Chapter Thirty-Three #2
Her mind raced back to the first time she had heard those words from him, a different man, a desperate man with no choice.
‘You still have no choice, do you?’ she said, her voice gentle because she truly understood him. ‘I do trust you.’
After a long look, her husband turned his attention to the matter at hand.
‘Pru, please satisfy my curiosity,’ he said. ‘I have been informed by my superior officer sitting here beside me that I am probably asking too much.’
‘What is it, sir?’
‘I am curious about those torches you saw at the bottom of the steps, there in our secret inlet.’
‘I could check easier in daylight,’ Pru suggested. ‘And safer.’
You could , Anna thought, aware what John needed to know to confirm his suspicions.
‘I must know if both those torches are lit,’ John told Pru. ‘And a child playing will be overlooked. If you would rather not go, tell me. I will not love you any less.’
Anna watched Pru’s face as the child considered the request. She saw no fear, only a stalwart girl measuring out the task.
‘If I move carefully, I can do it.’
‘You only need to go down far enough to see the torches.’
‘I will come, too,’ Allan said.
Anna held her breath as Pru leaned towards the boy. ‘I have a better idea. Let us take a rope between us. You go part way down. When I go the rest of the way, I will tug twice on the rope for two torches lit. You can run back here and tell your father. He’ll know sooner that way.’
Allan didn’t like the idea and told her, but Pru was masterful. Anna realised she was watching the two children they’d been last November and December, trying to stay alive in an empty house, with Pru in charge, so young herself.
‘You did what I asked when it was just the two of us,’ Pru said quietly. ‘Allan, do that again for me.’
Silence, then, ‘I will do it for you,’ Allan told her. He looked at his father. ‘We will be ever so quiet and careful, Papa.’
‘That’s all I ask,’ the Captain said, after a visible struggle that tore at Anna’s heart. ‘Pru, if I am asking too much…’
‘You’re not, sir,’ she said, and shyly touched his shoulder. ‘I am having the best time of my life. We’ll take care. There’s rope by the shed.’
Hand in hand, without a backward glance, they walked across the lawn, stopping at the gardener’s shed for rope.
Anna and her Captain stood on the veranda, watching in the growing darkness as the children approached the steps, then disappeared. John tightened his grip until she wanted to cry out, but didn’t.
‘They’re taking forever,’ he said after mere minutes.
She could not have agreed more.
The sky turned from grey to ink. When it felt like midnight in the next century, she heard scrabbling on stone. They hurried to the edge to see Allan waving the rope like a talisman. ‘Two burning torches, Papa!’ he declared. ‘Pru tugged.’
Pru followed soon after. Anna grabbed her and held on tight, while Allan started to protest at his father’s own strong grip.
‘I saw two torches brightly lit,’ Pru told him. ‘What does it mean?’
Anna glanced at John. She knew what he would say, and she dreaded it.
‘It means that someone in Port Mahon wants to know when Swallow is docked at the wharf. Two torches must mean we are here. When it is one torch, Swallow is heading back to sea.’
‘I don’t understand, Papa,’ Allan said. ‘Couldn’t they just ask you?’
Thank you, Allan , she thought as the captain started to laugh, a genuine belly-laugh with no panic in it.
‘Allan, that makes perfect sense,’ he said when he could speak. ‘When I find out who it is, I’ll ask them.’
Allan nodded. ‘I would, Papa. Wouldn’t you, Pru?’
Pru looked down at her lap and smiled. ‘I might.’
John gave the children what Anna knew was a captain’s look. He put his finger to his lips. ‘Consider yourselves my crew. I order you to tell no one. Promise me.’
They understood. He kissed them.
‘It’s bedtime for you two,’ Anna said, keeping her voice light after such solemnity. ‘Allan, I found your favourite soap when I was cleaning out the linen closet. Would you find me another bar in there? I like it, too.’
Allan ran ahead, but Pru walked sedately between them. ‘If I could give you a medal, brave girl, I would,’ John told her when Allan was out of earshot. ‘Thank you.’
She took their hands. ‘Captain, you gave me something better than a medal: a home. Thank you and goodnight! I can read to Allan tonight.’
She skipped ahead, too, a child and no conspirator. John put his arm around Anna.
‘I am leaving as soon as I can, but I need to lie down for a few minutes at least,’ he told her, his lips close to her ear.
‘It might be wild surmise, but making sure I am in port means they can harass the Hartford . It chafes me. Together, we two ships can keep La Guerre at bay. Separate, the smaller Hartford is fair game.’
‘I know I’m sounding like Allan…’
‘But why?’ he teased, finishing her question. ‘This is for you only: Captain Tyler thinks La Guerre is landing French troops on Mallorca. Just a few at a time, so as not to arouse suspicion.’
‘Why these islands?’
‘If he can’t conquer England—Trafalgar and our blockade have stopped him—Napoleon wants to control the Mediterranean. Maybe he has designs on Egypt again. Men like Napoleon are never satisfied. He wants the Royal Navy gone. What better start than to take Menorca and fortify it for France?’
‘And here you are in a small ship,’ she said.
‘Two ships,’ he corrected. ‘Anna, I am going to make a leap of logic and assume two torches mean what we think. I will alert Captain Tyler. We will formulate a plan. I don’t know what it will look like, but trust me.
’ His smile was genuine and comforting; she knew it.
‘I have asked that of you again and again.’
‘I trust you, dear man,’ she said simply. ‘I always will.’
You are dear to me , she thought, and not for the first time. Maybe she was admitting it to herself at last.
‘Keep that in mind,’ he told her, his voice just as soft.
They stood in their bedchamber then. Was this the moment she’d wanted? Who knew when a time would ever be right? They were but two puny people in the middle of constant, grinding war. What she wanted to know mattered to no one except her.
‘Before you leave, tell me about Cathy. I know you treasure her portrait. I want to know her a little.’
She heard his involuntary catch of breath, then a sigh that sounded like relief. Maybe he had been wanting to speak about her, but didn’t think it a kind subject for his new wife. Or she could be horribly, terribly wrong.
Trust me , she thought, as though willing the words into his very soul. Trust me .
He made himself comfortable, settling into their bed, pulling her down beside him, his grip loose.
‘She was my dear love,’ he said. ‘I can’t recall a time I didn’t love her.
’ He chuckled, which relieved her heart.
‘I didn’t even propose. I came back from the Indies, held her close and asked, “Should we spend three weeks crying the banns, or get a special licence and marry fast?” Anna, I paid a fortune for a special licence. And look, I did it again for you!’
She attempted a smile, feeling a pang as she considered how different the circumstances were. He rested her head against his chest, maybe as if she were Cathy. His voice turned serious then.
‘She knew even then she had consumption. She didn’t tell me until I returned from the Nile. I didn’t know what to say. She told me she yearned for a child, which could have been a death sentence. Allan was born nine months later, when I was in the Caribbean.’
He stood suddenly and paced the room. She said nothing that might stop the flow of words. He sat down again, cross-legged on their bed, and stared at her.
‘Her skin was so pale and she had no energy. Thank God we could afford a wet nurse and nanny. Every exertion exhausted her.’
Anna leaned forward and put her hand on his knee. He covered it with his hand, then got up again and picked up his uniform coat, rummaging. He returned to bed with a folded note.
‘Light the lamp.’
She did so.
He handed the paper to her. ‘Her original letter faded with time and brine. I’ve copied it several times since. Please read it.’
She felt his eyes on her as she read silently, her heart going out to this couple she didn’t know, because this was a different husband from the man beside her.
Dearest, I knew. Don’t despise me for that, Johnny. I wanted to know the delight of you, and if God was benevolent, I wanted the blessing of our baby.
Anna looked at him, seeing his anguish as if the note was only hours old.
‘I could never have despised her, and never had the chance to tell her,’ he said. ‘I have read and reread this. I have memorised it. Keep reading.’
She did as he said.
Please remarry, Johnny, please. Love, Cathy.
What was there to say? Her logical brain did not fail her.
He either would or wouldn’t come around to the marriage she now knew she wanted, that of a dear heart in tune with hers, generous in love.
They were married and would likely stay that way.
Whether it was mere words on a document, or the kind of love that sank deep into the heart and body, she did not yet know.
She folded the note and handed it back to him, then leaned closer and covered his eyes with her hands.
‘Dear man, when she told you to please remarry, didn’t you believe her?’ Who was brave enough to say that ? Only her.
She expected no answer and didn’t get one. She took her hands away and looked into his eyes. Are you in love with me? she wanted to ask, but Anna Beattie was no fool. That question could wait; she doubted he even knew himself. She knew her answer, but it could wait, perhaps forever.
Instead, she lay down and pulled the sheet to her shoulder. To her delight, he lay down beside her and pulled her close.
‘I am a work in progress,’ he whispered in her ear.