worrying about a creaky old house. I do
not intend to spend the rest of my life buried at Windhaven It was very
tiresome and arbitrary of Captain Trent to advise Emma that we should all
remain quietly here in Norfolk until he gets around to deciding what to do with
us. Not even permitting me to visit my own cousins in London! Why, it's
positively barbaric."
Although Chloe was not exactly in charity with the captain
herself, she felt obliged to be fair. "I suppose it was the most sensible
course for the captain to follow. He would be held accountable if any harm came
to us, traveling about. I daresay he doesn't want to make any hasty decisions
until he becomes better acquainted with us."
"Well, he has had plenty of opportunity to do that. He
should have called upon us during the past year."
"He is a naval captain, Lucy," Agnes said, her
voice laced with sarcasm. "There is the little matter of trying to stop
Napoleon's plans to launch an invasion fleet."
"I don't see any need for Captain Trent to feel obliged
to do it single-handedly. There are plenty of other men in the navy, you
know." Lucy strutted before the mirror, pausing to pinch some color into
her cheeks—an unnecessary gesture, as her face was already flushed with
indignation. "Captain Trent or no Captain Trent, I don't intend to miss
the London Season this year."
"Much good it will do you." Agnes smirked as she
turned another page. "The allowance you have been drawing scarce
constitutes a fortune."
Lucy tossed her golden curls. "I don't care. Other
women have made successful matches with nothing more than beauty to recommend
them. Why shouldn't I?" A hardness crept into Lucy's eyes. Chloe had seen
that look come over her sister too often of late, and she did not like it. In
some strange way, it diminished Lucy's beauty.
"By this time next year," Lucy declared, "I
am going to be wed to a lord, at the very least, and be hideously, fabulously
wealthy."
"And very much in love too, I hope," Chloe added
anxiously.
Lucy gave her a look of lofty disdain. "Do strive for a
little maturity, Chloe. Love has nothing to do with marriage."
"It did for Mama and Papa."
Lucy appeared momentarily taken aback by this quiet
reminder, but she was quick to rally. "Oh, but that was a long time ago.
Things were very different then. These are modern times, Chloe. At present, all
I want to do is make a good impression on this dreary captain, convince him
that he need only point me toward London and wash his hands of me."
So saying, Lucy turned back to the mirror. Although her
toilette was already quite perfect, she spent the next several minutes
primping, fussing with the folds of her skirt, until Chloe began to feel
self-conscious and stole a second peek at her own appearance.
Although she hated to admit it, she was both nervous and
excited at the prospect of meeting this unknown naval officer. More than
anything, she longed to ply Captain Trent with questions about her father's
last hours. His report had seemed so curt, so unsatisfactory.
The hardest thing about losing Papa had been the suddenness
with which he seemed to disappear from their lives. They had not even been able
to mourn over him, lay him to rest in the family crypt. Papa had simply
vanished, consigned to the depths of the cold, cruel sea.
There was so much Chloe needed to know about Sir Phineas's
last days. And yet she wondered if she would ever have the courage to make
inquiries of this captain, who was a complete stranger.
"What do you suppose he is like, this Captain
Trent?" Chloe asked her sisters.
Lucy stopped primping long enough to consider this question.
"I don't know. I have never really thought about it. One of those
stiff-necked military types, I suppose."
"I daresay he is like most sea captains," Agnes
piped up. "Coarse, with a booming voice, bandy legs, and a flaming red
nose because he drinks too much rum."
"Pooh," Lucy said. "How would you know? How
many sea captains have you ever met?"
But
not intend to spend the rest of my life buried at Windhaven It was very
tiresome and arbitrary of Captain Trent to advise Emma that we should all
remain quietly here in Norfolk until he gets around to deciding what to do with
us. Not even permitting me to visit my own cousins in London! Why, it's
positively barbaric."
Although Chloe was not exactly in charity with the captain
herself, she felt obliged to be fair. "I suppose it was the most sensible
course for the captain to follow. He would be held accountable if any harm came
to us, traveling about. I daresay he doesn't want to make any hasty decisions
until he becomes better acquainted with us."
"Well, he has had plenty of opportunity to do that. He
should have called upon us during the past year."
"He is a naval captain, Lucy," Agnes said, her
voice laced with sarcasm. "There is the little matter of trying to stop
Napoleon's plans to launch an invasion fleet."
"I don't see any need for Captain Trent to feel obliged
to do it single-handedly. There are plenty of other men in the navy, you
know." Lucy strutted before the mirror, pausing to pinch some color into
her cheeks—an unnecessary gesture, as her face was already flushed with
indignation. "Captain Trent or no Captain Trent, I don't intend to miss
the London Season this year."
"Much good it will do you." Agnes smirked as she
turned another page. "The allowance you have been drawing scarce
constitutes a fortune."
Lucy tossed her golden curls. "I don't care. Other
women have made successful matches with nothing more than beauty to recommend
them. Why shouldn't I?" A hardness crept into Lucy's eyes. Chloe had seen
that look come over her sister too often of late, and she did not like it. In
some strange way, it diminished Lucy's beauty.
"By this time next year," Lucy declared, "I
am going to be wed to a lord, at the very least, and be hideously, fabulously
wealthy."
"And very much in love too, I hope," Chloe added
anxiously.
Lucy gave her a look of lofty disdain. "Do strive for a
little maturity, Chloe. Love has nothing to do with marriage."
"It did for Mama and Papa."
Lucy appeared momentarily taken aback by this quiet
reminder, but she was quick to rally. "Oh, but that was a long time ago.
Things were very different then. These are modern times, Chloe. At present, all
I want to do is make a good impression on this dreary captain, convince him
that he need only point me toward London and wash his hands of me."
So saying, Lucy turned back to the mirror. Although her
toilette was already quite perfect, she spent the next several minutes
primping, fussing with the folds of her skirt, until Chloe began to feel
self-conscious and stole a second peek at her own appearance.
Although she hated to admit it, she was both nervous and
excited at the prospect of meeting this unknown naval officer. More than
anything, she longed to ply Captain Trent with questions about her father's
last hours. His report had seemed so curt, so unsatisfactory.
The hardest thing about losing Papa had been the suddenness
with which he seemed to disappear from their lives. They had not even been able
to mourn over him, lay him to rest in the family crypt. Papa had simply
vanished, consigned to the depths of the cold, cruel sea.
There was so much Chloe needed to know about Sir Phineas's
last days. And yet she wondered if she would ever have the courage to make
inquiries of this captain, who was a complete stranger.
"What do you suppose he is like, this Captain
Trent?" Chloe asked her sisters.
Lucy stopped primping long enough to consider this question.
"I don't know. I have never really thought about it. One of those
stiff-necked military types, I suppose."
"I daresay he is like most sea captains," Agnes
piped up. "Coarse, with a booming voice, bandy legs, and a flaming red
nose because he drinks too much rum."
"Pooh," Lucy said. "How would you know? How
many sea captains have you ever met?"
But
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