Chapter Sixteen
A fter a sleepless night, Anna saw him to the dispatch vessel at dawn.
She rose to John’s knock. ‘See me to the ship,’ he said through the door, and it was not a suggestion. She was ready in ten minutes, her hair tied back with a ribbon.
They walked into a day just waking. It touched her when he stood a moment, head up, gauging the wind. ‘Do you always do that?’ she asked curiously.
‘Always. If peace ever breaks out, I will still do it.’
‘What is it telling you this morning?’
‘That coffee is brewing next door and I smell sausages.’
‘Oh, you!’
‘Miss Fontaine, it’s fair winds to Gibraltar.
I’d give a fast boat five days, ten days if we were dropping off orders and official mail.
It is only I, this time.’ He grinned, which, to her delight, threw off five or six years of marine warfare from a tired man.
‘So I would split the difference, ma’am, and call it twelve days. ’
She laughed at his calculations and swatted him with a glove, causing vast consternation among a gaggle of midshipmen nearby.
‘Be careful, Miss Fontaine. Pups like these think captains have no life off a quarterdeck,’ he teased.
He walked in no particular hurry, duffel slung over one shoulder, and her drawn close to his other side. Anna noticed other men and women headed in the same direction.
‘I never knew things were this busy so early,’ she confided. ‘I like my bed.’
‘You might like mine better,’ he said quietly, not looking at her, even as she watched a slow blush rise from his neck, confirming her suspicion that Captain Beattie was a modest man.
She watched him swallow down some emotion, probably because they had arrived at the wharf and he had to be a captain again.
Or is he thinking of Cathy? she wondered. Stop it, Anna .
Another thought from last night shoved its way closer: she kept picturing his relief at this solution to his current dilemma. After all, he’d never really proposed, but said, ‘ See you in the Mediterranean. ’
Don’t overthink this, Anna , she told herself firmly. Give the man some room. He said something about convenience. She considered it, remembering, And so did I .
‘Which ship?’ she asked, almost overcome by the sudden reality that she couldn’t bear to see him sail away. If she felt this way before even putting that common licence to good use, how would she feel after?
He pointed. ‘The Constant .’
To her horror, it didn’t look much larger than a toy in a bathtub. ‘It’s so small.’
‘The better to move fast. You and the children will sail in a larger vessel.’
He kissed her cheek, gave her a long, silent appraisal, then turned and walked up the gangplank, not looking back. As she watched other men board the ship, none of them looked back, either. Not because you don’t want to , she thought, suddenly understanding, but because it is so hard to do .
Anna and her children sailed two weeks later on the sloop of war Jaunty , glorying in a single gun deck and twelve carronades—which looked like pea-shooters—and bound for Gibraltar.
Packing was simple. Allan had little, Pru even less.
Captain Beattie had already vetoed anything woollen in the Mediterranean, so that lightened her load but not by much, since most of her dresses were wool.
Her flannel nightgowns needed to vanish, too, but she didn’t have anything lighter.
Mrs Fillion had solved her problem as she’d stood by, watching her pack.
‘Grace, I have never lived in a warm climate,’ Anna said, holding up her nightgown.
‘Captain Beattie has been on short rations for a few years, my dear. Flannel will not deter him.’
I’m surprised I have a single blush left , Anna thought.
‘One moment.’ Grace left the room, returning with a blue cotton nightgown that looked almost transparent, to Anna’s embarrassment. ‘It packs small,’ she said, smiling at Anna’s big eyes.
People continued to surprise her. Anna had assumed that Mrs Moore would come along, because her housekeeper and friend had willingly followed her from Papa’s parish after his death, and then ruled supreme in Will’s Plymouth kitchen. Still, it was good form to ask.
So she asked her old friend in the kitchen, where she spent most of her time.
To Anna’s astonishment, Pierre dropped his stirring spoon in the soup and clasped Mrs Moore to his ample chest. ‘ Mais non, mademoiselle , elle est à moi! ’ was his fervent comment, which had turned Mrs Moore into a blushing young thing of forty-two.
‘No, dearie, not this time,’ had been her friend’s reply. ‘I’m staying here.’ She giggled. ‘P’raps because I love Plymouth so well.’
That last night in Plymouth, Anna had debated about confiding in Grace. Something propelled her out of bed and down the hall for a quiet tap on the door. ‘Grace,’ she said when the door opened, ‘I have a dilemma.’
What a wise woman Grace was. ‘Tell me your fear,’ she said quietly.
‘Can we really be happy in a convenient marriage such as this one will be? There is so much at stake, especially for the children.’
Grace raised her chin and gazed so kindly into her eyes. ‘I know you have both chosen well. Marriages are just as likely to succeed for convenience as for love.’
‘There isn’t much time for love during war,’ Anna pointed out.
‘No, there isn’t. However, you never knew his Cathy. She was a bonny lass and they were deep in love.’
‘Do you think…?’ She trailed off, not really wanting to finish her thought.
‘Just be yourself,’ Grace said gently.
‘Lately, I’ve been wondering just who I am. I’m a little low on courage at the moment.’
Grace smiled. ‘Low on courage? When you crossed the lobby and sought me out after that pernicious dealing with the estate agent, I saw something in your eyes.’
‘Abject terror?’
‘Far from it,’ Grace said firmly. ‘That day, I saw a little lady with the heart of a lion.’ She chuckled. ‘Since this is the Royal Navy we’re talking about, perhaps a heart of oak.’