Chapter Two
A nna Fontaine spent the afternoon weeping for her brother. Her housekeeper and friend Mrs Moore cried, too, both of them grieving. The other woman finally left to brew tea, that English remedy for all ills, and it helped.
Finally drained and dry of eye, Anna sat close to Mrs Moore. ‘I wonder what will happen to us,’ she said. ‘Will’s captain said he would visit this evening to discuss finances.’
‘Finances?’ her friend asked as she poured more tea.
‘Will lodges—lodged—his salary and prize money with Carter and Brustein,’ Anna explained.
‘He always left me with sufficient funds to manage.’ She looked away, remembering that conversation.
‘I wish he could have added my name to his account. Are such things possible?’ She managed a smile.
‘We ladies are kept in the dark about money.’
‘That is why Captain Beattie is coming here?’
‘So he said. Will told me that the captain is a widower, his wife having died of consumption several years ago. I imagine he treasures every moment with his child. Time is short for such a man.’
She thought about that later, as the terrible loss of her brother grew in proportion to her awareness of her situation.
Unfortunately, war and national emergency had kept her brother from shore, where he could have found a wife.
And she was a spinster at twenty-nine and would never see offspring of her own.
What now? She knew the rent was due soon, but after that? ‘Mrs Moore, what is going to become of us?’ she asked.
‘There are your mother’s relatives near Bristol, my dear.’
‘I know, but none of them were pleased when Papa let Will go to sea.’ She remembered the arguments, with Will storming off until Papa gave grudging permission for his only son to serve as a Young Gentleman in Mama’s many times removed cousin’s frigate.
That had led to years as a midshipman, followed by second lieutenancy, and then his recent rank of first lieutenant aboard the Swallow .
‘And who will want a spinster hanging around?’
She left the rest unsaid, the bleak prospect of being the Unwanted Cousin left to fetch and carry. She chose not to think of Will dying in battle and leaving her not only extremely sad but poor and a burden.
True to form, in moments when she had too many thoughts, Anna spent the rest of the day rearranging the linen closet and contemplating the enormity of her dear brother’s death. ‘Where are you even buried?’ she asked the bath sheets she folded and refolded.
Supper was bread and soup, eaten in the kitchen. Anna thought of the times her housekeeper had insisted on maintaining the propriety of a house, with its mistress in the dining room and the help in the kitchen. This was different. William Fontaine was dead, changing the order of things.
‘Captain Beattie will be here tonight,’ Anna said, desperate to know more.
‘We need to know something,’ Mrs Moore added.
We need to know a lot , Anna told herself. They sat in silence and waited.
Was it fear or relief when he finally knocked? Anna hurried to the front door.
So much for the morning’s stalwart captain who had so impressed her earlier. She opened her door on an exhausted man with desperation writ large on a face that might have been handsome in easier times.
‘C…come in, sir,’ she managed.
Two children stood so close to him that they looked attached with glue. It touched her heart when he gave them a gentle push forward. She held the door open wider.
Captain Beattie flashed her a look of gratitude. ‘I’ll explain, Miss Fontaine.’
‘I know you will, sir,’ she replied. ‘There’s the sitting room, with a nice fire.
It’s warm,’ she added, noting the older girl’s thin cloak.
Who was she? The small boy’s clothing was better, but his eyes were filled with terror.
What in the world? she thought, forgetting for a moment her own anxiety.
Some instinct told her that theirs was worse.
A widow with two grown children of her own, Mrs Moore knew hunger when she saw it. She didn’t wait for an introduction. ‘I have soup and bread in the kitchen. Come along, children.’
The little ones seemed to recognise a command when they heard it. So did Captain Beattie, apparently. ‘Aye, go with the nice lady.’
Mrs Moore shepherded them out, but not before whispering to Anna, ‘Something’s afoot.’
Anna gestured the captain into the sitting room. He went to the fireplace to warm his hands, staying there so long Anna knew he was at a loss for words. She began the conversation, not sure where to start.
‘Sir? You said something about Will’s finances, but tell me first, was there no surgeon on board the Swallow ?’
Anna wished she hadn’t been so blunt. His look of real distress showed her a captain not used to failing his men.
‘Miss Fontaine, I will regret that until I die,’ he said simply. ‘Your brother assured me that his injury was a trifling matter, and agreed that our surgeon should go to the Royal Sovereign , where there were many more wounded.’
She understood. In her heart, a greater question remained. ‘Did my brother suffer?’
‘I fear he did, but it was over quickly,’ he replied simply.
Anna folded her hands in her lap and continued, knowing without knowing how, that this man’s suffering equalled hers. ‘I take comfort that he does not suffer now , and has done his duty.’
‘Miss Fontaine, I held his hand to the end.’ He took his own deep breath, and in the deepest recesses of her heart Anna felt the cost of his war.
Captain Beattie took out a sheet of paper from inside his uniform jacket and handed it to her, apologising for the much folded and crumpled final will of her brother. She noted Will’s shaky signature and swallowed down her tears.
He gave her a moment, leaning back. ‘Miss Fontaine, let us go to Carter and Brustein tomorrow morning and settle this matter. With this signature, Shlomo Brustein will settle Will’s finances on your behalf.’
‘I greatly appreciate this. Thank you, sir.’ She gave the will into his keeping once more.
He returned his gaze to her face, and she realised that he had a bigger issue at hand than mere money. It must be the children. But what about them? She waited for him to speak.
‘Miss Fontaine, you don’t know me.’ Silence, then, ‘Can you trust me? I need your help and I have nowhere to turn.’
Captain Beattie was right: she didn’t know him, beyond Will’s words that he was from Scotland’s Kirkcudbrightshire, and that he was a widower with a child. She had known a few Scots in her admittedly sheltered life.
‘I know you are from Scotland. Will named a place.’
‘Kirkcudbrightshire. Spring Hill, to be specific.’ He managed a smile and seemed to relax a little. ‘Will probably told you we Scots are a bossy, swearing type.’
‘He did mention that,’ she said, keeping her voice light. There was so much here she didn’t understand.
‘My crew tell me they have never heard such creative swearing when we are under attack. I plead guilty to that.’ His shoulders rose again as the tension returned. ‘Miss Fontaine, I need your help most desperately.’
She sat in silence long enough to hear the mantelpiece clock ticking. ‘You had better tell me. Then I will know if I can trust you .’
He had a way about him, looking directly into her eyes. Anna realised that he was treating her as his equal. How she knew, she could not say.
‘Let me lay this before you,’ he began, settling into the chair, not taking his eyes from her face. ‘My wife died of consumption that plagued her all of our brief married life. I knew that when I married her.’
He puffed out his cheeks in an entirely human gesture that told Anna much about this man. She almost leaned forward to touch his hand.
‘I have no relatives in England. Three years ago, I arranged for a housekeeper who cooks, a scullery maid and a nanny for my son. I paid them well, and I reposed much confidence in them.’
Anna held her breath as a dark look came into his eyes. ‘Oh, my,’ she whispered. ‘Something happened.’
‘Aye. For the last three years, I’ve sailed into Plymouth, visited a few days and reacquainted myself with Allan.’ He looked down at his hands. ‘It was different this time.’
He looked up in surprise as the door opened and Mrs Moore came in, her face cheerful as usual. ‘Anna, you should see these little ones eat! I made more sandwiches. Would you…’ her housekeeper glanced from her to the captain, and her expression changed ‘…like some?’
‘Later, my dear,’ Anna said gently. ‘Give us a moment.’
Mrs Moore closed the door.
‘Go on, Captain Beattie,’ Anna said as she braced herself. ‘What did you find this time?’
His eyes filled with tears. He sat in silence until he could speak. ‘I let myself into the house tonight. It was dark. The scullery maid, Pru, stood there with a poker, ready to strike me.’
‘Good God!’
‘I reminded her who I was, and Pru collapsed in tears at my feet.’
‘Where…where was Allan?’ Anna asked apprehensively.
‘She’d told him to stay in the kitchen with the door closed.’ He wiped his eyes. ‘She was ready to defend him with her life.’
‘But…’
‘The housekeeper and the nanny?’ he said, biting off the words this time.
‘Gone these last two months, after warning her not to let anyone in the house or leave it, on pain of death. Evil, wicked women! They fooled me. I thought they were dependable and kind. How could I have been so foolish? God, I am an idiot!’
He was on his feet now, pacing back and forth, his face a mask of pain, as if he watched the whole thing unroll again in his mind’s eye.
Anna waited, reminding herself to breathe. And think. What would I want someone to do if this had happened to me? she asked herself when the roaring in her head diminished.
Anna stood up and took his arm, which demanded all her courage. She knew better than anyone how quietly she lived, troubling no one and causing no disturbance to the universe. She felt his pain; it was almost palpable.
He stopped walking. She patted his arm, astounded at her own temerity. ‘It’s done now. It’s over. They’re safe in my kitchen, eating. They’re…’
‘Aye, they are! God help me, what would have happened to them if I had not returned alive from Trafalgar?’ he asked in anguish.
Without thinking, she reached up and covered his eyes with her hands.
It was a momentary, impulsive act, and she took her hands away quickly, but not before Captain Beattie had regained his composure.
He sank into his chair again. He gestured for her to sit, masterful in his command of his emotions, probably earned the hard way at sea in battle.
She sat, but this time her hand rested on his arm.
Her touch seemed to soothe him. He sounded almost normal when he spoke. ‘For two months they survived on scraps from the pantry, and Pru kept my son safe. She’s only ten years old, or as near as she can figure. Imagine her terror.’
Anna imagined. She waited for what she knew was coming, and had her answer before he spoke, even though the responsibility made her quail.
‘Miss Fontaine, I must sail tomorrow afternoon for Portsmouth and the drydocks there. I have nowhere to leave my son and Pru, except with you.’
Even as she wondered in her heart where this would lead, she leaned closer and meant every word. ‘They can stay with me until you make other arrangements. You can trust me, Captain Beattie.’ Should she? Yes. ‘For my brother’s sake, and for the children’s, I will not let you down.’