Playing with Fire Read online

  Tansy did all she could to hide her feelings, thinking it would help to bring the heartbreak more quickly to an end. She tried to tell herself that any man foolish enough to fall for Amanda was simply not worth bothering about, but it was one thing to think this, quite another to act upon it. First Lieutenant Martin Ballard was worth it. He was worth everything, everything in the world….

  She was determined not to think about him as she gazed at the swirling vapor that now enveloped everything. The land was lost from view, but visibility had been good until the bank of fog rolled in so suddenly. Sir Julian’s Egyptian-style house overlooking the bay had reminded her so forcibly of Tel el-Osorkon that she felt an almost childish urge to rub her eyes and pinch herself to be sure of not dreaming. On the hilltop behind the house, piercing the skyline like a huge arrowhead, was the pyramid Martin had mentioned. It was a very dramatic sight. Everything about Chelworth was dramatic, and very, very beautiful.

  Two teams of seamen had been alerted to lower the ship’s launch, which had been loaded with the sea chests and the first consignment of antiquities, including the intriguing slab of basalt. Martin was to be placed aboard on a stretcher before the launch was swung overboard, because he was far too frail to manage the rope ladder that everyone else would use.

  Tansy heard voices and footsteps coming on deck from the wardroom, and turned to see two men carefully carrying Martin up from his cabin on the stretcher. His face was ashen and sculptured, seeming almost beautiful in its fragility, and his eyes were sunken and set in shadows. There was still a bandage around his forehead, he remained desperately weak, and he was much thinner, but at least he no longer slipped in and out of consciousness. He wore his uniform beneath a heavy naval greatcoat that hung against his body because he had lost so much weight. His tricorn hat rested beside him.

  The launch still wasn’t quite ready, so the stretcher was laid carefully on the deck. Tansy saw how his hands trembled just from the effort of having been dressed. She wanted to go to him and put her arms around him, to make him believe he would get better, but she knew that was not possible. Besides, Amanda was ever vigilant.

  In a rustle of costly cloak, her golden hair shining in the peculiar morning light, Tansy’s spiteful cousin rushed to kneel beside the stretcher. Her lovely face was so saintly with concern as she clasped his hand and gazed down into his eyes, that Tansy had to look away. Please let him see how false it all was!

  Cleo stirred suddenly in Tansy’s arms. The cat had been staring toward the land, her ears pricked and alert as she heard a sound that was too faint for humans. A cat was calling, an uncanny, wavering cry that gradually became louder until everyone on the frigate could hear. The crew exchanged uneasy, superstitious glances, and even Tansy shuddered, but then Cleo responded. The tabby threw back her head and gave vent to an earsplitting yowl that made everyone start, especially Amanda, who jumped so much that with a squeal she lost her balance and toppled backward on the newly scrubbed deck. Her legs and petticoats were revealed to all and sundry, and the two sailors looking after Martin stepped hastily forward to assist her up again. It was all very undignified, and it quite ruined the image Amanda had conjured a moment or so before. Her face flushed crimson with mortification as she angrily shook herself from the sailors’ attentive hands and then made a silly fuss about straightening her clothes.

  Tansy was secretly overjoyed and had to keep her head bowed to hide the broad grin that now lit her face. There was some justice after all! She could sense Hermione’s concealed mirth, although the chaperone was careful to keep her back toward her difficult charge. What Martin thought was anyone’s guess, for his face gave nothing away at all, but Tansy imagined he was filled with heartfelt sympathy for poor, sweet, kind, adorable Amanda.

  Mr. Pettigrew deemed the launch to be ready and Martin’s stretcher was lifted into it. As soon as this had been accomplished, the order was given for the teams of seamen to haul upon their ropes. Another chantey was required as they slowly winched the heavy boat over the frigate’s gunwales, and then down to the smooth, gleaming water. The oarsmen swarmed down the rope ladder to take their places.

  Tansy bent to put Cleo in the box, then closed the lid securely before allowing another seaman to take it down to the launch. Then she followed Amanda and Hermione to the ladder. Amanda, of course, made a great noise about having to clamber down something so precarious, nor did she like it that a common rating was assigned to assist her. She thought she should have had an officer at the very least, so she demanded to know why she too could not have gone in the launch. In vain did Mr. Pettigrew point out that it was always a risky business to have people in a boat that was being launched, and Captain Castleton was very set against it unless in exceptional circumstances. Martin’s injuries necessitated special consideration, but when the sea was as flat as a baby’s bath, a rope ladder was perfectly safe for everyone else, including ladies.

  Amanda was not best pleased by the insultingly patient manner the boatswain adopted for his explanation, and she would have complained to the captain, except she knew Mr. Pettigrew had been too subtle for her to harbor any real hope of having him punished. As she stood in the swaying launch, debating whether or not to say anything more, her annoyance was heightened when the boatswain made a point of personally assisting Tansy and Hermione. How dared the others receive help from him, while the future Lady Sanderby only warranted the lowest ranking seaman of all!

  So, just to be difficult, she sat down in the first available place in the launch, thus obliging Tansy and Hermione to clamber around her. Only when it was too late did she realize that this display of petulance meant that Tansy was able to sit next to Martin. So Amanda seethed silently, her back straight as a ramrod, her chin raised.

  Martin smiled at Tansy. “I trust you will forgive me if I do not get up to greet you, as a gentleman should?”

  “Of course I forgive you, Lieutenant,” she replied, then shifted awkwardly as the figurine dug into her a little.

  “Is something wrong?” Martin asked.

  “No, just uncomfortable,” she answered, taking out the figurine to show him.

  “Is it part of the booty?”

  “No, it’s what Amanda tripped on.” She told him about the incident. “I rather like it, so I’ve kept it ever since,” she finished.

  He reached up to touch the cold bronze, and then they both gasped as a searing heat seemed to pass through it. Tansy’s fingers burned so much she almost dropped it, but then the heat seemed to settle to a comforting warmth. At least, it did to Martin; to Tansy the bronze was suddenly quite cold again, as she observed to him. “I really don’t understand why the bronze gets hot and then cold. It’s very odd.”

  “Cold?” He touched it again, and felt its warmth stream into his fingers.

  “Yes.” She regarded him. “Well, it’s cold now, isn’t it?”

  “No, it’s very pleasantly warm; in fact it feels good. Almost restorative.”

  “Really?” Quickly she pressed it into his hands. “Then you must have it. No, I insist, Lieutenant. Please keep it.”

  Nothing more was said as the ropes were cast off and the launch pushed away from the ship. Soon the only sound was the gentle splash of the water and the rumble of the oarlocks. But as the launch glided through the fog toward the shore, Martin felt noticeably stronger than he had only minutes before. The heat from the figurine seemed to fill him, and the tiredness he felt now was more a comfortable need to sleep than the enervating lack of strength that had beset him before. And he had the most uncanny feeling that the figurine was vibrating slightly, for all the world as if it were purring….

  * * * *

  When Ozzy first started to call out on the terrace, the noise brought Sir Julian quickly out to see what was wrong. He found Ozzy again seated at the top of the steps, staring toward the fog-swathed bay. The tomcat had taken to sitting there recently, gazing out to sea as if waiting for something.

  “What is it, old chap?” Sir Ju
lian murmured, bending to stroke his pet. Then he straightened sharply as Cleo’s loud answering yowl carried up through the fog, closely followed by a woman’s squeal. Little realizing that the last was only Amanda sprawling unbecomingly on the deck of the Lucina, Sir Julian gasped. “Good heavens, is murder being done?”

  Ozzy’s ears twitched, and he looked up at his master as if to chide him for being so foolish.

  Sir Julian gazed down the hillside, and then thought he heard something. Yes, he could hear men singing as they lowered a boat from a larger vessel. Alarmed, he wondered if some particularly impudent smugglers were making use of the fog, or worse, if the French invasion had commenced at last! But then he realized that the chantey was not only very British, but was one associated with the Royal Navy. Curiosity got the better of him. “Come on, Ozymandias, let’s go down to investigate!” he declared, and set off down the steps.

  Ozzy got up to stretch, then yawned and followed.

  Chapter 19

  Sir Julian could hear the steady rhythm of oars as he reached the beach, and he strained to see through the fog. Ozzy sat at his side, his ears pricked attentively. At last a ghostly silhouette emerged, at first a pale indistinct gray, but gradually becoming more clear until both Sir Julian and the cat could see every detail of the naval launch as it glided toward them.

  The man standing at the stern saw the figure on the beach and called a challenge. “This is Uriah Pettigrew, boatswain of His Majesty’s frigate Lucina. Identify yourself!” he called.

  Sir Julian was taken aback. Identify himself on his own property? He’d be damned if he would!

  “Your name, sir?” Mr. Pettigrew prompted.

  “Sir Julian Richardson, owner of this land!” Sir Julian replied irritably.

  Amanda stood up and waved excitedly, making the launch roll from side to side. “Uncle Julian? Oh, Uncle, it’s me, Amanda!” she cried.

  “Amanda?” Sir Julian’s jaw dropped, for he had been awaiting word of his nieces’ whereabouts, and had expected to send his traveling carriage to collect them from one of the ports. Instead the navy had brought them to his very door! And they seemed to have sufficient baggage with them to provide for half a dozen women, he thought, observing the crates that were piled on the boat.

  The seamen shipped the oars as the launch slid onto the sand; then some of them leaped out to haul the craft clear of the water. As they then prepared to help the three women, Mr. Pettigrew jumped down and strode toward Sir Julian. He was passed in the other direction by Ozzy, who rushed toward the launch with almost indecent haste. The tomcat was mewing excitedly, and his calls were being answered with equal excitement from Tansy’s box.

  The boatswain reached Sir Julian. “Good morning to you, sir. This is indeed a happy coincidence, for you are the very gentleman we seek.”

  “So it would seem. So it would seem,” Sir Julian murmured, looking past him at the launch, where Tansy and her box were now on dry land again. Amanda was being lifted out to join her, and then a third woman, older, and presumably the chaperone Franklyn mentioned in his letter.

  Sir Julian could not help noticing how akin Tansy’s cloak was to the chaperone’s. Both garments were practical, plain, and clearly not expensive, whereas Amanda’s was richly decorated and had clearly cost a considerable sum. He could not help reflecting that his fears about the place Tansy would occupy in Franklyn’s household had been justified. Tansy was, and had no doubt been made to feel, the poor relation, but the shy smile she directed toward him now was a world away from the sulky pout on Amanda’s lips. Sir Julian knew which niece he was drawn to, and it certainly was not the countess-to-be!

  But then his attention was snatched by the very odd sight of Ozzy scuttling up and down beside Tansy’s box like a thing demented. What in the world was the matter with the old ginger fool? The answer was forthcoming almost immediately, as another loud meow issued from the box. Ah, thought Sir Julian sagely, spring was in the air, and female feline company to hand.

  Mr. Pettigrew spoke again. “I have an injured officer who is to be put ashore here, sir. He was shot while rescuing your nieces, and they wish him to recuperate at Chelworth instead of Portsmouth.”

  “Injured officer? Rescuing my nieces?” The import of the words was borne in on Sir Julian. “Rescuing them? Oh, good heavens…. What happened?”

  “They will no doubt tell you all about it, sir. Suffice it that they are now safe, thanks to First Lieutenant Martin Ballard.”

  “Well, if he saved my nieces, then of course he is more than welcome at Chelworth.”

  “Thank you, sir. Thank you kindly.” Mr. Pettigrew saw that Sir Julian’s attention kept wandering past him, and he turned to look as well. Ozzy was hardly able to wait for Tansy to open the tantalizing box. He danced around on tiptoe, ears pricked, tail so high a flag could have been hoisted upon it. The boatswain watched in surprise. “Well, will you look at that. He’s ready to make Miss Tansy’s tabby more than welcome!”

  “So it would seem, Mr. Pettigrew. It’s most out of character. Where strange cats are concerned, Ozymandias is—”

  “Ozy-what, sir?”

  “Ozymandias. It’s another name for Ramses the Great, an Egyptian king.”

  “Oh, I see, sir.” Mr. Pettigrew thought it a ridiculous name for an ordinary ginger tomcat.

  “Ozzy is usually at the ready to see strangers off his territory; this time, however, he’s clearly delighted,” Sir Julian went on.

  “Well, Cleo is as shipshape a little she-cat as I’ve ever come across. By the way, Cleo is short for Cleopatra, the—”

  “Egyptian queen? Yes, I did know that,” Sir Julian replied, watching as Tansy at last opened the box. Cleo looked out cautiously, saw Ozzy, and jumped out to him. They touched noses and rubbed around each other like old friends; then they dashed away up the hillside and were soon lost in the fog.

  Tansy looked earnestly at Hermione. “Oh, you do think Cleo will come back, don’t you? There hasn’t been time to put butter on her paws, and—”

  “My dear, I don’t think you need to worry. She has attached herself to you and will not go far.”

  Amanda was cutting. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. I don’t know why you’re bothered. It’s just a horrid common feline!”

  No one responded.

  Sir Julian had watched Tansy with approval. He had always liked her, but now that he knew she loved cats, he approved more than ever. Amanda, however, had sunk further in his opinion. He already frowned upon her because of the letters she had exchanged with Randal; now it seemed she had no respect for cats.

  Amanda chose that moment to run to him. “Uncle Julian? Oh, Uncle Julian, I have had a simply terrible time! Truly I have! I don’t know how I have coped!”

  From being coldly contemptuous a few moments before, she was now all choked sobs and feminine weakness, but it did not fool her uncle at all. To his horror she burst into noisy tears, obliging him to press a handkerchief upon her. “Good heavens, child,” he murmured, observing the telling glances that passed between Tansy and the chaperone. So this was nothing new to them, he thought.

  His response exasperated Amanda. “You don’t understand, Uncle! I was shipwrecked, kidnapped by pirates, almost drowned in the Nile, shot at, and— Oh, it was quite terrible!” She hid her face in her hands and dissolved into hysterical sobs.

  Tansy and Hermione shared another look. Poor, dear Amanda must have suffered quite terribly when she was enduring such horrendous trials all on her own, they were both thinking.

  Sir Julian, however, was shaken by Amanda’s revelations. He had realized from Mr. Pettigrew’s remarks that his nieces’ voyage had been hazardous, but he hadn’t for a second envisaged such a catalog of horrors. He looked askance at the boatswain, who nodded.

  “It’s all true, Sir Julian, except that the two other ladies were there as well.”

  “Yes, I rather imagined they were.”

  Amanda sniffed, her face still hidden in her hands. “The leader
of the pirates was going to sell me for the highest price he could. Because of my golden hair and beauty.”

  Such modesty too, Sir Julian thought, but then felt a little guilty for his lack of charity. After all, she really had suffered all she claimed, albeit in a little less isolation than she liked to admit. So he patted her shoulder kindly. “There, there, my dear. You are quite safe now.”

  She lowered her hands to look accusingly at him. “I do not think I will ever recover. No bride should have to cope with such adversities. What dear Lord Sanderby will say I cannot begin to imagine.” With that she resumed her whimpering.

  Sanderby would not care less, Sir Julian thought. The bride and her fortune had survived, and that was all her fine husband would be interested in. But Sir Julian remained kindly as he conducted Amanda to a conveniently flat rock and bade her sit down to rest; then he went to speak to Tansy and the chaperone.

  “Ah, Tansy, my dear, I’m so glad you are unharmed,” he declared, pulling her close and giving her a warm hug.

  “I’m glad too,” she replied wryly, then smiled at him. “And I’m glad to see you again, Uncle.”

  “And I you, my dear, and I you.”

  “Please let me introduce Mrs. Entwhistle, who has been our excellent chaperone from Constantinople.” She presented Hermione, then excused herself to go to the launch, where she could see that some of the seamen were about to carry Martin ashore.

  Behind her, Hermione smiled shyly at Sir Julian. “I am honored to meet you, sir.”

  “And I you, madam.”

  “My late husband was the Reverend Henry Entwhistle, with whom you may recall being in correspondence?”

  Sir Julian gaped at her. So it hadn’t been Endpipe or Bluntwhistle! “Entwhistle is not a common name, madam, so I must wonder if your husband was by any chance an antiquarian with particular interest in Ancient Egypt?”

  “He was, sir.”

  Amanda’s whimpering grew louder as she perceived she was being forgotten, but Sir Julian took no notice as he beamed at Hermione. “Oh, your husband was an excellent fellow, madam, a truly excellent fellow. I do indeed recall corresponding with him.”