The Lieutenant and the Lady

Chapter One

The Daughter of the House

Despite his faith in the wisdom of Captain Aubrey's words, Tom could not help but believe he felt more out of place in Admiral Fanshaw's home than either of his colleagues. What little time he had spent ashore over the years had been spent first in his family's three room dirt-floored cottage and then in tiny little quarters similar to his current lodgings. The captain and Mr. Mowett had undoubtedly spent their time ashore in far more luxurious surroundings. As it was, he could hardly refrain from gaping like a peasant at the incredible beauty and wealth displayed in Admiral Fanshaw's London townhouse, while his companions seemed unmoved.

How anyone could be unmoved by the spectacle of the terraced wedding cake-like mansion all lit up in the dark and the interplay of torchlight with the flowing water of the bronze and marble fountain in the front yard, Tom did not know. He did know better than to allow himself to gawk as much as he wished to and forced himself to remain as impassive as he could. Inside, however, he was filled with wonder at the entrance hall with its intricate tapestries and gilded furniture. Even the butler, dignified and severe in his powdered wig and velvet uniform, so much finer than anything Tom had ever owned, secretly intimidated him into silence.

After being announced, the three men went down the receiving line together. The Admiral stood at the beginning of it, of course, a portly, florid man with a benevolent expression and an appearance of having been poured into his uniform. He greeted the captain with great warmth. "Captain Aubrey, how pleased I am to see you!" he cried, bowing. "And you have brought your clever lieutenants, just as I'd hoped. You three are truly the guests of honor tonight; the entire ballroom is abuzz with the tale of your great victory!"

Tom made his bow along with Captain Aubrey and William, noting the becomingly modest expression on the captain's face. "It was a victory, sure, but not so very great… Nothing to that brave hero Nelson's, of course. And my part in it was nothing compared to that of Mr. Pullings."

At this, Tom shot an uncertain look at William, worried his friend might feel slighted by the captain's comment. But Will merely smiled happily and nodded. "Indeed, my lord, Tom's actions were of all things extraordinary."

Blushing, Tom gave his friend a grateful smile. "The captain and Mr. Mowett give me too much credit, my lord," he murmured to Admiral Fanshaw. "I was lucky enough to have a prime crew of man-o-war's men, all of them trained by Captain Aubrey. Without such a crew I doubt success would have been at all possible."

"Nonsense," Captain Aubrey denied. "The lieutenant is far too modest."

"Having heard the tale, I have no doubt of it!" Admiral Fanshaw exclaimed, smiling at Tom. "I hope to speak with you further, sir, once I have done my duties as host. But for now allow me to present my wife, Lady Fanshaw. My dear, these are our guests of honor: Captain Aubrey of the HMS Surprise and his lieutenants Mr. Pullings and Mr. Mowett."

The three turned to the woman at Admiral Fanshaw's side. She was a few years younger than her husband and was still quite handsome in that way ladies of a certain age who were once raving beauties sometimes are. Her hair was near white but retained enough color to be truthfully considered blonde, and her expression was pleasant if somewhat reserved. "Lady Fanshaw," the captain said, taking her hand and bowing over it in a courtly gesture, "you have my deepest gratitude for inviting us into your lovely home."

"Captain Aubrey," the woman acknowledged with a shallow curtsey. "It is my pleasure to receive you, sir, and your officers."

Tom stepped forward, knowing it was his turn to make his bow and feeling much more nervous before Lady Fanshaw than her husband. Of course he had noticed the precision of the interaction between the lady and his captain. It was obvious that the depth of the captain's bow had been determined by some strange mathematical equation of the ratio of his status to hers, the depth of her curtsey based on the same ratio. With a kind of worried fear, Tom reflected that even as a young midshipman he'd never been mathematically inclined, and of course he had no knowledge of anyone's status within society. He could feel his heartbeat racing faster than it had on the deck of the Acheron during his infamous swordfight.

With an uneasy glance at William, Tom bowed, carefully dipping slightly lower than Captain Aubrey had on the reasoning that the captain outranked him but only just. "Lady Fanshaw," he murmured, unable to form any gallant pleasantries. As he rose and smiled at her nervously, he realized that she was staring at the scar stretching across his face with barely concealed shock. He felt his cheeks flood with heat and knew he must be turning an incredible shade of red; he barely heard Lady Fanshaw's acknowledgement of him, and was quite grateful to be able to move aside to allow William to make his bow.

He rarely thought about the long, hideous scar stretching from just below his right eye, across the bridge of his nose and through his left eyebrow. It had been delivered a year ago at the edge of a Turkish scimitar while fighting to take a prize, and many of the men he currently served with had been present for that battle. Amongst his shipmates there was no reason to consider it. But tonight was the first time since receiving it that he'd interacted with anyone not in the service, and he was rather unnerved by Lady Fanshaw's reaction. As Tom had never given it a second thought before tonight, he was somewhat disturbed to realize the effect it must obviously have on people's opinion of him.

Will finished his polite interaction with Lady Fanshaw, and the three men continued down the receiving line. All three stopped short, stunned by the woman waiting there. The Admiral and his wife were both handsome, stylish people, and if Tom had stopped to think about it at all, he would have assumed any child of theirs would be the same. Instead, the woman who could only be the daughter of the house was extraordinarily plain and dressed in an unflattering, unfashionable high-necked yellow gown that accentuated both the sallowness of her complexion and the lumpiness of her form. Her hair was almost entirely covered by a shapeless cap, but the few strands that escaped appeared to be a dull, rusty brown. It was impossible to determine the color of her eyes as they were hidden behind the spectacles perched on her nose. Such an incongruously dowdy appearance was so surprising that it effectively jolted Tom from his dark thoughts about his scar, and he had to consciously force his mouth to remain closed.

Seeing their hesitation and perhaps guessing the reason for it, she greeted them with a wry expression. "Gentlemen, welcome to our home." Tom found himself surprised again, this time by the low, musical tone of her voice. It seemed far too beautiful to come from such a plain creature.

The captain recovered first, bowing quite properly before saying "Lady Evelyn, I nearly did not recognize you; I have not seen you these six or seven years at least. But I hardly hope that you remember me, my dear."

"Of course I remember you, Captain Aubrey," Lady Evelyn answered, smiling. "My father continues to speak quite highly of you. And this recent action with the Acheron has certainly not lessened his respect."

"If we're to speak of the Acheron, my lady, you must allow me to introduce Mr. Pullings, my first lieutenant." He nudged Tom forward, indicating he should make his bow. "It was Mr. Pullings who took command of the Acheron after we captured her, and defended her from her original French captain, who had hidden on board."

Tom felt himself grow red again, both at his mentor's praise and at the feeling that perhaps Lady Evelyn too was staring at his scar. "I did nothing more than my duty," he protested.

Lady Evelyn smiled at him, and Tom was struck by a sudden fleeting glimpse of what might be called beauty in her face. It was gone in an instant, however, as she spoke to him. "You must tell me the truth, Mr. Pullings, for parts of the tale I can scarcely believe. Surely it is an exaggeration that you fought the French captain sword to sword on the rails of the ship, with the sea no more than a single misstep away?"

William laughed, clapping Tom on the back and answering for him. "I assure you, my lady, it is no exaggeration. I beheld the feat with my own eyes through a spyglass from the deck of the Surprise. I confess I never suspected Tom- that is, Mr. Pullings- of such swordsmanship!"

Blushing even more hotly, Tom shot a quelling glance at his friend. "It sounds much more daring in the telling, my lady, than it seemed at the time."

"That I can well believe," she answered. "Otherwise, you would hardly have been able to bring yourself to attempt it. I suspect you must be very brave, Mr. Pullings."

Unsure of the best response to such a compliment, Tom was grateful when William stepped forward to make his bow and they were finally herded past the receiving line and into the ballroom.