Shipmate: A Royal Regard Prequel Novella (4 page)

The group having fallen into step, Lord
Holsworthy began, “You asked, Miss Smithson, about my work among
the savages, and while your aunt may not deem it appropriate, your
questions are, to my mind, not the least bit scandalous.”

The sharp intake of breath behind them must
have been Aunt Minerva, as it was surely her yelp the next second;
Uncle Howard might have pinched her to remind her to hold her
tongue.

At Bella’s look of surprise, he said, “I
believe in plain speaking, Miss Smithson. I find it sinful to
dissemble, doubly so for vanity’s sake or political expediency. It
is but one reason I am unsuited to the diplomatic life.”

“So,” Bella began, mentally gathering up
questions she hadn’t yet asked, “You seem quite a religious man. Is
it your mission to save souls?”

He rubbed her fingers, his hand folded over
hers at the crook of his arm. “It is not my mission,
per se
.
But that is not to say I do not hope Our Lord works through me,
while I expand the reach of my company and my king. I can say with
some certainty, Miss Smithson, that savages have souls, and also
that I am not a vicar. It is not my place to save them, but God’s.
I can but provide a school, a bible, a source of income, and
contact with the civilized world.”

“But surely, my lord, you are a pious man.
One has but to speak a short time with you to understand it.”

“I conduct my life in such a way as to never
be ashamed to speak to my Savior of the day that has just passed,
but I am no example to follow. I have been a sailor for almost four
decades, and only a sinner like all others, trying to keep myself
right with Him and allow others to do the same. I have no right to
judge my fellow souls, in any circumstance in which I might find
them. Are you a religious woman, Miss Smithson?”

“Plain speaking, my lord?” Bella heard Aunt
Minerva choke a few feet behind, so sped up to maintain a modicum
of nonexistent privacy.

“I would always have it so between us.”

“I am not overly religious, my lord. I
attend services every Sunday and help the vicar with anything he
needs at the village church, but I would not claim myself
devout
…”

“This is not displeasing, as such. You are
much like most other English girls, and as I say, it is never my
place to define the Creator for you. Any… er… any family I might
nurture in the future would be confirmed in the Methodist
church.”

“Of course, a man wishes his heir to be
raised to his own faith,” Bella agreed. “Lord Holsworthy, have you
any objection to secular thinkers?”

“Isabella!” she heard from behind, her Aunt
Minerva apparently unwilling to allow Bella to ruin everything by
appearing to be a godless bluestocking.

“My lady?” Bella queried.

“Do tell the baron about your work with the
village school. She does quite well there, Lord Holsworthy. All of
the tenants’ children attend. Isabella is excellent with children.
She’s had a hand in raising my own sons, Lady Firthley’s brothers.
She will be an excellent mother for any man who might marry
her.”

Bella fell silent, face burning again.

“A village school, Miss Smithson? I am
intrigued. I admit, I am less an evangelist for the teachings of
John Wesley than educating the heathen in the English tongue, the
rule of law, and the principles of economic freedom.”

The topic carried them some time, he
contributing stories of similar enterprises he had both observed
and financed in foreign climes, she detailing the structure she had
helped create in Evercreech and at Brittlestep Manor, during the
course of her regular work about the estate.

“Do you mean to say, Miss Smithson, you
undertake management of your aunt and uncle’s estate?”

“No. No, of course not. Not in any
meaningful way. Only… I oversee things when the household removes
to London. They move staff, so I stay behind with a few maids and
footmen…” Bella trailed off, aware in an instant she had just
irreparably branded herself the poor relation. How she would be
able to help that, though, she had never understood, as she was
naught but an extra upper servant at Brittlestep Manor.

“Am I to understand you are not averse to a
mop and broom, Miss Smithson?”

“I am not averse to honest work, my lord. I
did not spend my entire life at the manor house, nor my time there
at ease. Admittedly, as a member of the family, I am more familiar
with household management than household tasks.”

Though he faced forward, his fingers
tightened momentarily on hers, and she caught the smile in the
corner of his mouth.

“If you did not spend your entire life at
Brittlestep Manor, Miss Smithson, where else did you reside?”

Uncle Howard cleared his throat behind them.
“Rather parched, you know. Perhaps things are ready for us, back
with the carriage?”

“I agree,” Charlotte added. Bella turned
away from his question, declaring herself quite peckish,
indeed.

On the return stroll back to the picnic
site, Bella forced herself to ask questions of Lord Holsworthy, to
avoid having to answer many more of his.

“From all you have intimated, His Royal
Highness has set you a task to accomplish during your travels, and
it is a matter of some urgency, is it not? It must be, or you would
not be in such a rush back and forth to London and preparing to
leave in so short a time?” At Uncle Howard’s cough behind her, she
stumbled, grabbing more tightly at Lord Holsworthy’s arm to stay
upright. “Oh, please do forgive if I overstep myself, my lord. Your
arrangements with the prince are not my concern.”

“There is nothing to be forgiven, my dear.
In this case, I believe the prince would prefer I share our plans.
Or rather,
his
plans.” Lord Holsworthy’s wry smile drew
Bella into a commiseration over the unreasonable demands of the
Crown.

“You do not share the prince’s vision?”

“Had I my way, I would presently be planning
to sow an oat crop at Holsworthy Hall.”

Bella tapped her fan on his forearm. “You
surprise me, Sir.”

“I do? That, in turn, surprises me, as I am
generally the dullest and most predictable of men. How have I
defied expectation, Miss Smithson?”

“Are you not a sailor to the core, Lord
Holsworthy? I can see it when you speak of your ship. Would you not
be horribly stifled, stuck in the country as a gentleman
farmer?”

He shrugged. “One does not know whether new
experiences might stifle, until one tries.”

She thought for a moment before asking, “Do
you grow weary of travel?”

“Of travel?” he scoffed. “Impossible. But I
grow weary of naught but men day-in-and-out, and of making my home
in a room the size of a band box. I wish to leave a legacy less
fickle than a life at sea. Having been granted a barony in close
proximity to Bristol, it had seemed the Lord was guiding me back to
England to manage my company from dry land. I have spent the last
half-year in expectation of that course.”

“I see.” She giggled. “So, Our Lord will not
gainsay the prince?”

“So it appears,” he laughed, pinching her
fingertip. “You are a cheeky girl, Miss Smithson.” Aunt Minerva’s
throat cleared behind them, and Lord Holsworthy continued, patting
Bella’s hand, “and I find it inexplicably delightful.”

“Might I ask,” she asked cautiously, her
words placed as carefully as her steps on the uneven ground, “why
does His Royal Highness so wish
you
to take on this mission?
Can he not find another sailor? What have you to offer the Crown
that he cannot hire elsewhere?”

He stopped short and stepped back from her,
causing Uncle Howard and Aunt Minerva to draw up short, and
Charlotte and Alexander behind them. He said nothing for a long few
moments. Bella became more and more self-conscious. Aunt Minerva
fidgeted, Uncle Howard twitched. Charlotte looked over her father’s
shoulder to catch the action, and her husband pulled her back.

“Miss Smithson, that might be among the most
insightful questions anyone has yet asked about this endeavor.” He
stepped back into place next to her, leading the column of
aristocrats to luncheon. He squeezed her hand inside the crook of
his elbow. “I will opine on the topic after I have given the matter
some thought, but for now…” They took a final turn to bring them
back into the clearing, where a footman awaited them with lemonade
and canapes.

“My lord, it seems you have brought your
entire drawing room,” Bella teased, gesturing to the tables and
chairs that would accommodate a party twice their size.

“Kitchen, too, it seems,” Alexander
observed, at one of two tables, heavily laden with food in warming
pans.

Everyone hung back, milling about, with no
hostess and no upper servant to direct the order of things.
Eventually, Lord Holsworthy asked, quietly, “How are your manners,
Miss Smithson?”

She stiffened. “My manners? Do you find
something amiss, Sir?”

He patted her arm. “No. Heavens, no. You are
everything modest and demure, and a refreshing change from the
young ladies flitting about without an ounce of sensibility. What I
mean, is that I ran away to sea before I was fully fledged as a
gentleman. I haven’t the right manners or training to be a
diplomat, and even in a setting so casual as an outdoor party, my
deficiencies are painfully clear. A woman who is a stickler for
etiquette…” his eyes flitted toward Aunt Minerva in question, and
Bella shrugged agreement, “is likely to find me a great
disappointment.”

“I am certain that cannot be true, when you
have brought half of your furniture to make certain I am
comfortable and am never required to dirty my dress sitting on the
ground,” Bella said, teasing him before she realized she might be
flirting. Flushing, wishing to turn her attention elsewhere, she
surreptitiously made arrangements with one of the footmen for
service of luncheon at Lord Holsworthy’s dining table, the
expansive surface covered in pristine linen, fine china, sparkling
crystal, and intricate silver.

For a man with little confidence in his
comportment, and manners that sat uneasily, Lord Holsworthy hosted
a good table. He waited for someone else to start eating, and Bella
saw at once he wasn’t sure what fork to use, so without delay, she
broke protocol and ate before her host. Charlotte and Alexander
followed, and Aunt Minerva, miraculously, held her tongue, in part,
because Uncle Howard looked as though he might make a scene if she
did not.

After that, both food and company were
generous, flavorsome, and satisfying, and his conversation was
intelligent, broadminded, and showed evidence of a contemplative
nature. With dinner came talk of Lord Holsworthy’s travels, and the
exotic viands with which he was most familiar. The spit-roasted
pheasant and venison pasties called up the American West, where the
savages were red Indians and one might also eat buffalo or snake.
The Jerusalem artichoke
a la crème
inspired a tangent into
his last voyage to the Holy Lands, which inspired Aunt Minerva to
great heights of intolerance that embarrassed everyone else at the
table, before Uncle Howard told her to finish her supper. Following
on the heels of her sudden, sullen silence, with roasted root
vegetables, the discussion turned, once again, to philosophy.

“Earlier, Miss Smithson, you asked if I
looked on secular thinkers with disfavor, and the answer, though
some might not credit it, is no.” He tore a piece of bread from a
long
baguette
, buttered it, and gestured with it in his
right hand, his left indecorously draped across the table next to
his plate. “I do not believe Our Lord wishes us to close our eyes
to alternative viewpoints, or He would not have designed so many. I
have, in fact, done business with some of the fomenters of the
American Revolution, after they won their war, during which I
earned my money robbing their ships under His Majesty’s letters of
marque. We have shared many late-night hours plumbing the depths of
the question of the rights of man.”

“The rights of man,” Uncle Howard suggested,
“is too intellectual a topic for our young ladies.”

Aunt Minerva punctuated that thought with,
“Indeed.”

Alexander disagreed, “I should not like to
think any topic held out as too intellectual for Charlotte,
certainly nothing to do with politics. She has a fine mind, and was
well-educated alongside Bella, and I would not be as successful in
The Lords without her counsel.” He cast a glance at Lady Effingale.
“She wanted only confidence to become an excellent political
hostess.”

Charlotte, then, under the baleful glares of
her mother and father and proud gaze of her husband, continued the
political dialogue over the brandy-poached pears and Stilton
cheese, even drawing Bella in, culminating in a revealing and
insightful depiction of the delicate role Lord Holsworthy played as
the owner of Seventh Sea Shipping.

He acted as an economic lever into areas of
the world not yet civilized, reporting back to his investors—chief
among them, the Prince of Wales—on what might be gained by
incursion into uncharted lands, with an eye for portable value.
That he was now being given royal authority and backing might
signal real change in other parts of the world, but, as yet, Lord
Holsworthy was reticent to speak in much detail about his
charge.

He did say it would begin in India, where he
had made his start many years ago, and earned the money to buy his
first ship, and now he would take possession of a sizable tea
plantation and a place in the diplomatic corps. When Uncle Howard
pressed, he explained he had letters of introduction and contacts
to renew there who would determine how long he stayed in India, how
much travel he would do on the subcontinent, and where he would go
next. And that, he concluded, was the nature of his life.