Page 15 of A Winter’s Romance

N icholas remained in Falmouth for several days, finding that the bustling pace of the town suited him. He followed his batman’s advice and visited Pendennis Castle, where Governor Melvill and his wife, Elizabeth, made him very welcome. Melvill took Nicholas on a tour of the fortifications, showing him the men’s barracks and the original castle structure, built in the time of King Henry VIII. With windows on three sides, the main tower had a commanding view of the Carrick Roads estuary, the open sea, and the adjacent coastline.

‘Very impressive,’ acknowledged Nicholas. ‘If the French ever proceed with their invasion plans, they’ll not get far if they pick this location to commence their campaign.’

Melvill chuckled. ‘Yes, my men will be ready for them. They may be an Invalid company of soldiers, but my troops are as keen to defeat the enemy as any of His Majesty’s soldiers.’

‘My man told me that you were out in India. I was there too, for a time. Is that where…?’ Nicholas gestured to Melvill’s left arm, which was in a sling. The man’s right arm wasn’t much better, hanging limply at his side.

Melvill, a man looking older than his almost fifty years, sent him a rueful smile. ‘Yes, I was there for six years all told. Four of them in captivity.’

Nicholas’ good eye widened. ‘You were one of those held by Hyder Ally?’ He’d heard the stories of what had happened to the men. Out of one hundred and twenty-six soldiers only thirty stayed alive long enough to be released.

‘Yes, the good Lord decided that he had a purpose for me.’ Melvill smiled then nodded towards Nicholas’ face. ‘I daresay He has a purpose for you, else that shot that robbed you of one of your eyes might have done far more damage.’

Nicholas shrugged. ‘Possibly. Though I’ll have my hands full sorting out my estate and I’ve now got a ward, thanks to one of my fellow officers.’

‘There you are.’ An enigmatic smile appeared on Melvill’s face.

As Nicholas strode back down the hill towards the town there was a spring in his step. It was time to move on and not dwell on what might have been. Tomorrow, he’d pack his bags and plan his journey to Bath. He would make a go of things. He might not find himself a wife, but he would ensure that his estate and tenants would prosper, and the child he was now guardian to would have every opportunity that her father’s death had denied her.

Travelling was not the nicest of experiences in the colder months. Nicholas stared gloomily out of the coach window. How had he forgotten the rutted and muddy roads that made winter travelling in England hellish? There’d been several stops at post inns where the food was not the best and the rooms uncomfortable, something else he had not missed about his home country. Still, it was an improvement on sleeping under the stars in driving rain, foraging for food, and being a target for a French sniper. What he hated most was the rocking and swaying of the coach, which was almost as bad as the crossing of the Bay of Biscay.

As he stepped from the coach in front of the fine building that was the York Hotel, Nicholas heaved a sigh of relief. He surveyed the impressive frontage. So this was the place recommended by his fellow officers. Well, he’d soon discover if it lived up to its reputation of being one of the largest and best inns outside of London, patronised by those of the highest rank.

Nicholas’ stomach rumbled. He checked his pocket watch. Disappointingly, the time for dinner was some way off. So, after approving the excellently appointed bedchamber and parlour that the manager, a Mr Lucas, had shown him to, he decided that a stroll was called for. Surely he would find something to satisfy his hunger pangs until dinnertime. There was no need to call on his ward until tomorrow.

Nicholas smiled to himself. He hadn’t informed the headmistress of the exact day of his arrival in Bath. The element of surprise was a tactic that had proved useful when tackling the enemy; it might well be as effective when dealing with Miss Pugh and her establishment. He hadn’t a clue whether the school was good or bad, but he would find out.

Waving away the attentions of a waiting chairman – he might be half blind but he wasn’t a cripple and spending one shilling and sixpence to travel a mile was an unnecessary expense – Nicholas set off, leaving the young Penrose to unpack .

For the first time in many days, the tension left Nicholas’ shoulders and neck. The surrounding buildings, constructed in a pleasing honey-coloured stone, reflected the rays of the winter sun. It was even dry underfoot, a pleasant change after days of rain. How nice it was to stroll aimlessly, without worrying about his men or the next encounter with the enemy.

He tipped his hat to a gentleman and his lady. The lady’s mouth opened in shock and was that fear in her eyes? Nicholas’ mouth twisted as he strode past the couple.

What was he thinking? It wouldn’t do to upset ladies with his disfigured face. He hurried on, pulling the brim of his hat down low.

He’d not gone far before he arrived at a broad thoroughfare declaring itself to be Milsom Street. He paused to inspect the vista before him. Lined with private residences and shops of the expensive variety, it was crowded with well-dressed people. Perhaps down here there was also an establishment selling something to eat.

Nicholas’ nose twitched. An enticing smell filled the air. A confectioner’s sign rocking in the breeze caught his attention. A pastry or two would be just the thing.

Striding into the pastry shop, he kept his head low, glancing this way and that. Good, there was an empty table in the corner, out of sight. No need to upset anyone by showing his scarred face.

Mrs Molland’s pastries were indeed excellent. It didn’t take him long to polish off several. Patting his stomach, he reached into his waistcoat pocket for his watch. Plenty of time left still to explore and perhaps visit one of the bookshops he’d spotted. Ah, yes, he mustn’t forget to call in at a haberdasher’s to purchase ribbons. Little girls liked ribbons, didn’t they? He couldn’t call on his ward empty-handed. Goodness, he wasn’t even sure how old she was.

As luck would have it, across the road was the very shop he needed. Earls’ Emporium seemed to sell items that might appeal to a young lady: hats, gloves, all sorts of fancy goods. They were sure to stock ribbons. Nicholas marched purposefully across the street towards the haberdasher’s door and in his haste collided with a diminutive figure who was walking on the pavement.

‘I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t see you.’

He held out a hand to steady the female he’d sent spinning. Her hat was all askew and her glossy chestnut tresses had escaped their pins and were covering her face.

Nicholas held his breath. At least he hadn’t cannoned into an old dowager. Wellesley was known for his short temper, but some dowagers Nicholas had met were far more formidable than his old commander.

‘Oh dear. N-no, I must apologise. I wasn’t looking…’ The lady’s voice trailed off as she turned to face him.

He braced himself for the coming hysterics.

‘Would you mind, terribly?’ Her voice was hesitant, but with a gentle, melodious tone. She thrust a package towards him. ‘If you could kindly hold this for a moment, I can tidy my hair and adjust my hat.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Nicholas swallowed, unable to take his gaze off her.

He watched as, with deft fingers, she tucked her hair back under her hat. Such lovely hair, the colour of shiny horse chestnuts.

The young woman gave her hat a final pat, her lips curving into a smile as she looked up at him and took back her parcel .

Nicholas braced himself again. Perhaps his scars hadn’t registered with her the first time she’d looked at him.

‘It must be quite difficult in your situation to navigate crowded streets,’ she said, pointing to his missing eye. ‘I take all the blame for my misstep.’

Her reply took him off-balance.

‘No, really, it was entirely down to me.’

It was impossible to drag his gaze away from her pretty, open face. She wasn’t in the first flush of youth, but not in her dotage. No more than five and twenty and decidedly attractive.

Her eyes, their colour midway between dark blue and grey, sparkled with amusement. ‘Then let us agree to differ.’ She gestured to the shop door behind her. ‘Was that your destination?’

Nicholas nodded. How could he delay her? Her smile was sending his pulse racing. It had been so long since an attractive woman had smiled at him, openly and without fear. The ribbons, that’s it!

‘Perhaps you can assist me,’ he ventured.

She arched an eyebrow.

‘Help me to choose a colour,’ he said in explanation. ‘There’s someone I wish to purchase ribbons for. She’s quite young, a child in fact, and I have no idea what she would like. Do you think you could?’ He sent her a pleading look.

This was something different. He was accustomed to issuing orders, not begging favours, but to spend more time in her company he’d happily beg.

‘What luck. I know exactly the sorts of ribbons that would appeal to young girls. I would be pleased to help you.’

Nicholas held out his elbow and she laid her hand on it. Even though she wore gloves, tingles of electricity shot up his arm.

They entered the shop. Unable to wipe the smile from his face, Nicholas headed for the counter.

How wonderful to have a woman on his arm.

‘How may I help you, Sir and Madam?’

He heard a stifled chuckle from his companion. At least she was amused at the shop assistant’s error and not scandalised.

‘I would like to purchase some ribbons and this lady – a friend – has kindly agreed to assist me.’

‘Yes, this gentleman would like to see ribbons in pastel hues, colours suitable for a very young lady, to be used, I daresay, for decorating her bonnet or a dress.’ The young woman turned her eyes towards him. There was a becoming flush to her cheeks. ‘Have I got that right?’

Nicholas chuckled. ‘Exactly right, thank you.’

The assistant brought out trays of ribbons in all different shades of pinks, yellows, creams, and blues. The young lady picked one or two of each, feeling the quality. As she leaned over, scrutinising them, the blue ribbons decorating her own hat came into Nicholas’ view. He blinked. They seemed rather worn – a faded version of their original hue, no doubt. Perhaps when she’d bought them they’d matched the colour of her eyes. The rest of her garb was rather plain and somewhat severe. Her velvet pelisse was faded and worn in places. Nevertheless, she exuded grace and elegance.

After several minutes’ perusal, she sighed. ‘I think I’d recommend any of these. But if you are really unsure about which colour the young lady would prefer, I’d suggest the cream ones. That shade will go with many different colours.’ Tucking her parcel firmly under her arm, she bobbed a curtsey. ‘Well, I must be going now. I do hope that I’ve been of some help. ’

Stunned, it was some moments before Nicholas could speak. He spun round. She was already at the door.

‘But I don’t know…’

The door closed behind her.

Nicholas exhaled. There was no point in making a fool of himself by chasing her. She didn’t want to further their acquaintance. Shoulders slumped, he turned back to the counter.

‘I’ll take two yards of each of these.’ He pointed to ribbons of each different shade. On a shelf, behind the assistant, he spotted yet another colour. ‘And a yard of that, if you please.’

The assistant’s eyebrows rose as he measured out the new dark blue ribbon. Nicholas didn’t care. At least he’d have something in memory of his encounter with a lady who hadn’t flinched at his appearance.