'Thank you, sir.'
'Thank you, sir.'
Heartfelt.
Lieutenant Hayter had returned to Birch Cottage, his home at Winterborne in Dorsetshire, to be once more with his beloved wife Catherine, and his son, and to decide upon his future; neither did Captain Rennie remain in London. He returned to his own home, Southcroft House, at Middingham in Norfolk.
The passage of many weeks had not altered the appearance of his house, but Rennie noticed that the garden was not as well kept as he would have liked, that there was a slight air of neglect. His housemaid Jenny was not quite her usual cheerful self.
'The gardener has took hisself off to the farther side of Fakenham, sir. He has got more reg'lar work there, he says. I asked him what was more reg'lar than his work here at Southcroft, and he says – '
'Yes, well well, thank you, Jenny. We will engage another man presently, I am in no doubt.' He walked from room to room, and saw that everything was in good order, but with the same slight air of stale neglect he had seen outside. His maid – should not he call her his housekeeper? – came bustling downstairs, having taken up his valise, as Rennie emerged from his library.
'All bills and accounts have been settled in my absence?'
'Yes, sir, as you required of me. You wish to see my book?'
'Nay, nay, later will do. We are provisioned in the house? If I wished to invite guests?'
'Guests, sir? If you will tell me what to get in I shall order it in the village, in the forenoon tomorrow.'
'Yes, very good.'
'Will you like tea now, sir? Or hot water and vinegar?'
'What, vinegar? Ugh. Tea, by all means. Thank you.' Distracted, walking again to the entrance and looking out.
Since his return to Portsmouth from the sea action in the Channel, Rennie had not seen Mrs Townend. During the week he and Lieutenant Hayter had spent at the Marine Barracks, Rennie had gone to the Cambridge Road house where Mrs Townend was living with her sister, and had found it empty. Puzzled and dismayed, he had enquired at a neighbouring house about the two ladies who had lived at number fifty-four. He was their friend, he said, and had been at sea. The elderly occupant of the neighbouring house, who let rooms, had told him:
'They have gone away, sir. Mrs Rodgers desired to return to London, and her sister went home to Norfolk, as I understand.'
'Ah. Ah. This was very sudden?'
'As I understand, Mrs Rodgers found the house intolerable damp, sir. She complained that her health would suffer if she did not go away at once.'
'Damp? I did not know it was damp.'
'Between you and me, I do not believe it was damp. There was . . . I do not like to say anything harsh . . . but there was words said between the two ladies. There was disagreement. Damp was not the reason, but damp was proposed as the means to break the lease.'
'Ah. You have been very kind.'
'I hope that I am kind, sir.'
And he had given her a gold sovereign.
Rennie stood now at his door in Norfolk, and looked out at the familiar landscape. He had known Mrs Townend only a short time, and they had been lovers only very briefly, but now he was determined to take things further. He had deliberated on the journey from London whether to call on her at Norwich, and had then decided that he would not. Instead he would return to Southcroft and send word to her as a man in possession of his own house, a man of substance, a post captain RN, newly commissioned. He would ask her to be his wife.
'Speaking of guests, sir,' said Jenny, 'there has been a caller at Southcroft, only recent, enquiring when you was to come home.'
'Caller?' Turning from the door. 'When?' 'A lady, sir. She came the day before yesterday. A Mrs Townend.'
'Mrs Townend! She came here? Why did not y'tell me at once, good heaven? When did she come, did y'say?'
'The day before yesterday, sir.'
'Well? Well? What did she say? Is she staying in the village?'
'I – I do not know that, sir. I said – '
'You did not ask her where she was staying, good God?'
'It ain't my place to ask a lady such questions, sir.'
'No, no, you are quite right. Forgive me, I did not mean to bite off your head. Perhaps she left a card, or a note?'
'Yes, sir. She did leave a note. I had forgot. I left it on your desk, sir, in the library.'
'Very well, thank you, Jenny.' And he smiled at her so that she would not think him an ogre, hurried into his library and retrieved the note. It read:
My darling William,
I am staying with my cousins at Redland House, a mile beyond the village. Your housekeeper has told me that you will soon come home – that you had sent word. I was so very fearful that you would think I had deserted you at Portsmouth. My sister and I have become estranged after a very bitter dispute. I will call again on Thursday, and pray that you will be at home then, dearest.
Sylvia
Rennie folded the note, opened it and reread it, and:
'Jenny! Jenny!'
'Sir?' At the library door.
'I do not want tea, after all. I am going out.'
'Now, sir?'
'Aye, now. I must call on the lady who came here, and ask her a question, right quick. There ain't a moment to lose!'
At Birch Cottage, reunited with his wife, James told her at once of the Admiralty's offer of a new command.
'My darling, you are rightly valued,' said Catherine, looking into James's eyes. 'You are favoured.'
'Yes.' Holding her hands in his, and feeling that nothing mattered but this moment. He brought her hands up and kissed them, then held her to him, and kissed her mouth, her eyes, her neck. 'Yes.'
Presently: 'In course, I will not like it.' Catherine, softly.
'Not like it?' Murmuring, her hair on his cheek.
'No, I will not. It will take you away from me again.'
'Then I will not accept.'
'Not accept?' Drawing back her head to look into his face.
'Perhaps I will not.' Looking at her, and giving her a halfsmile.
'But surely you have always wanted this, have not you? Preferment?'
'The thing that every sea officer wishes for, hey? That he cannot wait to get?'
'Is it not so? My darling, you look as if you did not wish it, after all.' Searching his face, seeing doubt in his eyes.
He drew her to him again, held her, then broke the embrace. 'The truth is – I am not sure.'
'But, why? Surely you have earned it? It is yours by right.'
'Yes, yes, I have earned it. Am fortunate and more to be offered it . . .'
'James, my dearest, I hope that you will not refuse your new command because of anything I have said. I was being foolish just now. I did not mean – '
'I know it. I know you will only wish for my advancement and satisfaction in the service.'
'Then . . . ?'
'I . . . I was obliged to do something at sea, lately, that was very painful to me. It has been much in my thoughts. In truth I have thought of little else since.'
'You had to punish one of your men?'
'No, it was not punishment. It could not be called punishment.'
'Will you tell me?'
'I do not think I can.' Shaking his head.
'James, I am your wife.' Softly, earnestly. 'I can bear anything you tell me.'
'I was . . . I was obliged to shoot a man that was horribly injured, so that he should not suffer any more.' He turned away a moment, and sat down, holding in a breath. Catherine came to him and took his head in her hands, and turned it gently to her.
'Oh, James. Oh, my poor darling, it hurt you so.'
After a moment, when he was again able to speak: 'I don't know that I can ever return to the service. I don't think I am able to command men, now, after that.'
'You must rest, my darling, and try to put it from your mind.'
'I wish I could.'
'Come and see your son. He is so eager to see you, James.'
&n
bsp; 'Is he? Is he? I will like to see him very much, dear little boy. Forgive me for being so melancholy a fellow, will you?' He stood up.
'I would not love you if you did not feel as you do.' Taking his arm as they moved to the door.
Sir Robert Greer looked up from his desk in his library at Kingshill House.
'What is it, Fender?'
'There is a gentleman wishes to see you, Sir Robert.' His servant, at the door.
'Gentleman? At this hour? Tell him to go away.'
'I do not think he will go away, sir, as I may have cause to know.' Touching his cheek.
'What? Who is he?'
'It is the same gentleman that came here before, sir.'
The door now swung fully open, and the servant was pushed aside.
'Good evening, Sir Robert. Or should I say more accurate – Mr Scott? You remember me, I think. I am Major Braithwaite, of the Board of Customs.'
He beckoned in his men, and as Sir Robert rose angrily:
'Do not think of summoning the marines, sir. Do not think of that. They have had instruction from elsewhere, and they will not come.'
'You damned impudent wretch, I will – '
'No, sir. No. You will do nothing. Because, at long last, you are took.'
The Hawk Page 34
