Chapter Six
Anna had debated whether to leave the boy alone with his faithful Pru, but had decided on a different tack, spending time every day with him, playing jackstraws or reading.
She remembered Will’s attentions when they were children and how often he’d jollied her out of pouts, considering it his duty to cheer her up.
Mere days ago, such a memory might have reduced her to tears. Instead, she chose to honour Will by remembrance.
‘Will generally always beat me at jackstraws,’ she grumbled, looking at her pitiful pile of slender wooden rods. ‘I’m just not patient, and he was.’
‘Did he make you cry when you lost?’ Allan asked as he carefully tugged a stick from the jumble and nothing quivered.
‘No. He was much nicer than that, you scamp!’ She laughed, pleased at the memory, which could have broken her heart but didn’t, mainly because she’d discovered she liked jackstraws and little boys. ‘Will also let me walk with him, even though I knew he would rather have been with his friends.’
‘If my father had time, would he play jackstraws with me?’
‘Certainly,’ she assured him, sensing in her heart that Captain Beattie would do exactly that. She suddenly wanted to give Napoleon a piece of her mind for ruining so many childhood dreams.
Luncheon always meant smiles, as she and Mrs Moore watched their young charges eat with enthusiasm. ‘We could probably feed them a cauliflower and beet purée and they would smack their lips and ask for more,’ she whispered to Mrs Moore.
At first, bedtime was harder, Allan inconsolable at sleeping by himself in Will’s room. Pru had happily followed Mrs Moore downstairs, but here was Allan, alone.
Anna knelt by Allan, and he folded into her arms. ‘Papa slept in here with me yesterday,’ he said through his tears. ‘Papa’s gone now.’
She felt her own eyes welling. ‘My dear, I don’t think I could spend a night in my brother’s room,’ she managed. ‘He meant everything to me, and it’s hard, with him gone.’
God bless Mrs Moore. ‘There is a boy-sized cot in the storeroom. We could put it in your room?’
‘We could. Would you agree to that, Allan?’
‘My feet will still be cold,’ he told her dolefully. ‘Pru has warm feet and so does my father.’
If you were my very own, I would keep your feet warm , Anna thought, surprising herself with a fleeting, impish thought: How would it feel to have Captain Beattie and her sandwiching his son between them? Anna, really , she scolded herself. Think of something else.
‘Allan, have you ever slept with a pig before?’
‘No, miss,’ he said, eyes wide.
‘The pig I have in mind is made of pottery and filled with hot water. I will wrap a towel around this pig and put him at the foot of your cot.’
‘He’ll warm my feet?’
‘Yes. And we’ll put your cot right by my bed. Will that work for you?’
He considered the matter, and frowned. ‘What about the rest of me?’
‘I promise you that once your feet are warm, you’ll fall right to sleep.’
‘Promise?’
‘Promise.’
Allan nodded. ‘I’ll do it.’
And he did, after helping Anna make up the cot they carried upstairs and deposited close to her bed. The pig came next, wrapped in a light cloth, then placed at the foot of his cot, between the sheets and blanket.
He patted his pillow. ‘Miss Fontaine, is Pru downstairs with Mrs Moore?’
‘She is. You’ll see her in the morning.’
He hung his head. ‘When I cried at night, Pru held my hand. Does Papa cry at night?’
Her heart opened wider to this child of a man nearly always at sea, because evil men schemed to control the world. Here she was, answering questions that Captain Beattie would probably give the earth to answer, because he loved his son.
‘He probably does sniff a bit, when no one is watching.’
‘He won’t mind if I cry sometimes?’
‘Ask him, the next time you see him.’
She saw the sudden fear. ‘He will be back, won’t he?’ he asked.
Even so close to her, Allan Beattie wasn’t close enough. She pulled him onto her lap.
What to say? Yesterday’s Anna Fontaine had vanished, replaced by a woman aware of the huge responsibility thrust upon her because she’d opened her door to a desperate father. She pushed Fear away and there stood Resolve, perhaps a little hesitant, but still a calming presence.
‘He will be back, Allan. I know it.’
She held her breath, but he went willingly to bed. When he reached up to her, she lay down on her bed and held his hand.
‘Are your feet warm?’ she asked.
‘They are.’ He yawned. ‘Papa needs one of these.’
‘We have another one. He can use it, when he returns.’
Allan yawned again, closed his eyes and slept. She listened for his even breathing, then quietly went downstairs, wondering how Mrs Moore was faring. She found more tears, and Pru on her housekeeper’s lap. She flashed her friend a What-have-we-got-into? look.
She sat beside Mrs Moore and touched Pru’s leg. ‘I hope you’re not worried about Allan,’ she said. ‘He’s warm with that pig in his bed, and already asleep.’
Pru hung her head. ‘I did a bad thing, Miss Fontaine.’
‘It couldn’t have been too bad. The house is still standing,’ Anna replied.
Her reward was a tiny smile, then the return of remorse writ large. ‘Miss Fontaine, I broke a glass. I didn’t mean to, but I broke it.’
Mrs Moore looked at her. Pru looked at her. Anna knew she was in charge, responsible, and resolute because Captain Beattie had left her in charge. She gently cupped her hands around the scullery maid’s face. It startled the child at first.
I doubt anyone has ever touched Pru with kindness , Anna thought. She kept her hands on Pru’s face, relieved to see her shoulders lower as she relaxed.
‘There now, Pru. Let me tell you what I require of you in this house. We work together. When things break, as they sometimes do, we sweep them up and that is the end of it.’ She kissed Pru’s forehead.
Her own doubts were swept away when Pru put her hands over hers. ‘I will always look after Allan Beattie, Miss Fontaine.’
‘And I will look after you, my dear.’