Three: Dinner and Conversations
The dinner was delicious, but Horatio could not concentrate on the food or the conversation. He was rather fascinated, in fact, with Elizabeth Brocklehurst. She could be no older than eighteen. Her face was pale and freckly and quite dignified. Her neck was slender and smooth, and her hands were small and dainty. She was almost tall for a woman, but only reached his breast bone. Her eyes… almond-shaped, framed with long, curled lashes a few shades darker than her hair and smoky. Her eyes were blue – blue as a sapphire or forget-me-nots. They were flecked with gold around her pupil, but it did not taint them, rather enhance them. They had a fiery glint, and her pink, full lips were flanked by dimples that showed frequently in soft smiles. Her brows were expressive and often told a different story to the words she spoke in her gentle, sweet tone that held such authority over him. She was intelligent and witty, and opinionated to the exasperation of her mother, who felt disgraced of such a spirited daughter, but loved her dearly and wouldn't dream of stopping the scathing comments that Elizabeth provided to the meal. Being so young, no one took offence to them, which seemed to infuriate Elizabeth, as she was disregarded as a child who knew little of politics.
The meal was cleared away and the women retired to the drawing room whilst brandy and cigars were handed to the men. Conversation was light and masculine, and Horatio had little interest in it – the prices of properties and horses. Ships; that was where his interests lay. The wide, brisk sea. Freedom. The conversation moved on to France.
"So when do you think old Boney will give it up?" Mr Langdon announced confidently to Pellew. Ever the diplomat, Pellew smiled and pondered his answer.
"I think there's fight in France yet. We shall see."
"Mr Hornblower? What is your opinion?" Mr Langdon turned to the captain, who felt all eyes on him. He hesitated, disliking the attention and the question.
"Well, France is a passionate country, sir, whether revolutionary or royalist. I think it is for France to decide when Bonaparte will stop fighting." Pellew nodded at him slightly. Prudent, Mr Hornblower, Horatio silently heard his admiral's words and hid his smile.
"Shall we retire, gentlemen?" Mr Langdon eventually said, and led the way into the drawing room, where the women sat. Horatio noticed Elizabeth lounging on a chaise-longue near the fire, and wondered at her familiarity. That was it… she was familiar. With a pang, he noticed that she had Archie's nose and freckles. Archie… he turned away, agreeing to play cards.
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She paid little attention to the conversation. Such dinner evenings bored her anyway, and the company drove her mad. Elizabeth sighed to herself. Megan wasn't here to rescue her, and none of the men would entertain her in stimulating discussions, which was probably her father's presence. He was too stern for his own good, sometimes. She watched the cards closely, and in particular, Mr Hornblower. He was remarkably handsome, she thought. Quiet and calculating, but very intelligent behind those soft brown eyes, Elizabeth liked him, but wished he wasn't such a gentleman. She'd had far too many of those. He was winning at cards, too, which seemed to ruffle her father at least. Most men were too shy to truly compete with Mr Brocklehurst.
"Mr Hornblower had an encounter with La Sombra recently." Admiral Pellew announced, dragging Elizabeth's musings back to the present. She felt a jolt in her whole body, and clenched her hands in her lap. Mr Hornblower blushed and cleared his throat as her uncle and father looked expectant. Glancing round the room, Elizabeth noticed the increased attention from her mother and aunt. The other guests had left soon after the meal, and she was glad of it.
"Well?" Prompted her uncle. "What was he like?" Mr Hornblower considered his answer for a moment, staring at the cards he held in his hand as if they would provide a solution to the attention.
"Mysterious." Mr Hornblower eventually replied. "He didn't say much – he's someone who would rather use actions as opposed to words." He shrugged, placing down a card. All men paused to see the number, before they continued.
"What did he say though? More to the point – how did he sound?" Mr Langdon asked. Mr Hornblower frowned in question.
"Some say he is French; a noble or other fighting against Bonaparte." Mr Brocklehurst added.
"I've heard he's Spanish – hence the name." Mr Langdon interrupted. Pellew sucked in his breath – Elizabeth had always liked him, a straight-talking, forward-thinking man, who hated such gossip that irritated her.
"And I heard that he's English. The rumour is that he got the name because he first appeared in Spain, and they named him first. But that's all they are – rumours. Until someone chooses to confirm it, we won't know either way."
"Yes, but, still it's good to speculate about it." Mr Langdon smiled indulgently. "So, we were wondering, admiral. How does La Sombra know where to go?"
"What do you mean, sir?" Pellew asked, rather sharply, but the tone was lost on her irrepressible uncle.
"Well, always appearing wherever Englishmen are in trouble. How does he know? I've heard tell that he has contacts within the navy – rather high up."
"Anything of that sort is street gossip, sir, for I have had no contact with La Sombra and do not presume that anyone under my command has ever had." Pellew's eyes shone with anger, though his words were courteous and forcefully polite. Realising he had over-stepped the mark, Mr Langdon turned to Mr Hornblower again.
"Mr Hornblower, do tell us about your encounter with La Sombra." He pressed. Elizabeth, deciding that she was best absent, stood abruptly. She smiled tightly as the men turned to look at her.
"If you'll excuse me, sirs, the night grows on me, and I think I shall retire." She dipped her head and stalked from the room, her heart pounding, knowing that those dark eyes were watching her every step, watching and calculating.
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Horatio felt disappointed at Elizabeth's early departure, they had barely said two words together. But, as it turned out, Pellew was reluctant to stay too, and they soon took their leave, Pellew managing to trap himself into accepting invitations for both himself and Horatio to a ball at the Langdon estate the next night. As they parted ways at the dock, Pellew looked at Horatio shrewdly.
"You're a prudent man, Mr Hornblower. Don't let anything stop that." Horatio frowned.
"Sir?"
"Elizabeth is a fascinating creature, is she not?" Was the admiral's parting reply as he stepped into the Indy's jolly and nodded to the seamen to row. "Goodnight, Mr Hornblower."
