Playing with Fire (12 page)

The disturbance overhead penetrated Martin’s private world, and he stirred, muttering something unintelligible. His eyelids fluttered, and for a split second she saw his eyes, but then they closed again. Hope sprang through her, and she quickly got up to hurry into the washroom. There she dipped a cloth into the bowl of water that was kept there, then hurried back to dab it gently to his forehead. She was only too aware that his life was hanging by a thread, and she was desperately afraid he would cease the struggle long before England’s shores were reached.

The ship’s surgeon, Mr. Cathcart, a man hardened by many a sea battle, held out little hope, even going so far as to declare that it would be kinder to let the injured man fade away. But Tansy would not hear of such a terrible thing. Nothing would persuade her to give up on Martin, and she remained at his side as much as possible, often going without sleep herself because she was so distraught about him. So this was love, she thought as she gazed down at him. The emotions kindled that first moment at Tel el-Osorkon had strengthened inexorably, binding her to him more and more until now there was no going back to the innocent, uncomplicated Tansy Richardson who had set out from Constantinople.

This man had captured her heart completely, and while it was in his possession she was no longer her own woman. Tears stung her eyes as she continued to pat the cool cloth to his skin.

There was a tap at the cabin door. “Yes?”

“It’s Mr. Pettigrew, Miss Tansy. I’m due on deck in five minutes, but I thought you’d like a mug of hot, sweet tea.”

She smiled, having quickly come to like the
Lucina’s
boatswain. “Please come in, Mr. Pettigrew.”

The door opened, and he stepped inside with the mug. He was a craggy man of about fifty, with great bushy eyebrows and a bulbous nose that was as red from navy rum as the blast of wind off the sea. “It may not be the finest Pekoe, miss, but it will do you good,” he declared as he pressed the mug into her hands. “How is the lieutenant?” he asked then, taking the cloth from her to apply it to Martin’s forehead with a surprisingly gentle touch.

“I thought he was going to come around a few moments ago, but there is no real change, I fear,” she replied, sipping the tea gratefully. She did not as a rule enjoy sweet tea, but right now it had an agreeably restorative effect.

“Just like the Frenchies to shoot a brave English fellow from behind,” the boatswain muttered.

“I think they were very angry that we stole their antiquities.”

“Which they stole from someone else in the first place,” he pointed out.

“True.”

Mr. Pettigrew looked at her. “You really should get some sleep, miss. Mrs. Entwhistle will gladly take your place; she said I was to tell you so.” It was noticeable that he made no mention of Amanda. That young lady was at the moment getting in the way on deck, but received no chastisement because she fluttered her eyelashes at the ship’s officers. Even strict Captain Castleton was inclined to indulge her.

“Mrs. Entwhistle is kind, but I’d rather stay here,” Tansy said.

The weathered sailor looked shrewdly at her. “Well, the lieutenant is a handsome devil, is he not?” he said kindly. “Don’t look so embarrassed, Miss Tansy. I have daughters of my own, and I have been around long enough to observe such things. Lieutenant Ballard is more to you than just an injured man who needs nursing. And on that account he is very fortunate.” He bent to stroke Cleo, who got to her feet and nuzzled his hand. “Do not fear that my tongue will clack to all and sundry, for Uriah Pettigrew knows when to keep his mouth shut.”

Tansy smiled. “I’m sure he does, sir.”

“The lieutenant is a strange one. This is his last voyage, and he’ll be a great loss to the navy, for there’s no better intelligence-gathering officer. He’s a very popular fellow, and no mistake, yet at the same time he’s what might be termed an outsider.”

Tansy looked at him in puzzlement. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s not one of the others. You’d never find him drinking and laughing with his fellow officers in the gun room. While they are socializing, and most likely imbibing too much, he’ll be out on deck gazing at the horizon, or in here reading some foreign book or other. A man of many tongues is Lieutenant Ballard.”

“Yes, that I do know about him.”

“You do? Then he’s confided more to you than to most. I’m just about the only man on the
Lucina
who knows anything about him, yet for all his reticence, he’s very well liked. You won’t come across his name at any fancy London gathering, almost as if his background’s too lowly for that, yet no one looks down his nose at him. The likes of Admiral Nelson and Sir Sidney Smith will happily sit down to dine with him. He’s a mystery, and no mistake.” The boatswain dabbed Martin’s forehead again, assisted by Cleo, who continued to rub against his arm.

Tansy gazed at Martin’s face, and the bandage that was once again slightly stained with blood. “He told me he was brought up on Minorca,” she said.

“Did he now? Well, I didn’t know that. There’s no fellow on this earth I’d rather have at my side in battle. I’d trust him with my life, as would every man jack onboard this ship. I cannot speak too highly of our first lieutenant, and if he dies from a bullet fired from behind, it will be a great crime the French have committed.”

Tansy swallowed. “Mr. Pettigrew, do…. Do you think he will survive?”

He put a quick hand on her shoulder, then hastily removed it again. “I don’t know, Miss Tansy. If there’s any justice, then he will.”

“Mr. Cathcart doesn’t think so.”

“Mr. Cathcart is as hard as nails. He’s had to be. These are bad times, miss, and when a ship is on active service, the surgeon can’t allow sentiment to come before expediency. It’s no good having a hold full of badly wounded men who’ll be an age—if ever—recuperating. They’re a liability.”

“Is Lieutenant Ballard regarded as a liability?” she asked.

The boatswain smiled and shook his head. “No, miss, for he has you to look after him. If you’re strong on his behalf, I think he’ll see England safely.”

“I suppose there is a naval hospital of some sort at Portsmouth?”

“Yes, across the harbor at Haslar, miss, although Portsmouth is no longer the lieutenant’s destination. Didn’t you know?”

“Know what?”

“That Mrs. Entwhistle suggested to the captain that when we sight England, it might be better for the lieutenant if you and he are put ashore at Chelworth, which we will reach before Portsmouth. She believes, and Captain Castleton is in complete agreement, that the quiet of a country estate would be more beneficial than the noise and undoubted crush of a large and busy hospital such as Haslar.”

Tansy stared at him. “Am I to understand that just the lieutenant and I are to land at Chelworth?”

“Yes, miss.”

“But…why?” What of Amanda and Hermione?

The boatswain cleared his throat. “Well, miss, it seems that your cousin wishes to go on to Portsmouth; in fact she is insisting upon it. Mrs. Entwhistle tried to reason her out of it, but then said that she too would continue to Portsmouth, in order to be your cousin’s chaperone. It was felt that once you were at Chelworth, you would be safe under your uncle’s protection.”

Tansy could have hugged the boatswain for imparting such news, but most of all she could have hugged Hermione for suggesting the stop at Chelworth. She would see more of Martin after all! And for a while at least, there would be no Amanda, who was determined to go to Portsmouth simply to meet the royal personage who was to board the frigate for the voyage to Canada. Until now Tansy had resigned herself to parting from Martin at the hospital in Portsmouth. Of course, it was all assuming he survived the voyage from Gibraltar anyway….

Mr. Pettigrew was thinking about Amanda, and after a moment simply had to speak his mind. “Begging your pardon for saying this, Miss Tansy, but your cousin is a hard young woman, full of herself and no one else. She created a great scene when she heard of the suggestion about stopping first at Chelworth. You see, she thought she would have to go ashore too, and that did not suit her at all. She began to insist that the lieutenant belonged at Haslar, until Mrs. Entwhistle declared that she would go on to Portsmouth too. I know I should not express an opinion, Miss Tansy, but Miss Amanda is the most unamiable creature it has ever been my misfortune to meet. She looks like an angel, but she has the character of a gargoyle.”

The frank criticism came so out of the blue that Tansy found herself choking back her first laugh since Martin’s wounding. “Mr. Pettigrew, you are full of surprises!” A gargoyle? Yes, that was indeed a good description of Amanda!

There was more noise overhead, and the boatswain gave a gasp. “I should be up there now! Captain Castleton will nail my hide to the mainmast!” He scooped a rather surprised Cleo from the bed. “Come on, cat, you can earn your keep. No ship is without rats, four legged
and
human.” With that he left to return to his duties.

Tansy finished the tea, then set the mug aside. Martin continued to be disturbed now and then by the ever-increasing noise overhead, but just as a chantey rang out for the hauling of the anchors, he lay very still indeed. Too still. Tansy leaned forward anxiously. “Martin?” Oh, how easily his first name slipped from her lips at a time like this; were he to open his eyes and know her, she would call him Lieutenant Ballard….

Suddenly his eyes did open, but they were sadly changed from the bright, penetrating brown gaze of before; now they were dull and almost lifeless, seeming to see and yet not see at the same time. A frown creased his forehead as he tried to focus. “Amanda…?” he whispered.

She tried not to show her hurt. “No, it’s Tansy.”

His gaze became more aware. “Ah, yes….”

In the midst of her joy that he was sentient again, Tansy’s heart was wrenched at his palpable disappointment on realizing it was the Church Mouse in attendance. “How are you?” she asked.

The ghost of a smile reached his lips. “I have no idea.”

Quickly she went to pour him a glass of water from the jug in the washroom, then supported his head with her arm and put the glass to his parched lips. “Here, drink if you can,” she said.

He struggled to do as she asked, but sipped only a little before giving up. He grimaced with pain and tried to put a hand to the bandage, but she prevented him. “Don’t. You’ve been wounded.”

He tried to remember, but couldn’t. He looked around. “Am…. Am I on the
Lucina?”
he asked then.

“Yes. We’re about to leave Gibraltar for England.”

He grimaced again. “Dear God above, my head….”

“Mr. Cathcart says he will give you laudanum for the pain. I’ll find him now, for he was most insistent that he was to be summoned the moment you came around.” She hurried out to find the surgeon, but as she hastened past the red-coated marine the captain had placed on guard at the cabin door, she almost cannoned into Amanda, whose lovely face immediately assumed a cross expression.

“Oh, good heavens, Tansy,
must
you gallop around like a horse?” she snapped.

“I’m sorry, Amanda, it’s just that the lieutenant has awoken, and I must find Mr. Cathcart!” Without pausing to say more, Tansy ran through the gun room to the hatchway that led to the upper deck.

A sly glint slid into Amanda’s eyes, and as soon as Tansy had gone, she flicked her skirts aside to pass the marine into Martin’s cabin. She closed the door carefully behind her, then went to the chair by the bed.

Martin’s eyes were closed as she took Tansy’s place, then enclosed one of his hands in both hers. “Lieutenant Ballard? Martin…?” she whispered. He looked at her, recognition lightening his gaze, and she gave him one of her most bewitching smiles. “Oh, I’m
so
glad you know me. I’ve been sitting here beside you day and night….”

“You have?”

“Can you doubt it?”

“But, I…. I thought your cousin….”

“Oh, Tansy came in for a short while. I’ve sent her to bring Mr. Cathcart.” Skillful tears filled Amanda’s wonderful cornflower eyes. “Oh, I’ve been so distraught about you. You’ll never know how deeply I….”

“Yes?”

“How deeply I feel for you.” She stretched forward to put her cool lips to his, but drew back just as footsteps sounded outside the door.

It was sunset, and the
Lucina
was making excellent speed before a brisk wind. In spite of the cold of the February air, Tansy was out on deck with Cleo in her arms. The men on duty had much to attend to, so no one took any notice of her as she stood between the signal-flag lockers at the stern, gazing past the fluttering ensign at the frigate’s foaming wake. Another rhythmic chantey was being sung as more sail was hoisted, and sailors ran along the deck as Mr. Pettigrew’s whistle blew for the next watch.

Cleo nestled cozily beneath Tansy’s cloak and peeped out nervously from time to time as the frigate forged through the white-topped waves. The sun was sinking in a glorious blaze of crimson and gold, there was spray in the air, and the sails cracked and strained overhead. It was a blessed relief from dinner in Captain Castleton’s dining room, where all the ship’s officers had joined the ladies. Amanda’s brittle laughter, coy attitudes, and slyly manipulative conversation had become a little too much for Tansy to stomach, so she had come outside.

She drew a long breath. Amanda was truly awful in every way, yet fate had seen fit to bestow a glowing future upon her. What future lay in wait for Tansy Richardson? “What’s to become of me, Cleo?” Tansy murmured. It all depended on Uncle Julian. Would he offer his penniless niece a roof over her head? If he didn’t, if he found such a prospect quite abhorrent—which as a bachelor might well prove the case—what then? Becoming a lady’s companion was all very well, provided the lady was a lady, but what if she were another Amanda?

Another Amanda? Surely there could not be two such horrid creatures? Tansy blinked back tears, recalling the moment she had taken Mr. Cathcart back to Martin’s cabin, only to find her lovely cousin leaning affectionately over the bed. Amanda had drawn swiftly back, her cheeks flushed and her sweet lips parted on a silent gasp, as if she had been caught in an indiscretion. But there had been a calculating light in her cornflower eyes and something very artful in the way she’d released Martin’s hand, unlinking her fingers just slowly enough to be sure the Church Mouse was under no illusion about the interrupted intimacy. Amanda had been reasserting her spell over him, and she must have been most gratified that he had been gazing up at her as Tansy entered.