His little son left the blocks and climbed into Meri’s lap. She cuddled him close, her eyes full of worry.
“I imagine Admiralty was astounded at your information,” Able managed to say.
“I doubt they would have believed a word if Captain Rose of Trinity House hadn’t been beside me,” Jean said candidly. “They sent a fast corvette after Admiral Nelson. Lord Barham is making plans for the blockade on the French coastline to draw back closer to the Dover Straits, you Englishmen’s most vulnerable spot.”
“Lord Barham? I thought there was no First Lord right now,” Able said. “You know more than I do.”
“A rare occurrence, I have no doubt,” Jean said dryly. “Lord Barham – I believe he was Sir Charles Middleton – has the unenviable task of rounding up all ships at sea, and forestalling an invasion.”
Able glanced at Meri, and saw her hand at her throat. “No fears, my love. You’re safe.”
She didn’t answer.
“We always knew it could happen,” he reminded her. She nodded.
“Napoleon thinks to land troops, with Nelson far away in the Caribbean,” Able said to Jean. “I have no doubt I will receive official papers soon,” Able said, after a glance at his wife.
“Sooner than you know,” Jean said softly. He clapped his hands on his thighs and stood up again, as if sitting was too tame after such revelations. “And here I am, but not to stay.”
“Oh, but…” Meri began.
“I believe I will escape again to France.”
“Of your own free will and choice?” Able asked, knowing the answer and already missing Jean Hubert’s casual association.
“Who of us does not dance to Napoleon’s tune?” the Frenchman asked. “It appears that Trinity House has turned me into a spy.”
“Any regrets? I know you love La Belle France,” Able said.
“My, er, recent spontaneous holiday in France showed me a nation I do not know,” he said simply. “I will cast my lot with England, at least until sanity returns to my native land.” He shook his head. “If it ever does.”
“I thank you,” Able said.
Jean kissed Meri’s cheek. “Perhaps when this war is over, I will show up and ask to teach here again.” He took an envelope from inside his coat. “Here it is. Headmaster gave me this for you. It was delivered to him this evening during dinner.”
Able knew what it was. He didn’t want to touch the thing, but Jean held it out and he had no choice. Able noted the letterhead, the simple but all-powerful word: Admiralty.
“It begins,” he said to no one in particular. He looked at his wife who took it from his hand, slit it open using a knitting needle, and handed it back, her face so calm. What could he do but pull out the letter and read it?
“’You are hereby requested and required to return to the Fleet,’” he read, wondering if his half-hearted attempt at a neutral voice betrayed his utter dislike of leaving his wife and students. “That is succinct enough,” he said, trying to joke.
“Read it all,” Meri said.
He did in a blink and smiled, thinking that Sir B still attended to his career. “It seems that Captain Sir Belvedere St. Anthony continues to grease my skids, Meri,” he said when he could speak. “This could be worse.” She was standing beside him now, leaning against his shoulder, right where he wanted her. “Look here. They could have told me to report with all possible speed to a designated frigate or ship of the line.” He pointed further down the page. “It looks like Smitty and I are to be given that assignment to the Jolly Roger, just as Sir B wanted in his will. We’re off for Admiralty House ourselves, my love.”
He read down the page slowly like normal folk, savoring his new duty, because somewhere in his heart, despite the pleasure of home and school, the sea still beckoned. “We are to report to Admiralty as soon as possible, accompanied by Captain Rose, warden of Trinity House, for our assignment.”
Meridee leaned harder and he touched her hand on his shoulder. “This is far better than being sent to blockade duty, or on a prisoner convoy to New South Wales.”
“It’s even less safe,” she said. Able knew her tears would come later.
“Time will tell.”
“Adieu to you both,” Jean said. “God knows when or how we will meet again, but I have faith in that, if in little else.”
Chapter Nine
All possible speed was the next day after luncheon, spurred on by Headmaster Croker. Over their breakfast