Avery smiled. "I was in awe of him when we first met. I am closer to him now. But he still frightens me more than I'd care to admit!"
Kellett put down his empty glass. That was welcome, sir."
Avery got carefully to his feet. Strange to think of French officers sitting here as they had done, discussing the prospects of battle, promotion, or perhaps love.
Kellett seemed to come to a decision. "Captain Oliphant was very fond of women. He would get into debt because of them, if it suited. My predecessor was "transferred" because he refused to help him. I suspect I was retained merely because of my illustrious father." He forced a smile. "I would deny every word in court, of course!"
Avery said gravely, "Of course."
They both laughed, and Kellett shook his hand. "Be careful on this mission. I would not wish to lose a friend, one so newly gained." Then he was gone.
Avery thought about it. Rhodes had been the one who had arranged for Frobisher to become Sir Richard's flagship. It would have been the making of Oliphant, no matter what the future held. He heard a boat being warped alongside. It was time.
But. related or not, Rhodes would never have suggested Oliphant for flag captain if there had been even the faintest hint of scandal, especially as he valued his own prospective appointment to First Lord.
Captain Oliphant was very fond of women. Kellett's words seemed to linger in the humid air.
It was not their concern. James Tyacke's decision to join them had changed everything, and from what Kellett had said, not only for Sir Richard's little crew.
He thought he could hear Tyacke's voice through the after screen, even before he reached the great cabin. The Royal Marine sentry remained expressionless, his eyes fixed on some point at the opposite end of the ship as he rapped his musket on the deck and shouted, "Flag lieutenant, sir]'
Bolitho looked up from his table and smiled at him.
"I know, George. It is almost time." If he were glad of the interruption, he gave no sign of it.
He turned to Tyacke and said, "You have my written orders, James. You are captain-in-charge until our return, unless despatches to the contrary direct you. The ship is in good hands. None better." He held out his own hand, and Avery knew that although Allday, too, was present,
for Bolitho, the cabin was empty but for himself and his captain.
He said, Trust me. This is something that must be done. If I wait for a full show of force, it might be too late. You know that."
Tyacke sounded very calm again, but he was not resigned. "I worked too long with slavers. I know these scum, no matter what they call themselves. It matters to me that we finish our work here." He hesitated. "And go home."
Ozzard had insisted on joining them aboard Halcyon, and when he had finished supervising the lowering of the admiral's bag into the boat, he snapped, "He can't manage his own, can he?"
Allday was still thinking about Tyacke, his mention of home, something previously unknown.
He ventured cautiously, "About Cap'n Tyacke, an' what you said, Tom. I thought
Ozzard peered up at him, in the first shadows of evening.
"Thought? Leave thinking to horses, they've got bigger heads!"
Allday watched him bustle away, and was troubled by it. Tyacke's talk of home remained uppermost in his mind. For all of us.
As sunset touched the ancient battlements like blood, Bolitho and his companions were pulled across to the frigate Halcyon. There was a promising breeze, and the capstan was already manned, the sails loosened in readiness to leave.
Within the hour, it was as if she had never been.
11. A Sailor's Woman
The staircase somewhere to the rear of the main Admiralty building was narrow and, Catherine guessed, rarely used. The banister was dusty; she could feel it under her glove, and when she reached the final curve of the stairs she looked down and saw cobwebs on the hem of her gown.
The few windows were sealed despite the heavy air, and the hint of a thunderstorm which hovered over London and the river.
She had once heard Richard mention going to the Admiralty by way of the back stairs. This must have been what he meant.
The elderly Admiralty clerk paused to look back at her. 'i am very sorry, m'lady. Sir Graham Bethune was unavoidably detained, and asked that you meet him here."
Here was a small ante-room, with three chairs and little else. A place of assignations, perhaps.
Thank you. I will wait."
She could hear the clerk's heavy breathing, almost painful. He was not used to the back stairs, obviously.
Alone again, Catherine crossed to a window, but saw only the slope of another roof. It could be anywhere. She suppressed a shiver. It was like the view from a prison.
Perhaps she should not have come. But once in London she had kept herself busy, seeing the lawyers again, and sending a note by hand to Bethune. She sighed. And tonight, another reception, as Sillitoe's guest. She would be careful. But she needed his advice, and he would know it.
Then a few more days before returning to Cornwall, to the grey house. Waiting.
She thought about the reception that evening; how different it might have been. It was yet another party in honour of the Duke of Wellington's return to England. She had heard of one held at Burlington House to which nearly two thousand guests had been invited, many wearing grotesque costumes, and with behaviour to match. The wine had been consumed in such quantity that it was doubtful many of the guests would have remembered if the Iron Duke had been there or not.
She was tired, and hoped it did not show. Now, as on other such occasions, she always felt as if she were performing, for both of them, no matter what interpretation others might choose to put upon it.
The main door opened and closed in one swift movement, so that she had only a brief glimpse of dark blue carpet and gilt chairs beyond.
Bethune seized her hands and held them to his lips.
"A thousand apologies. Lady Somervell. I only arrived back from Paris two days ago, and when your note came I could not free myself!" He did not release her hands, and studied her with a warmth and affection which she knew was genuine.
She smiled. "How was Paris?"
He glanced toward a chair and then flicked it with his handkerchief.
"Crowded. Full of uniforms." He looked at her again. "Foreign."
She sat down and turned her ankle to look for the cobweb, but it was gone. She saw his eyes follow the movement, and could understand why he was so attractive to women.
"Did Lady Bethune accompany you?"
He looked away. "She did. She is here, at the Admiralty, now."
It explained the back stairs, the secrecy, if there was such a thing any more.
He sat on the chair opposite her, his knees bent and apart, more like the awkward midshipman he had been than a flag officer. It made him seem more human; a friend.
He said, "I have had little success so far, Lady Somervell."
She raised her hand. "Catherine."
He smiled. "Catherine. Sir Richard's squadron is not yet assembled at Malta, but when it is, we may expect more news."
"And if he is allowed to come home, where then? Where next? Are they so ungrateful that they forget what they already owe him? I had hoped to join him, if only briefly, at Malta." She looked at him until he dropped his eyes. "It was my promise to him."
"I remember. The situation in Malta is complicated. More so because there is trouble with the Algerines." He tried to lighten it. "Yet again. It is a sensitive time, not least for Sir Richard."
"If I joined him, at my own expense and not that of the Treasury, unlike so many, it might offend the proprieties… marriage and religion… is that it?"
"Perhaps. But I have not abandoned the idea. However, there is one excellent piece of news. The frigate Valkyrie is to be withdrawn from the Halifax squadron. Adam will find orders waiting for him to return to England. To Plymouth."
She shook her head, and did not see his eyes move to her hair and neck. "I do not understand."