Lill only snorted.
Chapter 3
Cobblestones, Cod, and Complications.
Ocean View Villa, Little Valentine, 7thJanuary 1816
“Bugger me, it’s freezing,” Alfie said, grinning at Lill as she handed him his hat with a sour expression.
Lill said nothing, disapproving of Alice—Alfie’s—more liberal use of the English language when togged up as her own sibling.
“Come on, Lill, sweetheart. Try giving us a smile, it won’t hurt.Much,”he added, giving her a jaunty wave as he slapped the hat onto his head and strode out.
The cobbles were still icy and even though Alice usually wore sensible footwear, it was a relief to feel Alfie’s more solid boots beneath his feet. The familiar sense of freedom beckoned him on as an arctic breeze tugged at his hat. For a moment there was sheer exhilaration, the feeling that anything was possible, yet beneath that happiness and bravado, Alice lingered.
Lill said it was all those years running about as a lad that caused the trouble, this uneasy sense of not being entirely comfortable as Alice, at least, not all the time. Of being not quite one nor the other, or perhaps even both at once. Alfie felt necessary. He was freedom, liberation from all the constraints that tied Alice down. Every time Alfie strode out in trousers and boots it felt like victory, like winning against an implacable foein the face of impossible odds, yet Alice offered the chance to conform, to be pretty, for Alice loved pretty things, silk and lace, and diamonds of course. Both seemed necessary for survival, for happiness, if such a thing even existed.
“Stop thinking, for the love of God!” Alfie muttered, for a headache lingered on the horizon if too much more introspection was on the cards.
There was a job to do, and it had best get done, or else.
The Promenade, Little Valentine, 7thJanuary 1816.
Aubrey leaned against the railing and stared out to sea. It was choppy this morning, white horses frothing upon the ferocious waves as they rolled and crashed upon the shore. A fine mist of sea spray settled over his face, sitting on the heavy wool of his coat and provoking a shiver. Perhaps he ought to have gone into Madame August’s with Vinnie and Della rather than bide his time outside. Yet he had hoped he might run into Miss Marwick again.
He had carefully avoided asking where she lived, not wanting her to feel he was stalking her like a hunter after a deer. Though there was something a little doe-like about her, he thought with a smile. Not that he had ever believed the hen-witted fluttering she had attempted to throw him off the scent. Her intelligence had shone through too keenly for him to believe that for a moment, but now and then, when she dropped the somewhat prickly exterior that appeared when she felt threatened, she would smile, and her grey eyes would soften,making those thick eyelashes appear impossibly long, and the tenuous seed of friendship that had sprung up between them seem like something precious, something she did not grant just anyone.
Friendship, he mused. Was that what it was, or was she just placating him, keeping him sweet so he would not look too hard at her brother? It would be natural for her to protect him, of course, but there was something… somethingelse. A sense she was hiding something nagged at the edges of his mind but would not come into focus.
Laughter took his attention, refocusing his attention upon the morning fish auction. Aubrey nodded a greeting to a servant he recognised from the hall, who hefted a large crate to a waiting dog cart. The locals, bundled up in scarves and heavy coats, gathered too, selecting the best of the catch to take home.
A gust of wind blew up, tugging at his coat and whipping his hat from his head before he could grab hold.
“Hell!” He turned to follow its path, watching with some astonishment as a young man lunged for it, careening over the icy cobbles as he caught hold of the brim and then found he could not stop himself. He skidded over the ice, arms windmilling until he crashed into Aubrey.
“Hold there!” Aubrey called out, catching the fellow by the arms and barely keeping him upright. Thankfully, he was thin as a whip and Aubrey got an arm under him, supporting him until he’d recovered his balance.
“I’d throw that one back, my lad,” one of the fishermen shouted to Aubrey. “He’s only a little sprat, no meat on him.”
A roar of laughter from the onlookers greeted this sally, but rather than look offended or embarrassed, the young fellow swept off his own hat and executed a theatrical bow.
“Thank you, ladies, gentlemen, I’m here all week for your entertainment,” he replied, before replacing his own hat at a jaunty angle and offering Aubrey his.
“Sir, your hat,” he said, presenting it with a flourish and a comically grave expression. “It had the temerity to attempt a sea voyage. I do hope you will treat it with the severity it deserves. Hats are tricky blighters, they are never where one thinks they are and sneak off when one isn’t looking.”
Aubrey gave a bark of laughter, rather delighted by the young fellow, and then he took a closer look and realised at once to whom he was speaking. The resemblance between the siblings was marked.
Well, well. What devilish good fortune.
“Hats and Alfred Marwick, I believe, may be placed in the same category,” Aubrey replied with a smile.
The fellow, who could be no more than two and twenty at most going on his boyish looks, stared at him in surprise. “Uh-oh. My reputation precedes me. Who did I offend this time?”
Aubrey chuckled again, recognising his bold younger self in the boisterous youth. “Me, as it happens, but never mind that. Thank you for your heroic rescue of my chapeau. Most selfless of you. You might have broken your neck pulling such a stunt.”
“Happy to be of service but how have I offended you?” he asked with astonishment. “I would swear we’ve never met.”
“We have not, though I have been eager to do so for some days now. Have you broken your fast yet?”
