were possible.
A carriage had been sent from the dockyard with some porters to carry Bolitho's chests and cases to the ship. The wine-cooler she had given him to replace the other that lay on the sea bed in his old Hyperion would remain at Falmouth until the future had made itself clear. It would be a ready reminder whenever she saw it. Something of his.
Allday had gone with Ozzard and Yovell to make sure that nothing was stolen in the dockyard on its way to the ship, as he had bluntly put it. The serious-faced flag lieutenant, Avery, was somewhere downstairs in this inn, The Golden Lion, the best in Plymouth.
She had said good-bye to Bolitho's little crew as he called them, but Allday had lingered to say his own piece.
'I'll take good care o' Sir Richard, m'lady. Have no fear o' that.' He had seemed subdued, even sad.
She had said, 'Is it harder this time?'
He had given her his steady stare. 'Aye, it is. When we gets home again, will you come an' see us wed?'
She had almost broken at his use of the word home.
'Nothing will keep us away.' She had hugged him. The true sailor with his special scent of rum, tobacco and tar: the smells of the sea. 'And take care of yourself, John. You are very dear to me.'
She had seen his surprise at her emotion, the easy use of his name. She could read his thoughts. The woman who had been married to the lowest and the highest, who had stripped naked to don a man's clothing while the ship had been bearing down on the reef, who had half-killed a mutineer with a Spanish comb: how could she feel like weaker souls?
She heard Bolitho coming in now from the adjoining room, patting his pockets as she had seen him do so many times.
He was watching her gravely, his uniform and gleaming epaulettes like a barrier between them. He was wearing the beautiful presentation sword, and she knew Allday had been entrusted with the old family blade.
When they had arrived they had stood by this same window and he had remarked, 'They used to have a telescope mounted here so guests could see the shipping in the Sound.' He had tried to make light of it but there was something in his voice, some indefinable sadness. 'I expect some rogue stole it.'
'Secrets?' she had said.
'I was leaving then. I was captain of Hyperion. So long ago, it seems now. Nearly fifteen years.'
She had thought of the portrait of his first wife, Cheney, found dusty and forgotten where Belinda had hidden it. She had had it cleaned and replaced on the wall.
Bolitho had said quietly, 'It was the last time I saw her. She died when I was at sea.'
It had been a precious moment. She knew she would study the portrait again when she returned to Falmouth: the young bride who, but for a tragic accident, would have given him a child.
A servant appeared at the door. 'Beggin' yer pardon, Sir Richard, but th' carriage is 'ere.'
'Thank you.' He faced her again and she saw the pain in his grey eyes.
'I wish you were coming with me but I shall go directly to the dockyard. It hurts me so much to part with you, to become entangled again with the affairs of others.' He crossed to the open window and said softly, 'In God's name, there is a crowd outside! '
Catherine watched his dismay. Why was he always so surprised that wherever he went people wanted to see him? To ordinary men and women he was their protection, the hero who stood between them and the hated enemy.
He said, 'We must say good-bye, dearest Kate. It should be a tumbril out there, not a carriage.'
They stood quite motionless in one another's arms, and they kissed, clinging to the last minutes.
She whispered, 'I shall take the locket from you when you are with me again. Go down to them, Richard. I will watch from here.'
'No. Not from up here.' He forced a smile. 'Come to the door. They will adore it.'
She nodded, understanding. The window where the telescope had once been mounted was the last place where he had seen Cheney, when he had gone to join his ship.
'Very well. Afterwards I shall send for Matthew, and never fear, we will have a guard with us.' She touched his mouth, her fingers very cool. A last contact. She thought of the night. Unable to love, each thinking of the dawn, of today. Now.
'I love you so much, darling Kate. I feel I am leaving so much of me behind.'
Then they were on the staircase and Bolitho saw Avery standing below with the Golden Lion's landlord. The latter was all smiles at the attention his famous guest was attracting. He had probably spread the word himself.
Bolitho had noticed that Avery stood and walked with one shoulder slightly raised, because of the wound he had suffered when the schooner's men had struck to the French corvette. But the old tailor at Falmouth had done well, and Avery looked quite different in his new coat with its white lapels, his cocked hat bedecked with gleaming gold lace. The tailors could stitch a uniform together in less than four days; with the comings and goings of sea officers they would work twenty-four hours a day if need be. Bolitho had thought more than once that they would make a fortune in London.
Avery doffed his hat to Catherine. 'Good-bye, my lady.'
She held out her hand and he put it to his lips.
She said, 'We have had no time to become acquainted, Mr. Avery. We shall put that to rights when we meet again.'
Avery replied awkwardly, 'You are most kind, my lady.'
It was obvious he had been badly hurt, far more than by his wound.
The landlord threw open the door and the roar of voices swept over them. People were cheering and calling out he knew not what in the confused din of excitement.
'You drum them Frenchies to perdition! Just like our own Drake! '
Another yelled, 'God bless you, Dick, an' yer ladyship too! '
They fell strangely silent as Avery opened the carriage door with the crest of the fouled anchor on it. Bolitho looked at her and knew her mouth trembled, but only he would have seen it. Her fine dark eyes were very steady, too much so; but he knew that as far as she was concerned they were quite alone.
'Dearest of men.' She could not continue. Even when they kissed there was absolute silence, as if the crowd were too awed, perhaps too sad to make a sound. When he climbed into the carriage beside Avery the whole street erupted in cheering. Civilian hats flew into the air, and two passing marines doffed their own in salute.
She watched the coachman touch the two horses with his whip and the wheels began to clatter across the cobbles. Even then they cheered, and small boys ran alongside the carriage until it gathered speed. All the while he kept his eyes on hers, locked together until the carriage had vanished around a corner. Not once had he glanced up at the window with the balcony, and she was deeply moved.
She returned to the room, and without going close to the window, watched the crowd disperse, the sound dying away like a receding tide.
Sophie was waiting for her, her eyes filling her face.
'I was that proud, me lady. All them people! '
She nodded, her hand pressed beneath her breast, afraid almost to breathe, unable to believe he had gone.
'They used to do it to poor Nelson.' Then she said abruptly, Tell Matthew to fetch our things.'
'All done, me lady.' Sophie was puzzled. Lady Catherine should have been excited, or burst into tears. She did not understand that the tall, lovely woman with the dark hair and high cheekbones did not want to share it, not even with her.
Catherine said quietly, 'Go down, Sophie. There is something I must do.'
Alone she stood in the room and looked at the window where another woman had watched him go.
'May love always protect you.' She spoke aloud, momentarily unconscious that what she had just said was part of the engraving on his locket.
She walked slowly down the same staircase, holding her skirt with one hand, her eyes looking directly ahead.
The landlord bowed to her. 'God be with 'ee, m'lady! '
