Home Is the Sailor (18 page)

“No. How strange! I wonder when he might have done that?”

“I’ve no idea. If he meant to discredit her suspicions, that would be a clever way to go about it—admit that he’d done it, so quietly that no one else heard, so all her accusations would sound more and more unbalanced.”

“That would be incredibly cruel, Davy.”

“Of course it would—but so is murder cruel. And where has our heir-apparent gone, do you know?”

“Off to visit friends,” she said. “He may not be back until late, or even until tomorrow. I don’t suppose you could call up a press-gang and have him quietly spirited away—for even a little while?”

He smiled without humor. “Don’t tempt me. If the war were on, and we were in Portsmouth, I think it might be managed. And I’d do my best to get him on a ship bound for Australia. Or perhaps New Zealand—I hear the cannibals there are particularly fierce.”

* * * * *

Will sat by the fire with his
Gazette
, reading once more the letter sent in by his former commanding officer concerning an action in which he and Davy had taken part. As usual, Captain Smith downplayed his own heroism and lavishly praised officers and crew. That had been the last action they had seen in
Calypso,
that best of all frigates. It had been less than two years since they had all been transferred to another ship
,
but it seemed like an age long past.

How easy life had been then—even in the middle of a war, even with the necessity of keeping their love concealed from everyone. It had been so much simpler before the fear bored its way into his soul. He’d been able to fight with Davy at his side, trusting their luck to keep them safe. He had known what to do. He’d had a job, responsibilities, respect.

Here? Grenbrook Manor was
terra incognita
and he was out of his element, completely shorn of responsibility and authority. All he could do was follow Davy’s lead, but Davy seemed hamstrung by his family’s expectations. And there appeared to be no way they could prove that Ronald Archer had done murder, if indeed he had. The coroner had ruled, the body was buried, and Will saw no further avenue for investigation. They were at an impasse.

He leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment, starting awake at a touch on his shoulder. It was Davy, looking weary and annoyed. Will guessed he would love to be back on the
Calypso
himself, with a gun crew awaiting his command. “You look as though you’ve had one visitor too many,” he said.

“No, just one case of hysterics too many. Virginia went off again and the doctor did have to give her a dose of laudanum before he left, though he hadn’t intended to.”

“What possible good does she imagine she’s doing?”

Davy held up both hands, forestalling discussion. “I think she’s lost to rational thought, Will, and dealing with her obsession is beyond me. Even if she’s correct in her suspicions, and you know I share them, she’s only making things worse for everyone. I mean to go out for a ride and clear my own head. If I don’t spend some time away from all this, I may run amok myself.”

The suggestion made Will feel a hundred pounds lighter. “I hope you will not object to my company?”

“I depend upon it. Are you feeling adventurous enough to ride horseback in the dark?”

“Even that,” Will said. “So long as you give me that mild-mannered creature who refrained from throwing me during our first encounter.”

Davy laughed. “Let’s have a ride down to the village, then. I’m told the current batch of ale at the Bull is particularly good. Not that it matters. I’d drink cold tea from an old boot if it would get me out of here.”

The sky was not quite dark when they set out, and Will found himself less apprehensive in the saddle, more able to appreciate his surroundings—the deepening blue of the sky, the tracery of branches dead-black against that background, the scent of warming earth under the chill that fell on the land after the sun went down.

“It’s a pretty night, isn’t it?” Davy said beside him. “At times like this, I find myself wishing for the impossible—that the Peace would last— Oh, I know,” he added before Will could voice his doubts on that score. “That will never happen, unless Bonaparte were to die suddenly. Without his bloody-minded ambition, I think the rest of them might find a way to end it.”

“But what then?” Will could scarcely imagine a life that didn’t involve war or expectation of war. “I could live well enough on half-pay, but what would I do?”

“Oh, there will be other fights, count on it. India, Africa, South America...I’m not serious, Will, I am only dreaming. We could buy a little sloop, something small enough that we’d need no crew, and sail away together,” Davy’s voice grew wistful. “We might spend a summer visiting the Channel Islands—drop anchor at night, furl the sails, and sleep in until the sun woke us—and take our own time going up on deck.”

Will had a brief, lovely memory of Davy and a hammock, their last Christmas aboard the
Mermaid
. “It’s a good dream. Perhaps someday we shall.”

“Perhaps.” Davy fell silent, and they rode quietly for awhile, the moon bright at three-quarters, the stars and planets becoming visible one by one.

It was a fine dream, but entirely impractical. Davy came from a class that could contemplate leisure, but Will himself had never thought of a life outside the Navy. When the war resumed, his best hope would be for command of a small vessel of some sort. He could do that. He could do it well. But he found himself no longer able to wish whole-heartedly for that day to come. He might be a better officer, knowing that David Archer was safe ashore—but he could not imagine how he’d find the strength to walk away from him. A pretty dilemma, and all his own, and he saw no resolution for it.

The road wound around moon-silvered fields, then came out suddenly before a small cluster of buildings, a two-story inn across from a stable, and a blacksmith shop next to that, with a few cottages between the businesses. “We have reached the metropolis,” Davy announced. “Let’s get the horses inside the stable and ourselves outside a drink.”

Will’s horse followed Davy’s. That had been the easiest lesson in horsemanship—that most horses would follow another, so there was no need to steer if you had a more experienced rider to take the lead. He was learning, slowly; he even managed to dismount without incident. Davy knew the hostler—Davy apparently knew everyone—and once again Will had the opportunity to express his admiration for Lieutenant Archer’s seamanship and bravery, confirming the local opinion that for all his having his nose in a book, there was nothing shy about Master David!

“You are beloved of your countrymen,” he said when they escaped into the cool evening. “I had not expected you to find such a warm reception, from the things you’ve told me about your home.”

“I’m surprised myself,” Davy admitted. “It may be that so many young men leave and never return, they rejoice in any familiar face.”

“No one came home?”

“Oh, a few have—some from the Army, a handful who went to the coast to join the Sea Fencibles. But not many.”

“Would the soldiers have been from your brother’s regiment?”

“Some may have been. I believe I could find out. And I see where this inquiry is heading.” He stopped at the door to the inn and said quietly, “We’d best mind our tongues inside. Then again—perhaps a careful word might bring us information.”

Will nodded. “Lead on.”

A warm gust of air washed over them when Davy swung open the door, carrying on it a wave of odors—beer, pipe-smoke, and the sweat of hard-working men. Lacking only the scent of a ship’s timbers and salt air, it was not so different from the usual below-decks fug. Will counted eight tables, half of them empty, and no more than eight or nine men present. In such a small village, Will guessed that most of the residents would be home with their families at this hour.

Again, he was struck by the warmth with which the men greeted Davy. Congratulations on his rank, condolences for his loss—all were given with the greatest respect, making it clear that Lieutenant Archer was held in high regard. And Davy immediately increased that regard by buying a round for all present.

“A toast—to my brother’s memory,” Davy said, and the high spirits of the room suddenly stilled. “To my brother Mark,” he repeated in the quiet. “May he rest in peace.”

“And long life and health to His Lordship,” someone added, drawing a murmur of approval. Will raised his own tankard, and followed Davy’s lead to a table against the far wall.

“It’s a shame neither Ronald nor I were able to be on hand for the funeral,” Davy said. “It does seem strange that he’d have been unable to get here from London. But since he arrived after we did—”

The arrival of two mugs of ale stopped his speech, and he raised his hand slightly in a small gesture to stop Will’s reply.

“Compliments of the house, gentlemen,” the serving girl said. At a closer look, Will realized she was not so young as she had first seemed; her brown hair was contained only by a kerchief, but her dark eyes had a hard look to them. “Was you speaking of your brother, sir?”

“You’ve sharp ears, Kittie,” Davy said. “But it’s nothing that concerns you.”

“That’s as may be,” she said, tossing her head. “And maybe not. And maybe,” she lowered her voice, “may be I could tell you something as would make you think otherwise about when your brother came riding back. But as it doesn’t concern me, I’ll say no more, young sir.” With another flounce, she departed, her grand exit marred by a patron who called for her to refill his tankard.

“Saucy baggage,” Will observed.

“More trouble than she’s worth,” Davy said. Keeping an eye on her until she vanished into the kitchen, he added quietly, “The last thing we needed is gossip in the village, and this particular girl has a tongue that wags without discretion or sense. If she weren’t the landlord’s daughter, she’d have been turned off years ago.”

Matching his tone, Will said, “But what she suggested...do you suppose Ronald might really have returned earlier, and kept himself out of sight?”

“That would answer many of our questions,” Davy replied.  “But, much as I would like to believe it, it’s not likely he could stay out of sight. The villagers know all of us too well. If he had been here, someone ought to have seen him.”

Will nodded toward the kitchen. “Perhaps someone did. Would she lie for him?”

Davy laughed humorlessly. “Would she? She has. I’ll tell you about it on the way home.”

They spent an hour or so sipping ale while Davy told sea stories and listened to news about the local farmers. When their mugs were empty and a couple of the other men had gone on their way, they took their leave and went to retrieve their horses. The night had gone chill, but the moon and stars were brighter now in the cold clear air, and the road ahead was easy to see.

“So tell me about this Jezebel,” Will said, once they were clear of the village.

“I believe she’s afflicted with ambition far above her abilities,” Davy said. “The summer before I went to sea, Ronald decided to gain a bit of glory at my expense, so he bribed her to tell some cock-and-bull story that I’d made unwelcome advances toward her dainty self.”

“What?”

“Truly! It’s not that I hadn’t observed and admired her ‘attributes,’ but I certainly hadn’t done any more than that. She’s a couple of years older—quite a difference to a fifteen-year-old boy—and she’d hinted that she might be willing to make a man of me.”

“I trust your instincts held you back.”

“Yes, I developed a fair sense of self-preservation early on. And the lie backfired on them both because Mother had sent me off on an errand that afternoon and I was incontrovertibly elsewhere.”

“You’re joking.”

“Not a bit. And when it turned out that I’d spent half the day listening to the Vicar rehearse his next sermon—”

“Your mother made you do that? Whatever –”

“No, no, just happenstance. The Vicar’s wife was ill—the Vicar we had when I was a child, not Peter Newkirk. My mother sent me over with a jar of calf’s-foot jelly and the old fellow trapped me into listening to his pearls of theological wisdom. I knew that if I skipped out he’d only inflict it on his wife, and she was already feeling poorly, which was why Mother sent the jelly in the first place, so I flung myself into the breach.” He shrugged. “He was a good old fellow, really. Why not humor him?”

“But the accusation…?” Will persisted.

“Oh, Kittie claimed she was only teasing because I was such a sobersides. In fact she was getting her revenge because I hadn’t accepted her indelicate advances. If Ronald had not put it into her head, I expect she’d have thought of it sooner or later. She’s determined to get her hooks into some poor sod, and I think she honestly believed she could drag me to the altar. I should have let her try, really. It would have been a treat to see my father give her a broadside.”

“So as a witness, she would be unconvincing?”

“Worse than useless—positively damaging. I expect her to run off to Ronald and warn him we’re discussing his itinerary. That might prove interesting…” He thought back carefully. “Nothing we said since we entered should have led her to believe we were discussing incriminating circumstances. But if he’s worried about whether he’s left any traces of an earlier arrival, it might make him uneasy.”

“The play’s the thing,” Will said, pleased with his Shakespearean reference.