The Master's Wife

by Jane Jackson

  ‘I’m looking for my wife.’

  ‘Her name?’

  He had to moisten his lips before he could speak. ‘Barata, Caseley Barata.’

  She smiled. ‘Yes, she’s here.’

  His eyes closed for an instant. ‘Is she –?’ He couldn’t finish.

  ‘She wasn’t hurt.’

  ‘May I see her?’

  ‘Of course.’ She dropped the scrubbing brush into the bucket and struggled to her feet, ignoring the hand he offered. ‘Thank you, but I can manage.’ As she stood, lean and tall, he saw her face was pale and etched with exhaustion.

  Moving the bucket back against the wall out of the way, she led him down the wide corridor. ‘Her arrival was a gift from God. We are so grateful for her help.’ She opened a door and stood back to let him pass.

  Caseley lay where she had fallen on the couch. She still wore her stained and dusty thobe with a bibbed apron over it. A white scarf was crumpled under her head. Curls had escaped from the untidy coil and clung to her temple and cheek.

  He knelt beside her, his hungry gaze taking in the plum-coloured shadows beneath her eyes, skin grey-white with fatigue stretched tight over her cheekbones. He had never seen her in such a dirty dishevelled state, nor had she ever looked more beautiful to him. She was alive and safe. He stroked her face with gentle fingertips, fighting the sobs that wrenched his chest, and heard the door close quietly.

  Caseley opened her eyes. They were blank, unseeing. She gazed at him and he watched awareness return. Relief and love lit her slow smile even as tears spilled down her cheeks. ‘You’re back.’

  ‘I promised.’

  She sat up, wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her face to his. ‘Oh, Jago.’

  He held her, breathed her in. He could feel her bones. She looked so fragile. God alone knew what she had seen and dealt with these past days. The need to protect her sent a violent tremor through him.

  He moved to sit beside her, one arm around her shoulders, his free hand holding hers against his heart. ‘You appear to have been busy.’

  Glancing down at her dirty clothes she made a wry face. ‘After you went I would have gone mad just waiting. Mr Blaine said most of the doctors had left so I came here and offered my help. When the bombardment started – the noise –’ she shook her head. ‘I have never heard – it was terrifying. But soon injured people were pouring through the doors and we were so busy there wasn’t time to think about what was happening outside. Mr Pawlyn brought Antonia in. She had left the Consulate early to go with him to take photographs so she wasn’t there when it was hit. She had a deep gash on her head that needed stitches. Sabra brought Sheikh Imad who had been shot. The doctor removed the bullet and he will recover.’ She ran out of breath, turned to him. ‘I kept telling myself you would come. You had to. I closed my eyes and pictured your face and that gave me the strength to do what the sisters asked –’

  He stopped her desperate words with his mouth, kissing her until both were breathless.

  She eased back, looked into his beloved face, and saw strain and exhaustion that reflected her own. ‘Please can we go home now?’

  They stopped at the supply room. Caseley opened the door just as Antonia and Robert Pawlyn were coming out. Antonia had a bandage around her head. She caught Caseley’s hand. ‘Thank you. Soeur Jeanne told me what you did for me.’

  ‘I was glad to.’

  ‘Captain, I am happy to see you safely back.’

  Jago inclined his head. ‘Thank you, Miss Collingwood. ‘My wife and I wish you both every happiness,’ He shook hands with Pawlyn.

  ‘Where will you –?’ Caseley began then stopped.

  ‘Antonia’s coming home with me,’ Pawlyn said, picking up her camera box. Caseley saw pride and love in his gaze. ‘The building I’m in escaped the worst of the shelling and the landlord has spare rooms. We’ll marry as soon as it can be arranged.’

  ‘But today,’ Antonia said, ‘I am determined to take photographs. Alexandria was a beautiful city. Now I hear it is destroyed.’

  ‘You will need to take care,’ Jago said. ‘Fires are raging all along the waterfront and in the European Quarter.’

  Antonia shook her head, compressing her lips to stop them trembling then dragged in a breath. ‘How could the ships not have realised? Surely they must have seen that the shells were overshooting and landing in the city?’

  About to say that Sabra was of the opinion that the damage had been deliberate, Caseley stopped herself in time. Antonia would want to know how she knew. It would not serve anyone for her to discover Sheikh Imad was in the hospital.

  ‘There must be a record for the future, images that show what happened here,’ Antonia declared. ‘Forgive me, you will be anxious to leave. I – We –’ glancing at Pawlyn she corrected herself, winning a quick smile from him, ‘wish you both a safe journey home.’

  Impulsively, Caseley gave her a quick hug. ‘Be happy,’ she whispered.

  ‘I think – I hope – I will be. Robert believes in me. You cannot know how much that means.’ Antonia murmured.

  Caseley knew, far better than Antonia realised. Smiling she stepped back, and Antonia reached for the case of photographic plates.

  After looking into the wards and saying goodbye to Soeur Marie and Soeur Jeanne, who thanked her again, Caseley covered her head with her scarf and with her arm through Jago’s, walked out into the mid-July heat.

  It took them nearly an hour to reach Cygnet. They saw parties of sailors and marines fighting the fires. In areas that had escaped the worst, shops were open.

  Jago helped her along the gangplank. ‘Good to see you, missus,’ Nathan said.

  Martin poked his head out of the galley shack. ‘Missed you awful we have.’ He glanced warily at Jago. ‘Beg pardon, Cap’n.’

  ‘Hot water,’ Jago growled as the corners of his mouth twitched.

  ‘Aye, sir.’

  Hammer and Jimbo both raised a forefinger to their foreheads in salute. ‘Can we leave now, Cap’n? Fresh water tank is full. While you was gone Hammer rowed over to one of the ironclads and begged a sack of flour, some salt pork and fresh veg.’

  ‘Get the sails up.’ Jago led the way down the companionway. Inside his day cabin he kicked the door closed and pulled her close. ‘When we came near on our way back from Port Said and I saw the smoke –’ His arms tightened. ‘Never in my life have I known such fear.’

  Arms around him she nestled her head against his warm neck and breathed in his unique scent. ‘Even if the sisters hadn’t needed me I would have had to keep working.’

  ‘Did it help the time pass more quickly?’

  ‘Yes, but that wasn’t the reason. I was bargaining with God to bring you back safe. If I had lost you too –’

  ‘You will never lose me. I am yours, body and soul. Never again, Caseley. I will not be parted from you again. Either you must sail with me or I shall leave the sea and spend more time on the yard.’

  Before she could respond there was a knock on the door. ‘Hot water, Cap’n.’

  Reluctantly, he released her. ‘As soon as we’re out of the harbour we’ll have a meal. Then you should rest.’

  He brought in the water pitcher and set it down beside the washstand. Pausing briefly to touch her face, he went out, closing the door behind him.

  Stripping off her grubby garments, Caseley rolled them up and put them in the trunk, taking out a clean shift and her sprigged cotton dress, relieved she had something clean to put on. Everything she had taken ashore lay beneath the ruins of the Consulate.

  The cabin floor tilted beneath her feet and she was careful not to overfill the basin.

  Washed, dressed and her teeth cleaned, she was still tired but felt much restored. Finding a spare comb amid the sea junk on the shelf she redid her hair and had just replaced the last pin when Jago opened the door.

  ‘How are you now?’

  ‘Better.’ Dropping the comb on the table she went to him. As his strong arms
closed around her she knew this was where she belonged. ‘I missed you so much.’

  ‘When I saw the smoke and the flames –’ Feeling the shudder ripple through him, she held him tighter. ‘All I could think of was finding you.’

  She put a finger against his lips. ‘I am with you so I am safe.’ She reached up and laid her mouth on his, felt his arms tighten around her.

  ‘Dinner, Cap’n, Missus,’ Martin yelled through the door.

  ‘Dammit,’ Jago murmured against her lips. He drew back. ‘Wait until I get you home.’

  Caseley gazed at his beloved face, saw new lines scored by anxiety. When they left Cornwall she had been unable to picture being happy ever again. But she was, beyond anything she could have imagined. She smoothed a lock of hair back from his forehead. ‘Must I?’

  ‘Must you what?’

  ‘Wait?’ Feeling a blush burn her cheeks she turned away to open the door, catching her breath and feeling herself quake as he gently bit her neck.

  His hand rested, warm and possessive, on her waist as they entered the saloon where Martin had just removed the lid from a steaming pot of stew.

  Caseley’s mouth watered at the savoury aroma. ‘Martin, that smells delicious.’

  Footsteps clanged on the brass stairs. Nathan came in followed by Hammer.

  ‘Jimbo got the helm, Cap’n,’ the mate said.

  Jago nodded. ‘Hammer, are we carrying any spare timber? The berth in my sleeping cabin –’

  ‘Be done by sundown, Cap’n.’

  While they ate and Caseley answered their questions she was acutely aware of the man at her side, his knee touching hers. Her husband. Her beloved. Jago.

  The End

  Author’s Note

  Claims in the British Press that rising unrest in Egypt might endanger the Suez Canal brought the British and French fleets to Alexandria in May 1882. In June there was a riot in the city during which the trusted body-servant of British Admiral Sir Beauchamp Seymour was killed.

  Admiral Seymour issued an ultimatum ordering reinforcement work on the forts to cease immediately. Responsible for ensuring the city was adequately defended, Colonel Arabi, the nationalist leader who was also minister for war, could not stop work on the forts without orders from the khedive. These were not forthcoming. Refusing to take part in an unprovoked act of aggression, the French admiral removed his fleet.

  British naval guns opened fire at 7 a.m. on 11th July, their supposed aim to destroy the forts sited along the coastline of the city. But when the bombardment ceased at 5.30 p.m., the wealthy cosmopolitan heart of Alexandria had been totally destroyed.

  Book One in

  The Captain’s Honour Series

  Nominated for the 2016 RONA award for Historical romance

  For more information about

  Jane Jackson

  and other Accent Press titles

  please visit

  www.accentpress.co.uk

  © 2016 Jane Jackson

  The right of Jane Jackson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the copyright holder.

  Published by Accent Press Ltd 2016

  Paperback ISBN: 9781909624085

  Ebook ISBN: 9781909624023