said, grinning.
“When was this?”
“When I was fourteen. On a school trip to Berwick Castle. My mates and I were roughhousing and then a real scuffle broke out. I don’t even remember what brought it on. All I know is that this boy named Billy Barnes shoved me with all his might, and I went crashing down onto the stone walkway. I hit my head pretty hard. Had to be taken to A&E. My mum was frantic.”
“Did you lose your memory?” Quinn asked, surprised she’d never heard the story before.
“No, but I remember feeling stunned. I wanted to call out, but my mouth just wouldn’t cooperate. I couldn’t make a sound. And there was this weird silence. I could see people looking down at me, could see the teacher’s mouth opening and closing, but it was as if the sound had been muted.”
“How long did it take for that to pass?”
“By the time the ambulance arrived, my hearing had begun to come back, but it took me about an hour to finally say something. My parents were terrified I’d sustained permanent brain damage.”
“What happened to Billy Barnes?”
Gabe’s satisfied smile said it all. “He got grounded for a month. No TV, no hanging out with his mates, no football practice. He blamed me, of course. We never made it up, Billy and I. Kept our distance from each other until I left for uni.”
“Well, we don’t know how hard Alice was hit, or with what. And she came near to drowning. That might play a role, as well. She’s fighting hard to recall any small detail she can, though, I can tell you that.”
“I suppose we’ll just have to let her story play out and see what develops,” Gabe said.
Quinn chuckled. “And so we should. If only Rhys didn’t ask for hourly updates.”
“Sod Rhys,” Gabe said with a grin. “He’ll just have to wait. He’s getting awfully territorial over this skelly. You’d think he was the one who buried him.”
“He’s just worried about Katya.”
“Do you really think that learning what happened to this person will put Katya’s mind at rest?”
“Probably not.”
“I am looking forward to hearing more of what happened,” Gabe said eagerly.
“Give the children a bath, and I’ll have the next installment for you by the time they’re asleep,” Quinn offered, grinning at him.
“You’re on!”
Chapter 17
October 1777
Long Island
Alice had barely enough time to grab for the chamber pot before her stomach emptied itself. It had been more than a week since the shipwreck, but she still felt unwell, her head aching and her body sore and strangely unfamiliar. She tended to feel better toward the evening, but her head injury made itself known in the morning, after she’d been lying down during the night, unwittingly putting pressure on the still-fresh bruise. Despite the bouts of sickness that came several times a day, she felt hungry and secretly relished Hannah’s attempts to feed her up. She wasn’t terribly thin, but her pallor and weakened state were enough to convince Hannah that all would be well if Alice would only eat.
Putting on her own gown over Hannah’s spare chemise, Alice gingerly brushed her hair and plaited it loosely, so as not to pull on the skin at the back of her head, then made her bed and presented herself downstairs. She was surprised to find a visitor waiting in the parlor. He was enjoying a cup of tea and one of Hannah’s corn muffins.
“Alice, this is Lieutenant Reynolds,” Hannah said. “He’d like a word.”
Hannah patted Alice’s arm reassuringly but did not follow her into the parlor, returning to the kitchen instead to allow them to speak privately. Alice wished Ben or Derek were there, but they must have already eaten and left, given that only Josh’s piping voice could be heard coming from the kitchen.
“Good morning,” Alice said. She felt a flutter of nervousness as she stood across from the man. What did a British officer want with her?
The man brushed crumbs off his hands and stood, bowing to her politely. He would have cut a fine figure in his red tunic and white breeches if only someone had thought to place a bucket over his head. His dark eyes bulged like those of a bullfrog, and he had pockmarked skin, a souvenir of some adolescent illness, no doubt, probably smallpox. His long, thin nose formed an almost perfect triangle if viewed from the side. He also seemed nervous in her presence, which made Alice feel marginally less afraid.
“Mistress…eh, well, Alice,” he began,