Her Heart's Captain (24 page)

He laughed. “I've never sold a sketch in my life. Please take it as a gift.”

She shook her head. “My dear boy, if you are to be an artist, you must learn at once that your work is not to be given away. I know a bit of the world, and I'll tell you one indisputable fact about dealing with patrons of the arts: the more you demand for your work, the greater will be your reputation among them. Now, when I ask you again if this drawing is for sale, you will say, ‘For you, ma'am, because you so admire it, one hundred pounds.'”

Toby gawked. “
One hundred
—?”

“Done!” She grinned up at him. “I shall have my man send you a note as soon as I return to London. Do you suppose you might let me take the sketch with me?”

“With the greatest pleasure, my lady,” Toby assured her, overwhelmed. He ripped the sheet from the pad and handed it to her. “You've given me the feeling that I may yet make something of my life.”

“I shouldn't be at all surprised,” Lady Rowcliffe said, studying the drawing with a smile. “If you
do
come to London, young man, be sure to call on me. I shall show this to Henry Fuseli, who, though he is an eccentric and rather dreadful old man, is a fine artist and an acquaintance of mine. If he sees promise in this—and I suspect he will—he may take you on as a pupil.”

She remained staring at the portrait after Toby Boyce had taken his leave. The girl the young artist had caught with his charcoals was too special to put aside. She had badly misjudged her son, but Lady Rowcliffe was not as unlike Admiral Nelson as her son supposed. She would not give up the battle either. She held the picture up to the light and smiled at it. The girl was still young. There was time for her to learn …

So the famous visitors departed, and several of the inhabitants of Wyndham were left battered in their wake. At both Clement Hall and Willowrise, the devastation was complete. Both houses were as quiet as if in mourning. No visits were exchanged, no outings were arranged and no messages passed between them.

At the vicarage, Toby was basking in the unfamiliar light of parental approbation. Ever since he'd told his parents about the sale of his drawing for one hundred pounds, they'd gaped at their son with new-born respect. “
One hundred pounds?
” his mother asked over and over. “Amazin'! And for a drawin' that took less than four hours to complete. It's the most astoundin' pass ever t' befall this house.”

“Told you I could draw,” Toby bragged shamelessly.

“So you did,” the vicar said, shaking his head bewilderedly. “I had no idea that a drawing could command such a sum as that.”

“We ought t' send the lad t' London for study, just as he's always asked us t' do,” his mother murmured as she sat posed before the fire while her son sketched her face, having been given permission to do her likeness for the first time in his life.

“Mmmm,” the father mused, watching over his son's shoulder as his wife's features began to be recognizable on the paper. “Perhaps we should.”

Toby, looked from one to the other in pleased surprise, but soon his expression changed to a thoughtful frown. “But no … I couldn't. Wouldn't wish to leave Andrea, you know.”

“Don't be a mooncalf, boy,” his mother said, not changing her position or her “portrait” face. “She'll never have you. She's nothin' but a boy's dream, y' know.”

“Is that what you think?” Toby asked, startled.

“Yes, I do. And so does yer father though he's not the man t' say so. An' I think somethin' else as well.”

“What's that?”

“Be still, woman,” the vicar cut in, turning away from his fascinated study of the drawing and going to the fire to light his pipe. “It's not a matter for us to discuss so freely.”

“Why not?” his wife demanded, turning her head to glare at him. “We don't have t' discuss scriptures all the time. He's our son, ain't he? Why can't we talk freely to him?”

“Yes, Papa, why not? What is it, Mama, that you think about Andrea and me?”

Before responding, Mrs. Boyce threw her husband a look of arch rebellion and resumed her pose. “I think,” she said, not letting her thoughts affect the stiff, upturned tilt of her head, “that your feelin' for her comes more from habit than from honest emotions, that's what I think.”

Toby stopped sketching in surprise. “
Habit
?”

The vicar puffed at his pipe and nodded. “That's just what it is,” he agreed. “And, may God forgive me for speaking so bluntly, you have more important things to do with your life than to sit about here waiting for a smile from the likes of Andrea Clement.”

Toby stayed awake all that night reviewing what his parents had said, and by morning he felt in complete agreement with their opinion. Once that momentous realization had been made, it took no time at all for him to decide to go to London at once. The one hundred pound note which arrived from Lady Rowcliffe did much to make the parting easier for the Boyces to bear. With one hundred pounds a young man, if he were frugal, could live in London for a year!

On the day that Toby Boyce's phaeton trundled off for London, a crested but shabby equippage drew up the drive to Willowrise. The Earl of Wetherbrooke alighted, tired and disgruntled. “Send the whole family to me at once!” he ordered the butler as soon as he was admitted. “I shall await them in the library.”

Lady Garvin came in first. “Thank
goodness
you've come!” she cried, falling on his neck and beginning to sniffle. “You don't know how I've been suffering these past few days!”

The earl disentangled her arms from about his neck and led her to a chair. “Stop the waterworks, ma'am,” he demanded. “I need a coherent account of what's happened. Your letter didn't make a jot o' sense.”

Robbie entered next, still buttoning himself into his coat to make a proper appearance before his uncle. “How good to see you, Uncle Alistair,” he said with real feeling, pumping his uncle's hand. “I've been wishing for a chance to tell you my adventures. You won't believe some of the scrapes and squeezes—”

The earl's brow cleared. “Well!
You
don't look destroyed, at any rate. In fact you're lookin' very fit. Grown a few inches, I shouldn't wonder. So what's wrong with you, laddie?”

“Wrong with me? Who said there was anything—?”

But Jenny entered at that moment. Neat, trim and composed, with every hair in place, she nevertheless seemed to him to be the one person in the family who'd altered for the worse. He scrutinized her carefully while she greeted him and kissed his cheek affectionately. “What's this, girl?” he asked bluntly. “Been sick?”

“Of course she hasn't been sick,” her mother said impatiently. “Everything would have been fine if you hadn't placed Robbie in the Navy. It's all your fault, Alistair, and you must undo what you've done at once.”

“What are you talking about, Mama?” Robbie asked, confused.

“Yes, what?” the earl echoed. “Can you possibly calm yourself sufficiently to tell me what's happened in clear, simple sentences? I ain't no clairvoyant, y' know.” He dropped into a chair opposite his sister-in-law and signaled for her to begin.

“What's happened is that your Captain Allenby came to Wyndham for a visit. He, as Robbie will be glad to tell you, is quite monstrous. He completely upset poor Jenny (who, if you notice, is not yet recovered from the experience) and has taken Robbie in such dislike that he will undoubtedly ruin the boy's life if he returns to the ship. So the only thing to do is buy the boy out of the Navy—or whatever it is you must do to win his release—and send him back to school, which, as I've always said, is the place he belongs.”

“Mama, what are you
saying
?” Robbie exclaimed. “I don't want to be released from the Navy. I
love
the Navy.”

“
What
?” Lady Garvin and Jenny turned to stare at the boy in disbelief.

“Do you, lad?” his uncle asked, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “I thought you would.”

“Have you suddenly lost your
wits
?” his mother demanded. “We've heard of nothing but Captain Allenby's cruelty for months and months. And now you say
you love the Navy
?”

“Well, I'm not saying that I love everything about it, of course. The food is revolting, the work is sometimes very hard, and standing watches in bad weather is not a joy. And Captain Allenby does seem to have taken me in dislike. But I've had some grand adventures—wait 'til I tell you about the fight I had with the bully of our berth, Uncle Alistair; it quite made my reputation among the other middies—and I've made lots of friends. I wouldn't dream of doing anything else.”

“I think he
has
lost his wits,” Jenny murmured, dropping into a chair.

“And so do I! Grand adventures, indeed. And how, may I ask, are you to progress in your career if you've stirred up the enmity of the captain?” his mother demanded furiously.

The boy blinked at her bewilderedly. “I don't see why you're making so great a to-do over this. I don't think Captain Allenby is my enemy. I'm not important enough. It's a big ship, Mama, with over six hundred men. There are fifteen middies besides me. The captain doesn't even concern himself with us.”

“But those things you wrote in your letters … the time he invited you to dinner and then scolded you … and all the other times when you felt he'd taken unfair notice—”

“I never said he was unfair. Captain Allenby is one of the fairest captains in the fleet. Everyone says so, don't they, Uncle?”

“So I've heard,” the earl said, leaning back in his chair and surveying the scene with detached interest.

“Uncle Alistair,” Jenny said in a voice that surprised him by its low-pitched intensity, “is that
true
?”

“Of course it's true,” Robbie insisted. “Don't you think we middies know about such things? We talk about them all the time. Collinson's the kindest, Fothergill's the crudest, Allenby's the fairest. Everyone knows it.”

“The boy's right,” Alistair said to Jenny. “I hear he never has to impress to get his full complement of men, because even the common seamen know they'll get a fair shake from Allenby.”

The girl pressed her fingers to her temples as if she'd been struck with a splitting headache. “The
fairest
—!” she murmured, shaking her head in amazement.

“This is the most confusing conversation I've ever endured,” Lady Garvin said. “Didn't you tell us, Robbie, in your very own letters, that he was cold, aloof, cruel and beastly?”

“And that he'd punish men for the most minor infractions?” Jenny added.

“And that he was vindictive and infected the lieutenants with his prejudice against you?” Lady Garvin reminded him.

“Well, boy?” the earl asked, looking up at him curiously.

Robbie turned from one questioning face to the other, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. Was this fuss in which he was so surprisingly embroiled something of his own making? “I suppose I
did
say all those things,” he admitted, running a hand through his dark hair embarrassedly, “but I didn't intend to upset you with them. It was only a way of … of easing the strain. When things seemed difficult or depressing—like the time I was sick and had to stand watch anyway—it was a bit of a relief to write my complaints to you. Once I'd written them, things didn't seem so bad, you see.”

“But the complaints were
true
, weren't they?” Jenny asked.

“Yes, but not in the way you're describing them now. When I was scolded or punished, it was because I wasn't doing exactly as I ought. No infractions are minor on a ship, you see. Everything must be done just so. And things are exaggerated out of all proportion when you're out at sea. Everything seems much worse when it's happening so far from home and from everything one is used to. Now that I look back on it … on what I wrote … on all my complaints … I seem to have been a … a bit of a crybaby.”

“Oh,
Robbie
!” Jenny murmured, dropping her head in her hands.

“But even if the voyage was not as bad as you painted it,” his mother insisted, “you still have to face the captain when you return. And he dislikes you—you've admitted that. So your future is
still
doomed, is it not?”

“No, it isn't, Mama. When I heard that Captain Allenby was coming here, I suppose I hoped to gain a special advantage by trying to get close to him. It was wrong of me. But even if the captain dislikes me personally, it won't affect my promotions if I do a good job. He's fair, as I said. And I have very little to do with him on shipboard. If the lieutenant under whom I serve finds me capable, I should get ahead well enough. And I shall do better this time, you know. I know better what's expected.”

“Good for you, boy,” his uncle said. “So you'll return to your ship just as expected, eh?”

“That was always my intention, Uncle.”

Lady Garvin threw her hands in the air in disgust. “I don't think I shall ever understand you, Robbie. Not as long as I live. But if you're sure that is what you wish—”

“I'm sure, Mama. And don't look so unhappy about it. I won't be such a crybaby this time.”

Jenny, who was thoroughly shaken by these revelations, got up from her chair. “If I'm not needed any more, Uncle Alistair, I'd like to go up to my room. You're staying for dinner, aren't you? I shall see you then.”

She walked unsteadily out of the room. Her uncle watched her go, his brow furrowing again. Without excusing himself, he got up and went quickly after her, closing the door behind him. She was already on the stairs. “Jenny,” he asked with unaccustomed tenderness, “do you wish to tell me what passed between you and Allenby?”