Roses and Flames

Chapter 6

Patrick remained unfazed by the manner in which his benefactor was speaking to him. So he went ahead and defended himself.

“On the contrary, Sir. On most ships, they are forced by a scarcity of skill to make do with any willing man. While they often appoint the carpenter’s mate for the job, no one wants to be the man’s first patient. I am certain that both the Captain and the crew appreciated my help. I saved more limbs than I took. I gained experience with diseases that I might have never seen had I remained on the land. Ashore. There were some tropical fevers that were quite challenging. The time not spent in action was spent in study. There are many hours in normal running of the ship that can be devoted to education.”

“Huuuurrmmph,” His guardian’s foul mood turned to resignation, when presented with reasonable opposition.” If you could find no other way to get sufficient experience then I suppose that it had to do.”

“And it was quite far away,” Patrick added,” subtly colouring the words.” When I left you, you encouraged me to travel.”

“That is true.” Now Wentworth was circumspect, which might be as close to Patrick could get to approval.” And you have made no plans towards marriage? I encouraged you to do that as well.”

“Not as yet, Sir. There was little opportunity, when so in totally in the company of men. But I have ample prize money in the bank and I wish to set up my own practice.”

“In London?” asked Wentworth as his brows furrowed visibly.

“In the north,” Patrick assured him.” I can certainly afford wife and family. I am sure that there will be some woman who would not be averse….” He left the ending open, not wanting to lie outright. Let Wentworth think what he wished to think. There would be no marriage, no children, no future of that sort at all.

“Ambrosia is of course, is on the cusp of a great match,” Wentworth said, as though relieved to change the subject. He smiled with obvious pride of his daughter. For Patrick’s sake, the words were delivered with an air of finality.

Patrick nodded.” So I was given to understand by your letters that she was to marry a duke?”

Now Wentworth was beaming with obvious satisfaction and he said,” Despite his rank, the Duke of Mayburry is the most magnanimous of all gentlemen. He is so full of good humour and generosity that his friends have shortened his title to Saint.”

Ambrose had won herself a saint, now, had she? It was no less than she deserved. Patrick had best keep as far away from her as possible. His own nature had proved to be far from the lofty state as it was possible to be.” Ambrosia is one of the most fortunate young ladies to gain such a husband.”

“I also heard about Anastasia, I thought that she would be really happy with her husband but you mentioned that he suddenly passed away due to some kind of disease. It is really something that I had thought that both the twins would be really happy with the matches that they would make,” said Patrick and the look on the Lord’s face was one of pain but he did not say anything.

“When will be Anastasia arriving back home?” asked Patrick.

“Why do you ask of it?” asked the older man.

“Because she is a young woman in a country where she has lived with her husband and now she is suddenly widowed and is without any kind of protection. At distressing times like this it is only for the best that she would be staying with her family with someone to help her in these times,” said Patrick with obvious passion. He had always considered Anastasia to be his sister and had taken care of her in a way that she needed to be. Even though the twins looked same, their personalities were hugely different. They were different characters altogether and Patrick had respected that.

“It is a shame that you cannot stay and meet him, the intended one of Ambrosia. He is expected this afternoon.” It was as blunt as shutting the door on his face.” Being like a member of the family” was not the same as recognized kinship. Now that he was raised and settled in trade, Wentworth felt no responsibility towards him at all.

“A pity, indeed. But of course, I cannot stay,” Patrick agreed. It was just as well. He had no real desire to meet this Saint who would marry his Ambrose, or remain under the Wentworth roof for a moment more than necessary.

“You will give my regards to Lady Ambrosia, of course.” He added her title carefully, to avoid any sign of familiarity.

“Of course,” her father said.” And now, I do not wish to keep you.”

“Of course not,” Patrick managed a smile and rose. As though this brief visit had been his intent all along, and his departure had nothing to do with the abrupt dismissal.

“I only wished to thank you, Sir, and to remind you how much difference has your patronage made to me and meant to my life. A letter seemed hardly appropriate.” Patrick offered a stiff bow to the man who claimed to be his benefactor.

Wentworth got up from the desk and clapped him by the shoulder, smiling as he had of old. That such approval could only come by his leaving and that was another reminder of the fact that nothing remained the same, everything had changed.

“I am touched, my boy. And it is good to know that you are doing well. Will we see you again, perhaps? While you are in London? For the wedding maybe?” asked the older man. He was smiling now, thinking that it would be too late to harm anything in Ambrosia’s life.

“I do not know. My plans are not yet set.” If he did find a ship that needed his services, he would be gone with the tide. And if not? Then perhaps at some distant spot in Scotland or Ireland that had the need of a physician.

“We are welcome of course. We will have much to celebrate. Little Ambrose is not so little any longer. The Duke has been set on the match since the beginning of the Season, but she has yet to answer him. I told her that she should not play with the affections of a Duke. But she does not listen to this old man. I had expected Anastasia to do something frivolous like this, but Ambrosia has always been the one who has thought and made decisions…” Wentworth still smiled, as though her disobedience was a treasure, which of course to him, it was.

If he had continued to indulge her every whim, she had likely grown into a willful hoyden. She would run wild without a strong man to partner her. Himself, for instance….Patrick put the thought away from his head.” She will come round in time I am sure, Sir.”

With some luck, he would be gone without even having to see it happen. If she had not decided, it would be a disaster to hang about there and run the risk of muddying her mind with his presence.

He and Wentworth went through the motions of an amicable parting as he walked towards the door of the room, but it went no further than that. They might as well have been strangers for all emotion expressed. There had been a time when Patrick had expressed the longing for a deeper bond of affection. But now that he knew the truth of their relationship, he would soon have never met the man. It took only a few more empty promises to keep in contact, before the interview was at an end and he was out of the office and retreating down the main stairs of the house he had once thought his home.

Only a few more feet and he would be out the front door and away. But a departure without an incident was very less likely. Because since he had climbed up to Went worth’s office, he knew that she waited, scant feet away.

When he had passed through on the hallway he had taken great care to not look in the direction where he knew that she had concealed herself. He did not want to see her. It would make his leaving all the more difficult.

But as he approached the house, a part of him feared that she would not be there to greet him. That poor fool wanted to search all the nooks and corners of the house to hold out his arms and then call out his name. He would equally wish to suffer if she did not come to him, or if she had gone into the arms of another and then went away from this house altogether.

One could not bring back the past, especially when one found that the happiness there had been based on ignorance and illusion.

The door had opened and he had not seen her. Torn between fear and relief, he had been afraid to enquire after her. But then as he had passed her hiding place, he had smelled her perfume.

That was not wholly accurate. He had smelled the woman’s scent in the air of the hall, fresh and growing stronger as he neared the alcove at the curve of the stairs. He could not be sure that it was her. The girl that he had left all those years ago, smelled of lemon soap and the mildest lavender eau-de-toilette. This new perfume was redolent of India, mysterious, sharp and sophisticated.

He should simply have turned and acknowledged her. He would have caught her hiding at the base of the stairs for he was sure that it was what she was doing, just as she had done when they were children. He could have pretended that nothing was amiss and greeted her easily, as an old friend ought. They could have exchanged pleasantries. Then he could have wished her well and they would have parted again after a few words.

But the fragrance had been an intoxicant to him and he would have needed all his wits about himself just even to get out a few words of greeting. If he could not master himself, there was no telling what his first words would have been to her. So he had taken the coward’s way, pretending that he was unaware of her presence and hoping that she would have given up in the hour of the interview and gone back to the morning room, or wherever it was where she spent her days.

He could not imagine his Ambrose, sitting like a lady on a divan or at a writing desk, prepared to offer chilly but gracious welcome and a banal conversation. He had spent too many year brooding in the memory of how she had been and not wanting her to change at all. He could picture her in the garden, running, climbing and sitting on a low tree branch he had helped her to when no one was seeing her and no one had been there to stop them.

Yet she would have put that kind of behavior aside, just like she had put aside eau de toilette. She had just grown up. She was to be a Ducchess. The girl he remembered was now gone, probably replaced by a ton weary flirt with enough poise to keep a duke dangling. Once he had met that stranger, perhaps he could finally be free of her and have some peace.

Then as he reached the bottom step, she pelted out from hiding to him, body to body, her arms around his neck ad called,”Tag.”