"Captain Ramage must miss his new wife," she said, her voice carefully flat.
"Yes. It's a terrible worry for him, not knowing if she's alive or not."
"Alive?" She sounded shocked and he saw her glance across the table at Ramage, who was talking to her brother. "Why, has she been ill?"
Quickly, before the whispered conversation was noticed by the others, Southwick told her about the Brest escape and how Lady Sarah had left for England in the Murex brig, and how Ramage had learned in Barbados that the Murex had never arrived in England.
As the old man told her the story, Alexis realized the depth of his feeling for both Nicholas and this daughter of the Marquis of Rockley. She longed to quiz him about Lady Sarah, but if they continued whispering everyone would notice. Why had Nicholas not mentioned the Murex business when he told them he was married? Had he in fact told Sidney?
So Southwick had "mistaken him for dead" more than half a dozen times. That meant that each time he had been so badly wounded that he was unconscious. There were two small scars on his brow, and a tiny circle of white hair on his head which Sidney said was where there was another wound. How many times, she wondered, could a man be wounded badly enough to be "mistaken for dead" before eventually being wounded so badly that he died - or was killed instantly?
It was curious how (even when he was just sitting there, a hand playing idly with a long-stemmed glass) he seemed to be the centre of the room. Sidney once showed her how a knife blade affected a compass needle, pulling it round by an invisible (and, as far as she was concerned, inexplicable) force and holding it there until the knife was removed. Nicholas seemed to have that effect, and it was not just because he was a handsome man: no, if anything that would tend to make other men jealous, but with Nicholas he seemed to have a magnetic hold. She was not sure, remembering her own comparison of a minute or two earlier, whether he was the compass needle or the knife, but just by being in the room he seemed to dominate it without any of the eccentricities of dress, loud voice, affected accent or manner that some men (lesser men, she realized) adopted to make themselves stand out in a crowded room. No, he had a quiet voice, and a naval uniform reduced everyone to the same fashion. No mustard-yellow waistcoats, gaudy green cravats, absurdly patterned coats ... No extravagant gestures. Then suddenly she realized what it was.
Captain Ramage - Nicholas - was sure of himself. Not cocksure, like so many of the young men who seemed to haunt London's most fashionable drawing rooms; not dogmatic like so many of the older men, especially disappointed politicians. No, Nicholas was just sure of himself. Sure in the social sense - his background and title meant he could mix with whomever he liked without feeling uncertain. Sure in the naval, or professional sense: he was at a very early age (maddening that she could not discover exactly how old) a famous frigate captain. Mr Southwick had given more than a hint that his naval promotion was due to coolness and bravery; the influence of his father, Admiral the Earl of Blazey, may well have been a disadvantage.
The purser was at her elbow, asking in a whisper if everything was satisfactory, and she assured him it was, and as soon as he had left the saloon, Sidney was standing beside her.
"At this point the ladies withdraw," he said, "and leave the gentlemen to their cigars."
"They do indeed," Alexis agreed. "I'll follow them . . ." Sidney Yorke knew he was beaten and with a grin he turned to the men. "We must forget the social niceties, I'm afraid: my sister was brought up among savages ..."
"Only one," Alexis retorted, "and that was my brother, and the only manners he has, I regret to say, are those I've taught him."
"It must have been an uphill struggle," Ramage said. "But as an hostess you more than make up for his deficiencies."
"Hear, hear!" Southwick said gruffly, followed by Aitken, who was still slightly out of his depth, finding the mixture of a formal meal and the easy informality of old friends hard to follow. He knew that only himself, Paolo and Mr Yorke's sister had not sailed together in the Post Office packet, and he now appreciated for the first time that it had been a desperate business, with Britons committing treason.
The Yorkes, Aitken now saw, were not just "trade": he had picked up enough of the social rules and regulations to know that "society" as typified by the Marquis of Rockley, for example, who was Mr Ramage's father-in-law, would not normally mix with "trade", in this case a shipowner. But it was now very clear that Mr Yorke and Mr Ramage were extremely good friends and Mr Yorke was from an old family and descended from the famous Ned Yorke, who, a century and a half ago, led the Buccaneers and later became the most powerful man in Jamaica (and probably in the whole West Indies) - certainly the man most feared by the Spaniards on the Main. And Mr Yorke was his several greats nephew. How many of that old Ned Yorke's pieces of eight and Jamaica plantations were still in the family? Both brother and sister had that ease of manner that came with wealth, and they both had the good taste and restraint that came from good breeding. Aitken realized that somehow he had learned while serving with Mr Ramage how to distinguish all this. He knew well enough that he had learned from Mr Ramage a good deal of seamanship and all he knew about sea warfare, but he had not (until this moment) realized he had also learned something about society. He did not live "in society" naturally, but he had discovered that the real society (as opposed to the nouveau riche) was quick to open its doors to men of ability. The door stayed shut to those who knocked on it with a bouquet of pretensions, but it was flung wide open for men like Southwick: brave and honest men who were recognized as being more at home with a sword and pistol than cut glass and spotless napery.
Aitken was just realizing that Mr Ramage had been unconsciously showing him how to open some of the social doors, when he saw the door of the saloon open and one of the ship's officers signalled to Mr Yorke, who immediately left his seat, spoke to the man, and came back to Mr Ramage.
"Sorry, Nicholas, but the Calypso's hoisted a signal with our number over it, so I presume it is for you." He described the flags.
"They've sighted a strange sail," Ramage said. "Well, it's time we made our farewells." He walked round the table. "The memory of today's visit will last a longtime, thanks to our hostess. I'm afraid we have very plain fare in the Calypso, but the warmth of our welcome will - I hope - make up for the culinary deficiencies." He kissed Alexis's hand and led the way to the door, followed closely by Aitken, who saw that the Emerald's officer had already called the Calypso's boat's crew.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ramage was already settling down in the boat's sternsheets as Jackson began giving orders to the men at the oars when he saw the Calypso fill her backed foretopsail and start to run down towards the Emerald.
"Mr Wagstaffe's going to make it easy for us," he commented to Jackson. "He'll come across the Emerald's stern and heave-to to leeward of us."