Beauvallet Read online

  Dona Dominica had to admit her heart assailed dangerously. A certain smile haunted her dreams, and would not be banished. Yet he was a hardy rogue, surely. She could not say what there was in him to seize her fancy; he used no courtier tricks, no elegant subtleties. You would have no dropped knee, no sighs, no fashionable languishings from Beauvallet. He would have an arm about a maid's waist before she was aware, snatch a kiss, and be off again on his adventures. Oh, merry ruffler! He was too direct, thought my lady, too swift, employed no gentle arts in his wooing. She played with the idea that he was like a strong wind, vigorous, salt-tanged. He had no repose; he must be here and there, restless, so charged with vitality that it almost seemed to brim over. See, too, his challenging eyes, wickedly inviting under the down-dropped lids! Shame! Shame that one should know an answering leap of the heart! He would swing past along the deck, a hand on his hip, careless, heedless; one was bound to watch him, willy-nilly. He might stop beside his Master a brief while; his quick, gay speech would be borne back to one in snatches on the wind; one would see him fling out a pointing hand, give a decisive shake to his neat black head, crack some jest to set the Master chuckling, and be off down the companion to mingle amongst his men.

  It seemed they held him in some esteem, no little awe. No good came of an attempt to trifle with Sir Nicholas Beauvallet. He was a leader to love, but one to fear withal. Dona Dominica, catching at new-learned English words, heard stray comments, enough to show her what Beauvallet's men thought of him. They thought him a rare jest, she gathered, and pondered over the strange mentality of these English, who spent their time in laughing. They did not behave thus in Spain.

  And Spain, with its courtly propriety, its etiquette, and its solemn grandeur, grew nearer and ever nearer. Mad days at sea were nearly done now, and adventure was coming to an end. Don Manuel, reclining on his pillows, spoke of duennas; my lady hid a shudder and turned wistful eyes towards Beauvallet. To one reared in the freedom of the New World trammels of the Old would not be welcome. Don Manuel said severely that he had permitted his daughter too great a license. Faith, the girl thought for herself, was pert, he doubted, and certainly head-strong. As witness her behaviour on board the Santa Maria. A maid surprised by piratical marauders should have stood passive, a frozen statue of martyrdom. A daughter of Spain had no business to kick, and bite, and scratch, or to brandish daggers and spit venom upon her captors. Don Manuel had been shocked indeed, but knew her well enough to forbear comment. He trusted that his sister would find a strict duenna to govern her. He had marriage plans in mind, too, and hinted as much to her. He would see her safely bestowed, he said, and drew a fine picture of her future life. Dona Dominica listened in growing horror, and escaped from her father's cabin to the free air above.

  ‘Oh!’ cried she, ‘are English ladies so hedged about, and guarded, and confined, as we poor Spaniards?’

  They were in colder latitudes, and the wind bit shrewdly. Beauvallet loosened the cloak about his shoulders, and clipped it fast about my lady, so that it fell all about her. ‘Nay, I’ll not confine you, sweet, but I shall know how to guard my treasure, don’t doubt it.’

  She drew the cloak about her, and looked up, wide-eyed. ‘Do you in England set vile duennas to watch your wives?’ she asked.

  He shook his head. ‘We trust them, rather!’

  Her dimples quivered. ‘Oh, almost you persuade me, Sir Nicholas!’ She frowned a warning as his hand flew out towards her. ‘Fie, before your men? I said “almost”, señor. Know that my father plans my marriage.’

  ‘A careful gentleman,’ said Beauvallet. ‘So, faith, do I.’

  ‘If you came, indeed, into Spain you might haply find me wed, señor.’

  A gleam came into his eyes, like a sword, she thought. ‘Might I so?’ he said, and the words demanded an answer.

  She looked away, trembled a little, smiled, frowned, and blushed. ‘N-no,’ she said.

  Too soon the day came that saw Spanish shores to the southward. Don Manuel braved the cold air on deck for a while, and followed the direction of Beauvallet's pointing finger. ‘Thereabouts lies Santander, señor. I shall set you ashore tonight.’

  The day wore swiftly to its close. Dusk came, and my lady watched Maria pack her chests. Maria stowed jewels away in a gold-bound box, and jealously counted each trinket. She could never be at ease amongst these English, but must always suspect darkly.

  My lady was seized by an odd fancy, and demanded to stow her jewels with her own hands. She took the casket to the light, and laid its contents out on the table, and debated over them with a look half rueful, half tender. In the end she chose a thumb ring of gold, too large for her little hand, too heavy for a lady's taste. She hid it in her handkerchief and quickly locked up the case that Maria might not discover the loss of one significant piece.

  In the soft darkness of the evening she flitted up on deck, a cloak wrapped about her, and her oval face pale in the dim lamplight. The ship made slow way now, the dark water lapping gently at her oaken sides. There was a little bustle on the deck; she heard the Master's voice raised: ‘Steady your helm!’ She saw Beauvallet standing under the light of a swinging lamp, with his boatswain beside him. The boatswain held a lantern, and was peering into the darkness. Far away to the south Dominica could see the little glow of lights, and knew that Spain was reached at last.

  She stole up to Beauvallet and laid a timid hand on his arm. He looked quickly round, and at once his hand covered hers where it lay on his latticed sleeve. ‘Why, child!’

  ‘I came – I wanted – I came to speak with you a minute,’ she said uncertainly.

  He drew her apart, and stood looking down at her quizzically. ‘Speak, child, I am listening.’

  Her hand came out from the shelter of her cloak; in it she held the golden ring. ‘Señor, you gave me a ring of yours to keep. I – I think you will never see me again, and so – and so I would have you take this ring of mine in memory of me.’

  The ring and the hand that held it were alike caught in a strong hold. She was swept out of the circle of light cast by the lamp above, and stood face to face with Beauvallet in the friendly darkness. She felt his arms go round her, and stood still, with her hands clasped at her breast. He held her in a tight embrace, laid his cheek against her curls, and murmured: ‘Sweetheart! Fondling!’ Madness, madness, but it was sweet to be mad just once in one's life! She lifted her face, put up a hand to touch his bronzed cheek, and gave him back kisses that were shy and very fugitive. Her senses swam; she thought she would never forget how an Englishman's arms felt, iron barriers holding one hard against a leaping heart. A shiver of ecstasy ran through her; she whispered: ‘Querida! Dear one! Do not quite forget!’

  ‘Forget!’ he said. ‘Oh, little unbeliever! Feel how I hold you: shall I ever let you go?’

  She came back to earth; she was blushing and shaken. ‘Oh, loose me!’ she begged, and seemed to flutter in his arms. ‘How may I believe that you could do the impossible?’

  ‘There is naught impossible that I have found,’ he said. ‘You shall leave me for a space, since to that I pledged my word, but not for long, my little love, not for long! Look for me before the year is out; I shall surely come.’

  A rich voice sounded close at hand. ‘Where are you, sir? They answer the signal right enough.’

  Beauvallet put the lady quickly behind him; the boatswain came to them, peering through the darkness.

  What followed passed as a dream for Dominica. There was a furtive light dipping and shining on the mainland; she escaped below decks, and saw her baggage borne away, and heard the bustle of a boat being prepared. Don Manuel sat ready, wrapped about in a fur-lined cloak, but shivering always. ‘He hath com passed it,’ Don Manuel said in quiet satisfaction. ‘He is a brave man.’

  Master Dangerfield came to fetch them in a little while; he gave an arm to Don Manuel, spoke words of cheer, but cast a regretful eye towards my lady. They came up on deck and found Beauvallet by a rope-ladder.