Mrs. McVinnie's London Season (9 page)

His cocked hat sat upon
his head and he seemed to fill the doorway. Jeannie wrinkled her
nose and sniffed at the odor of tar about him. Then she noticed the
tarred pouch he had tucked under one arm.

He entered the room and
returned Pringle’s salute.

“
Very
well, Pringle, my compliments,” he said, and his voice held not a
twitch of amiability. “You may stand down.”

Pringle placed his
hands behind his back.

Captain Summers walked
into the middle of the room and placed the black bag on the
table.

His sister rose in
fury. “Get that disgusting thing off my table,” she shrieked.

He said nothing, but
merely stared her down, his green eyes harder than emeralds, his
face immobile.

Larinda stirred
uneasily and tugged at her aunt’s sleeve.

“
Agatha, these are the orders that you used so cleverly to
command my appearance here,” he said.

“
And
what of it?” she snapped. “Get that nasty bag off my
table.”

“
Sit
down, Agatha,” he commanded.

She sat.

Captain Summers removed
his gloves and reached into the bag and pulled out a piece of
paper, closely written. Pellets of shot tumbled out of the pouch
and dropped onto the floor.

Jeannie turned to
Edward. “What is that for?” she whispered.

Captain Summers turned
toward her and bowed. “In the event of capture, Mrs. McVinnie, this
pouch can be tossed into the sea.” He swung around to look at his
sister again. “Although I cannot imagine the effect these orders
would have had upon the frogs.” He swept his hat off and placed it
on the table.

He looked about him
with an air of feigned surprise. “And are you all assembled?” he
asked. “God help us.”

“
William, I warn you,” said his sister in an awful
voice.

“
I
don’t recommend that,” he returned in a voice equally frosty, for
all that it was flat, toneless, and held no hint of life behind
it.

As Jeannie observed
him, she wondered for a moment what it would feel like to be
dressed down on a heaving quarterdeck by this man. The thought sent
prickles of fear traipsing down her spine.

They all watched him
with varying expressions of dread, animosity, and curiosity.

Captain Summers looked
down at the paper in his hand. He addressed his remarks to Agatha
Smeath, who sat on the edge of the sofa, her face a wooden mask,
save for the steady tic in her cheek.

“
These
are the orders that brought me to this duty,” he said. “Your
orders, I might add. We will overlook for now that they have likely
made me the laughingstock of the entire channel fleet, I am sure.
In the press of events pursuant to my arrival last week in this
household, I find myself guilty of improper naval conduct. I did
not read myself in. I will repair that oversight now.”

“
Really, William, I hardly think that this Cheltenham
reenactment is necessary,” his sister snapped.

He bowed to her. “Since
you are the one who has chosen this route of summoning me home with
proper navy orders, issued by your dear brother-in-law, whom I must
obey, I believe I can safely say that I am only following your
wishes in this matter. Do enlighten me if I am wrong, Agatha
dear.”

She said nothing, but
the tic in her cheek grew more pronounced.

“
Ah,
very well, then.” Captain Summers turned smartly to Pringle. “Are
all hands assembled?”

“
Aye,
aye, sir,” barked Pringle, betraying not with the slightest
expression that this read-in was different than any
other.

“
Excellent. We will proceed.” Summers looked at Lady
Taneystone. “You are Agatha Smeath, relict of the late Lord Cloris
Smeath and sister of the late George Foster Summers, fourth
Marquess Taneystone? And you are companion to Lady Larinda Summers
and Edward, fifth Marquess Taneystone?”

“
For
God’s sake, William, you know I am!”

“
Madam, I remind you that I am following the procedure you have
ordained, for whatever reason.”

Summers stood next to
Edward, who instinctively scooted closer to Jeannie. The movement
did not go unnoticed, but he made no remark upon it.

“
You
sir, by your leave. You are Edward William Summers, fifth Marquess
Taneystone?”

“
Yes,”
Edward said. He caught Summers’ eye, threw back his thin shoulders,
and sat up straighter. “I mean, aye, aye, sir!”

Summers allowed a brief
smile to flicker across his face. How hard his eyes are, Jeannie
thought. I wonder that he gets much pleasure out of life.

“
Very
good, sir.”

Summers opened up the
paper in his hands and then glanced at his captive audience again.
“My name is Captain Sir William Summers, Knight of the Grand Cross
of Bath. I am Summers of His Majesty’s
Venture
, third-rate,
seventy-four, of the Channel Fleet. I have orders from Admiral the
Right Honorable Earl Jarvington, Lord Charles Smeath, Lord of the
Admiralty, Knight of Bath. Oh, thank you, Clare.”

Summers bent down to
receive the shot pellets that Clare had collected from underneath
the chair and gathered in her dress. He put them in the pouch,
patted her head, and pointed her back to Jeannie.

“
The
orders are, to wit: ‘You are hereby requested and required to
repair immediately to Taneystone House of Three Wendover Square,
Mayfair, and take command
pro tempore
of said house for the
duration of the come-out of Larinda Summers, only daughter and
heiress of the late Marquess Taneystone.” He looked up from the
paper. “I have now officially read myself in and have assumed total
command of this household. You are all witnesses.”

Pringle stepped forward
into the ensuing silence, clicked his heels together smartly, and
saluted again. “Welcome aboard, Captain.”

Summers acknowledged
the salute. He turned to Edward, a slight smile on his face. “You
there, what say you? You are bouncing about on that chair and
wrinkling Mrs. McVinnie’s dress.”

“
As to
that, I am sorry, Mrs. McVinnie. But, Captain, may I still call you
Uncle Summers?”

Summers bowed. “As you
wish, my boy.”

Jeannie cleared her
throat. “And now, sir, may I take my leave? If I can locate a
jarvey with some skill in traffic, I might make the next mail coach
heading up the Great North Road.” She rose to go, setting Clare in
the chair.

“
Mrs.
McVinnie, please be seated.”

He said it quietly
enough, but there was a bite to Captain Summers’ words that made
Jeannie McVinnie look up quickly, a slight frown on her face.
Summers’ eyes stared at her like emeralds with the fire in them
banked. She sat, scarcely daring to breathe.

“
I
have not entirely finished the reading of my orders, Mrs. McVinnie.
Lord Smeath saw fit to add a rider. I suspect he was in his cups
and sought to provide a laugh to his companions. But it is an
order, and he has signed it.”

“
Yes,
sir,” she whispered, her eyes on his.

“ ‘
You will take upon yourself, by the authority of these orders,
the command of all officers, seamen, and royal marines. By virtue
of the powers entrusted in me by the lords commissioners of the
Admiralty, you are to proceed with all diligence in the execution
of these orders.’ Here is the part that might interest you, Jeannie
McVinnie,” he interjected. “ ‘You are reminded that in these
times of war and desperate emergency you have the power and
privilege of impressment. You may make use of these powers in any
fashion you see fit, as far as naval discipline and the Articles of
War allow.’ ”

He frowned down at the
orders for several long moments and then slowly folded them,
replacing them in the pouch. When he finally allowed himself to
look Jeannie in the eye, she was not sure what emotion stared back
at her. It was an expression she had never seen on a man’s face
before, a disturbing combination of resignation, bare pleading, and
iron will that mystified her, even as she began to feel the blood
drain from her face. Her hands went cold.

“
No,”
she said, her voice soft.

If he heard her, the
word had no meaning to him. Summers walked slowly and deliberately
around the table until he stood directly in front of her. He gave
no orders, but Jeannie found herself rising to her feet as if there
were strings attached to her shoulders.

“
Mrs.
Jeannie McVinnie, you are hereby impressed into the service of
Captain William Summers, acting under the powers and privileges
granted by his commission in the Royal Navy of His Majesty King
George.”

B
ut, sir, you cannot—”

“
I
believe I can,” Summers interrupted. ‘‘Lord Smeath appears to have
granted me these powers and privileges in relation to this house,
or at least, that is my interpretation of these orders. Would you
care to dispute them with the Admiralty? I would not.”

‘‘
But ….” Jeannie looked about her helplessly. No one met
her eyes.

The captain continued
inexorably. “The period of impressment is two years.”

“
Two
years,” she gasped. “You cannot be serious.” Jeannie sat down with
a thump.

“
Two
years,” he went on, scarcely noticing her outburst. “By choosing
service, at least according to the Articles of War, my dear, you
can avoid the gallows, transportation, or jail.” He smiled then.
“And never fear Australia. I hear the climate is salubrious in the
southern reaches.”

Pringle choked and
began to cough.

“
And I
will not hold you to two years, Mrs. Jeannie McVinnie,” continued
the captain, his serenity undisturbed. “A month or two of Larinda’s
come-out will suffice.”

Jeannie leapt to her
feet again, her prized Scottish phlegm knocked out of the water.
“You are determined that I will fill in for Jeannie McVinnie. Sir,
I will not be bullied.”

Captain Summers reached
out and took her by the chin. “I don’t want to remind you that you
got yourself into this bumble broth.”

She shook his hand off.
“Yes, I did,” she snapped. “But that was before—”

He grabbed her again.
“Look at me, Jeannie,” he ordered. “That was before you looked us
over and found us wanting! Well, it’s too late.”

She opened her mouth to
speak and closed it again. There was too much truth in what he
said. When she said nothing, the captain released her, whispering,
“Jeannie McVinnie, I need you.”

She turned away, and
there was Clare and more shot pellets in her dress. The child
smiled up at Jeannie and held them out to her.

Jeannie knelt beside
her. “You are a tidy housekeeper. We will give these to Captain
Summers. Perhaps he will choke on them.”

To her intense
appreciation, Pringle struggled within himself and then found
something that commanded his attention at the outer reaches of the
large room.

Summers was waiting for
her answer. Jeannie touched Clare’s curls and looked beyond her to
Edward. He gazed back at her with such barely concealed excitement
that she smiled in spite of herself. Dear boy, you would certainly
look less pale if you were allowed out in the sun more often, she
thought. I wonder that your aunt cannot see that.

She glanced at Larinda
next and read only mutiny on her face. And you, my dear, want a
firm hand, such as I am sure Jeannie McVinnie would have provided,
from what Galen has told me of her. Perhaps what you really need is
a friend.

The captain had begun
to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace, walking slowly
and carefully, as if, even on that level floor, he was trying to
maintain his balance on a bucking deck. And you, sir, are a sad
man, she thought. I don’t know what I can do about that.

That she could still
refuse, she had no doubt. He had no power to impress her, and she
knew it. But Jeannie reminded herself that she had nowhere to go
for the remainder of the spring. For only three months she could
surely shepherd Larinda to parties, see to the organization of her
wardrobe, and help out in whatever capacity Captain Summers
dictated. And if none of the Summers was particularly appealing,
well, she would learn to like them. She had discovered last year
that life was not always to one’s liking.

Jeannie took the shot
from Clare and stuffed it in the pouch. Captain Summers stopped his
pacing to watch her.

“
Sir,
I believe that I will submit to this impressment,” she said in her
clear voice. “I have not the constitution for jail, I have no
burning desire to see Botany Bay, and one meets such wretched
company hanging about the gallows.”

He bowed to her. “My
dear Mrs. McVinnie, you will not regret this.”

“
On
the contrary, Captain, I am sure that I shall,” she retorted. “But
as you so clearly spelled out, I have made my bed and now must only
lie upon it.”

He bowed again, a smile
in his eyes this time.

She put up her hand. “I
have a condition of my own, sir, and I insist upon it.”

“
Insist?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“
Insist,” she replied firmly. “You will, from this time, cease
taking the name of the Lord in vain. I cannot abide such trampling
underfoot of deity, even if you are a sailor, and merciful heaven
knows what they are!”

“
Oh,
and what are they, Mrs. McVinnie?” the captain asked without a
whisper of good humor in his voice.