'I would have walked right past you! I had no idea.' He saw her hand gripped around the polished woodwork, like some small, wary creature. 'I still have it. I will never lose it.' He saw some faces turn towards him, disturbed, irritated. He lowered his voice. 'May I ask why you are here at King Charles the Martyr?'
'I might ask the same of you, Captain. Perhaps you came to bask in the past glories of your family? Or to find peace, as I do on occasion.'
He reached out to cover her hand with his own, but it had vanished. Ile said, 'I wanted to walk, to think.' I Ic hesitated. 'To remember.'
She looked down, her face almost hidden. 'You asked for the rose to remain in the portrait? Is that so?'
Ile nodded, sensing her sudden uncertainty. Like panic.
Ile said, 'It will always be there. Even when I am not.'
She shook her head and he saw her hair shine briefly in the colours from a stained glass window.
'I)o not say such things.' She looked at him directly again, her eyes very dark. 'And do not think of me as you first saw me. It would be better for you if we never saw one another again.'
He felt her hand close on his, slight but surprisingly strong. 'Believe me, for my sake if not your own.'
The building quivered to the slow, deliberate intrusion of the great clock chiming the hour.
She stood suddenly, the contact broken. 'I must leave. I am already late. Forgive me.'
She had opened the pew gate and was very cl use to him. Her perfume, or perhaps it was her body's scent, was a.most physical.
He said, 'I would wish to see you again, Lowenna.' He felt her start at the use of her name, but she did not pull away.
Instead she said quietly, 'He told you.' Then, 'He trusts you.'
She stepped out of the pew and he was vaguely aware of other faces turning to stare.
She said, 'It is a long walk. You may ride with me.' And put a hand to her mouth, as if surprised, even shocked by her own suggestion.
Then she tossed her head, the hair spilling across her shoulder. 'They can think what they choose!'
He stepped aside for her, unable to believe it was happening.
He said, 'There will always be thoughts.' Like a voice from the past.
There were some empty vases waiting to be filled, and he took her arm gently to guide her around them. He felt the sudden tension, so strong that he thought she would turn upon him.
But she halted and faced him, quite deliberately, and her voice was heavy, even sad.
'Don't do that again, Captain.' Without anger. Without hope.
They walked in silence to the big doors and he saw a pony and a smart little trap waiting in the square. It was the same stable boy, neatly turned out and without his grubby apron. He showed neither surprise nor hesitation as he hurried to lower the other seat. Side by side, not touching. But Adam could think of one thing only. This meeting was no accident. She must have wanted it.
Don't break your heart, Adam. Not again.
He glanced at her profile as the little trap rattled out of the square. Her head and shoulders were covered with a fine black shawl. Only one hand showed itself on the safety rail. A temptation, and a risk he would never take. Like the girl on board the slaver. Afraid of what might happen.
Worse, what she might do.
It seemed to take no time at all. The old stone wall, the house beyond, and always the sea. He said, 'You could step into the house. I could show you some of the portraits.' It sounded meaningless. Ile tried again. 'You would not be alone. There are people here.'
She was not listening. She said only, 'Someone is waiting for you, I think.'
The little group stood motionless by the entrance. Ferguson and, surprisingly, Allday. Yovell was here too, a little apart from the others. A spectator.
But all Adam saw was the man in uniform, the dust still on his shoulders from his ride. The horse was with Young Matthew and the boy Napier, who was rubbing his eyes with his wrist.
She murmured, 'Is it had news?'
Adam turned on the seat and looked at her. lie did not need to be told; he had experienced it many times. Without question. Sometimes he had welcomed it. But not now.
He answered, 'I am recalled.'
She did not take her eyes from his. 'I think I knew. It was why I had to see you. To speak…' She attempted to pull her hand away as he covered it with his own, but instead stared at it, as if fighting something, unable to break free.
'I felt it too, Lowenna.' He looked around, the house, the group of people he cared about; they were not here. There was only the sea. Like an old, familiar enemy. 'I shall never forget…'
She shook her head. 'You must. For both our sakes.'
Adam felt a tear splash on to his hand, and released hers very carefully. Then he stepped down and stood beside the little trap and said simply, 'I want to know you, and for you to know me, to share and confide. To trust.'
She watched him, one hand to her breast as he lifted his wrist and touched the fallen tears with his lips.
'Until we meet again, this must suffice.'
He didn't know if she'd heard him, or even if she had answered.
The trap was rattling away and was lost almost immediately around the bend of the road. She did not look back.
He walked towards the house and saw the courier unfastening his pouch.
The rest were dreams.
Adam Bolitho stood by the stern windows in a patch of deep shadow and stared out at the great array of ships. It never changed except when Unrivalled swung to her cable. He traced the outline of an anchored brigantine with his finger on the thick glass. You could almost feel the impatience of the vessels and their companies, eager to leave before the excitement lost its edge.
It was his first full day on board, and yet he still felt as if part of himself had remained with the land. He had tried to lose himself in his command, something he had always been able to do, even if only to give confidence in moments of doubt.
Galbraith had done well during his absence. No deserters, perhaps because of the unpaid bounty-and prize- money, and only a few defaulters, petty for the most part.
He turned his back on the glistening panorama and looked around the cabin. Two hours ago he had assembled all the officers here, senior warrant officers included. He smiled faintly. Trust the professionals. Two hours, yet he could still see them, just as Joshua Cristie's rank tobacco lingered as another reminder.
He had explained the main points of Unrivalled's orders. In three days' time, unless otherwise instructed, she would proceed to sea, to carry despatches of importance to Gibraltar, then return to Plymouth with the latest intelligence for Lord Exmouth himself.
Unrivalled's captain was commanded to act upon these orders with all despatch, and at no time deviate from them.
Exmouth was an admiral, but he was still a frigate captain at heart, and knew better than most of the temptations which might intervene with loosely worded orders.
Unrivalled was quiet now, during the first dogwatch, the hands in their messes, the 'young gentlemen' and boys under instruction.
Adam had listened to his own voice as he had stressed the need for extra care, the final testing of standing and running rigging. Galbraith and Partridge would deal with that. Powder and shot; he had seen Old Stranace nod, his experience of many years priceless in a campaign which might well explode into a full-scale war. lie had been aware of some surprise when he had emphasized the importance of provisioning the ship to her full capacity, especially with fresh fruit and vegetables.
Tregillis, the purser, had met his gaze without expression. He, more than anyone, would know how easy it was to barter with traders at a better rate if the goods were overripe before they were even stowed away. It would do no harm for him to be aware of his captain's interest.
There had been only a few questions, most referring to a particular officer's duties or part of ship.
Only Lieutenant Varlo had broken the pattern.
