did not elaborate.
Napier slit open the envelope and pulled out the letter. His mind barely kept pace with the meaningless details, the lines of copperplate script and the remains of a broken seal. Like drops of blood. His hands were steady, but his mouth was completely dry.
My dear Mister Napier, At the earliest opportunity it is my wish to speak with you in person, to offer my gratitude and heartfelt thanks for your courageous attempt to save the life of my only son Paul, after the loss of Audacity.
No written words can convey my true feelings when the news reached me of his death, and your determined efforts on his behalf.
Napier moved the letter; it was shaking, blurred. Tiny, unreal sounds intruded. A horse on the cobbles, a man whistling, breaking off in a fit of coughing. His eyes fell to the foot of the page. look forward to the day of our meeting.
I am, believe me, yours sincerely, Charles Boyce, Rear-Admiral.
'Drink this. 'Yovell had come around the desk and was leaning over him.
Napier sipped at the glass and coughed, and felt Yoveil's hand on his shoulder. A latch clicked and he heard him snap, 'Not now! Find somebody else!'
Perhaps that did more than anything to steady him. But his vision was still blurred. Like drowning.
He said, 'I didn't even know his name. He was Boyce, that was all I knew.'
Yo veil's hand moved slightly. 'You are doing well. 'He raised the glass again. 'And his father is a rear-admiral, no less.'
Napier hardly heard him. 'We never shared anything aboard Audacity. There were six of us in the gunroom. There was always trouble…' He halted, shocked that all he could recall was hate. He touched his leg, without realizing that his hand had moved. The ship heeling over, explosions muffled and terrible as the sea burst into the hull. The screams, wild and unreal, others trying to cheer as Athena surged past, all her guns firing. Then the emptiness, drifting fragments, boats too far away to help. And through and above the smoke, sunlight touching the crest of a hill. Too far, too late. It was all he had.
He saw that Yovell was gazing at him, behind the desk once more.
'You've had quite a load to carry on your back, young David. 'He gestured to the letter. 'Some I heard, some I guessed. And you, I know. 'He gave his owlish smile. 'The rest can wait. But for the courier's untimely visit, you might never have received this. Not for a while, in any case.'
Napier said, 'I wondered why…' and saw Yo veil's irritation as more shouts came from the stables, and then Jeb Trinnick's harsher tone brought an instant silence.
Yovell folded the letter and pushed it discreetly across the desk. Then he said, 'It seems impossible to keep a secret in this place. The courier brought word to Captain Bolitho. It was his main purpose in coming, otherwise…' He unlocked a drawer and dragged it out until it was pressed against his stomach.
'We will talk again soon. Together we shall think of a suitable response to Rear-Admiral Boyce.'
Napier saw the long, buff-coloured envelope, another, unbroken red seal.
He heard himself ask, 'Is he recalled?'
Yovell seemed preoccupied, patting his pockets.
'I do not expect you to betray a confidence. 'He peered around for his hat. That was unfair, and uncalled for… Stay a while, if you wish. This, I fear, must not wait. Damn their eyes!'
Napier watched him in an awed silence. Mild enough, but from Yovell it matched a hardened seaman's crudest oath.
The door slammed and there was silence. Napier folded the letter slowly and replaced it in the torn envelope. He was a bully, a coward, and a liar. Aloud or to himself, he neither knew nor cared. He thought of the dark-eyed girl who had tried to drive away those same bitter memories.
Our secret. Now she would be separated from the man who was her life. He thrust the letter into his coat.
Our captain. Nothing else mattered.
She sat in one of the high-backed, matching chairs, her hands clasped in her lap, only her eyes moving as Adam Bolitho strode restlessly about the study. The fire in the grate had all but died, but the door was closed; they would not be disturbed.
Her cloak was still lying across the old chest by the window, where she had thrown it when they had arrived back from the harbour.
She had been expecting it, dreading it, but surely not so soon? She said only, 'When? 'and saw him twist the envelope in his hand. 'Is it a ship?'
He turned toward her, with the same expression she had seen when Yovell had brought the letter. And before that, when they had walked from the stable yard and the eyes had watched them pass. He had known then.
He took her hands in his and stooped to kiss her hair.
'I am required to report to Plymouth. 'He looked away, fighting it. 'Again. 'A piece of charred wood fell amongst the ashes and he saw her eyes reflect the leaping flame. He thought of the letter, complete with its stamp and seal of Admiralty. It was not a command. Upon receipt of these orders, or to proceed with all despatch. Curt and to the point. You became used to such brevity; you were not expected to like it. This was unreal; he could see him, hear his voice. John Grenville, still listed as captain, secretary to the First Lord. Second only to God. Like another world, and yet he remembered him better than many he had known for years.
'I am ordered to attend a meeting with certain senior officers. Captain Grenville apologizes for the abruptness of this summons. 'He saw the question in her eyes. 'That was stupid of me, Lowenna. You do not know him. He is already at Plymouth… his last active duty, to all accounts. 'He was making no sense, and he gripped her hands as she rose from the chair. 'I wanted anything but this!'
She waited, giving herself time. This was their life, or would be.
'Down by the harbour, Adam, I told you I wanted to share it, be a part of it. 'She put her arms around his shoulders. 'A part of you.'
They walked to the old chest, and Adam lifted her cloak so that she could read its carved inscription, the motto of the Bolitho family. For My Country's Freedom.
She murmured, 'Remember the curate, Adam. The second part. 'When danger threatens, but not before.'' She paused. 'And I'm prepared for that too, God help me, if need be.'
There were voices, perhaps guests. He said, 'We must tell my aunt.'
She had seen that look in his eyes when the little brig had been getting under way. The captain. A man apart.
He walked to the door, pausing once to glance back at the room, the books and the paintings. The past. He heard Grenville's voice again. Be patient. A ship will come.
She slipped her hand around his wrist, and the gold lace on his sleeve.
'I am ready.'
But as he held open the door, she touched her breast. It was as if her heart had stopped.
4. Yours to Command
The clerk held open the heavy door with one hand while he snatched a coat from a chair with the other.
'If you would wait here a moment, sir. I was told to conduct you directly you were announced.'
Adam Bolitho walked into the spacious room; it was as if nothing had changed. The same paintings, the great windows with their sweeping views across Plymouth Sound, and the narrow balcony where only the determined would brave the cold easterly wind. It only needed Valentine Keen, that youthful admiral, to make an appearance and the clock would turn right back to the year when Adam had taken command of Unrivalled.
T will inform Sir John of your arrival.'
Adam turned abruptly, but the door was closed. He must have misheard, or the clerk was wrong. Sir John Grenville? He looked toward the table near the door, at the candle burning beside a pile of envelopes, the wax and official stamp ready for use. Documents of some importance… The clerk was not likely to have made a mistake.
