An Unconventional Countess. Jenni FletcherЧитать онлайн книгу.
Chapter Thirteen
About the Publisher
I grew up with a collector of Nelson memorabilia, so I knew it was only a matter of time before I wrote a story with a naval hero that referenced the Battle of Trafalgar.
This altercation, on the twenty-first of October 1805, proved to be one of the defining events of modern European history. The defeat of the combined French and Spanish forces by the English fleet, under the command of Vice Admiral Horatio Nelson, ensured that Wellington’s soldiers were kept supplied with provisions throughout the remainder of the Napoleonic Wars and established British naval supremacy for the next hundred years—up until the start of World War I.
The ship referred to in this story, the HMS Colossus, really did take part in the battle. I’ve tried to keep the details as accurate as possible, although the actual commander was a Captain James Morris. Fighting in the very midst of the action, the Colossus suffered the highest casualty figures of the British fleet and sustained so much damage that it had to be towed to Gibraltar for repairs before returning to England.
I’ve used it as a tribute to William Wheldale, a sailor who was press-ganged from my home town of Hull in the north of England in 1803 and died aged just twenty in the battle. The details are taken from David Wheldon and Richard Turner’s book Family Connections.
The first part of the story is set in Bath for my grandmother, who lived there for most of her life. As a teenager I stayed at her house with my sister for several weeks every summer, mainly reading Jane Austen novels. She didn’t like history, but she took me to the costume museum, which I loved, and she never made a meal with fewer than three kinds of dessert, for which I will always have the greatest affection and respect.
Finally, the Water Gardens in the second half of the story were inspired by those at Studley Royal in North Yorkshire, completed in 1767 and declared a World Heritage Site in 1986. It’s one of my favourite places to visit and the scene of many happy picnics. Obviously with biscuits.
Bath—March 1806
‘“Belles of Bath, purveyors of the finest quality confectionery.”’ Captain Samuel Delaney read out the words painted on a wooden sign beside a smart yellow-and-white-striped awning, then turned to confront his companion. ‘It’s a biscuit shop.’
‘Not just any biscuit shop.’ The Honourable Ralph Hoxley tapped a finger against the side of his nose. ‘The finest biscuit shop in the whole of England.’
‘The finest...?’ Samuel threw a quick look around, assuring himself that nobody else was in sight before shoving his fist none too gently into the other man’s shoulder. ‘Ralph, we may not be in the first flush of youth any more, but I draw the line at tea and biscuits in the middle of the afternoon.’
‘Ow!’ His companion rubbed his arm gingerly. ‘I say, that’s no reason to attack me. The biscuits are delicious, actually, but that’s not why we’re here.’
‘Then why are we?’
‘You’ll see in a minute. Now, stop complaining and come on.’
Samuel looked about him, inwardly debating whether or not to simply turn around and leave. Swainswick Crescent was less Palladian in style than most of the streets in the fashionable shopping district, though it was built in the same distinctive honey-coloured stone and had a somewhat charming aspect. It was also only a five-minute walk from the house his grandparents had rented on the Circus, but on the other hand he was bored and his curiosity was piqued. Heaving a sigh, he waited until a carriage had rolled past before crossing the street, amused to note that his companion kept just out of arm’s reach until they arrived at the shop windows.
‘There!’ Ralph pointed through the glass triumphantly. ‘Now look and tell me if she isn’t the most extraordinary creature you’ve ever seen.’
She? Samuel rolled his eyes. He might have guessed his wayward friend would only display this much enthusiasm over a woman, yet another unsuitable paramour most likely, but since he was already there... He threw a cursory look inside and then looked again, surprised to find that, for once, Ralph was right. Usually their tastes in relation to the opposite sex were a world apart, but this time extraordinary was exactly the right word.
The woman standing behind the shop counter was of medium stature, slender but not too slender, with a shapely figure and a mass of dark corkscrew curls barely contained in an unruly knot on the top of her head. They gave her an attractively dishevelled aspect, as if she’d just rolled out of bed, an effect exacerbated by the presence of a frilly white apron that put him in mind of a chemise. Unfortunately she was looking downwards, her features obscured by shadow as she tied a ribbon around a barrel-shaped tin, but what he could see of her face was square-shaped and extremely pretty. He couldn’t tell the colour of her eyes, but he would have hazarded a guess that they were the same coffee shade as her hair. He felt a strong urge to find out. Succeeded by an even stronger urge to shove Ralph off the pavement for seeing her first...
‘Isn’t she the most delectable morsel you’ve ever seen?’ If he wasn’t mistaken, Ralph actually licked his lips.
‘Not bad.’ Samuel stepped away from the window and folded his arms. Unlike his companion, he had absolutely no intention of drooling over a woman in public, no matter how drool-worthy she might be. ‘Although it still doesn’t explain why you’ve dragged me halfway across the city. Much as I enjoy admiring your conquests, obviously.’
‘She’s not one of my conquests, not yet, and she never will be without your help.’
‘Really?’ He quirked an eyebrow, surprised and somewhat heartened