Chapter Five
O utside on the street again, the captain put his finger to her lips briefly when she opened her mouth. ‘I will have no argument from you, Miss Fontaine, about that money.’
‘But…’
‘I will sleep better at night, knowing that you, my son and Pru are safe. I say to you again, don’t argue.’
‘Aye, sir, aye,’ she said, half-teasing, half-serious, which startled her, too. What was happening to her calm, well-ordered life?
‘And now?’ she asked, feeling the need for a monumental change of subject.
‘The Drake, Miss Fontaine,’ he told her. ‘Look lively, now. The Swallow must sail soon.’
She had passed the Drake Hotel many times, always impressed by the nearly constant flow of Navy men to and from its stately entrance. But to go inside? She hesitated.
‘Come, come, Miss Fontaine. I want you to meet Mrs Fillion, a remarkable woman who started here as a maid and now owns it. Will might have left something here.’
Mystified, she followed him to the lobby, which somehow gave off an air of power, further amplified by officers grouped around a doorway into a room with what looked like a card game in progress. At this hour of the morning?
Captain Beattie must have noticed her amazement. ‘This is what we call the Perpetual Whist Game. It starts early and never ends.’
‘It’s been going on for years,’ said a woman with a distinctly Irish lilt to her words.
Startled, Anna turned around to see a woman dressed in serviceable black, with curly red hair shot through with grey. To Anna’s amazement, Captain Beattie solemnly kissed her cheek.
‘Home from sea, Mrs Fillion, sound of wind and limb,’ he said, then, ‘Miss Fontaine, we always greet this hotelier with a kiss and that very reassurance. You’re looking at durable Royal Navy tradition. Miss Fontaine, meet Mrs Fillion.’
Anna shook the extended hand. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance,’ she said. The handshake signalled an equality that Anna relished. So did the kindness in the other woman’s eyes.
Anna had to admire Captain Beattie, a man becoming more adept at explaining his fraught situation quickly. When he finished, Mrs Fillion touched Anna’s hand. ‘Accept my sympathy on the death of your brother. These are indeed trying times.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I am so glad you took in the Captain’s son.’ Mrs Fillion’s eyes misted over. ‘So much suffering at sea, and at home. It beggars belief. What may I help you with?’
‘If you please, let us into your storeroom,’ he said. ‘I think there is something for Miss Fontaine on your shelves.’
What? Anna thought as she followed them down the steps off the lobby.
‘Mrs Fillion lets us keep personal effects down here. Letters that go astray end up here. This is often the last resting place of dead men’s possessions.’ He took her hand. ‘Steep stairs, Miss Fontaine. Before he died, your brother said there was something of his here.’
Mrs Fillion turned to Anna. ‘If my officers only have time to drop off possessions, I contact their loved ones.’
‘So much work for you,’ Anna said. ‘I admire you for doing this.’
‘We all do,’ Captain Beattie said. ‘I’ve left items here, too.’
He stood close to her—it was a tight space—but there was room to back away. She didn’t. Why, she couldn’t have said. She could consider it when he was at sea and not smelling so nicely of bay rum and something else—probably just Captain Beattie.
‘Do you alphabetize us, Mrs F?’ he asked, which made Anna and Mrs Fillion laugh.
‘I do, Captain B. Follow me to the Fs.’
Mrs Fillion counted off two shelves, reached up and handed her a small box—perhaps a ring box?
‘When did…?’ Anna asked as she took it.
‘I date them. Look, last year. April.’
‘Open it. It’s yours now,’ Captain Beattie urged.
She did, and stared at what must be a lady’s wedding ring, filigreed and lovely. ‘I had no idea… He never said he’d met someone…’ She shook her head. ‘This makes me so sad.’
The Captain put his arm around her. ‘In late winter and early spring, we were cruising off Jamaica, with time for shore leave. We returned with the fleet and anchored off Gibraltar.’ He hesitated, then, ‘Your brother was exemplary in his duties, but he was not talkative.’
‘No, he was not,’ she admitted, and then opened a small door into her heart. ‘I wish we had both been more forthcoming with one another.’
‘I have no idea what this meant to him, or who it was meant for.’ He surprised Anna then and, from the look on Mrs Fillion’s face, surprised her as well, by adding, ‘I could be more forthcoming, too. Is it the curse of captaincy?’
‘I wouldn’t know, sir, although I am certain the Admiralty makes harsh demands on men. And women wait.’ Anna touched the ring. ‘And wait, never to know.’
‘It’s yours now, Miss Fontaine. Perhaps you can wear it someday,’ Mrs Fillion said gently.
‘That seems unlikely,’ she said quietly . She closed the box, knowing that somewhere in the world, a woman waited for news that would never come. ‘I will never know any more than this. I’ll tuck it away.’
She waited in silence upstairs while the captain and Mrs Fillion discussed someone from the Drake picking up the boxes from his house and storing them here, in this cellar of forgotten memories.
‘Please ask your man to take this to Bledsoe’s.’ He held out a key. ‘He’s the estate agent.’
‘I will, Captain Beattie,’ Mrs Fillion promised.
‘I’m off then. My time is short.’
Don’t say that , Anna thought in sudden alarm. It’s too final . She chastised herself inwardly, well aware that it was merely conversation and nothing more.
‘Good sailing, Captain Beattie,’ Mrs Fillion said, giving him a firm handshake.
Someone called for Mrs Fillion at the front desk, a captain on crutches.
She started towards him, then turned back to Anna. ‘I am always here if you need me.’
‘Oh, I…’
‘If you need me, Miss Fontaine,’ she repeated.
They walked back to Covent Street in silence.
She glanced at the man beside her a few times, wondering if he regretted what he was about to do.
She wanted to tell him not to worry, that she would never fail him, even as she cringed inside at this enormous responsibility which had been thrust upon her.
Her street was quiet and calm as usual. When the Captain opened the door, she shook off her fears at the sound of running steps and a little boy with his arms open wide.
Captain Beattie crouched down and held him close. Anna turned to close the door and saw two of her neighbours, heads together, across the street, looking at her. She waved, but they did not respond, only turned away and continued their conversation, with a glance or two in her direction. Odd, that.
Mrs Moore had prepared a luncheon, eaten in the kitchen, the five of them close together, with Allan on his father’s lap, because there were only so many chairs. Allan nestled close to his father, his cheek against gilt buttons.
‘I have no way of knowing how long I will be in Portsmouth,’ Captain Beattie said finally, as he set down his fork.
‘I do know that when I return here it will be a brief stay—very brief. Rumour suggests that we might attach ourselves to Collingwood’s Mediterranean fleet, but that remains to be seen. ’
He touched his son’s dark hair, a contrast to his own red hair with its many lighter highlights. ‘Allan, your mother’s hair was so brown and pretty,’ he said, ‘very much like Miss Fontaine’s hair.’
Anna asked herself why a mundane observation to a six-year-old should make her face feel warm, but it did. It’s nothing special , she wanted to tell them both, looking away.
When she looked back, he was the captain again.
‘Son, mind your manners and help the ladies when asked. I must leave now.’ He regarded Pru, who moved her chair closer to Allan in a protective gesture. ‘You have allies, Pru. Mrs Moore and Miss Fontaine are here to help, not frighten you.’
‘You can be certain of that, Captain Beattie,’ Mrs Moore said, sounding militant.
Anna couldn’t help but smile. ‘Sir, I am most fortunate in Mrs Moore, and no, if peace breaks out you cannot steal her.’
Perfect. They all laughed.
‘Miss Fontaine, don’t I intimidate you?’ Captain Beattie joked.
Did he?
‘No, sir. You have a good heart,’ Anna said impulsively.
‘Don’t tell anyone, will you?’
‘Your secret is safe with me. God go with you,’ she said quietly.
‘And you, kind lady.’ After a long moment, Captain Beattie set his son down. ‘Walk me to the door, Allan. You, too, Miss Fontaine.’
‘All of us will,’ Mrs Moore said.
‘Aye aye, Captain Moore,’ the captain replied, and gave her a smart salute, so at least they were smiling as he opened the door.
As Anna watched, he gathered his son close. Allan cried, and he soothed him with soft words—Gaelic words, something heard in distant Scotland.
‘Go to Pru,’ he said, and Allan did, the two children clinging close, as they must have clung to each other when they had no idea what would happen to them. Anna put away that image because there was something equally difficult happening right now. How did Navy families manage farewells?
‘Do not fear, Captain Beattie,’ she said. ‘You brought him to the right house.’
‘I know I did,’ he said. ‘It may be the best thing I have done in years.’
‘Do not fear,’ she said again, but for his ears only.
Mrs Moore handed the captain his boat cloak. Pru found his hat and gave it to him.
He kissed Allan again. ‘I’ll see you when I can, you know I will.’
Mrs Moore headed the children towards what Anna hoped were biscuits in the kitchen. It only remained for Captain Beattie to close the door. He stepped out, looked down as if he wasn’t quite sure of his footing, then back at her.
‘Miss Fontaine, I sound like a perfect rogue, but I need a hug and here you are.’
With no hesitation, she stepped onto the wide front step.
He enveloped her in an embrace that she suddenly realised she badly needed, too.
Yesterday, she’d waited to hug her brother.
That would never happen again on this earth.
Here was a near-stranger holding her close as if his life depended on it. Maybe it did; she had his son.
‘He’s all I have,’ he whispered as he held her close.
‘I know. I will never let you down.’
Then he was gone. She couldn’t watch, even as her neighbour across the street did so avidly. She closed the door, leaned against it and briefly wondered if this was how husbands and wives felt upon parting.
‘Captain Beattie, I will not fail you,’ she announced. ‘Never.’