Sir Richard practised total war, and inspired others to seek a total victory. To the Navy, his will remain an abiding influence. We shall never forget him, nor the woman he loved to the end.
Her name had not been mentioned. There was no need.
Sillitoe had said nothing about it. There had been no need for that, either.
The door opened and he strode into the room, his quick, keen glance taking in the dark green gown, the wide-brimmed straw hat with its matching ribbon. Perhaps surprised to see her out of mourning; the hooded eyes gave little away, but she recognised approval in them.
He kissed her hand, and half-turned as horses clattered across the drive.
“Lafargue can make even a single word into an overture.” He waited for her to sit and arrange her gown. “But I think the way has become clear.”
She felt the eyes upon her, the power of the man. An intensity which so many had found cause to fear.
She had only once seen him off guard, that day at the cathedral, when he had pushed through the silent crowd to be at her side. As if he believed he had failed her in some way, something which he was unable to conceal.
And other times. When he had arranged passage for her to Malta… For that last time. She clenched her fist around her parasol. She must not think of it. She had often found him watching her, like this moment, in this great, silent house overlooking the Thames. Perhaps remembering yet again the night he had burst into her room, and had held her, shielded her, as his men had dragged away the madman who had attempted to rape her.
He had made no secret of his feelings for her. Once, in this house, he had even mentioned marriage. But after that terrible night, how did he really regard her?
She thought of the lightning over the river last night, probably while the unknown pervert had been scratching his poison on the door. It had all come back to her. Melwyn had felt it too, and had climbed into bed with her, holding her hand, a child again, until the storm had abated.
Sillitoe said, “Lady Bolitho will have the right to visit Falmouth. A lawyer acceptable to Lafargue,” he almost smiled, “and, of course, to me, will be present. Certain items…” He broke off, suddenly tired of evasion. “It would not be advisable for you to be present. Captain Bolitho is the accepted heir, but in his absence we may have to make allowances.”
She said quietly, “I had no intention of returning to Falmouth.” She raised her chin and regarded him steadily. “There would be some who would say that the mare was hasty to change saddles!”
Sillitoe nodded. “Bravely spoken.”
“Time will pass. I shall become a stranger there.”
“Adam will ask you to visit or take up residence, whichever you choose. When he eventually returns.”
She was on her feet without knowing that she had left the chair. She looked down at the river: people working on barges, a man walking his dog. Ordinary things. She bit her lip. Beyond her reach.
She said, “I think that might be dangerous.”
She did not explain. She did not need to.
And she spoke the truth. What would she do there? Watch the ships, listen to the sailors, torture herself with memories they had shared with no one?
Sillitoe waited, watched her turn, framed against the sun-dappled window, her throat and shoulders as brown as any country lass working in the fields, the pendant glittering between her breasts. The one woman he truly wanted; he had never considered it as a need before. And the only one he could never have.
He said abruptly, “I have to leave London. Tomorrow or the next day.” He saw her hand close into a fist again. What was troubling her? “To Deptford. I was going to suggest that you stay here. You would be well taken care of, and I would feel safer.”
She looked at the river once more. “That would do your reputation injury, surely?”
“It is of no consequence.” He was standing beside her, like that day at St Paul ’s. “After this duty I shall be spending more time in the pursuit of my own affairs, unless…”
She turned towards him, unnerved by the realisation that this was the true reason for asking her here. “Unless?”
“The Prince Regent seems to feel that my work as Inspector General has run its course.” He shrugged. “He is probably right.”
She could feel the beat of her heart, like a hammer, and said again, “Unless what?”
“I think you know, Catherine.”
“Because of me. What they will say. How it would look. They would pillory you, just as they tried to destroy Richard.” She repeated, “Because of me.”
“And do you think I care what people say about me? What they have always been careful to conceal to my face?
Power is like a fine blade-you must always use it with care, and for the right purpose!”
A bell was ringing somewhere, another visitor. But she could not move.
It had been wrong, stupid, to allow herself to become dependent on this hard, remote man. And yet she had known it was there. As at St Paul ’s, when he had risked the stares and the condemnation.
She said softly, “You should have married someone suitable.”
He smiled. “I did. Or I thought she suited. But she went with another. Greener pastures, I believe it is called.”
He said it without anger or emotion, as though it were something forgotten. Or was that, too, another form of defence? There were voices now, probably the secretary Marlow or one of his burly servants.
He put his hand on her arm and held it, and she watched, detached, as if she were watching someone else.
She said, “Would you have me as your mistress, my lord?”
She lifted her eyes and looked at him. Angry, wanting to hurt this unreachable man.
He took her other arm and turned her towards him, holding her only inches away.
“As I said before, Catherine. As my wife. I can give you the security you need and deserve. I loved you at a distance, and sometimes I fought against it. So now it is said.”
She did not resist as he pulled her against him, did not even flinch when he touched her hair and her skin. A voice was screaming, what is the matter with you? But all she could see was the damaged door. Whore.
She whispered, “No. Please don’t.”
He held her away and studied her face, feature by feature.
“Come with me on this last duty, Catherine. Then I will know.” He tried to smile. “And so will the Prince Regent!”
Again it came to her. When she had met Richard at Antigua, so long ago, it seemed, she had told him that he needed love, as the desert craves for rain. She had been describing herself.
She thought of all the rare, precious times they had spent together. As one. And the endless waiting in between. And the finality.
Don’t leave me.
But there was no reply.
John Allday rested against the iron railings at the top of the jetty, so well-worn throughout the years that they were quite smooth, and stared across the crowded anchorage. One of the local carriers had given him a ride into Falmouth; he would doubtless be calling at the inn later on for some free ale.
Allday was glad he had come. It was something he could not explain to Unis, to anybody. It was probably bad for him, holding on to the past. Was it that?…
She was a frigate of some thirty-eight guns, although he had noticed that some of her ports were empty, as if her main armament had been cut down for some reason. She was named Kestrel, and even without a glass he had seen her figurehead, the spread wings and curved beak. As if it were alive. He did not know the ship, and that troubled him. Before long, there would be many more ships coming and leaving which were strangers to him, in name and reputation. No reminders.
He studied the frigate with a critical eye. A fine-looking vessel, freshly painted, and her furled or brailed-up canvas all new from the sailmakers. There were few local craft around her, so she was not in Falmouth to take on stores. He had heard someone say that Kestrel was already armed and provisioned, in readiness for a long voyage. Not Biscay or the Mediterranean this time; somewhere far away, perhaps. There were scarlet uniforms at the gangways and forecastle; her captain was taking no chances on last-minute desertions. A change of heart caused by the news of more advances across the Channel, the end finally in sight. But the navy would still be needed. And there would always be deserters.