'Aye, that I do!'

'Then kindly attend, Thomas,' she said seriously. 'The first point I will make is that you ask to enter society as a waif and stray—without you have an establishment, a lodging at the very least, you cannot expect to receive visitors or hold the usual polite assemblies.'

It was a novel thought: 'home' had always been his ship, the centre of his world, and failing that, then Guildford where his parents lived. He and Renzi had briefly shared a residence there, it was true, but they had always known it would be temporary. Cecilia was now telling him to have life outside his ship—to put down roots for the first time.

'I've been staying with Jane and her husband, who is something in a financial way in Plymouth. She will tell us where distinguished sea officers might find suitable accommodation.' She regarded Kydd's splendid full-dress commander's uniform doubtfully. 'In course, you will not often be in uniform on the land, Thomas. You will need to consult a tailor. Coat and breeches simply will not answer any more. Pantaloons and cravat are all the thing.'

'I'll not be made—'

'Then shall you meet us for an expedition on the strand tomorrow? Or . . . ?'

'Aye—at eleven,' Kydd muttered.

'Now, pray don't take it amiss, brother, but I'm bound to observe that your speech is not at all that is to be expected of a high officer. It smacks too much of the old ways and simply will not do. You must try to speak more slowly, to pronounce every word to its full measure, to use circumspection in your language. Surely you don't want to be mistaken for some kind of sea bumpkin?'

Kydd felt a flush rising. 'The sea's a hard enough place. Y' need plain-speakin',' he growled.

'But we're not at sea when we're on the land,' Cecilia replied firmly, 'and on shore we do as others do. I will give you a poetry book, and you are to read it aloud every morning to Tysoe, trying very hard to make the words beautiful.'

Utterly lost for something to say, Kydd snorted.

'And, Thomas,' she said primly, 'I cannot help but note that you speak to me in too familiar a manner. I may be your sister, but that is no excuse for omitting the usual delicacies of converse. Do, please, try to be a little more polite in your address to me.'

'If this'n pleases y'r ladyship,' Kydd said sarcastically, and instantly regretted it. Cecilia was right: the eighteenth century had gone, and with it, much of the colour and vigour he remembered from his youth. Now, in the year 1803, times were more sombre and careful. Appearance and manner were valued over spirit and dash. 'That is t' say, ye're in the right of it, o' course.' The warmth of her smile touched him and he felt ashamed of his obstinacy. 'I'll try, sis,' he said sincerely.

'Well, now, there's the matter of deportment—but you already cut a fine figure of a man, Thomas. I think we might accept your qualities in this. But there are other skills of a social order that you'll find indispensable: ability at cards, the arts of gallantry—'

'Be damned! You're beginnin' t' sound too much like Nicholas.'

Her face shadowed.

'Oh, er, Cec, I didn't mean to . . .' But there was no going back. 'May I know . . . how is it wi' Nicholas an' yourself? Are you . . . ?'

At first she did not answer; she crossed to the windows and stared out into the darkness. Then she spoke. 'He is a man like no other, Thomas. I will wait for him, whatever his reasons, but you are never in life to tell him of my—my feelings for him. When he's ready . . .'

She found a handkerchief and dabbed her eye. 'Is he—is he happy, do you think?'

Floundering at the change in subject Kydd gathered his thoughts. 'Nicholas? Well, I—but then he's a fathom an' a half too deep for me t' know f'r certain, but I can tell ye—that is t' say, you—that he's taken aboard s' many books and scratches away in his little cabin all th' hours God gives that it must be givin' him satisfaction.'

'You're such a good friend to him, Thomas,' she said softly. 'You'll both take care, won't you?'

Kydd saw her eyes had filled. Out of his depth in the presence of female emotion, he reached for the brandy. 'Cecilia, let's toast. T' the future, sis, as who knows what's lyin' in wait for us both!'

'Mm, yes. I do see what you mean, Cecilia, dear.' Mrs Mullins was in no doubt about Kydd's shortcomings in the way of dress and twirled her parasol in exasperation. 'Men are such tiresome creatures to encourage when it comes to matters of appearance.'

'Quite so, dear Jane,' Cecilia said comfortably, on Kydd's arm for the short walk up Fore Street to the Plymouth diligence stand. 'But Thomas has promised, and he shall bear his lot with patience until his dress may match his station in life—is this not the case, Thomas?'

'Aye, Cec,' he said reluctantly.

'I do beg your pardon, Thomas?'

'Er, I meant t' say, that is so, Cec—Cecilia.' Be damned to this wry way of talking—but she was right. Kydd accepted that in some ways his sister had advanced much further into polite society than he, even to familiarity with the ways of the nobility and landed aristocracy. If he was to be fully accepted, there was no alternative but to follow her strictures and conform to the way things were at those levels.

'Jane has very kindly brought a newspaper with her, and after we have finished at the tailor we shall consult her concerning a suitable district for your residence.' Cecilia informed him firmly, 'We are fortunate, Thomas, that we have a friend living here who is to advise us.'

They climbed into the diligence and set off for Plymouth town. The ladies happily chattered about sartorial possibilities while Kydd stared out over the Sourpool marshes, scattered pine houses among their melon and cucumber pits. There was no question but that he was going through with whatever it took to enter fully into society. Fortune had brought him this far but he had to fit himself properly to take advantage of the next big stroke.

He allowed his fancies to soar: as a commander he had the respect of the world, but most probably it would be as far as he could reasonably expect to go in naval service and he should then be content with an honourable

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