Sir Edward frowned. "I do not see that this has anything to do with—"
"When my father first took me aboard with him, Mr. Whayles asked me my name. I didn't tell him. He gave me a piccolo and carved me some wooden pets. As silent as me, he said. And after that, they just called me Mattie's little girl."
"And eventually just Mattie Little," he finished, feeling a bit foolish.
"I'm surprised you didn't ask Ambrose about it, he used to know everything about my family. He knew they called me that, and sometimes he called me that as well. Sarcastically, of course, as I was no longer a little girl."
Sir Edward recalled that he had asked Standish, and the man had let him infer the worst instead of setting him straight. The man had also not mentioned that the premature sailing of the Wilde was his own doing. Sir Edward had no one else to blame for his own faulty perception, he had been looking for the worst case, and he’d found it.
She was still rambling, but he interrupted, “Who set your course on the Wilde?”
“Did we have a course?”
He snarled, just a bit out the side of his mouth and deep in his throat, for she spoke in that imitative Cornish lilt once again.
"I know you would prefer to think the worst,” she said, too close to the bone, “but I am not so diabolical as you might want to believe. That would make it easier for you, I suppose. You’re not as nice as you used to be."
He flushed red. "I do not know what you mean."
"I think you do, you’re just being stupid and stubborn. Mr. Franklin used to say: ‘We are all born ignorant, but one must work hard to remain stupid.’”
Then she left without another word. But on this point, he didn’t really have much else to say anyway.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 26 - Sleep Walking
Kate came back in a few minutes for dinner. She meant to stay away, but what is pride where hunger is concerned? The officers spoke of the war and the blockade. She didn’t say much at first; eventually she didn’t even listen, just played with her food. Eventually, she started to hum.
The talk at the table stopped. She didn’t seem to notice. No one spoke for a time, few even moved as they watched her.
She stopped abruptly. “Why have you all gone quiet?”
“Are we boring you, Madam?” the captain said.
She only looked at him in question. One side of his mouth twisted up in a smirk. Someone coughed.
“Kate?” Dr. Llewellyn said and put a hand to her wrist.
She near-jumped, startled, her eyes wide open and confused, as if she had suddenly been awakened.
“You were humming,” one of the officers said gently.
She looked disbelieving.
The doctor concurred. “It was a catchy tune.” He hummed a few bars, and then stopped abruptly with his eyes down and his ears rather bright pink.
She took a drink of wine. The curve of the glass was a poor disguise for her smile.
The captain said again, “Are we boring you, Madam?”
Her head quirked to one side as she thought for a moment, then she said, “Talk of war bores me, too true. Can’t you speak of petunias, or race horse pedigrees, or even the price of tea in China?”
“We speak of what we know,” Sir Edward said.
“Then you don’t know much at all. I have known soldiers and sailors both, and I am not impressed with your logic. Some may speak of many things—foreign places, family and friends. My goodness, some even read books and speak of that too.”
“Many soldiers?” someone said.
Maybe it was meant as an insult, translation: that she had know a few too many men in general and those too well for a lady, but she only shrugged. Most of the men she spoke of were in her own family or worked for the Senlis Family Trust, but that part was none of their business. Kate played with her fork for a moment, and wondered why they had all gone quiet again. She looked up and found them all staring at her now.
She cleared her throat for someone seemed to be humming again, and she thought that perhaps they might have been right. Then she crossed her arms and frowned as she tried to recall if she had been or not. She didn’t recall the tune at all; maybe she had heard it somewhere along the pilgrim trail.
“I don’t hum at the dinner table,” she said stubbornly and more to herself than to them.
“You do not speak French either,” Sir Edward snapped, then immediately apologized. Everyone looked uneasy, and Kate not the least. She did what Mr. Whayles did in a quiet moment, she told them a story. She told them of the ladies on the beach and the children throwing stones.
Some snickered, some clearly didn’t believe her. Sir Edward Lindsay showed rapt interest. Kate wondered what he was thinking behind that glum expression.
“How many troops would you say?” he said at her pause.
“I only saw a small detachment, maybe twenty, and more were still inside for they came to the door when the cavalry came in. I know there is room for almost two hundred in the outbuildings of that villa. The priest is Irish, and he told me so.”
“Two hundred. How long have they been there?”
She sat back. Kate wasn’t sure she should tell him. She didn’t want anything unpleasant to happen to the village. “The priest said less than two weeks this time. He was not happy with their presence.”
“Why, Captain? Is that important?” one of the officers said.
“French troops mustering on Spanish soil? Yes, it’s very important. I think it’s time we made haste to Gibraltar.”
She thought dinner and the conversation was over when a few of the officers rose, but the captain motioned her to sit back down. He played with his wine glass as the other officers left. Kate shifted nervously, but made a point to suppress the tune that came into her head once again.
When they all had gone, Sir Edward spoke into his drink. "They could have shot you, what were you thinking? What were you even doing there?"
"Shot me? I suppose, but it didn’t come to mind at the time, for me or for them obviously. Anyway, I hadn’t got that far along in the plan, you see.”
"They could have come after you,” he said, looking up. “They could have put you in prison.”
They could have put you in prison. Again.
The last word didn’t come from his mouth, but for her it hung there in the air, unsaid and unforgotten. She wondered how much he knew of her time in Paris. He seemed to be there when she needed him, where was he when she was in Paris? Perhaps she would ask him sometime.
She whispered, “I have been to prison, I will not go back. I’ll die in the trying and take some of them with me too.”
“What was that?”
Her spirits rallied and the Irish brogue took hold. "Sure and what would a fool-of-a-French soldier do? Tell their commanding officer they had left their posts to bother some local young lassies? Explain that in the ruckus, they had lost their muskets as they retreated into the sea because some Spanish babes were throwing rocks their way? No, the children got their ransom for the weapons and the soldiers said nothing more about it, I’ll wager. I would count on that, sure and that I would."
His mouth got tight for a moment, and then he said, “Dinner is over.”
He walked out without another word, and Kate was left to stare after. Dr. Llewellyn was soon at the open door. He offered his arm and took her for a stroll around the deck.
“How long before we reach Gibraltar?” she said quietly.
He patted her hand. “Do not let him bully you, Kate. I think you disturb him over much, and he does not have a clue as to why. I can see that he likes you very much, but he has always avoided women, especially on his own ship.”
“I like cocoa very much, but what he looks like when he looks at me, that is not the same thing as the cocoa and me.”
The doctor had to think for a minute; then he laughed. “You are not cocoa, Kate. I believe you are like nothing he has ever known before. Perhaps he wants to think the worst, but inside, I t
hink it is against his better judgment to make you the enemy and the Devil’s own.”
“I’ve seen a dog chase its own tail, so I suppose I know what it is that you mean. More or less.”
He laughed again. “Kate, be patient, I think you will get what you want in the end. And even more, you will get what you deserve.”
Then he bowed and left her there.
She said lowly, “Now wonder, is that good or bad?”
* * * * *
Later that night, all was quiet and most of the crew was sleeping. It was still a calm night, but the heavy air was evidence of a storm brewing. Sir Edward slipped out of his bunk to take a turn on deck, for he was restless.
It only took a moment of the slight breeze of early evening to pick up. Now it was brisk enough to flap the folds of his cloak. Before he got very far, the captain saw a couple of men staring toward the bow with a strange expression on their faces. He turned to see where they were looking.
She stood as far up as a person could go without climbing into the rigging or onto the bowsprit. Her hair was loose and blowing around her shoulders. Her own blanket had fallen to the deck behind her as she looked down into the waves afore. The white of her petticoat was a sharp contrast as she leaned into the wind and the darkness.
At first glance, she might have passed for a ship's figurehead. But on second consideration, he knew she was not even aware of herself. She was humming. It was a solitary sound that came and went with the pulsing of the waves and the wind. It made him freeze for a moment, then the snicker of the crewmen made him snap.
“Get on with your business.”
She was asleep, he knew, for she did not turn at his approach. Her humming now took on a few words. The song was one a child might sing. She sang the words in French. He didn't know the meaning, only that she sounded . . . lost.
"Madam," he said lowly. “Kate?”
She turned bright eyes on him. He thought at first that she might be fevered and already awake. But her eyes looked through him, and she spoke to someone who was not there.
"But why do you skulk there so, Ambrose? Come in, Mother will give you some tea. No? Well, suit yourself. I will not play your silly games."
Then she continued humming and played with something in her hands. Sir Edward looked close, but clearly there was now nothing there. She held it up to her face, as if smelling a bouquet. When she spoke again, there was a slight English blur on her words.
"Wild flowers smell so much sweeter than those grown by choice in a garden. I wonder why that is so? Is it because wild flowers don’t care where they grow? That’s what Mama says."
Then to his amazement, she slid down to the deck, gathered her blanket around herself, and curled into a fetal position. She put her head on a bent arm, and wiggled to make sure the blanket covered her bare feet. Sir Edward watched for a moment, and then realized that she was sleeping normally now.
He frowned. If he picked her up, she might wake. If he left her there, the crew might take it as an invitation.
Or the waves of the storm might wash her away.
Or she would catch her death of cold.
"Madam, you are more trouble than you are worth." But the moment he said it, he knew it wasn’t true. He cleared his throat loudly. She stirred, but did not wake.
Sir Edward turned and called to the Marine on night duty. "What time do you have?"
The Marine called back with some question in his voice, but Kate woke from the noise. She yawned, stretched, and pulled her blanket more tightly around. Then she seemed to notice him there.
"What are you doing in my cabin?" she said.
"You are on deck, Madam. You were sleeping."
The voice that replied was tart Irish wench: "So it is. That might explain the noise and the crowd."
She yawned again and grabbed as his hand to help herself up. The bow sank down into the next wave and the movement threw her against him on its way back up. He steadied her, his arm around her waist, but she did not cling back, only pushed off him and headed down the deck.
He watched her pause in thought, then turn back to him.
"Next time, please knock," she said and continued on her way.
He stood where she had been. Sir Edward took a deep breath and he could swear in to the High Heavens, that even with the wind, it was wild flowers that he was smelling where she had just been.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 27 - Gibraltar
They made port at Gibraltar with little fanfare and much fatigue. Sir Edward was off the ship in a hurry. He left Dr. Llewellyn to see to Kate.
The surgeon tried to explain, “He has his duty to attend, Kate. You understand?”
She did. How could she expect more? They ate in separate quarters after that first dinner and barely spoke a time or two. Kate knew that he was preoccupied with her news from San de Luz. She was worried too.
What have I done, she wondered. “Where will I stay? I don’t have any money,” she said. Then blushed when she realized she had said it out loud.
“There is a carriage waiting to take you up to the Government House. That is where the captain is staying. Sir Humphrey de Warrenne and his wife are very good hosts, they say. It is a nice place, full of nice people, Kate.”
“Oh, I hadn’t . . .” She’d prefer a stable or warehouse somewhere and regretted that she had no more clothes—in fact, she had nothing, but her mother’s journals.
The surgeon just smiled. “Our captain has friends in high places. Or at least his father did. You might say his path has been well paved by those friends along the way.”
“I’m not convinced that’s a compliment he would care to acknowledge, Dr. Llewellyn.”
“No, that is true. Interesting that you seem to know him already. He knows these men, has known them all his life. Still, he has a calling, and it is no fault of his own that the two coincide. A man would be a fool not to accept fate.”
“He’s lucky that way,” Kate said, and didn’t she feel the same way? Well, mostly, and especially lately.
“Yes, our captain is a very lucky man.” Then he turned to Mr. Murray. “See to Miss Senlis’s things, if you please, as we discussed.” Then the surgeon helped her into the carriage.
What things? She had her journals with her. But she called from inside, “Will I see you again?”
“I have a feeling we shall meet again, Kate, but I can not say where or when.”
“Then farewell to you, Dr. Llewellyn. I call you my friend and will miss your presence.”
He frowned, which she had not expected. And Kate could have sworn she saw his eyes start to glisten. But he only bowed, and she waved to Mr. Murray who was watching from above. He gave her a salute, which brought tears to her eyes as well.
“I hate goodbyes,” she whispered.
* * * * *
At that moment, Sir Edward was in the drawing room of another of his father’s friends. Sir Humphrey de Warrenne was commander of the post at Gibraltar, which Britain had held by the treaty ending the War of the Spanish Succession in 1714.
“I have read the dispatches from Sir Hugh,” Sir Humphrey said. “Bad business to be about, feels like I have to go wash my hands every time I get into such things. More and more lately, stinks, what.”
He held up a bottle. Sir Edward needed the brandy, and he got up to take the glass for another mentor.
“So now you are telling me it has all been settled?” Sir Humphrey said.
“No sir, but soon to be,” Sir Edward said. “I believe we have enough to detain the spy, and beyond that, I do not think there is much strain. The trail is not as well hidden as our mole would like to believe.”
“Just a matter of time is what you are saying, what, what? But we need to keep this treacherous rabble under lock and key to give you that time.”
Sir Edward examined the glass, expensive crystal, and swirled the brandy inside. “Yes, sir, I think flight is a definite possibility. We should move as soon as may be.”
&nb
sp; Sir Humphrey tapped the papers on his desk. “But you do not have direct evidence yet?”
“I think we have a connection between our spy and the man found dead in the barrel. The operative was working in the same area that our suspect went to meet some contact, I am sure. Sir Hugh told you of his operative in France?”
Sir Humphrey nodded.
Sir Edward continued, “We also have times, places, and events of when Sir Hugh’s operative was meant to be heard from, but couldn’t have been, since he was probably dead by then. They correspond to where the spy had been. Circumstantial, sir, but when our sovereign interests are concerned, I do not see the worry except where politics are involved. I err on the side of caution, and leave political maneuvers to those who do them best.”
Sir Humphrey held up his glass in toast. “Politics are a matter of timing. If you need more time, you do not tell the politicians what you are doing. Easy enough, what?”
Sir Edward frowned.
“Sir Hugh mentioned your reluctance, my boy, but this really is for the best.”
“The best?”
“For England, my boy, what else?” Sir Humphrey said, thumping his chest with pride. “All that we do is for King and Country, what? Does anything else really matter? After all, these have been troubled times.”
He was talking about first the American War, and then the French Revolution. England had a new kind of enemy than it had ever had before.
Sir Edward smiled wryly and joined in the toast. He had thought long and hard for the rest of their voyage to here—about a lot of things.
Standish had lied to him and more than once.
Standish had the means and maybe a motive.
It was Standish’s own idea for the Earl to take the Wilde out. And Standish had been furious to be taken aboard the Stalwart.
And lately the man showed up in too many places where information was exchanged and dark power brewed.
The Wilde Flower Saga: A Contrary Wind (Historical Adventure Series) Page 27
