Close to the Wind Read online

  Awkwardly, he patted her on the back. ‘No need for scenes, girl, and no more harebrained schemes, you hear. Listen to the captain and mind what he says.’

  ‘Of course I will,’ she assured him, blinking back her tears as she stooped to pick up her bag.

  He eyed her. ‘I mean it, girlie. No more daft notions.’

  This made her laugh and she dropped a kiss on his wrinkled cheek. ‘Your grumpy manner doesn’t fool me. You’ve been like a father to me these past few days.’

  ‘Ah well, I’ve never had no children of my own that I know of, but if I do happen to have a daughter, I just hope she isn’t as pesky as you.’

  Her laughter mingled with her tears as she slipped away, so she almost missed his whispered, ‘Godspeed, girl.’

  The wharf was silent as they drew up to it in a dinghy and in minutes she and Harry were watching Pete row away into the dark. Feeling desolate at leaving Sally, where for such a short time she’d been happy, Georgiana nevertheless kept her voice light as she asked, ‘Where now?’

  Harry swung up their bags. ‘Good girl, that’s the spirit. It’s not far. We’ll be there in ten minutes or so.’

  The town was in darkness and Georgiana found it hard to make out much at all, but Harry, with his catlike eyes, had no difficulty in leading her through a maze of tiny, twisting and incredibly steep roads. Her legs were rubbery as she struggled to walk on land again and her feet slithered on the cobbles. Her head was beginning to spin when Harry shifted both bags into one hand and put an arm about her.

  ‘Here, George, lean on me. We’re nearly there.’

  ‘We’ll look strange to anyone who sees us.’

  ‘There’s no one about, but if there were, they’d think I was helping my very drunk young friend back home to bed.’

  ‘Thank you very much!’ But despite her feigned indignation, Georgiana leaned against him. It felt oddly natural to let her throbbing head rest on his shoulder. Through the thin shirt, she could feel warmth and muscle. He smelt of the sea, of the brandy he must have had with dinner, and something less tangible but distinctly male that awoke her senses with disturbing new awareness. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘I told you, a friend.’

  ‘Won’t he be surprised to be disturbed at this hour?’ Georgiana looked at all the shuttered windows. In the whole town not a single soul appeared to be awake.

  ‘She. Consuela Dias. No, she’s used to unusual hours.’

  Georgiana raised her brows but said nothing. In a few minutes Harry was rapping at the door of a small pension tucked at the end of one of the back streets. Silence. He knocked again, louder, but still with no real force so as not to wake the neighbours. An upstairs shutter was flung open and a woman’s nightcapped head looked out.

  ‘Quem e?’ The woman’s whisper sounded alert even though she’d obviously just woken.

  Harry stepped back so that he was visible and called up softly. ‘Boa noite, Consuela. It’s me.’

  ‘Harry?’ The voice was tinged with delighted surprise and Georgiana felt something twist inside.

  ‘Consuela, I have a friend here and we are in dire need of a room. Is that possible?’

  ‘Claro. Wait there.’ The shutter closed softly and in a minute the front door was opened by a beautiful woman. The cap had been flung off and Consuela’s luxuriant black hair tumbled to her waist. She’d wrapped a richly embroidered shawl around her shoulders and the candle she held lit her creamy complexion and caused her large dark eyes to glow.

  ‘Harry!’ Stepping forward, she placed a hand on each of his shoulders and stood on tiptoe to kiss him on both cheeks. She was so petite that he had to stoop to receive these salutes. Georgiana suddenly felt very large and gauche – just as she’d felt at every hated ball in England.

  ‘Ah Harry, so good to see you again, my friend. But what a strange hour to visit. Could you not wait until tomorrow to see me?’

  Her voice was dark as molasses and both caressing and teasing at the same time. Georgiana did not know whether to nurse her embarrassment or study this fascinating creature to enact her one day. Consuela arched her brows and threw a saucy look at Harry. ‘I am respectable now, you know. There is no entertainment at my little guesthouse these days.’

  Harry bowed and laughed softly. ‘Truly, it is only a bed we seek, Consuela, for my friend here. And for myself, if that is possible.’

  ‘For your young friend?’ Consuela turned and smiled at Georgiana. ‘Come into the light so I may see you, friend of Harry.’

  Georgiana stepped into the glow of the candle held aloft and for a moment Consuela surveyed her. The initial smile of welcome faded and Consuela’s eyes narrowed. With some haughtiness she turned back to the captain. ‘What is this, Harry? I told you. I am now respectable.’

  ‘No, it’s not like that at all. Let us come in, let me get the child to bed and then I will explain.’

  ‘Child?’ Though the tone was ironic, Consuela considered for a moment then nodded and waved them in. Feeling larger and clumsier by the minute, Georgiana followed their diminutive hostess into a parlour with whitewashed walls and elegant furniture.

  ‘Sit, sit,’ Consuela urged as she lit a gas lamp on the table. In the flare of light, Georgiana saw that their hostess was not as young as she first seemed. The skin on her face was soft and faint lines fanned her eyes. Still, she moved with the grace and lightness of a girl as she poured them each a glass of Madeira wine. Then she settled herself on a chair, arranging her nightdress so it fell in flattering folds about her. Georgiana noted the filmy lace that hemmed the garment and thought how the nightdress alone would have cost more than her best ball dress. This reflection did nothing to lessen her awkwardness and resentment against Harry for putting her in this position.

  ‘So, Harry, what is this about? It is not like you to bring a girl to me.’

  Harry smiled. ‘You were never one to be fooled, Consuela. My apologies for the lateness of the hour and the lack of notice, but I did not know where else to go and I know I can always count upon you.’

  This caused her to lose a little of her haughtiness and she inclined her head. Still, her eyes lingered on Georgiana who, unable to meet her gaze, stared into the ruby contents of her glass.

  ‘So,’ Consuela turned back to Harry, ‘what is your story?’

  With remarkable economy, Harry explained his flight from England, Georgiana’s mission to find her brother, the storm and the discovery of Georgiana’s true identity. Consuela did not blink or exclaim once during this recital and Georgiana wondered what Consuela’s own story might be that she was so unshockable.

  ‘Having left England with such unseemly haste, I have a few things to attend to here in Madeira – and you, my obvious sanctuary. We are throwing ourselves on your mercy,’ Harry concluded with humorous humility, but an underlying thread of sincerity.

  Consuela nodded slowly. ‘Still, you have not told me why the law was chasing you, Harry.’

  His mouth tightened and Georgiana held her breath. ‘That, Consuela, I cannot tell you. However, it appears that I’ve made a powerful enemy.’

  ‘You?’ Now Consuela was surprised. ‘It is true you like to play dangerous games, but it is not like you to make enemies. What did you do?’

  Harry leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs as he cradled his wine with both hands. For a minute he remained still, staring into the glass, then he looked up to meet Consuela’s eyes. ‘I’d rather not tell you the full story for now, to be honest,’ he said. ‘It’s a sordid business but I need to play it to the end. Will you trust me, Consuela?’

  Her lovely dark eyes searched his face. While she was obviously fond of Harry, it was also clear that she operated from her head. What she saw must have reassured her, for the last of her haughtiness fell away. ‘Of course! You are my friend and we hav
e shared many years, no?’

  ‘Yes, many years indeed,’ he said, his smile answering hers. Georgiana felt a pang of exclusion.

  ‘So,’ said Consuela turning back to Georgiana and spreading her hands wide. ‘My pension is your home. What do you need?’

  ‘Firstly, a bed for the night – two beds that is,’ he added, as her eyes went speculatively to Georgiana.

  ‘That I will do immediately, for the child,’ she stressed the word with humorous irony, ‘looks not at all well.’

  Georgiana rose, putting the almost untouched glass of port down. ‘Thank you. You are very kind.’

  Consuela inclined her head and murmured, ‘Pretty manners – a lady then, no?’

  Georgiana managed a smile. ‘No, not according to my aunt and certainly not at the moment!’

  Harry laughed and shook his head at her while Consuela’s eyes also lit with laughter. ‘I like you,’ she pronounced. ‘At first I thought you were not respectable and I, you see, now am. You are just a little crazy, I think – like Harry. Come, but be quiet for my guests are asleep.’

  Harry rose and said softly, ‘Sleep well, brat. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ The reassurance in his smile once again melted her defences. Surely no murderer could smile like that.

  Consuela led Georgiana up two flights of stairs and into a tiny bedchamber which, like the parlour, was simple yet elegant and very comfortable. The bed had a white lace cover and was piled high with a seemingly indecent number of pillows. In the corner stood a washstand with a pitcher and a bowl decorated with bright flowers.

  ‘It’s beautiful!’

  Consuela smiled. ‘I like my guests to be comfortable. Now take off your boots and I will return.’

  She disappeared out of the room, but her perfume lingered. Turning her head, Georgiana lifted one shoulder and sniffed. She definitely needed a wash before she could go near the inviting bed.

  ‘Here is a nightdress.’ Quiet as an evening breeze, Consuela wafted back into the room with a foamy white gown over her arm. ‘It will not be a good fit, but it is something. Now you must sleep. Tomorrow we will talk and you will tell me how you fooled all those men for so long.’

  There was a naughty twinkle in her eye as she slipped away, holding up a hand to stem Georgiana’s stammered thanks. As soon as the door closed, Georgiana stripped down. It felt peculiar to unbind her breasts and she shivered as the night air fell upon them. Even in Alec’s cabin, she’d not dared to fully undo her bindings – just enough to strap her breasts up firmly again. Now she washed thoroughly, relishing the freedom of being able to do so. The water was cold but the night was warm and she felt infinitely better for her ablutions. After a second’s hesitation, she slipped into the nightdress. It was clearly not one of Consuela’s for it was far too wide and only a little short on Georgiana, but still the most feminine garment she had ever worn. She twirled to make the lace flutter and mimicked Consuela’s widespread hands, her inclined head.

  ‘How lovely,’ she whispered, ‘and most respectable.’

  Chapter Eleven

  The smell of fresh coffee and hot rolls woke her. Opening her eyes, Georgiana saw Consuela put a laden tray down on the table beside the bed before crossing the room to fling the shutters wide. Sunlight painted a broad path through the room and with a start, Georgiana realised it must be quite late. She struggled into a sitting position, then winced, her head resenting the sudden movement. ‘Have I slept long?’

  Consuela smiled. In the daylight the fine lines about her eyes were more pronounced and there was a softness around her chin, but still she looked fresh and charming in a dress of rich blue over a crinoline which swayed and dipped with her movements. No sign of her disturbed night could be detected in her face. ‘You have slept a long time. I thought you might be dead, but Harry said the days have been tiring and, of course, your head is still a problem.’

  ‘Tiring? Yes, but even so, it’s unforgivable to sleep this long and I certainly never meant for you to wait on me.’

  Consuela disregarded these protestations and just laughed as she rearranged the pillows, helping Georgiana to sit up more comfortably. ‘I am feeding you here, in your room, so that my guests will not see you until you are respectable.’

  Georgiana suddenly realised the position she was in – they all were in – and she coloured. Consuela, seeing her blush, nodded. ‘Bem, now eat.’

  Shyly, Georgiana turned her attention to the breakfast tray now placed in her lap. Everything tasted wonderful, especially in sharp contrast to Alec’s cooking.

  ‘You like that?’ asked Consuela. ‘My, but you English girls can eat so much!’ She smoothed the folds of her dress down her tiny form. ‘Now, I have a surprise for you.’

  She whisked out of the room and in no time returned with a maid, both of them laden with clothes. Georgiana’s eyes widened and she began to protest, but Consuela cut her short. ‘Harry says the masquerade is over and I must agree with him. It does not do to be a man any longer.’

  ‘But what about New Zealand?’

  ‘But nothing. Harry will have a plan – he always does – and if he thinks now you should be a woman, you may be sure he is right.’

  This faith in Harry’s judgment caused some resentment to burn in Georgiana’s breast, but before she could protest further, Consuela was laying out the clothes, explaining them. ‘They are a leetle old from my past. I had girls, you know.’ She turned and faced Georgiana who looked politely interested. ‘That was a long time ago, but it made me money to be respectable. I kept the dresses because who knows how life goes. Maybe I need them again one day – and see, now I do!’ She was watching Georgiana who, though puzzled, smiled and Consuela continued. ‘Some of the men liked the governess who, by good fortune, was tall like you. They liked being reminded of what bad boys they were.’ Georgiana still didn’t grasp what Consuela was talking about so pointedly. ‘Others liked the young maid. Some preferred only stockings and corset.’

  Suddenly – horribly! – Georgiana understood. Her shock must have shown in her face, for Consuela said, ‘Ah, now you know. Muito bem. We must understand one another, you and I. It is best that we do.’

  Feeling shaky, Georgiana pushed the tray away. Consuela, still watching, nodded as if to confirm something and then moved forward to put a hand on Georgiana’s arm as she drew the sheets up as if in protection.

  ‘No, you are safe. Now I am sorry. As I say, I am respectable these days and I wanted to make sure you were not – not—’ she stopped, her English failing her in this delicate situation. ‘My guests, you see,’ she said by way of explanation. ‘I cannot have them shocked.’

  For a minute Georgiana stared up into the apologetic, lovely dark eyes as a myriad of thoughts bubbled in her head. What would her aunt think? What an appalling situation she had got herself into. How infamous of Harry to have brought her to such a woman. Impossible to stay under this roof, and as for wearing the clothes – never! But as these thoughts jostled for expression, she looked past Consuela and her glance fell on her discarded boots and trousers. Consuela followed her look and smiled.

  ‘You see,’ she pointed out, ‘I am not a lady, but I am respectable, while you …’ She left the sentence dangling.

  The absurdity of the situation suddenly hit Georgiana. That she, Miss Bellingham of Ashton Hall should have to prove her respectability to a – well – to the sort of woman of whom she’d only ever heard the vaguest of references! Bubbles of hysteria began to rise in her and as she relaxed her grip on the sheets, all her pent-up, confused feelings of fear and outrage gave way to a peal of laughter. Consuela began laughing too, sitting down on the bed so they could enjoy their merriment together.

  ‘Oh senhora,’ said Georgiana weakly, trying to compose herself, ‘forgive me for putting you in such a position.’

  Consuela made one of her graceful flying gesture
s. ‘It is nothing. I am happy to help a friend of Harry’s. Now we must fix this dress. You may put it on behind the screen.’

  Georgiana felt bashful rising in the too short nightdress and she retreated behind the exquisitely carved screen in the corner, but Consuela, oblivious of any embarrassment, chatted as she passed first the undergarments, then the crinoline and petticoats and lastly the dress over the screen.

  ‘Do not fear, the chemise, corset and drawers are new. I sent the maid out early this morning to a little shop where no questions are ever asked. I guessed your size. I hope they fit. The crinoline as you see is modest – as it should be for a young lady. It may be a little short for you are so tall, but no matter. Now come out and I will help you.’

  Feeling shy and clumsy to be in women’s clothes again, Georgiana came from behind the screen. Head to one side, Consuela looked her up and down, then smiled and nodded.

  ‘The blue is very good for your eyes. They take their colour from your clothes, yes?’

  ‘Yes. By themselves they are just a boring grey.’

  ‘Grey is a good colour. They go blue with one dress, green with another. You are lucky. Me, my eyes always are brown.’ She sighed in mock despair then went back to the task at hand. ‘The dress is too loose and too short. How tall and slim you are. I can see how you could be a boy.’

  ‘But you knew immediately.’

  Consuela smiled mischievously. ‘Ah, but I know men.’

  Georgiana could feel herself flushing again but had to smile too. Consuela was a most remarkable woman.

  The maid was summoned and a small bath was brought up to the room. Behind the screen Georgiana had the luxury of washing in hot water brought up in steaming bucketfuls, while Consuela and the maid made hasty alterations to the governess as Consuela continued to call the dress. When Georgiana tried it on again, it fitted perfectly. She tried to express her thanks, but Consuela just laughed at her.