ROMANTIC VENTURE

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Spring blossomed at Ravenshead, and the air was heavy with the scents and sounds of the melting season. For some time Maurette had known that she carried Dominic's babe within her body. And though, for the first few weeks of that knowledge, she had felt tired and unwell, she now had an energy and a vitality that she had never before experienced.

The Castle Ravenshead had taken on a new luster from Maurette's tireless ministrations. Wood glowed with layers of wax, and windows, polished to a high sheen, admitted the bright springtime sun. Embrasures had been swept, carpets laid, and candles installed. Maurette had even made forays into some of the upper chambers and found in the neglected rooms some old pieces that when rubbed and polished, showed themselves to be fine antique furniture. Geoff was always at her side, hauling heavy chairs and rolled-up carpets down dusty staircases and through mildewed passages. With his sleeves rolled above his elbows, he hand-rubbed beeswax into the wood and beat centuries of dust from carpets and hangings. Ben admonished them both that they must take their ease.

"Especially now," he said one evening when he and Maurette were seated alone before her chamber fire.

Her eyes widened. "You know, Ben?" she said with astonishment, for she had told no one.

"I have known for weeks," he said, drawing his shawl around his thin shoulders and wiping his dripping nose with a square of linen. He nodded and smiled at her look of disbelief. "I have known, in truth, since we returned from Surrey."

"You could not have known," Maurette said pettishly. "Even I did not know it."

Ben laughed softly. "'Tis not for nothing I call myself Doctor Tremain. I have kept a close watch on you, Maurette, and 'tis my suggestion that you cease these forays into damn, musty turrets. 'Tis also my suggestion," he said gently, "that you allow me to examine you. If my calculations are correct, you are in the fourth month of your term. We should make certain that you are progressing normally.'

Maurette bit her lip reflectively. "I suppose that you are right, Ben," she conceded.

"You know I am," he stated, eyeing her levelly. "And you know I am correct also in my next suggestion. You, dear Maurette, must advise Dominic of this circumstance."

Maurette gave him a startled glance and then looked into the rosy fire that danced on the hearth. "Of course you are correct, Ben," she said softly, "but I have not been able to bring myself to it. He has seemed so happy since our return. I have no idea what his reaction might be to such news.

"Every man wants a son, Maurette," Ben said encouragingly. "He even wants a daughter, if that is all there is to be," he chuckled.

Maurette arched an elegant brow in his direction, and he splayed his hand toward her.

"I but jest, Maurette," he said soothingly. "Any man would welcome the thought of a child."

"And what of the reality of one, Ben? You forgot that before six months hence, I might be gone from Ravenshead. Do you imagine that I would leave a child here to be cared for by the sullen Lydia? And do you imagine Dominic Warbrooke allowing a son of his to be taken from him?" She smiled ruefully. "What a battle we would be in for, if he tried to keep the child. Perhaps we should all pray for a daughter."

"Perhaps," Ben said quietly, "we should all pray for a wedding."

Maurette nodded her assent. "There was a time at Nonsuch when he was about to propose such a thing," she said reflectively, "but Dominic has not mentioned it since. And, in truth, Ben, I do not wish a marriage based on a man's obligation or his sense of parental fulfillment," She leaned toward the doctor. "There was a time I would have welcomed a proposal of marriage from Dominic Warbrooke. But now…" Her voice trailed off.

"Do you imagine," Ben said gently, "that Dominic would, in truth, wed you out of a sense of obligation?" He shook his head. "Nay, Maurette. Oh I must agree with you that he might attempt to keep his son, but he would never take a woman to wife for that purpose. Beyond that, my dear," Ben added warmly, "'tis a fact that is perceived by all; Dominic Warbrooke loves you, purely and simply. I have known the man for many years. He has bedded many women, but he has loved only you."

"Will you be truthful with me if I ask you a question, Ben?" When Ben arched an eyebrow at such a query, she smiled and said, "Of course, you will. 'Tis of a personal nature, my inquiry, and is why I asked the question." She paused and leaned back on the settee. Lowering her eyes, she said. "Lydia led me to believe some time ago that I was not the first to be brought here by Dominic. She intimated that here had been others." She looked up to find Ben smiling.

"Dominic has brought no other here, Maurette. He had never even wished to. I believe that I can make such a statement because I know the man. He has kept this place a haven for Lydia. He would never have risked detection of his sister's secret for a mere dalliance. When he brought you here, I knew the truth of this circumstance. He loves you." Now it was Ben's turn to lean confidentially forward. "You must needs know about Lydia. As you have perceived, she is a jealous woman-of this house, of her privacy, of her servants, and…" he added with a guarded smile, "she is jealous of Dominic."

Maurette uttered a small sound, but Ben went on.

"Oh, she is not jealous of him in the manner that a woman is jealous of a man. Jealousy is a perverse emotion at best, and Lydia's jealousy is a travesty of that perversity. I have always sensed that she made up the story of her father's 'ailing mind,' for that old man was as right-minded as a --man can be. Perhaps she did it to get Dominic's attention.

"In truth, we often sojourned to Ravenshead when the old lord was alive. After his unfortunate death, we rarely visited, and Lydia seemed contented-- enough -until you -appeared on -the scene. Perhaps she fears that Dominic's love for you will take him away from her." He shook his head.

"Perhaps we shall never know the mystery of Lydia Hamilton. One thing, however. I believe that you are correct in one assertion. 'Twould not do to leave your babe in Lydia's care. The woman has traversed the road from a lonely widow to an unstable creature whom I trust not."

"You have eased my mind, Ben, while at the same time given me other worries," Maurette said, chewing on her lower lip. "I, too, have perceived Lydia to be unstable, but I would deem -her harmless."

Ben shrugged. "I shall pray that your assessment is true," he said. "In the meantime, as long as I am praying anyway, I shall add my prayers for a proper marriage."

"A proper marriage, Ben," said Maurette with a smile, "not one based on obligation or a sense of duty."

They both laughed.

The peaceful environs were shattered as Geoffrey and Dominic burst into the room. Dominic moved to Maurette and swept her up in his arms. He applied a sweet kiss to her lips and then gave her news that he knew she had been hoping to hear.

"Your desire to entertain in this house is about to t fulfilled," he said. "Get your friend Geoff, here, to help you with final preparations, for we are to have guests at last, little one."

Maurette looked at him in puzzlement. "When, Dominic," she inquired breathlessly, "and whom are we to entertain?"

"We shall be hosting none other than Britain's brightest star, Sir Francis Drake," he said with pride.

Maurette gasped.

"And well you should be awed, sweet, for that great seaman will be here within the week. Are you not happy?" Dominic asked, uncertainty clear in his tone.

"Oh, Dominic, of course I am happy." Maurette smiled weakly.

Ben snorted. "You might have given her a less formidable guest to practice on before you dropped Sir Francis in her lap."

"'Tis thrilling news, Dominic," Maurette said with forced brightness as she looked into his pride-filled eyes. "We shall have everything at the ready, shall we not, Geoff."

Geoffrey smiled ruefully. "Of course we shall, my lady," he said. In truth, he knew what thoughts must have been flying through Maurette's startled brain at the moment and wondered that his captain and friend of many years could not see it. Maurette had thought to entertain a few neighbors, and now she was expected to welcome a world-famous explorer to her table. He shook his head and eyed Maurette fondly. Whatever her dismay, she was putting up a brave show. Such a courageous lady, Geoffrey laughed to himself. Sweet fortune had truly smiled on Dominic Warbrooke.

The days passed in a whirl of anticipatory preparations. Even the usually stolid Jonathan was ruffled and intolerant of any behavior suggesting vacillation on the part of the servants. He bustled throughout the castle with astonishing zeal. The servants who were just recovering from Maurette's cleaning project found themselves caught up in Jonathan's seething flurry of activity. Each morn, he would attend Maurette, and she would give him a list of what must be done. By evening all would have been accomplished, and the Servants, to a person, would be exhausted. Jonathan spared no one. Kitty was set to polishing silver. Ruth, the laundress, mended carpets. The buttery maid mixed herbs to be set in small pots through-out the lower chambers.

No one was spared, least of all Maurette. She supervised and participated in the preparation of the apartments where Sir Francis and his entourage would stay. She and Geoff cleaned several small chambers and saw to their decoration until Ben, who had been installed as official wood gatherer, insisted that Maurette cease her demanding schedule. Maurette agreed, but only to the extent that she would not participate in moving furniture or lifting heavy objects.

Ben had low benches installed outside of every chamber where Maurette was working and bade her supervise the preparations from there. And, though Maurette hated inactivity when there was so much to be done, she knew that Ben was right. She had been feeling the strain of the past few days and welcomed the enforced rest. Geoff, who had also been concerned, was happier too and worked twice as hard carrying out her instructions.

During the few days before Drake's arrival, Maurette had seen Lydia several times from afar. The lady never approached the frenzied activity, but watched at a distance either from a shadowed gallery or behind a lattice postern. Maurette felt a great sympathy well up inside her for Lydia, for after all, this was her home. For her sake, Maurette had seen to it that all but one turret stair was closed to the chapel. She understood Dominic's apprehension concerning his sister's religious secret but felt sure that Lydia's private life would never be in danger of discovery. She longed to tell the older woman that no threat existed for her, but whenever Maurette approached her, Lydia would vanish.

On the eve of Drake's arrival Maurette had Lydia summoned to her chamber.

The room was a swirl with gowns and ribbons an lengths of pearls and other gems to be wound through Maurette's hair. Kitty and she perused the untidy mass of clothing and accessories.

"Pray you are as efficient as I have perceived you to be, Kitty," Maurette moaned. "I can make no sense of all this."

Kitty laughed brightly and attacked the heaps of jewels and gowns. The young woman loved a challenge.

At that moment, Lydia entered and stood just inside the doorway, eyeing the fevered scene with disgust.

"You wished to see me, Maurette," she said flatly.

Maurette turned and spotted Lydia. "Do come inside," she said lightly. "I cannot offer you a seat, but I do want to speak with you, Lydia."

The other woman moved into the chamber.

"'Twas my wish that you should not concerned the visit by Sir Francis," she continued as Lydia looked stonily into her eyes "I wanted you to know, Lydia, you are well protected in this house as always. Nothing has changed in that regard. And, of course, Dominic an I pray that you will attend us each night at dinner."

Lydia said nothing. The bitterness in her eyes scalded Maurette and made her shudder.

"I mean you no harm, Lydia," she said softly.

"Do you not?" asked Lydia.

"Whether or not you believe me, I have never meant you harm. It has only been my wish to become a part of Dominic's life."

Lydia regarded Maurette levelly, then turned her eyes on the rest of the room, making Maurette feel self-conscious about the disarray. But Lydia merely stared and said nothing. Then, without a word, the woman left the chamber.

Maurette sighed "I tried, Kit," she said sadly.

"Yes, you did," stated Kitty. Maurette moved to the girl and embraced her.

"Thank you, Kit, for being my friend." She smiled, as Kitty's soft brown eyes regarded her seriously.

"'Tis not a difficult thing to be a friend to one so gentle," she said solemnly. "Now, please, my lady," she said mournfully, "you must needs decide on what you will wear for Sir Francis's visit. Both young women resignedly attacked the pile of clothes.

"I must tell you this," the distinguished voyager was saying, "The ships that sail under the flag of England are the best armed in the world. Beyond that, the invincible' Armada is, in truth, already crippled. I have personally set fire to at least one hundred of their most valued galleons, thus delaying the Spanish attack for almost a year."

The listeners regarded Sir Francis Drake in rapt awe. He was a handsome man, Maurette noted. A pile of dark curls covered his head, and a well trimmed beard of a lighter color fashionably sheathed his chin and jaw. He wore a high ruffed collar, and his clothes were of the richest fabrics with jeweled buttons and shiny epaulets that signaled the man's wealth. It was rumored that Sir Francis had enriched the royal coffers to an immodest degree, but it was obvious that not all his money went to his queen.

Dinner had progressed without incident, though Maurette was sorry Lydia had not joined them. When the company moved back to the withdrawing room for brandy, Maurette felt a vague discomfort at being the only woman there and at realizing that the men would probably be more comfortable without her presence. She detected no reticence in the men's talk, however, and decided that it was her own anxieties that caused her disquietude and nothing any of the men had indicated. Women were not usually welcomed in such circles, but as she was fascinated by the conversation and Dominic was eyeing her pridefully and in no way indicating that she should absent herself, she shrugged off her discomfort and listened contentedly to the talk.

"Tell us of the Spanish strength, Sir Francis," Dominic said as he lowered himself onto the small sofa next to Maurette.

"The heart of the Spanish Armada," said Sir Francis, "is a mere twenty Portuguese and Castilian galleons carrying no more than fifty-two guns. There are, perhaps, four Italian gallowses and less than forty merchant ships. Do you know what makes them seem invincible?" he asked, his eyes twinkling roguishly. "I shall tell you. 'Tis their great size and bulk. Some have main timbers four and five feet thick, and that is the very reason they are so vulnerable. Why, the ocean groans beneath their weight!" He laughed. "Oh, they look imposing and dangerous, but they are, in truth; clumsy. 'Twould require a hurricane to move them. The commander of this ponderous force is the equally ponderous Medina Sidonia. He is as unseaworthy as his ships, which were designed, I should add, for the smooth waters of the Mediterranean and not for our stormy oceans.

"My cousin, Sir John Hawkins," he went on pridefully, has designed and modified our own force to the extent that we now sail the fastest and most perfectly proportioned vessels in the world. They are very nearly unsinkable. Sir John has done away with the towering structure above the main deck of the traditional warship and has leveled off the decklines. Our ships are now lighter, have more numerous guns, and are thus more agile and more deadly. Unlike the Spanish, we know that this is a sea war and not a land war at sea."

"'Tell us, Vice Admiral," interjected Geoffrey, "how does Lord Admiral Howard perceive our chances against the Spanish?"

Sir Francis leaned forward. "He has assured Her Majesty that the best ships in the world are hers to command. Further, he has every faith that our ships are manned by the finest sailors in the world. The raids upon our ships and shorelines are as needle points in a boar's hide. If the Spanish attack us-and Charles Howard is convinced that they will-we will defeat them."

Sir Francis accepted another draught of brandy and leaned back in his chair. He smiled in Maurette's direction. "I pray that I have assured our female listener that she need not fear for home and hearth."

Maurette smiled. She lowered her eyes at the intent perusal of the males. If she felt any fear, it was for Dominic, and she wished that he was more retiring in his ways. In truth, she wished that he was more like the unambiguous Gregory; it would have eased her mind if Dominic had a bad back. She mentioned none of this to the distinguished Vice Admiral of the navy.

"I wonder what has brought you to your high position, Sir Francis," she said tranquilly. Maurette was ever aware that the type of man who was now so comfortable with his present status, as was Sir Francis Drake, was ever eager to talk of his beginnings. Drake laughed and toasted his beautiful young hostess.

"I was, in fact, a purser working my way to becoming a respectable privateer, when I met your grandfather, Lord Audley, and his remarkable first mate, Lady violet." He enjoyed hugely the widening of Maurette's eyes. "Yes," he added with a broad grin. "I knew the illustrious couple; I had neither Jason's connections nor his good fortune to have engaged the attention of such a lovely woman as Your dear grandmother. And so it took me a long time to obtain my heart's desire. I wanted to view the greatest ocean in the world. But when I did that, I then desired something more. And so I sailed around the world, as Dominic well knows, with the Spanish nipping at my heels."

"And what is your heart's desire now?" Maurette Inquired.

"To beat the Spanish;" he said gently. "And with Dominic's help, I shall."

"My curiosity is well satisfied, Sir Francis, and now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I shall retire." She stood, and Dominic rose also to escort her to her chamber.

"Please, give my regards to your glorious grandmother," Sir Francis said. Assured the distinguished man that she would do so, she left the withdrawing room.

When Dominic returned, a solemn air had taken over the company. He refilled the men's goblets and moved to the fire, which seethed and cracked loudly in the silent chamber.

Sir Francis finally broke the ominous silence. "I must speak of less pleasant things, Dominic," he said significantly. "I would not frighten your lady, and so I have saved this news till last." All attention was riveted on the visiting mariner. "There is one man who can guarantee our defeat of the Spanish. His name is Frederigo Giambelli. He has invented an evil improvisation called the hell-burner or fire ship. 'Tis a vessel that detonates itself on contact with an enemy ship." All were silent as Drake continued on the use of this hateful weapon.

"We must have Giambelli to supervise the outfitting of these ships," he said. "I need someone to go to Italy and bring him back here." No one spoke.

"The ships must be covered with pitch and ignited and aimed toward the enemy with exact precision. These maneuvers must be carried out in darkness, and the few men crewing the ships must know exactly when to abandon them. Guns filled with powder and double-shot will be left aboard the ships to detonate when the pitch fires grow hot enough. To attain the fullest effectiveness of these ships, we need Giambelli. Beyond that, I must seek volunteers to captain and crew the vessels."

Drake took a long pause. He targeted Dominic finally. "I am offering one of my own ships to be sacrificed, but I have no men to crew it once ft has been equipped as a hell-runner." Again Drake was silent.

Finally, Dominic spoke. "'Twould seem, Sir Francis, that your mission here is twofold." Drake nodded. "You need men to travel to Italy to bring Giambelli to England, and you need a captain and crew for your ship."

Drake nodded curtly. "The two hundred ton Thomas will make a formidable weapon, but it must needs be handled by men who know exactly what they are doing. I cannot entrust such a deadly armament to just any sailor. That is why, Lord Warbrooke," he said evenly, "I have come to you."

"I understand," Dominic said tersely.

Into the night, the men spoke in hushed tones of what needed to be done and decided that Geoffrey and Dominic would ride out with Drake on the morrow. Cautioned that absolute secrecy must attend their mission, they knew the spiriting of Giambelli from Italy was both dangerous and potentially useful to the enemy. The Spanish would give much to have either the man or; at the very least, the knowledge of his presence in England.

Dominic and Geoffrey understood well the need for uncompromising discretion.

Ben was deeply relieved when asked to remain at Ravenshead. Having no fear for his own safety, he recognized that Maurette needed him more than ever now. He gave Dominic the name of a young apprentice with whom he had worked in London to replace him as ship's doctor on the Raven.

That night Dominic embraced Maurette in the circle of his arms and told her of the journey he must make but not of its purpose. He also told her of the strong possibility of a Spanish attack on English shores but not of his role in the fighting.

Maurette listened and understood his inability to explain all to her. She accepted that Dominic's restraint did not represent a reluctance on his part to share the details of his mission but was a necessity for the purpose of security. She shuddered at the thought of his entering battle, but he assured her that on his return from his mission, he would satisfy any curiosity she had concerning that circumstance. Dominic could not bring himself to tell her of the danger he would face as the captain of a hell-burner. He did not, in truth, know if he wanted to think of it himself at the moment.

As he held Maurette's supple ripeness to his hard length, Dominic Warbrooke for the first time in his life, was not looking forward to the commencement of a great adventure.