The Admiral was in unusually high spirits that afternoon compared with the evening before—clear-headed, talkative and anchored firmly in the present rather than drifting into the fogs of memory. Edmund, observing him with an eye long trained to measure small variations in temperament, recognized at once that this was a rare window in which certain questions might be answered without confusion.
After Mrs. Grealey had cleared away the tea-tray, the Admiral lit a pipe with contented dignity.
“A very good visit,” the Admiral pronounced, stretching his legs. “I am always improved by Mrs. Larkin. Better than quinine, she is. Better than laudanum. Better than fair winds.”
Edmund smiled faintly. “She is indeed an agreeable presence, sir.”
“Agreeable?” the Admiral repeated, affronted. “My boy, agreeable is a lukewarm word. The weather may be agreeable. A boiled potato may be agreeable. Mrs. Larkin, however, is—bless me—excellent.”
She was not a woman designed to unsettle a man. Her beauty did not cry out for admiration. No, it waited, quiet and self-possessed, and still, she unsettled him.
Her face stayed with him more than he cared to admit. It might have been soft, had life allowed it. Instead, care had left its faint marks along her brow and at the corners of her eyes, and yet these did not diminish her appearance—they deepened it. They made him wonder what she had endured to earn them. Her eyes, a storm-grey, unsettled him most. They were clear, observant, the eyes of a woman who missed nothing and revealed only what she chose. What would it be like to coax a smile from her?
A silence followed, companionable and warm. Edmund took a seat opposite the Admiral, not too near the fire lest he appear over-familiar, but near enough to speak without raising his voice.
“If I may ask, sir,” he began lightly, “how did she come to open the school? It seems a demanding undertaking. Did Larkin leave her in straightened circumstances?”
The Admiral snorted. “Demanding? It is a miracle the woman stands upright under the weight of all she does. But she will bear it—aye, and smile through it—for she has the constitution of three women and the heart of a saint.”
Edmund waited, knowing the Admiral liked to come to the point in his own circuitous fashion.
“No, her circumstances are not dire. She opened the school, Mr. Leigh, because she needed to be useful,” the Admiral continued. “After Charles…” He stopped, swallowed, and pressed on. “Well. When a young woman loses almost everything, she must cling to the remnant. Hers is service.”
“Serving, sir?”
“Teaching, tending, visiting—good heavens, she does half the parish’s work for them. The school is only part of it. Do you know, she calls upon every old sailor within a mile of the harbour? Feeds them when they do not ask for it, reads to themwhen they pretend they do not need it, and hears all their tales—even the disreputable ones.”
Edmund blinked. Old sailors. A man at the harbour. The image of her standing in the dimness of the cliff path rose before him—her tension, her watchfulness. Was that all it had been? Her errand to a bedridden seaman, a widow’s benevolence?
The Admiral, watching him over the rim of his spectacles, gave a shrewd little hum—far too knowing for a man who sometimes could not recall his own breakfast.
“You have an interest in her?”
Edmund coloured very slightly. “I have merely crossed her path once or twice.”
“You look as though your interest is more purposeful than that.”
Edmund forced his expression to remain neutral. “I just wondered, sir…”
“Yes?” the Admiral pressed with an innate authority.
“I wondered whether her errands might be more than mere charity.”
The Admiral set down his spectacles with a soft click. “Do you suspect her of some mischief, Leigh?”
“No,” he said at once—too quickly. “No indeed. Only—she was abroad last evening at a time when most ladies are not.
“Visiting Blake, no doubt,” the Admiral muttered.
“Who is he?”
“A former sailor. Surname Carrick or Garrick—or perhaps that was the dog.” The Admiral waved a hand. “It hardly matters. Mrs. Larkin insists on supplying him with food and such. I believe he would improve most if he came out from the shadows.”
“She appeared… on her guard.”
The Admiral’s brows rose. “And you, my boy—you look as though you know what it is to be on your guard.”
Edmund stiffened. “I beg your pardon, sir?”
