Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Dorian lost no time following Lenora and her mother to the continent. He did take a separate ship, just for appearance’s sake. In fact, as a gentleman travelling alone, he took passage on a tramp freighter sailing out of Dover. It caught the neap tides and favourable winds, landing in Calais just six hours after departure.

Just after Dorian’s crossing, storms blew up along the coast. Ships landing only hours after his told tales of terrible tides and ferocious winds. They even mentioned ice coating the rigging.

Hence, he found himself haunting the docks, day after day, anxiously awaiting news from England. Had Lady Temple changed her mind? Had the family boarded a ship only to be caught in one of the terrible storms?

He became a nearly regular fixture along the dock. “You keep looking out to sea,” a bold tar said to him at the end of his first week of waiting. “I’d almost say you’re expecting someone special.”

“My sweetheart,” Dorian said. “A lovely lady I grew up with. She is to meet me here. Her ship should only have been hours behind mine. Days at most.”

“Right-o,” the sailor said. “And you now not knowing if she changed her mind or if her ship went down with all hands and passengers aboard.”

“Exactly,” Dorian said, again looking out to sea.

“Have you tried looking at the ships list in the ‘change office?” the sailor asked.

“Why, no,” Dorian said, struck by the simplicity of the solution. Then, a realization hit him. “But how would they know about a ship that is still at sea?”

“Some crazy flag signal system,” the sailor replied. “I don’t even pretend to know how, but they can wave those things around or blink a light from the lighthouses. They can send messages about needing help or whether a ship is lost. If that don’t work, there’s always the fishermen and freighters.”

“Right,” Dorian said, not at all sure he believed the man. But it kindled a spark of hope in his breast. Besides, checking at the offices along the dock was a better use of his time than staring out to sea. By the end of the third week, Dorian’s diligence was rewarded by word of a passenger packet limping its way towards Calais.

As it turned out, the news was hours old. By the time he found the correct dock and the right passenger manifest, Lady Temple and her family had disembarked. Nearly everyone along the docks had by now heard of Dorian’s vigil. One of the roustabouts pointed him towards the hotel where the passengers were putting up.

Dorian scarcely gave the Temples time to unpack their luggage before he had their hotel concierge take up a note that “a certain gentleman awaits you in the lobby.”

He waited nervously until a dishevelled and travel-weary Lenora came slowly down the stairs. “Dorian?” she asked hesitantly.

“Oh, Lenora,” he exclaimed. “I’ve been here simply ages. When your ship didn’t land shortly after mine, I feared the worst.”

“You would not have been wrong,” Lenora said. “First, we were delayed when August declared that he needed to remain at home and support Father. Then, our carriage lost a wheel on the way to Dover, so we missed our first ship. Fortunately, Mother had paid the fare to an agent rather than to a captain, so we did not lose our money.”

“That is fortunate,” Dorian said. “That put you, what, three days? Four? behind me?”

“Five,” Lenora said, making a face of annoyance. “Mother spent one day trying to persuade August to come with us, but he was adamant that he needed to remain in England.”

“All things considered, he might be right about that,” Dorian said. “Since he is your father’s heir. Estates have been lost for less.”

“That’s what he said,” Lenora agreed. “But Mother was not best pleased by the development.”

“Is she still upset by it?” Dorian asked.

“Oh, very much so. She wept and fussed during the whole crossing. Well, except for while she was hanging her head over a bucket. The sea was very rough, and Mother is not the best traveller.”

“I am sorry to hear she was not well. Has a return to firm ground helped at all?”

“Oh, enormously,” Lenora said carelessly. “Fortunately, not so much that she has not taken to her bed for the time being and directed me to ‘go amuse myself’.”

Dorian laughed with relief. “While not so pleasant a crossing as one might hope, that is a great deal better than I feared. Ships were coming in with dreadful tales of ice in the rigging and giant swells that were taller than mountains.”

“We spent the worst of the weather in our stateroom,” Lenora said, “so I cannot vouch for the size of the swells. There was definitely ice in the rigging. At one point, we feared we would need to pitch our luggage overboard to lighten the ship. But before that could happen, the sun came out. But we were becalmed for nearly three days before a fresh breeze sprang up.”

“What a miracle that you are here!” Dorian exclaimed. “Might I walk out with you? Perhaps buy you dinner? I’ve been frightfully worried.”

“Dinner here in the hotel, perhaps,” Lenora said. “Truth to tell, I’m a little worried about Mother. I think this whole business has fretted her more than she would like to admit. I . . . should probably see if my chaperone is up to it. She is not at all a good sailor.”

“I know it is scandalous,” Dorian said, “but let’s have a quiet dinner without them if they are both resting quietly. I’ll speak with the concierge and ask him for appropriate oversight.”

Dorian quickly rose and approached the desk. The concierge smiled warmly at Dorian. “This is the young lady, no?”

“It is!” Dorian exclaimed. “I’d like to invite her to dinner, but both her mother and her chaperone are still suffering from seasickness.”

“Ah,” the man said. “The matter of a chaperone. There is an excellent woman who has travelled here alone. She is to take a post as an instructor. Perhaps she would do?”

“Please ask her,” Dorian said. He returned to Lenora and began to relay the concierge’s words to her.

He had scarcely begun to speak when a shadow fell across them. “You need a chaperone?” a familiar voice asked.

“Summer!” Lenora exclaimed, jumping up. She looked as if she scarcely knew whether to snub her tutoress or welcome her.

“Will you accept my services tonight?” Miss Tunstall asked. “Tomorrow, I go to my new post. But I think for now, it would serve us both well.”

“To be sure,” Dorian said, with all the practiced ease he had developed while wheedling funds out of wealthy or even not-so-wealthy patrons. “Lenora, you can catch up with Miss Tunstall without your mother’s oversight, and we can all have a pleasant meal together.”

At first, Lenora looked stormy, as if ready to make a scene. But then the fatigue of travel caught up with her. “To be sure,” she said. “Yes, Miss Tunstall, for one last evening.”

“Thank you,” Summer Tunstall said gratefully. “I owe your mother a great deal. She arranged the post for me but left me to find passage.”

“So how did you . . .? Lenora asked.

“On the same ship as you,” Miss Tunstall said. “Only I travelled in steerage to save my coin.” She shuddered delicately. “Never, ever again. It was most extremely unpleasant.”

“I daresay,” Lenora agreed. “It was dreadful enough in our cabin, with Mother hovering over her chamber pot and moaning.”

“She was never a good traveller,” Miss Tunstall said.

Awkward as the moment was, after that, it was all right. They shared travel experiences over their meal, which was served a la francaise, which meant that all the dishes were placed on the table and passed around rather than served as courses. It suited the three of them very well, and they quickly caught up on events since they had last seen each other.

“So, August remained behind?” Miss Tunstall asked. “As angry as he was with Sir Francis, I am surprised that he would want to support him.”

“August was always the most forgiving of all of us,” Lenora observed. “Besides, I think he might have another reason for remaining behind. I think he might have discovered a lady to court or at least a light of love.”

“Lenora!” Miss Tunstall rebuked her. “I thought I taught you better than that. However much a reality, one never refers to . . .”

Both ladies dissolved into giggles. Dorian looked from one to the other. “I shall never, ever understand ladies,” he declared.

“As long as you know that you are off to a great start as a husband,” Miss Tunstall said. “I, for one, shall be glad to go to an establishment that is all ladies. I hope to find it far more comprehensible than living in a family house where mixed messages are the rule.”

They all sobered for a moment. Fortunately, the server arrived to clear away the main course and bring dessert.

After dessert, Miss Tunstall walked with them to the bottom of the stairs. There, she left them, retiring to the servants’ quarters.

“Will you miss her?” Dorian asked. “Can you forgive her?”

“Oddly, yes to both questions,” Lenora said. “Mother explained it all to me. I am glad that she is going to a good post, but equally glad that I shall not see her every day. It is easier to forgive something when you do not receive daily reminders of it.”

“Too true,” Dorian said, thinking of Jonathan Holt and Emma. Would he have been able to live with the daughter of a man who had made a mockery of his father’s life’s work?

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Lenora asked.

“I will call for you at the first decent hour possible,” Dorian said. “Is daybreak too soon?”

Lenora laughed. “I might be awake by then. You could send up a note with my breakfast tea.”

“Then that is what I shall do,” Dorian said. He longed to take her into his arms and kiss her right there in the hall where anyone could walk by. With great difficulty, he restrained himself, bending low over her hand and air kissing it in the French fashion. “Until morning,” he said.

“Until morning,” Lenora replied. She might have lingered longer, but Dorian could hear Lady Temple calling from inside the room, “Lenora? Where are you, daughter?”

Boldly, Lenora blew him a kiss from the tips of her fingers and vanished inside the room.

If asked, Dorian could never have told how he made his way back to his rooms. For all he knew, he floated down the stairs and was wafted there by angels. But from the comments of the boot-black who did up his shoes, he had walked back to his hostel, paying no attention at all to where he put his feet.