She looked across the street where he pointed at other houses. To her horror, ladies she assumed were her friends stared back at her disapprovingly.
‘Perhaps they are too busy as well.’ She managed to keep her voice light. ‘Mrs Moore promised to make my favourite sugar biscuits. Let’s see if she has started them yet. You can sneak a bit of dough if I distract her.’
She reckoned that was all any child of sound mind needed, and she wasn’t wrong. He practically towed her across the street and up the steps. He didn’t bother removing his coat, but trotted into the kitchen, where, thank the Lord, Mrs Moore was cooling a tray of biscuits.
Soon Pru and Allan were seated at the table, with biscuits in front of them and glasses of milk.
‘Mrs Moore, I believe I sniffed something off in the pantry earlier,’ she said.
Mrs Moore followed Anna into the pantry and quietly closed the door. ‘What’s up, my dear?’
Anna grabbed her arm and told her what had happened.
Mrs Moore’s eyes widened. ‘The other ladies, too?’
‘Yes! Everyone was staring at me behind lace curtains. All I can think of…when Captain Beattie hugged me on the front step, I saw Mrs Dalton. What have Idone?’
Mrs Moore put her arm around her. ‘Nothing. These old biddies have nothing to do except gossip. Don’t worry.’
‘I hope you’re right.’
‘I know I am. I’ll take the children with me to market. I usually see Mrs Dalton’s cook there, and one or two others. I’ll tell them what’s happened.’ She patted Anna. ‘Don’t you worry.’
Anna saw them off to market. ‘I am making a mountain out of a molehill,’ she murmured.
She perked up when the doorbell jangled, hoping it was Mrs Dalton.
Oh, no, not you, she thought, dismayed, when she opened the door on Reverend Edward Maddy, curate at St Andrew’s, Vicar Montague’s substitute.
‘Reverend, do come in,’ she said, wishing she could close the door on that face. There was something about the man that made her wary. He looked ordinary, except that his face was doughy and he wore an oversized cross, as if needing to announce to everyone that he was a man of God.
‘What I have to say will not take long,’ he assured her.
She watched his face for kindness and saw none. Anna chose to think the best. Perhaps he hadn’t heard about Will, who, like so many Plymouth parishioners, was often gone.
‘Reverend, I thought this house had been spared from any suffering about Trafalgar, but my brother Will…’
He slashed his hand down like a guillotine blade. ‘Miss Fontaine, I never thoughtyouwould succumb to the lures of the flesh!’
She stepped back. What was hesaying? ‘Reverend, you must have…’
He shook his finger at her. ‘Did you think your indiscretion would go unnoticed by your neighbours, who witnessed a shocking display on these steps? Heaven knows what went oninsidethis house!’
She stared at him. Was he calling her to account for nothing beyond gossip?Mrs Dalton, what have you done to me?she thought, perplexed.
‘Sir, please understand what happened. Captain Beattie arrived to tell me that my brother, his first lieutenant, died after Trafalgar.’
He folded his arms. ‘Oh, really? Surprise me, Miss Fontaine.’
Unnerved, she took up the challenge. ‘His son Allan was with him, and a scullery maid. The little ones had been living alone for two months after the Captain’s housekeeper and cook abandoned them. That is what Mrs Daltondidn’tsee.’
‘Tell me more,’ he said. ‘I am all ears.’
He did have large ears, but Anna knew he wasn’t hearing anything except the opinion of a gossiping neighbour. She plunged ahead anyway.
‘Captain Beattie had nowhere to take his son, no family, no one. He had to sail in the morning to Portsmouth’s drydocks. He begged me to keep Allan and the maid here until he could make other arrangements. That is all.’
Her heart sank as the Reverend’s face hardened.
