THE INSHORE SQUADRON

He said, 'We were also going to London. To the Admiralty. We have just returned from duty.' He tried not to look at his leg. `I had the misfortune to stand up when I should have been lying down!'

She did not respond to his feeble joke.

`I, too, have just returned to England from India. It all seems changed here.' She gave a shiver. `Not just the climate, everything. The war seems so near I can almost picture the enemy across the Channel waiting to invade us.'

'I can think of several good reasons why the French will never come.' He smiled awkwardly. 'Though they may try.'

'I suppose so.' She looked lost, wistful.

Bolitho thought that the bruises and concussion might have been worse than the doctor had realized.

He asked gently, 'Is your husband with you?'

Her eyes darkened in shadow as she looked towards the closed door.

'He is dead.'

Bolitho stared at her. `I am so sorry. It was wrong of me to pry. Please forgive me.'

She faced him again, her expression one of curiosity.

`You really mean that. But I am through the worst of it, I think. He was with the East India Company. At Bombay he was happy, dealing with the company's mercantile affairs, trade, all the expanding business he was helping to build. He had been a soldier, but was a gentle man and glad to be rid of his commission.'

She gave a brief shrug, the movement stabbing at Bolitho's concern like a knife.

'Then he became ill. Some fever he caught when he was away on a mission inland.' Her eyes, like her tone, were dreamy, as if she was remembering each moment. 'It got worse and worse, until he could not even move from his bed. I nursed him for three years. It became part of life, something to accept without pity or hope. Then one morning he died. What I did not know was that he had been doing some private business of his own. He'd hinted at it sometimes, of how he was going to break away from the company and not just be a link in their chain. But he left me no details of whatever he was doing and, needless to say, none of his 'friends' came forward to explain. In just a few hours of his death I discovered that I was penniless and completely alone.'

Bolitho tried to imagine what it must have been like for her. And yet she spoke without bitterness or rancour. Perhaps, like her husband's long-drawn-out suffering, she had been forced to accept it.

He said, 'I should like to make it plain that if there is anything I can do…'

She raised her hand and smiled at his concern. 'You have done enough. I will go on to London as soon as the road is clear and begin my new life.'

'May I ask what that may be?'

'When I was in Bombay I encountered the only piece of good fortune I can recall. Quite by chance I met with one of the company's officials, and to our astonishment we discovered that we were related.' She smiled at the recollection. 'Very distantly, and very remotely, but it was like finding a willing hand when you are about to drown.'

Bolitho looked at the carpet, his mind reeling. 'Rupert Seton.'

'How on earth could you know that?'

He replied, 'I was in Copenhagen recently. I heard that he had passed through there on his way to England.'

She watched his expression anxiously. 'What is wrong?'

'I was married to his sister.' His words were dull and without hope. 'She was killed in a coaching accident while I was at sea. When I saw you in the coach this morning, your hair, I thought, I imagined…' He took several seconds to complete it. 'You are so like her.'

In the long silence he heard a clock ticking, the beat of his own heart, and somewhere far away a dog barking with sudden excitement.

She said softly, 'So I did not imagine all of it. Nor was I delirious. The way you were holding me. I knew somehow that I was going to be all right.'

The door opened and Browne said, 'I beg your pardon, sir. I thought you were alone.'

The girl said, 'Please come in, Lieutenant. This house makes you feel like a fugitive!'

Browne rubbed his -hands in front of the fire. 'You. look much better after that rest, sir. I have been speaking with Lord Swinburne's steward. He says that the road will be clear soon after first light. The snow is changing to rain again.'

When Bolitho said nothing he hurried on, 'So with your permission I will take the carriage to London with your despatches.'

'Very well.' Bolitho looked at the fold in his breeches, hating the wound. 'I will wait here for your return.'

Her gown swished across the floor and she said, 'May I share your carriage, Lieutenant? I think they will be alarmed if I am any later in arriving.'

Browne looked from one to the other, unusually confused. 'Well, ma'am, that is to say, well, I will be delighted to be of assistance.'

She turned and waited as Bolitho got to his feet. 'I would have liked to have continued our talk.' She laid one hand on his arm. 'But I fear it might have done both of us harm. So I will thank you again for all your kindness, and now I will go to bed in readiness for an early start. It has been a very demanding day, one way and the other.'

Bolitho stared at her hand as she removed it from his arm. The brief contact was broken. It had never begun.

Browne stared helplessly as the door closed behind her.

'I am really sorry, sir!'

'Sorry? For what?' Bolitho turned towards the fire and said in a calmer tone, 'There, you made me break an old rule. I had no cause to use my hurt on you.' He knew Browne was going to speak and added, 'You are a good fellow, Browne. At first I hated the idea of having a flag lieutenant, someone to share my confidences. But I have come to know you well, and have grown fond of you.'

'Thank you for that, sir.' Browne sounded astonished.

'Say no more of this. I was a fool to myself and an embarassment to the lady. I have been a sailor too long to change now. My place is on the sea, Browne, and when I am no further use then I were better under it!'

Browne moved silently from the room and shut the door. If only Pascoe or Herrick were here, he thought. Even Allday was powerless to break past the chain of command of Swinburne's household. And Bolitho needed somebody.

Browne thought of the despatches, of the other nagging doubts he had nursed since Bolitho's appointment to the Inshore Squadron. He would be as fast as he could. He glanced back at the closed door, recalling Bolitho's words. Grown fond of you. In Browne's world nobody ever said things like that and it had deeply affected him.

He saw a footman gliding towards a stairway, a silver tray beneath one arm. He beckoned him over and said, 'Would you take a drink to my admiral?'

The footman regarded him bleakly. Like a frog. 'French brandy, sir?'

'No, not that. My admiral has been at war with the French for seven years and before that also.' He saw that his words were finding no response in the froglike face and added, 'Some cool wine from the countryside. He seems to like it.'

As the footman moved away Browne saw Lord Swinburne coming down the great stairway.

Swinburne asked, 'All well, Oliver?'

'I have a favour to ask, m'lord.'

'Huh. That doesn't surprise me. Just like yer father.' He chuckled. 'Well?'

'Would it be possible for my admiral to have his coxswain with him?'

'His coxswain? Here?' His robin's eyes sparkled. 'Of course, he has not brought a man with him. I will speak with my steward, Has he asked for his coxswain?'

An Old Score 155

Browne shook his head. 'No, m'lord. It is just a feeling I have.'

His lordship shuffled away, shaking his head. 'Quite mad, just like yer father!'

Later, as the same footman was about to enter the room with his tray, Allday touched his arm and said abruptly, 'Here, matey, I'll take it.'

The footman glared at Allday, and then saw his expression and the size of his fists.