the blockade off France and Spain to Admiralty and the Navy Board.” He smiled at the words. “’Trust me, she is fast.’”
He looked at Smitty this time, and then Able. “This part concerns you two.” Smitty leaned forward. Gone was his usual veiled expression, replaced by an unmatched intensity. “’What better way to train lads for the fleet than to serve such a duty? Able Six will command, if he is recalled to the fleet, and Smitty will serve as sailing master.’”
Everyone in the room seemed to exhale at the same time. Sir Charles held up a warning hand and looked closer. “Let me continue. ‘Be persuasive, you Gunwharf Rats, in convincing the starched shirts at Admiralty that I have not lost my wits entirely. I suggest you take it up with Billy Pitt.’” Amid quiet laughter, Sir Charles set down the will and his expression grew serious. “He finished this way, Master Six: ‘Would that I could sail with you both. Your friend, Sir B.’”
There was nothing more to say, beyond the usual legalese that no one remembers except scribes and sticklers. “In coming weeks, we will handle all the finalizing of property and assigning of monetary bequeaths. In due time, you will hear from my firm,” Sir Charles said.
There was one more matter, one that Sir Charles remembered when he folded the documents into his briefcase and a letter floated down.
He picked up the letter and handed it to Smitty. “Bless me if I hadn’t forgotten precisely why else you were supposed to be here, my lad. This is my reminder. If you have any questions, let me know.” He put a hand on Smitty’s shoulder. “He wanted to tell you in person, but possibly for the first time in his life, words failed Sir B. Good day, all.” He and the solicitor left the room.
Meridee watched Smitty’s face, noting uncertainty for nearly the first time since she had known him. A quiet lad, but one of capable, sometimes fierce, mien that complimented his impressive build, he was seldom jostled or bothered. She sat beside him again. He looked up at her and she wondered if he did not want her close by.
“Would you rather I did not intrude upon this moment?” she asked quietly.
“Stay here, mam, if you please,” he said. “I’ve never received a letter. How do I open it?” He handed it to her.
Yes, who would ever write to Smitty, a workhouse boy? she thought with sympathy. Meridee took out a hairpin from the chignon at the nape of her neck and slid it along the crease. She smiled to see Sir B’s handwriting, remembering little notes from him when he was too ill to leave his house, but still eager to encourage and tease a bit. “He wrote this when he was feeling good, I think,” she told Smitty.
“He didn’t know me, mam,” Smitty said.
I believe he knew you better than you think, she told herself. “Perhaps he did,” she said. “Read it and find out.”
She looked away while he read, unwilling to intrude. She heard him gasp, then lean against her, something he never did, unlike her other St. Brendan boys. She saw devastation on his face, and put her arm around him.
He held out the letter to her. “You read it, mam,” he told her.
She read it to herself, amazed, understanding Smitty’s resemblance to Sir B.
She handed it back to Smitty, who started reading out loud, as if to make it real. “’My brother was a worthless vagabond and spendthrift,’” Smitty read. She heard all the amazement, and then a cold sort of anger, the kind that festered. “’On his deathbed three years ago, he admitted to me that he had fathered a child. He had taken you, his son, Edward St. Anthony, to a workhouse at the age of six, when your mother died.’”
“Do you remember this?” Meridee asked, hoping for a little amnesia. She didn’t want to imagine a boy, his mother dead, taken to the workhouse by his father and left there alone. She glanced at Able and saw all the horror on his face.
“Aye, mam, I remember all of it,” Smitty said, and he sounded grim. “I was there almost seven years.” He dropped the letter.
Able picked it up and continued reading. “’God forgive me, but I didn’t know what to do. Smitty, if you are reading this now, I confess I should have taken you into my household three years ago when I learned this. I was