She left the room with no fanfare, resisting the urge to run. The front door looked miles away, but she minded her steps and retained her dignity. Just a few more steps, and she would be out on the street again. She had relinquished her coat to the footman, but he could keep the thing.
She stopped and felt an enormous anger building inside her-so ma.s.sive it frightened her. Was she going to be brave or not?
"Master Six has never asked me for anything before."
She stood there in the foyer, unwilling to turn around. "You have already said no, Captain," she reminded the dratted man. "I will . . . I will think of something else because I intend to succeed. Good day."
"There will soon be war again."
That was it. She rounded on the captain, her fists up, took two steps, and hit him in the face as hard as she could. It was no open slap, but her closed fist.
The pain to her knuckles was immediate, but she pulled back to hit him again.
"That"s enough!" Captain Hallowell exclaimed as he grabbed her hand. "Look now, you"ve bloodied your knuckles. Calm down, my dear, calm down! I think I am about to change my mind."
Meridee gasped and burst into tears. She stood there, her knuckles b.l.o.o.d.y and Captain Hallowell holding her hand so gently now. In fact, his arm went around her shoulder, and before she knew it, she was sobbing into his shirt. "I love him, and he needs a keeper."
"If ever a man had a champion . . ." he said and smoothed down her hair. "Miss Bonfort, I will do everything in my power to help. I know just the place for your man, and it hasn"t anything to do with Trinity House."
"Something better?" she asked, too shy to look at him.
"Aye, Miss Bonfort, although a bit of a secret." He chuckled. "Can I trust you?"
"I can keep a secret," she said as she crossed her heart.
He pulled out his handkerchief, handed it to her, and commanded her to blow her nose. She did as he said, then pressed the cloth to her knuckles. She made the mistake of looking at Captain Hallowell then and gasped to see his eye swelling shut.
"I didn"t mean it!" she exclaimed.
"I believe you did, my dear," he contradicted. "I deserved it, too, after the enormity of what your man did for me. Come now. Let"s find my wife, who will shed her own tears when I tell her what happened and probably scold me later. We can find some salve for your knuckles." He chuckled. "And maybe a beefsteak for my eye. Mr. Bonfort, had you any idea what a ferocious terror you have for a niece?"
"Not at all," her uncle said to her dismay. Meridee also thought she heard a little pride in his voice. "She was always the most biddable girl, perhaps biddable to a fault. This is a new Meridee, and I like her even more."
"Obviously, she has never been in love before," Captain Hallowell said, as he steered her toward the back of the house and told the dumbfounded footman who had witnessed the whole thing to find Mrs. Hallowell, and quickly.
"There is one more way I can a.s.sist you and that sailing master of mine, who has no business wasting his prodigious talents on a mere quarterdeck," the captain said.
Meridee blew her nose again. "Oh, anything, sir. I owe you such an apology, too."
"You owe me nothing," he said. "I had a ma.s.sive debt to discharge, and you . . . er, reminded me." He stopped walking and put his hands on her shoulders. "My dear, we have an ace up our sleeve by the name of Vice Admiral Sir Horatio Nelson. I intend to call in a favor of mine."
"You can do that?" she asked, astounded. Everyone in England was familiar with Sir Horatio.
"I happen to be a member of an august informal little group called Nelson"s Band of Brothers," he said. "I earned that t.i.tle at Aboukir Bay, by d.a.m.n! A letter from me would be well and good, but when the masters of St. Brendan"s hear from Nelson himself . . ." Hallowell chortled and rubbed his hands together. "Tell me, my dear, do you have any objection to setting up housekeeping right here in crowded, noisy, infamous Portsmouth?"
Wide-eyed, she shook her head. "Anywhere Master Six is, is home to me."
He chucked her under her chin. "That is the right answer. Go home now, once we bandage your fingers, or better still, come with me to St. Brendan"s."
Chapter Thirteen.
I am too old for the fidgets, Able Six told himself as he walked outdoors with his star pupils.
Meridee Bonfort had been gone too long-never mind that it was only four days. The first day of her absence, he had dutifully walked with his pupils after luncheon, breathing great lungfuls of healthy air, before they returned to the schoolroom for more geometry, followed by more Christmas angles, which the vicar himself requested.
"Your angles will decorate the church this year," Edmund Ripley had said. "I like them. More to the point, the Lord Almighty probably enjoys a bit of variety in Christian worship."
The following day had been less sanguine, to put it mildly. Able had followed the vicar"s instructions to the letter about finding holly and ivy, which he had already agreed to use to deck the church from vestibule to nave to sanctuary.
"Ordinarily, Mrs. Ripley and Meridee perform this office, but I fear my wife is not equal to the task of greening the church this year," Mr. Ripley said, by way of apology. The vicar could blush, too, even though Mrs. Ripley"s condition was precisely of his making, which made Able Six smile to himself.
The holly had been aggravating enough, making his hands bleed, but the larger issue of the ivy had ended his career in decorating before it even started.
The ivy was easy enough to find, even though Mr. Ripley"s directions were vague to the point of nonexistent. Able had turned the directions into an exercise involving angles and t.i.tled it "Treasure Map," which meant his pupils could barely wait to start.
To his pleasure, the boys quickly found great patches of ivy and called for him to hurry with his knife and basket. He had begun his attack on the ivy when the whole plan unraveled. His hands began to burn, then break out in welts and start to swell. He tried to fight through the pain, then gave it up for a bad business. The countryside had turned on him.
Gerald and James commiserated, but could barely control their delight to be permitted to use a real knife, something their parents wouldn"t have allowed, or so they told him. He supervised and did his best not to scratch.
The vicar had been properly appalled at the sight of his injury, but Mrs. Ripley seemed to find the matter amusing. She calmly slathered a pleasant-smelling, white ointment on his hands, all the while a.s.suring him that he would not die.
"You are not taking this seriously," Able accused her.
"I suppose I am not," she said, coating a few spots on his neck that were starting to itch, too. "How wondrous that a man can survive Camperdown, the Battle of Cape St. Vincent, the Battle of the Nile, subsequent incarceration in a French prison and escape from the same, be thrown ash.o.r.e to starve on half pay, and then succ.u.mb to ivy!" Her lips started to twitch, and she laughed.
What could a man do but laugh, too? "I suppose you will tell me that Meridee would laugh, too, were she here?" he asked, trying to sound indignant and failing.
His question dissolved Mrs. Ripley in more laughter, accompanied by the a.s.surance that Meridee would indeed see the humorous aspect of a well-trained, dignified, handsome man with welts, spots, and ointment. "She would howl," Mrs. Ripley a.s.sured him. "Probably slap her knee."
Mercifully, by the time he went to bed that night-oh, G.o.d above, how he missed his chaste conversations with Meridee on the stairs-the swelling had retreated and the pain was mostly gone. He lay there as the smile left his face, wondering how soon he could quit the countryside. Meridee deserved better than him. What was he thinking, proposing to someone like Meridee?
Next day, he wasn"t so certain he could ever leave. By noon, the redness was gone and he could bend his fingers again, so the vicar enlisted his help in distributing baskets of jams, jellies, and fancy bread to the worthy poor of his parish.
That was how Mr. Ripley had phrased it: the worthy poor. A man with a mind far livelier than most, Able asked what const.i.tuted the unworthy poor. When the vicar started to explain that women who birthed babies in the hedgerows might const.i.tute the unworthy poor, as well as poachers and wife beaters, he stopped, embarra.s.sed.
"Perhaps these people need help, too," Mr. Ripley said after a long moment of what must have been theological reflection.
You mean my mother, Able thought and felt no shame. Whatever events had brought Mary Whoever to his birth and her death in that alley behind St. George"s Church had resulted in a life Able Six knew was worth living.
"The poor are poor, and worth has nothing to do with it," Able said, perhaps more forcefully than he should have. "They have hopes and dreams, too. I know they do, because I am one of them."
Mr. Ripley had looked at him seriously, then did a strange thing, a thing that touched Able"s heart. He kissed the sailing master on his cheek. "I believe you are right, Master Six," he said. "I will not use that phrase anymore. After all, Christ was no respecter of persons, was He? Why should my church, my little vicarage so minuscule in the scheme of things, pretend otherwise?"
They distributed baskets at every hovel, regardless of worthiness, and returned home in remarkable agreement. A note to his patron requesting more funds to tend to the Christmas needs of all had gone out that evening to the lord of the manor, who controlled Mr. Ripley"s living.
"We may not succeed this year, Master Able, but we will try," Mr. Ripley had said.
Able slept poorly that night, as his nearly visceral longing for Meridee Bonfort showed no signs of abating. Tomorrow evening, there would be caroling, followed by wa.s.sail in the vicarage. Maybe Meridee would at least send a letter.
He tried to relax-truly he did-even as he wondered if such a quiet, self-effacing woman could find a way to help him navigate the shoals of disaster during this time of near-war and national emergency. Had he asked too much of such a lady?
He knew he alone could live in poverty on half pay until the war resumed, but he wanted more. He could not afford a wife, but he wanted Meridee Bonfort. He had no home for her, but he wanted her watching for him out of an upstairs window as he returned from the sea. He didn"t even have a bed for a wife, but he wanted one, and he wanted Meridee Six in it with him.
How had he gone from having nothing except a prodigious brain to wanting everything? When had the universe ever shifted in his favor? He sat up suddenly, resolved to quit this quiet country vicarage tomorrow. He had been well-fed and warm for several weeks. He had read most of the vicar"s books and contemplated Christmas, however briefly. If the Ripleys chose not to pay him for his highly enjoyable service to their sons, he would understand, because he had not stayed to complete his tenure. He had enough coins to eke out bare subsistence until he collected his next half-pay cheque.
He went to the landing and sat there in his smallclothes, supremely dissatisfied with himself. He never should have accepted Lieutenant Caldwell"s kind offer of employment, because now he hoped, where previously he had merely endured. If there was anything more treacherous than hope, he did not know what it was, and he knew everything.
No matter how distressed he was deep inside, in that intimate place where only Meridee had been allowed a glimpse, Able taught his pupils in the morning with his usual flair. He admired their ability with fractions, when only weeks ago they had quailed at the thought of mere multiplication tables. Even Gerald, the more timid brother, sat sprawled in his chair with a certain confidence he had earlier lacked.
Able would have fared better if people had not come and gone all day from the vicar"s study. Each ring of the doorbell set his nerves spinning. More than once, he casually leaned out of the schoolroom door, hoping against hope to see a lovely lady with striking blue eyes. Christmas was coming, and he began to understand the vicar"s added work as parishioners came and went.
Able nearly sent the boys on their own after-luncheon walk, except that the sun had finally broken through, and James reminded him of his promise to show them how to use a s.e.xtant. Well and good. He had promised, and he confessed to himself his own eagerness to take the beautiful instrument outside and shoot the sun. There was no danger he could forget how to use this complicated instrument, but he felt his heart rise to just hold the thing again.
In a landscape flat and featureless, Gerald found a small rise. Able put his eye to the telescope and settled his elbow into his side, the better to prevent-Ah, but wait, the ground did not pitch or yaw like a quarterdeck. He could stand there and hold his lovely s.e.xtant.
It didn"t take long to get lat.i.tudinal and longitudinal readings, do the math in his head, and determine precisely at what degree and minute they stood. Gerald and James were suitably impressed, then clamored for their own turns, which he happily supplied. They measured distance from a tree, then the height of the tree itself, until everyone was satisfied.
"We can do this at night, too," he a.s.sured them as they ambled home. "We can measure the lunar distance between the moon and, say, Orion"s belt."
"Do you ever get lost, Master Six?" James asked.
I am lost now, he thought. "No," he lied. "I can find anything."
Nearly anything, he decided after supper, as he prepared to accompany the vicar and his sons caroling. Mrs. Ripley had been kind enough to let him watch her play five carols on the pianoforte that afternoon. He memorized the simple tunes immediately, but shook his head when she stood up and indicated that he play them. He knew he could because he had observed her, but the fun was gone.
They left the vicarage after dark in a disorganized gaggle of young parishioners and a few doughty older ones who provided the leaven of excellent voices to complement the enthusiasm of young singers. Mrs. Ripley waved to them from the door. The entire household had been tantalized all afternoon with the fragrance of wa.s.sail and Christmas treats. When they returned, Able knew he would enjoy the treats as much as the young ones because it was all new to him, this Christmas business.
First stop was the manor at the edge of Pomfrey belonging to the vicar"s patron, Lord Peter Randolph, Earl of Pomfrey. They sang, and the bolder children who had been given the keeping of the alms basket stepped forward.
The earl did not disappoint, tossing in a number of coins and stepping back so his footman could hand out warm pasties. When Lord Randolph nodded good night to them all and the butler closed the door, the children gathered around the alms basket with oohs and ahhs, as their parents looked on indulgently.
They traveled through Pomfrey, singing and collecting more alms for the poor, worthy or otherwise, and eating whatever their listeners chose to provide. Pomfrey was only a middling prosperous village, but the people knew how to keep up appearances. Master Able Six fell farther and farther back because he wanted to watch the children with their parents.
None of you have any idea how lucky you are, he thought. He would leave tomorrow before Meridee Bonfort returned. She deserved more than he could ever provide her.
Finally, he stood still on the path, unwilling to take another step. To his surprise, it began to snow. To his greater surprise, someone who must have crept up quietly put her arm through his. He started, then felt his entire body relax, because Meridee Bonfort had returned.
He stared at her, wondering how she had got to Pomfrey. Hadn"t Mrs. Ripley told her to take a room in Plymouth and send a note the next day so they could fetch her? Why was she here?
He wanted to ask all those questions, but she was standing on tiptoe now, her hands already cupping each side of his face, reminding him that he hadn"t bothered to shave this morning.
"You know your beard is too heavy to skip a morning shave," she scolded in her gentle way. "You need a keeper, and I am she."
He grabbed her up and kissed her, even though he had promised himself fifteen seconds ago that he would be gone by morning. She kissed him back, making small noises in her throat. Or maybe he was doing that; he couldn"t tell. He couldn"t even decide whose heart was beating louder.
He set her down for a moment, and it was his turn to take her face in his hands. "Was it a fool"s errand?" he asked.
"No, Master Six, it was not," she said, turning her face toward one of his palms to kiss it, and then the other. "I did not go to fail."
"What . . . what . . . ?" He didn"t even know what to ask her.
"You will be teaching boys from the age of six to sixteen all manner of arithmetic, geometry, and something called calculus at St. Brendan"s School right in Portsmouth," she said, then rested her head against his chest. "I gave Captain Hallowell a black eye and . . ."
He grabbed her shoulders. "You did what?"
"He trod on my last and final nerve," she said with considerable dignity. Able saw how tired she was, and it touched his heart. "I"ll tell you later. I went to St. Brendan"s with him."
The woman of his heart gave him a kind and patient look. "You were wrong, though. St. Brendan"s has nothing to do with Trinity House."
"I was wrong?" he asked, wondering if he heard her right.
"Completely," she replied. "St. Brendan"s is . . ."
He swung her around, his heart overflowing with relief so unexpected he could barely contain himself. "I was wrong!" He set her down and stared into her astounded face. "Don"t you see? I was wrong! Meri, maybe I"m a little bit normal, too!"
Her expression changed to one of surpa.s.sing compa.s.sion as tears welled in her eyes. She put her arms around his neck and pulled him close. "Maybe you are, my love," she whispered. "Even you can make a mistake or two."
He held her close in vast relief. Loving Meridee Bonfort was still the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to him. Coupled with the reality that even he could get something wrong now and then set his crowded brain at ease, not to mention his heart.
His practical almost-wife took him in hand. "All this mooning is well and good, Master Six, but you must hurry back to the vicarage with me. I promised I wouldn"t keep Captain Hallowell waiting."
"Great merciful saints above, he is here?"
"Captain and Mistress Hallowell are sitting in the parlor with my sister as we speak."
She tried to put him into motion by tugging on his hand, but he held firm. "Tell me what you know first. St. Brendan"s?"
She looked around as if the woods held French spies and moved closer until she was inside his boat cloak with him, which didn"t upset him in the least. "St. Brendan"s is a new school, rather a secret, established only three years ago by the Royal Navy. The idea is to train young men and boys for sea service."
"They already do that at sea as Young Gentleman and then midshipmen," he said, still mystified.
"And when did an orphan lad or a boy from the docks ever become a midshipman?" she asked, still whispering to throw off any spies. "No, Master Six, these are dockside lads willing to learn navigation and other skills before they go to sea, to serve as you do now, as warranted officers someday, if they are good enough."
"My word," he said in amazement and started walking at a fast clip, dragging Meridee with him.
"Slow down! That"s better," she replied, hurrying to keep up. "It stands to reason, Able. Someone high up in the government-no idea who-decided to fund such a venture. At least, that"s what St. Brendan"s master told me."
He stopped again. "You spoke to the master?" he asked.
Meridee nodded. He saw the pride on her face. "I was frightened to death, but I told them how well-suited you were for such a task. I even looked Sir Horatio Nelson in the eye and said yes, you were a remarkable sailing master, but only one man, and wouldn"t the navy benefit by that one man teaching mathematics to a whole generation of sailing masters?" She lowered her gaze modestly. "He agreed."