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Cast Adrift - Book 01

By: MarshAlien



All of the material in this "Book One" has previously appeared on Literotica. If you have already read the previously posted Parts One and Two, there's nothing new here other than a few minor edits. I expect to post the first two chapters of Book Two soon, though, and wanted to return Book One for anyone not familiar with the story. When I finish the two chapters after those, I will withdraw the first two and post all four as Book Two. As always, I welcome any comments that you'd care to post or send me.

CHAPTER ONE

The appearance of a handsome, knighted naval captain at the door of a pregnant woman living by herself would have been an occasion for scandal in many of the villages in the interior of England, particularly as he had already visited the day before. But in a coastal town such as Dartmouth, where several of Sir Edward Pelham's lieutenants rented homes, it was widely thought that a second visit simply meant even more bad news for the current occupant of Number 7 Welmore Street.

"It's Sir Edward, ma'am," Lucy said, peering around the door to the drawing room where the pregnant woman sat on a modest sofa.

"Thank you, Lucy. Would you please show him in? And please, Lucy, I thought we had agreed that I was to be called Caroline."

"Yes, ma'am," the other girl said automatically, a smile playing across her lips.

Caroline Stanhope sighed as Lucy left to fetch the gentleman whom Caroline had met only twice before: in early November, when Geoffrey had joined the HMS Classic as its second lieutenant; and just yesterday, when he had appeared at her door to inform her of her husband's death, some three months earlier, from injuries received in battle. The shock had been severe, and Sir Edward, somewhat ill at ease after helping her to a couch, had left shortly thereafter. Within the hour, Lucy Burton had knocked firmly on the door, explaining that she had been sent by Sir Edward to take care of Mrs. Stanhope. Caroline's protests that she could not afford a maid were brushed aside, and by morning the girl was firmly entrenched in the household.

"Sir Edward," Caroline murmured, rising to her feet as he entered.

"Mrs. Stanhope," he said, his hat under his arm. "I hope I see you less, er, that is to say, more settled?"

"Thank you, Sir Edward, I am quite recovered, and will not require you to catch me a second time. I must insist, however, that you discharge poor Lucy from her employment, for I will have no means by which to pay a maid once I receive the last of my late husband's pay. I dare say, based on what he has told me, that the Admiralty will ask for reimbursement of the last three months' pay, on the grounds that he had already died without properly notifying them."

Sir Edward stifled a smile. Geoffrey Stanhope had indeed married well.

"Madam," he said with a slight bow of his head, "I have deposited a sufficient sum with one of your local attorneys to keep her in your service for the next year. If after that you no longer wish to retain her yourself, you have but to tell her."

"You are too kind," Caroline smiled. "Will you not sit down? Lucy?"

Lucy peered around the door from her listening post.

"Ma'am?"

"Could you make us some tea please, Lucy? I take it from your return, Sir Edward, that you have more to tell me?"

"Indeed I do, Mrs. Stanhope. I would like first of all to relate to you the circumstances of your husband's death, merely by way of demonstrating the esteem by which he was held by all of the officers and men of the Classic."

Caroline simply nodded to indicate that he could proceed. She would not faint again. She had spent yesterday afternoon and night in anguish and grief, and by morning she had learned, if not to put those emotions aside, then at least how to mask them when appropriate.

"First of all, madam, let me say that your husband was one of the finest officers I have ever commanded. He served under me as a midshipman, and I considered myself extraordinarily fortunate to have him assigned to me upon his passing the examination for lieutenant."

Caroline allowed herself a faint smile.

"In January, we were given intelligence of a Spanish treasure ship. We found her right where we should, off the coast of South America, and captured her with little problem. The Spanish, you will recall, madam, are currently ruled by Joseph Bonaparte, the Emperor's brother. Mr. Stanhope - your husband - was given command of the prize and ordered to carry her across the Atlantic into Portsmouth. A day later, however, we learned that the intelligence had been incomplete. We were faced with a French frigate equal to ours as well as a smaller sloop, and would have fallen to them but for the incredible reappearance of the prize, your husband in command, firing its four meager cannons to remarkable effect and ultimately boarding the frigate."

Sir Edward paused, as if he thought he had not clearly made himself understood.

"He boarded the frigate, madam," he emphasized, "with the small prize crew at his back."

"Thank you, sir," Caroline said.

"He might have carried it, too, but for the Classic's failure to bring her starboard guns to bear in time. That is my shame, ma'am, and that of my other lieutenants. Thankfully, we were able to ultimately capture both ships ourselves, but at considerable price. Your husband, Mrs. Stanhope, lay mortally wounded on the frigate's deck."

"It sounds a -- a brave death," Caroline said, her voice faltering only slightly.

"Indeed, madam," the captain said fervently. "I have never seen one braver. He was under our surgeon's care for the following two weeks, and in the hospital in Hamilton, but in the end, the infection proved too much. If I may say, ma'am, his funeral was one of the largest ever seen in Bermuda."

Sir Edward was clearly moved himself, and Caroline, unable to speak, nodded again by way of reply.

"My apologies, madam." Sir Edward bowed again. "I did not intend to -- that is to say, I called on you today with a wholly different purpose. First of all, I have here a summary of your husband's share of the prize money. The ship was filled with silver, and a lieutenant's share is, er, considerable."

Caroline stared in astonishment at the paper she had been handed.

"Sir, I have not seen so much money in my life." 

She finally looked up at her visitor. "I imagine not," he chuckled quietly. "All of the men of the Classic have done quite well by our voyage. And there may be some additional money when the Admiralty purchases the ships we captured. Unfortunately, madam, I can make no promises as to when you will receive these funds. While he was in the hospital, your husband did prepare a will, bequeathing all of his possessions to you and naming his brother, James, as his executor. I have engaged a local attorney, a Mister Digby, who appears to have a sound reputation among the local businessmen, and I left the will, and a draft for the prize money, with him." 

Caroline's face fell once again.

Which brings me to the next, er, distribution," Sir Edward continued.

Caroline watched as Sir Edward suddenly grew uncomfortable. Lucy's arrival with the tea gave him a chance to collect his thoughts, and when the young girl had departed, he pulled another paper from his jacket.

"Your husband was delighted to learn from one of your letters, madam, that you were with child," he continued, "and, as you know, his delight was of a very infectious nature. So the crew, knowing of your condition, undertook a subscription to provide some additional support for you. They each" -- he stumbled over the words despite his careful preparation -- "they all, every man-jack, contributed two pounds of their own prize money, madam, for a total of 450 pounds."

Caroline realized that her mouth had fallen open, and slammed it shut.

"Needless to say," Sir Edward continued, "their example was too much for the gunroom and the wardroom, and your husband's fellow officers have added an additional thousand pounds. I was under Admiralty orders, madam, and did quite well myself by the capture. So I have, er, matched my shipmates' efforts with one of my own. In addition, madam, your husband's brother, William, the commander of His Majesty's sloop Wallace, was in Bermuda at the same time, and he made a contribution that matched all of ours, ma'am."

Caroline sat back against the chair, her heart fluttering in her chest.

"But that amounts exceeds..." Her voice trailed off as she silently did the sums in her head.

"Six thousand pounds, yes." Sir Edward smiled at her. "Needless to say, I was unwilling to bring such an amount to Dartmouth, Mrs. Stanhope. So I took the liberty of investing it on your behalf in the Navy Funds, which pay an annual return of five percent, or approximately 300 pounds. So you see, you will be able to keep the young lady in your employ as long as she proves satisfactory. I have asked Mr. Digby, the attorney, to serve as your agent for the moment in dealing with the Admiralty and the Funds' administrators. You may wish to ask him to invest your share of the prize money as well, once you receive it, or you may choose another agent if you wish. In any event, I would recommend not depositing all of your money with the local bank, simply because, um..."

"People talk?" Caroline smiled.

"Exactly," Sir Edward said as he stood up. "I will detain you no more, Mrs. Stanhope. My ship awaits off the coast, and I am overdue at the Admiralty."

Caroline raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Not to worry," he said with an even bigger smile. "Their Lordships place more value on a captain who values his subordinates than they do on precise punctuality. Usually. Oh, I am terribly sorry. I also have a letter from Captain Stanhope."

"Captain Stanhope?" Caroline accepted the letter, addressed to "My Dearest Sister."

"By courtesy, ma'am, those given the rank of Master and Commander in the Navy are called Captain. In this case, Captain William Stanhope, your husband's brother, of the Wallace. And with that, I will take my leave."

After a final bow to his lieutenant's widow, Captain Pelham walked through the streets of Dartmouth on his way to the quay where his gig awaited. He politely touched his hat to each of the women that he passed, servants and upper class alike. None of them, in his estimation, held a candle to the woman he had just left. Like his junior officers, he had felt a pang of envy when his young second lieutenant had brought his new wife on board the ship before their departure six months ago. Caroline Stanhope's beauty was not of the ethereal nature celebrated in art and literature, and fashionable among the London crowd. Hers were the substantial, healthy good looks of a young woman just growing into her adulthood, with long auburn hair, deep brown eyes, and a ready smile that complemented her obvious wit and intelligence. 

It was a pity that at her age, which he guessed as twenty, or perhaps twenty-one, she would spend the next year wearing black. But of course, it was even more a pity that she had lost as fine a husband as Geoffrey Stanhope no doubt would have been. Just as it was a pity that he, and England, had lost as fine an officer as Geoffrey Stanhope was, and as fine a captain as he would have become.

He nodded to his coxswain as he stepped into the boat and took his seat for the silent row back to the Classic.

The woman in question was still staring at the envelope he had left. She had read her husband's last letter three times yesterday, and her tears had soon rendered some of the words nearly illegible. Finally, she had had to set it aside. Dictated in the hospital, and delivered yesterday by his captain, Geoffrey had openly praised the men in his command, men who had followed him without hesitation onto the deck of the Spanish frigate despite their numbers. He lamented the loss of two, and implored her not to worry about himself, that he would be fine once the "medicos" and "sawbones" had fixed him up and returned him to duty. He had jokingly expressed a wish that their new child be a girl, because the boy would undoubtedly look like him, and he would not wish that upon anyone. A girl, on the other hand, that looked like Caroline, would be a benefit to Dartmouth, to England, and to the entire world. He had signed the letter himself, three days before he finally succumbed.

She was of two minds about this new envelope. The only other letter she had received from Geoffrey's family had arrived shortly after she had returned from her shipboard visit. Impressed with the embossed stationary, with the Earl of Prescott's crest used as a seal, and with the elegant "Caroline" on the cover, she had opened it eagerly. Inside had been two pages of the most vitriolic invective she had ever read, from the opening salutation -- "Cunt:" -- to the close -- "I shall have my lawyers contact you if you ever attempt to associate your name with that of the distinguished earldom of Prescott." 

Geoffrey's father had spared no expense in investigating Caroline's family. He knew of her own father, the former publisher's clerk and bookseller who had languished in debtor's prison for years before finally dying two months before his only daughter's marriage. And he knew of her mother, whose shame at her husband's arrest had not inhibited her acceptance, while he still lived, of the protection of a married theatre producer in London. His letter had even referenced a cousin whose ignominious surrender to French forces on the Island of Malta had led him to take his own life.

Geoffrey had laughed when she had cited those very same relations in protest of his attempts several months earlier summer to claim her hand. "But I won't be marrying them, Caroline. I shall be marrying you."

And that was before she became aware that his family was much, much different from her own. When she had met his eldest brother, James, the sole guest at their wedding besides Geoffrey's fellow lieutenants and two girls with whom Caroline had been employed, his clothing and bearing had led her to question her husband more closely, until he finally admitted, again with laughter on his lips, that yes, his father was the Earl of Prescott.

"The Earl?" she had gasped. "Your father is an earl?"

In her memory it seemed as if he was always laughing.

"Don't worry, Caroline. The chances of my becoming the earl are virtually nil. I have two older brothers."

Caroline's tension abated a bit.

"Of course, James has already disclaimed his right to the title after my father threatened to make his, er, predilections public. And William is a naval officer in constant danger on the American station, so perhaps it is a little higher than nil."

"Geoffrey!" She had slapped him on the arm.

"But no higher than forty percent. Forty-five at most."

The laughter of that night had carried her through her first uncomfortable, painful session of lovemaking, a session that had soon become wonderful and had produced the life that grew now inside her.

Holding her breath, Caroline tore open William's letter and breathed a sigh of relief as she realized that she had not been mislead by the address on the envelope this time.

Dear Caroline,

I hope you will forgive my presumption at using your Christian name without a proper introduction, and at addressing you as my sister. But as I sat with Geoffrey the last three days and heard him extol your virtues ad nauseam, I feel I can claim to know you at least well enough to consider you one of my dearest relatives. 

By now, Sir Edward will have told you of Geoffrey's valiant death, and I can add nothing except to say that if just half that number of people attend my own funeral, I will count myself to have done well by my life. Please know that, even with all the visitors he had during at the hospital, his final thoughts were of you, and the last words on his lips those of his love for you. 

I understand that you have already met James. I have asked Sir Edward to mail a letter to him as well, and I have no doubt but that James, whose manners are impeccable, will call on you shortly to express the family's condolences.

I also have no doubt that by now you will have heard from the Earl, and no doubt that his letter was ugly. James will explain the matter in greater detail, as I understand that Geoffrey did not have an opportunity to do so prior to his departure on the Classic. For now, let it suffice that our father is quite ill, and often deserted by the mental faculties that served him so well in his youth. For whatever he must have said to you, please accept my regrets and apology.

When next in England, I hope to have the honour of calling on you, and of visiting with your expected child. Please do not hesitate to contact me before then if I may be of some service, and I shall remain,

Your devoted brother,

William

********** 

True to his brother's promise, James was at her door within the week. After expressing his sincere regret at her loss, he accepted Caroline's invitation to lunch, and disgorged the entire recent history of the Stanhopes.

"The Earldom, of course, is an ancient one, dating back to the War of the Roses. Our father inherited it at a very young age, just after returning from the fight with the colonists. He married our mother, who gave birth to four children. Are you sure this is not boring you, Caroline?" "Oh, no," she dissembled. It was, but it was information that she felt herself obliged to learn. 

James took a sip of wine and continued.

"Our mother died in 1801 in a carriage accident, and our father at that point began exhibiting signs of -- well, perhaps derangement may serve best. Intermittent, to be sure, but enough to send him into actual madness when given news that he did not want. Such as my sister's enagagement to a member of the Ninety-second Foot, the Gordon Highlanders. Honourable men, but Scots, and in my father's eyes little more than savages even now. This Rory Hunter was himself a Scottish laird, at the young age of 27, and a hero of the victory over the French at Alexandria."

James allowed himself a soft sigh.

"But he was pursued by my father's men, to the point of being threatened with actual harm, and to the point of himself injuring one of my father's allies. Who immediately swore out a warrant for his arrest. So he and Courtney -- my sister, Courtney -- eloped to America, where I understand they are now settled outside of Boston.

"This is exquisite wine, by the way. I'm surprised at my brother's taste."

Caroline raised an elegant eyebrow and allowed herself a hint of a smile.

"In wine," James protested, nearly spitting it out as he realized what he had said. "I had no idea he was a -- that it is to say, that he --" 

"He didn't buy the wine," Caroline's smile grew. "Mr. Digby, my newly appointed solicitor, sent if over two days ago. I think he expects to make his fortune administering the funds that your brother and Geoffrey's shipmates were so kind to give me."

"Yes, I met your Mr. Digby yesterday, in my capacity as executor of the estate. It doesn't surprise me at all. I know little of the law, but it appears that my role as executor will be to try to ensure that there is some money left in the estate when Mr. Digby finishes paying his fees from it. To return to my tale, though, William, the second son, had joined the navy in the year two, and Geoffrey quite naturally followed him in the year six. Shortly thereafter, my father learned that I ... that I am unlikely to continue the male line, shall we say. That caused another bout, and when he threatened to make my situation public, I simply disclaimed my own inheritance of the title. I hope I am not speaking too freely?"

"Not at all," Caroline smiled. She wished that he would speak more freely. William had danced around the issue of his brother's failure to marry, and James was now suggesting that he was unable to sire a child. Why in heaven's name would that prevent him from becoming the Earl of Prescott? But she was reluctant to press him, afraid that it was something of a sexual nature that she would be far too embarrassed to have him explain.


Cast Adrift - Book 01



"And your marriage, I'm afraid, has probably brought on another episode. William suggested that you might have received a letter from him?"

Blushing, Caroline nodded.

"And you still have it?" 

"I do," Caroline acknowledged. "I thought that Geoffrey --"

"Should know of his father's attitude. Quite right. I will not ask to see it, but based on letters that I myself received, I can guess at its contents. You may wish to consider now, Caroline, whether or not you would be better off destroying it entirely. You might also consider whether or not you would be better off in another town. I have sent a letter to the Earl to inform him of his son's death. It was sent by as slow a post as I could reasonably find, but it will no doubt inflame his derangement again."

"And you think he will look for me?" Caroline asked in horror.

"It is not likely, but it is not outside the realm of possibility."

"For what purpose?"

"Simply because he is angered," James explained. "He has a substantial sum of money at his disposal, and men who will do anything to receive his very generous payments."

After James's departure, Caroline pondered whether it would even be possible to move, let alone feasible. In the end, though, she decided to stay. She had no resources to compete with the Earl of Prescott, and if he could track her down after her marriage, he could do so again with little trouble. She had already arranged for the services of the town's best midwife, and her solicitor, Mr. Digby, appeared to be taking care of her money with efficiency and attention. The attention was even too much, at times. She found herself wishing that he would dispense with his biweekly call in favor of a simple, concise written summary of her holdings. 

At the same time, though, she did nothing to advertise her newfound wealth. Still in mourning, she needed no new clothes other than progressively larger and larger outfits to cover her swelling belly. She lived quietly, her only indulgence a monthly shipment of books that James had helped arrange from a London bookseller.

Michael Geoffrey Stanhope was born on July 22, 1813, at four in the morning. His birth was remarkably uneventful, and within hours he was at his mother's breast.

CHAPTER TWO

"Will you please stop interfering with my work?"

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to help."

"You are taking food from the mouths of my children."

Caroline looked at Lucy's fierce glare and burst into laughter.

"Lucy Burton. You know perfectly well that you have no children."

"Nevertheless," Lucy said with asperity, "I will, someday, and I should like to have a respectable job, a job that includes baking the bread."

"Oh, all right. It's just that with Michael sleeping so much better now, I thought I could begin to help you again."

"I let you help me before the babe was born to take your mind off of things. Now you have him to attend to, and I am perfectly capable of handling the household duties on my own. Caroline."

"Very well. Lucy. I shall retire once again to my books. Oh, Lucy, did you see the latest copy of the newspapers that Mr. Stanhope was so good to send me?"

Lucy had always been careful to hide her inability to read, and simply gave Caroline a smile and said she had not.

"Oh, Lucy. It's so exciting. Geoffrey's brother William is to be received at the Court of St. James. While Lord Wellington was driving the French out of Spain, our soldiers were attacking two islands in the Americas. And apparently Captain Stanhope acted so promptly and courageously in covering their retreat both times that he may perhaps be knighted."

"How marvelous," Lucy said. 

'Isn't it?" Caroline gushed. "Oh and Lucy, Mr. Digby will be here at eleven o'clock."

Lucy's face quickly darkened.

"I don't like that man."

"You have made that all too plain, Lucy, and for the life of me I do not understand why."

Lucy bit her tongue and continued kneading the dough.

"He has ably managed my money, and he has promised that Geoffrey's estate will be settled very soon."

Lucy slammed the bread down on the counter.

"Why do you dislike him?" Caroline pressed her.

With a sigh, Lucy put the bread down and turned to her mistress.

"Because, Caroline -- because he leers at you."

"Oh, he does not."

"When you are not looking, he is continually glancing at your breasts," Lucy insisted.

Caroline stared at the girl in shock.

"That one day, two months back, when the baby didn't take enough milk? And it stained your dress? I thought he would come out of his trousers."

"Lucy!" Caroline was horrified by the very idea. "He is a gentleman."

"He is a man," Lucy said as she resumed her work with vigor. "Gentle ain't in it."

"Nevertheless," Caroline said.

"Nevertheless," Lucy mumbled with a significant look at her mistress's dress. 

When Caroline's lawyer arrived promptly at eleven, he was greeted by a girl in a clean apron and a forced smile. Lucy promptly showed him into the drawing room and curtly informed him that Mrs. Stanhope would be with him shortly.

It was the first time that she had kept him waiting, and he was displeased.

Jonathan Digby, Esq., was a man predisposed to displeasure. He had originally had high hopes for his provincial practice, assuming that it would bring him into contact with those he considered his betters. He fully expected that those gentlemen would recognize a kindred spirit in their midst, and help him ascend the ladder of social and political influence. Instead, he found himself only a step above absolute penury, relying for his bread on the crumbs thrown his way by the local merchants who saw him as a cut-rate solution to their tawdry problems.

The awe he had felt when Sir Edward Pelham had entered his office had long since disappeared. It had been replaced with resentment. He resented Caroline Stanhope's possession of assets that were now valued at over six thousand pounds. He resented the way that her brother continually questioned the fees that he charged Geoffrey Stanhope's estate. But what he resented most was Caroline's failure to act as if she had six thousand pounds, whether she deserved them or not. She still had the same threadbare sofa that she had had when he first visited her. The drawing room still possessed the same hideous drapes, the same horrid carpet, and the same floor still badly in need of refinishing. It was as if it were not worth spending any of her six thousand pounds in Dartmouth, because the town was only a temporary residence for her at this point. A temporary residence for her, and a permanent prison for him. 

He stood when she entered, disguising a frown at the thick, black dress she had selected for their meeting. It was true that she always wore black, but not always a dress in a fabric quite this heavy.

"Mrs. Stanhope." He bowed ever so slightly. "I trust I see you well."

"Thank you, Mr. Digby. I am well." This time she had not missed the way his eyes swept up her body as she entered the room. "What may I do for you?"

Lucy chose that moment to interrupt with the tea, and it wasn't until she had left, and closed the door behind her, that Digby felt comfortable beginning the discussion.

"First of all, Caroline, the good news," he said. "Your funds are doing well, and it appears that your next dividend will be in excess of what I had originally thought. Do you have any instructions, or shall I simply proceed as I have been?"

It was the same pro forma request that he made on each visit, and he was stunned when she failed to simper and agree that his choices to date had been perfect.

"I should like to purchase coal, Mr. Digby."

"Coal, Caroline?" 

"A cellar full of coal," she instructed. "For the winter."

"Caroline," he said after a pause to collect his thoughts, "I have a fiduciary duty to ensure that you spend your money wisely. It is only the third week in October. Are you worried about the coal merchants running low this year?"

"Do not make the mistake of patronizing me, Mr. Digby. I am not an educated woman in the classical sense, but I know enough to read books, and I understand the signs of a harsh winter approaching."

Caroline's books were another source of her attorney's displeasure. The idea of a woman in need of that many books was absurd.

"I apologize, Ca -- Mrs. Stanhope," he said slowly, bowing low to hide his face. "I meant no disrespect. I will of course follow your instructions as always. Now to the bad news. There will be an even longer delay in closing your late husband's estate. It seems that the will is being contested."

Caroline looked up sharply. "Contested?"

"Challenged, if you will. An attorney from Exeter has entered an appearance on behalf of the Earl of Prescott, claiming that the will is a forgery."

"Even if it were a forgery," Caroline seethed with indignation, "my position as Geoffrey's wife --"

"Is also being questioned," Digby said smoothly. 

"What?" Caroline froze.

This time it was a smile that Digby hid. This was the young, vulnerable girl that he had first met in May. The girl who had been heavy with child, unsure of what to do with the fortune that fate had dropped in her lap. The girl who would have come to place sole reliance on the financial acumen of her attorney but for that foppish brother of hers.

"They have produced a statement from the minister who performed your marriage ceremony," Digby coolly explained. "It is his opinion that the marriage was a sham, and that there was not valid consent on both sides."

"He lies," Caroline protested.

"Yes, of course. But a minister's word will be difficult to contradict, particularly in front of Judge Tutwell, whose brother is also a minister."

"But my brother, James, was there, and my two friends, Clara and Elizabeth."

A sodomite and two shopkeeper's assistants. Not a case that Jonathan Digby was looking forward to convince a barrister to try to make.

"I believe our best chance, in this instance, is to await the return of the Classic, whose officers witnessed your husband's will and will be able to attest to the validity of his signature."

"The Classic?" Caroline's shoulders sagged. "But Sir Edward just put to sea again."

The Classic had stopped in Portsmouth for a brief refit after its recent blockade duty, and Sir Edward had ridden over to pay his respects. He had informed Caroline that the Admiralty had in fact purchased both the frigate and the sloop, but was bound by the law to pay Lieutenant Stanhope's share of the prize into the chancery court where the will was being probated. It was only two weeks ago that she had received another letter from Sir Edward, indicating that he was sailing for another six months off the French Mediterranean coast.

"I fully understand your distress, Caro -- Mrs. Stanhope," Digby murmured. "And I have sent letters to Sir Edward, seeking his return at the first possible instance. In the meantime, though, you must be prepared for a delay of several months in obtaining your inheritance. Please rest assured that the dividends alone on the moneys under my management are more than ample for your current needs."

"But why?" Caroline lapsed once again into a miserable reverie. "Why would Geoffrey's father . . .?"

"Money," Digby answered confidently. "Money is the answer to everything."

********** 

"Money?" James Stanhope chortled over lunch on his next visit, in early November. "Your Mr. Digby seems to be a capable enough lawyer from what I have seen, but my father already has more money than Digby will see in his lifetime."

"Then what?" Caroline asked.

James answered after a long pause.

"He wants your name."

"My name?" Caroline gasped.

"Stanhope. At the moment he cannot bear the thought that you're Caroline Stanhope and that your son is Michael Stanhope."

"He is Geoffrey's son," Caroline protested before she suddenly understood the import of her father's efforts. "Oh, my God. If he proves that we were not validly married, then Michael..."

"Would be considered a bastard, yes," James finished the sentence. "But I shouldn't worry, Caroline. This is chancery court, after all, and they are more than happy to have an excuse to delay your case as long as possible. And then Sir Edward's return will permit the court to settle the will issue without ever having to reach the validity of your marriage."

"But if something were to happen to Sir Edward? What then?"

"Ah, well, my father has apparently already suborned the minister who performed the ceremony, and my understanding is that both of your young friends have been encouraged to emigrate, one to Canada and the other to Australia, both with unexpected new husbands and substantial new funds to help them on their way.

"But you still have me, Caroline."

Caroline stared at the intense expression on her brother's face. 

"But it would cost you, wouldn't it?" she asked softly. "The secret that your father threatened to reveal..."

"It would be embarrassing, yes. Both to me and to my, eh, current companion."

"Then I could not ask you to --"

"I will do it regardless of whether you ask or not, Caroline Stanhope," James said fiercely. "I have one brother who died bravely in battle, and another who may soon be knighted for his own bravery. My sister, rather than lose her husband to the madness of our father, has forsaken his money and settled in the New World."

His sudden smile broke the tension, and he waved a hand in the air with nonchalant grace.

"It is simply a question of upholding the family honor," he said breezily. He took a brief look around the room before turning back to Caroline. 

"Your family and mine."

"Thank you, James," Caroline murmured, putting her hand on his. "I hope it doesn't come to that."

"And I doubt it will. My father is a patriot, and is incapable, even in his most violent moods, of ordering that a British naval officer be harmed. And the chances of a single ship coming to grief, particularly given French cowardice, must be reckoned very small. No, Caroline. Do not fret. Sir Edward will return. He and his officers will attest to the will. And under English law, it matters not a whit whether you are married to Geoffrey if the will is valid."

"It matters to me," Caroline said fiercely.

"Of course it does," James comforted her. "But not to the court. They will probate the will, and ignore completely the question of your marriage. The money will be yours, along with your good name, and you will be able to raise little Michael in peace."

"How much longer do you think?" 

"I have made some discreet inquiries among some acquaintances of mine who are well-situated at the Admiralty," James winked. "I believe that His Majesty's Ship the Classic will be ordered to return for some unexpected repairs in the not too distant future."

Caroline sat back in her chair, relaxing for the first time since lunch had begun. 

"Speaking of my sister, though, I have brought you a letter." James smiled broadly as he handed over an envelope.

"From America? But we are at war."

"In general, yes," James admitted. "But more with some places than others, apparently. In the New England, where Courtney lives, it is considered more of an interference with trade than an actual war. In any event, letters pass back and forth via Canada, such as mine to her, and hers to you."

Dearest Caroline,

I write to welcome you to our family. Please accept my deepest condolences at the death of your husband, my youngest brother Geoffrey. I'm sure that you can believe that Geoffrey was at once my dearest friend and my greatest nemesis. I would never have believed that our estate contained quite so many toads and snakes if Geoffrey had not brought them to my attention by leaving them for me in my room. But my overriding memories are of the times when he took delight in explaining to me something new and wonderful that he had seen while out riding, even if I had been right next to him at the time he saw it. 

You have, as I'm sure you now realize, married into a complicated family. I have no doubt that Father is still a good man at heart, but his illness has driven all of us, with the exception of William, far, far away from him. Please pity him as I do, and join me in praying that one day his senses will be restored, and our family along with it. 

My husband and I have made a new life for ourselves here in America. Fortunately, Rory had some funds available to him, and we were able to establish ourselves as merchants in Boston, Massachusetts. Despite our uneasy relationship with the local Indians, our business has continued to grow, and when this wretched war is over, we may be able to make a return visit to England and Scotland. Perhaps our three -- Riley, age 7; Anne, age 5; and George, age 2 -- will be able to meet their cousin Michael, who is currently a future Earl of Prescott. And who is likely to remain so if William fails to settle down and persists in endangering his life with his mad heroics (which are a source of secret pride here although perhaps not received quite so well in President Madison's South).

Caroline saw a single tear fall to the page as she realized that her sister's letter was written without the knowledge that her father was trying to nullify the connection between the two of them, depriving Michael of any potential standing in the Stanhope family. 

When this wretched war is over, it will be easier for us to correspond. In the meantime, I have enclosed a drawing that Geoffrey had done of himself shortly after he joined the navy. As precious as it has always been to me, I am sure that you will treasure it more than I do, and I shall remain,

With love,

Courtney Hunter

Caroline opened the envelope and pulled out the small drawing. The artist had captured, even at the young age at which it must have been done, Geoffrey's wild joy and rakish grin. Her eyes brimming with a fresh set of tears, she suddenly thrust the drawing and letter away before the flood ruined the only picture that she would ever possess. "I could not bear not sharing his name," she finally said to William.

"There, there, my love." James put a hand on her arm. "The Classic will be home in due course. The question will not even arise."

The Classic arrived in London in mid-December. The necessary affidavits were executed and placed in the appropriate file in the chancery court's records. And there they sat. They were as cold as the rest of England was on the evening in the middle of January when Jonathan Digby knocked on Caroline Stanhope's door shortly after eight o'clock in the evening.

He smiled as he saw the door pulled open a crack.

"Mr. Digby?"

"Yes, Mrs. Stanhope, I hope I find you well."

"Er, yes, certainly. It has only been three days since we last spoke. Did we have another appointment?"

"No," Digby said with an affected shiver. "I was in the neighborhood, and simply stopped by to tell you the news."

"News?" Caroline yanked open the heavy door, and Digby stepped inside. It was a moment he had been dreaming about, and planning, ever since his last visit had ended. Even before then, as the cold had settled into Dartmouth, his thoughts had returned again and again to Caroline Stanhope and her cellar full of coal. In his view, the woman needed more than a husband. She needed to be pregnant once again, as she had been when he had first called upon her. She needed to have her lovely breasts kept filled with milk. Kept dripping with milk, in fact, for the benefit of both her babies and her husband.

He had been particularly careful on his recent visits, as he had instinctively sensed some discomfort on her part several months ago. The maid didn't like him, but he didn't much care. That little bitch, pretty in her own way, would be taken care of tonight as well. 




Cast Adrift - Book 01



But the bawling baby had the household in an uproar on his visit two days previously, and Caroline had not taken her usual care in dressing. Once again, his eyes caught sight of a stain on her dress, and he thought he could even see the outline of a soft nipple in the flimsy material. The whores in London always laughed at his particular fetish, although whenever one was nursing, they were eager to help him find her and share a small portion of her fee. For several months now, the cold had prevented his travel to London, and in that time he had grown more and more fixated on Caroline Stanhope.

This time, he was pleased to observe, because she had not been expecting him, Caroline was dressed even more to his liking. She was wearing a soft, frilled robe, evidently one of the few indulgences she had permitted herself in the last several months. Underneath it she would have nothing more than a cotton shift, for she would have only now finished nursing her young baby and sung him to sleep.

Digby had already spent some of his time and money learning all he could about his client's schedule, largely by taking advantage of her maid's willingness to flirt with the unemployed sailors who loitered about the streets of Dartmouth. Sailors who were more than happy to earn a few extra shillings by dropping a question or two into their conversations with the comely girl.

"You spoke of news?" Caroline asked excitedly as her guest slowly removed his hat and threadbare gloves. 

"News, yes. I hope I did not catch you a bad time, Caroline?"

"Oh, no. I thought you might be one of the neighbors, stopping by to stand a few minutes in front of the hearth."

"Ah, yes." He nodded toward the roaring fire. "Your coal. A very prudent investment."

"Thank you."

"As I recall, I advised against it. You were fortunate to keep your own counsel."

"Perhaps your knowledge lies in the law rather than the signs of nature," Caroline said agreeably.

"Yes, the law. The law is a funny thing, Caroline."

"I beg your pardon?"

"For example, were the law to understand that I was here at night, and that you met me, dressed as you are, it would presume that we were very good friends indeed."

"Mr. Digby!" Caroline protested.

"It would presume, in fact, that you had invited me here, on an evening when none of your neighbors were at home."

A number of traveling entertainments had abandoned the interior of the country for the slightly warmer southern coast, and the people of Dartmouth were taking full advantage. Caroline's eyes widened with horror as she realized that nearly everyone on her block, Lucy among them, had flocked to a newly arrived revue in the town's sole theatre.

"And it would recognize that now, just over a year after your first husband died, you have very appropriately decided to put aside your mourning clothes, no doubt in favor of finding a new father to support you and your son."

"You bastard," Caroline said with a hiss, backing toward the living room.

"The law would look upon me as the answer to your dreams, Caroline," Digby said as he slowly followed her into the room. "Just as I look upon you as the answer to mine."

He smiled as she turned wildly and located the fireplace poker, and then just as quickly spun back to make sure that he was not near enough to prevent her from reaching it. He continued to follow her until, trapped in a corner, she tried to run by him. He caught her arm without a second's thought, and pushed her back in place. In what he saw as a delicious irony, her own thriftiness proved his ally undoing. One of her slippers caught in one of the loose braids of her worn carpet, spilling her backward onto the floor. 

And then it was easy, even with his thin, almost bony frame. He fell atop her, driving his knee into her stomach and knocking the breath from her. The knotted sash of her robe proved little trouble, and while she was still gasping for breath, Digby yanked the robe over her head and tossed it across the room.

He gasped with delight as he realized that the babe had not taken all of her milk, and that her shift was stained. Grabbing its collar in his hands, he yanked Caroline to her feet and slammed her back against the wall, pinning her young body against the blue paint of the wall.

"No," she cried weakly, ineffectively trying to fend him off with her hands. She was no match for his obsessive rage. He effortlessly tore the shift down the front, exposing her breasts, her stomach, and, just above the end of the tear, the thick brown pubic hair between her thighs.

His right hand went to her throat, and Caroline clawed at it with both her hands. But then his left hand reached down to mercilessly squeeze one of her breasts, and she watched his face grow dark as he realized that he had not been rewarded with what he was so clearly seeking.

"Dry, bitch?" he rasped between manic laughter. "The milk whores in London told me that sometimes a little rubbing will stimulate production."

He removed his hand from her neck, confident that she was powerless to break his hold on her, and dropped it between her legs, forcing it between her thighs and finding the dry slit.

Digby's laughter was filled with malicious glee.

"There. Feels good, doesn't it, cunt? I can feel you growing wetter by the second."

Caroline could feel nothing of the kind. But she was horrified to feel the milk starting to well up in her nipple, not the one on the right breast that was clamped in her assaulter's disgusting hand, but the one on the other breast, the breast fully open to his leering eyes.

Her world spun, and the wind seemed to rush into her ears as she imagined the horrors that would be visited upon her next. His filthy mouth would be fastened to her breast, forever ruining her own baby's nursing for her. And then he would take out his...his prick, and force it roughly inside her. And so the knocking that she heard started as just one indistinguishable sound among many. It seemed to take forever for her to realize that it was a forceful fist rapping on her front door.

"Help!" she screamed at the top of her voice.

"Fuck!" Digby growled.

And suddenly he was gone, her body free of his groping, clutching hands. She was vaguely aware of him spinning across the room as she sank to the floor. Looking up, she saw only that her savior, who was turned away from her to face her attacker, wore a naval uniform.

Digby slowly rose to his feet, clearly cowed by the newcomer's obvious strength and fitness. The officer slowly stepped forward, and delivered an open-handed slap to Digby's cheek. Digby got up again, only to be slapped down once more.

"Let me up, you coward, and I will fight you." Jonathan Digby sneered as best as he could manage from his seat against the wall.

Or run, he added silently.

"As a man?" the officer sneered right back.

"As a man?" Digby was confused.

"In a duel?"

"Exactly," Digby insisted. "I challenge you to a duel."

"Very well. I accept."

Caroline could hear the delight in the officer's agreement, and when he turned around, she saw his rakish grin.

"Geoffrey," she said softly, her eyes fluttering as she pitched forward to the ground one more time.

CHAPTER THREE

Sitting on the floor of his client's drawing room, Jonathan Digby found his eyes widening in amazement at the apparent identity of the man who had put him there.

"You are - Geoffrey Stanhope?" he stammered out between his swollen lips.

"No, you ass, of course not," William Stanhope muttered. With a quick glance at his nearly naked sister, who lay stunned on the other side of the room, William grabbed Digby by the front of his shirt and jerked him to his feet. He reached down with his other hand and threw Caroline's robe back toward her, and then roughly pulled Digby into the foyer. 

William yanked open the front door and bellowed out, "Matthew!"

"Sir?" came the faint response from the pier a half a mile away.

"Bring two men to Number 7 Welmore Street!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Captain Stanhope dragged Digby outside and closed the door behind him.

Three men in the uniform of Captain Stanhope's barge crew arrived shortly thereafter at an energy-conserving trot.

"Andrews, Jenkins," William ordered. "This -- gentleman and I will be fighting a duel tomorrow at ten o'clock. Escort him home and make sure he shows up on Parkham Green. Oh, and find him a sword."

"Aye-aye, sir." The two men touched their knuckles to their foreheads and caught the "gentleman" as their captain threw him down the steps toward them.

"Wait here, Matthew," William said as he beckoned the other man into the foyer.

William hesitantly peered back into the drawing room, where Caroline had begun to recover. She was sitting up now, and had managed to pull her robe on. She looked up at him with dull, leaden eyes as he knelt in front of her.

"Caroline, I am so sorry I did not arrive earlier."

She reached up and touched his face.

"You're not Geoffrey."

"No. I'm William. We always looked very much alike. Are you able to stand? May I get you some water? Do you have a maid?"

"She is out for the evening," Caroline waved a weak hand in the general direction of the town's theatre as William helped her to a seat on the sofa. "Yes. Water. Thank you."

William strode back into the foyer.

"She has a maid who was conveniently away tonight. Find her. She's probably at that revue. Bring her back."

"Aye, sir. Name of?" 

William glanced back into the foyer, as if debating whether to bother Caroline with another question.

"No matter, sir," Matthew interrupted him. "I'll find 'er."

William found a pitcher of water in the kitchen and returned with a cup for Caroline. She drank greedily, as if the water could somehow instantly replace the milk that she was sure had been tainted by that animal's assault on her breast.

"Did I hear correctly?" she asked timidly after she had finished. "Do you really mean to fight a duel tomorrow?"

"Certainly." William gave her a grim smile. "I have no intention of turning him over to the law."

Caroline gave an involuntary shiver as she heard that word, the word that Digby had invoked so often.

"At most he would serve a brief jail term," William continued. 

"He is an attorney himself," Caroline whispered. "My attorney."

"Then it is more likely his friends could get him off with just a fine. This way, though, I shall be able to kill him."

"William!"

"He deserves no less, Caroline. He took advantage of you, alone in a dark neighborhood. He abused a position of trust to gain entrance to your house."

"But he could kill you, too."

"With a pistol, perhaps. Any fool can get lucky with a pistol. With a sword, no. That is why I forced him to challenge me, rather than the other way around, so that the choice of weapons would be mine."

Caroline stared, open-mouthed, at her brother.

"Dueling is not a pleasant business, Caroline," he said, albeit with a smile that told her that he did not regret his decision for a moment.

A few minutes later, the front door opened, and William was instantly on his feet as he heard a hesitant "sir?"

"The maid -- Lucy? -- she's been raped, sir," Matthew said as his captain strode into the foyer. "I've got two men bringing her here in a cart, and two more after the bloke who asked her out tonight."

"So she was lured away?"

"'ppears so, sir," Mathews said.

"Damn that miserable bastard," William muttered. "Can you see to her when she's brought in?"

"Aye, sir. I'm headed there now."

William fetched Caroline a second glass of water before sitting next to her on the sofa.

"It appears, Caroline, that your maid was assaulted as a part of the scheme to assault you."

"Lucy?" Caroline started. "Is she hurt?"

"I don't know. My coxswain said only that she was assaulted. Two of my men are bringing her here, and others are seeking her attackers."

Caroline exhaled. "What a horrible day."

"I am so sorry, Caroline."

"Oh, William. If it hadn't been for you it would have been a far worse day, for me at least."

"Caroline, you need to leave."

"Leave? But the baby, and . . ."

"Come to London, with Michael. Spend a month, Caroline. You need to be away from Dartmouth for a while."

"Oh, William. London -- how kind of you to ask. But the baby, and . . ."

"Yes, London, Caroline. Where you could listen to music, see a play, or just read the latest books. I could arrange a nice comfortable carriage for you, with inns along the way."

"Oh, God, no."

The words seemed to have been torn out of her.

"Caroline?"

She looked up, tears in her eyes, and shook her head.

"I cannot," she whispered.

"Cannot what, Caroline?"

"The road to London goes through Exeter. I cannot go to Exeter."

"Why not?"

"My father." She began to sob quietly. "He died in Exeter Prison when his fellow merchants called in all of his debts. And I swore that I would never pass through that town again."

"Caroline, do not worry," William said with a smile. "I have a ship."

"A ship?"

"Yes, the Wallace. We are headed for London, in fact. A few extra passengers will cause no inconvenience. Please, Caroline. It would do you such good."

"It would," Caroline agreed, patting his hand gently. "Very well, if Lucy can bear the voyage, I --" 

The door burst open, admitting two men with a wooden bench on which lay the senseless form of Lucy Burton. Matthew was walking alongside the bench, his hand gripped tightly by Lucy's much smaller fingers as he murmured gently into her ear.

"Lucy!" Caroline exclaimed. "Bring her in here. Put her on the couch. William, please bring us some water and then leave us."

Matthew watched in amusement as his captain sprang to follow his sister's brusque order. William returned with the entire pitcher, and found Caroline brushing the dirt from her maid's hair.

"Caroline," he asked hesitantly, "shall I send for a physician?"

"No," she said with a brief shake of her head. "There is little that medicine can do. Her healing has to come from within."

"Very well. I shall leave my coxswain, Matthew Cooper, in the house for the night, Caroline."

"That is not necessary, William."

"I think it best, though, sister."

He excused himself and rejoined Matthew, who had retreated once again to the foyer after Caroline had pried his hand free of Lucy's.

"I would like you to stay here in case Mrs. Stanhope or her maid require anything further."

"Aye, sir. With just the women?"

"I'm sure you'll be fine, Matthew."

"And report to you at the Green on the morrow?"

"I'm sure I'll be fine, too, Matthew. Now where is the little snake who was to escort Lucy to the theatre?

Matthew scratched his head. "You see, sir, he were accidentally scragged, like, after he were found."

"You hung him?"

"Sir, it seems he took a tumble off the pier when some of the larboard watch was leadin' him to the barky."

"Leading him with a rope around his neck, and his hands tied behind his back?"

"It was thought the most conwenient way of ensuring his timely arrival, sir."

"Indeed, Matthew. Where is the body now?"

"Oh, with the tides around here, sir, that would be right hard to say at this point."

"I see."

"He did peach on the two others, though, and that attorney bloke what put him up to it," Matthew added cheerfully.

"Very good, Matthew. And those two?"

"What acted as 'is lookouts? Safely on the barky, sir. Always in need of a good lookout, we are."

"Yes."

"So once that other what you so-called a gentleman is out of the way, it looks to be all finished, sir."

"Thank you, Matthew. I quite understand."

"Aye-aye, sir."

**********

The so-called gentleman was run through the belly shortly after ten o'clock the following morning, his presence on the dueling ground having been guaranteed by his escort of two sailors off his opponent's sloop.

When William returned to Caroline's house, his satisfaction was slightly diminished, however, by the upheaval he found inside.

"Is there trouble, Matthew?"

"You might say so, sir. It seems that the babe, your nephew -- Michael? I didn't know you had a nephew, sir."

"Matthew," William growled.

"Aye, sir. It appears that young Michael was unable to, um -- that is to say, that Mrs. Stanhope here, sir, is no longer, er, capable."

"Of what?"

"Sir?"

"No longer capable of what?"

"That is to say, sir, of, er, of her duties to young Michael."

"You mean she needs a wet nurse?"

An expression of palpable relief spread over the coxswain's craggy features.

"Well, find her one."

"Sir?" Matthew asked shakily. "Miss Lucy, sir, believes that she can remedy the problem with a brew."

"You have no intention of leaving this house to find a wet nurse, do you, Matthew?"

"Nay, sir," Matthew said as he started down at his shoes.

William rolled his eyes and took to the streets. The impressive uniform of a naval master and commander produced nearly instant results, and within ten minutes he had located one Miss Sarah Parker, who had lost her own young baby two weeks ago, and would be grateful to accompany Mrs. Stanhope anywhere she chose to go.

********** 

Caroline waited for the roll of the ship, and then dropped a perfect curtsy.

"Captain Stanhope," she said with a triumphant smile.

"Mrs. Stanhope," William answered. "Welcome to the captain's cabin, such as it is."

"Oh, it's glorious, William. Such wonderful woodwork. And such lovely silver."

"Ah, well that doesn't come with the ship, I'm afraid. I had to buy that myself. May I offer you some wine?"

"Thank you."

"I confess that I am surprised to see you. I expected my invitation to be turned down due to the usual bout of seasickness."

"Sarah, I'm afraid, is absolutely prostrate in the cabin you were so kind to give us. But Lucy and I have not suffered at all."

"How is Lucy?"

Caroline sighed.

"She still claims to have no memory of the attack. I simply do not understand it."

"I do not doubt her. I have known similar forgetfulness in men after a particularly hard-fought battle."

"What will happen to her? Will the memory suddenly rush back in upon her?"

"I honestly do not know."

"I hope not. And to me?"

"I am even more at sea there than I usually am," William said with a smile.

"Well, thank goodness for Sarah. And for your Mister Cooper."

"Matthew? What's he done now?"

"Oh, Lucy has simply attached herself to him. It appears to cause him no end of discomfort."

"Matthew grew up on a farm with his father and four brothers," William explained. "And then joined His Majesty's Navy. Women are the only thing that I know him to be afraid of."

"And Lucy delights in it no end, I assure you."

A knock at the door preceded the entrance of a very young officer.

"Yes, Mr. Rutledge? Oh, excuse me. Mrs. Stanhope, permit me to introduce Mr. Rutledge, one of our midshipman."

"Mr. Rutledge," Caroline acknowledged.

"Ma'am," Rutledge lifted his hat. "The master's compliments, sir. We just spoke to a fishing boat whose captain claims that the Thames is froze solid in London, sir."

"Very well, Mr. Rutledge. Have him set course for Portsmouth."

"Aye, sir. Steward, sir."

"Tucker, what do you have for us today?"

"A fine roast, sir, what came compliments of the Dartmouth sheriff. Seems we did him a favor taking those two lookouts we traded to the Renown."

"Ah, yes. May I help you to a slice, Caroline?"

"Thank you, William."

"No, it is I who thank you, Caroline. The hands were quite pleased with our stop in Dartmouth. When we returned to Jamaica to restock the ship, we were ordered to immediately set sail for London. No explanations, no time for even a drop of water or a single bag the mail. Now, though, we have fresh food and water, even if we will be in Portsmouth in a day."




Cast Adrift - Book 01



"Surely they ordered you home to attend the Regent, William."

"The Regent! Why should I wish to attend the Regent? For that matter, more to the point, why should the Regent wish me to attend him?

"To recognize your valor, of course. In the war. It was in the papers."

William rolled his eyes.

"By now they will have been informed what an unmitigated disaster the whole thing was, and I am quite sure that they will have reconsidered."

But they had not reconsidered by the time the ship reached Portsmouth. Mr. Milton, an Admiralty messenger, was waiting there to urge all haste upon Captain Stanhope. A carriage carrying the entire party flew from Portsmouth to London, changing horses twice along the way. It was a cozy ride, with Caroline, Lucy, and Sarah occupying one seat and William and a sullen Mr. Milton, who quite clearly had not anticipated that a seven-month old baby would be accompanying him back, the opposite one.

"Oh, there it is!" Caroline exclaimed as the carriage crested a hill. "London."

Lucy and Sarah craned their necks to look out of Caroline's window. William smiled at the delight on their faces.

"Yes, London never fails to thrill the country mind," Mr. Milton said in a well-practiced tone that was calculated to show his opinion of his fellow riders without completely alienating their sponsor.

His calculation proved erroneous. William opened his mouth to snap at the man, but Caroline was there first.

"'And Kings be born of thee, whose dredded might shall aw the World, and Conquer Nations bold.' A relation of yours, Mr. Milton?" Caroline asked sweetly.

"Madam?" he responded coldly.

"A reference to London in poem reprinted in the history of Britain by the poet John Milton, who perhaps recognized the same thrill. An ancestor?"

"Actually, yes, madam, according to family legend."

"How wonderful. So you must have read the history."

"Er, no, madam, I have not had the privilege."

"Then I do recommend it to you, Mr. Milton. Please, when we reach London, tell me whether you should like me to send home to Dartmouth for the volume so that you may borrow it."

Caroline sat back in the seat, observing her brother's delighted smile with considerable satisfaction.

But in the end they were several days too late. They drove straight to the Admiralty, reaching it in the very late afternoon. 

"Not frozen yet, Matthew?" James asked as he departed through the door held by his coxswain. The man had spent the trip riding with the coachman.

"Oh, no, sir. Nothing like the North Sea in a gale, is it?"

"See that the ladies are taken care of, Matthew, while I go to meet their Lordships."

While William was whisked off to meet with the Lords of the Admiralty, Matthew successfully badgered an aging civil servant into showing the women to a lavishly furnished anteroom. That man was just exiting the room, having truculently acceded to Matthew's demand that the ladies be provided with tea, when his eyes widened at the sight of the two men walking toward him.

William was followed in by an older gentleman in civilian clothing, and it was all the poor man could do to keep from snapping to attention as they pushed passed him into the room.

"Caroline, please allow me to present Lord Melville, the First Lord of the Admiralty. Lord Melville, my sister, Caroline Stanhope."

"Mrs. Stanhope." Lord Melville took her hand in both of his as she stood. "I am delighted to meet you. I heard such wonderful things about your late husband from Sir Edward, and we all mourn his passing."

"Thank you, my Lord, for you kindness."

"And now here you are in London. Unfortunately, the Regent has decided to visit his estates elsewhere, so that the small ceremony we had planned will have to be postponed. Captain Stanhope tells me that you might be interested in the theatre, however, and I would be most happy if you would be able to make use of my box tomorrow night at the Drury Lane Theatre. A Mr. Kean is appearing in a brand new production of The Merchant of Venice."

Caroline shot a quick glance at William, uncertain of what etiquette demanded. He nodded his head fractionally, and she turned back to Lord Melville.

"I should be most happy, Lord Melville."

"Excellent. I shall have my man bring the tickets to Lord William's tomorrow morning. Now if you ladies will excuse me, I must see about defeating this damnable Bonaparte. Ah, Perkins, there you are. Capital idea, that tea. Good man."

"Thank you, sir," the man said, closing the door behind the First Lord before the women and Matthew started laughing.

"Lord William?" Caroline asked William with a raised eyebrow.

"Force of habit, I'm afraid," he smiled. "Sometimes he forgets to address me as plain Captain Stanhope and I revert to the Earl's heir. Speaking of Lord William's, however, we had best get you ladies settled before darkness falls."

He quickly escorted the women back to the carriage and gave the driver an address in one of the better parts of town. And there, walking down the steps of the enormous townhouse where the carriage stopped was a familiar face.

"James. How nice of you to meet us," Caroline said as she extended her hand to allow James to kiss it.

"My pleasure. William's messenger foretold your arrival only yesterday, and I have been busy shaking up the household staff. I wonder you do not dismiss them all, William. A lazier group of slubberdegullions I have yet to see."

"Now, now, Mr. James Stanhope," said an older woman who had bustled out the door immediately after James. "There's no need for you to show off your fancy education or call us any names. The house is clean and fit for visitors, my Lord, despite your brother's attempts to rearrange all of your furniture."

"It was just a few beds," James said in as surly a voice as his smile would allow.

"Thank you, Mrs. Woodward," William said smoothly. "I'm sure it's all quite perfect. This is Mrs. Stanhope, Miss Burton, and Miss Parker. There in Miss Parker's arms is young Michael Stanhope."

"Your nephew?" the housekeeper cried with delight as she stepped up to coo at the waking baby.

"Yes," William said. "Terrible when you're no longer the center of attention in your own house, eh, James? Ah, Briggs, just help Matthew bring those things into the house, would you? Then I believe we would all be grateful for an early dinner, Mrs. Woodward."

Slowly at first, but then with breathtaking speed, Caroline found herself submerged in Regency London. William had not visited in a year, and was obviously considered a prize catch among the women in the upper echelons of society. That he paid so much attention to one woman was at first a source of jealousy, but word quickly circulated that she was his late brother's wife, and the women's envy at their familiarity quickly turned to derision. Caroline, after all, had none of their advantages, other than her fresh good looks. She was not versed in current London fashions, much less the Paris fashions of a year or two ago that were only now making their way across the Channel. She had apparently never learned to apply powder or rouge. She did not even converse properly, having a much more plainspoken manner than any of the women to whom she was introduced.

At the various parties to which she was invited, or which, far more often, William urged her to attend as his guest, she could sense the stares of the others, the halted confidences, the quiet snickering. A breeze from a window would bring her words like "provincial" and "dowdy." She found herself looking, far too eagerly and often, for William or James to cut her out of the small groups of women with which she was forced to spend time. But James attended very few of the parties, and William was almost always talking about the American War with other men of property and influence.

"Colonel Heatherington took me to the most marvelous performance at the Drury Lane Theatre the other evening," said Jane Arbuthnot, the leader of the small circle of women in which Caroline had found herself trapped at this particular party.

"I do so adore the theatre," Katherine Packenham said. "I suspect you did not have much theatre in Dartmoor, Mrs. Stanhope."

Both women had been unsuccessful in attracting the favors of Captain Stanhope, and were quite pleased to have someone so close at hand on whom they could take out their frustration.

"Dartmouth," Caroline corrected her. "No, we did not. But I did enjoy the Drury's Merchant of Venice several weeks ago. Is that what you saw, Miss Arbuthnot?"

"Perhaps," Jane laughed. "One so seldom goes to the theatre to actually watch the theatre, Mrs. Stanhope. One usually goes to be seen going to the theatre."

"Oh, I am sorry," Caroline replied. "It really was such a marvelous interpretation. My understanding is that all London is talking about it."

"Perhaps all the other parts," Katherine answered with a gay laugh.

"Perhaps," Caroline acknowledged. "But it was such a well done and sympathetic interpretation of Shylock that the audience burst into applause on any number of occasions."

"Yes, they were tiresome," Jane said. "Shylock would have been the Jew, would he not?"

"Why, yes," Caroline smiled.

"What the world needs, Mrs. Stanhope, is not a more sympathetic interpretation of Jews, but simply fewer Jews."

"I am sorry you feel that way, Miss Arbuthnot. Mr. Kean's performance is fully supported by Shakespeare's text."

"That may be so." Katherine had decided to add her opinion. "It wouldn't surprise me, Mrs. Stanhope, to learn that you spent a great deal of your time with your nose in a book. Perhaps the London air will improve your complexion."

"Perhaps," Caroline said again to the woman, this time through clenched teeth.

**********

"Lord William, I do so apologize for dragging you away from your acquaintances in London," Caroline said morosely as she once again dined in the Captain's cabin on board H.M.S. Wallace. 

"Caroline, let me assure you first that you did no such thing. I could see how unhappy those harridans had made you. The only one who seemed to be enjoying herself was Lucy."

"Lucy will enjoy herself wherever she has a chance to tease your Mr. Cooper. But your ceremony..."

"The Regent is not expected back until the end of February. More than enough time for me to run you home and return. And you were miserable, my dear. Even if you had avoided parties entirely, I daresay you would have remained miserable for quite a time to come. So there is no need to apologize for my having offered to return you to Dartmouth. Second, Caroline, if you call me Lord William again I shall have you towed behind us in the jolly boat until we reach port."

"I beg your pardon, William. And thank you again for making arrangements for Sarah and Michael to return by carriage."

"Again, Caroline, it is nothing. If the wind holds in our favor, you may perhaps reach Dartmouth before they do.

"Yes, come in," he called in answer to a knock.

The ship's other midshipman, Mr. Chapman, entered with a worried look on his face.

"Mr. Wainwright's compliments, sir," he said, naming the ship's lieutenant. "The glass is dropping very fast."

"Very well, has he reduced sail?"

"To bare poles, sir."

"Bare poles?"

"He says he has never seen it drop so quickly, sir."

"Very well. I shall be on deck shortly."

"What is it?" Caroline asked as William pushed himself away from the table.

"A storm," William said with a worried expression. "And if it's a storm that Lieutenant Wainwright has not seen before, it must be quite a storm indeed."

CHAPTER FOUR



26 February 1814

H.M.S. Wallace

My Lords,

I have the privilege of informing your Lordships of our meeting with the newly commissioned French frigate L'Empereur two days ago. Following the gale of 20 February, we found ourselves driven far from our intended course and the mizzenmast shattered by lightning. Shortly after we had cleared the wreckage away, we spotted the French ship in the northeast. I deemed it best to avoid a meeting, but because of our condition was unable to carry out that particular plan. Accordingly, we adopted a somewhat unusual ruse de guerre in order to convince her captain that we were a French merchant ship. Particular credit for the success of our deception goes to Able Seaman Paul Laphin and a passenger, my late brother's widow, Mrs. Caroline Stanhope.

William paused, his pen poised above the inkwell as he wondered just how much of the ruse de guerre he should put in the official letter. Word of what had happened would quickly circulate throughout Portsmouth, where they would presently make port, and would eventually find its way to the Admiralty. That would be enough, he thought, recalling the events of that particular day with a broad smile on his face.

"Oh, my heavens!" Caroline had exclaimed when she came out on deck, blinking in the morning sunlight that finally shone upon the ship. "One of your . . . your --"

"Masts," William filled in the word.

"Yes, one of your masts is missing."

"Lightning, I'm afraid. It will be a rather slow crawl back to Portsmouth after all."

"Where are we?"

"Ah," William answered, "that is just what we were trying to determine. Thank you, Mr. Martin. We are all agreed as to the latitude, of course, but our only chronometer has been damaged, and I have asked Mr. Martin and our young midshipmen here to make their own calculations of our longitude. Let me see. Well, Mr. Rutledge believes that we are re-tracing Hannibal's route across the Alps."

He cocked an eyebrow at the young officer, who was making sure that he had applied sufficient polish to his shoes that morning.

"And Mr. Chapman has us about to enter Halifax harbor in Canada."

Mr. Chapman was intently examining the men cutting away the last of the fallen rigging.

"The master, on the other hand," William said with a nod toward Mr. Martin, "has us slightly west of the Bay of Biscay. I concur, Mr. Martin. Let's proceed northeast until we get a little closer to Brest, and then we'll head north for home."

"Very good, sir," the master answered. "We should have this cleared away shortly and be ready to make sail."

William nodded absently, and turned back to invite Caroline to breakfast.

"Sail ho!"

"Where away?" William yelled up to the lookout.

"Nor'east, sir. Hull-down. I can only see the tops of 'er sails, but she looks French."

"Damn. Belay that earlier order, master. The storm must have driven the blockading squadron off the coast, and Boney's got one of his ships to sea. In our condition, we'd be sitting ducks, even for another sloop. Let alone something larger. Better head northwest until we can lose him."

The master headed back for the wheel to give his orders, and William finally issued his invitation. They had no sooner finished breakfast, however, when he was summoned back to the quarterdeck for more bad news.

"I think she's seen us, sir," Mr. Martin said. "A frigate. She's throwin' out signals."

"Damn," William said again. "We've got the weather-gage, but not the ship to use it. Yes, Mr. Wainwright?"

"It's Cooper, sir," the ship's lieutenant said. "He has an idea you might like to hear."

"Matthew?"

"Paul Laphin, sir, the Guernseyman in the foreguard?"

"Yes?" 

"Well, sir, it's 'is opinion, like, that if we removed the stump of this mizzenmast here, we would look very much like one o' them Biscayans that cruise up and down these here waters."

William smiled.

"And the gunports, Matthew? Most Biscayans don't have quite so many guns."

"Aye, sir," the coxswain agreed nervously. "But I was thinking, sir, that if we strung the ship with bunting, like, for a celebration o' the captain's wedding, we could pull the cap over their eyes, like, for a good while."

Captain Stanhope stared at his coxswain, more impressed with the man's cunning than he was willing to let on.

"Let us suppose that we can do so. What is preventing her from coming within hailing distance and inviting the bride and groom over for a dinner?"

"Nothing, sir," Matthew said with a crooked smile.

"And how do you propose that I pull that off? I don't have more than five words of French, and I know for a fact that Mr. Wainwright speaks less than I do."

"Aye, sir, but Paul, 'e speaks a sort of Channel French, and, um, Mrs. Stanhope, sir --" 

"Absolutely not," William ruled it out immediately. "We will do nothing to endanger Mrs. Stanhope or her maid."

"Aye, sir," Matthew agreed. "Although being as how the Frenchies are right over the horizon and all..."

"It's a good point, Matthew," William said after another minute's consideration. "Are you sure that Mrs. Stanhope speaks French?"

"Oh, aye, sir. Which I heard her speaking with your cook at home, sir, what has the French."

"Very well. Mr. Wainwright, please pass the word for -- excuse me, please ask Mrs. Stanhope and Miss Burton to join me on deck. I believe that Mrs. Stanhope is still finishing breakfast. And Miss Burton is probably, um . . ."

"In the cabin, sir," Matthew said quietly. "Which I brought her her breakfast this morning."

"Yes," William drawled. "In the cabin. Mr. Wainwright, I want this mast unstepped and the hole covered with whatever cargo you can find. And then break down everything on the deck that marks us as a British naval vessel. Hoist the French colors. And get every man-jack who's not needed elsewhere to work on sewing bunting. Those bastards are going to sew like they've never sewed before. Oh, not you, Matthew. No, no. You wait here for the moment."

"Sir?" Matthew asked suspiciously.

"Ah, Mrs. Stanhope, Miss Burton," William said with a smile. "I trust you slept well, Miss Burton."

Without waiting for an answer, William launched into an explanation of the plan, concluding with the request that the women immediately set to work sewing a French dress for Mrs. Stanhope to use later that afternoon.

"We shall be more than happy to," Caroline answered, "although..."

"Although what?"

"Although we are both tolerable seamstresses, Captain, we are neither one of us particularly quick."

"So you might need some assistance? Matthew."

William turned to his coxswain with a knowing smile.

"Sir?"

"Who's the best tailor on board?"

"The best tailor, sir? That would be . . ." Matthew looked about him wildly. "That would be, er..."

"That would be you, would it not, Matthew?" "Aye, sir," Matthew said in resigned whisper.

"Very well, report to the cabin and place yourself under Mrs. Stanhope's orders." 

William watched them walk away, Caroline with a determined expression, Matthew with a hangdog look, and Lucy perfectly delighted at the turn of events.

The day that followed was one of the most tense that Captain William Stanhope had ever experienced. Covered in cloth bunting, the Wallace was indeed required to come within hailing distance of the French ship, where Laphin's fear nearly queered the deal. The man was so scared of giving away the ruse that he was even more taciturn than usual. 

Fortunately, Caroline was superb. A spring thaw was already starting to warm the sea air, and Caroline took full advantage. She, Lucy, and Matthew worked furiously to reproduce a dress that she had seen in London, one that provided a nearly obscene display of décolletage. Even Captain Stanhope, dressed in an ordinary merchant seaman's outfit, had stared when she came on deck. Once they grew close to the French ship, she explained the situation in perfect French, charming the French captain as well as the leering sailors that seemed to have an astonishing amount of work to do in the frigate's rigging. As William had expected, an invitation brought the happy couple over to the French ship for a celebratory supper. Hours passed, with William's anxiety at the danger to which he had exposed his sister gnawing at his churning stomach.




Cast Adrift - Book 01



Finally, he heard Matthew's whispered "there it is." A boat was putting off from the L'Empereur, and he could see Caroline waving gaily to the officers and men of the French ship as it pulled away.

"Thank God," he breathed in her ear as she was hoisted aboard in a makeshift sling and Laphin came climbing up the side ropes. "I was so scared. What did you learn, Laphin?"

"It weren't me, sor," said the Guernseyman, still itching at his makeshift merchant captain's coat. "She had them give 'er a tour of the whole place while I sat and drank brandy with the captain, Captain Marchand it was."

"The ship is brand new and they are quite proud of it," Caroline said quietly. "They have forty-four guns and four carronades. A crew of 200 serving together for the first time. The captain would have rolled out the guns for practice if I had not dissuaded him, although he confided that it would be a fairly ragged practice. The guns are new, apparently, and the crews new to them. And they did leave Brest so hastily, it seems, that they had not yet received their complement of soldiers."

"So there will be nobody in the rigging when we attack," William said with a grin. "And inexperienced gun crews as well. Excellent. Caroline, you were marvelous. How was the dinner, Laphin?"

"Oh, quite good, sor. Much like we used to eat at 'ome."

"And they were impressed with you and your new wife?"

"Quite impressed with Madame Laphin." The seaman finally cracked a grin. "I didn't have to say hardly anythin' at all, sor. They never took their eyes off of her." "William, what did you mean when you said attack?"

When William turned to answer her question, Caroline saw the same smile on his face that she had first seen in her Dartmouth house, after he had maneuvered the attorney Digby into challenging him to a duel.

"Another day of keeping company with our French friends will be absolutely fatal," William explained. "Then again, if we part company, even tonight, they will sound the alarm and catch us quite easily. And if we wait until morning, they will send us into Brest under their guns. No, our only chance, it seems to me, is to take the battle to them tonight. They will reduce sail tonight in this wind, just as we have done. But we shall wait until the very middle of the middle watch and pack the sail on again. When we catch up, we will send a broadside into them from the starboard guns, and then board them, every last one of us, in the confusion. I will have to ask that you and Lucy wait in the forepeak, Caroline. It is the safest place on the ship."

"But we only have sixteen guns!" Caroline protested. "You cannot attack a forty-four gun frigate with only sixteen guns."

"Perhaps not. But otherwise we are prisoners in Brest for the duration, eh, Mr. Wainwright?"

"Quite true, miss," the lieutenant bowed to his captain's request with his own smile flitting across his usually saturnine features.

"Very well," Caroline sighed. "And who will be steering the ship while every last one of you is away?"

"Ah. We will leave young Fletcher behind."

"Thomas Fletcher? He is just a boy!"

"Yes, Caroline. But almost man-sized now. If he were any older, he would be boarding with the rest. As it is, we will not be able to reduce sail before we board, so he will be forced to keep the Wallace from outsailing our enemy. Proper fools we should look if the sun rises tomorrow and finds us all aboard the L'Empereur with no English ship in sight."

Our ruse, however, had the unfortunate effect of requiring that we spend additional time in company with the French ship, and as we neared the French coast, I determined that it would be necessary to attempt to board her. During the middle of the night, we fired our starboard guns upward into her gun deck, which had the salutary, although at the time unknown, result of sending a substantial number of her guns rolling across her gun deck, and of filling her main ladderway with debris from the upper deck. 

As a result, most of the French sailors who were below decks at the time we boarded proved unsuccessful in reaching us before the battle was over. This, along with the bravery of the Wallace's men, no doubt accounts for our small casualty list: one dead (Able Seaman Caleb Jones was killed by a French pistol) and twelve wounded. The battle that followed aboard the French vessel lasted less than half an hour, and ended with the surrender of Captain Edouard Marchand's sword to me at three minutes past three o'clock in the morning.

In particular, I must commend to your Lordships the efforts of Lieutenant Andrew Wainwright, Midshipmen Arthur Rutledge and John Chapman, and my coxswain, Matthew Cooper, without whose efforts my name would have been added to the list of the dead and wounded.

The French lieutenant had borne down on him, his sword raised high for a lethal slice. He had just turned back to the fray minutes before, after a glance over the side had shown him an alarming sight: the Wallace was drifting aimlessly to port, away from the L'Empereur, the idiot boy he had left as helmsman apparently paying little attention to the position of the two ships.

"Hard a-starboard, Fletcher, you ass!" he bellowed as loudly as he could over the sounds of the fierce fighting on the French ship's exposed decks. In half a minute he was engaged again. He parried two more pike thrusts offered by one of the French seaman before thrusting his sword into the man's stomach. And then he had slipped and fallen, attracting the attention of the French officer who eagerly seized his opportunity to kill the English commander. That man had rushed toward him, and only Cooper's well-timed hurl of his boarding axe had deflected the Frenchman's aim enough to allow William to roll out of harm's way.

And even that would have counted for nought, since the Frenchman recovered quickly and Cooper was in no position to render any further assistance, if the entire ship hadn't been rocked by a hard collision with the Wallace. It was enough to throw the young French lieutenant to his knees, allowing William sufficient time to recover his own sword and drive it through the poor man's thigh.

And then, just as quickly as it had begun, the battle had ended, the French captain having finally barreled out of his cabin with his pistol, only to be knocked down by Paul Laphin and dragged over to where William was surveying the scene on deck. By then, his men had pulled one of the upper deck carronades into position against the aft ladderway, and his Marines had surrounded the fore ladderway, effectively eliminating the chance for French reinforcements to storm the deck. Captain Marchand eventually returned to consciousness and was asked for his surrender. After his own quick survey of the situation, he withdrew his sword from its sheath and offered it to William.

William had jumped back down to the Wallace after leaving a substantial prize crew aboard the French ship. He looked up at the wheeldeck, smiling to himself as he looked toward the helm. The boy might have paying scant attention earlier, but his response to William's "Hard a-starboard" had been hard enough to save his captain's life. Another look, in fact, suggested that it might have not have been inattention at all. The lifeless body of a French seaman was sprawled across the rail. Another lay groaning nearby, a first jammed into his bloody stomach.

"So, you young whoreson," William roared happily. "You got your first taste of combat, eh?"

"Indeed," a high-pitched voice responded, as the figure at the wheel took off its hat and shook out its long, dark hair. "And if you call me a young whoreson again, dear brother, I shall quite happily take you up on your previous offer to tow me back home in your jolly boat."

It is with equal parts of mortification and delight, however, that I must give pride of place to one sailor in particular. I had assigned ship's boy Thomas Fletcher to the wheel, and when one of his legs was taken off just above the ankle by the only cannon that the French were able to bring to bear, he had the presence of mind, despite fainting twice along the way, to make his way to the ship's forepeak. There he explained the desperate situation to Mrs. Stanhope, who donned a pair of trousers and a shirt, both belonging to my coxswain, that she and her maid had just finished repairing as they awaited the outcome of the battle in a place of safety. Instructing her maid to see to Fletcher, she took his hat and pistol and hurried back to the wheel, where she was just in time to respond to my shouted command to turn the wheel hard a-starboard.

That alone would have entitled her to the unending gratitude of the officers and crew of the Wallace. However, Mrs. Stanhope was not finished. Without the knowledge of those of us on the deck of the L'Empereur, two French seamen had dropped to our ship as the battle raged. They advanced on the wheel. In the darkness, wearing a hat, shirt, and trousers, I have no doubt that Mrs. Stanhope looked very much like the youngster they might have expected.

"Allors, vous êtes le lâche ils encore derrière," the first Frenchman said.

Mrs. Stanhope lost not a moment in replying: "Non, monsieur. Je suis la veuve du Geoffrey Stanhope de lieutenant et la mère de son fils." She pulled Fletcher's pistol from her waistband and coolly shot the Frenchman in the chest. The second Frenchman looked on, stunned, as his comrade fell forward against the railing, and Mrs. Stanhope calmly seized the first man's pistol from his waistband and discharged it into the stomach of the second. The first Frenchman died; the second has recovered, as has young Fletcher, both of them in large part due to Mrs. Stanhope's care on the voyage home.

William had pieced together that story from Lucy, Fletcher, and the wounded Frenchman when the latter two were not busy feigning additional pains to attract the attention of their very attractive nurse. Lucy, meanwhile, was acting as a nurse aboard the French ship, where Matthew Cooper, not surprisingly, was part of the prize crew. 

It was certainly the most exciting letter he had ever drafted to higher authority, and he had no doubt that its contents would be prominently featured in the next Gazette. He finished the letter, putting in the relative strengths of the French and English ships, and of their crews. Their Lordships would like nothing more than a victory over a new French frigate named for the Emperor, unless it was a victory by a far more lightly gunned ship with a much smaller crew. With a smile he handed it to his steward, to give to one of the coasters that they had stopped off the coast of England. It would take the Wallace and its prize another two days to beat slowly into Portsmouth, but by then the news would have echoed throughout the streets of London, and up and down the coast of England.

**********

Captain Stanhope studied himself in the mirror of a small room in St. James Palace. He was wearing his best uniform, of course, carefully cleaned and brushed by his steward.

"Yes?" he said to the knock at the door.

Matthew stuck his head in.

"Time, sir." 

"Mrs. Stanhope?"

"She's ready, too, sir," Matthew answered, his face beaming with pride. 

William pulled open the door in time to see his coxswain give a large exaggerated wink to Lucy Burton, who occupied a similar spot outside the door of the room across the great hallway. That door was pulled back as well, and Caroline stepped into the hallway and curtsied to her brother, a small smile playing across her lips.

"You look lovely, Caroline," William said simply as they met in the middle.

"I don't believe I have ever even seen anything this fine in my life," Caroline said, "let alone owned anything. Oh, William, I feel such a fraud."

"A fraud?" William's astonishment was genuine. "Caroline, on the way here, I saw a boy and a girl in the street. The boy pulled out a stick and said, 'so you are the coward they left behind,' and the girl answered, 'no, I am the widow of Geoffrey Stanhope and the mother of his son.'

Caroline smiled.

"And then she hit him with a rock and sent him bawling for his mother."

Caroline burst into laughter, and William turned to the right and offered her his left arm. 

The elderly attendant at the entry to the main room of the palace had announced guests on many previous occasions, but he could not recall a more complicated set of instructions. The gentleman was Captain Lord William Stanhope. And the lady with him was Mrs. Stanhope, although he would be required to pause slightly, to emphasize that the connection between the two was not one of marriage. 

If they were not married, he thought to himself as he bounced on the balls of his feet, why are they attending together?

Then he saw them, the captain's face eminently familiar from the numerous broadsheets posted in shop windows all over London. He opened the doors, and roared out "Captain Lord William Stanhope!" That quieted perhaps half of those already in attendance. 

And quite suddenly his mind went blank, and he stared at his hands. He remembered that a pause was required, but not the reason for it. And he had already put the cards in his pocket; he had never needed to look at them before once he had memorized them. Finally, he looked back up at the woman, whose rendering, he suddenly realized, he had also seen in those very same windows. She was very patiently waiting for her own introduction with a gentle, knowing, and forgiving smile spread across her face. 

"And Caroline Stanhope, the Lioness of the Bay of Biscay! La veuve du Geoffrey Stanhope de lieutenant et la mère de son fils!"

The chamber went absolutely silent, for just a moment, and then roared to life. Caroline entered on William's arm, with just a glance up at the balcony where Lucy and Matthew were basking in the reflected glow of the ceremony.

"All right," she said quietly in a good-humored voice pitched just loud enough to reach William's ears above the applause. "Perhaps not a fraud after all."



Cast Adrift - Book 02



CHAPTER FIVE

It had been three weeks since the reception at St. James' Palace, and Caroline still experienced a thrill every time she thought of it. And she couldn't help but think of it often. Part of it, of course, was having people refer to her as "Lady Stanhope." Apparently, the Regent's advisers had been at something of an impasse about how to reward a woman who had proved her valor in battle. There were no precedents for a direct honor, and the Regent was uncomfortable enough with his relatively new authority to consider creating the first. It was James's friend, Philip Whitson, in fact, the secretary to the Prime Minister, who had suggested the answer: a posthumous baronetcy for Geoffrey Stanhope. It was unusual, to be sure, but not enough to scandalize the old men in the House of Lords upon whose support the Regent depended. 

Another part was most certainly having seen her brother William named a Knight Companion of the Order of the Bath. His Highness had been pleased to be able to recognize William's audacious effort to assist the troops retreating from the actions in the Chesapeake Bay last summer, but even more pleased to be able to do so in the context of his gloriously successful capture of the French frigate L'Empereur.

For the first ten days afterward, the two of them had been exhibited, or so it seemed to Caroline, at parties all over London. And since William had spent most of the last week and a half at Portsmouth, overseeing the refitting and repair of the Wallace, Caroline had largely been on her own for the most recent routs. She had particularly enjoyed seeing Jane Arbuthnot and Katherine Packenham, who had simpered and gushed with equal skill. 

She felt quietly pleased that her next engagements were more widely spaced. It would give her time to effect her next plan, one she planned to announce to William at dinner that evening on his return to London. She was momentarily taken aback, however, by the odd expression on his face.

"What is it, William?"

"The most amazing thing, Caroline," he said, his body almost quivering with emotion as he sat next to her in his best uniform. "I called on Lord Melville, today, at the Admiralty, to report the Wallace ready for sea. He ordered me to return there tomorrow, and remove all my personal belongings immediately."

"Oh, William," she murmured. "I'm so sorry."

A sudden smile flitted across Williams face before he regained control and began his explanation.

"'My lord,' I protested, 'why?'

"'Do you not believe that your Mr. Wainwright deserves a command?' says he. 'You particularly mentioned him in your letter.'

"'Of course, my Lord,' I told him. I forewent the pleasure of reminding him that I had made the same representations over a year ago."

Caroline smiled at the aside.

"'Exactly,' says Melville. 'And you will bring him his orders appointing him master and commander, in command of the Wallace.'

"I nodded. And I waited," William explained. "He was regarding me with particular ferocity, it seemed to me, although I could not fathom what I had done wrong.

"And then he asks me whether I know a Mr. Ruscommon. I sat there for what seemed an eternity, racking my brain to identify someone named Ruscommon. And finally I had to confess that I did not.

"'He is the Messenger of the Order of the Bath' he says, 'sent by the Order's King of Arms.'

"'My Lord, I do not recall having met him,' I said.

"'I imagine not,' Melville says with a scowl. 'He informed me that by law and tradition, the rank of Knight Companion may be awarded only to those members of His Majesty's Navy who hold the rank of Post-Captain or higher: and he asked me why we did not inform him prior to your investiture that you did not hold such a rank.'"

"William, it was not your fault," Caroline interjected.

"Nevertheless, Caroline, I was horrified. The thought that something I had done had allowed Lord Melville to be questioned like this by a -- by a civilian had me leaping out of my chair to offer my apologies. My mind was reeling. It was no wonder they were taking away my ship. I could only imagine what sort of prison-hulk I would next be given command of."

Caroline put her hand on William's arm, her eyes widening in sympathy.

"And then Melville quietly tells me to take my seat, and something like a smile starts to spread across his face. On his face, of course, although you may not remember, a smile can look much like a grimace."

It seemed to Caroline that a smile had overtaken William's face as well, and she leaned forward expectantly.

"And then Melville leans back, pulls open his drawer and extracts an envelope, and taps it on his desk several times.

"'So,' he finally says, 'it has been decided to antedate your posting, effective the day that you captured the frigate. My congratulations, Captain Stanhope.'

"Oh, William," Caroline cried. She surged forward, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. William stiffened, and then relaxed, allowing himself the pleasure of feeling his sister's heart beating rapidly against him, her soft breasts pressed into his chest. Then they both pulled back, with the simultaneous realization that such spontaneous liberties were not an acceptable part of their relationship.

William cleared his throat and tried to resume his story as if it had never occurred.

"It will be quite a surprise to my friend Bullington, who was made post two weeks ago, to find my name above his on the list."

"I am so happy for you, William," Caroline said, trying to disguise the deep breaths she was taking to calm her down.

"And the best news, Caroline, is that they have given me the Classic."

"Geoffrey's ship." 

"Yes. Sir Edward has been appointed to the frigate Undaunted. It is not much of a promotion, to be sure, but they have also named him commodore of the fleet blockading Marseille in the Mediterranean. So I am to have his ship, which will be returning to Portsmouth in two days' time for its own refitting. So instead of departing Wednesday next, I shall not be leaving for a little while longer."

"And then? Back to America?"

"Ah, the wise men of the Admiralty do not entrust their decisions even to post-captains, Caroline. I suppose I shall learn in time. But I beg your pardon, Caroline. I could tell from the look on your face as I entered, that you had news of your own. And I have quite selfishly prevented you from telling me of it."

Caroline smiled and took a deep breath.

"William, I mean to move to London permanently."

William's face burst into smile.

"Caroline, how delightful. You are most certainly welcome to --"

"Forgive me, William, but I know what you intend to say, and I must ask you to stop. No offer could be more generous, but I cannot in good conscience accept it, and I would so dread having to actually turn it down."

William closed his mouth and sat attentively.

"As you are aware, thanks in very great part to your generosity, I am a woman of some means. And as I now intend to reside here permanently, it seems fitting that I establish a house of my own, to protect both of us, dear brother, from unwanted gossipry. No, no, do not stop me. You are an eligible bachelor, in the prime of life, and I cannot imagine that the presence of your younger brother's widow in your household would recommend itself to any of the very attractive young women whom I can assure you are quite interested in gaining your attention. And for my part, I should not wish to have anyone think that I imposed upon my late husband's family any longer than necessary."

"I certainly understand, Caroline. You have had a change of heart, though? About London?"

Caroline looked down at her feet and returned his gaze with an abashed smile.

"I will admit to being vain, dear brother, and I could not stand the thought that people were looking down on me as an unfashionable provincial. Now that I can hold my head up, I find London just as fascinating as you told me that it would be. Dartmouth certainly has no hold on me anymore. The chancery proceedings over Geoffrey's will have been moved to London, thanks to James and his attorney. And Lucy is enchanted here.

"Several weeks ago, I asked James to help me locate suitable housing that might be available for lease. And although he has vanished -- do you know where he has gone to, by the way?"

"You are aware of his position?" William countered.

"He has a position? In government? I rather imagined he was, I don't know, someone's private secretary or some such thing."

"He is. And the someone in question is the foreign secretary, Viscount Castlereagh."

"James?"

"Indeed. He is perhaps singularly responsible for the current alliance responsible for the imminent defeat of that French tyrant."

"Oh, William. Really? The war is to end soon?"

"I have it on good authority that his ministers are daily urging Boney to abdicate. It is only a matter of time before Paris itself falls."

Caroline clapped her hands in delight before growing serious.

"William, may I ask you something? James and Mr. Whitson, his, er, particular friend . . ."

"Very diplomatic of you, Caroline."

"Then it's true? They are . . .?"

"Lovers, I suppose, would be the polite way of saying it. It is a closely guarded secret, though. James will be chagrined to know that you have discovered it."

"Oh, bosh. It changes nothing of my affection for him. It was just a look that passed between them at the Palace."

"It is the sword that my father holds over James' head. Early in his madness, he set men to follow all of us, and discovered James' secret. In their positions, it would be a considerable disgrace, and an embarrassment to Government were it to be made public. But we are far afield here. Did James locate a house?"

"He did. On Porter Street. We are to move in two weeks."

********** 

The relocation of Caroline and her household, however, was to be delayed. It was not that London suffered from a shortage of laborers. Rather, it was their sobriety that was at issue. On the first of April came the news that Paris had fallen to the allies two days before. London erupted in celebration. For the following week, the news from France kept the streets of London filled with revelers. On April 2, Napoleon was deposed by the French Sénat. On April 6, his marshals compelled his abdication in favor of his son. And there would be yet more. The word on the streets, and in the homes of the wealthy and powerful who had welcomed Caroline into their salons, was that the allies intended to force an unconditional abdication, restoring power in France to the monarchy where it belonged.

In despair, Caroline turned to William once again. Geoffrey's baronetcy had been a source of great pride to his former shipmates on the Classic, and a borrowed schooner full of volunteers under Matthew's direction quickly emptied Caroline's Dartmouth home of all of its books and furniture. By the time William arrived for a visit, during the third week of April, the household was nearly complete. 

"I must tell you, Caroline," he said, sipping a surprisingly good wine. "My household staff is pining away from your absence. Mrs. Woodward claims that the house might as well be completely uninhabited."

Caroline smiled.

"Even when I'm there," William added dryly.

"Mrs. Woodward is a treasure," Caroline said. "I should be very happy to take her on in your absence."

William laughed.

"I would never get her back."

"How long do you expect to be gone?"

"Who can say? As you might have expected, their Lordships have now turned their full attention to the American war." 

"As have the rest of us, apparently. Did you see the Times last week? I saved the editorial for you, on the desk."

William grabbed it up and read it aloud.

"April 15th. 'Now that the tyrant Bonaparte has been consigned to infamy, there is no public feeling in this country stronger than that of indignation against the Americans. That a republic boasting of its freedom should have stooped to become the tool of the Monster's ambition; that it should have attempted to plunge the parricidal weapon into the heart of that country from whence its own origin was derived; that it should have chosen the precise moment when it fancied that Russia was overwhelmed, to attempt to consummate the ruin of Britain -- all this is conduct so black, so loathsome, so hateful, that it naturally stirs up the indignation that we have described.'

"Strong stuff," William acknowledged. "The word you hear most often in the halls of Whitehall is 'chastise.' We are apparently going to chastise Jonathan for his effrontery."

"So their Lordships have taken you into their confidence," Caroline teased him.

"To a surprising degree," William said absently. "Apparently they believe that I am some sort of expert on America and its behavior."

He was silent for a moment before leaning forward.

"Caroline, this must remain between us."

She nodded slowly.

"Of course."

"Their Lordships mean to put together an invasion force. I am to carry dispatches to America next week, because the Classic is the fastest frigate in port at present. And when I return, I will be required to rendezvous to convey some of Wellington's Invincibles to America, to force them to sue for peace."

"Then I will stop worrying about you. And keep my prayers for our gallant soldiers."

"Perhaps you could save one or two for me. Their frigates are still formidable, few though they may be. Any of them would be a difficult task for the Classic. I shall be away for quite a while then. When I return, I expect to find you one of the premier hostesses of society in a house such as this.

"With men at your beck and call," he added softly.

Caroline blushed.

"It has only been a year since I learned of Geoffrey's death," she said.

"Caroline, you have mourned him enough to satisfy his dearest friends. And indeed, his family. You are a beautiful young woman, and none of us expects you to live the rest of your life as a widow."

"William, I do not know what to say."

"Say, 'thank you, dear William, for your concern. You are right, of course.'"

"As a post-captain," Caroline said slyly, "I thought you were always right."

"Touché, sister," William said with a laugh. "Well done."

It was a prophetic exchange. William's ship departed within the week, and in mid-May, while he was gone, Caroline received a letter from an unexpected correspondent.

6 May 1814

H.M.S. Undaunted

Dear Lady Stanhope:

I hope you will permit me to express my pleasure at the Regent's decision to honor my former lieutenant, your late husband Geoffrey. In honoring him, of course, I am quite sure that His Highness was also honoring you, in light of your magnificent accomplishment in assisting Captain Stanhope in capturing the French frigate L'Empereur. It is a curious coincidence, perhaps, that a similar fate has befallen me, for several days ago, it became my extraordinary lot to be the gaoler of the instrument of the misery Europe has so long endured. 

I'm sure you can imagine my surprise when I received an order from Lord Castlereagh directing me to Fréjus, a coastal town to the east of Marseilles. The Emperor came aboard there, along with the Commissioners appointed by the allied powers to escort him to his exile. I had the ship's rigging manned, and offered him a cheer, which touched him deeply. Before we reached Elba, the day before yesterday, he had started referring to me as his "bon ami," and has promised me 2,000 bottles of wine in thanks for the honor with which he has been treated.

I shall return to England shortly, and I should very much like to call upon you. If that is in anyway objectionable to you, please leave word for me at my club, The Elm. Otherwise, I shall look forward to renewing our acquaintance on my return and end this letter as

Yours truly,

Edward Pelham, RN

Caroline burst into laughter as she finished reading it. Lucy, who was sewing in a corner of the room, raised an eyebrow, pleased to see Caroline so gay. 

"Lucy, listen to this." Caroline read her the letter. "Whatever could he imagine I would find offensive in his calling on me?"

"In all seriousness, Caroline?"

Caroline looked over at Lucy, surprised at the earnest tone of her voice.

"Why?"

"Caroline, he intends to call upon you."

"Yes, that's what he says."

Lucy sighed and put down her sewing.

"One day, perhaps," she said, "Matthew Cooper will call upon me, rather than simply appearing every time his captain does. He's not surprising anyone, though, he isn't."

Caroline sat and stared, blinking in surprise.

"By then, of course," Lucy said as she picked up her work, "I hope to be able to sew better than he does."

"Lucy."

It was a breathless statement more than a question.

"Do you mean that Sir Edward intends to -- to make an offer?"

"No," Lucy answered without looking up, "I'm sure he intends to ask you to make up a fourth at his club." 

"Lucy, you are teasing me."

"Caroline, you are an attractive young woman. Even without a very considerable fortune, you must realize that you would be considered what the sailors call a prime catch."

Lucy just chuckled softly as Caroline continued staring.

**********

Further proof of Caroline's attractiveness came less than a week later, at another one of the parties that had now become such a routine part of her life. The music had already started when an older woman, with a thin face and a pinched expression, had approached her.

"My dear," she said, taking Caroline's hand in both of hers. "I hope you will forgive the lack of a formal introduction. I am Charlotte Pelham, Sir Edward's sister."

"Miss Pelham," Caroline acknowledged her. It was unusual, to be certain, not to have secured an introduction by a mutual acquaintance.

"Edward's last letter was full of praise for you," Charlotte said with a giddy laugh. "One might think you the second coming of Boadicea."

It seemed a challenge, almost, an attempt both to cast Caroline as uneducated and to suggest that her brother's praise was overblown. 

"Surely Boadicea led the Britons rather than remaining behind at the wheel," Caroline answered.

Charlotte's frown was brief, but the volley had hit its mark.

"And this," she continued, indicating the woman who trailed along behind her like the tail of a kite and who was, if anything, even less attractive than her leader, "is my dear childhood friend, Barbara Corring."

"Miss Corring."

"Mrs. Stanhope," the newcomer said, her mouth set in a thin line.

"No doubt when Edward returns," Charlotte intruded, "he will provide you with a more formal introduction. He and Barbara, you see, are --" 

"Oh, Charlotte," Barbara said with a high-pitched giggle. "There is nothing official."

"Nothing yet, perhaps, dear Barbara." Charlotte bestowed a smile on her friend and looked back at Caroline. "Nonetheless, there has been talk of uniting our families for several years."

"Indeed." Caroline inclined her head slightly. Perhaps Lucy had been mistaken in her reading of Sir Edward's letter. Although it seemed equally likely that these two ladies were mistaken regarding Sir Edward's intentions. It was difficult to imagine the dashing post-captain and this woman as a couple. And yet it could also be true that Sir Edward had been a little too effusive in his letters to his sister, and that Miss Pelham had seized upon an opportunity to warn Caroline off the field. 

"Yes, this war has been such a nuisance, hasn't it?" Charlotte prattled. "Interrupting everything. But I don't have to tell you that, do I?"

"I'm not sure I know to what you are referring, Miss Pelham," Caroline said as politely as she could. The woman couldn't possibly be suggesting that losing one's husband was a nuisance, could she?




Cast Adrift - Book 02 Pt. 02



CHAPTER SEVEN

The full-page headline on the front page of the Times on the second day of August, 1814 screamed the paper's demand for a full and complete investigation. Two people had died, scores more had been injured, and considerable private property had been destroyed as a result of the explosion and fire at the pagoda in St. James Park the night before. A smaller headline, much lower on the page, expressed horror at the assassination of Captain Sir Edward Pelham of the Royal Navy, and a sort of satisfied pride that his assassin had been fatally beaten by an enraged mob of intoxicated, patriotic Londoners. Nowhere in the paper was any mention of the pistol ball that had passed within inches of Lady Caroline Stanhope's head immediately before the man was taken down.

It was a harbinger of things to come. Just as there was no mention of Caroline in the newspapers, there was no place for her at Sir Edward's funeral. Charlotte moved quickly to take charge of the arrangements, and failed to even respond to Caroline's request that she be permitted to join the official procession. Unwilling to make a scene, Caroline quietly took a place in the middle of the mourners, wholly unacknowledged as the woman to whom Sir Edward would have been married before the month was out.

What started as merely a private humiliation quickly turned much more serious. Two weeks later, Caroline recalled with a sudden start that she had given notice that she would be vacating the house at the end of the month. Her efforts to renew the lease were met with a sneer from her landlord, who told her that given her obvious flightiness he would maintain her as a tenant only with a significant increase in rent, the first two months payable in advance. Caroline gave an inward sigh at the unfairness of life and asked her landlord to hold the lease open until she could return with the necessary funds.

"You wish to close your account?" her banker asked her with a smile on his face. On James's advice, she had established a separate account so as not to have to draw on her investments in the Naval Funds.

"Oh, no," she answered. "I merely wish to withdraw fifty pounds to pay certain expenses."

"Lady Stanhope, the account only contains forty pounds."

"I beg your pardon? I have your last statement here, Mr. Tutwill. It indicates that there is well over three hundred pounds in my account."

"Ah, yes. But of course that was last month's statement, my lady. Before I received your letter granting Sir Edward your power of attorney. I have it here in my files. Sir Edward withdrew all but forty pounds from this account as well as everything in the Naval Funds."

After a moment's reflection, Caroline swallowed hard.

"He was to purchase stock with the money," she said quietly. "Sir Edward and I were to have been married, Mr. Tutwill."

The banker's surprised smile disappeared as Caroline continued her explanation.

"In light of his death, however, I will once again need access to my own money," she said. Her eyes suddenly widened. "This power of attorney I signed. It does not authorize his heirs to manage my funds, does it?"

"I am not a lawyer," Mr. Tutwill demurred, "but I certainly would not follow instructions from anyone else. Nor do I believe that my attorney would authorize me to do so. But that is an issue that you will have to resolve with the company in which he purchased the stock. It is perhaps a simple matter of transferring ownership of a portion of the stock to you."

"What precisely did you do with the funds?" Caroline asked. "Would there not be some sort of record of their transfer?"

Tutwill shook his head. 

"Sir Edward wanted the funds in gold. Evidently he lost some money in the last bank failure and no longer trusts paper credit."

"Very well, then," Caroline said before she was interrupted by a rapid knocking at the door.

"Yes?" Mr. Tutwill said.

A breathless clerk opened the door.

"I beg your pardon, sir," he said, his voice rushing out in a burst, "but there is a messenger who insists upon seeing Lady Stanhope."

"A messenger?" Caroline asked. A young boy pushed his way past the startled clerk and pulled his hat from his head.

"Beg pardon," he mumbled. "This lady asked me to fetch you home immediate like."

Caroline felt her legs trembling as she quickly came to her feet.

"What lady?"

Alarmed by Caroline's tone, the boy simply stared at her.

"Speak up, boy," the banker said. "What did this woman look like?"

"Yeller hair, sir," the boy said quickly. "With these curls, like, in it." He made circular motions on his forehead with the fingers of one hand.

"Sarah," Caroline whispered. Her legs collapsed beneath her. "Michael."

The boy evidently recognized the name.

"Michael," he said. "She said there were nothin' wrong with Michael, mum. It's the other lady."

"Lucy?" Caroline got to her feet once again. "Mr. Tutwill, please excuse me."

She rushed out the door.

"Yes?" Mr. Tutwill asked the boy.

"The Sarah lady, sir, said I was to get sixpence."

Mr. Tutwill rolled his eyes and gave the boy a sixpence from his pocket. The boy retreated, the door closed, and Mr. Tutwill returned to his desk to make a note. Lady Stanhope now had? 39/19/6d to her credit.

Caroline found Sarah in the living room of the house, her dress spattered with blood. Taking the stairs two at a time, she stopped in Lucy's doorway, nearly unable to push herself through the door. 

"What have you done?" she asked the unconscious woman in horror. It was quite clear what she had done, however. An empty vial lay near Lucy's prostrate body. The bottom of the woman's dress was stained dark with her own blood, and Caroline was well aware of what she would find underneath it. She dashed back downstairs, saw the futility of asking Sarah to do anything further, and opened the door to bawl for the nearest boy.

"Run for the doctor," she told him. "The one two streets down. Tell him that Lady Stanhope's maid has harmed herself and killed her . . . her baby. Do not leave until he comes with you. Do you understand?"

The boy took off like a shot, and Caroline returned to the house. Satisfying herself first that Michael was untouched by the incident, having slept through everything, she returned to Lucy's room to give the woman a closer examination. Perhaps, she thought, the baby was far enough along that whatever drug Lucy had taken would not have been strong enough to deprive it of life. But such was not the case. And when the doctor arrived a few moments later, it became clear that Lucy's life hung in the balance as well. He prescribed for her and recommended constant nursing but left the house shaking his head.

As the month of August drew to a close, Caroline's straits had become even more desperate. The doctor and the apothecary had both taken bites out of the account she maintained with Mr. Tutwill. She had found more inexpensive lodgings, but that had required another outlay of funds, both for the rooms and for the expenses of moving her possessions there. It was not until the 30th, in fact, that she finally received the return letter from Mr. Cochrane that she had been eagerly awaiting.

26 August 1814

My dear Lady Stanhope:

As delighted as I was to receive your letter, I am equally distraught at not being able to accede to your request. I have consulted my own attorney on this issue, and he informs me that my hands are tied in the matter. The monies that were deposited in my account in late July were specifically designated for the purchase of stock in the name of Sir Edward Pelham. I have any number of potential investors who would be happy to purchase that stock for a premium above the amount paid by Sir Edward, but I am told that the stock in question is now legally a part of Sir Edward's estate. He having left me with no instructions to make any part of that available to anyone else, such as yourself, I am constrained to follow the dictates of his executors.

My attorney has strongly recommended that I leave the matter there, in your hands. I cannot in good conscience, however, simply abandon the widow of a former messmate, particularly one I held in as high regard as Midshipman Stanhope, without offering at least some advice, which is to consult your own attorney in this matter. I have made several informal inquiries, and understand that Sir Edward's sister, Charlotte, is named executrix under a will he drafted when he obtained his first ship. She always struck me as a particularly avaricious woman. The sooner that your money is out of her hands the better off you will be. 

I wish you the best of luck, and remain, 

yours truly,

Charles Langhorne

"Yes." Andrew Carhartt, who was already acting for Lady Stanhope in the matter of her late husband's estate, finished cleaning his glasses as his client finished reading the first paragraph of the letter to him. "And you have asked Miss Pelham's sister for the money?"

"She has so far not graced any of my letters with a response."

"Just so. Well, I will be happy to write to her myself, Lady Stanhope, but I am obligated to tell you in all honesty that should she refuse, the alternative is yet another court case."

He replaced his glasses on his face and watched Caroline's face fall.

"In this case, of course, we would not be contesting his will, but rather contesting the inclusion of these funds in the estate at all. As I understand it, the evidence in favor is comprised solely of your own testimony."

"My banker will testify that the money was mine."

"'Was' being the crucial word," the attorney said with a nod. "He can explain that the money that was yours was withdrawn and given to Sir Edward. However, we cannot trace that money to the purchase of the Cochrane company stock."

He smiled.

"That will take some time, however. You are well aware how slow the chancery courts are. In the meantime, we can hope that Miss Pelham will be reasonable."

Miss Pelham was anything but reasonable. Her response to Mr. Carhartt's letter came from her own attorney, who assured Mr. Carhartt that Miss Pelham had no information in his possession that would allow her to connect Sir Edward's purchase of the Cochrane company stock with his "alleged" withdrawal of Mrs. Stanhope's money. His letter stopped just shy of suggesting that Caroline's request was a complete and utter fraud, although its tone suggested that he and his client believed that to be precisely the state of affairs.

********

"How are you this morning, Lucy?" Caroline asked as she put a hand on her maid's forehead. 

"I am well," Lucy answered. "I believe I shall get up and –"

"I believe you shall do no such thing," Caroline said. "We have this discussion every morning, Lucy. You will not be getting out of this bed until Dr. Collards and I are satisfied that you are completely better. He considers it a miracle that you are alive at all after taking that vile medicine.

Lucy's eyes welled with tears.

"I could not live another day with that monster's child inside me."

"I understand, dearest. I have to go out for the rest of the day. I will be home later."

"Where are you going? Why are you leaving?"

"Lucy, my dear. You will be fine by yourself. I need you to be better. I have . . . I have had to give Sarah notice. Next week you will have to take care of Matthew for me. He does not need a wet nurse anymore. And since he sleeps most of the day, he will not tax your strength too much."

"And where will you be?"

"Honey, we have so little money left . . ."

"Caroline!" Lucy's eyes widened with alarm. "You are a wealthy woman!"

"Perhaps on paper, dear. But my money was commingled with Edward's, and there are some difficulties with his estate. I have had to hire a lawyer for that."

"Lawyers," Lucy said with disgust.

"At present they are our sole hope, Lucy. I have sold some jewelry."

"No!" Lucy said with a gasp.

"They meant nothing," Caroline assured her. "I have thought about writing James to ask for a loan to tide us over, but it would be simply too much of an imposition. And in any event he is still in Vienna with his friend Mr. Whitson, solving the problems of the Continent. I could not possibly think of disturbing him with my petty problems."

Lucy sighed, knowing full well that James would move heaven and earth to help his brother's widow if he was only informed of her situation. But Lucy could barely read and write, let alone send a letter to Austria pleading for help.

"What about Sir William's household?" she suggested.

"I did call there," Caroline admitted. "The house is being managed by a caretaker. The entire staff was called north to help care for the Earl."

"What will you do, Caroline?"

"I have taken a position, Lucy. Assistant clerk to a bookseller in Market Row."

"But you are Lady Stanhope," Lucy protested.

"Caroline Stanhope never turned up her nose at work, Lucy. Giving me a title makes no difference."

"You should have said."

"And have you turn down medical care because you thought it too expensive?" Caroline asked with a laugh. "I think not, my dear friend. Now you stay in bed and regain your health. I will need you next week more than ever."

"Yes, my Lady." Lucy sank back into her pillows with a sigh.

********

Admiral Poultney Malcolm fidgeted in the chair behind his desk in the Governor's Mansion. Although his replacement by Admiral Sir Alexander Cochrane was dictated by time-honored naval custom, he still considered the invading armada was his own. It was he who had brought them to Bermuda, on the very cusp of North America. It was he who had badgered and cajoled the civilians at the Admiralty to increase the size of the forces that would be deployed against the Americans. 

It still hadn't been large enough for Cochrane. The man seemed to want enough troops to invade the entire continent at one time. When the fleet had arrived on 26 July, he had complained bitterly that he was only being given 5,000 men. He had complained even more bitterly about Rear Admiral Cockburn's suggestion to begin his attacks at the small town of Benedict Maryland, on the Patuxent River. But he had nonetheless assumed command, leaving Malcolm as port admiral in Bermuda during his absence.

That had been over two months past. In the past month, Malcolm had begun to burn for knowledge of the ships that had once been his. In the past week, he had reached the firm conclusion that the news was unconscionably late. Perhaps they had met with ruin. Perhaps that scrub Cochrane had declined to give him even the courtesy of a report, bypassing Bermuda entirely to report directly to the Admiralty.

But it was today, 1 October, that his stomach had begun to churn, ever since H.M.S. Classic had been sighted by the port lookout. The Classic was the fastest frigate in the force, commanded by young Stanhope. What did the presence of that one sole ship mean?

"How long does it take to bring the damn ship into port, anyway?" he asked himself at the very moment he heard his Secretary's knock at the door.

"Captain Sir William Stanhope, Admiral."

"Stanhope. It's good to see ye again. What news? Ye'll stay to dinner, of course."

"I regret not, Admiral. It is but touch and go for the Classic. I am ordered to call for mail, to report our news to you, and to head home with all due dispatch."

"Very well, Captain," Poultney said with growing impatience. "Report."

"The invasion of Washington proceeded perfectly, sir. It could have gone better only if we had captured the President himself at dinner. As it was, though, he left it warm for us on his way out the door."

"The coward."

"Yes, sir. And we left it warmer than when we arrived."

"Eh?"

Poultney raised his bushy eyebrows.

"The Presidential mansion, sir – the "White House," they call it – has been razed to the ground."

"Excellent." Poultney slapped his knee in satisfaction.

"The invasion of Baltimore, however, fared far worse. General Ross was killed before it even got underway. Killed by American snipers."

"Damnable cowards!"

"Yes, sir. And then the Americans put up a fierce resistance outside the city. The army could go no further. The navy bombarded their Fort McHenry for hours on end, sir, with nothing to show for it in the end. We slunk down the Chesapeake almost as quickly as we had crept up it."

"Just like the whole damnable war," Poultney growled. "A victory at sea followed by a defeat on the lakes. Triumph in Canada, tragedy in New York. What a waste of men."

"Yes, sir."

"What a waste of ships," Poultney continued, his tone suggesting that he had now accounted for the true cost of the war.

"Any news from home, sir, on the peace talks?"

"Nothing," Poultney said. He walked over stared out the window. "Admiral Cochrane is right behind you?"

"No more than a week, sir. Now if you will excuse me, I will see if the port captain has a bag for us and weigh anchor on the ebb."

Poultney merely nodded. He would have rejoiced in an English triumph or taken smug satisfaction in a disaster. He had no doubt that the present stalemate was being continued solely to test his patience.

William Stanhope's patience had received a shock as well. His coxswain, Matthew Cooper found him sitting on a pile of roping, a letter in his hand. It was a pose unbefitting any officer, let alone his captain, and Matthew furtively looked around to make sure that no one else had seen.

"Is there trouble, sir?"

William sighed and looked up.

"She is to be married," he said with a shake of his head.

"Miss Caroline?" 

Matthew was stunned. It was quite true that his captain had failed to make any avowal of love or even affection toward his brother's widow prior to their departure. But surely the girl, her Ladyship as it was now, could not have missed the look in his eyes, the catch in his voice, the dumbstruck expression on his captain's face every time he caught sight of her.

"I have a letter from Sir Edward Pelham," William continued. "Dated 29 July. He states that she has accepted his hand. They will have been wed before we get back, Matthew. You served under Pelham, didn't you Matthew?"

"Aye, sir. In my youth. A good man, sir, but no Stan'ope. It is her Ladyship's loss," he continued in what he took for a genteel manner.

"Bah," William said, catching himself just short of chucking the letter into the sea. "It is my loss, Matthew, and we both know it. And now I must go pen a note of congratulation to the man who won her heart, Matthew. And to the lady herself. We will mail them upon our return to London."

"Aye-aye, sir."

**********

But as bad a day as 1 October was for Rear Admiral Malcolm and Captain Stanhope, it was a far worse day for Lady Caroline. Three weeks ago she had walked to work in a pouring autumn rain, where she had been met at the door by its proprietor.

"Mr. Brooks," Caroline said. "May I not come in?"

"I cannot let you, Caroline. It would destroy me."

"Destroy you? I do not understand. I am your employee."

"And a fine one you have been. I cannot do it, Mrs. Stanhope. I cannot turn you back into the rain without at least the courtesy of an explanation. Come into my office."

Caroline followed him into the back, where he handed her a letter. Her heart fell as she saw the Earl of Prescott's crest at the top, and her breath caught in her throat as she read its contents.

Merchant:

It has come to my attention that you employ or may be asked to employ one so called Lady Caroline Stanhope. You should be aware that this woman is a vile confidence artist, who is still attempting to gain control of the fortune of my late son, a hero of the war against Napoleon. I have it on good authority that before the year is out, she will be declared so by a court of chancery, and her misbegotten babe labeled as the bastard that it is. When that time comes, it will be an unfortunate employer indeed who has this creature in his employ for he will surely be shunned by London society. Be warned accordingly.




Cast Adrift - Book 02 Pt. 02



Stanhope, Earl of Prescott.

"This is not true," Caroline said, her whole body shaking. "This is false!"

"It was delivered Friday afternoon after you left by a man whom I have no wish to see again. I'm afraid I have no choice, Mrs. Stanhope."

By the third week in October, Caroline's straits had become far more desperate. She had sold clothing and furniture, in part to pay for the medicine demanded by Lucy's relapse, but largely simply to meet her everyday expenses for food. She had paid October's rent, but Mr. Tutwill had reluctantly been forced to close her account because it would soon be overwhelmed by carrying fees. Her entire fortune could now be carried in the pocket of her twice-repaired dress.

It was evening, and she was disconsolately wandering the streets. Lucy was healthy enough once again to look after Michael, and but Caroline did not believe her strong enough to be able to take the news of their imminent financial ruin.

She found herself in the theatre district, its clientele an eclectic mix of wealthy patrons, gauchely decorated actresses, blue-collar drudges who scraped together their pennies for a bench in the back, and the ever-present prostitutes who seemed able to ply their trade anywhere in London. She eyed the latter group with interest. How hard could it be, after all? None of them were that attractive. Certainly not as attractive as Caroline could be with the smallest of effort. 

"Oh, look at the high and mighty Lady Stanhope." A harsh, grating voice shattered her reverie. "Come to visit the hoi polloi, eh? Come to give us a look at our betters, have you?"

"Mother," Caroline said with a soft sigh. She turned to see her mother on the arm of her paramour, a crowd already beginning to form around them in anticipation of a public spectacle.

"Mother, please," Caroline said. 

"Or perhaps poor Lady Stanhope has fallen on hard times. I thought I taught you how to sew better than this, dearest."

"You taught me nothing!" Caroline yelled as the rain pelted her head. "Nothing, mother!"

"Not even not to walk around in the rain. Has Lady Stanhope fallen on hard times? We all noted her interest in the ladies of the evening, didn't we, ducks? Contemplating a change in occupations, dearie?"

The crowd roared with laughter and Caroline felt herself reddening. This woman still knew her altogether too well, knew where to place the barbs, and where to twist the knife.

She felt a hand at her shoulder.

"Perhaps I could –"

Caroline tore herself free without looking back.

"Let go of me, you bastard."

"I was only going to suggest, dearest sister, that you let me take you away from this . . . this endearing creature."

Caroline whipped around and stared at the man who was seeking to come to her aid.

"James," she whispered. "James!"

She threw herself, sobbing, onto his shoulder.

"There, there, darling," James said, patting her back. "So you don't want to stay and chat with your friend?"

"She is no friend of mine," Caroline said into his ear. "She is my mother."

"Ah. Well, in that case I shan't beg for an introduction. As I know far too well, my dear, our parents can be a sore trial for us when we get older."

She pulled back and stared into his face, with tears streaming down her own and mixing with the rivulets of rain water.

"How are you here?"

"Lucy told me that you had walked off in this general direction," he said with a smile. "I have been looking for you this past hour."

Caroline shook her head, her hair sending water flying.

"But why are you here? In England? Not in Vienna?"

"Ah. Well, I received a copy of my father's letter. It had what I believe to have been the word "help" scrawled on it – although I had not known that the word could be misspelled – followed by a letter that looked like an "L."

"Lucy," Caroline whispered.

"My thought as well," James said. "So here I am. My I offer you an arm to my carriage? It is just down the street."

CHAPTER EIGHT

"I still don't much care for lawyers," Lucy said.

The breakfast table broke into polite laughter. Lucy's social promotion – from maid to guest in James's house – had not quieted her tongue.

"Well, perhaps you would be willing to make an exception in the case of your friend's lawyer." Mr. Carhartt inclined his head toward Caroline, sitting across from Lucy.

"Perhaps," Lucy said with a sniff. "But I still do not understand why she needs to go through all of this. Simply because Sir Edward's witch of a sister won't open her greedy, grasping hands."

"Don't be coy," Caroline said. "Tell us your real opinion of her, Lucy."

"I'm quite serious, Caroline," Lucy said. "Years of nothing and then two trials on the same day?"

"Ah, well that is Judge Dennings," the attorney said. He was quite unused to being asked to dine with his client on the morning of a trial, particularly in the home of the private secretary to the Viscount Castlereagh, and felt obliged to keep up his end of the conversation. "The first part of November is, for reasons I do not pretend to fathom, a particularly slow time in the chancery courts. And I have no doubt that by scheduling them on the same day, he is trying to curry favor somewhere, perhaps with your father, Mr. Stanhope." 

"Please, sir, I am James to my friends."

"James, then. This judge is a sycophant of the first degree, although he is not without his parts. But I am quite certain that he expects to be well-rewarded for dispatching both of these cases in the same day."

"Then Caroline has no chance?" Lucy asked. She had paid little attention to earlier discussions between Caroline and James. 

"No, no. Not at all. I fully expect that Judge Dennings will try to show his good judgment by splitting the difference."

"King Solomon," James said with a grin.

"Quite so," Carhartt agreed. "I'm sure that he already has the comparison firmly in mind. He will express his considerable doubts about the circumstances of Caroline's marriage to Geoffrey Stanhope, but in the end he will find himself unable to ignore the reams of depositions given by the young man's shipmates on the issue of the will. 

"I do not expect him to reach the question of the marriage at all. And if he does, the testimony of Mr. Stanhope – James – the decedent's best man, is quite convincing. I do find it difficult to imagine that the parson, assuming he is still available and still willing to perjure himself, will last long under cross-examination. As for why the judge will throw Mrs. Stanhope that bone, perhaps he has a sponsor at the Admiralty whose good wishes he needs even more than those of the Earl. Although pray do not be surprised if he declines your late husband's wish to name you executor, Lady Stanhope."

Lady Stanhope raised an eyebrow.

"Executrices – female executors – are rare enough. In Judge Dennings' court, to my knowledge, they are unheard of. But you need not be concerned. He will likely appoint James as administrator in your stead, and the will, of course, will be unaltered. As for the second matter, I am afraid that the judge may hope to placate the Earl by finding against her on the matter of Sir Edward's investment."

"I believe the Earl cares more about my son than my money," Caroline said with a sigh.

"And yet he was quite clearly trying to ruin you financially," Mr. Carhartt said.

"Frankly I found that quite odd," James interjected. "Caroline's inheritance is a pittance to him. And the letter he sent – the "Merchant" letter – is particularly strange. The reports that I have been receiving from his staff – mostly those loyal to my brother at this point – have been favorable. He seems to be recovering his senses. At least for now."

"Much as His Majesty used to," Mr. Carhartt said.

"Exactly. That is why the letter surprised me. And angered me, to be honest. Not that he listens to anything I say at this point, but I sent him a note stating that in light of my brother's love for Caroline, the only effect of his having sent such an unspeakably crude letter – a letter whose sole purpose was to impoverish you – will be to alienate the only heir to whom he is still speaking. The only child still willing to speak to him. Now, if you will excuse me, I must go compliment Mrs. Childs on her crêpes."

He bowed to the women and left the table.

Caroline gently shook her head.

"I'm afraid that James is sometimes more headstrong than sensible. That the love that Geoffrey and I shared should affect his father's relationship with his family at this point seems quite naïve. Mr. Carhartt? You look puzzled."

Her attorney dabbed his lips with his napkin.

"Really, it is not my place."

"Please," Caroline said, "you are my counsel. And we are among friends."

"I simply misinterpreted Mr. Stanhope's remark. He had two brothers, as I understand. One your late husband . . ."

"Geoffrey, yes," Caroline said.

"And the other the naval officer."

"Sir William."

"Quite so. And when he spoke of your brother's love for you, I understood him to mean his, er, living brother."

Caroline sat back in her chair as if she had been slapped.

"William?" she said in a hushed whisper. "But William doesn't . . ."

"Doesn't what?" James asked as he came back and resumed his seat.

"When you were speaking of your brother's love just now, you meant Geoffrey, of course, did you not?" Caroline asked.

James exchanged a glance with Mr. Carhartt that lasted a fraction of a second too long.

"William's love?" Caroline's voice was barely audible.

"I'm so sorry, Caroline," James said. "I thought it was quite obvious."

"He has never said a thing."

"No, I'm sure not." James said. "And now I hope that he does not appear today after all. I should be most mortified."

"He is here?" Caroline's asked. "In England?"

"His ship was sighted at the entrance to the Thames yesterday. I sent him a message that we would be in court today, and left a similar message at the Admiralty in case he appears there first."

Caroline sat in stunned silence while Lucy, to fill the void, once again expressed her sense of unfairness at Caroline's treatment, particularly with respect to the money she had given Sir Edward.

Her attorney was very grateful for the change of subject.

"The law, Miss Burton, is not always an equitable being, even in a court of equity, I'm afraid."

"Perhaps you will allow me to at least attempt to explain," James interrupted. "To see if I grasp the problem."

The lawyer nodded and James turned to Lucy.

"Let us suppose there is a woman. Not Caroline, of course, but an unscrupulous woman out to try to obtain herself a fortune."

"Let's call her Charlotte," Lucy said.

"Oh, Lucy," Caroline said with a shake of her head.

"Charlotte, then," James said. "Charlotte appears in court to testify that she gave her money to the Lord Wilfredus Countleby for safekeeping. Now she would like it back. You are the judge Lucy. What do you do?"

"Give her back her money, of course."

"And what proof do you demand that it is hers?"

"She said it was hers, didn't she?"

"She swore an oath on the Bible, Lucy."

"Well, then."

Lucy exulted in her triumph.

"And your Charlotte would never lie, would she?"

Lucy closed her mouth.

"Well?" James asked, leaning forward to press her for an answer.

"Well, how should I know?" Lucy said.

"Exactly," James said, sitting back with a laugh. "So Parliament, in its infinite wisdom, passed the Statute of Frauds and Perjuries. Long ago, if I am not mistaken."

He looked at the attorney for confirmation.

"Over a century."

"And it provides that certain cases shall not go forward in the absence of a writing – any sort of writing – that confirms the debt. In this case, that would be the debt owed by Sir Edward to Caroline as a result of his agency – his acting on her behalf by investing her funds. Did I miss anything?"

"Not at all," Carhartt said.

"Then Caroline really does have no chance?" Lucy's voice rose in alarm.

"Not at all," he repeated. "I have an excellent argument, I believe, that this particular type of transaction is not subject to the statute. But that is for the judge to decide. Miss Pelham's lawyer will certainly argue to the contrary. And speaking of arguing, James, I believe that it is time for us to begin making our way toward the court. 

They arrived with ten minutes to spare. Caroline, who was named the executor of Geoffrey's estate under his last will, sat inside the bar with her counsel. Lucy and James sat just behind. A sallow, sharp-faced man, quite clearly the lawyer representing the interests of the Earl, the only person objecting to probate of the will, sat at the other table.

The bailiff's solemn request that the courtroom rise out of respect to Judge the Honorable William Dennings was only partially undercut by the appearance of Judge Dennings himself. Clad in black robes that made His Honor look like little more than a black sphere, he took his seat in a wooden chair that creaked ominously as it accepted his weight.

"We will hear first the Matter of the Estate of Geoffrey Stanhope. Mr. Carhartt appears for the executor named in the will. Mr. Sloss for the challenger. Do either of you have any wish to address the court before I begin?"

"Your honor, we do not," Carhartt said, rising to address the court. "I understand that the burden is on Mr. Sloss, though, to convince you not to probate Lieutenant Stanhope's last well and testament."

"Mr. Sloss is discharged."

A man in his middle sixties stood at the back of the courtroom. His heavy cloak and muffler dropped to the seat behind him.

"Dear God," James muttered. "Father."

"Your father?" Lucy asked. He had spoken too softly for Caroline and Carhartt to hear him. They had turned to look at the man as well.

The judge appeared to be most put out.

"By what right do you interrupt this court, sir? I shall have the bailiff remove you upon another outburst like that."

"I am Sir Richard Stanhope, Earl of Prescott, the challenger named in this proceeding. I have, to my shame, employed that man there and that man there."

He pointed first at the lawyer, and second at another man sitting in the corner of the courtroom, a man shocked to see the Earl.

"I have brought a letter of introduction, sir, from the Regent's personal secretary. And my son, James, who sits there and who is employed by the foreign secretary, can confirm my identity.

Caroline and Carhartt turned their stunned faces to James, whose own face appeared close to collapse.

"He called me his son," James whispered.

"The attorney I hereby discharge," the Earl continued. "The other, a man who has stolen my personal stationery and forged letters purporting to come from me, I request the bailiff to take into custody."

"You stupid git!" the man snarled. "I did what you asked."

"You far exceeded your instructions." The Earl's voice was gaining in strength, booming through the courtroom. "Instructions which I now admit went much too far. And which, in any event, did not include the forging of my name."

"You owe me three hundred pounds, you fucking bastard!"

The judge was even more outraged at this new outburst.

"Bailiff, take this man downstairs."

The man sprang from his seat before the bailiff could react, however. The judge, the litigants, and the spectators all watched him run from the room.

"It matters little," the Earl said with confidence. "He will not get far. I have a man on the streets. And in the meantime, Your Honor, I should be very grateful if you would dismiss my challenge to my son's will and confirm his wife, Lady Caroline Stanhope, the mother of my grandson, as both his executor and his sole heir."

Judge Dennings was wholly unused to his courtroom filling with tears of joy. He gave his gavel close study, quite unwilling to interrupt the reunion – if in fact there had ever been a union to begin with, which was most unlikely – between the Earl of Prescott, his eldest son, and youngest son's widow. When everyone had settled back into their seats, he quickly signed an order confirming Caroline's status as heir and executor – the last with a simpering glance at the Earl. Finally, he announced that he would return at two o'clock to hear the Matter of the Estate of Edward Pelham.

********

"I have never seen Caroline so happy," Lucy said as she and the attorney sat at a table in a London tavern. "It is quite astonishing."

"Indeed," Carhartt said. "I feel I am intruding even though we are sitting nowhere near them. Ah yes, my good man. I should like a slice of beef and a glass of ale to wash it down. And for you, my dear?"

Lucy could not tear her eyes away from the scene across the room. She longed to hear the explanation of the Earl's sudden return to his senses. She wanted her eyes to linger on a smile on Caroline's face that she had never seen before, a smile filled with joy and happiness.

"Nothing, my dear?" Carhartt asked.

"I am so sorry, Mr. Carhartt," Lucy said. "I'm afraid I was gathering wool. I really do not imagine that I could eat a thing at this point."

"Lucy?"

Lucy looked up to see Caroline standing over her. She reached for her hand.

"Caroline."

"Lucy, I have a favor to beg."

"An order, Caroline," Lucy said with a smile.

"No, Lucy. A favor. A favor from my friend."

Lucy stood and burst into tears of her own. The two women hugged before Lucy pushed herself away and wiped her eyes.

"What can I do?"

"Take a carriage home and fetch Michael here. We will not need you for the second trial. And I should so love for his Lordship to see his grandson this afternoon."

"Caroline, I am so happy for you." 

Lucy gave her friend's hand another squeeze and rushed from the room as if there was not a moment to be lost.

"I, too, am delighted for you, my dear. Your fortune and name have been restored in a single stroke. Still, there is an even larger amount of money at stake this afternoon. I sincerely hope that you do not intend to withdraw your contest to that."

"Not at all," Caroline said. "Lucy would be most unhappy if I were to leave those funds in Charlotte's hands."

********

Charlotte Pelham was most displeased as she sat at the table in Judge Dennings's courtroom that afternoon. The smile on Caroline's face told her that the woman had succeeded in having at least a portion of her fortune restored. The smile on the faces of her brother and the older gentleman sitting next to him, between whom the family resemblance was quite remarkable, told her that Lady Stanhope was destined to remain Charlotte's social superior as well. It was all just too, too neat.

Fortunately, there was still the matter of the majority of Caroline's funds. Charlotte had no doubt but that a significant portion of the money that her brother had invested with his former officer, an investment that seemed to daily increase in value, belonged to the woman who had been his fiancée. Edward's banker had privately told her that her brother had not had sufficient money in his accounts to fund all of his investment.

But Charlotte had given no hint of that to anyone, including her lawyer. And he in turn had assured her that the young woman had no chance at all of grabbing any of Sir Edward's estate.

She desperately tried to keep the boredom off of her face as she listened to the evidence submitted by Caroline's attorney. Caroline testified about Edward's request that he be allowed to invest her money for her just prior to their marriage and about her acquiescence to that request. But she acknowledged under questioning by Charlotte's attorney that she had nothing in writing from Sir Edward that would confirm her testimony. Caroline's former financial adviser testified about Caroline's money. He testified that he had given that money to Sir Edward under a properly executed power of attorney. But he admitted, under questioning by Charlotte's attorney, that he had no idea where the money went after that.




Cast Adrift - Book 02 Pt. 02



After that came the arguing. Nearly an hour of dull oration concerning whether or not this was a contract in contemplation of marriage, or whether it was a contract that was not expected to be performed within a year. The obese judge behind the bench hectored the two lawyers with questions of his own. Finally, as it appeared to be wrapping up, Charlotte pulled herself erect and smiled at the judge.

The doors at the back of the courtroom slammed open and she turned, along with everyone else, to see the wild-eyed man, clearly a sailor from his outfit, who stood panting in the entrance.

"By what right do you interrupt this court, sir?" the judge said, covering a smile with a frown. 

"Which I begs your pardon, sir." The man snatched off his straw shore-going hat as he addressed the bench. "But which I have been told to speak to the attorney."

"Might I have a short recess, Your Honor?" Caroline's attorney asked after a brief whisper from his client.

"Oh, very well. Ten minutes. I expect not to find anything new upon my return. We are already looking far too much like a circus today."

All rose as the judge left the room and Charlotte watched in fascination as the man tried to explain his presence to Caroline and his lawyer. She told her own attorney that she had no idea who the man was. He was quite clearly known to some of the participants, however. Caroline greeted him as an old friend. Her brother, James, had a knowing smile. The elderly gentleman simply looked bewildered, although his expression changed to one of delight as Caroline's wretched maid, Lucy or something like that, entered the courtroom with her one-year-old son. Lucy, too, looked delighted. When she saw the group at the table, her face lit up like a candle. Before she could greet the newcomer, however, the infant started whimpering, and she was asked to remove him. The elderly gentleman followed, nearly skipping down the center aisle of the room. The sailor took a seat beside James as Caroline's attorney pulled out his watch.

The judge chose that moment to make his return, pleased to find order restored. He quickly denied Caroline's counsel's request for a further recess, suggesting that if he had additional testimony now was the time to put it on. Did he expect the court to believe that he had failed to make a witness available for trial after four months?

The lawyer appeared quite desperate, and Charlotte suppressed a smile as she watched Caroline tug on his sleeve. This was better than a raree show, to be sure.

"I call Matthew Cooper to the stand," the attorney announced after another hurried consultation.

"Sir?" The sailor appeared shocked to hear his name spoken in the courtroom.

"If you would take the stand, sir," the attorney said. He gestured to the chair used by witnesses.

"Me, sir?"

The judge had had enough.

"Are you Matthew Cooper or are you not?"

"Aye-aye, your Worship," Cooper said with a tug on his forelock.

"Then come up here and sit in the chair!"

"Aye-aye." 

An order had been given. The man sat himself in the chair and looked about the courtroom.

"Please place your hand on the Bible," the bailiff said.

"On the Bible?"

"Do you object to taking an oath on the Bible to tell the truth in this court?" the judge asked.

"Nae, sir. Not at all. But I should most certainly tell your Worship the truth whether there be a Bible or not."

"Your Honor."

"Sir?"

"You may address me as 'Your Honor.' And save 'Your Worship' in case you ever meet the Lord Mayor."

"Oh. Certainly, sir. No offense intended."

He tugged his forelock again.

"None taken," the judge said with a roll of his eyes. Charlotte heard a snort from behind her, and turned her head to see James nearly doubled over with silent laughter.

Matthew was finally sworn to tell the truth, and the attorney commenced his questioning.

"State your name, please."

"Cooper."

"Your full name."

"Matthew Cooper."

"And you are employed?"

"Well, not as who should say employed exactly."

"You are unemployed?"

"Well, no sir. Not that either, really. Certainly not."

"Where do you work?" roared the judge.

"Aboard the Classic, sir. H.M.S. Classic. Captain's coxswain, sir. And before that in the Wallace. Sloop-of-war, sir. Which I was just now at the Admiralty, sir, and sent on ahead of the captain."

"Perhaps we can have some testimony relevant to this matter," the judge dryly informed the attorney.

"Of course, your Honor," the lawyer answered. "Did you by any chance know the decedent?"

"I'm sorry. The what, sir?"

"The dead man."

Cooper looked wildly about the room.

"He's not here," the judge said. "Did you know Sir Edward Pelham?"

"Sir Edward?" Matthew brightened up considerably. "Which had the Classic afore Captain Stanhope? I should say I did, sir. Foremast jack under Captain Pelham, I was, in the Watchtower. Which we brought that nasty sister of 'is down to Portsmouth in."

Charlotte felt her face reddening. The man did look vaguely familiar now that she thought of it. What a horrid trip that had been. She looked up to see the judge hide a smile. She fixed her glare upon Cooper.

"You mean Miss Pelham?" The attorney pointed to her, and she watched the look of recognition come over the wretched man's face.

"Oh! Beg pardon, ma'am. I'm sure that you was . . . that you was much nastier then."

News of the sailor's appearance had gone up and down the courthouse, and spectators were starting to file in and take their seats. They exploded into laughter at that remark until gaveled into silence by the judge.

"And do you know Lady Stanhope?"

He turned to her with a far more friendly, almost reverent look.

"Of course, sir. The Lioness of Biscay Bay. Saved our lives, she did, on board the barky when we boarded that Frenchy."

"Wait a minute," the judge interrupted. "You mean that this woman is the one who helped capture that French frigate last spring?"

"Stop this!" Charlotte hissed an order at her attorney, who reflexively jumped to his feat.

"I object, your Honor."

The judge glared at the attorney.

"To the Court's question?"

"No, sir. Your Worship. I mean, Your Honor. Certainly not. I object to the whole line of questioning. Its relevance is completely beyond me."

"It is entertaining," the judge said. "But you make an excellent point. Mr. Carhartt? The relevance?"

He had no chance to answer. The door opened again, and Charlotte turned to gape. Far from slipping in, this man strode confidently down the aisle as if he were born to command any venue he occupied. He was a naval captain, another of those blasted Stanhopes from the looks of him.

"Finally." 

Caroline's relieved whisper cut the silence in the room like a knife.

"I will waive further testimony from this witness, Your Honor, and call Sir William Stanhope to the stand."

"And he will actually testify to something to do with this matter?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well. If Mr. Cooper had not been so amusing, you would have come very close to trying my patience, sir. Sir William."

The judge gestured to the witness chair, still occupied by the sailor.

"Very good, Matthew," the captain said. "Stand down."

"Aye-aye, sir." Another tug and Matthew Cooper took his seat.

It took but a few short minutes for Sir William Stanhope to deprive the estate of Sir Edward Pelham of more than half of the funds available to it outside of Sir Edward's well-mortgaged house. He produced a letter from Sir Edward in which Charlotte's brother had confided his eternal happiness at Caroline's acceptance of his proposal of marriage. And he assured Sir William, whom he acknowledged as responsible for a large portion of his fiancée's wealth, that the?6,547/18s/6d that he was investing for her in the new company founded by Thomas Clanghorne was safe.

The case was over. Her own attorney was dumbfounded. The judge was busy scribbling his order. Charlotte sat in dismay as Sir William greeted his sister and brother just outside the bar. She seethed with jealousy as the door opened one last time to reveal the elderly gentleman cradling Caroline's sleeping tot in his arms. She heard the cry, "Father!" torn from Sir William's lips and witnessed the naval captain abandon his dignity and run pell-mell for the doorway. And she watched that wretched Matthew Cooper and the equally wretched Lucy exchange shy smiles off to the side.

It was too much. She stood to leave.

"Miss Pelham, take your seat," the judge said. "Your appointment as executor of your brother's estate is most unusual. I have a number of questions. Unless you would prefer to have his fiancée administer the estate in your place."

"No, sir."

Charlotte Pelham meekly sat down in defeat as she heard a raucous celebration begin outside the now closed doors behind her.



Cast Adrift - Book 02



"Oh, well, the ship on which you were nearly taken," Barbara chimed in. "I imagine you were quite frightened."

"I rather imagine she was nothing of the kind," another voice cut in.

The women turned to see two men.

"Mr. Whitson," Caroline exclaimed. "How delightful to see you back. Are you finished in France so quickly then?"

"Not at all, Lady Stanhope," Philip Whitson said. "I will return next week, in fact, and we are likely to be there all summer and most of the autumn, I fear. But I did have the honor of escorting his Lordship back to England to receive the honors due him. And he particularly begged for an introduction to the Lioness of the Bay of Biscay."

Caroline blushed, both because of Philip's reference and because she finally recognized the gentleman who had spoken when the two men approached.

"Your Lordship needs no introduction," she said. "All of England knows the Duke of Wellington."

The two women next to her gave a visible start. Perhaps there were those who did not know him, Caroline thought as she repressed a smile, those whose knowledge of English heroes extended only through the early Middle Ages. 

"Nonetheless," Philip continued with a smile. "My Lord, allow me to present Lady Stanhope."

"Enchanted," Wellington said. He took Caroline's hand in his and bowed low to press his lips against her flesh, a kiss that lingered perhaps slightly longer than propriety would have suggested appropriate. It confirmed everything she had heard about his reputation. The victor of the battle of Vitoria and the siege of Toulouse was in his forties, married but, as was often the case when he stepped out in London society, with a wife nowhere to be seen. He was a handsome man, with dark, flashing eyes that seemed full of wit. 

Caroline was not so lost in those eyes, however, that she forgot her own manners.

"And these, my Lord, Mr. Whitson, are Miss Charlotte Pelham and Miss Barbara Corring."

"Ladies," Wellington said with a small inclination of his head. "I understand, Miss Pelham, that I am to meet your brother on the first of next month."

"Truly?" Charlotte said.

"He and I and Lady Stanhope are to share the stage at the party to be given by the Queen. Now if you two ladies will excuse me, I must ask this lovely heroine for a dance."

"With pleasure, my Lord."

Caroline allowed Wellington to escort her to the dance floor. A glance back over her shoulder told her that both women appeared quite worried. Perhaps all the arrangements between Miss Corring and Sir Edward had not been completed, and there was no demonstration of the danger that Caroline posed greater than that she had managed to attract the attentions of the Duke of Wellington.

"Mr. Whitson warned me that you might not accept a dance," the Duke said mischievously.

That remark, it seemed, was itself an invitation. It would only take a moment's flattery by Caroline -- an acknowledgement of the Duke's unstated but obvious interest -- to turn their nascent friendship into something more. As charming as he was, though, Caroline had no interest in a dalliance with a married man.

"Mr. Whitson had never met Charlotte and Barbara before tonight," she answered. "Shall we?"

Caroline ultimately experienced a twinge of regret for having parried his subtle advance so quickly. The Duke of Wellington was also an excellent dancer, and during the course of the first dance, offered a series of outrageous observations on some of the other notables in the room that had Caroline clutching his arm to keep from laughing aloud. He expressed his admiration for her heroics on the Wallace, which he knew in considerable detail, and asked her to convey his warmest regard to her brother William, who had recently joined him in the Order of the Bath. They danced twice more before he finally kissed her hand again and claimed an early morning meeting at the Prime Minister's office.

"But I will see you in two short weeks, my dear."

"I shall look forward to it, my Lord."

It was a harmless flirtation in the end, but Caroline found that she had enjoyed it immensely. And when, the next day, she received a hand-delivered invitation to the Queen's celebration on the first of June, she quietly allowed herself to enjoy that as well.

**********

While Caroline was getting ready for that party, Captain Sir William Stanhope was sitting in his cabin some 400 miles to the south, off the coast of France. The Classic had touched at Portsmouth on its way back, long enough for its Captain and coxswain to make a brief trip to London. Now they were less than a day's sail away from the invasion fleet under the command, at least until it reached Bermuda, of Rear Admiral Poultney Malcolm.

"Come in." William raised his voice to make sure he was heard through the cabin's heavy door.

"You wished to see me, sir?" Matthew Cooper asked as he hesitantly poked his head through the doorway.

"Come in, Matthew. Close the door. Have a seat."

The coxswain followed all three orders slowly.

"Bridges!" William raised his voice again to summon his steward.

"Sir?" the man asked as he entered the cabin.

"Rouse up a bottle of the '08 from the net."

Bridges raised an eyebrow, as if to suggest that the captain did not actually intend to share a bottle of his best with a lowly coxswain, did he? William stared him down, and Bridges finally beat a retreat to locate the worst '08 that he could find.

"You have been quite glum on this voyage, Matthew," William said when they were finally settled and assured of no further interruptions.

"Glum, sir?"

"Unhappy, Matthew. Even Lieutenant Broadbent noted it, and if you've managed to appear glum to Lieutenant Broadbent . . ."

William trailed off as Matthew smiled at his jest. There was no more taciturn officer in the fleet than the first lieutenant of the Classic.

"So what is it, Matthew?"

"Sir?"

William had long ago acquired the gift of silence, and it didn't take long for his coxswain to crack.

"I made her an offer, sir, when we were last in town."

"Lucy?" William could not conceal his delight.

As he nodded, Matthew added, "She turned me down."

"Matthew! She could not hope to do better than you."

"Apparently she could, sir."

"Well, I am truly sorry for it. For my part, I would have been very glad to have been able to make an offer to Lady Stanhope if circumstances were otherwise."

"Circumstances, sir?"

"If she were not my brother's widow," William explained.

This time it was Matthew's silence, in combination with the puzzled expression on his face, that compelled his captain to continue.

"The biblical injunction, of course," he blurted out. "Against marrying your brother's widow. God punishing David for marrying Bathsheba and the like."

"I would not presume to know more than a post-captain about anything, sir," Matthew said. "But I don't believe that Bathsheba had been married to David's brother. Sir."

"Are you sure?" William began looking about the cabin for his Bible.

"The Bible was the only book we had growing up, sir. I believe the problem in David's case was that he actually killed the lady's husband or some such. That was what the Lord had a problem with, as I recollects."

"Really?" William's spirits began to rise.

"Now, there is something in the book of Leviticus, it seems to me, about not marrying thy brother's wife," Matthew said thoughtfully, scratching his chin.

"Really," William said again, sitting back in his chair. 

"Not much of a punishment, though. You're only entitled to daughters thereafter, or perhaps no children at all."

It was William's turn to become lost in thought.

"A man could live with that," he muttered.

"Indeed, sir. Well. I should probably return to my duty."

"Perhaps so, Matthew. One last toast. To Miss Lucy and Mrs. Stanhope. May they find happiness in their new home."

"Oh, I know Miss Lucy will, sir. She did not take to that French girl's cooking."

"Really? I think of Jeanne as a wonderful cook."

"As do I, sir. But Miss Lucy would be losing her breakfast nearly every morning."

"Every morning, Matthew?"

"Yes, sir."

William sat back in his chair and started to chuckle.

"Matthew," he finally said. "You and Lucy never, um . . ."

Matthew's eyes widened.

"No, sir," he blurted out.

"It never occurred to you that Miss Lucy may have rejected your offer because that unfortunate incident a few months back left her, uh, with child?"

Matthew simply stared at his captain.

"Best not to think any more on what a prize lot of ninnies we are, Matthew. Let us toast instead to a quick end to the war and an even quicker return to England."

"Hear hear, sir."

CHAPTER SIX

10 July 1814

My dearest Mrs. Hunter,

It is with some difficulty that I respond to your very kind letter of 7 April, which I received last week. I so enjoyed hearing all of the news of your lovely children, and of your husband's success in business. Riley in particular sounds like quite the little hooligan, and I am quite certain that he will prove just as charming in his adulthood as he has been devilish in his youth. The happy domesticity about which you write makes it all the more trying for me to write you with news that may lead you to no longer regard me with the sisterly affection that is so evident in your letter. Nevertheless, the lifelong love that I will bear for my Geoffrey compels me to advise you of a pending change in my own status.

On the second of June, I was honoured to be invited to a Drawing Room hosted by Her Majesty the Queen. As you may know by now, Geoffrey was awarded a posthumous title by the King at the same ceremony that William became a Knight Companion of the Order of the Bath. I also had a small role in the battle that William directed, consisting largely of ensuring that his ship, the Wallace, did not veer off into the Atlantic, stranding him upon the French ship that he had so gallantly captured. As a result, I have been in some demand here in London, and my escorts to the Drawing Room included no less than the Duke of Wellington and Sir Edward Pelham, Geoffrey's former captain on the Classic, who recently brought that wicked Bonaparte to his exile on the Island of Elba.

I have never been to such a gathering nor dressed in such opulent finery, and I would have been absolutely overwhelmed if not for the kindness of his Lordship and Sir Edward. At one point, as we were seated apart from the horrible crush of people intended to do us honour, Sir Edward remarked that if Napoleon had seen that this crowd of favour-seekers and sycophants were the power behind the King, he would have been emboldened to continue for another five years. To which Lord Wellington retorted with a paraphrase of an epigram that he had apparently delivered in Spain when sent a new draft of troops: "I don't know what effect these men would have on the enemy, but by God, they terrify me." It was all we could do to stop laughing when Her Majesty finally appeared.

Sir Edward, who had brought me the news of Geoffrey's death in person, has always been the very soul of kindness to me, and being thrown together in such a proceeding had the perhaps inevitable effect of drawing us even closer. When he later requested an opportunity to call upon me, I found that I could not refuse him. 

Since that time, I have grown to appreciate his many fine qualities. While I cannot look upon him as a substitute for Geoffrey, nor my affection for him as in any way a replacement for the love I bore your brother, I do have a young son to think of as well, and I am convinced that he would be better off with a father in his life than without. This is even more certain in his case, as your father persists in maintaining legal proceedings, the result of which will be to declare my son illegitimate.

Accordingly, I have accepted Sir Edward's proposal of marriage. We have not as yet made an announcement of our betrothal, as Edward is quite busy re-fighting the Battle of the Nile. It is an odd occupation for a grown man, to be sure, but he takes no end of delight in it. In two weeks time, on the 1st of August, there will be a Golden Jubilee to commemorate 100 years of these German kings and also the Glorious Peace in Europe (although we are really celebrating our victory over Napoleon; I doubt a Pax Napoleonica would have been considered quite so glorious). Part of the celebration will be a re-creation of the Nile naval battle in the Serpentine, and as Edward was one of Lord Nelson's lieutenants at the Nile, he has been asked to supervise. We will publicly announce our engagement to a select group of friends the following day and exchange our vows in Westminster the following month.

I hope you do not think too poorly of me. With your permission, I will keep the drawing of Geoffrey that you sent me last year as a precious memento of the love that we shared. Should you desire it back, however, I beg you will not feel the least reluctance to ask me. I would dearly have loved to have had you as my sister for the rest of our lives, even separated by thousands of miles of sea, and I regret that circumstances were not otherwise.

With fond affection,

Caroline Stanhope

Caroline heard a sound behind her and turned to see Edward standing in the doorway.

"Edward!" she said with a start. "How did you, that is . . ."

"Ah, your Miss Sarah is my best ally."

Caroline sighed. "Perhaps I should hire another woman. Sarah has enough to do with looking after Michael and Lucy."

"You will be the lady of my house soon enough, my love. But I would be happy to send one of my girls over."

"No, no. You're quite right, Edward. I gave Mr. Pembroke notice today that I would be leaving at the end of August. He was not a happy man."

"Writing your sister?" Edward asked.

"Yes," Caroline answered with a whisper. "I wonder if I shall be able put it in the post after I read it over tomorrow."

"I cannot believe that my betrothed would ever lack courage."

"Courage?" Caroline said with a laugh. "Perhaps not. But judgment? That is altogether different."

"Come to bed, my darling," Edward said, his voice husky with desire.

"Bed?" 

"Yes. You do have one, I see. Almost as nice as mine."

"But Lucy, and Sarah."

"Are your discreet servants, Caroline. Besides, Miss Sarah already promised me breakfast in the morning."

"Why, that little . . ." 

She was unable to sustain her false umbrage. Caroline had been terrified at their first coupling, over a month ago now. Geoffrey was the only man with whom she had previously made love, and then only during the short honeymoon before he had to return to this ship. Edward was ten years her senior, and Caroline had little doubt but that he had enjoyed his ports of call as much as all sailors did. It was true that the act itself no longer held any terror for her, but she wanted desperately for Edward to see her as a woman, and not as a girl of twenty-one. All she had to draw on were the sights of the men and women in her father's prison, married and unmarried, coupling unashamedly in their cells as she had walked past.

But Edward was a man of extraordinary patience, a man, moreover, who had no intention of doing anything that would let such a jewel of a woman slip through his grasp. Caroline's confidence had grown considerably since that first time, and although she allowed Edward to pull her away from her writing desk, she made an impulsive decision as they reached the bed. She stopped, and when Edward turned to learn the cause of her delay, she quickly undid the sash of her dressing gown and let it fall from her shoulders to the floor.

"Caroline," he whispered, drinking in the naked body of his fiancé. It was a magnificent body. The only effect of her pregnancy had been an embarrassingly permanent swelling of her breasts, and an accompanying sensitivity that made her shiver with pleasure each time they were touched. Otherwise, her figure had returned to its previous contours, her torso only serving to accentuate the narrowness of her waist and the swell of her hips. 

It was the center of those hips that caught Edward's attention. Caroline had neatly trimmed the lush, brown growth between her thighs, offering him a teasing glimpse of her cleft. She stood there in front of him, her hands on her hips, one foot slightly in front of the other with her heel off the floor, allowing him to fully see her for the very first time in the flickering light of the oil lamp that stood on his bedside table.

He reached for her, only to have her grab his arms. Stunned, he allowed her to push him back onto the bed.

She leaned over and reached for his dressing gown, pulling it open and yanking his drawers down his thighs and over his knees. Stepping on the garment, she pushed it to the floor and allowed him to free his feet just as she climbed atop him.

"It's my turn, darling," she said, her voice dropping to a lusty alto. "This time I want to be astride my magnificent stallion."

She continued moving up until she was sitting atop his thighs. He reached for her again, and she caught his hands once more.

"No," she told him, wagging a finger at him as he pulled his hands back to his side. "You will just do as you're told, naughty Sir Edward."

He could feel his manhood straining toward her as she held herself above him, just out of reach. He desperately wanted to grab her hips and impale her upon himself, but it was clear she had something different in mind. In the month since the Queen's Drawing Room, she had learned much. And like any spirited filly, she had to be given her head sometimes.

She put her fingers on her belly, tracing them upwards slowly. Edward gasped as they reached the underside of her breasts, and then curved inward, as she cupped the white flesh in the palms of her hands. He stared in wonder as he saw her nipples poking through her fingers, stiffening as they were squeezed between them. His cock jumped as she pushed her breasts together, rubbing one against the other.

She delighted in his open leering, the tongue hanging from his mouth, his struggle not to reach out and claim her. Licking her lips, she dropped her hands lower, pushing them across her belly this time, slowly approaching the triangle between her legs.

Caroline paused there, enjoying the touch of her fingers against her sex, wondering if it really would be a sin to do this to herself some time, when she was alone in the house. And then one hand plunged through her legs, to take her fiancé's cock in her slender fingers. He groaned as he felt her thumb on the ridge, softly stroking him. He was between her middle and ring fingers, which curled around to add to the anticipation of her delicious and most unexpected manipulations.

"What do you want, darling?" Caroline asked, her voice a sultry promise. "Tell me."

Sir Edward Pelham knew perfectly well how to speak to the common women and whores that he had encountered as a young sailor. But this was a lady, the Lady Caroline Stanhope to be precise. She couldn't possibly want that. Could she?

"Tell me, Edward," she repeated. "Tell me what you want."

He cleared his throat.

"For you to, er . . ."

She smiled encouragement.

"To what, darling?" she asked. She had pulled his cock up so that the tip brushed against her moist, swollen sex. She was rubbing it wantonly back and forth against herself, her face flushed with pleasure, her skin quivering with need. "To fuck me," he whispered.

His reward was immediate. His cock was enveloped in a velvet glove, trapped in a prison of hot, undulating muscle.

"Again," Caroline repeated a few minutes later.

"Fuck me, darling," Edward said.

His words were electric. She closed her eyes and rested her palms on his taut stomach.




Cast Adrift - Book 02



"Yes," she whispered back, her hips starting to slowly thrust back and forth. 

"Fuck me, Caroline," Edward said.

"Oh, God." Caroline pitched forward, almost losing her balance. 

Her breasts were hanging in front of her, dangling mere inches in front of Edward's face as she caught herself with her hands on his shoulders.

"Fuck me, my love," Edward said. 

He realized that he had never enjoyed the sexual act so much. Caroline was his equal, his partner, taking just as much pleasure as she was giving. She had begun to raise her hips up and down, riding his pole just as she had promised, every tight muscle in her thighs and arms outlined against the film of perspiration that covered her young body.

"Fuck me, my wife," Edward said. 

That was enough. She dropped forward, collapsing on his chest, her long, chestnut tresses covering his face as he took over the work, if it could be called that, of bringing them both to a peak. His hips thrusting upward against her, he knew that neither of them would last long. He found himself moving faster, harder, deeper than he had ever done before. Caroline was gasping, her breath coming in ragged spurts as she appeared to reach one climax after another.

Finally, Edward found that he could last no longer. His legs straining, he felt himself tighten and empty inside her, flooding her, it seemed, with shot after shot from the cannon wedged between her thighs. She had picked her head up, her eyes glazed over, her mouth a surprised "O," and she released one final, glorious shiver that seemed to last forever.

**********

"I expect it will be a trying day, darling," Edward said the next morning as they sat at the breakfast table.

"Lunch with your sister is always trying," Caroline answered. "She still hopes to marry you off to her friend, you know."

"Miss Corring?"

"There has been talk of uniting your families for years," Caroline said, mimicking the tone his sister had used at their last meeting. She and Edward both began to laugh. 

"I will tell her today that I have other plans," Edward said. 

They both looked up to see Sarah enter with Michael in her arms. 

"Ah, thank you, Sarah," Caroline said. "And how are you this morning, my darling Michael?"

"Quite well behaved," Sarah answered for him. "Quite the little angel he is, mum."

"I'll just hold him for a while, then," Caroline said, cradling her one year old son to her bosom. "Other than lunch, however, I cannot think what should be so trying, darling. It's just an opera."

Edward rolled his eyes.

"'Just an opera,' she says. As if most people went about life singing about their problems in duets and trios accompanied by an orchestra."

"I happen to like them," Caroline said. "And I cannot help but think the theme of this one appealing to you. Cosi fan tutte is about nothing more than the predictability of the so-called weaker sex, darling."

Edward rolled his eyes again, and Caroline feared he was about to make a licentious remark that even Sarah would have no difficulty understanding. The nursemaid was hovering around the door, still unsure, in her new role as cook, when she was being dismissed.

"How is Miss Lucy, Sarah?" Caroline asked.

"No change, mum," the nursemaid answered. "Physically, she seems fine. But her state of mind, mum, is not healthy."

"Thank you, Sarah. I'll look in on her when I bring Michael back to you after breakfast."

Sarah smiled and dropped a curtsy before she left the room.

"She is so very good with him," Edward said, smiling back as he watched Sarah depart.

"Yes." Caroline beamed at him.

"You needn't act like I've finally agreed to accept Michael into our family, dear. I loved him at first sight."

"I was thinking nothing of the sort," Caroline said.

"It was writ on your face," Edward pointed out.

"You know me entirely too well, Edward Pelham. What time is your sister expected?"

"Half past eleven," he answered.

"Then I shall barely have time to dress and look in on Lucy and fix my hair." 

Edward cast a shocked glance at the grandfather's clock behind Lucy.

"But --"

"I am perfectly aware what time it is, Edward," Caroline said. "I shall be lucky to be ready by a quarter 'til twelve. Come along, Michael. It's time to see Sarah once again."

Sir Edward Pelham's laughter was still ringing in her ears as she abruptly stood and left, unwilling to let him see the smile spreading across her own face.

*********

Had she been able to think clearly the next morning, Caroline would have had to concede that Edward had been correct; the opera had proved to be far more trying than the luncheon. Charlotte was a polite, if perhaps not a gracious guest. She accepted the news of her brother's upcoming marriage with aplomb, her disappointment suggested only by a slight straightening of her back. Her subsequent conversation was more perfunctory than enthusiastic, but she did not make any truly cutting remarks about Caroline's usurpation of her friend Barbara's rightful place at her brother's side. Caroline entertained a suspicion throughout that her future sister's reticence may have been due more to her fear of Caroline's much sharper wit.

What the luncheon lacked as a trial, the opera -- or more precisely, the post-opera receiving line -- more than made up for. Before the curtain, the conductor had turned to the box in which Caroline and Sir Edward sat, and the audience had quickly turned his salute into a raucous cheering. Sir Edward pulled Caroline to her feet to acknowledge the applause and allow the opera, much to his chagrin, to begin.

Afterwards, a breathless stagehand appeared at the door of the box before the couple could depart, proclaiming that the cast had expressed a unanimous wish to thank the Lioness of Biscay Bay for her attendance.

Caroline flushed a deep scarlet, still uncomfortable with public recognition, and protested to Edward as they followed the young man down the back stairs that he should have received an invitation as well.

Sir Edward simply smiled.

"I may have brought the Emperor to Elba, my dear, but it was you and William who brought L'Empereur into the British Navy. Now just enjoy the attention, Caroline. I shall be more than happy to remain no more than your escort tonight."

Caroline nevertheless found herself reminding each and every cast member of Sir Edward's role in securing Bonaparte's exile, her face frozen in a smile as she struggled to find compliments for all of the performers. She found it easy to compliment the producer; the set had been stunning and the costumes lavish. Caroline introduced Sir Edward, and found herself introduced in turn to the producer's companion.

"Hello, darling," the woman said as she spread her arms wide.

Caroline found herself frozen, unable to prevent the woman from pulling her into a tight embrace and kissing her on the cheek. Her immobility vanished as she felt the bile rising in her throat, and she was similarly unable to prevent herself from pushing the woman away from her.

"Mother." It was a whisper laced with vitriol.

"Your mother?" Edward asked. "I thought your mother was dead."

"My mother is dead to me," Caroline answered with a sneer. "My mother died when she left my father alone in Exeter debtor's prison and me to raise myself in her place."

"Your father was a fool," the woman said, her voice rising. "I'm sure you don't remember either of his earlier bankruptcies, do you? Or that I was forced to support our little family on my back for three years."

"How smart of you to rehearse your most recent role, mother," Caroline said with a sneer at the producer. "You are still a 'companion,' I see. Another word for mistress, mother? Or whore?"

"And the high and mighty Lady Stanhope?" The woman's laugh was harsh and cutting. "How brave of the raven to chide the blackness."

Caroline drew back her arm to slap the grin off the woman's face, only to have her fiancé catch her wrist.

"Darling, we should leave," he said sotto voce. He firmly pulled her away from the line, away from the scene that would no doubt be the prime topic of conversation in coffee houses and parlors across London by the following morning. Caroline screamed back over her shoulder that at least she should be married within the month, and to the man that she was living with. But once outside, her venom fled. When she turned to face Edward, he found that he could not distinguish the tears on her face from the effects of the light mist. She buried her head in his shoulder and began sobbing. He gently led her to their carriage and assured her that all would be right in time.

"How could I?" Caroline was still distraught the next morning. "How could I act like such a . . . such a shrew?"

"You were provoked," Edward murmured.

"By my mother? I know she didn't have an easy life. Father told me as much. And still, as soon as I recognized her, I wanted nothing more than to repay her for all those years I spent without a mother, for all those years in which I took care of Father. It was as if I were possessed."

"I did not quite understand the reference to the raven," Edward said.

"She was calling me a whore," Caroline said, her voice bitter with memory. "And a hypocrite. It is from Mr. Shakespeare's Troilus and Cressida."

"Ah." Edward nodded sagely. "Still, we have solved the problem of when to announce the marriage."

"Oh, Edward, I am sorry."

"It is no matter, my dear. As I have said repeatedly before, I care for nobody's opinion but your own. Since our betrothal is now a public matter, though, perhaps this is a good time to discuss our financial union."

Caroline invited him to continue with a smile.

"I feel somewhat hesitant bringing this up," Edward said. "You do have rather a fortune if I remember correctly."

"Everything that I have is due to the courage and generous of yourself, your officers, and your men," Caroline said.

"And William," Edward added by way of correction.

"Sir William." Caroline delightedly corrected him.

"Of course. Sir William."

"But Edward, you are quite wealthy yourself. I cannot believe that you require any more money. But you are more than welcome to it." 

"No, no. You are quite right. I do not need to borrow your money. However, an investment opportunity has arisen that I -- or perhaps I should say we -- that we may regret not taking advantage of."

"Darling Edward, it was you who suggested putting my money in the Naval Funds. And I believe it had done quite well there. If you know a better place, I beg you, invest it where you will."

Edward smiled and pulled a letter from his jacket.

"I had very much hoped you would be agreeable, Caroline. This letter is part of a much larger packet I received from Charles Langhorne, a somewhat older gentlemen and one of my former lieutenants. A man under whom Geoffrey first served as a midshipman. He has secured a patent on a method of steam propulsion."

"For propelling what, darling?"

"Ships, of course, dearest. Mere boats to start, of course. But eventually he foresees the day, as I do, when ships may be propelled across the open ocean by steam."

"It sounds frightfully dangerous," Caroline said.

"Oh, no. I believe that our money will be quite safe. He has attained an excellent reputation in the days since he left my command."

"I meant the ocean travel, darling. I am more than happy to invest my money with your friend. How do I go about it?"

"I shall prepare a letter to your man of business, Caroline, authorizing the withdrawal of the necessary funds. Charles needs to buy a factory of a type never before built, and requires quite a sum to start. The good news, of course, is that we will be significant shareholders in his company. In fact, he has offered me a seat on the board of directors."

"So you will be able to supervise our investment. How wise of you, Edward."

"Thank you, Caroline. I believe it will make us quite well off in a very short time."

Although Caroline's spat with her mother was the foremost subject of conversation in both high and low society, Sir Edward's determination to ignore it was aided by a bustle of activity in both the financial and naval worlds. In between combining their two fortunes and planning his upcoming battle on the Serpentine, he had few minutes to spare for gossip.

Caroline was not as fortunate. Her outings produced looks of either sympathy or disgust from the women with whom she was thrown together, depending usually on the women's relations with her own mother. She eagerly looked forward of the approach of the Jubilee, knowing that only something so grand, or some fresh scandal, would distract the public.

All three adjoining parks - St. James Park, Hyde Park, and Green Park - were filled to capacity early on the morning of August 1. The crowd reveled in the many cake houses, taverns, and apple stalls that had been established in temporary structures throughout the entire area, taking in one highlight after another. Green Park featured Mr. Sadler's daring ascent in a balloon. Hyde Park witnessed the review of 12,000 troops by the Regent in company with the King Freidrich Wilhelm III of Prussia and Czar Alexander I of Russia, and a reenactment of the Battle of Trafalgar. And St. James Park, where Edward and Caroline were accorded seats of honor amid the throng, included a seven-story Chinese pagoda in addition to Edward's thrilling battle reenactment.

"Wasn't it a magnificent day, Caroline?" Edward asked as Colonel Congreve's fireworks display began to near its end.

"Is it the same day?" Caroline's voice betrayed just a hint of exhaustion. "I had rather thought we were long into tomorrow at this point, darling."

"Ha!" Edward laughed and absent-mindedly patted his fiancée on the knee. "I'm quite certain you are right. Let me see if there is enough light to see my pocket watch."

"Edward, look," Caroline said. He looked up quickly, alarmed by the urgent note in her voice.

"Look where?"

"At the pagoda. Is it supposed to be on fire?"

"No. It must be the gas. Those fools think that it is part of the show. Perhaps I should --"

Caroline heard one final explosion, which she took to be the last of the fireworks.

"Should what, darling?" she asked absently as she continued to watch the burning building across the park. "Edward? Should what?"

She turned and stared in horror at Sir Edward Pelham, whose head had sunk forward onto his breast, spattering his dark naval uniform with the bright red blood flowing from the wound in the center of his forehead.

"Vive l'Empereur! Vive Napoleon!"

She turned at the cry from behind her, her eyes widening even more. Less than ten feet away stood a poorly dressed man, his eyes wild, his beard flecked with saliva. In his left hand, he bore a pistol pointed downwards, smoke still drifting from it. His right hand brought up another pistol to aim at his next intended victim. Caroline screamed as she found herself looking down the barrel.



Cast Adrift - Book 03



CHAPTER NINE

"Yes?"

Caroline paused, thankful that the knock on the door had not caused her to smear the fair copy she was making of the letter in front of her. The paper that the Duke's valet had given her was far too expensive to permit her to use any more than she needed.

The door swung open and the smiling face of James Stanhope appeared. Caroline rose to her feet.

"James! When did you return?"

"No more than ten minutes since," James answered. He stepped forward to give Caroline a light kiss on the cheek. "I understand that I missed my brother in London. Shopping, of all things."

Caroline blushed.

"I think it wonderful news," James continued. "And I have two other pieces of news of my own. First, Father commands me to inform you that supper will be ready precisely at five o'clock."

"Your father actually intends to prepare our supper," Caroline said with a disbelieving shake of her head.

"I assure you he does. It was a tradition when we were youngsters. All the servants were given the night off on New Year's Eve. Father would roast a lamb. It appears he has forgotten a great deal, though. He meekly accepts instruction from your Lucy as if the woman had a whip."

"Oh," Caroline exclaimed. "I should allow Lucy the evening off as well."

"Lucy, my dear, is not a servant in this house. She is a guest. Father made that quite clear to both of us when Lucy asked just now if I should like some water. I was told in no uncertain terms that I knew where the pitcher was, and that if it was empty I also knew where the well was." 

Caroline laughed. 

"So, we will sup in three-quarters of an hour. My other news is even better. England is at peace."

"At peace?"

"Our representatives concluded a treaty with the Americans in Ghent on Christmas Eve. The news reached His Majesty's government as I was preparing to depart to assist in the final negotiations. With the Congress in Vienna on extended pause, I am delighted to find myself completely out of work for the moment."

"Peace," Caroline echoed. "Oh, James. How wonderful."

"Indeed. At peace with America. Napoleon in exile on Elba. No more fighting."

"If only William and Matthew were here."

"I imagine they would not be in quite as celebratory a mood."

"Why ever not?"

"The Royal Navy will have need for far fewer post-captains and coxswains. William will have his half-pay, to be sure, but in any event it is not the money that they will miss."

"It is the sailing," Caroline said.

"It is the life," James said. "They are not used to living as we do. Oh, don't worry, my love. I know my brother. He will bemoan his fate for a time but it will not take him long to find a new interest. And he will not let Matthew suffer."

"I should hope not. Matthew and Lucy are to be married next month."

"Are they?" James clapped his hands. "That is even more good news. We have much to celebrate tonight then. Shall I bring you down to supper?"

"That would be most kind, James. I do so hope that he and William will be here before the night is out. Really, they should have been here by now. But before you go, may I read you something?"

"Certainly," he said. He took the seat that Caroline indicated.

"Obviously, I shall have to change this letter now to note the peace between our country and your sister's . . ."

"Courtney!"

"Yes, your sister and I are engaged in a very strange correspondence. I last wrote her in July when I was promised to Sir Edward. I very meekly expressed regret that she would be my sister no more. Yes, please laugh all you like, James."

"Your pardon, madam."

"She evidently received my letter in October," Caroline continued, "and wrote immediately to wish me well and assure me that we would be forever sisters. Do stop laughing, James."

"It is simply too much."

"Yes. May I continue, dear brother?"

James was still laughing, but indicated that she should go on.

"I received her letter last week and started a response of my own. ‘Dearest sister: My topsy-turvy world has rotated once again. First, however, I must give you good news. Your father's mental faculties have been restored for the past two months and he charges me specifically with sending you his dear, dear love.'"

"She will be astonished," James said.

"I'm quite sure," Caroline agreed. "Then I tell her briefly of the trial and of your father's astonishing appearance.  And of your brother's heroic appearance."

"And of Matthew's comic appearance, I trust. That was the best part."

"I doubt I can do it justice," Caroline said.

James waved his hand.

"I will write a letter of my own.  Pray remind her who I am so that my letter does not come as a complete surprise. Oh, and pray do not look at me as if I were an ogre. I was teasing. I have written twice this year, even though as an employee of his Majesty's Foreign Office I could be hanged for corresponding with an enemy."

"James!"

"Oh, it's quite true. Go on, though. Before the constables arrive to arrest me."

"Very well." Caroline turned to the letter. "But you take altogether far too much advantage of my ignorance, James.  In any event: ‘Since the trial, we – myself, Michael, my servant, Lucy, William, and his coxswain, Matthew – have been ensconced in your childhood home at your father's express invitation.'"

"Demand, more likely," James interjected. 

Caroline gave him a look that wiped the smile off of his face.

"‘He delights in playing with Michael and is filled with regret that he chased you – and most especially your children – across the sea. He took more delight in Michael's Christmas presents than Michael did, who, after all, is not yet even two years of age.' Oh, I wish you had been here then, James. It was truly delightful."

"Father has always enjoyed Christmas," James said quietly.

"Now here is the important part. You must tell me if I have the tone quite right. And, of course, I will have to add the news about the peace, which clearly is now the most important."

"Oh, clearly."

James had a smirk on his face. Caroline frowned at him and continued.

"‘The best news, however, is that I may once again call you sister without any hesitation. William has indicated his intention to propose marriage, and has left for London with his coxswain to get your grandmother's ring resized in order to formalize our promises. I cannot tell you the joy with which this fills me.'"

"William as well," James said. "Marrying into wealth."

"Your brother will be the Earl," Caroline responded sharply.

"And a very, very happy Earl," James said as he stood to kiss his sister once again. "Father told me your news when I came. ‘Peace be damned,' he said when I told him my news. "Your brother is to be married.'

"As for the tone, I believe you have captured it perfectly. It lacks only the halting, stammering speech in which I'm sure my brother delivered his – not his proposal, mind you, but his intention to propose."

"It was quite charming," Caroline insisted, blushing all the while. "And he wants to have the ring when he proposes.  I told him it was unnecessary, and that I felt guilty that it is not in the possession of your sister. But he informed me that its gift is a prerogative of the eldest son and that you had very kindly passed it to him."

"And the delay also gives him several more days to rehearse his actual proposal. No, my dear, I could not be more delighted for you. And for my brother.  What a glorious year this has turned out to be for the Stanhopes. Now, if you will excuse me, I must get ready for supper. I will return in fifteen minutes time."

"Fifteen minutes?" Caroline uttered a commonplace shriek. "I cannot possibly get ready in fifteen minutes."

James quietly pulled the door shut behind him as Caroline scurried about the room.

**********

The Earl of Prescott's formal dining room contained a long table exquisitely wrought of native walnut. It also contained a much smaller mahogany table where five settings of the Earl's splendid silver service had been laid out. At the head of the table was a recently built highchair, and it was there that Caroline deposited her excited son. James pulled out the chair to Michael's left for Caroline and claimed the chair next to her for herself.

"Are we ready?" the Earl growled from the servant's hallway a few moments later.

"Yes, sir," James said.

The Earl entered with a vision on his arm. The gown was absolutely gorgeous, a confection of green velvet and brown silk. Caroline blinked three times before she spoke.

"Lucy?"

Lucy flushed a deep scarlet.

"He made me wear it, Caroline," she said.

"You mean he forced you into his room and stuffed you into that dress?" James demanded.

"It was my late wife's," the Earl said. "James's mother's. I told Miss Lucy that I should very much like to see it worn for another New Year's Eve."

"It's lovely, sir," Caroline said.

"Thank goodness that Matthew isn't here to see me," Lucy said. "I would never hear the end of his teasing."

Pleased with the beginning of the dinner, the Earl left to begin bringing in the dishes.

"It is beautiful dress, Lucy," Caroline said. "Forty years old, I would guess."

"Just fancy," James added, "it might have been to Court."

"It has pockets," Lucy said doubtfully. "Only servants' dresses have pockets."

"Oh, Lucy," Caroline said with a laugh. "You have every right to wear such a lovely dress."

"That would be my mother," James said. "Never saw a ruffled dress that couldn't hide a pocket. Never saw a pocket that couldn't carry a spoon. Never saw a spoon she couldn't use to slap our hands when they got too close to the pudding."

"You obviously grew up in a state of great privation," Caroline said. 

"Voilá!"

The Earl had finished bringing in his dishes and finished with a flourish by taking the cover off a beautiful roast lamb.

"My Lord, it looks delicious," Caroline exclaimed.

"Miss Burton provided most of the instruction," the Earl said with a bow to Lucy. "I merely carried out her orders.  I did select the wine, however.  A Chambertin from 1779."

"When Father received his peerage," James added.

"I have so few left," the Earl said quietly. "And so few left to share them with. Allow me to pour."

"No, no," Caroline said as he began to pour for a delighted Michael. "Milk will be fine. Lucy, is there any milk?"

"Nonsense," roared His Lordship. "There are no milksops in the Stanhope family."

"Just a sip, daughter," he added in an aside.  

He had already won her over.

"The Stanhope family." Caroline spoke as if hypnotized.

"The Stanhope family!" The Earl raised his glass.

"The Stanhope family," the rest echoed.

"Including those not here," the Earl said.

"Amen," Caroline added.

It had been, Caroline reflected later as she tucked her young son into his crib, a glorious supper. The lamb was perfectly cooked, the pudding done to a fine turn. The wine was everything that the Earl's enthusiasm had promised. When she returned downstairs, she found Lord Prescott pouring glasses of port.

"Your Lordship," she said, raising her glass again when he had finished. "You may come to work for William and I whenever you say the word."

The company laughed heartily, a sign of the acceptance that Caroline and her party had felt upon their arrival. They were enjoying yet another laugh when Lucy excused herself to go upstairs.

"Be a dear and check on Michael," Caroline said. "His constant turning worries me."

"I shall turn him right back, Caroline," Lucy answered patiently.

"There is nothing so easy to turn as a sleeping babe," she told the men with a smile.

Lucy had no more cleared the staircase that led from that room to the second floor and turned down the hallway than the Earl heard the tinkle of glass from the nearby French doors.

"What is the meaning of this?" the Earl growled as three men entered the room. All three held pistols. 

"Do ye not recognize us, yer Lordship?" the one in the middle asked.

"Certainly not."

"It's him," Caroline whispered. "From the trial."

"Wright?" the Earl asked. "You miserable sot, Wright. How dare you invade my home?"

"I warned ye, did I not, yer Grace, that I would be back to collect the wages for meself and me associates." 

"You will leave at once, Wright."

The Earl advanced on the ringleader as if he meant to physically throw him from the house. One of the others lifted his pistol and slammed it into the old man's temple.

"Father!" James cried as he watched his father crumple to the ground.

"Stand back!" Wright ordered before rounding on his assistant. "Chase, you stupid git! How's ‘e going to tell us where the money is?"

"He can tell us," Chase said, waving his pistol at James. 

James lifted his lip in a sneer.

"I assure you, gentlemen, I have not been in the house for years. You have assaulted the only man with access to the money and you will hang for it in the New Year."

Wright sneered back.

"Well, perhaps her Ladyship will share from her riches what's owed to us."

"She will do no such thing," James said quickly to forestall Caroline's agreement. "If you intend to steal from us, go ahead and do so."

"You said we weren't stealing," the other man said. "Stealin's a hangin' crime."

"Shut up!" Wright screamed. "We're collecting. Now give us the money."

He pointed his pistol first at Caroline and then at James. Neither one spoke.

"Shall I cut her?" Chase asked. He put his pistol on a side table and pulled out a long knife.

Wright looked once again from Caroline to James.

"No," he said slowly. "Cut him. Trent, hold the gentleman's hands behind his back."

Trent put his pistol on the table as well and grabbed hold of James.

"You'd best tell us, yer Lady," Wright said to Caroline, "or your financy here won't be fatherin' any children for ye."

Trent had little trouble wrestling James' hands behind him. James was nearly as tall as William, but a life of desk work had taken its toll. Chase shoved Caroline into Wright's grip as he advanced on James with his knife and reached for his trousers.

"Stop!"

All three intruders turned to the source of the sound.

CHAPTER TEN

Lucy Burton stood haughtily at the top of the stairs.

"What is the meaning of this?  Unhand my maid."

"I thought you said this was ‘er Ladyship?" Trent demanded of Wright as Lucy slowly descended.

Wright looked from one woman to the other. The two women were remarkably similar.

"It don't matter," he said finally. "They can both watch him cut. Just gives us one more to squeal."

"Oh!" 

The men turned again to watch Lucy slip down the last three steps and land on her rear end in an inglorious heap the floor. 

"Lucy!" Caroline wrenched herself free of Wright's grasp and went to Lucy's help as the three intruders roared with laughter.

"What are you doing?" Caroline whispered as she reached for Lucy's arm.

Lucy grabbed Caroline's wrist and jammed it into her pocket. Caroline felt her fingers wrap around a wooden grip. She looked up to see her friend's eyes drop toward her other pocket, letting Caroline know that Lucy had another pistol there.

"This is better than a show," Wright said, waving his pistol about. "Now for some blood. Boys."

"Let him go," Caroline said coldly.

Wright looked over to see two pistols pointed at him. 

"Or you two ladies will both try to shoot me?" he asked with a sneer. "We're in trouble, boys. No telling where those bullets might go."

Chase and Trent joined him in laughter.

Wright smiled for a moment as he decided which to shoot. It was clear that he wasn't going to get the money this way. Perhaps he should just shoot the only man left; hat would still leave two women for entertainment. Perhaps, in the agonies that would follow, one of them would break.

His pistol moved no more than a fraction of an inch before the women's two pistols rang out. Wright died immediately, a bullet through his left eye.

"Oh, no," Lucy said, pulling a third pistol from her pocket and aiming it in the general direction of the other two men. "It don't matter to me which one of you dies. Whichever goes for his pistol first. 

The two men were paralyzed as Lucy addressed James.

"Perhaps you would pick them up, er, sir."

"My pleasure, love." James squirmed from Trent's unresisting grip and moved around Chase to pick up the pistols. "I wonder whether Mr. Cooper realizes quite what a treasure he is getting."

*********

Mr. Cooper and his captain entered the drawing room twenty minutes before the beginning of the New Year. They found Caroline and Lucy sitting on the couch listening to James read from one of the various periodicals that Lord Prescott took.

"Is Father quite alright?" he asked. 

"Darling, you quite frightened us," Caroline said. "Do you not know better than to sneak up on women like that?"

"I beg your pardon, my dear," William said as he absently kissed Caroline on the cheek. "I saw father as we passed through the kitchen on the way in from the stables. He has quite a lump on his forehead. He claims to have fallen."

He looked around. James's attention was riveted on his magazine. Lucy was looking adoringly at Matthew. Caroline was looking at her feet.

"Did anyone see him fall?" William asked.

He looked from James to Caroline to Lucy. Lucy was the one who finally cracked.

"Caroline killed him."

"I most certainly did not," Caroline said.

"You most certainly did so. She did, sir."

"You were the one who killed him," Caroline insisted.

"Killed who?" William roared.

"Whom," James corrected him.

"I say no more," Lucy said.

"I will kill someone myself if this goes on much longer," William said.

James sighed and put down his magazine. 

"Oh, very well. Three gentlemen broke in and demanded money from Father. He resisted, of course, and they struck him. He is fine, by the way. He reports no headache whatsoever. In any event, Miss Lucy, who was upstairs, managed to come down with three pistols in the pockets of her dress. I never asked how you knew where they were, dear?"

"Which I saw Matthew a-cleaning them one day," Lucy said with a blush. 

"Of course," James said. "Anway, the leader of the group, a Mr. White –"

"Wright," Caroline corrected him.

"Mr. Wright, then. He is dead. As to who killed him, I would point out only that Caroline's bullet left a very neat hole in the Gainsborough over on the east wall."

Caroline stuck out her tongue at Lucy.

"The remaining gentlemen have been given quarters downstairs," James said. "We will call the sheriff on the morrow. Now, don't you have something to ask Caroline before the day is over? Before the year is through?"

Under four pairs of eyes, Captain Sir William Stanhope decided that his curiosity would not serve him any further this evening.  He fell to one knee and pulled a small box from the pocket of his waistcoat.

"Caroline, would you do me the honour of accepting this ring as a token of the love that I shall bear you throughout our married lives together?"

"Oh, William," Caroline answered. "Of course I will, darling."

They beamed at each other as William placed the ring on Caroline's finger.

"Bravo, William. That was exceptionally well put. Rehearsed it all the way up, did you not?"

"Very well put indeed," Lucy said with a significant look. "A girl should be quite fortunate to hear such a proposal from her suitor." 

"Matthew?" William asked. "Did you not ask Miss Lucy for her hand?"

"Which I already did," Matthew protested.

"Which all you did was point out that marriage was a joyful state," Lucy said.

"And which you agreed," Matthew responded. "Sufficient to announce our engagement, at any wise. Which Mrs. Woodward gave me some cake in celebration. Because you told her of it."




Cast Adrift - Book 03



It was the first argument with a woman in which Matthew Cooper had ever prevailed. And, as on those rare occasions when it would happen again, his triumph would be short-lived.

Lucy sniffed.

"Still, Matthew," Caroline said, "a woman does appreciate something romantic, some avowal of love from the man with whom she will spend the rest of her life."

"Now, now." William gently patted his fiancée's hand. "The poor man does not need to be shown up by his captain."

But the poor man was already on both knees in front of his love.

"I have no ring," he said. "But I offer you my love, Lucy Burton. It is a love so bright, as is the shining of the dawn. It is a love so sweet, as is the honey of the bees."

Matthew took a deep breath, conscious of his heart hammering within his chest.

"It is a love so soft, as is the skin of newborn lamb. It is a love so fine, as is a cloth of finest silk. It is that love that I bear for you, Lucy Burton."

Lucy sniffed again.

Caroline sniffed as well.

Both women burst into tears and fell into each other's arms.

Matthew turned to stare at his captain, a stricken look on his face. William looked equally puzzled.

"You bear being shown up by your captain quite well, Matthew Cooper," James said. "No doubt it is a daily occurrence. I do not believe I have heard that piece before. From where does it come?"

"Sir?" Matthew Cooper asked.

"Your poem. Who wrote it?"

Matthew Cooper reached into his pocket to pull out a wad of greasy papers. From their midst he extracted a well-worn sheet filled with scribblings and crossings-out in all directions. 

"I guess I did mostly, sir. Although it ain't no poem. It don't even rhyme, sir."

He offered James the paper. The women had begun a new flood of tears.

"You wrote it yourself?" William asked.

"Well, not as who should say wrote it, sir. Not having the writing at all. Mr. Lampson it was wrote most of it down, sir. And he suggested the bees. Along with these last two lines which I didn't say, sir, on account of Lieutenant Neville suggesting that ‘twould be better shorter."

"My God, man," James exclaimed. "You've filled both sides of the page."

"Oh, aye, sir. There were many as who had suggestions for me. On the barky. In Bermuda. I had them all copied to learn by rote. But Mr. Neville it was suggested that –"

"Yes, yes," William said. "You did very well, Matthew."

"Are you quite certain, sir?" Matthew asked, glancing at the tear-stained faces of the two women on the couch.

"Quite certain, Matthew," Caroline said softly.

Lucy took his chin in her hand and turned his head so she could look into his eyes.

"Quite certain, Matthew Cooper, you silver tongued devil. Now take me upstairs before the New Year arrives." 

William pulled Caroline to her feet as their servants ran up the stairs.

"I believe we will call it an evening as well, dear brother," he said. "May we leave you here by yourself?"

"Most certainly," James said. He picked up the magazine. "I shall celebrate having my manhood intact for yet another year."

"I beg your pardon?" William asked. Caroline was already pulling him toward the stairs.

James waved his brother and sister toward the stairs.

"And a fine manhood it is," Caroline said over her shoulder as she reached the bottom step.

"Aye, quite nice," Lucy yelled from the upper landing.

"You told me you didn't look!" James said. But he returned to his magazine with a smile.

**********

The Reverend Barnabus Cocksley rearranged his cassock for the tenth time and cracked his door to peer out at the crowd for the fifth time. His poor little church was bursting at the seams, the pews filled to overflowing with a mix of raggedly dressed civilians and impeccably attired naval officers.

He pulled his pocket watch out and opened it. It was time. He walked out to the altar and faced the congregation before nodding to the two men who were waiting at the door to his left.

Matthew Cooper took a step and stopped, even more overwhelmed by the size of the crowd than the priest had been. His best man, Captain Sir William Stanhope, nearly knocked him down. Cocksley watched Captain Stanhope hiss into his coxswain's ear, and the man strode forward as if he had been struck with a whip. 

Cocksley jerked his head up as the organist began playing. He was still quite unused to having an organ in his church. For that matter, he was unused to the idea that the Earl of Prescott had donated an organ to his church and had had it installed in the last two weeks. He was unused to the Earl of Prescott. The man had placed Cocksley in this parish a decade before but had never once attended services. Now he was a man transformed, appearing every Sunday, paying for countless repairs and innovations, and generally making Cocksley even more nervous.

The glorious sounds of Handel filled the packed nave as the matron of honor started down the aisle. Mrs. Stanhope, the widow of the Earl's youngest son and the future bride of his middle son, was a vision of loveliness in a dress from a past era. But it was a loveliness that paled beside that of Lucy Burton, who followed her on the Earl's arm. She was dressed in the purest of white silks, a dress, he had been told, that the bride had sewn herself with the help, if it could be believed, of only her fiancé.

The wedding was the traditional Anglican ceremony, followed by a reception in the Earl's castle. It was evidently a catered affair, as all of the Earl's staff had been at the church and all were now having a fine time drinking the Earl's punch and eating his beef.

"Mr. Cocksley."

He turned to see the Captain and his fiancée waiting to address him.

"Lord William," he said with a bow. "Madam."

"I wish to know whether it would be quite convenient for you to perform our wedding in a month's time. Would the twenty-fifth of February be suitable?"

"My Lord, I cannot imagine that it would not be," the vicar said. "I owe this living to your father. If the Earl's son wants to marry, I should be more than happy to perform the ceremony. A month, you say?"

"My fiancé apparently needs to show various people in London that he is capable of finding someone willing to marry him," Caroline said.

William smiled.

"I am forced to announce, Mr. Cocksley, that I am no longer available to the many young ladies eager for me to escort them to this or that affair. Having Mrs. Stanhope there will give them a target for their rage."

Caroline rolled her eyes.

"My husband-to-be has always had a way with the ladies, sir. What was that you once called me when I was a guest on your ship, dearest? A young –"

"Excuse us, Mr. Cocksley. I believe my father requires our attendance."

Mr. Cocksley couldn't help but smile as he heard Caroline laugh as she was being led away. He predicted a very successful marriage indeed.

**********

"Darling, you look just as delicious as you did when I had you last year."

"Last year?" Caroline sputtered. "I recall your ‘having' me several times the next morning. Well into the tenth hour of the New Year as I remember it. We would have been quite the scandal if Matthew and Lucy hadn't followed right behind us. And you weren't the heir to the Earldom."

Caroline finished hanging up her wedding dress in the closet. The wedding had been perfect. The Earl had been more than pleased to stand in place of her father and "give" her to his son. After the reception, they had been driven to London for the evening. William's staff had re-opened his London house the day before and had all slipped away as soon as the bride and groom had arrived.

"And now here we are at our house, darling," William said.

"Our house," Caroline said. "Yours and mine."

"And Michael's. We should not leave out the future Earl of Prescott. I did not tell you this before, Caroline, but I . . ."

"Yes?"

"I have taken out papers to adopt your son as my own. With your permission, of course. I will never let him forget who his real father was."

"Oh, William," Caroline said as she felt tears coming to her eyes. "I did not think you could make me any happier today."

William folded his hands behind his head as he lay back on the bed. He had already finished taking off his clothing.

"My intention when we entered the room was to make you as mad with desire as you make me," he said. "But I will accept happy."

"Desire?" Caroline asked.

William blinked. There was a husky quality to her voice that he had never heard before. 

Caroline had had her hair carefully sculpted for the wedding. Reaching up, she pulled a single pin and let her hair tumble down her shoulders. 

"You like it better long, don't you?"

"Yes," he said, his voice a froglike croak.

"And now," Caroline continued, "you would like to see the woman you just made your wife?"

William licked his lips. He watched his wife pull the thin satin slip over her head. Underneath she wore three garments. Two were pink stockings that made his wife's long shapely legs appear to blush at her immodesty. Each was tied several inches above her knee with a black lace garter. On top was Caroline's stays, a silken garment that had the effect of separating and lifting Caroline's already generous breasts, and that ended just below her hips.

"My husband approves?" Caroline asked, wiggling herself slightly from side to side.

"Is that normally that short?" he asked, his voice sounding oddly hoarse. "And isn't it normally worn with a shift underneath?"

"I love an experienced man with an eye for clothing," Caroline purred. "I had this one made just for you, dear husband. I might need help with the tie, don't you think?"

She turned around and William gasped. The cloth tie criss-crossed her back starting just under her shoulder blades, extending down over the small of her back and over her hips, and halfway down her exquisite rear. She moaned her approval as she felt his hands on her, pulling the ends of the knot that Lucy had so carefully tied at the bottom of the opening earlier in the day.

"I believe I can do the rest," Caroline said, stepping away and turning around once more. She reached behind her back, which had the effect of thrusting her chest even further forward. William could hear the tie leaving each eyelet along the way as Caroline pulled the two sides of the fabric apart. He watched the tie fall to the ground behind her, leaving the stays hanging loosely from her shoulders. It hadn't had the least effect on her bosom; her breasts were as firm and full as they had been when the stays had been tightened.

"My love," he said, extending his arm toward her.

Caroline slipped the garment from her shoulders and held it in front of her as she walked slowly toward the bed.

"You want me, husband?" she asked.

"Yes," William groaned.

She glanced down at his prick, already half erect.

"Show me," she said, pulling down one side of the cloth to just above her large pink areola.

"Show you?"

What could she possibly mean?

"Touch yourself, husband."

He slowly extended his arm and wrapped his fingers around his member.

"Pretend you are on your ship," Caroline whispered. "You have been there for months. With only a portrait of your wife to look at. Imagine her thinking of you. Imagine her stripping off her clothing and lying naked on her bed."

Caroline dropped the stays to the floor. William felt his cock swell in his grip.

"She awaits your return," Caroline continued. "She knows that you will touch yourself when you think of her. And you know that she will touch herself as well."

Caroline lifted her right hand to her mouth and slowly sucked the middle finger deep between her full lips. William stared as if hypnotized, his body motionless but for the rhythmic stroking of his fist.

Caroline pulled out her finger with an audible pop and then slowly traced it down her torso. William watched it travel through the valley between her breasts, down to her navel, and then down even further. It was still shiny with her saliva as it entered the trimmed thatch on her mound. And then it reached her clearly visible pink lips. It stayed there a second, vibrating against the top of her lips.

"I want to see you spend, William," Caroline whispered.

He shook his head. It was too much. He had married a wildcat.

"No," he whispered.

"Yes," Caroline said. She used her first and third fingers to pry apart her lips, forcing their swollen pinkness into view.  Her middle finger went between them and as William watched it slowly disappear into her opening, he knew that he had no choice. He felt his prick tighten up. He groaned and watched himself spray white cream all over his stomach.

He looked up at his wife, wondering, in spite of what she had said, what she would think of this exhibition. To his delight, she was laughing.

"I have been very selfish, dearest," she said. "It has been nearly two months since we made love. I wanted to make sure that when we do it tonight you last forever. Trust me."

"I have no choice," William said with a laugh of his own. "I am bewitched."

Caroline's answer was a smile. She climbed onto the bed, and slowly traced the very same middle finger through the semen that had puddled on her husband's stomach. She again returned it to her mouth and this time sucked it clean.

"You are delicious, my love," she said. "Would you like to clean up or shall that be the first of the wifely duties I undertake?"

His cock twitched again and she laughed.

"I thought so," Caroline said. 

She bowed her head and slowly started lapping at the cream-covered skin of the man she loved. It was a long task, requiring considerable attention to the purple head, the ridge that separates it from the long, beautiful root, and the thick forest that surrounded them all. By the time she was finished, her husband stood tall and proud again.

She grabbed hold of it and gave it a gentle tug before she rolled onto her back next to him and spread her legs wide.

"Come, darling," she said. She reached for his hand and pulled it between her legs. "Your wife awaits your pleasure."

He rolled onto his side, and spent a moment tracing her sex with his fingers.

"And her own, I think," he whispered with a quiet chuckle.

Caroline was too busy moaning to answer him. Who would have believed a sailor would have such talented fingers? When he pulled them away, she groaned as if in pain. Only the weight of her husband moving between her thighs stopped her. And then his deliciously swift plunge into her core made her cry with delight. She was only barely aware of her hands encircling his body. Not until later would she learn of the ragged marks that her fingernails had left in his back. 

"Husband," she whispered as he began moving in and out of her. "Darling. Lover."

Her words dissolved into chanted nonsense syllables. Her last sight of him, before her eyes rolled upward toward the ceiling and her eyelids fluttered closed, was of a man at the height of his power, claiming his woman, making her his, taking what she offered and giving everything in return. He was her man. She was his woman.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Caroline and William Stanhope gazed lovingly at each other across the remains of a late breakfast. A cold March rain drummed steadily against the window of the room they had taken. Caroline traced a slender finger down the cream-colored skin visible between the lapels of her dressing gown.

"So what should you like to tour today?" she asked, her eyes sparkling.

"I had always thought that the ‘bridal tour' began with a visit to relatives who were unable to attend the wedding," William said. 

"And it is my belief that it begins with touring the bride as intimately and thoroughly as possible," Caroline answered. "But I may have a second cousin or some such thing here in Bath if you would like to look her up. I'm sure I can entertain myself here."

William laughed.

"I think I would rather that you not discover yourself better at entertaining you than I am. As for the tour, I am most happy to be shown the error of my ways. I cannot imagine, however, that there is any place on my lovely bride that I have not yet visited."

"It is always possible that you might find some new delight on your second or even third visit," Caroline said, her voice dropping lower.

The knock at the door startled them both.

"Yes?" William asked, unable to keep the annoyance from his voice.

"Begging your pardon, sir?" came a timid voice from the other side of the door.

"Yes, Mrs. Delaney?" Caroline asked.

"A messenger, ma'am, for the Captain."

"A messenger?" William asked. "Here?"

"I'm very sorry, sir," a faint male voice said. "I stopped at your house. They sent me on me here."

William rose and opened the door a crack to accept the message.

"It appears we are going to have to postpone the next portion of our trip," he said after reading the message and closing the door.

"No visit to France?" Caroline asked.

"It seems the Emperor has decided to take the waters there as well. He has left Elba and made his way to the mainland. I am required and directed to take command of the Classic in Portsmouth and put myself at the service of Rear Admiral Chester in the Eastern Mediterranean."

"War," Caroline said with a sigh.

"War," William agreed.

"I want you to return to Prescott Manor, my love," William said, "to take care of my father. James has already left for Vienna and may not be able to return immediately. I will be at sea for however long it takes to beat the Emperor back into his hole. You and Michael are Father's only anchorage."

"Of course," Caroline agreed.

"I need not report for three days. It will take some time to fully man the vessel and Jennings – you remember my first, Lieutenant Jennings? – is already in Portsmouth. That will give us time to return you."

**********

"Ship ho!" yelled the lookout.

"Where away, Jennings?" William yelled back.

"Two points to starboard, sir. Flying the old French flag."

"Beat to quarters, Mister Bates. It may well be a Royalist ship, but we can find that out just as easily with our guns manned as without."

"Aye-aye, sir. Beat to quarters!"

"British flag, Mister Kerns. I don't have time to play games today. Where's Matthew?"

"Right here, sir."

"It'll be a good two hours until we come up. Tell the cook I intend to release the starboard watch to eat in half an hour. And tell my own cook that I'll be ready to eat in an hour. Please inform Mr. Carruthers that I would be delighted to have his company."

"Aye-aye." Matthew Cooper acknowledged the order with a knuckle to his forelock.

George Carruthers, a tall, thin civilian with a perpetually saturnine expression on his face, had joined the ship at Gibraltar as an interpreter fluent in several Mediterranean languages. He appeared on deck several minutes later.

"You asked for me, sir?"

"I intended to ask for your company at dinner, sir," William said with a slight bow of his head. "I regret that the message was garbled. No, if this is a Royalist ship, the chances are that they will speak English of a sort. And if it is one of Boney's, the chances are we won't let them get close enough to let us hear them speak anyway."

"Quite," Carruthers said. "Still, if they are Royalists, this will be quite a feather in your cap, eh?"

"Not at all, sir. If they foreswear allegiance to the Emperor I shall merely escort them into a convenient port. There is little credit to be earned there, sir, certainly not compared to the hundreds of tons of new shipping that we have destroyed so far. May I offer you a glass of wine before dinner?"

"You are most kind, Captain. Pray lead on."

With an hour's notice, the captain's private cook was able to prepare an elegant feast. William and his guest dutifully ate their way through one remove after another until Matthew appeared to announce that the approaching ship had fired off a leeward gun.




Cast Adrift - Book 03



"Excuse me, Mr. Carruthers," William said. "I believe that is my cue. We may have visitors with our port."

"There, sir," Matthew said as his captain emerged into the Mediterranean sun and accepted the proffered telescope. "Off the starboard bow. They've backed their sails and manned the decks. Seem a little short-handed though, sir."

"They no doubt want us to understand their friendly attentions. They are lowering down a boat. Prepare to welcome aboard a captain, bos'n."

"Aye-aye, sir." 

The bosun's whistle was followed by the stamp of marines as an honor guard assembled to welcome the French commander aboard.

"Monsieur le capitaine," William said with a deep bow as the small, round man hoisted himself aboard.

"Captain. I am Phillippe de L'Arment. On be'alf of ‘is Majesty's government, I turn over to you the Incroyable.

"Merci, monsieur. Je suis . . ."

"Captain, I speak ze English quite well. But I thank you for your effort."

"Excellent. William Stanhope, sir, at your service. May I offer you some port, Captain? I am afraid you have arrived just after our supper hour, but I hope to have the opportunity to entertain you tomorrow. Is that your entire crew on deck?"

"Oui, Captain. There was a – how you say? – struggle for the ship. Those who follow Bonaparte were eventually evicted, although the cost was ‘igh. Rather than wait for more men, we decided to sail from port with a smaller crew."

"As a representative of His Royal Majesty's navy, I thank you for doing so, sir. Please come with me."

The wind backed into the north overnight and it took the ships three more days to reach Otranto, in the very southeast of Italy. The city and its C-shaped port had once been a duché grand-fief de l'Empire in Napoleon's Kingdom of Naples. It was now simply another port in the firm control of the British Navy.

********** "Pikers," Captain Sir William Stanhope said. "Dragged you out of a game of whist. Found you at your club. Hah! Gentlemen, I was on my bridal tour when the Admiralty's messenger reached me to tell me of Boney's escape." The three post-captains with whom he sat at a quayside trattoria two nights later were all senior to him, each of them with well over the three years of seniority that William would need before he could add the second epaulette to his uniform. They were all friends, however, and all comfortably bore his good-natured teasing. "I believe Samuel Johnson referred to it as the honeymoon," Captain Farquhar said. "‘The first month after marriage, when there is nothing but tenderness and pleasure.'" "In my case it was barely a quarter of a moon with my honey," William said. "We were married on the twenty-fifth. Boney bolted on the twenty-sixth. Thank God it took some time for the news to reach England." "I didn't know you had married," Captain Adams said, extending his hand. "Congratulations, young fellow." "Thank you, sir," William said as they shook hands. Captain Adams was the most senior of the three men with whom he was drinking.  "One of those extraordinarily attractive young women that were always hanging on you in London?" Captain Carter asked. "This young dog, friends, always seemed to have two or three women vying for the next dance. "No, sir." William blushed. "My brother's widow. Lady Caroline Stanhope." "Not the Lioness?" Adams asked. "Yes, sir." "The Lioness?" Farquhar asked. "You was in the Caribbean then, Farquhar," Adams said. "She is the woman who saved our friend's bacon here when he tried to take L'Empereur. I saw her at St. James with you. An exceptionally beautiful woman. And she killed two Frenchies herself, didn't she?" "One, sir. Nursed the other back to health." "So she knows something of the naval life then, eh?" asked Carter. "She does," William acknowledged. "Not all of it favorable, though. She and Geoffrey were married for less than a fortnight when his ship had to put to sea. He died before he could return home. So you can only imagine how worried she is about me, having left her in nearly identical circumstances." "Surely you have heard from her since you left," Farquhar said. "We have been out here for three months now." "Yes, of course," William said with a smile. Her letters were perhaps unlike those received by any other officer in His Majesty's navy. Her first letter had informed him that she had decided to leave her funds invested with Charles Langhorne, a former naval officer whose success in steam propulsion was causing consternation throughout the older hands at the Admiralty. It was a businesslike letter and William was particularly delighted that she had nowhere asked him for his advice. Her second letter, informing him of his father's death from the long-term effects of the blow to his temple during the robbery on New Year's Eve, was much more emotional. She told of how Michael had held the Earl's hand during his last evening and how he had refused to die until Caroline forgave him for all that he had done. When she demurred, telling him that there was nothing to forgive, he had grown agitated. She had finally granted his request and the old man had died with a smile on his face. Her most recent letter had asked that, if his journeys took him anywhere near Otranto, the very port in which he now sat, he obtain a drawing of the castle and perhaps another of the entire port. Walpole's The Castle of Otranto was one of her favorite books. She would love to get a better idea of its setting. All three of the letters had contained the usual appeals that he take care of himself, that he take no unnecessary risks, and that he not try to beat Napoleon all by himself. All three contained Lucy's love for Matthew. All three expressed the wish that this war would end soon, and end forever. But all three shone with his wife's intelligence, her sense of humour, and her compassion. Sir William – Lord Stanhope now in truth, although he had told none of the other post-captains that – looked out across the water, lost in thought. "Lord Stanhope!"

The four captains looked up to see another of their fraternity approaching.  "Captain," William acknowledged. "I took the liberty of calling on Lady Stanhope before I was sent out," the newcomer said. "She gave me a letter for you." "Thank you, sir. You see how worried she is, gentlemen. She sends young Torrington here to check up on me. Excuse me a moment." "It is you, Torrington," Captain Carter said. "One of my former mids, gentlemen. What desperate straits the navy must be in now." Carter laughed to remove the sting from his jest and invited Captain Torrington to take a chair and wet the swab while William read his letter. Dearest: This will be a short letter as I have no wish to allow this odious man to occupy a seat in our parlor any longer than etiquette requires. He tells me he is to have your ship. If he is correct, please convey my sympathy and concern to your crew.  Hurry home, darling. Lucy sends her dearest love to Matthew. William smiled and put the letter into an inner pocket of his coat. The other men were all looking at him. "She's nearly prostrate with anxiety," he said. "She says you are to have the Classic, Captain Torrington." Torrington blushed. Allowing one's predecessor to learn that he had been relieved by anything other than an official communication was bad manners indeed. "I may have intimated, my Lord, my understandable pride in being given command of a vessel with such a well-deserved reputation as yours." The other captains rolled their eyes. More likely he had simply been boasting to an attractive woman. "My orders, sir?" Lord Stanhope held out his hand and Torrington handed him yet another letter. "Yes, yes, yes," William said, scanning the formalities until he reached the letter's most important sentence. "Ah, here we are. Directed to return to Gibraltar, there to take command of His Majesty's Ship Fortissimus." "Fortissimus!" Captain Adams banged his fist on the table, his face wreathed in broad smile. "Is there no end to your luck?" "I have not heard of her," William said. "A new 48-gun frigate, built to match the American's larger ships. A sweet sailer from what I've been told." "Well, gentlemen, it seems she will meet me at the Gib. In the meantime, to Captain Torrington!" "To Captain Torrington," they all echoed, raising their glasses. "May the Classic be as lucky for him as she has been for me." "Hear, hear." "Thank you, Sir William," Captain Torrington said with a flush. "Captain, sir." William looked up to see Matthew Cooper standing a respectful distance behind Captain Adams, a puzzled expression on his face. "Matthew, we are to have a new ship," William said with a smile. "Aye, sir," Matthew said. "Is something wrong, Matthew? You're hovering like a worried hen." "It's them Frenchies, sir." "The Incroyable?" "Aye, sir. They've been leaving their ship." "Leaving?" "Aye, sir. Boats have been slipping out all night. Which me and the purser's been watching ‘em from the dock." "Instead of finding a tavern?" Adams roared with laughter. "What sort of men do you have on that ship of yours, Stanhope?" "Observant ones, sir," William said quietly as he stood up. "We've been tricked. Launch's crew, Matthew. Three minutes." "A trick?" Carter asked. "Why would a crew of Royalists desert a ship in the middle of a crowded harbor, gentlemen?" William asked. "They're Frenchies," Farquhar said with a shrug.  He looked around to his fellow captains but only the newly minted Torrington rewarded his wit with a laugh. Carter still looked puzzled. Captain Adams, however, was staring at William with considerable alarm. His ship, the 75-gun Audacious, was the closest to the Incroyable. "They would not, of course," he said. "But a crew of Boney's men . . ." "Exactly, sir. I was responsible for bringing the ship into the harbor. I must now see it out. Excuse me, gentlemen." "Launch's crew reports ready, sir," Matthew yelled from the quay. William took off at a run and leapt into the boat as his coxswain was untying its rope. "You understand what's happening, Matthew?" "Aye, sir. That French ship is being set to blow, sir." "You're already a step ahead of three post-captains, Matthew. We may make sailors out of them yet. Now row, men, row! The sooner we get on her, the sooner we can get off." They reached the French ship within five minutes and swarmed up the sides, surprising those few Frenchmen who had yet to desert the ship. They included Captain de L'Arment, who now found himself at the end of William's pistol. "You are too late, Monsieur," he said with a snarl. "In ‘alf an ‘our your fleet, she will be gone." "Half an hour, thank you, sir. How kind of you to use slow-match." "The magazine will never be opened in that time." "I don't doubt it," William said. "Now Matthew, get this lot over the side." "And let them escape, sir?" Matthew Cooper was outraged. "I'm sure the other captains won't let them get far, Matthew. And I have no men to devote to their imprisonment. The mainsail, men! Get ready to let her down! Are they away, Matthew?" "Aye-aye, sir." "Let slip the anchor, then. We haven't the time to weigh it. We need to get underway. Thank God the breeze is seaward tonight." Matthew hustled off to rid the vessel of its anchor while William dashed down the ladder to make sure that the Frenchmen hadn't left some opening to the magazine. He returned several minutes later and gave orders to unfurl the mainsail. Two more sails followed and the men returned to the deck. William ran to the wheel as he felt the ship lurch beneath him. It slowly began to pick up the wind. William pulled out his watch. "Fifteen minutes left, Matthew. The men back in the launch." "Aye-aye, sir." "Take them as far a leeward as you can. Head for the shore." "Me, sir? You want me to leave?" William glanced over at his coxswain. "It is suicide to stay here, Matthew. Someone needs to take them home." "But you, sir . . . And Lady Stanhope. I can't . . ." "You can, Matthew. You must. Tell her I love her. Take her the papers from my cabin. Now go. That's an order." "Aye, sir." "Oh and Matthew?" "Sir." "I love you too, Matthew." "And I, sir." "Now go." He looked back twice. The first time, the ship was still threading its way out of the other boats, both large and small. The second time he could barely make it out as it approached the southern arm of the harbor, headed toward the open sea. The first two explosions were small. Squinting, Matthew thought he could make out his captain on the foredeck in the light of the fire caused by the first. But then the second explosion set the aft part of the ship aflame. And the third, no less than thirty seconds later, blew the ship apart. ********** "With respect, sir," Lieutenant Jennings, first of the Classic, told his new captain. "The men insist that we must continue the search." "They insist, do thy?" Captain Torrington asked, a muscle below his eye furiously twitching. "Perhaps they did not hear me read myself in these five days past." "No, sir, they understand that you are the captain. But they request that I point out, sir, that after Lord Stanhope was lost, we lost three days to a storm. And that we have thus only actually searched for two days. Neither of which have taken us far from the harbor." "And is this your opinion as well, Mr. Jennings?" Torrington asked, nearly spitting the words. "I remind you, sir, that I am under orders to return this ship to the Gib." "No, sir," Jennings said. "I am yours to command, sir.  But I fear the men are not mine to command. Perhaps, sir, you could order the ship back to sea, and on the way search the coast south of here." "Perhaps I could do that," Torrington agreed. "And the opposite coast, sir, across the Strait?" A frown spread over Torrington's young face again. "Lieutenant," he said gently, "I understand their love for Captain Stanhope. But the wind has been out of the Northwest for the past three days, ever since the explosion. He could not possibly have floated due east. And the men do not seriously propose that he could have survived all the way to Corfu, do they, or even further south?"  "No, sir," Jennings said, biting his lip and shaking his head. "But a search, sir, even a perfunctory one, would endear you to the men." "Very well," Torrington said with a sigh. "Make it so, Mr. Jennings." "Aye-aye, sir." The men of the Classic took to the shrouds during every free moment they had, but failed to see any sign of Captain Lord Stanhope on the coast of Italy or the coast of Macedonia, or on the northern Ionian Islands. It was a morose ship that approached the British fortress at Gibraltar after a slow voyage up a surprisingly calm Med. "Our signal, sir," said the senior midshipman as they drew nearer. "P – E – A – S – E. Pease, sir. Pease pudding, maybe? Perhaps an invitation to dinner?" Captain Torrington and his mid heard a snort from Matthew Cooper. "You have a comment, Mr. Cooper?" the captain asked. "Peace, sir. They're signaling it's peace." "Peace?" Captain Torrington had never been good at reading signals. "Aye, sir," Cooper said. A cheer had already started to go around the ship. "Peace."

CHAPTER TWELVE

Caroline stirred sleepily in the luxurious sheets of her London home. Pushing her hips backward, she felt something between the two cheeks of her shapely rear end.

"Mmmmm," she purred, grinding herself against it. Looking back over her shoulder, she realized that she would have to take care of herself this morning; he was sleeping like a log.

That was fine, too, she thought to herself. She tugged on her nightgown until it was bunched above her waist. The man behind her was already naked and, she discovered upon reaching through her thighs, already aroused.  Wrapping her slender fingers around his organ, she bent it forward to allow her to slide it between her legs.

"Oh, darling," she whispered. She loved the way it felt just plowing back and forth along her furrow. With one finger vibrating against her clit, she used the fingers of her other hand to align the cock with her opening.

"Fuck me, darling," she whispered, using language that she had no intention of ever letting her husband hear. "Fuck me."

She felt her internal muscles massaging the prick that filled her core, matching the rhythm of the finger that pulsed, slowly at first and then with increasing speed, against her stiffened clit.

"Oh, oh, oh," she squeaked, her voice a barely audible soprano as she felt her climax break over her like the waves of the sea. She lay there, her body trembling, until she felt it subside.

"Thank you, lover," she whispered with a giggle to her still sleeping bedmate.

A knock at the door interrupted her. She quickly disentangled herself and put on a dressing gown.

"Yes?" she said, opening the door a crack.

"Captain Torrington to see you, ma'am, and the crew of the Classic."

"The entire crew?" Caroline asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Is Mrs. Cooper about?"

"Not yet, ma'am," the girl said.

"Wake her up, then. Tell her of our visitors. And please tell them I will be down as soon as possible."

"Yes'm."

Caroline dressed hurriedly and with a last glance at the sleeping figure on the bed she descended the stairs to find out what such a large party meant.

She opened the door to find a solid mass of sailors. There were hundreds of them, all dressed in dark pants and shirts – dark uniforms for the officers – and all of them with particularly grim expressions on their faces.

"Captain Torrington, I give you joy of the peace. Won't you come inside? And you, Matthew? Lucy will be down any moment."

"Madam," Torrington answered, removing his hat and swallowing hard, "the men have asked me to allow Mr. Cooper to speak on their behalf."

Caroline turned to Matthew, puzzled by the absence of his usual good cheer.

"Lady Stan'ope," Matthew said with a deep, formal bow. "On behalf of the Classic, I am extremely sorry to have to tell you of the death of Captain Stan'ope."

"The death?" Caroline asked. She took a step backward, her hand on her breast.

"Perhaps we should go inside, Mr. Cooper," Captain Torrington murmured, "and talk to Lady Stanhope in private."

"Aye-aye, sir."

"Oh, no, no," Caroline insisted resolutely. "I will not separate you from these men."

"Very well, madam," Torrington said in a faltering voice.

"The captain asked that I give you this, madam," Matthew said.

He handed over a packet.

"It is a tradition, madam," Torrington explained, "to have a letter for one's wife in case one, er . . ."

"Just so, sir," Caroline said. 

She pulled the letter from the packet and tore open the envelope.

"Perhaps you would like to read it in private," Torrington said.

"Heavens, no. I'm sure all the men would like to hear my husband's letter."

Caroline gave the ranks of somber seaman a brave smile before returning her attention to the letter.

"‘My dearest: If you are reading this letter, I will not be returning. I hope that I have died an honourable death and that you will be as proud of me as you were of my dear brother Geoffrey.'

"I do seem to be bad luck for the Stanhopes, don't I, Captain?" she said in an aside to a horrified Torrington. "‘No matter the manner of my death, however, you must know that I died with a heart filled with love for you and with your name on my lips.' Still, it didn't stop him from cutting short our bridal tour, did it? I'm surprised not to find that nonsense about him not loving me so much loved he not honour more."

She cast a covert glance at Captain Torrington and his widened eyes before continuing.

"Ah, here's the part. ‘To the extent that my gallant crew survives me, I would ask you use such fortune as I possess to make them comfortable. I have never served with a finer group of men and would be proud to call the lowest lubber among them my friend."




Cast Adrift - Book 03



She heard the door open behind her. The emotions that the crew were holding in check changed in an instant. Caroline smiled as she heard the collective gasp.

"What's going on?" a voice from behind her asked.

Caroline turned, taking in the ridiculously luxurious dressing gown that her husband was wearing.

"I'm reading your letter, darling. The one where you have me distribute your fortune among your men."

"What letter?" Lord William Stanhope asked. He stepped forward and snatched it from her hand. "But I'm not dead."

"Captain Torrington believes you dead," Caroline said with a nod at the captain of the Classic, who had turned quite pale. "Matthew Cooper believes you dead. And I'm quite certain that the lowest lubber among the crew is rather disappointed that you're not."

She rounded on her husband in mock fury.

"You told me that you had left word for them!"

"I did!" William protested. "With every ship we met on the way home; at Gibraltar; and at the Admiralty."

"We spoke no ships in the Med after our search for you, sir," Matthew said. "We didn't stop at the Gib nor at the Admiralty. Is it really you, sir?"

"Of course it's me, Matthew."

"But how?" Torrington asked.

"Yes, do tell them of the hardships you encountered, darling." 

Caroline's teasing earned her a scowl that made her laugh aloud.

"Matthew!"

The door opened again and Lucy Cooper leapt onto her still stunned husband. Matthew stood stock still, flushing a deep red.

"Lucy," he murmured. "The crew."

"Shall I embrace one of them instead?" Lucy asked saucily. "You seem quite uninterested."

"You must give him time, Lucy," Caroline said. "He has believed my husband dead for the past three weeks."

"Dead?" Lucy asked. "But he has been here for a week."

"A week?" Torrington asked. "But how . . ."

"Come in, Captain Torrington," William said. "You too, Matthew. And you as well, Mister Jennings. Perhaps you can transmit my explanation to the men when we are done."

All three of them, along with Caroline, William, and Lucy, were sitting in the parlor minutes later drinking tea.

"Tell us now, sir," Lieutenant Jennings urged. "We looked everywhere for you."

"Within reason," Torrington said.

"He was nowhere reasonable at all," Caroline interjected. "He was washed ashore on an island populated nearly entirely with young Greek women."

"It was a festival," William reminded his wife for what seemed the twentieth time.

"Naked young Greek women," Caroline added.

"But how were you washed that far at all, sir?" Matthew asked.

"The first explosion, Matthew, blew that gig off the foredeck. The second explosion actually blew me off as well, directly into the gig. Knocked me out, in fact. Which is where I was, lying in the bottom of the gig, when the third explosion took place. But I imagine that it was the sides of that gig that saved me from the shock waves of the explosion. And certainly from the flaming debris. So I take it the Classic escaped unscathed?"

"A few minor fires, sir," Torrington said. "None of the ships in the harbor suffered any significant damage."

"Excellent. To continue, however, I awoke in the midst of that storm as it blew me further and further to the southeast. As my darling notes, I came ashore on a Greek island. An island with a sort of naked bacchanalia. I was rescued two days later –" 


"Two days later," Caroline said with mock disgust and a shake of her head.

"Two days later by the Hart," William continued with a blush. "We had an exceptional passage across the Med. By the time I reached Gibraltar, Wellington had beaten Boney at the Battle of Waterloo. So I brought my intended ship straight home. Truly I am sorry for your troubles, gentlemen. I did try to leave word as often as I could."

"It is good to see you alive, sir," Jennings said reverently. "If you'll excuse me, sir, I'll let the men know."

"I too shall take my leave," Captain Torrington said. "Perhaps with you restored to life, I shall finally be able to exercise some control over my own crew. Instead of following their suggestions. It was their insistence, of course, that we had not the time to even stop at the Admiralty, but must proceed directly here to inform Lady Stanhope of her misfortune."

"Captain Torrington, that was a dear thing to do," Caroline said softly. "And I shall ever be grateful to you for it. There was no way for you to know that I had already been living with my misfortune for the past week."

**********

A month later, Lord and Lady Stanhope made their only social appearance of the summer season. It was a soiree for the heroes of what had come to be called the "Hundred Days," a period that had ended with Napoleon's banishment – imprisonment this time – on the much more remote island of St. Helena.

It was an occasion for renewing old acquaintances. Jane Arbuthnot and Katherine Packenham eagerly sought inclusion in the Stanhopes' circle. After all, they reasoned, hadn't they taken Caroline under their wings several years back when she was a friendless naval widow? Could not her current glory, both that reflected from her new husband and that she seemed to emit on her own, be traced back to them?

Resplendent in a beautiful new gown, her thighs still sticky from the attentions her husband had paid them while she was busy getting herself into it, Caroline smiled to herself as she let them have their triumph. Still, she could not help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at the open-mouthed gapes on their faces as the Duke of Wellington approached to embrace her. Her introduction produced such deep curtsies on the part of both women as to make her fear for their balance.

Finally, however, after the Duke had wandered off following a lingering kiss of Caroline's hand, she excused herself to go find her husband. He was deep in conversation with a civilian whose round smiling face seemed at odds with the obvious intelligence that shown from his eyes. William was laughing and shaking his head.

"Ah, here is my savior," he said, beckoning Caroline to join them. "Mister Barrow, may I present my wife, Caroline? Mr. Barrow, Caroline, is the Second Secretary of the Admiralty. He proposes to send me to sea again."

Caroline frowned.

"Apparently Mr. Barrow has no wish to become the First Secretary," she said sternly.

"My apologies, Lady Stanhope," Barrow said with a bow. "I am specifically ordered by the First Lord to discuss this question with your husband."

"What question is that?" a voice asked behind William and Caroline.

Caroline recognized it immediately.

"James!" she exclaimed. "You have returned just in time. You must protect me from this brutish second secretary who proposes dragging my wandering husband to sea once again."

"What should I do, my dear?" James asked.

"Challenge him to a duel, of course," she said with a laugh.

"Pens at twenty paces?" James asked. "Government would frown on one of its secretaries killing another one. James Stanhope, sir, at your service."

"John Barrow, sir, at yours."

Caroline rolled her eyes as she watched the two men exchanged a significant glance. James had only recently ended his entanglement with his former companion. Now he was giving this new gentleman almost the same look that she could see the Duke of Wellington giving a delighted Katherine Packenham some fifty feet across the room.

"I have already informed him, dearest," William said, "that I am committed to accepting the orders of my wife for the foreseeable future, dearest, and that I am in no position at the moment to accept a command."

"A command of what, for heaven's sake?" Caroline asked. "The war is over. Captains with more seniority than you are littering the beach already, you tell me."

"It would have been a mere sloop, dear, along with a steamship of some sort."

"A steamship?" 

Caroline could not keep the interest from her voice.

"From Mr. Langhorne's yard," Barrow added.

"Mr. Langhorne?" Caroline asked.

"My wife was one of Mr. Langhorne's first investors, Mr. Barrow," William said.

"Indeed?" Barrow asked. "I congratulate you on your omniscience, Lady Stanhope. Few would have predicted such success even six months ago."

"It is difficult for me to believe that their Lordships are willing to leave the age of sail," Caroline said.

"It was difficult for me to obtain their agreement, Lady Stanhope. In this case, however, sail would prove far less practicable than steam."

"And where is this command?"

"Speaking as an interested investor, of course, not as the wife of a potential commander," William said, sharing a laugh with his brother.

"Hush, darling. I am speaking with the Second Secretary."

"The River Quorra, my Lady. We propose sending three expeditions to Africa. One under the auspices of the Foreign Office proceeding overland from Freetown, in Sierra Leone. Another to travel up the Congo, seeking to learn whether the Congo and the Niger are in fact the same river. And the third to travel up the Quorra, whose delta lies between the two. It is proposed that both of the last two expeditions employ steam power in order to enter the rivers during the heights of their seasonal flood."

William decided that he needed to temper Barrow's enthusiasm.

"Mr. Barrow leaves out, of course, that the Quorra delta is a series of swamps and tributaries stretching for hundreds of miles. That particular steamship may never find the river."

"Still, what fun!" Caroline exclaimed with a delighted clap of her hands.

"I beg your pardon?" William asked, his face frozen in the midst of his smirk.

"I said, ‘what fun,'" Caroline repeated. "Adventure, exploration, discovery. Just like Mr. Cook and Mr. Park."

"Perhaps I have been asking the wrong Stanhope," Barrow said hopefully.

"Little do I know of sailing an ordinary ship, let alone a steamship," Caroline said with a laugh. "Other than the command, "Hard a-starboard" and the expression "lubber," of course."

She gave her husband a mischievous look to remind him yet again that he had once called his wife a whoreson lubber. William could always be relied upon to turn a bright crimson.

"Nevertheless," Barrow said, "perhaps I should enlist you as an ally, Lady Stanhope."

"Perhaps you should, Mr. Barrow."

"After all, his Lordship states that he is at your beck and call."

"Caroline," William said, "you can't seriously propose that we part again so soon."

"Don't whine, dear," Caroline said. "I propose nothing of the kind. This expedition will take some time to prepare, will it not, Mr. Barrow?"

He nodded his agreement.

"So we're really discussing the flood that will occur next September, are we not, in 1816?"

"We are," Mr. Barrow said with no little delight.

"One must really be careful of marrying too well, brother," James said, earning himself a glare from William. "Or at least too well-read."

"By then Michael will be three, a perfect age to travel, at least to Madeira if not to Freetown itself. Which you can make the base of your voyages. Lucy will come with me, of course."

William stared at his wife, at the Second Secretary, and at his wife again. Finally he looked at his brother.

"Apparently my participation was not needed," he said with a shake of his head.

"It never is, darling."

Caroline patted him on the cheek.

"It's always welcome, of course. But it's never needed. Perhaps you would join us for dinner, Mr. Barrow, this coming Thursday?"

"I shall be delighted," Barrow said, smiling like a schoolboy.

"You shall come too, James," Caroline said.

Her brother simply nodded.

"And me?" William asked.

"Certainly," Caroline said. "You may bring the wine. Speaking of which . . ."

A passing waiter was carrying a tray of wine glasses and Caroline eagerly seized one for each of the party.

"To the future, gentlemen," she said as the men joined her in raising a glass. "And may it prosper all of us."