The evening meal was a roaring success. Kydd became hoarse with talking and Renzi was quite undone by the warmth of his welcome. Cecilia could not get enough of Kydd's descriptions of the Venice of Casanova, even above his protestations that the danger of their mission meant he was hardly in a position to discourse on the republic's attractions.
Distant thumps and a sudden crackle sounded outside. Cecilia clapped her hands. 'The fireworks—I nearly forgot! Tonight we'll see your Admiral Onslow—he is to be a baronet, and is now resting at Clandon with his brother the earl. It's said he'll make an address from the balcony of the town hall! Gentlemen—I wish to attend! I shall be with you presently.' She swept away imperiously to appear shortly afterwards in a pelisse at the height of fashion: lemon silk, lined and faced with blue. She looked at them both with the suspicion of a pout. 'And who will be my gentleman escort?'
Kydd hesitated, but instantly Renzi bowed deeply and offered his arm. 'May I observe that I find Mademoiselle is in looks tonight?' he said, with the utmost courtly grace.
Cecilia inclined her head and accepted his arm. They went outside and, without a backward glance at Kydd, moved off down the lane, Cecilia's laughter tinkling at Renzi's sallies.
Kydd watched them helplessly. His sister had changed. There was not a trace of childhood chubbiness left: her strong features had developed into strikingly dark good looks and a languorous elegance. Her position with Lady Stanhope had allowed her to find an easy confidence and elegance of speech that he could only envy; he followed them, trying to look unconcerned.
Crowds pressed everywhere, while excited chatter and the smell of fireworks hung on the air. People held back respectfully. Kydd was not sure whether it was in recognition of them as gentlefolk or because of the Navy uniform. Closer to the torch-lit balcony the throng was tightly packed and they had to remain some distance back.
Cecilia kept Renzi's arm, but pulled Kydd forward, attracting envious looks from other ladies. 'Oh, I'm so proud of you!' she exclaimed, her voice raised above the excited babble of the crowd. She smiled at them both, and Kydd felt better.
'It was th' admiral gave me m' step, Cec—there in th' great cabin o'
A deep thumping came from the other side, further down the high street: the Royal Surreys called out to do duty on this naval occasion. Thin sounds of fife and trumpet rose above the hubbub, strengthening as they approached. Then, with a pair of loud double thumps on the bass drum, it ceased.
The crowd surged below the balcony and settled into a tense expectation. Torchlight illuminated upturned faces, caught the sparkle of eyes, the glitter of gold lace. At the signs of indistinct movement within, a rustle of anticipation arose and the mayor emerged on to the balcony in his best scarlet gown and tricorne, resplendent with his chain of office. 'M' lords, ladies an' gen-nelmen! Pray silence for the mighty victor o' the great battle o' Camperdown, our own—Adm'ral Onslow!'
The genial sea officer Kydd remembered stepped out on to the balcony. A furious storm of cheering met him, a roar of wholehearted and patriotic acclaim. Onslow, in his full-dress admiral's uniform, sword and decorations, bared his head and bowed this way and that, manifestly affected by the welcome.
Kydd watched him turn again and again to face all parts of the crowd. At one point he thought he had caught the admiral's eye, and wondered if he should wave back, but there was no sign of recognition.
The noise subsided, and Onslow moved to the front of the balcony. He fumbled in his coat, and withdrew a paper. He hesitated, then put the paper back, straightening to a quarterdeck brace. 'M' lord mayor an' lady—citizens of Guildford!' he began. 'I thank ye for your fine and loyal address followin' the action off Camperdown. But I must make something very clear to ye. An admiral doesn't win battles, the seamen do. An' I cannot stand here tonight without I acknowledge this before you all! Over there t' larb'd! Yes, those two men, ahoy! Be s' good as to join me and show y'selves! These are two of your true victors o' Camperdown!'
'Thomas—go!' Cecilia squealed, when it became obvious whom the admiral had singled out. The crowd shuffled and fell back.
Onslow was waiting for them and shook their hands warmly. 'A fine thing t' see ye both,' he rumbled, his keen eyes taking in their new uniforms. 'Let's out an' give 'em a sight, then you'll honour me with y'r presence at the presentation.'
They emerged together on the balcony to a roar, Kydd waving awkwardly, Renzi bowing. Kydd's eyes searched out Cecilia. She was shouting something to him, waving furiously, and his heart swelled.
'A capital choice,' Renzi said, removing his coat and standing in waistcoat and breeches. 'It seems we shall be waiting out
Kydd rubbed his hands before the fire. The agent had left, and they had taken on this half-mansion below the castle for a reasonable sum. The owner had apparently instructed that officers in His Majesty's service could rely on his patriotic duty in the matter of a lease. Not only that but, agreeably, they could share the services of domestic staff with the adjoining residence, which, as it was inhabited by an old lady, should be no trial.
Kydd looked around him with growing satisfaction, albeit tinged with trepidation. The rooms were not large, but were bigger than anything he had lived in before. He'd always known that the heart of the home was the kitchen, but here it seemed that this elegant room had taken its place.
The walls were a soft sage colour, the broad, generous sash windows were hung with muslin and festoon curtains, and stout druggets lay beneath his feet instead of oiled floorcloths. The furniture was reassuringly old- fashioned and sturdy. He turned again to the fire with its plain but well-proportioned marble surround and mantelpiece, and felt an unstoppable surge of happiness. 'Two or three months, d'ye suppose?' he mused, recalling the savage wounds
'I would think so.' Renzi sat sprawled, his eyes closed.
'Nicholas, th' sun is not yet above th' foreyard, but I have a desire t' toast our fortune!'
Renzi half opened his eyes. 'Please do. You will not find me shy of acknowledging that it is these same fates that determine whether one should die of a loathsome disease or—'
'Clap a stopper on it, brother!' Kydd laughed. 'I'll go 'n' rouse out somethin' we c'n—'
'I think not.'
'Why—'
