Chapter Thirty-One
I t wasn’t a closet. It wasn’t even unpleasant. Madame Durand asked Anna and John to follow her through the kitchen and past the garden. She pointed to what Anna had thought was a gardener’s shed, next to where the beans were already vining.
‘You may have noticed that Hector can be morose at times. When he gets that way, I banish myself here.’
She opened the door with a flourish. Anna put her hand to her mouth in amazement. ‘Madame, this is… Words fail me!’
Madame Durand’s eyes sparkled, as though she had just pulled off the greatest surprise since the invention of surprises. ‘Even Admiral Collingwood has no idea. It is yours for as long as the ooh-la-la signorina demands your bedchamber.’
John picked Anna up and carried her over the threshold. ‘Madame Durand, I echo my wife’s sentiments,’ he said. ‘We will be the envy of nations out here in the…ahem…gardener’s shed.’
Madame allowed herself a smile, then gave them a more pointed look.
‘You may tell this guest that yes, I will have a bath drawn for her daily, and yes, I will see to her sheets.’ She raised one finger and her expression grew militant.
‘But no one, not even the daughter of a count, will tamper with the menu in this house, as long as I draw breath! That is all.’ She made her stately way back to the house, posture impeccable.
‘I’d like an early start,’ John said. ‘No, no. No alarm from you, or “What will the children say?”’ He closed the door with his foot. ‘Just a really good kiss. For now.’
It was an excellent kiss, starting at her forehead and ending about where the cleavage began in her dress.
She clung to him, then released him reluctantly and surveyed the room, nodding her approval of thick curtains.
She sniffed the pillows. Ah, yes, lavender.
The bed was ample. She sat down then lay back and sighed blissfully.
‘Mrs Beattie, don’t tempt me,’ he said, and made a gesture towards his trouser buttons.
‘I don’t generally stand the watch on the Swallow , but I keep odd hours alone on the quarterdeck.
You can’t fathom how many times I’ve undone your buttons and counted those freckles on your shoulders.
’ He looked at the ceiling. ‘And other ones.’ He put a gentle hand on her cheek. ‘I’m only here for tonight.’
‘I hope you’ll have time to tell me about your sailing, too,’ she said as they returned to the house arm in arm.
‘A little, but you must promise never to divulge anything to agents of the French lurking about,’ he teased, ‘or anyone else, for that matter. Captain Tyler and I are sailing between Mallorca just west of us, and north towards France, Toulon in particular. I must say we are seeing troop movement—’ he held up a placating hand ‘—through the glass. We’re not close to shore.
We’re still figuring out how to stay within helpful distance of each other without being obvious, with an eye out for La Guerre .
We’re about as sly as two ships can be.’ He kissed her.
‘Don’t look so sceptical! I prefer that look where you admire my prowess. ’
‘You are hopeless!’ she teased, enjoying this captain, pleased to see he was more relaxed, less strained. Is this what it means to be a Navy family? she asked herself. I like it.
He went upstairs to retrieve his duffel that the children had been last seen hauling up the steps. Anna straightened her dress, patted her hair and nerved herself for a visit to the sitting room.
What she found touched her heart. Sofia Callona lay curled up on the sofa, hands pressed together under her cheek, asleep.
She feels safe here, the same way I feel , Anna thought, surprised, but upon consideration, not surprised.
By the never-used fireplace, Allen and Pru were going through their shell collection, talking softly.
She smiled when Pru put her finger to her lips, her eyes kind.
Anna blew her a kiss, picked up her mending and seated herself close by.
She had gone through John’s stockings and was working on his shirts now.
She looked up later when Sofia started, as if in fright. Anna went to her, debating only for a second before resting her hand on her shoulder. ‘Shh, shh,’ she crooned. ‘Go back to sleep.’
Sofia closed her eyes. When Anna saw her tears, she wiped them away with John’s shirt. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said softly, as she’d spoken to Allan mere months ago, when every sound had made him jump. ‘You’re in a safe place.’
Anna debated only a second, and sat on the sofa. Without a word, Sofia moved closer. ‘I was so worried when Mamma and Papá had to flee from Callona.’
‘Why didn’t you go with them?’
‘I have been in Roma in a convent school. Callona seemed so far away, especially when armies and intriguers are between you and home…’
I feel sorry for you , Anna thought. Still, ‘I thought, well, isn’t Napoleon an Italian?’
‘No, no,’ Sofia said impatiently. ‘The French remain in control, but Callona is an Italian city-state, one of many. Who knows if that will ever change? Pardon me, Mrs Beattie, but between the two of us, Italians do fly off the handle and bicker among themselves, one city against another.’ She might have been part English, but her hand gesture was all Italian.
‘Bah! How did the Romans ever conquer the known world? Why couldn’t Napoleon leave us alone? ’
‘Life’s a mystery,’ Anna said, wondering that same question. ‘Your parents fled to England and worry about you, I am certain.’
‘They are in Kent, where Mamma was born. At least, I hope they are in Kent.’
She looked down at her hands, and Anna noticed her nails were bitten to the quick. Poor girl , she thought. Poor little one . She took a chance, and decided to overlook Sofia’s imperious air. This was a frightened child. ‘These are hard times, aren’t they? How old are you, my dear?’
Sofia looked almost gratefully at her, the veneer of superiority tucked away, at least for the moment. ‘I am almost seventeen. I am counting the days until I see my parents.’
‘The Captain told me someone would be here in a few days for you. He has a yacht.’
‘Luigi,’ she said. Anna heard her relief. ‘My uncle said he would send someone named Luigi. From there, I will go to England.’ Her sigh echoed in Anna’s heart. ‘All because someone thinks ruling the world is a good idea. Maybe for him. Not for me.’
Anna thought of her brother resting eternally now on Gibraltar, and her constant silent prayer that no one would injure her husband, all because one man wanted more and didn’t care how he got it.
‘I believe I would give the earth to have my husband come home every day from work, sit as we are sitting and chat with me,’ she said.
‘That would be enough.’ She almost patted Sofia, then reconsidered.
Perhaps that would be rude. ‘We wait and hope. Let’s go upstairs.
I’ll show you your room. It does have a lovely view of the sea. ’
I suppose rank hath its privileges , Anna thought hours later after a more congenial supper than she would have thought possible, considering Sofia’s earlier haughty air.
All the same, Sofia didn’t seem to mind usurping her hosts from their bedchamber, which made Anna smile to herself and think, She is still the daughter of a count.
John delighted her by usurping her role as bedtime reader to the children in Pru’s room. Anna watched from the doorway as Pru and Allan fell under the spell of the Scot’s charming accent. He was a far cry from being that desperate father, which warmed her very soul.
When he’d finished, they both kissed Pru goodnight. John swung Allan into his arms and carried his son to the other bedchamber. He winked at Anna. ‘And you, Mrs Beattie, can make your way to the gardener’s shed.’
‘Why there, Papa?’ Allan asked.
‘That is where we are sleeping tonight. I promised the Durands I would do an inventory of what I find in there,’ John teased. ‘You know: rakes and shovels. Maybe a wench. Go to sleep, son.’
Anna smiled all the way to the shed. She was climbing into Madame Durand’s soft bed when John opened the door.
‘I believe you have the best-looking bottom of any woman I ever saw.’
‘And you would know this how?’
‘The usual way. You don’t mind if I show off my wares? Standard issue.’
If he could joke, she could, too. ‘I wouldn’t know standard issue from any other. You’re my only source of information.’
Oh, John . ‘In that case, I am well above standard issue,’ he told her as he stripped and tossed his clothes towards hers.
‘I dislike braggadocio, but the word prodigious comes to mind.’ No other word came to her mind, certainly.
He lay down beside her. ‘This is turning into a delightful habit,’ he said.
She was more practised now, enjoying the slow rhythm, happy with how well he fitted, prodigious or otherwise.
He was in no hurry, even as she felt her own desire grow.
No stranger to suggestion, he increased the tempo, then fulfilled her every need as she gasped and clung to him.
Then it was his turn, as she caressed his back then pressed down hard, hearing his groan of satisfaction.
‘Mrs Beattie…’
‘Yes?’
‘That’s all. Mrs Beattie.’
She enjoyed his weight, so nicely distributed above her. ‘I feel safe like this,’ she whispered finally. ‘Why is that? I mean, here we are in a garden shed, for heaven’s sake.’
‘It is because we are, at this moment, the only two people in the entire universe. Remember?’ He chuckled. ‘The garden shed is a new one for me, too.’
He kept her so close, her head on his chest now. Then began that wondrous part of marriage that probably no one ever tried to explain, but was, in its own way, pure joy: idle bedchamber chat.