Chapter Five
Outside on the street again, the captain put his finger to her lips briefly when she opened her mouth. ‘I will have no argument from you, Miss Fontaine, about that money.’
‘But…’
‘I will sleep better at night, knowing that you, my son and Pru are safe. I say to you again, don’t argue.’
‘Aye, sir, aye,’ she said, half-teasing, half-serious, which startled her, too. What was happening to her calm, well-ordered life?
‘And now?’ she asked, feeling the need for a monumental change of subject.
‘The Drake, Miss Fontaine,’ he told her. ‘Look lively, now. TheSwallowmust sail soon.’
She had passed the Drake Hotel many times, always impressed by the nearly constant flow of Navy men to and from its stately entrance. But to go inside? She hesitated.
‘Come, come, Miss Fontaine. I want you to meet Mrs Fillion, a remarkable woman who started here as a maid and now owns it. Will might have left something here.’
Mystified, she followed him to the lobby, which somehow gave off an air of power, further amplified by officers groupedaround a doorway into a room with what looked like a card game in progress. At this hour of the morning?
Captain Beattie must have noticed her amazement. ‘This is what we call the Perpetual Whist Game. It starts early and never ends.’
‘It’s been going on for years,’ said a woman with a distinctly Irish lilt to her words.
Startled, Anna turned around to see a woman dressed in serviceable black, with curly red hair shot through with grey. To Anna’s amazement, Captain Beattie solemnly kissed her cheek.
‘Home from sea, Mrs Fillion, sound of wind and limb,’ he said, then, ‘Miss Fontaine, we always greet this hotelier with a kiss and that very reassurance. You’re looking at durable Royal Navy tradition. Miss Fontaine, meet Mrs Fillion.’
Anna shook the extended hand. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance,’ she said. The handshake signalled an equality that Anna relished. So did the kindness in the other woman’s eyes.
Anna had to admire Captain Beattie, a man becoming more adept at explaining his fraught situation quickly. When he finished, Mrs Fillion touched Anna’s hand. ‘Accept my sympathy on the death of your brother. These are indeed trying times.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I am so glad you took in the Captain’s son.’ Mrs Fillion’s eyes misted over. ‘So much suffering at sea, and at home. It beggars belief. What may I help you with?’
‘If you please, let us into your storeroom,’ he said. ‘I think there is something for Miss Fontaine on your shelves.’
What?Anna thought as she followed them down the steps off the lobby.
‘Mrs Fillion lets us keep personal effects down here. Letters that go astray end up here. This is often the last resting place of dead men’s possessions.’ He took her hand. ‘Steep stairs, MissFontaine. Before he died, your brother said there was something of his here.’
Mrs Fillion turned to Anna. ‘If my officers only have time to drop off possessions, I contact their loved ones.’
‘So much work for you,’ Anna said. ‘I admire you for doing this.’
‘We all do,’ Captain Beattie said. ‘I’ve left items here, too.’
He stood close to her—it was a tight space—but there was room to back away. She didn’t. Why, she couldn’t have said. She could consider it when he was at sea and not smelling so nicely of bay rum and something else—probably just Captain Beattie.
‘Do you alphabetize us, Mrs F?’ he asked, which made Anna and Mrs Fillion laugh.
‘I do, Captain B. Follow me to the Fs.’
Mrs Fillion counted off two shelves, reached up and handed her a small box—perhaps a ring box?
‘When did…?’ Anna asked as she took it.
‘I date them. Look, last year. April.’
