Home Is the Sailor

by Lee Rowan

  They hardly spoke. There was nothing to say, really, and it was safer to keep quiet, alert for any sound out in the hall. But even without the pleasure of sex, there was an inexpressible comfort in holding Davy against him, feeling the warmth of his body through the two thin layers of nightclothes. If only they had been two half-pay sailors, forced by necessity to share a bed… but at least they did have this place to be together, for a little while.

  And for how much longer? Matters here would come to a crisis; that must happen. And matters in the larger world were also moving toward conflict. At some point, a few weeks or a few months, the war would explode again and he would be called away.

  Could he go?

  He remembered what life had been like, in those weeks while Davy was lying convalescent in Kingston. He’d been a splendid officer then, daring beyond all reason. It was easy to risk your life when you truly did not care if you ever saw another sunrise. If Davy had died, he would have been not only indifferent to death, but actively seeking it. There were worse ways to die than going out in a blaze of glory.

  But not now, not while he had something so precious here in his arms. He held Davy close, reveling in the warmth of him. If only they could….

  Davy raised his face from Will’s shoulder and brushed his lips against Will’s. “Don’t mean to tease,” he said softly.

  “I know.”

  A kiss was all they dared. For now, it was enough.

  Chapter 9

  THE NEXT day brought a small surprise; the Vicar came to call, and David was made to feel his age. He blinked when “Reverend Newkirk” was announced at the door of the drawing room, where he and Will were idly conversing with Amelia and Jane. He looked at the Reverend, and looked again. “Peter Newkirk! Is that you?”

  “Archer! Yes, I had heard you were visiting, of course.” He paid his respects to the ladies, then said, “How have you been, my dear fellow?”

  “Well enough. And may I present Captain Marshall, my friend and shipmate? Will, this is my distant cousin, Peter Newkirk—one-time chief instigator of mischief when we were schoolboys—he was a year ahead of me—and now Vicar. How he managed it, I shall never know.”

  As Newkirk and Will shook hands, the Vicar said, “A love of Latin was the start of it, Archer. As to the position, the Earl kindly gave me the living after my predecessor went to his reward. I’m undeserving, of course, but I have been assured by my teachers that a little sin in one’s youth is indispensable for a man of the cloth, as a man who has never sinned has no true understanding of human frailty.”

  “A sensible philosophy, sir,” Will said. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “What brings you here today?” David asked.

  “Your brother’s widow wished to speak to me,” Newkirk said. “If I can be of any comfort to her, I shall be most happy to oblige.”

  “Thank you so much for coming,” Amelia said, joining them. “I can take you up to her now, if you wish.”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  He followed her out, but Amelia was back, alone, in only a few minutes. “Davy, would you come with me, please?”

  “Of course,” he said, following her out to the hall. “What is it?”

  “Virginia’s back on her hobby-horse again,” Amelia said grimly. “She’s telling the poor Vicar that he must order Ronald to confess and repent, and if Ronald refuses, his guilt should be denounced from the pulpit. I don’t think Peter has ever run into this sort of crisis before, poor man. He looks quite distraught.”

  “It didn’t take her long,” David said as they hurried up the stairs.

  “No, I think she must have been fretting over this all night. She asked Father to send for the Vicar first thing this morning.”

  “Where is Father?”

  “Closeted with Ronald, the estate books, and Thomas Legge. I should prefer not to interrupt them unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

  “If for no other reason than to deny Ronald the pleasure of knowing he goaded Virginia into creating another scene.”

  “Yes, exactly. I sent her maid out to fetch some tea as soon as she started carrying on, but the Lord only knows what she may have been saying before I arrived.”

  That was all the family needed—rumor of murder among the servants. “I don’t imagine there’s much chance of stopping the gossip now, after that outburst at dinner. But I’ll do what I can.”

  “If you go back downstairs before I do, please ask Jane to look in on Genie and see if she is feeling any better.”

  “And not listening at the keyhole?”

  “I hope not—and I hope this racket does not carry into Mother’s room!”

  He could hear his sister-in-law’s voice raised even before Amelia opened the door, but the diatribe paused for a moment when he entered the hot, stuffy room. Propped up in bed with a coverlet smoothed across her mountainous figure, Virginia pinned him with a glance. “David! You know what has happened here. You know!” Her face was flushed and damp; the force of her anger and frustration hit him like a cannon recoil. “Tell this man he must be the instrument of God’s truth and God’s vengeance!”

  “Yes, certainly I will,” David said, keeping his voice even. “But really, Virginia, you yourself must keep calm for the baby’s sake. I can tell Reverend Newkirk all about it downstairs, so you will not be further distressed.”

  She sighed, falling back against the pillows. “You are a true brother. You and your friend will have to take my part—”

  He could not let her start on that again. “Yes, we’ll deal with everything,” he said. “Did you wish to pray with the Vicar, before he goes?”

  “Praying is useless,” she said, starting up again. “Useless! I have prayed myself hoarse. Now is the time for action!”

  “Yes, of course. Rest assured I shall do everything necessary.” He glanced at Peter and nodded toward the door, which popped open to admit a flustered maid carrying a tea tray.

  After assuring Virginia that he would pray over the matter, poor Newkirk took a hasty leave.

  “Thank you for coming, Peter,” Amelia said at the doorway. “I will stay with her for a little while. I believe the doctor left a cordial for her to drink.”

  “She needs something stronger than a cordial!” Newkirk declared once the door was closed. “Archer, I conducted your brother’s funeral and condoled with your parents, but the Lady Virginia was prostrate and I had no speech with her until today. Is there—could there be—any truth to that outrageous claim?”

  David was unable to answer. The mirror that had just been held up to him showed a very disturbing image; he wondered if his own suspicions sounded as insane as Virginia’s accusations. This was no time to speak of them, at any rate. “I don’t see how there could be,” he said carefully. “The coroner ruled my brother’s death accidental, and to the best of our knowledge, Ronald was in London at the time.”

  “She said that your brother Ronald gave her reason to believe he had been here in secret—that he had indeed killed Lord Mark. Has he said anything of the sort to anyone else? Do you—” He broke off as another maid came down the hall with a tea tray and disappeared into the Countess’ chambers.

  “I know nothing of that, but Lady Virginia did not become agitated until Ronald returned a few days ago. My father has said Ronald was in London, and so we all believe. I do think he was always envious of Mark’s position, and Virginia was aware of his feelings, but envy is not uncommon in a younger son—and while envy might be a powerful motive, murder is hardly inevitable.”

  Newkirk nodded. “And yet jealousy so often leads to violence. I shall be glad when I’ve added a few years to my own understanding. I must speak with the Earl, but his experience is so far beyond mine….”

  “I agree, you should see him, but my father is closeted with my brother and our man of business at the moment. I would rather not interrupt them unless you are in a hurry. As to your experience—you’ll add the years soon enough, and I know you have
the advantage of my father when it comes to theology. He must surely agree with you that Virginia’s behavior is outside the bounds of reason. Would you care for tea and some refreshments? I think Mr. Legge will be leaving fairly soon. And in the meantime, perhaps we had better send for the doctor.”

  “I agree. Such agitation cannot be good for either Lady Virginia or her child.”

  David deposited Newkirk in the drawing room and drew Jane aside to convey Amelia’s message. She volunteered to send a servant off for tea and cakes, and David saw to it that a messenger was sent to find the doctor. By the time Dr. Fiske arrived, the tea had been consumed, the business meeting adjourned, and Mr. Legge was taking his departure. Ronald, thankfully, made himself scarce—where he went, David neither knew nor cared.

  While Amelia escorted the doctor up to Virginia’s room, David took Newkirk to see the Earl, then rejoined Will in the drawing room, where he was alone, ensconced in one of a pair of wing-chairs and perusing an old edition of the Naval Gazette.

  “I don’t believe I’ve seen so much bustle here since we arrived,” Will said. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  David dropped into the other chair. “Not unless you can persuade my sister-in-law that her cause is not best served by accusing Ronald of fratricide, at the top of her lungs, to anyone who will listen.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “You have a gift for understatement,” David said wryly. “It was Newkirk’s suggestion that we call Dr. Fiske, and I only hope he has some sort of medicine to help settle her nerves. I’d best stay on hand in case of further alarms, but if you’d like to retreat to your room, I wouldn’t blame you. I’ll join you there as soon as the dust settles.”

  “And leave you in the lurch?”

  “There’s no telling what mood my father will be in after Newkirk talks to him, and there’s still the doctor’s report after that. Father can growl at me if he likes.” He shrugged. “My father is accustomed to order in his household. He has little tolerance of irregular behavior and histrionics, still less in the presence of a guest.”

  “I’ll get out from underfoot, then. But do let me know if you need me.”

  David smiled wearily. “Always—but in reserve, for now.”

  Will gave his arm a sympathetic squeeze and took his leave.

  David was pleased to have the less onerous chore of thanking the Vicar and escorting him to the door while Amelia saw Dr. Fiske to the Earl’s study and stayed on hand for the doctor’s report. She was shooed away when Fiske was invited to stay for a drink, and joined her brother in the drawing room.

  “What news?” David asked her. “And how are you bearing up?”

  “Oh, I’ll do. Virginia seems to be well enough, physically. The doctor said she should be given chamomile tea and her forehead bathed with lavender water. He does not wish her given more laudanum than is already in her cordial, as he thinks it might not be good for the baby—he said he was averse to risking the child’s health just to keep the mother quiet. Father agreed.”

  “Well, that makes sense, I suppose,” David said. “But it’s going to be lively around here until that child is born.”

  “Perhaps not. Dr. Fiske did order Virginia to stay quietly in her room, and we are under no circumstances to allow Ronald anywhere near her.”

  “Also sensible—whether or not he believes her accusations. The Vicar said something interesting, Lia. He said Virginia claimed that Ronald led her to believe he did kill Mark. Were you with them at the time?”

  “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 much longer.

  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 Major 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 beast who kindly 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 the 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, Wi
ll, 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 a while, 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 Lt. 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!