Bolitho saw Yovell waiting inside the door. "What is it?"
"Shall I pack our things, Sir Richard?"
He saw her look up at the staircase. Remembering how this place had been their haven in London. Now they must leave it.
Then she said, "I shall deal with it, Daniel. You assist Sir Richard." Her eyes were quite calm. "You will have letters, I expect. To Val, and perhaps RearAdmiral Herrick?"
Bolitho thought he saw a message in her eyes but wasn't sure.
"Yes, Val would wish to know." He thought how busy Keen would be, preparing to commission the newly completed Black Prince. It was a nightmare for any captain of a large man-of-war, let alone one which was to wear a viceadmiral's flag at the fore. Shortage of trained hands and seasoned warrant officers, obtaining raw recruits by any manner or means, always more difficult in a naval port like Chatham where the press gang would be betrayed by anyone from tailor to beggar. Arguing with the victualling yards and making sure that the ship's purser was not doing deals to procure rotten stores, so that purser and supplier could pocket the difference between them. Making a forest of oak into a fighting ship.
Bolitho smiled grimly. And yet Keen had found the opportunity to visit Catherine until he himself could reach London and report on the battle.
He would also send word to Adam, although his Anemone had barely had time to anchor after escorting the leaking Truculent to the security of the dockyard. Adam, too, had once been Bolitho's flag lieutenant. More than most, he would appreciate how closely the appointment joined the man to his admiral.
He heard Allday's heavy tread on the kitchen stair. Except for him, of course.
Catherine said thoughtfully, "He had no relatives to speak of, and most of them live abroad."
Bolitho noticed that she never spoke of Somervell by name. "He had friends at Court, I believe."
She seemed to become aware of the concern in his voice and looked up. "Yes, so he did. But even the King was angered by his behaviour-his quick temper and his craving for the tables. He took all that I owned." She touched his face with sudden tenderness. "Another of Fate's little whims, is it not? For now, what there is left will come to me."
That afternoon Jenour arrived quite breathless after changing six horses on the ride from Southampton. When asked why and how he had heard the news, Jenour explained, " Southampton is a great seaport, Sir Richard. News flies on the wind there, although the circumstances were not known." He added simply "My place is here with you. I know how you valued Lord Browne's friendship, and he yours."
Catherine had gone to visit a lawyer with Yovell as her escort. She had declined Bolitho's offer to accompany her and had said, "It is better I do it without you. You might be hurt… I could not bear that, dearest of men."
He said now, "You are just in time, Stephen. We shall quit this place today."
Jenour dropped his eyes. "It will be painful, will it not, Sir Richard?"
Bolitho touched his sleeve. "So old a head on so young a pair of shoulders! "
Somehow Jenour had guessed his innermost feeling, even though he was young and inexperienced. Catherine was free now, and soon, it seemed, she would be independent again. Might Falmouth and his constant absences at sea seem a poor replacement for the life she had once known, and might want again?
Life was like the ocean, he thought; sunshine one moment, a raging storm the next.
He found that he was touching his eye, and felt his heart sink lower. What might she think of him if the worst happened?
"Is there something you wish me to do, Sir Richard?"
Bolitho had forgotten Jenour was there. "We shall be going to Kent shortly to the new flagship." He let his mind dwell on the prospect. He knew that once he would have been on board immediately no matter what anybody said or thought. But to be so near to death, and to lose another friend, put caution where recklessness had once ruled.
"And there is something else," he said.
Jenour said, "I know, Sir Richard. The court-martial."
"Aye, Stephen. War is no place for personal greed and selfish ambition, though God knows you might not be blamed for thinking otherwise. Captain Varian betrayed his trust, just as he did those who depended on him in their greatest need."
Jenour watched his grave profile, the way he occasionally touched his eye. As if he had something in it.
The door opened and Bolitho swung round, ready to greet her. But it was a messenger boy, one of the servants watching him suspiciously from the hall.
"I have brought word from Doctor Rudolf Braks, Sir Richard." He screwed up his face as if to help memorise his message. "You may visit him on the morrow at ten o'clock."
Jenour looked away but was very aware that Bolitho showed no resentment at the curt message. It sounded more like a summons. Jenour had thought Bolitho would be at the Admiralty at about that time. Braks. A foreign-sounding name, one he was almost certain he had heard his father mention; but why?
Bolitho gave the boy a coin and thanked him, his voice distant. Then he heard the carriage returning and said abruptly, "No word of that to Lady Catherine, Stephen. She has enough to face up to as it is."
"Yes, I see, Sir Richard."
"Damn it, you don't, my lad! " Then he turned away and when she entered the room, he was smiling.
She gave her hand to Jenour and then embraced Bolitho.
He asked quietly, "Was it bad?"
She shrugged, that one small gesture which always touched him like a sensitive nerve.
"Enough. But 'tis done for the present. A report will go to the magistrates." She looked at him steadily. "But both men are dead. No one can be charged for what happened."
Jenour discreetly left them alone and she said, "I know what you are thinking, Richard. You are so wrong. If I did not love you so much I would be angry that you could harbour such ideas. You took care of me when I had nothing… now we shall take care of each other." She gazed at the fire and said, "We shall leave now. Quit this haven where we shared our love, and the world was a million miles away."
They looked at the window and the rain which ran down the panes.
"Very apt." She was speaking to the room. "There is no more light here."
The day ended more quickly than either of them had believed possible. There were many comings and goings, friends of the deceased and those who were merely curious, as their stares betrayed.
The same doctor was in attendance, and when he asked if Catherine wished to see where the body of her husband was laid out she shook her head.
"I have been wrong many times, but never, I hope, a hypocrite."
There was only one really unpleasant incident.
The last visitor was introduced as a Colonel Collyear of the King's Household guard. A tall, arrogant soldier with a cruel mouth.
"We meet again, Lady Somervell. I find it grotesque to offer my condolences, but duty requires me to pay my respects to your late husband."
He saw Bolitho for the first time and said in the same affected drawl, "At first, I thought perhaps it might have been you, sir. Had it been-"
Bolitho said calmly, "You will always find me ready enough, and that is a promise. So if you continue to demean an honourable uniform in the presence of a lady, I may forget the solemnity of the occasion."
Catherine said, "I would have put it less politely. Please go."
The man backed away, his spurs and accoutrements jingling as he attempted a dignified retreat.
Bolitho thought suddenly of Hyperion's first lieutenant, Parris, whose mangled body had gone down with the ship after he had shot himself, rather than face the surgeon's saw.
Catherine had recognised him for what he was; and yet Bolitho had not. Only while Parris lay pinned beneath an upended cannon, when he had confessed his passion for Somervell, had he understood. In this very room she had just recognised another in the arrogant colonel.
Jenour hovered by one of the beautiful pillared doorways. "They are all gone, m'lady."