There was something odd about the house, though; something wrong. Baggage in the entrance hall, still covered with a waterproof sheet.
He swung round and saw Jago emerging from the shadows beneath the great, curving staircase, grim-faced, eyes steady.
Anticipating the worst and ready for it.
'No squalls, Cap'n? 'And then, reading his expression, 'I knew it, an' I told 'em as much!'
They shook hands, a hard grip, as if to settle something. Like those other times, when even survival had been in doubt.
'No ship yet, Luke. But no squalls either.'
Troubridge watched and listened and made a mental note of it. The captain and his coxswain; but it went far deeper than that. He had learned a lot. He was still learning.
Adam was looking up the stairs.
'It's very quiet. Where is everybody?'
Troubridge said, 'Sir Graham has gone. To join Lady Bethune… It was all very sudden.'
Adam rubbed his cheek with his knuckles. Not like their arrival: Bethune had slammed through the house as if fired by some demonic energy, barking instructions and questions at Troubridge or his frog-like secretary and rarely waiting for a reply from either. More like the vice-admiral Adam had come to know and not the moody, despairing man, often the worse for drink, who had spent most of his time in his own quarters during Athena's final passage to Portsmouth.
'Did he leave word for me? I am relieved of duty until further orders, but he must have known that.'
'He knew. 'Troubridge bit his lip. 'Lady Bethune left before him. I thought she was pleased at the turn of events.'
Adam sat down on a carved, uncomfortable chair, and thought of the slight, white-haired Grenville. Some would describe it as influence.
He looked directly at the flag lieutenant.
'Forgive me. I intended to ask. What will you do?'
Troubridge looked vaguely around the gracious hallway.
'I am going to visit my father. He will doubtless know soon enough what has happened.'
So many memories. Troubridge, the aide who so adroitly fended off any problem or difficulty that might trouble his superior, any day, at any hour. And the Troubridge who had become a true friend in so short a time. Here, in London, when he had been at Adam's side as they had burst into that sordid studio where Lowenna was fighting off an attack. Jago had been with them. What had Sir Richard called his closest friends and companions? My little crew. Or as he had heard another describe them, We Happy Few.
Troubridge had referred to 'my father'. He was Admiral Sir Joseph Troubridge, well known and respected in the navy. A veteran of The Saintes and the Glorious First of June, as a lieutenant he had been a friend of the young Horatio Nelson.
And now he was leaving the Navy List to take up a prestigious appointment with the Honourable East India Company, 'John Company 'as it was nicknamed.
Troubridge's future would be in safe hands.
But like the Admiralty waiting room, it was no solution.
Troubridge smiled for the first time.
'I will let you know. I once asked that you might accept my service in the future, if there was any chance.'
Adam gripped his arm.
'You will always be my friend, Francis. Be sure of that. And Lowenna's, too.'
A door opened and Tolan appeared in the hallway.
He said to Troubridge, 'Your carriage is here, sir, 'but he was looking at Bolitho. 'I have already had your things taken down.'
Troubridge sighed.
'They are closing the house, Captain Bolitho. Sir Graham will no longer be staying in London, I fear. 'He added briskly, the flag lieutenant again, 'You are leaving tomorrow. I had word from Whitehall. I wish you Godspeed and good fortune.'
And to Jago, 'Keep a weather eye on the Captain, will you?'
They shook hands again.
'Until the next horizon, Francis.'
They heard the sharp clatter of wheels, and Adam imagined the eyes at other windows along this quiet street.
Jago said, 'There'll be some grub soon, Cap'n. You must be fair starvin'.'
Adam turned from the door. Troubridge had been waiting for him. In case he was needed.
He saw that Tolan was still standing by the stairs.
'When are you joining Sir Graham? 'He must be truly drained. Otherwise he would have understood.
Jago said harshly, 'The vice-admiral's lady told him to sling his hook! That's the bald truth of it!'
Tolan said, 'I can deal with it.'
Adam sat again. The floor had shifted like a heaving deck, and his legs had almost buckled beneath him.
It was over. He tested each thought before it took shape. Tomorrow I will go home. To Falmouth. To Lowenna. If… He stopped it right there.
'I would relish something to drink, if you please. To swallow today's doubts, and the regrets. 'He paused. 'If you care for it, Tolan, we can make you welcome at Falmouth.'
Jago was nodding, unsmiling. Tolan could only stare at him with incomprehension, his normal composure shaken.
Then he said, 'I'll make sure you never regret it.'
Jago had recognized the signs.
'I'll go with him, an' bear a hand.'
Adam barely heard him. He would fall asleep here and now unless he took a grip of himself.
So quiet. No call to arms, no rattle of drums and stampede of running feet. The knot twisting in your stomach. And the fear you could never show when you were most needed.
He touched the letters inside his coat. Spoke her name.
He knew that somehow she would hear him.
2. Alive Again
The girl named Lowenna winced as her hip jarred against a small table, but she made no sound. She was more aware of the silence, and the floor that was like ice under her bare feet. She could not even remember getting out of bed, and yet her whole body was shivering, and she knew it was not only the cold.
The room was in complete darkness, and yet she thought she could discern the outline of a window, which had not been visible before. Before when? Nancy Roxby, Adam's aunt, had stayed with her for most of the day, making sure she was not alone even for a walk along the headland, where the wind off Falmouth Bay had been like a whetted knife.
She composed herself, running her fingers through her long hair to free it from beneath the thick shawl, which she did not recall taking from the chair.
The house was quiet. Still, as if it were listening. She pulled the shawl closer and felt her heart under her hand. Still beating too fast. The end of a nightmare: the nightmare. But why now? The long struggle was over. With the care and persistence of her guardian, she had won, although she shuddered now at the memory of pain and brutal violation, her pleas and screams only inciting worse attacks. Sometimes she seemed to hear her father's voice, sobbing and imploring them to stop, as if he were the victim.
She walked toward the window, her feet soundless, calming her mind as she had taught herself to do. Nothing could soil this day. Adam was arriving in Falmouth. Today. It was not a dream, or some cherished hoard of
