie McVinnie wasn’t a Scot for
nothing.

The air that breezed in
through the open window was still tinged with a hint of winter. She
closed it and jumped back in bed, grateful for the warmth. It would
be so easy to close her eyes and drift off into sleep again, if
there weren’t the nagging matter of making a graceful exit from
this house and its less-than-amiable inmates.

Her thoughts were
distracted by a scratching at the door. “Come in, please.”

“
Mrs.
McVinnie, will you be wanting some hot water?”

“
That
would be delightful. Please do come in.”

The maid entered the
room and set the can of hot water on the washstand. She curtsied.
“I can bring you some tea, mum, if you’d like.”

Jeannie was about to
answer when another head peeked around the corner of the door.
Clare, still dressed in her nightgown, regarded her seriously for a
moment, finger in mouth, and then edged inside the room to rest
against the wall. Jeannie held out her arms. Clare hesitated a
moment, then hurled herself across the room and scrambled up on the
bed.