The Stillwater Conspiracy (The Neville Burton 'Worlds Apart' Series Book 4) Read online

  “Don’t get the idea I’ll let you join the navy, either,” admonished Elizabeth. “I prefer my men living. Look what’s happened to Martin’s dad.”

  “That was brilliant, Mum. I don’t often get such a breakfast,” Neville said to change the subject again. He had nothing left but his cup of coffee.

  “Thank you for the compliment, but it was not special enough for my… captain,” she said. “You three go off now. I’ll take care of this little mess.”

  “Thank you, Mum,” said Elizabeth, and leaned across to give her a goodbye kiss. Gage dutifully reported to his grandmother for the same. Elizabeth turned to Neville. “Come on – captain.

  “You may go off with your friends now, Gage,” she said.

  The door to Angelica’s flat on Hatter Street opened after Elizabeth’s knock to reveal his childhood friend Angelica. The sight almost took Neville’s breath away. After one child and ten or eleven years, the pretty girl he remembered from his sister’s wedding was now a stunning full-figured woman in her prime.

  “She knew you were coming, Neville,” said Elizabeth, noticing his reaction.

  “I did dress, yes,” said Angelica. “I expected to go out, and I certainly wanted to look my best if I will accompany a navy officer. You look as dashing as Daniel. He was just home, you know?”

  “There is no question why he married you,” was the only response that came to Neville’s mind.

  “Manners, you two,” said Elizabeth. “May we come in?”

  “Oh, yes, Yes. Sorry,” said Angelica. “Mind the dolls and the little pram. It was tidy this morning, but Alice has just been horrid. She’s earned herself an extra morning nap, she has. Let’s have a tea, and then I’ll get her up. She’ll be better with Martin around.”

  “We are going to Mary’s, yes?” She asked, looking first at Elizabeth and then at Neville.

  Elizabeth took charge. “Yes, I think so.

  “You need to do the right thing someday, my brave navy officer brother, so it might as well be today. You are expected.”

  Neville put on his sociable smile. “It certainly should. Is there a biscuit for the tea? I would love something other than hard ship’s biscuit.”

  “I tell you what,” said Elizabeth, “I’ll go fetch them. She lives just around the corner on Churchgate. You have your tea and catch up whilst Alice finishes her nap. I’ve had enough tea for the morning.” She backed out the door and left.

  Neville and Angelica spent an enjoyable half hour walking memory lane. Elizabeth’s rap at the door woke Alice, so Angelica sent Neville to the door and ran for the nursery.

  Outside, Elizabeth had taken little Martin’s hand and pushed Mary to the door in front of her. When the door opened, Mary and Neville stood face to face. Neither spoke for a moment.

  Mary coolly broke the ice, “Good morning, Neville. You look well.” She was prettier than Angelica, if that was possible.

  “Awiss?” asked Martin.

  “All right, you two.” A horse and buggy rattled past behind her. “In you go,” commanded Elizabeth.

  Neville stepped aside, and the three trooped in. Neville still had not figured out how to greet Mary, so he knelt by Martin and put out his hand for the little boy to shake. Martin stepped behind his mother’s skirts, so Neville stood again.

  “That’s what he looked like, my John. Just like Martin.” Her chin quivered.

  “Mary, I’m so sorry,” Neville finally said.

  “Not all that sorry!” she exclaimed at him. “Where did you go?” She demanded. She slapped his face. “Why didn’t you write?”

  “Mary!” cried Angelica.

  Alice screamed and both children began to cry.

  “It’s all right, ladies, I understand. I truly do,” said Neville. “May we have a few minutes alone?”

  “In the garden then,” said Elizabeth, “We’ll have the children calm down and play in here.”

  Mary and Neville stepped outside. It was indeed a beautiful English summer day. A few puffy clouds roamed the blue dome above them. Angelica’s garden was well tended, with a small box of sand for Alice to play in on one side and a small patio with a wooden table to the other. The table had a bench on each side and a sand pail in the center. They sat facing.

  “You can’t possibly understand,” Mary spat at him. “First I lost you. No letters. Nothing. We thought you dead. Three years, Neville. Three years! I got past that and found John. He’s… was… a wonderful man. We had beautiful little Martin, and now I’ve lost John. You can’t possibly know unless it’s happened to you.” She was crying now.

  Neville reached for her hand. She pulled it back.

  “I know how you feel because I also lost someone. It still hurts when I think of her… right here,” he said, tapping the center of his chest with his knuckles.

  “Yes,” she said, “right there. And I’m angry. I’m always angry. Angry at nothing. Angry at everything. I have to be very careful with Martin.”

  “That’s good,” said Neville. “After a time I was angry, too, but I had a release. We came into a battle and I’m afraid I was inhuman. It passes with time.”

  “Time,” she said. “Where were you for three years? And whom did you lose? How could you be gone three years and have an entire love affair directly after leaving me?”

  “The Caribbean – Jamaica. I was injured early on. If you watch closely you will see a slight limp. My leg was broken badly when a cannon exploded nearby, and they despaired of me losing it for a time. And my memory was gone… had no idea where I came from. My nurse was a beautiful girl. She reminded me so much of you, I think, but I couldn’t place you then. You would have loved her, too.”

  “What happened to this girl, then?”

  “Killed – in an earthquake, with me watching. Sucked into the very earth, she was.” His tears began to flow. “I almost died myself. They found me on the beach,” he said, “with everything gone. Everything. The city had a ship in the middle of it. We were to be wed in another few months.”

  He pulled himself together. “By then most of my memory had come back…”

  “Why didn’t you write, then. Surely they have quill and ink in Jamaica.” She was angry again.

  “They do, but I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Why not?”

  “Navy business. By then I found myself in a situation that required secrecy. I was forbidden to speak of it – still am.” He lied, but it was either that or have her think him mad – or completely callous. “And then the earthquake, and they ordered me home.”

  “Navy business? Did Sir Mulholland know of it then? He said he knew nothing. We all inquired of him. Did he lie to us?” Her complexion had passed a simple pink and was approaching blotchy red.

  “They thought me dead, and that was that. He knew nothing then – could find no trace of me. He does now. He couldn’t have helped.”

  “Neville, I can’t imagine what you got yourself into, but this had better not be a lie.”

  “They ordered me to sail a ship home. Aboard as captain I stayed to myself. I skulked around and ignored my command. It’s a wonder I’m still an officer. Then I became angry – like you are now; as you say, at nothing and at everything. That will pass for you at some time, whether quickly or slowly. The battle smashed mine, as I said. After that you may tell yourself that John’s death was your fault. It wasn’t, Mary.” He reached out with both his hands, and this time she took them. He looked in her eyes and said, “It wasn’t, Mary. None of it is your fault. I beseech you – every time you look at Martin, remind yourself that it was not. He is your reminder that it was not.”

  A quiet moan began from her lips, and she began to cry again. Neville moved to her side of the table, sat beside her and put his arms around her. She grabbed him and held on fiercely for several minutes until her fit of sobbing passed. Neville’s jacket shoulder was soaking wet by the time she looked up into his face.

  Neville fished a handkerchief from his jacket and hande
d it to her.

  “I’m so glad you came,” she said, while dabbing her eyes. “I thought nobody would ever understand. I’ve had no one to talk to. Elizabeth and Angelica are friends anybody should be envious of, but they don’t understand. Even the vicar doesn’t understand, though he pretends better than most.”

  “Have you spoken with our mother? Elizabeth’s and mine. She lost my dad, remember. It has been a long time, and she is a very strong woman, but she would do anything to help you, I’m sure. She told me you were like another daughter to her.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. She said that?”

  “She did. And we could write each other again?”

  “I should love it, of all things. There are no more letters from John,” she concluded with a quivering chin. “Thank you. You lift my heart, without question.”

  “Let’s tell your friends that you feel a bit better now, and maybe we can have our lunch out here.”

  “Absolutely not, Sir. We are dressed to go out,” she declared.

  Upon his return to Stonelake after luncheon, he found his mother had gone out. He fumbled about her writing desk for a few minutes looking for a quill and paper. When he had found the necessary implements he took some time to write Marion:

  Bury St. Edmunds 2 Sep., 1804

  Suffolk, England

  Dear Marion,

  My visit home has been an emotional one. Though not much has changed, the people have grown older. I had not realized how truly long I have been away. Mother and sister are well… &c.. &c…

  I wrote you of my duel with Mr. Stearns. He apparently made an assumption that a navy man could not defend himself. I am sure your father will be unhappy with me over that – for wounding his best man, but it was a reasonable outcome from my perspective. Nobody is dead. I assume he could still do his work in Washington, which is where he said he was going.

  By this letter it is my intention to ask you if you might wait for me – to implore you not to involve yourself with another until we can at least meet for a proper discussion of our mutual intentions. I know it is muche to ask of one with whom I have no binding arrangement and from whom I expect to be apart for some time.

  I shall advise you the moment I know anything of my future.

  Your devoted admirer, Neville

  Despite - or possibly because of - Mary he stopped short of professing his love for Marion. What should he think of his situation? Yesterday he could think of no one but Marion, and today he was confused between the two. Without Marion about, depression creeps quickly back into my soul.

  By the end of September Neville was in London. Before checking in with the Admiralty he stopped in to see Sir William. His mentor was too busy to receive him for two days, during which time Neville began his search for a flat that he could lease for an extended time.

  On the third day Mulholland’s clerk ushered him in to Room Four.

  “A busy week, Sir?” asked Neville. “Oh, yes. Old Boney is giving us a fit with his approaches to Spain. Did your visit home conclude well?”

  “Yes. I had not realized how long I’d been away. I saw Mary Mitchell.”

  “Aah, yes. That is a terrible shame. Will she be all right?”

  “I’m sure she will. I recommended she spend some time talking with mother about her situation. I couldn’t imagine anyone better. And I offered financial assistance if she needs it.”

  “That’s right. You have a few guineas at the bank, don’t you?

  “Yes. Have you had time to think about what you might ask me to do?”

  “Yes, but I think we should not do anything extreme at the moment. You are waiting for your captaincy. You have a ship that should be out of ordinary in a week or two. I have looked again at the Stillwater file and, while it is not a high priority for the war right now, we should probably not drop it while we are ‘in the hunt’, as it were. All I have done, then, is pass a suggestion that you might be left in the Superieure, as least for another few months, and the Admiralty might have their way with you. Sound good?”

  Neville breathed a quiet sign of relief. It seemed a good compromise. “Yes. Thank you, Sir. May I ask yet another favor? This one is pretty passive.”

  “Passive?”

  “Yes. It can probably be handled by your butler, Mr. Spencer. May I use your address to communicate with Miss Stillwater in Jamaica?”

  Unexpectedly, Sir William thought for a moment before answering. Neville had not expected any hesitation at all.

  Neville added, “I haven’t mentioned her to mother or Elizabeth.”

  “What’s to mention?” asked Mulholland warily.

  “Nothing I want mother or sister to even suspect. They are very close with Mary, and…”

  “And…?”

  “And we may be… involved.”

  “Who is ‘we’?” the perceptive man asked, “You and Mary or Marion?”

  “Yes, Sir, that’s it exactly. I am presently confounded.”

  Mulholland thought for yet another minute, but then said, “Yes. You have good taste, I’ll give you that.”

  “You’ve met Miss Stillwater, then?” Neville asked.

  “Oh, no. No,” Mulholland answered quickly. “But I know Mary. If you have nothing more, though, I must go.”

  “Nothing. I’m looking for a flat here in town. I’ll give you that address when I have it.”

  “Cheers, then, Neville.”

  They shook hands and Neville left. Very strange. Out of character for him. I’d swear he was flustered.

  “Do you have any idea why we’re sailing for the Med, Commander?”

  “Of course, Mr. Foyle. But I was not at liberty to say before we left port. We have a packet aboard for Admiral Nelson at Toulon, and before you ask – No, I don’t know what’s in it.

  “When do we expect to round Ushant, Mr. Catchpole?”

  “Another three days if this wind holds, Sir.”

  The three turned their backs momentarily to shield against a cold spray from a crossing wave. “There must have been quite a blow over towards the Irish Sea a few days ago to cause a northwest swell this large,” said Foyle.

  “Aye,” said Framingham,” just then arriving at the helm. “We can thank the Good Lord we didn’t have it last month when we sailed with Dryad to take Admiral Lord Gardner to the Irish station.”

  “Amen to that,” said Neville. He shivered slightly. He hadn’t fully acclimated to the northern climes. None of them had. It had been less than four full months since they left Jamaica. “We must also pray that the swell is less after Ushant. The Bay of Biscay can be bad enough in December without that.”

  “She seems to sail well after the refit, doesn’t she, Mr. Catchpole?” queried Framingham.

  “Aye. I think they’ve raked the mainmast back a few degrees. You notice the boom is lower here aft. You tall fellows had better learn to duck when we come about, I think.”

  “It’s worth it for a little more speed,” said Neville, “The Frogs out of Brest up ahead – or his Spanish lackeys out of Coruna or Cadiz - would love to catch a packet for Nelson, wouldn’t they? You all know where it is in my cabin, yes?” He looked round to see them all nod. “If we strike, it goes over the side, even if I’m dead. It has its lead weights in it.”

  “Aye, Sir,” said Framingham. Neville saw him shudder. The cold or the cold thoughts? Probably both.

  “That’s quite the system they have us in back at Spithead, isn’t it?” asked Foyle of no one in particular. “They say they can send a telegraph message from the Admiralty to Spithead there in three minutes. And how many of us advice-boats do you suppose were there?”

  “I counted twelve that I was sure of,” said Framingham. “Another four came and went while we swung at anchor, and there must be three times that many out somewhere. Think of it. We’ll be gone a month at least; probably longer, just to go and come ‘ome.”

  “Thank you, gentlemen. That reminds me of two letters I received that I haven’t even taken the time
to open; we received such urgent orders to leave – tide or no. And will you send Mr. Johnson down. I meant to ask him if we left anyone behind.”

  “We did, Sir. Three or four.”

  “Who?”

  “Mr. Pulker, Caulker’s Mate, for one. Dunno who else. Mr. Johnson will have it.”

  Independence Hall

  Kingston, Jamaica

  4th November, 1804

  My Dear Neville,

  I have much news for you. First, I received yours of 2nd and 8th September and certainly give you my permission to address me warmly, as I will you.

  I am sorry to include news of Mr. Stearns in my letters to you, but in this case it affects me directly. He returned here a month ago due to illness related to the wound you inflicted on him. It is not mortal – he should recover fully in another month or so. I am glad to have received your letter advising me that he was the instigator, because he implies otherwise. I don’t approve of dueling, but I thank you for defending my freedom from him. Father is angry, as you suspected, but with Mr. Stearns defeated he will not pressure me further.

  But here it is: Mr. Stearns is ill and the business must go on. So I will go to Washington for sales work within the week. It has been a great rush to prepare! I will have arrived there by the time you read this, as I am sure it will go on the same ship from here to Washington.

  I have been before, remember, and I will have Ellen with me. I suspect she would be a more fearsome defender than Mr. Stearns, so don’t worry.

  Thank you for providing the proper Admiralty address for forwarding letters. You mustn’t write me here while I’m gone. For a month or two you can post your letters to me at the Capital City Rooming House on Pennsylvania Avenue. I will leave them a forwarding address when I go. It is a very comfortable place located between the new Navy Yard and the new Capital Building. It will be quite exciting during the winter season, I should think. I wish you could be with me . I will remember our meetings at New Year’s.