The Captain's Wallflower (3 page)

Amelia flushed; every etiquette said she should not be talking to these two gentleman as she had not been previously introduced to them, and she certainly should not be introducing herself. It went against every rule of polite society. “I—er—,” she stuttered.

Richard looked closely at the girl. Alexander had bounced back immediately when she uttered her words. His friend usually took hours to be dragged out of one of the moods that were caused by the realisation of how his life had changed. One sentence from this young woman, though, had Alexander laughing, something that happened too rarely for it to be ignored.

“Have you two met previously?” Richard asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Yes, at that disaster of a ball that you took me to three nights ago. I’m still having nightmares about that experience!” Alexander responded with a shudder.

Richard looked at the young woman, trying to place her; it was obvious she was not going to introduce herself. “Aren’t you Basingstoke’s niece?” he asked, finally recognising her, but he immediately became wary. If she were anything like her cousins, she would need to be given a wide berth.

“Yes,” Amelia admitted reluctantly. Her cheeks burned as she correctly interpreted the expression on Mr Critchley’s face. She silently cursed her aunt and cousins!

“Well, Miss Basingstoke, it is a pleasure to meet you officially. You were the shining light in an otherwise very dark evening,” Alexander said. He was surprised to find out who she was, mainly because of the way her aunt had spoken to her, but he could dwell on that later. He did not have the same reservations as his friend; even on short acquaintance, he knew she was nothing like her relations.

“Thank you,” Amelia said. “If you gentleman would excuse me, I need to continue my walk; the more energy Samson can use up, the quieter he is for the remainder of the day. It prevents him getting scolded by everyone he comes into contact with,” she explained.

“Samson?” Alexander asked, rubbing under the dog’s chin. “That’s a fine name.”

“He’s usually referred to as ‘the beast’ by the staff,” Amelia admitted. “Come on boy; time to go.”

Amelia stepped away, but Samson did not immediately follow. The dog’s hesitation gave Alexander the cue he was looking for to extend their meeting. For some reason he wanted to be in the company of the young woman; apart from Richard she was the only person who treated him like a normal human being; he did not wish her to leave quite yet.

“It seems I have a new friend Miss Basingstoke,” Alexander said easily. “Would you mind if we walked with you a little way?”

“Well, of course, I don’t mind, but are you sure?” Amelia said, “He might be good now, but once he starts running around, you will know his true character. Is it not better to remain in blissful ignorance of his normal behaviour? It seems he has finally lulled someone into believing he can behave himself; it would be such a shame to dispel the illusion so soon.”

Alexander smiled. “I think I’d like to take the risk,” he said stepping forward. Richard held out his arm, touching Alexander’s elbow with his arm. Alexander used the gesture to enable him to place his hand on his friend’s arm without any words being used. It was something Alexander hated doing, but it was necessary if he was to get anywhere safely.

To Amelia’s utter astonishment when the group moved forward, Samson stayed at Captain Worthington’s side. He walked slightly in front of the Alexander, but his body was still in contact with his leg. Amelia could hardly take her eyes off the animal; he was acting so differently than his usual boisterous self.

“You are very quiet, Miss Basingstoke; even on such short acquaintance I am used to far more from you,” Alexander said as they walked.

“I’m worried that the spell you seem to have cast over Samson will soon be cast in my direction. I can think of no other reason he would be acting so out of character. He never walks to heel,” Amelia responded.

“Does the thought of walking close by my side frighten you so much?” Alexander asked, teasingly.

Amelia spluttered with a laugh, “According to my aunt, I can’t walk in a dignified manner. I would likely trip you and send you sprawling across the grass if I walked close to you. I’d stick with the dog if I were you. I never thought I’d say this, but he is by far the safer option.”

Alexander chuckled. “In that case you are safe from my spells; today I shall concentrate on Samson alone. Although one day, I may demand that you take your turn by my side.”

Richard walked without adding anything to the conversation. He was astounded but pleased. Alexander
flirting?
That was definitely a sign of improvement. It appeared that Miss Basingstoke was not as obvious as the rest of her family, but he was less inclined to trust her than Alexander seemed to be. For Richard, the family reputation made him wary. Richard felt hope for his friend though; if he could flirt with a young woman, it would not be long before he was back into the fold and being chased by the ladies.

Alexander felt that the morning was turning out to be very enjoyable. He was excessively pleased he had found out who Miss Basingstoke was; her voice had filled his thoughts for the last few nights. The chances of finding out who she was had seemed remote, particularly as he had no intention of going into Society again.

More surprising was that, with Samson walking by his side, he was experiencing a feeling of confidence. The sensation of having the dog in contact with his leg was gently reassuring, and he was walking in a far more relaxed manner than he had done since he had lost his sight. He was still holding onto Richard, but the dog was providing extra support.

They walked together until they reached the gates of the park. Alexander had been talkative all the way, something which had flustered Amelia a little and surprised Richard.

“Well, this is where I bid you good day gentlemen,” Amelia said. “Now Samson, we really do have to go this time,” she said firmly, putting the dog on his lead. Samson obeyed the request and returned to Amelia’s side meekly.

“Thank you for your company, Miss Basingstoke,” Alexander said, giving a bow. “And thank you, Samson.”

Richard bowed his goodbye and led his friend onto the street, turning in the opposite direction to Miss Basingstoke. “Well, that was odd behaviour from the dog,” he said. “I thought he was going to attack us when he first came bounding across the park.”

“Perhaps sight loss has its advantages after all,” Alexander said. “I only met a very well-behaved, gentle creature.”

“Umm,” Richard responded, unable to make a comment to Alexander’s flippant remark.

“So, Miss Basingstoke,” Alexander said when he was sure she was nowhere near. “Describe her to me.”

“Why? She’s nothing special, certainly not your usual type at any rate. A pleasant young lady, but with questionable relatives; that is all, really. Nothing to interest your high standards,” Richard said dismissively.

“Come on, there must be something you can tell me!” Alexander said in response.

“She’s not a beauty or rich. What more is there to tell?” Richard responded with a shrug of his shoulders. He had already dismissed Miss Basingstoke, just as most of the people frequenting the season had done. There was little to recommend oneself if one was lacking in beauty
and
a dowry.

Alexander frowned all the way home, frustrated at not being given a picture of the tantalising Miss Basingstoke. His ‘usual’ type of woman had been at pains to avoid any contact with him since his injury, something that should have made him angry but did not. He was thankful he had formed no attachments with Society’s finest before Trafalgar. It would have only ended badly once he returned. It was far less painful than he would have imagined it to be to realise that he was only wanted when he was perfect in the eyes of Society and, although hailed a hero, he was now also considered tarnished goods. He was beginning to consider that he had been unfairly judgemental on people just as his old friends had been when visiting him on his return to London. It was a sobering thought and was altering the way he thought he wanted to spend the rest of his life.

Chapter 3

Alexander’s life had changed so much since his injury he sometimes wondered if his previous life had been just a dream. He had been so active, independent and alive and then the metalwork from the sail workings had exploded when the cannon ball struck, and pieces had hit him across his forehead. He had been knocked unconscious, but by that point, his ship and crew were out of danger. The cannon ball was the last one that struck his ship; he had some consolation in knowing they had fought bravely and had survived.

His eyesight was gone when he regained consciousness. His cuts had been sewn, but some metalwork remained inside. The ship’s doctor, a man who had continued to tend to Alexander on his return, had been reluctant to remove it; in his opinion, the chance for survival from such an operation was slim.

Alexander had spent months with his brother, the Earl of Newton, recuperating in the countryside. The younger brother of the Earl of Newton was given every care and attention. The problem was that no matter what help was offered, Alexander was terrified about his future. He was completely dependent on others. He would no longer be able to go on a horseback ride or take command of a ship or dance. He was an invalid at seven and twenty.

The first months were filled with anger. Alexander lashed out at everyone and everything, especially when he tried to do something and failed. Family and staff learned to give him a wide birth and kept communication to a minimum. The slightest misplaced remark could cause an angry outburst.

Things were to change though. It began when Alexander had shouted at a maid and sent her scurrying from the room in tears. A few moments later his brother entered the room and slammed the door behind him.

“Alexander, we need to talk,” Anthony said firmly. Anyone meeting the two brothers would immediately see the likeness they shared; both had the black hair and blue eyes of their mother.

“I’m not in the mood,” Alexander responded, sullenly.

“To be honest Alex, I’m sick of your moods; so is every other person in my household.”

“Sorry, but I’m not feeling sociable at the moment,” Alexander replied sarcastically. “I find getting through each day takes up all of my energies.”

Lord Newton sighed, “Alex, this can’t go on; this is not you.”

“Oh, it’s me, Anthony,” Alexander responded, his tone bitter. “Have you not noticed that I cannot see? Things aren’t going to improve from this. The invalid before you is your brother for the rest of our lives.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to make everyone else’s life hell. Let us help, don’t push everyone away,” Lord Newton appealed. He did have sympathy for his brother, but he was speaking to him knowing that things could not continue as they had so far.

“What can you do, Anthony?” Alexander said, his face showing sadness and frustration. “What can you do that will take this nightmare away? Will you help me to see again? Will you make this darkness disappear?”

“I can’t do that; you know that. I would move heaven and earth if there were something I could do to give you back your sight,” his brother replied with feeling. “I can help you cope with it though. I can offer support in whatever way is best. Just tell me what you need without shouting at anyone who offers help.”

“I need to be left alone,” Alexander responded, turning away from his brother.

Lord Newton sighed. He had hoped to reach Alexander by reasoning with him, but it was obvious that his brother was deep in a hell that was dragging him down further and affecting the whole household. It was time to leave him alone, but he would not go without one last attempt to reach his brother; he owed everyone that. “You’ve been raised to treat servants with respect; I expect you to treat my staff with the respect they deserve while you are a guest of mine. I’m sick of wasting time on consoling yet another hysterical maid and even a few footmen. Do not take your anger out on those who aren’t in a position to fight back.”

Alexander nodded his head in acquiescence. “I’m sorry; I will try not to upset them in the future.”

“Thank you,” Lord Newton said, rising and moving to the door. “Alex, I have always admired you. You were the brave one, the fearless one who, in my opinion, should have had the title. I always thought I was in your shadow, even though I was the eldest; but I was happy to be in that position, a little in awe of my capable brother. You may be the younger brother, but I looked up to you. I’m sorry this happened and wish that I could do something to ease your pain, but it has changed you in more ways than losing your sight.”

“How?” Alexander asked, surprised but touched at his brother’s words.

“It has turned you into a bitter, angry coward,” Lord Newton said, rushing to say the words, preventing the opportunity for any interruption. “The Alexander I looked up to, would have faced this demon straight on. He would have done whatever it took to return to the life he enjoyed before. He would have battled every battle in order to beat this. You have rolled over and let it win; you have struck out in the most vicious way possible at anyone trying to help, punishing us all for something that none of us had any control over. The Alexander I knew would never have done that. He was better than that.”

Lord Newton did not wait for a response or to see if his words had any effect. He walked out and closed the door behind him, leaving Alexander alone.

It was many minutes before Alexander calmed down after his brother’s outburst. He had felt anger during the months since his injury, but nothing compared to the rage he felt at Anthony’s words. As the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room passed the minutes by, Alexander finally began to breathe normally once more.

As his anger subsided, it was replaced by another emotion: shame. Anthony’s words had hurt, but Alexander had to admit to himself they were truthful. He
had
acted appallingly to everyone, whether staff or family. Throughout his life, especially as he rose through the naval ranks, he had never been afraid; he was not foolhardy, but he had always had confidence in his own and his men’s abilities. The problem he had now was that he no longer had a career; he had been retired from the Navy, and he lacked faith in his own ability. For the first time in his life he was frightened. Frightened of the darkness that would never go away, frightened that he would not be able to cope, frightened that he would never beat his fear.

Hours passed before Alexander finally roused himself and rang the bell for assistance. He asked for his valet to be notified that his master wished to see him, and the loyal member of staff came immediately.

“Peterson, I have a task for you to do before we leave here,” Alexander started.

“Yes, Captain?” Peterson responded. Although Alexander was no longer a member of the Navy, his staff would always consider him their Captain, especially Peterson who had travelled the world with him.

“I need instructions sent to the London house in preparation for our return,” Alexander said, sounding more confident than he felt.

“We’re leaving?” Peterson asked, surprised. He never thought Captain Worthington would be in any fit state to return to his home.

“We are,” Alexander said. “I want all the unnecessary items, the ornaments, the vases, all stored away. I want to be able to move around the house without fear of knocking over some item that my ancestors treasured. I have enough problems without being haunted by unhappy relatives.”

“The parlour maid will be ecstatic,” Peterson said, half to himself, but Alexander heard and chuckled at the words.

“I expect she will be. I need to sell my horses, but keep the ones for the carriage. There is no point keeping those I’m not sure I’ll ever ride again. I also need people around me who will not pity me but who’ll be useful,” Alexander finished.

“If you tell the staff what they need to do, they will respond,” Peterson said with confidence.

“At this moment Peterson, I’m not sure myself what I’ll need them to do,” Alexander admitted. “But I can’t go on like this.”

“No, sir,” Peterson agreed.

“Oh, and one last thing; I’m going to give every member of staff whom I’ve upset a present of twenty pounds as an apology for my behaviour over these last months,” Alexander said. He had behaved abominably, and it was time to make amends.

“The list could be long,” Peterson said, not sure how his comment would be received but needing to make his employer aware the extent to which he had been lashing out.

“Well, if it ruins me, it will be a lesson I’ll not forget so easily,” Alexander said. Anthony had been correct: he never would have treated anyone so badly before; there was no excuse. It was time to change and time to fight.

*

Alexander worked hard when he returned home. He had a London residence, liking the hustle and bustle and entertainments the capital offered as any young man would. Only now did it seem the wrong place to have a residence. Rather than make the rash decision to sell and either move in with Anthony or setup a house somewhere less busy, he determined to give London life one last chance. He learned every inch of his house so he could move around confidently. It did not come easy, and there were many knocks and bruises along the way. Staff had to learn that if they moved something to clean it, it had to be replaced in exactly the same position in order to avoid a curse the next time Alexander had to move past the object. Moved objects caused unnecessary accidents.

He learned that it was easier to receive a description of where food was on a plate using a clock face as a guide, far easier than having to guess. He no longer served himself but allowed himself to be served. He accepted his glass being filled at the dining table, but he wanted some independence and solitude from his staff. He developed a knack of pouring his own drinks when in his study.

The garden was another challenge, but he faced it and eventually was confident about the pathways and seating areas.

His tailor visited the house. Alexander needed new clothes; he was no longer entitled to wear his Navy uniform. He felt a pang of remorse knowing it was something he had worn for years with pride, but he pushed the feelings to one side, cursing his vanity. Peterson was his eyes when choosing fabric for his new wardrobe, although Alexander felt every sample of material that was brought to be considered. He was determined to have some input in the process.

Throughout the challenges Alexander was facing whilst at home, he faced another hurdle during the visiting hours. It was one that he had not really expected.

On his return he received many visits. People visiting to see the hero, to find out what had happened, wanting to hear the story firsthand. It was also clear from the start that he was a freak show. The locality could come and see the blind man who could walk around his house without crashing into objects, but could not pour the tea. Once the initial visits had taken place and curiosity had been satisfied, Alexander found many whom he had considered his friends soon fell by the wayside.

He could not speak about the latest hunt or the latest beauty, so he was of little interest to the men. The women, although more pitying of his plight, no longer saw him as a possible suitor, so their interest also waned. It was not many weeks before few people visited at all, and he could not visit them in return, even if he had wanted to. Going into a strange house carried far too many risks of disaster for him to venture out.

Throughout it all Mr Richard Critchley had stood by his friend. They had been school friends, Mr Critchley coming from a rich, although untitled family. They had built up a bond that had survived Alexander’s many absences because of his naval commitments.

Alexander appreciated his friend even more since his injury; Critchley was consistent, encouraging and enough of a thorn in the side to be able to drag Alexander out of his house when he thought he was up for the next challenge.

That was how Alexander had ended in a ballroom: Richard had decided Alexander needed to mix more. Richard was the optimist who would never give up hope of having back the Alexander who had existed before Trafalgar. Alexander was beginning to realise he was never going to be able to go back and, after the past few months, he was not sure he would want to if he had the choice.