Page 47 of Much Ado about a Widow

The cramped cabin Jemmy had procured onboard the Pegasus, bound for Scotland, but stopping in Penzance, proved barely large enough for him and Elizabeth to stand up and turn around in, but as the saying went, beggars couldn’t be choosers. They’d been lucky to find any vessel heading out this time of year, according to the captain Jemmy had contacted upon their arrival in Portsmouth. Thank God the journey would only take three days, plus another half-day’s travel by coach from Penzance to St. Just. For what seemed like the thousandth time, he cursed Rob heartily for bringing them on this wretched journey.

“Are you ready, my dear?” He truly did not know how Elizabeth was managing to cope with the accommodations, but she seemed to be taking it all in stride. To look at her now, dressed for dinner in a lovely maroon gown with small puffed sleeves, hair swept on top of her head, her eyes sparkling in the light of the one candle, she might have just stepped out of their chamber at her parents’ town home in London.

“I am.” She grinned at him as she pulled her gloves on. “Such an adventure this is, my love. I am quite enjoying our little trip so far. If we find Georgie safe and sound at journey’s end, I will count this one of the most remarkable exploits of my life.”

Shaking his head, Jemmy took her arm and kissed her cheek. “I am glad you are finding our journey so much to your liking, Elizabeth. I pray, however, that such ‘adventures’ will come to us but rarely. I, for one, am extremely put out by the whole escapade. I still cannot fathom what Rob was thinking to bring Georgie off all the way to Cornwall.”

“Please do not continue to let it upset you, my dear.” Elizabeth patted his arm, and he opened the door that led directly onto the much more spacious dining room. The other five or six passengers and several officers were already assembled, although no one had sat down as yet.

“Lord Brack, I believe?” A young man in blue officer’s garb bowed to him. “I am the Pegasus’s first officer, Mr. Benton. How do you do?”

“How do you do, sir.” Jemmy turned to Elizabeth. “My dear, this is our first officer, Mr. Benton. May I present my wife, Lady Brack?” Jemmy’s chest swelled whenever he introduced Elizabeth as his wife. He doubted that pride would ever go away.

“Lady Brack.” Mr. Benton bowed to Elizabeth, a bit more elegantly than before. “I am delighted to meet you. Shall I introduce you to the other passengers? Most will be continuing on to Scotland, but there is one gentleman who, like you, will disembark at Penzance.”

“That will be lovely, Mr. Benton.” Elizabeth smiled serenely as the officer led them toward an older couple. Jemmy couldn’t take his eyes off her. Not only beautiful, but his wife took everything in her stride as well. God, he was a lucky man.

Benton introduced them to Mr. and Mrs. Saunders, a banker and his wife relocating to Glasgow with their two young daughters, and to Mr. Jonathan Croft, a medical student on his way to Edinburgh by way of Glasgow. Several minutes of pleasant conversation ensued, Elizabeth and Mrs. Saunders speaking about the care of children while Jemmy and the two other gentlemen discovered a mutual enthusiasm for grouse shooting.

“You both will have the best time of it in Scotland,” Jemmy declared, quite jealous of their proximity to the exceptional grouse moors in northern Scotland. “I visited relatives there several years ago and went shooting every day for a week. Peak of the season, of course, but truly magnificent sport.”

Mr. Croft had just inquired about the best guns to use, when Mr. Benton reappeared at Jemmy’s side.

“Pardon me, Lord Brack.” Mr. Benton smiled and indicated a man standing at the sideboard speaking with another officer. “This is the gentleman I spoke to you about, who is also going to Penzance.” He steered Jemmy to the other side of the room, where said gentleman was in deep conversation with the captain.

“No, I had not heard that the Antoinette had gone down,” Captain Bryant said, his face grave. “The Channel can be treacherous this time of year.”

“I’d been waiting for weeks for that cargo to arrive. Its loss was quite a blow. But then, I’ve had several such setbacks recently. I trust my luck is about to change, however.” The brooding tone of the unknown man sent an odd chill down Jemmy’s back.

“Excuse me, Captain, my lord.” Mr. Benton nodded to Jemmy. “Here is the other gentleman who is traveling to Penzance. May I make Lord Brack known to you?”

The gentleman, attired in a well-cut gray jacket that had seen better days, whirled around to face them. “Brack?”

Jemmy’s head reeled. “Lord Travers?”

“What are you doing here?” They spoke in unison, so loudly all other conversation in the room ceased and heads turned.

Elizabeth quickly excused herself from Mrs. Saunders and hurried to Jemmy’s side. “My dear, what is wrong?”

With great effort, Jemmy assumed his social manners. Much as he might wish to plant the man a facer, he had to act with civility, at least in public. “My dear, allow me to make known to you Lord Travers. Lady Georgina’s betrothed.”

Her eyes flew open wide, though she did not give any other sign of astonishment.

“My lord, allow me to present my wife, Lady Brack.”

“A pleasure, I’m sure, my lady.” The man mumbled so badly it was hard to make out his words.

“And for me, my lord.” Elizabeth cut her eyes toward Jemmy, who shrugged. He could only think that Travers had discovered where his betrothed had gone and was in pursuit of her as he and Elizabeth were. The question was, how had Travers found out?

Before Jemmy could think how to frame the question, Captain Bryant moved to the head of the table. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you would take your seats for dinner, please?”

Due to the dictates of precedence, Travers was seated at the captain’s right, Jemmy at his left, and Elizabeth on her husband’s left. The rest of the company filled in with the officers around the table, Mrs. Saunders sandwiched between Mr. Benton and her husband at the other end of the table.

Dinner arrived, and for a while everyone applied themselves to the delicious white soup, roasted chicken, a veal pie, pickled beets, green beans in a cream sauce, and a splendid blancmange. Conversations lulled, though comments lauding the cook were heard throughout the dining room.

Sitting across the table, Travers glowered at Jemmy in between swallows of wine. Jemmy had no recollection of anything he’d personally done to the earl to merit such impudence. He’d spoken out against the match, but Travers could hardly know about that unless Father had told him. And how had the man learned of Georgie’s flight to Cornwall?

The man’s sullen face, with puffy, bruised-looking eyes and sunken cheeks, spoke of a life of dissipation. How in God’s name had Father come up with this wastrel as a husband for Georgie?