Chapter Fifteen
I t was a good question. Maybe it was forward of her, but Anna wanted to know, especially since she knew every moment counted with a man expected back on duty soon.
She knew it had to wait as Grace joined them and gently patted the children.
‘Up and about, you two. It’s time to set the tables in the dining room. ’
Allan and Pru perked up in that magical way of children revived by the smallest rest, and went to their next duty with no complaint.
What did Captain Beattie want ? She knew he had no time to be a father, but here he was. Hopefully, she could convince him to let them stay precisely where they were. It was just the two of them now, something rare, Anna realised. She waited for the Captain to speak.
‘I’ve found the perfect woman to care for my son.’
Anna had thought she was ready for such awful news, but she couldn’t help her sudden intake of breath. He had found someone.
What to do with more bad news?
‘How fortunate for you, sir,’ she said, not daring to look at him, because that would make her sob out loud.
‘I’m glad you feel that way. I’m relieved, there’s no denying it.’
It was too hard. She stood up, eager to leave, even though that was bad manners.
‘John Beattie, make sure she knows Allan likes to be read to at bedtime, and then sing a song, although he did recently hear a bawdy one by the wharf that made me wince. And…and he has a favourite spoon—don’t ask me why. Hopefully, the woman you have chosen knows more about children than I do.’
‘Miss Fontaine—’
She ignored him. This whole business, begun in such desperation a few months ago, had turned into something she was quite unprepared for, even though she’d known it was coming. How would Allan cope? More to the point, if she wanted to think of herself, how would she?
‘I think Grace would let him take the spoon. Allan and Pru are thick as thieves, so this woman had better be prepared to take her, too.’ She couldn’t help herself, even if it sounded like whining. ‘Drat you, Captain. We were rubbing along so well here.’
There weren’t too many steps to the door leading above-stairs.
She knew better than to make a scene in the lobby, but maybe there was somewhere in Plymouth that didn’t remind her of the Royal Navy.
Now, where would that be, you nincompoop?
she asked herself. She crossed the room and put her hand on the doorknob, only to have the Captain put his hand against the door and keep it firmly shut.
‘I don’t work for you,’ she said, staring straight ahead at the door. ‘You can’t stop me.’
‘Look at me.’
Now that was a tone of voice she had never heard before from him. There was nothing of command, or frustration, or worry. If she hadn’t known better, he sounded like a hopeful lover in one of those silly romances that she and Grace giggled over late at night when the lobby was empty.
To make certain, she looked. His face was the same, still giving off that air of capability.
He had a little scar by his left eye. She was no expert, but she’d say he hadn’t shaved in a day or two.
Thank goodness women didn’t need to shave.
Nice blue eyes. And wouldn’t you know it, eyelashes that she could probably envy, if she gave the matter any thought, which she resolved never to do, because he was taking away her lovely Allan.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, ‘You’re only doing what you promised you would. I hope you found someone good.’
He rolled his eyes, something she was certain no one on any ship he’d captained had ever seen from this solemn man. ‘Miss Fontaine, let us come to an understanding,’ he began. ‘You are looking at the most stupid man who ever lived.’
‘I doubt that,’ she said impulsively. ‘You’re forgetting that dreadful curate, may he rot in a leper colony somewhere, but he never will, because he would never volunteer to come within one hundred miles of one.’
He laughed. ‘You’re going to be a source of continual amusement,’ he said, still sounding both proprietary and oddly loverlike. To her further surprise, Captain Beattie put his warm palm over her mouth to stop her. Oh, dear, she liked the feeling of it far too much.
‘I obviously haven’t a single brain in my head,’ he whispered in her ear.
‘ You’re the woman I was talking about, Anna.
You’re the perfect woman. You think I’d be better at declaring myself, considering that I’ve done it once before, but I apparently haven’t learned a thing.
’ He took his palm away and pulled her close.
‘Let go of me, please,’ she managed.
‘I’d rather not,’ he replied.
‘My dress is riding up.’
‘Doesn’t bother me.’
‘Grace will have something to say about this,’ she tried.
‘She’ll go back upstairs.’
Captain Beattie grabbed her behind her knees and sat down with her in his lap.
She gasped in surprise, but then tentatively leaned against his chest, which meant his arms went around her.
She had convinced herself years ago that any lady over twenty was too old to cuddle. She had clearly been wrong.
He didn’t seem to want to say anything more for the moment, and Anna didn’t mind.
She found herself enjoying the sound of his beating heart.
Her practical brain reminded her that hearts beat.
That was what they were supposed to do, or everyone would be a corpse.
As she listened to someone else’s heart, she knew she was never going to be alone again, not ever, provided this little event in the kitchen of the Drake went somewhere.
With every fibre of her being, she realised she wanted that. So…
‘John Beattie, what are you planning, if I am the perfect woman?’
‘Up you get,’ he said, making her wish she had said nothing.
He didn’t go far, only to his duffel, where he pulled out an oilskin pouch. He sat down again and patted his lap. She knew what to do and did it; she was educable, after all.
‘Admiral Collingwood summoned me from the blockade to his flagship to speak about my next assignment.’ He held what looked like orders. ‘Orders are usually boring. I’ll condense it. For the first time in my life, I have dream orders that other captains would kill for.’
‘Our side or their side?’ she asked, which made him laugh.
‘Probably both, if I am honest.’
‘Is it dangerous, Captain?’
‘Orders on an ocean in wartime?’ he teased. ‘I did have an inkling when I left here that such orders might be offered to me.’
She could joke, too. ‘If you’re so busy, why am I sitting on your lap?’
‘It’s the smartest thing you ever did. The Admiral was busy with correspondence, so I sat in the wardroom and opened my mail from Allan, Mrs Fillion, and you.’
He fell silent. She understood his feelings. ‘We waited to write to you,’ she told him gently. ‘Allan was upset, and I even found our hardy Pru sniffling in the pantry.’ He took her hand. ‘We wanted to have a good story to tell you. I… I suppose our letters broke your heart. We didn’t mean to.’
‘Aye, they did,’ he said, and she heard his remorse. ‘I’m still amazed at my sheer gall in foisting my troubles onto you. Ah, well. I handed Admiral Collingwood your letters when he saw how upset I was. He read them and told me his own story.’
She listened to Captain Beattie tell of a husband and father denied the chance to return home to his wife and young daughters, because of the need for vigilance in the Mediterranean Sea, Admiral Nelson’s final command.
‘Old Cuddy will likely never see his family again and he wants someone to be more lucky than he. I am to be the beneficiary.’
He found another paper, this one looking like parchment, and handed it to her.
‘This is a common licence, signed by the Bishop of Winchester. I put you in a precarious position with my well-meaning hug. I cannot in good conscience leave you in ruin. Admiral Collingwood sees this as a convenient solution to our troubles and I cannot argue with him. It is convenient. Miss Fontaine, I am a gentleman. I do not ruin ladies.’
‘I know you do not, Captain Beattie.’
She gave him a sideways look, feeling shy again, and wondering why, or even if, this excellent, harried, exhausted man cared anything about her, beyond his desire to do the right thing.
‘These licences are for people in a hurry,’ she said, and left unsaid, Aren’t they for people in love?
That question seemed out of place here. She wanted to assure him that she was not in a hurry, because she and the children had found a peaceful haven.
Sitting on his lap, she decided that a lap might prove to be a peaceful haven, too.
‘Aye, these licences are for those of us in a hurry. My ship is my parish, but it is not a place to cry the banns.’ He rested his hands palms up in her lap. ‘I have done nothing but disturb your peace, shame you and force you to…to…’
‘Dig a little deeper and help someone in need?’
He took the licence from her. For one awful moment, Anna feared he was going to rip it into pieces.
He tapped her hands with it. ‘It’s good for three months, ma’am, any morning between eight and noon, except Sundays.
I must leave for Gibraltar tomorrow on another fast dispatch.
Before I go, may I ask the harbourmaster to alert you when the next sloop of war or frigate is heading there?
’ He patted his chest and she heard paper crackle.
‘Collingwood gave me a pass to do that. That is, if you are willing to bring along Allan and take a chance on me.’
‘And Pru,’ she added. ‘I won’t come without her, too.’
‘Of course. Will you come?’
Under the quiet question, she heard all the uncertainty and worry that must keep such a father and captain awake at night.
She had a practical mind and realised that this marriage would be extremely convenient for them both, removing her from the shame of her Plymouth circumstances, even though not of her doing, and providing both Allan and Pru with security.
‘I believe I will come, Captain Beattie,’ she said, her voice equally quiet. She had to say it. ‘I promise not to make any particular demands on you. War is not the time for that.’
She saw relief on his face, which saddened her for a moment, until she reminded herself that they barely knew each other. And there was this: Anna Fontaine had learned since January that she was far stronger than she’d thought.
‘I will come.’
‘Done, madam. See you in the Mediterranean.’