‘Open it. It’s yours now,’ Captain Beattie urged.
She did, and stared at what must be a lady’s wedding ring, filigreed and lovely. ‘I had no idea… He never said he’d met someone…’ She shook her head. ‘This makes me so sad.’
The Captain put his arm around her. ‘In late winter and early spring, we were cruising off Jamaica, with time for shore leave. We returned with the fleet and anchored off Gibraltar.’ He hesitated, then, ‘Your brother was exemplary in his duties, but he was not talkative.’
‘No, he was not,’ she admitted, and then opened a small door into her heart. ‘I wish we had both been more forthcoming with one another.’
‘I have no idea what this meant to him, or who it was meant for.’ He surprised Anna then and, from the look on MrsFillion’s face, surprised her as well, by adding, ‘I could be more forthcoming, too. Is it the curse of captaincy?’
‘I wouldn’t know, sir, although I am certain the Admiralty makes harsh demands on men. And women wait.’ Anna touched the ring. ‘And wait, never to know.’
‘It’s yours now, Miss Fontaine. Perhapsyoucan wear it someday,’ Mrs Fillion said gently.
‘That seems unlikely,’ she said quietly.She closed the box, knowing that somewhere in the world, a woman waited for news that would never come. ‘I will never know any more than this. I’ll tuck it away.’
She waited in silence upstairs while the captain and Mrs Fillion discussed someone from the Drake picking up the boxes from his house and storing them here, in this cellar of forgotten memories.
‘Please ask your man to take this to Bledsoe’s.’ He held out a key. ‘He’s the estate agent.’
‘I will, Captain Beattie,’ Mrs Fillion promised.
‘I’m off then. My time is short.’
Don’t say that, Anna thought in sudden alarm.It’s too final. She chastised herself inwardly, well aware that it was merely conversation and nothing more.
‘Good sailing, Captain Beattie,’ Mrs Fillion said, giving him a firm handshake.
Someone called for Mrs Fillion at the front desk, a captain on crutches.
She started towards him, then turned back to Anna. ‘I am always here if you need me.’
‘Oh, I…’
‘If you need me, Miss Fontaine,’ she repeated.
They walked back to Covent Street in silence. She glanced at the man beside her a few times, wondering if he regretted what he was about to do. She wanted to tell him not to worry,that she would never fail him, even as she cringed inside at this enormous responsibility which had been thrust upon her.
Her street was quiet and calm as usual. When the Captain opened the door, she shook off her fears at the sound of running steps and a little boy with his arms open wide.
Captain Beattie crouched down and held him close. Anna turned to close the door and saw two of her neighbours, heads together, across the street, looking at her. She waved, but they did not respond, only turned away and continued their conversation, with a glance or two in her direction. Odd, that.
Mrs Moore had prepared a luncheon, eaten in the kitchen, the five of them close together, with Allan on his father’s lap, because there were only so many chairs. Allan nestled close to his father, his cheek against gilt buttons.
‘I have no way of knowing how long I will be in Portsmouth,’ Captain Beattie said finally, as he set down his fork. ‘I do know that when I return here it will be a brief stay—very brief. Rumour suggests that we might attach ourselves to Collingwood’s Mediterranean fleet, but that remains to be seen.’
He touched his son’s dark hair, a contrast to his own red hair with its many lighter highlights. ‘Allan, your mother’s hair was so brown and pretty,’ he said, ‘very much like Miss Fontaine’s hair.’
Anna asked herself why a mundane observation to a six-year-old should make her face feel warm, but it did.It’s nothing special, she wanted to tell them both, looking away.
When she looked back, he was the captain again.
‘Son, mind your manners and help the ladies when asked. I must leave now.’ He regarded Pru, who moved her chair closer to Allan in a protective gesture. ‘You have allies, Pru. Mrs Moore and Miss Fontaine are here to help, not frighten you.’
‘You can be certain of that, Captain Beattie,’ Mrs Moore said, sounding militant.
Anna couldn’t help but smile. ‘Sir, I am most fortunate in Mrs Moore, and no, if peace breaks out you cannot steal her.’
Perfect. They all laughed.
