letting her go, if you will see she does take care, when on the cliffs, that she goes not too near the edge.’
He did not take her near the cliffs, but inland, past hard fallow fields and tenant farms, where soft-eyed cows came out to stare, and red-cheeked children peered around the cottage doors and wondered at their passing. To Sophia, this was more familiar than the wilder landscape of the North Sea coast, although a part of her this morning seemed to want to feel that wildness, and she did not mind when Mr Hall suggested they start back to Slains.
The sky above the sea was almost free of cloud, and bright as far as she could see, and while the wind blew strongly it had come around and blew now from the southwest, and it did not seem as cold against her face. The water, too, although still ridged with white, had lost its angry roll and came to shore with better manners, not exploding on the rocks but merely curling foam around them and receding, in an almost soothing rhythm.
It was not the sea itself, though, that Sophia’s gaze was drawn to, but the ship that rode upon it, rode to anchor with its sails tight-folded underneath the white cross of Saint Andrew blazoned on a field of Scottish blue.
She hadn’t expected to see a ship so close to land, and so far to the north, and the sight of it took her entirely by surprise. ‘What ship is that?’ she asked.
The sight of the ship appeared to have affected Mr Hall even more strongly than it had herself, for it took him a moment before he replied, and his voice held a curious quality that might have been disappointment, she thought, or displeasure. ‘’Tis the Royal William . Captain Gordon’s ship.’ He looked at it a minute longer, then he said, ‘I wonder if he simply pays the countess his respects, or if he means to come ashore?’
The answer waited for them in the drawing room.
The man who rose for introduction cut a gallant figure. Sophia judged him to be about forty, and good-looking in his naval captain’s uniform, with gold braid on his long blue coat and every button polished, and a white cravat wound elegantly round his throat and knotted, and a curled wig of the latest fashion. But his stance was firm and not the least affected, and his blue eyes were straightforward. ‘Your servant,’ he assured Sophia, when she was presented to him.
‘Captain Gordon,’ said the countess, ‘is an old and valued friend, and does us honour with his company.’ She turned to him. ‘We’ve missed you, Thomas, this past winter. Have you been laid up, or were you on another voyage to the Indies?’
‘The Royal William has been these months in the road of Leith, my lady. This is our first journey north.’
‘And where, now, are you bound?’
‘I am commissioned to keep up the old patrol, between the Orkney Isles and Tynemouth, though I do not doubt but that will alter when the Union takes effect.’
Mr Hall said to Sophia, ‘Captain Gordon is the commodore of our Scots navy frigates on the eastern coast, which soon will be absorbed into the navy of Great Britain.’
‘And who then,’ asked the countess, ‘will protect our shores from privateers?’ But she was smiling when she said it, and Sophia had again the sense of being on the outside of a private understanding. ‘Please,’ the countess said, ‘be at your ease, and let us have a proper visit.’ And with that she sat, and called Sophia over to the easy chair beside her, while the gentlemen took rush chairs with red leather cushions nearer to the window.
Sophia was aware of Captain Gordon’s gaze upon her, and because it made her feel a bit uncomfortable, she sought to break the silence. ‘Are there many privateers, sir, who would prey upon our coast?’
‘Aye, that there are,’ the captain said. ‘The French and Spanish have an eye for our Scots shipping.’
Mr Hall’s good-natured comment was, ‘I would suspect their interest profits you far more than it does them. Do you not keep
Victoria Christopher Murray