Quarterdeck(3)
His mother’s words could not hide the essence of the matter, the brutal truth, and Kydd felt a chill at the passing of his simple life. He saw her colouring: she had understood that her son was no longer hers. From now on, society events and invitations would firmly distinguish between the Kydds.
‘We shall stay at the Angel,’ Renzi said softly. ‘Then we will take modest lodgings in town.’
Kydd mumbled agreement.
‘Well, then, that’s settled,’ his mother said bravely. ‘It’s for the best, o’ course. Come inside an’ take a posset – you must be frozen after y’r journey.’
As he cradled a mug of hot curdled milk at the kitchen table Kydd listened to the flow of prattle from his mother, felt the quiet presence of his father and caught the curious flash of the maid’s eyes. His own kept straying down to his uniform, the blue and gold so striking. Who could guess what the future might hold now? A deep sigh escaped him.
He heard the approaching tap, tap of footsteps. His mother smiled. ‘Ah, that must be Cecilia – she’ll be so surprised to see you!’
The last time he had seen his sister was in a wrecked boat in the Caribbean. He recalled her mortal terror as they had fought for their lives against the sharks. What would she think of him now?
‘She’s done very well with Lord an’ Lady Stanhope, Thomas. Quite the lady companion she is now,’ Mrs Kydd said proudly. ‘And don’t go quarrellin’ with her, if y’ please, you know how it upsets your father.’
The outside door rattled, and Cecilia’s voice echoed down the passageway. ‘Father – what is going on? I saw quantities of your boys on the street and . . .’ Her voice died away as the two men rose to their feet. She looked from face to face, incredulous. ‘Thomas? You . . . you . . .’
Kydd awkwardly held out his hands. ‘Ye’re doin’ well, Mother says—’
Suddenly her expression softened to a deep tenderness, and she seized her brother in a fierce hug. ‘Oh, Thomas! I’ve so missed you!’
He felt her body heaving, and when she looked at him again he saw the sparkle of tears. His own voice was gruff with emotion as he said, ‘Sis – y’ remember in th’ boat—’
She stopped him with a finger on his lips and whispered, ‘Mother!’ Then she let him go, crossed to Renzi and placed a generous kiss on both his cheeks. ‘Dear Nicholas! How are you? You’re still so thin, you know.’
Renzi replied politely, and Cecilia turned back to her brother. ‘Thomas and Nicholas are going to take chocolate with me at Murchison’s and tell me all their adventures, while you, Mother, prepare such a welcome for this wandering pair!’ she announced. Her eyes widened. ‘Gracious me – and if I’m not mistaken in the particulars – Thomas, you’re a . . .’
‘L’tenant Kydd it is now, Cec,’ he said happily.
The evening meal was a roaring success. Kydd became hoarse with talking and Renzi was quite undone by the warmth of his welcome. Cecilia could not get enough of Kydd’s descriptions of the Venice of Casanova, even above his protestations that the danger of their mission meant he was hardly in a position to discourse on the republic’s attractions.
Distant thumps and a sudden crackle sounded outside. Cecilia clapped her hands. ‘The fireworks – I nearly forgot! Tonight we’ll see your Admiral Onslow – he is to be a baronet, and is now resting at Clandon with his brother the earl. It’s said he’ll make an address from the balcony of the town hall! Gentlemen – I wish to attend! I shall be with you presently.’ She swept away imperiously to appear shortly afterwards in a pelisse at the height of fashion: lemon silk, lined and faced with blue. She looked at them both with the suspicion of a pout. ‘And who will be my gentleman escort?’
Kydd hesitated, but instantly Renzi bowed deeply and offered his arm. ‘May I observe that I find Mademoiselle is in looks tonight?’ he said, with the utmost courtly grace.
Cecilia inclined her head and accepted his arm. They went outside and, without a backward glance at Kydd, moved off down the lane, Cecilia’s laughter tinkling at Renzi’s sallies.
Kydd watched them helplessly. His sister had changed. There was not a trace of childhood chubbiness left: her strong features had developed into strikingly dark good looks and a languorous elegance. Her position with Lady Stanhope had allowed her to find an easy confidence and elegance of speech that he could only envy; he followed them, trying to look unconcerned.
Crowds pressed everywhere, while excited chatter and the smell of fireworks hung on the air. People held back respectfully. Kydd was not sure whether it was in recognition of them as gentlefolk or because of the Navy uniform. Closer to the torch-lit balcony the throng was tightly packed and they had to remain some distance back.