Sillitoe gazed at him over the rim of his glass, a little startled by the force of the words. He liked his nephew, and had felt moved to act on his behalf after he had been released from a French prison, only to face a court- martial. A wretched and unnecessary affair, he had thought. But then, he had little time for the navy and its strictures and traditions. His elder brother had been a captain and had been killed in action; it had been that captain who had inspired the young Avery to enter the navy, and it had been that same man who had sponsored him as a midshipman. But Avery's outburst had taken him by surprise, and he did not like surprises unless they were his own.
Avery said, as though to himself, 'Then he will still need me after all.'
Sillitoe frowned. 'I have a deal of influence. I am also a wealthy man, some might say very wealthy. I have business interests in this country, and in Jamaica and the Indies. I need someone of integrity.' He smiled briefly. 'And, if you like, honour.'
Avery put down his empty glass. 'Are you offering me an appointment, sir?'
Sillitoe paced to the window and back. 'A new life, would be a fairer description.'
Avery watched him, suddenly aware of Sillitoe's discomfort. He was ill at ease, and because it was a state unknown to him, he was unable to contain it.
'Why me, sir?'
Sillitoe turned on him angrily. 'Because you should have something to show for your sacrifices, and your treatment, which I thought unfair.' He shook his head as if to silence some hidden voice. 'And because I intend that you should be my heir.' He faced him again. 'My half-brother is dying of fever and a self- indulgence which would have sickened his father, hard man though he was.'
The door opened a few inches.
'The carriage will be in attendance in fifteen minutes, m'lord!'
Sillitoe said, 'I must see His Royal Highness. Louis of France is passing through London, en route to claim his throne.' He grimaced. 'There will be much to do.'
Avery found himself on his feet and at the door, his hat again in his hand.
Sillitoe shaded his eyes to watch the river. 'Enjoy your freedom with the beautiful Susanna.' He reached out and took Avery's wrist in a grip of steel. 'Then come back, and tell me your decision.'
Avery heard the horses stamping impatiently.
Surprising that he should be so calm. Like that last day, when Indomitable had fought gun to gun with the enemy and men had died within inches of him. And Bolitho had been with him, depending upon him.
And suppose Sillitoe was wrong about Susanna, and that there might be something deeper than the mere fire of sexual excitement?
He said, 'I thank you, sir, but I fear I do not deserve your offer.' He thrust a coin into the groom's hand. 'My loyalty is to Sir Richard.'
Sillitoe watched him without expression. Then you are a fool.'
Avery settled in the saddle and gazed down at him. 'Very likely, sir.' He would have said more, but as he dragged at the reins he saw his uncle perhaps for the first time. The man of power and influence.
A man completely alone.
Bryan Ferguson vaulted down from his two-wheeled trap and made sure that the pony was within reach of water.
'You bide here, Poppy.' He glanced at the feed-bag, but decided against it; the pony was getting plump enough as it was.
Then he turned and looked at the low, white-painted inn, The Old Hyperion. Its sign, with the ship heeling to wind and sea, was barely moving. A warm April evening, but the inn would be empty with all the men working late on the farms. He could see the glint of water through the trees, the Helford river; it was a pleasant place. And being the only inn on the edge of Fallowfield village, it could capture what trade there was.
Earlier in the day he had been in Falmouth, and had been very aware of the changes brought about by the news of Napoleon's surrender. There had been more young men in the streets than usual, a sure sign that the dreaded press gangs had been stood down. It would take some getting used to. He flexed his one arm grimly. These days he hardly noticed that he was lacking an arm; it was equally hard to believe that he himself had been pressed into the fleet, along with John Allday.
Fate played strange tricks. Now Allday was coxswain and friend to Sir Richard Bolitho, and Ferguson was steward to the Bolitho estate. And Bolitho had been the captain of that ship, which had snatched them from the beach to serve the King.
He sighed. It was better to get it over with. They had doubtless seen or heard the trap rattle into the yard.
Unis, Allday's wife, was waiting to greet him.
'Why, Bryan, this is a surprise. You're all us at the market today!'
Ferguson walked through the doorway and glanced at the scrubbed tables, the flowers and the polished brasses. Welcoming and neat, like the woman who had greeted him.
'John's out the back, doing something or other.' She smiled. 'My John, that is.'
The other John was Unis's brother, a one-legged soldier of the line, without whom she could never have managed with Allday at sea much of the time. Then she asked, 'You want to see him? Nothing wrong up at the house, is there?'
He said, 'A messenger came today, Unis.' It was pointless to try and make light of it. 'From the Admiralty.'
She sat on a bench and stared at her arms, which were dusted with flour. 'I thought… with the surrender an' that… it was all behind us. Will Sir Richard be needed again?' She touched the flour on her skin. 'My John?'
'It may be so.' He thought of Catherine Somervell's face after the messenger had departed. He had heard her exclaim, 'It's so unfair! So wrong!'
Just weeks since his return from the war across the Atlantic. Maybe they wanted to honour him in some way.
He heard Allday scraping his shoes at the parlour door and said, 'John would not be forced to go, Unis. Sir Richard would not do it.'
She was quite calm again, her breathing steady. 'I know that, Bryan. But you don't think like John, not about the sea an' Sir Richard.'
Allday strode into the room. 'Kate's asleep again, I see.' He shook his friend's hand. 'Going to be as smart as paint when she grows up, just like her mother!'
Unis said, 'I'll fetch a wet for you, Bryan.' She touched the big man's shoulder, and Ferguson saw the pain in her eyes. 'You too, of course!'
Allday looked steadily at him. 'She's left us alone. So what is it, bad news?'
'Sir Richard's called to London. The Admiralty.' He shrugged. 'Same old story, eh?'
'They didn't waste much time. When do we leave?'
Ferguson was both moved and troubled. Like the last time, and all the times before that.
'He'll not expect you to go to London, you know that, man. You've responsibilities here now, Unis and that bonny little mite sleeping in the parlour. The fighting's over, with the French anyhow, and the Yankees will never come this far!' It was no good. What had he expected?
Allday said, 'My place is with him, you knows that. He needs me more than ever now. That eye of his is no better.'
Ferguson said nothing. Allday trusted him with the secret, knowing he would tell nobody else, not even his wife. Especially not Grace. He loved her with all his heart, but he had to admit that she loved gossip.
Allday looked at his hands, strong hands, with scars to mark the years at sea. 'Is Sir Richard put aback by the news?'
'It's hard to say. I watch him and his lady together like you, I feel proud to be a part of it, but his thoughts he keeps to himself.'
Unis returned with two sweating tankards. 'When my brother gets back I must tell him to set up some more ale. I think we shall be busy this evening.' She looked at Ferguson. 'You told him, then?'
'Aye.'
Allday stared at the tankard between his hands, as if he wanted to crush it. 'Can you see Sir Richard taking on
