~ Eight ~

 

 

LETTY AWOKE TO FIND THE sun streaming through her window, illuminating her small cabin. She sat up, shivered, and saw her fire had burned out. Wrapping the blanket around herself, she ran across to the porthole, stood on tiptoe, and gazed anxiously out, but from her room, she couldn’t see much more than the dark sea. She hurriedly washed with cold water, brushed her curls, dressed, stuck on her velvet cap, threw her greatcoat on to hide her body, and took up her kid gloves. Max had been racing around her feet, excited simply because she was. She scooped him up and made her way to Bel’s cabin.

No one answered her knocking, so she made her way up to the upper deck, where she found Charles in the midst of tipping a young sailor for seeing to their horses.

“Charles…is this Calais? Are we here in Calais? When did we arrive? Where is Bel? Are we going ashore?”

Charles laughed and answered, “Yes, we have arrived in Calais, and the coach has already been disembarked, so are you ready? Shall I send someone for your overnight gear?”

“Oh yes, thank you. It is all packed, for to tell you the truth, I fell asleep in my shirt sleeves,” Letty said breathlessly as she looked around at the bustling seaport ahead.

He laughed and patted her shoulder. “It is no wonder, after the ordeal we put you through. Really, child, I do think it would be better if you would travel the remainder of the journey comfortably situated in the coach with Heckson. You could pretend to be asleep, and thereby avoid conversation with him.”

Letty felt the color leave her face as she stood frozen in place. “No. Please don’t suggest that to Bel. Please. I so want to be with …all of you.”

He said nothing for a long moment, and she rather thought there was a strange look on his face before he said, “Right then, as you wish.”

Letty had set Max down, and the pup, thoroughly delighted with the strange new sounds and world, began taking a tour of the yacht. Letty looked around for him, and when he did not come to her call, she began to search the length and breadth of the ship in no little agitation. A sudden panic seized her as she thought he might have fallen overboard, and she screamed out his name as she ran towards the poop deck.

The viscount came to her call, smiling as he said, “What the deuce are you going on about, little one?”

“I cannot find my Max…Bel…I can’t find him,” she cried out.

It was at this moment the puppy arrived, his tail and body wagging exuberantly. She bent and scooped him up, cooing to him all the while as he rewarded her with a bout of wet kisses.

It was then the viscount found himself moved by an odd sensation. A feeling tingled through his veins, and he nearly reached out to stroke Letty’s face, but said roughly instead, “Right, we have the pup, so come along, don’t dawdle there with him, Letty. We have things to do.” He frowned and reached. “Here, give me the ragamuffin, for he will be far more comfortable in the coach.”  

“Oh, but…” Letty started to argue as she watched the viscount march off with her pet and place him inside the coach with Heckson.

“You do want him comfortable?” Charles said softly at her side.

“Oh yes…but,” she started.

“Smell that fresh bread,” he interrupted. “Are you hungry?”

“Very,” she said as she took a whiff of the fresh scent on the air. “This very port was used during their revolution, wasn’t it? Nonpareils risked their lives to save some of the aristocracy from losing their heads.”

“Indeed, the Reign of Terror, and the feared guillotine, was a dangerous and sad time,” Charles agreed.

As they made their way to their waiting horses, Letty heard the sounds of the French language with pleasure. She was able to translate, though it took her a moment to adjust. She was thankful she had at least been taught the language. She had practiced it with Bel all through the years, then with Bel’s mother, who was ever happy to speak the pretty language with her.

It didn’t take long before they had mounted their horses and made their slow progress down the narrow, cobbled streets. Fitz and Bel had taken the lead, and Letty watched Bel’s back, wondering if he was annoyed with her. He had scarcely said a word, and besides that, she was starving and wondering if they would stop to eat.

All at once, Letty stopped her horse and called to Charles, “Look! Just look…” She pointed at a gown in a window that had caught her attention and caused her to go into woops of admiration.

Belfort turned and shook his head, and finally said, “Little one, do hush. Don’t you realize, boys don’t stop to ooh, aah, and gape at fripperies and gowns?”

“That is not exactly so,” Fitz stuck in thoughtfully, ever punctilious in these matters. He was by now admiring the creation in the window as well. “Not only do our own dandies pride themselves on good taste in both women’s and their own fashions, but I am told the French incroyables do so as well. Frenchmen are very fastidious about their ladies’ style of dress and often shop with them. In fact, Bel, it puts me in mind of a story I had recently heard about Boney’s instituting the new fashion for women in Paris.”

Bel stared blankly at his cousin for a moment while Charles interjected, “Really, Fitzy, how came that about?”

“Well, it seems that last Season all the fashionable Parisian ladies, including Josephine, were decked out in those Grecian robes—made of the flimsiest materials, quite transparent, and Boney, being jealous over his bride and a natural disgust for English organza, decided to put it to an end. One evening, Boney said, as loud as you please, “Gentlemen, we must build up the fire and quickly, for do you not see, our ladies are quite naked!” It was then that the trend immediately turned to silks.

Bel listened with some interest to this revelation, in spite of himself, before he grinned wickedly and said, “Devilish thing. What sort of fellow would cover up all that luscious beauty? Now, just think what we will be missing.”

Charles chuckled, Fitz agreed, and only Letty ventured a dissent. “But, Bel, surely one would not wish to have his wife…or even a woman he favored, wear transparent gowns and parade herself thusly? Surely Josephine must lead the fashionables, and Napoleon must have made the comment with that in mind.”

“She is right there,” Fitz put in. “Quite right. If there was a Lady Fitz, I wouldn’t want everyone and his brother to be gaping at her through her clothes.”

Much struck with this aspect, both Bel and Charles agreed, and Letty said, “Are we going to eat soon? I am ever so hungry.”

Bel smiled at her and said, “Yes, little one, and I have to say, I don’t know where you put all the food you have been devouring, for you are ever so thin…”

“Oh, am I too thin?” she asked worriedly.

“No, I find you…perfect,” Bel answered quietly. “In every way.”

Under this compliment and his warm smile, Letty beamed. Could she be happier? No…well, yes, if she had Max in the satchel on the saddle with her!