‘He was right. I will,’ she replied, showing no fear because she felt none. This washerwar to fight.
Captain Tyler squeezed her hand. ‘He might call you Patience. That’s my sister’s name.’
‘You said Joel and Patience have two girls.’
‘Yes, Grace and Charity.’ He did smile then, an apologetic smile. ‘Aye, Mrs Beattie, we’re of that firm Puritan stock with names you might consider quaint, but we can swear as good as your Royal Navy types.’
She smiled, too. He needed that. She waited.
‘If you could tell him that Grace and Charity are well, and…and anything that comes to mind.’
‘I will. Do not fear, Captain.’
‘Bravo, Mrs Beattie. John says you’re the kindest lady he ever met, and you have a cord of steel as a backbone. I would never argue with him.’
‘Good thing.’ No need for this sorely tried captain to even suspect that her backbone felt like blancmange right now.
He motioned his men out of the door. She stood with him, allowing him a moment of silence.
He surprised her then, leaning closer to whisper. ‘This is for you alone. That Royal Marine? Nothing’s wrong with him. John sent him for your protection. He said to trust no one. If you can tell me anything I need to know, now’s the time.’
She whispered to him about the two torches that John had assumed meant a warship was in port. ‘Pru confirmed those two torches whenSwallowdocked, and the one burning after he left. John was right in his surmise,’ she said.
‘He told me, and yes, he was right. We were jumped whenSwallowwas still in port. He put it together, but gives you and Pru all the credit.’ He gave her a playful kiss on the cheek, that Yankee. ‘Perhaps your Admiral Collingwood should summon you to his flagship for official duty.’
‘Captain Tyler…’ she began, then reconsidered. ‘I trust you, too.’
He gave her a little bow, tears in his eyes.
Chapter Thirty-Five
‘John Beattie, thank you from the depths of my heart,’ Anna whispered as the wagon pulled away, taking Captain Tyler and the stretcher-bearingHartfordsailors back to the harbour, their ship, the sea, the war.
She stood in the doorway of the sitting room, watching her patients, who seemed to be sleeping.I am no nurse, she thought.John, did you really tell Dan Tyler that I have a cord of steel for a backbone? I wish I did.
What did wounded men need? Water, she told herself, and went to that Holy of Holies, Madame Durand’s kitchen, where, to her astonishment, she heard the Durands in a heated argument. Maybe French just sounded more heated than English? Come to think of it, she had heard scarcely two words from Hector, and here he was, obviously holding his own. This shouting match carrying on behind a closed door reminded her how little she knew about the Durands, beyond Madame’s questions, and the usually silent Hector.
She waited. When silence ruled again, she knocked on the door and opened it with a smile. Might as well brazen it out.
‘Madame Durand, could you please help me locate three carafes? I need water and a glass for each man. Heaven knowsI get cranky when I am thirsty, so I can only imagine how they must feel.’
They both looked at her with frowns. As her insides churned, she gave them a calm face in return. Madame Durand yielded, with Hector pasting his usual morose expression back on his face.
‘I will help you, Madame Beattie,’ the housekeeper said, sounding less than eager. She added her own demand. ‘I am no nurse. These men areyourtask.’
‘I will manage them,’ Anna said quietly. ‘I would like you to make a cream soup, something to soothe patients used to much coarser fare. Consommé as well. The carafes, please.’ She waited, knowing how easy to please she usually was, but hoping the caretakers heard in her tone that she also expected obedience.
‘Very well,’ Madame Durand said after a wait that Anna thought bordered on insolence.
‘You are all kindness,’ Anna replied coolly. ‘I will take these glasses and you will bring carafes.’ She left the kitchen, closing the door and waiting a moment to hear if the argument resumed. It did, but lower in volume.
I am in charge, she thought as she walked back to the sitting room. Every nerve in her body wanted her to throw open the front door and run and swim until she found theSwallow, but that was unwise and she knew it.
She watched three sleeping men. As she stood there, the Marine opened his eyes and winked at her. She came closer to him, wanting to feel brave. He seemed to know, and whispered, ‘Mrs Beattie, I will always be here between you and that door.’
She touched his shoulder, supremely grateful. He had given her the gift she needed: courage.
She looked at the foretopman, who snored, then sat beside Captain Tyler’s brother-in-law. His breathing was shallow and his eyes half closed, as if he hadn’t the strength to command hiseyelids.Poor man, she thought, then murmured, ‘Joel, I will stay by you.’
