Quarterdeck(9)

Kydd grinned boyishly. ‘L’tenant Kydd!’ he said, with swelling pride.

‘Then you are now, in the eyes of the whole world, a gentleman. Is this not so?’

It seemed appropriate to bow wordlessly.

Deane contemplated Kydd for a long moment. ‘Do you stop me if I appear impertinent,’ he said, ‘yet I would later remember this moment with shame were I not to share with you now my thoughts concerning your station.’

‘It would be f’r my advantage, Mr Deane.’ He couldn’t resist a quick glance of triumph at Renzi – after all, he had remembered the polite words – but Renzi responded with a frown. Obediently Kydd turned all his attention to the old man.

‘It seems to me that the essence of a gentleman is to be found in his good breeding, his impeccable civility to all, including his servants. “Manners maketh man,” as the Good Book teaches us. Outer manners reflect inner virtue.’

Renzi nodded slowly. ‘The worthy Locke is insistent on this point,’ he murmured.

‘It is never quite easy for the young to acquire the civil virtues,’ the parson continued. ‘“Quo semel est imbuta recens, servabit oderem testa diu,” was Horace’s view, and by this you should understand . . .’

Kydd stirred restlessly in his armchair. ‘Gettin’ to be a gallows’ sight more’n a man c’n take, Cec, all this’n.’

Cecilia affected not to hear. Kydd glanced at her irritably. ‘I mean, how much o’ this is going to stand by me at sea?’

‘That’s better,’ Cecilia said demurely, but laid down her book. ‘Now I’m sure the other officers will be polite and well bred, so you must be the same.’

Kydd snorted.

Renzi sighed. ‘You have still three issues of the Gentleman’s Magazine to digest, to my certain knowledge,’ he said accusingly.

‘And a Spectator,’ Cecilia chimed in. ‘How can you keep a lady entertained at table without you have small-talk to share?’

She looked at Renzi in mock despair, then brightened. ‘Mr Renzi, have you seen our castle? The merest ruin, I’ll grant, but of an age indeed. Mama will be persuaded to come – she knows all the history.’

‘I’m wore out,’ said Mrs Kydd, finding a wooden bench overlooking what remained of the castle keep. ‘You two have a good look roun’ by y’rselves.’

Cecilia was agreeable, and Renzi took her on his arm for the stony path winding about the castle mound. The winter sun had a fragile brilliance, contrasting colour bright with grey and brown tints.

‘It grieves me to say it, but Thomas did not shine at the tea-party in any wise,’ he opened. He was uncomfortably aware of her touch – it had been long years since last he had enjoyed polite female company, and Cecilia was now a beauty.

‘Yes – the silly boy, sitting there like a stuffed goose while the ladies made sport of him. I despair, Nicholas, I really do.’

Renzi assisted Cecilia past a perilous rock. She flashed him a look of gratitude, then dropped her eyes, but her hold on his arm tightened.

‘Miss Kydd . . .’ began Renzi thickly, then stopped. With his own feelings about her far from clear was it fair – was it honourable? – to engage her affections?

‘Yes, Nicholas?’ she said, smiling up at him.

He pulled himself up. ‘I was . . . Your mother confides that you have secured the liveliest trust in your position with Lady Stanhope.’

‘I have been very fortunate,’ she said gravely. Then a smile broke through. ‘You’ve no idea how many of the highest in the land I’ve seen. Lady Stanhope requires I attend her at all her routs and I’m sure it’s only to find me a husband.’

‘And—’

‘Don’t be a silly, Nicholas. I’m sensible of my fortune in this and, I do declare, I’m not ready to forsake it all now for the tedium of domestic life.’ She tossed her head, eyes sparkling.

After another few paces she turned to him with a troubled expression. ‘Thomas – he . . .’

He knew what concerned her: her brother would find himself first ridiculed and later shunned if he could not hold his own in company. ‘Time is short, I agree. Do you not think that we are obligated to press him to enter in upon society in a more formal degree?’

Cecilia bit her lip, then decided. ‘A dinner party! Now, let me see . . . We have the pick of Guildford, of course, a hostess would die to entertain a brace of heroes from Camperdown, but I rather feel that at this stage Thomas would not welcome the public eye too warmly.’ She thought for a moment, then said, ‘I know – I’ll speak with Mrs Crawford, advise her that after such a dreadful battle Thomas relishes nothing better than a small, intimate gathering. I’ll be seeing her on Thursday and shall speak to her then.’