Hold fast there, John. He did not know if he had spoken aloud, or to whom he had been speaking, himself, or the sailor home from the sea.
He heard a gust of laughter and was suddenly proud of his neat little sister, and even perhaps ashamed that he had given way to his bitter memories. It had not always been so. He squared his shoulders and tapped out his pipe in the palm of his hand, carefully, so as not to break it. Then he strode in to the adjoining room and picked up an empty tankard. Like the old Thirty-First. Stand together, and face your front.
He was back.
Lady Somervell gripped a tasselled handle and leaned forward as the carriage with its matching greys turned into the imposing gateway. The sky over the Thames was clear, but after several days of thunderstorms and heavy rain nothing seemed certain.
She was alone, and had left her companion Melwyn to pay the men who were repairing the front door of her Chelsea house.
Sillitoe had sent his carriage to collect her, and she had seen several people in the Walk turn to watch, some to smile and wave.
It was still hard to accept. To come to terms with. To understand.
Some had left flowers for her; one had even placed an expensive arrangement of roses on her doorstep with the simple message, For the Admiral’s Lady. With admiration and love.
And by contrast, last night, probably during the thunderstorm, someone had scratched the word whore on the same door. Melwyn had been outraged, the affront sitting strangely on one so young. Because she felt a part of it.
She watched the horses’ ears twitching as the carriage rolled to a halt. She could see the Thames again. The same river, but a world apart.
As speculation about the war had hardened into fact, she had wondered how the news would affect Adam. She had written to him, but she knew from bitter experience that letters took their time reaching the King’s ships.
Once, when she had been passing the Admiralty, she had realised how complete her isolation from Richard’s world had become. She knew no one in those busy corridors, or even “by way of the back stairs,” as he had called it. Bethune was in the Mediterranean, in Richard’s old command, and Valentine Keen was in Plymouth. She thought of Graham Bethune’s concern for her, and his furious estrangement from his wife. He was an attractive man, and good company. It was probably for the best that he was so far away.
A boy in a leather apron had opened the door and was lowering the step. He, at least, should be spared the suffering and the separation of war.
She climbed down and looked up at the coachman.
“Thank you, William. That was most comfortable.” She sensed his surprise, that she had remembered his name, or because she had spoken at all. She saw his eyes move to her breast and the diamond pendant there, and just as swiftly move away. Like the men painting the front door. She had seen their expressions. Their curiosity.
She thought of the blind lieutenant and the crippled sailors at the cathedral. It made the others seem lower than the dust.
A servant opened the doors for her, a man she did not know. He gave a quick bow.
“If you will wait in the library, m’ lady. Lord Sillitoe will join you presently.”
She walked into the room and saw the chair where she had sat, waiting for Sillitoe on the day of the memorial service. Only two weeks ago. A lifetime.
And now she was here again. Sillitoe had taken it upon himself to deal with the legal complications; she had seen another carriage in the drive, and somehow knew it was that of the City lawyer, Sir Wilfred Lafargue. Sillitoe seemed to know everyone of consequence, friend or enemy. Like the private article someone had shown her in the Times news-sheet, a very personal appraisal, a dedication to the one man she had loved.
Sir Richard practised total war, and inspired others to seek a total victory. To the Navy, his will remain an abiding influence. We shall never forget him, nor the woman he loved to the end.
Her name had not been mentioned. There was no need.
Sillitoe had said nothing about it. There had been no need for that, either.
The door opened and he strode into the room, his quick, keen glance taking in the dark green gown, the wide- brimmed straw hat with its matching ribbon. Perhaps surprised to see her out of mourning; the hooded eyes gave little away, but she recognised approval in them.
He kissed her hand, and half-turned as horses clattered across the drive.
“Lafargue can make even a single word into an overture.” He waited for her to sit and arrange her gown. “But I think the way has become clear.”
She felt the eyes upon her, the power of the man. An intensity which so many had found cause to fear.
She had only once seen him off guard, that day at the cathedral, when he had pushed through the silent crowd to be at her side. As if he believed he had failed her in some way, something which he was unable to conceal.
And other times. When he had arranged passage for her to Malta… For that last time. She clenched her fist around her parasol. She must not think of it. She had often found him watching her, like this moment, in this great, silent house overlooking the Thames. Perhaps remembering yet again the night he had burst into her room, and had held her, shielded her, as his men had dragged away the madman who had attempted to rape her.
He had made no secret of his feelings for her. Once, in this house, he had even mentioned marriage. But after that terrible night, how did he really regard her?
She thought of the lightning over the river last night, probably while the unknown pervert had been scratching his poison on the door. It had all come back to her. Melwyn had felt it too, and had climbed into bed with her, holding her hand, a child again, until the storm had abated.
Sillitoe said, “Lady Bolitho will have the right to visit Falmouth. A lawyer acceptable to Lafargue,” he almost smiled, “and, of course, to me, will be present. Certain items…” He broke off, suddenly tired of evasion. “It would not be advisable for you to be present. Captain Bolitho is the accepted heir, but in his absence we may have to make allowances.”
She said quietly, “I had no intention of returning to Falmouth.” She raised her chin and regarded him steadily. “There would be some who would say that the mare was hasty to change saddles!”
Sillitoe nodded. “Bravely spoken.”
“Time will pass. I shall become a stranger there.”
“Adam will ask you to visit or take up residence, whichever you choose. When he eventually returns.”
She was on her feet without knowing that she had left the chair. She looked down at the river: people working on barges, a man walking his dog. Ordinary things. She bit her lip. Beyond her reach.
She said, “I think that might be dangerous.”
She did not explain. She did not need to.
And she spoke the truth. What would she do there? Watch the ships, listen to the sailors, torture herself with memories they had shared with no one?
Sillitoe waited, watched her turn, framed against the sun-dappled window, her throat and shoulders as brown as any country lass working in the fields, the pendant glittering between her breasts. The one woman he truly wanted; he had never considered it as a need before. And the only one he could never have.
He said abruptly, “I have to leave London. Tomorrow or the next day.” He saw her hand close into a fist again. What was troubling her? “To Deptford. I was going to suggest that you stay here. You would be well taken care of, and I would feel safer.”
She looked at the river once more. “That would do your reputation injury, surely?”
“It is of no consequence.” He was standing beside her, like that day at St Paul ’s. “After this duty I shall be spending more time in the pursuit of my own affairs, unless…”
She turned towards him, unnerved by the realisation that this was the true reason for asking her here. “Unless?”
“The Prince Regent seems to feel that my work as Inspector General has run its course.” He shrugged. “He is probably right.”
She could feel the beat of her heart, like a hammer, and said again, “Unless what?”
“I think you know, Catherine.”
“Because of me. What they will say. How it would look. They would pillory you, just as they tried to destroy
