"We weren't caught too badly. Anyone hurrying about on foot would have got drenched. Far better to just take shelter until it was all over." Stewart smiled broadly and winked at his wife.
Elizabeth had little doubt what the couple had been getting up to whilst they had taken shelter; she had been doing pretty much the same herself.
No one else accounted for their whereabouts immediately, however, so she had to use her other powers of deduction. Francis Baines was tall and handsome, with brown hair, but he was married to the tiny girl called Jeanne who was helping with what she took to be Vevina's triplets, two boys and a girl.
"No, they're twins. This is Jack Beckett Fitzgerald, son of two dear friends who were killed at Badajoz. Duncan Monroe over there helped me save him from the French when they attacked our baggage train and slaughtered all the women and children," Vevina explained.
They all shuddered, and huge blond brother Wilfred said devoutly, "God rest their souls."
Elizabeth turned to look at Wilfred more closely, but the lanky adolescent standing by his side distracted her when he said, "And I lost my sight there. But Mum and Dad adopted me, and most of my vision has come back. So miracles do happen."
Wilfred ruffled his hair affectionately. "Yes, they do, Bob, if you believe, leave yourself open to the wonderful, the miraculous. Meeting Stewart was a miracle for us all. Kind of like getting you to lose that incomprehensible Cockney accent of yours."
The lad grinned back. "It wasn't nearly as bad as Parky's accent. He still sounds like a strangled crow."
Everyone laughed except the tall, well-built, handsome blond young man in uniform whom Elizabeth guessed to be just about her own age.
"Not my fault, old chap, if you don't appreciate the finer things in life. Including me. And it is Major Geoffey Parks to you, young man, not Parky." His severe tone was ruined by the broad grin have gave at the end of his pompous speech.
She noted his accent was still very plummy, much more so than that of the man in the cave. Still, he was most gallant and chatty to her as the afternoon progressed, so she could not discount him entirely as her enigmatic admirer.
Dashing Mitchell and dapper Monroe she could. Mitchell was tall, about six three, and had the most remarkable black twinkling eyes and long flowing hair like a pirate. But his left sleeve, pinned up past the elbow, told her he could not have been the man who had clutched her in his warm embrace.
Pity, that, she thought with a sigh. What a terrible loss, though he seemed to bear it very well. The fact that he seemed to be a common soldier also discounted him. Even her unpretentious brother might take exception to him as her lover. As a genteel, entertaining and undemanding companion though, he was wonderful.
Monroe was ruled out by dint of being a bit too short, both in body and hair. He was about six feet, with sandy brown hair and deep-set hazel eyes. He was very attractive in a direct if quiet way. He had a decided air of confidence and unflappability about him. She was not surprised to find he had been one of Wellington's most trusted ADCs.
She wondered how Vevina managed to get anything done with so many good-looking men surrounding her. Even five minutes in their company had her tongue-tied and unable to concentrate.
Elizabeth's confusion was added to when a new set of visitors was announced. The two fair Teague brothers, Timothy and James, three of the Kellys, Sean and his sisters Martha and Ann, came in together, and finally Marcus Fitzsimmons and his sisters.
She ruled out Sean as having much too broad a brogue and too short a frame. His sisters were two pleasant, quiet girls about her own age whom she looked forward to getting to know better.
She was not so sure about the sharp-eyed, sharp-featured blonde Fitzsimmons girls, whom she was certain had to have a little pocketbook in which they made notes about every single man they met. They asked the most shockingly direct personal questions of every man in the room, and ignored all of the women except Charlotte, to whom they were excessively deferential.
Strangely enough, they seemed to avoid Vevina, though she was a Duchess as well.
Elizabeth had to admit that she hardly paid attention to the women in the drawing room as each man towered over her and said how pleased they were to make her acquaintance. She didn't know what to think. She had so many potential chaps to choose from as her enigmatic lover that unless someone made specific reference to the storm or the cave, she was simply going to have to hope for some sort of clue. Or some more obvious intervention, she thought with a blush.
Fortunately the weather was a favourite safe topic of conversation around the dinner table, so she would introduce the subject of the storm and see what she could discover.