Chapter Twenty-Eight
E xploring a new house, more exotic and grand than she ever could have imagined—hers was a logical mind—convinced Anna that she could overlook those little green lizards that even invaded houses. She clapped her hands with pleasure to see an actual bed.
Evidently Allan had a logical mind, too. ‘Missy, it’s only a bed. Pru and I have already found two more rooms with beds just down the hall.’ He grinned at his father, who listened to this whole exchange with something more than glee, if the slow wink he gave Anna was any indication.
When the children raced after Admiral Collingwood, her husband sat her down on the bed. ‘Will it work? We could try it out right now.’
‘You are absurd,’ she countered, then smiled at his Navy humour. ‘Very well, let’s close the door, but if one of those lizards I see on the balcony decides to land on us, one of us—I volunteer—will scream and the children will be back here. Care to explain that?’
‘Mrs Beattie, you are the rascal,’ he said. ‘I can wait.’
And he did, happy to explore the house with her, starting with its amazing view from their second-floor balcony, once he’d evicted the lizards. ‘What a sight. I can’t see the bay from here, but I am certain we can from the beach, as the admiral said. Perfect.’
After a long look, they followed the children down the corridor. She watched Allan and Pru, hand in hand with the admiral. ‘John, it’s heartbreaking; all he wants is his family with him.’
‘I know.’
‘He’s been so kind to us,’ she said simply, not wanting to consider even a month without her husband but knowing she’d have to.
‘Aye, Mrs Beattie. I can give you no guarantee how often I can drag myself up the Pigtail Steps to…um…test the bed.’
‘Then we will leave it in God’s hands,’ she told him. ‘And you’re still a rascal.’
Where was this silliness of hers coming from?
She asked herself that as she adjusted her tattered cloak of dignity around her and was all politeness when the admiral introduced them to Hector and Hermione Durand, the house’s caretaker and cook.
They were an older couple. Anna smiled to see one friendly face, and a pretty one.
Hector Durand appeared to possess a permanent frown.
He was mannerly enough, doffing his frowsy cap but replacing it immediately.
She sniffed. And where had that cape been?
Maybe it was John’s guarded expression that the admiral noticed. ‘Come, come, John. Aye, the Durands are French in origin—I was aware of that when I hired them—but they hate the turmoil of revolution as much as we do! All Menorca does. What say you, Hector?’
The glum-looking caretaker was in no hurry to reply. Finally, he put his hand to his heart. ‘Capitaine Beattie, you may repose all faith and trust in us. Our names are French; we are not, after a lifetime on both Mallorca and Menorca.’
‘Good to know,’ John replied, equally formal. ‘This lady is my new bride, and I rely on you to treat her well.’
The caretaker smiled at Anna, or at least as much of a smile as he could muster, apparently. ‘We are here to serve, madame . Hermione will sit with you soon and you will plan meals together. We will never disappoint you.’
The Durands bowed and returned to the kitchen. Admiral Collingwood watched them, then whispered, ‘Hector is a bit of an eccentric. He never takes off that ugly cape and cap, so don’t stand downwind of him if you can help it.’
‘Please tell me Madame Durand has redeeming qualities,’ John said.
‘Indeed she does,’ Collingwood said. ‘She makes up for her husband’s faults by cooking excellent meals. You’ll never starve in this house.’
‘We should manage quite well,’ John said. ‘Admiral, I am…we are…forever in your debt for your great kindness to us.’
The admiral became their tour guide. ‘There are four bedchambers on this floor,’ he explained.
‘Yours is the grandest. Allan and Pru seem to have commandeered two of the other rooms. On the ground floor, you saw the sitting room, library and dining room.’ He looked around conspiratorially.
‘The kitchen is the Durands’ domain. Invade it only on pain of death. ’
‘We will happily leave that part of the house to them alone,’ John said. ‘As for me, I will be content to eat whatever comes out of the kitchen, and enjoy the view from these magnificent windows in the sitting room.’
‘And the verandah beyond,’ Collingwood said, sounding wistful to Anna. He brightened. ‘Actually, I would like to install a telescope on your bedchamber balcony above us. Think of what I could see!’
Downstairs again, while the men kept their heads together in the business of war, Anna found herself at home in the dining room as Hermione explained the workings of the house, women’s business.
‘We have been practically idle here,’ the chatty woman said as she poured tea.
‘It is a bore to merely keep the place tidy. I am glad of your company.’ She leaned closer.
‘There are two maids in a house nearby, lazy but amiable. They live with their mama and papa. I use them occasionally.’ She looked around.
‘Their papa is a smuggler, so if you need anything, only say the word.’
‘The Captain tells me that the islands are in Spanish hands after years of English rule, and here you are of French extraction. Smugglers, too?’
‘But of course! Don’t tell me that no one smuggles in your England.’
‘If they do, I don’t know them,’ Anna replied, feeling out of her depth and more na?ve than usual, aware she had been sheltered from so much.
‘No fear, Madame Beattie. You need only to remember this: we are Menorcans first. French, Spanish? Bah! Who cares? Not we of the islands.’
As she spoke, she rattled the keys on the chatelaine around her waist, then looked down, as if noticing them for the first time. ‘Madame Beattie, do you wish to wear the household keys?’
Anna happily begged off that responsibility. ‘No, madame . I consider myself a guest in the admiral’s house. You are the housekeeper, not I.’
‘You do not know how long you will be here?’
‘I have no idea.’ She stopped, knowing better than to say anything about John’s purpose here. ‘My husband is subject to the demands of the service, and that is that.’
If dinner was any test of Madame Durand’s ability to concoct a highly edible meal at short notice, Anna felt herself relaxing, even in this strange environment she never could have imagined herself living in, until John had knocked on her door.
The admiral ate with them, beaming at the children, pleased with himself, which pleased her.
Allan ate everything in sight, which made Madame Durand smile.
Pru watched them all in her careful way that touched Anna’s heart.
‘Pru watches over all of us,’ she told John later that night after he came out of Allan’s room, and she said goodnight to Pru in her room. ‘She reminds me of Madame Durand.’
‘Turn around. I know my duty and your dress needs unbuttoning.’ He chuckled.
‘Madame Durand does watch. She insisted on remaining in the dining room after the admiral cleared all of you out because he wanted some time alone with me. “But you might need something,” she insisted.’ Another laugh.
‘He assured Madame Durand that he outranked her and was perfectly capable of spelling out war plans without her help.’
‘I believe we are in good hands here,’ she said, her breath coming faster, because John Beattie had a way with not only buttons but her petticoat, too. Since she had already decided that drawers were optional—Menorca was warm—matters moved along quickly.
His clothing might have come off fast, but John took his time, exploring her thoroughly with kisses until she took matters into her own hands—so to speak—and guided him where she wanted him.
He appeared to be of the same opinion, and she swiftly found herself enveloped by a man as eager as she was.
He didn’t object when she pressed her hands so hard against his back and they moved in rhythm that she remembered from aboard the Swallow , a sweet-sailing ship.
Once was good, and a little later, after some conversation that she found almost as pleasant as love-making, so was twice. She sank into that wonderful mattress, since her bones had turned to jelly. She slept well then, and so did he.
Morning came and with it the pleasure of more love-making, but this time accompanied by the reality of parting soon.
He lay beside her so peacefully that her mind wandered to Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet and that stupid line about parting being such sweet sorrow.
Nonsense. Tears welled in her eyes at the thought of days ahead with no warm spot in the bed beside hers and, even worse, the fear that she might never see him again. There was no sweetness to this sorrow.
‘No tears, Mrs Beattie,’ she heard in the depth of her misery. ‘You’re sending me off whole and hearty. It’s been years since I’ve been this contented.’
‘I wish I could come along,’ she said, then remembered she was a practical woman. ‘No. That would be folly. I know better than to ask what you will be doing. Will taught me that.’
‘You read my orders. The Swallow is to rove and see what we can find out in this part of the Mediterranean. We’ll report to Admiral Collingwood as appropriate.
’ He pulled her close, tucking her head against his chest, where she heard his steady heartbeat.
‘I will anchor here whenever possible. I’ve showed you where the strongbox is, so you will never want for money.
Madame Durand told me there is an Anglican parish.
The Reverend is an old dear, she says, and he recently acquired a schoolmaster mere weeks ago.
Madame Durand said she will see that you meet the teacher.
Apparently, he lives there at the church. ’
She nodded, pleased at the idea of school. ‘I’ll see that both Allan and Pru attend.’