‘He did mention that,’ she said, keeping her voice light. There was so much here she didn’t understand.
‘My crew tell me they have never heard such creative swearing when we are under attack. I plead guilty to that.’ His shoulders rose again as the tension returned. ‘Miss Fontaine, I need your help most desperately.’
She sat in silence long enough to hear the mantelpiece clock ticking. ‘You had better tell me. Then I will know if I can trustyou.’
He had a way about him, looking directly into her eyes. Anna realised that he was treating her as his equal. How she knew, she could not say.
‘Let me lay this before you,’ he began, settling into the chair, not taking his eyes from her face. ‘My wife died of consumption that plagued her all of our brief married life. I knew that when I married her.’
He puffed out his cheeks in an entirely human gesture that told Anna much about this man. She almost leaned forward to touch his hand.
‘I have no relatives in England. Three years ago, I arranged for a housekeeper who cooks, a scullery maid and a nanny for my son. I paid them well, and I reposed much confidence in them.’
Anna held her breath as a dark look came into his eyes. ‘Oh, my,’ she whispered. ‘Something happened.’
‘Aye. For the last three years, I’ve sailed into Plymouth, visited a few days and reacquainted myself with Allan.’ He looked down at his hands. ‘It was different this time.’
He looked up in surprise as the door opened and Mrs Moore came in, her face cheerful as usual. ‘Anna, you should see these little ones eat! I made more sandwiches. Would you…’ her housekeeper glanced from her to the captain, and her expression changed ‘…like some?’
‘Later, my dear,’ Anna said gently. ‘Give us a moment.’
Mrs Moore closed the door.
‘Go on, Captain Beattie,’ Anna said as she braced herself. ‘What did you find this time?’
His eyes filled with tears. He sat in silence until he could speak. ‘I let myself into the house tonight. It was dark. The scullery maid, Pru, stood there with a poker, ready to strike me.’
‘Good God!’
‘I reminded her who I was, and Pru collapsed in tears at my feet.’
‘Where…where was Allan?’ Anna asked apprehensively.
‘She’d told him to stay in the kitchen with the door closed.’ He wiped his eyes. ‘She was ready to defend him with her life.’
‘But…’
‘The housekeeper and the nanny?’ he said, biting off the words this time. ‘Gone these last two months, after warning her not to let anyone in the house or leave it, on pain of death. Evil, wicked women! They fooled me. I thought they were dependable and kind. How could I have been so foolish? God, I am an idiot!’
He was on his feet now, pacing back and forth, his face a mask of pain, as if he watched the whole thing unroll again in his mind’s eye.
Anna waited, reminding herself to breathe. And think.What would I want someone to do if this had happened to me?she asked herself when the roaring in her head diminished.
Anna stood up and took his arm, which demanded all her courage. She knew better than anyone how quietly she lived, troubling no one and causing no disturbance to the universe. She felt his pain; it was almost palpable.
He stopped walking. She patted his arm, astounded at her own temerity. ‘It’s done now. It’s over. They’re safe in my kitchen, eating. They’re…’
‘Aye, they are! God help me, what would have happened to them if I had not returned alive from Trafalgar?’ he asked in anguish.
Without thinking, she reached up and covered his eyes with her hands. It was a momentary, impulsive act, and she took her hands away quickly, but not before Captain Beattie had regained his composure. He sank into his chair again. He gestured for her to sit, masterful in his command of his emotions, probably earned the hard way at sea in battle. She sat, but this time her hand rested on his arm.
Her touch seemed to soothe him. He sounded almost normal when he spoke. ‘For two months they survived on scraps from the pantry, and Pru kept my son safe. She’s only ten years old, or as near as she can figure. Imagineherterror.’
Anna imagined. She waited for what she knew was coming, and had her answer before he spoke, even though the responsibility made her quail.
‘Miss Fontaine, I must sail tomorrow afternoon for Portsmouth and the drydocks there. I have nowhere to leave my son and Pru, except with you.’
Even as she wondered in her heart where this would lead, she leaned closer and meant every word. ‘They can stay with me until you make other arrangements. You can trust me, Captain Beattie.’ Should she? Yes. ‘For my brother’s sake, and for the children’s, I will not let you down.’
