her entire body. Hers was a statement of fact; they were a common lot. Laura felt another layer of self-deceit slide away.
“Common we are.” She removed her hand. “I think you should lie down now.”
If Laura expected mutiny, she got none.
“I agree. The Brittles and I already had luncheon. I expect you haven’t, unless travel has suddenly become much more convenient.”
“You know it hasn’t,” Laura said with a laugh. “Direct me to your housekeeper, and I will …” She went to the window. “My stars, I forgot about the chaise.”
Nana was already settling herself on the sofa, her hand tucked against her belly. “Send them away, Laura.”
“I don’t want to inconvenience you …” Laura began.
“I’ll be more inconvenienced if you leave.” She gave Laura a look that was as calculating as it was a bluff. “Ladies in waiting are to be humored. Lt. Brittle told me so.”
“He did no such thing,” Laura teased. “He looks far too practical for that.”
“All the Brittles are practical,” Nana said, perfectly complacent to be found out and corrected. “Do you have pressing business in Taunton demanding your immediate attention?”
She said it so gently that Laura felt the tears start in her eyes again. Since Sir James’s death, there had been not one demand on her time. If she showed up next week in Taunton or never again, no one would really care, except the servants she supported.
“I have no business anywhere. I didn’t bring many clothes, though.”
Nana sighed when Laura covered her with a light throw. When she replied, her voice was already drowsy. “In the bookroom, Mrs. Trelease will show you, there are paper, pens and ink. Write a note to your staff, tell them to collect more clothing, and hand the note to Joey Trelease. He’s a scamp but he loves to post letters quayside. Heaven knows he’s posted enough of mine.”
Laura hesitated, and Nana narrowed her eyes. “I am she who commands.”
“You and who else?” Laura teased. It was the mildest of banter, but she almost shivered with the pleasure of sharing it with a sister.
Nana yawned. “If Oliver were here, you would snap to. He would say, ‘Lively, now, madam,’ and the earth would tremble.”
She began to cry, and there was no subterfuge anywhere, just the raw edge of a wife who has heard her man was in danger, even if safe now. Laura dropped to her knees by the sofa and put her cheek against her sister’s.
“Whatever my failings—don’t stop me, I have many—I am an excellent guest, and possibly even more of a tyrannical big sister than you ever imagined.”
Or than I ever imagined, Laura thought, as she shushed Nana, kissed her and sat on the floor by the
sofa until her little sister slept. When Nana was breathing evenly, Laura went outside, paid the coachman and dismissed him.
Luncheon was Cornish pasties so crisp and brown that she salivated as Mrs. Trelease served them. After a leisurely cup of tea in the breakfast room—windows open, seagulls noisy—Laura went upstairs to find her few dresses already on pegs in the dressing room and her brush and comb lined up on the bureau.
Before she went downstairs to find the book room, she walked quietly down the hall, past what must be Nana and the captain’s room. She saw the boat cloak thrown across the foot of the bed. I wonder if Nana wraps herself in it at night, she asked herself. What must it be like to love a man so often gone?
The next chamber was the future nursery. Already there was an armchair there with padded armrests, pulled close to the open window and the view of the bay. She went to the window, watching the ships swinging on their anchors. At this distance, the smaller boats darting to and from them looked like water bugs.
There was a cradle, too, one that looked old and well-used. Something told her, how, she did not know, that it must have come from the Brittles’ house, which must be the pale yellow one next door and a little lower down the hill.
As she stood there, she noticed Lt. Brittle standing on the side lawn, looking out to sea, hands in his pockets. He must have felt her scrutiny, because he turned slightly, then waved to her.
She waved back, knowing Miss Pym would be shocked at such brazen behavior, but not caring in the least. She couldn’t keep staring at him, so she looked out to sea again, content to watch the boats come and go. When she glanced at the side lawn again, he was walking inside his mother’s house, whistling. The sound made her smile.
Lt. Brittle came to the house again that night after dinner was long over, and Nana was starting to yawn in the middle of sentences. She looked up when the surgeon came into the room.
“Is there a cure for sleepiness?”
“Most certainly,” he told her. “In your case, give it about five months. Of course, then you’ll be tired because of two o’clock feedings. You’re a no-hoper.”
How is it he knows just the right tone to strike with my sister? Laura asked herself, as she listened to their delightful banter. I am in the presence of an artist.
It was a beguiling thought. Nana, who had been reclining on the sofa, tried to sit up, but the lieutenant shook his head and she stayed where she was. To Laura’s surprise, he sat on the floor right by her sister, tucking the throw a little higher on her shoulders against the cool evening breeze blowing in from the Channel.
His eyes on Nana’s face, he took a note from his uniform jacket and opened it. Laura noticed the suddenly alert look on Nana’s face. Nana took hold of the surgeon’s hand as he tried to unfold the note, stopping him.
“It’s all right, Nana, it’s all right,” he said, his voice soothing. “It came to me about an hour ago from Captain Worthy himself. Hey, now. He wanted you to know he’ll be here tomorrow, but he also wants you to be prepared.”
Laura found herself on the floor by the sofa, too, her arm around her sister in a protective gesture she never would have imagined herself capable of, only that morning in Plymouth.
“He sustained an injury to his ear,” the surgeon said. “Read it yourself.”
Nana snatched the letter from his hand, her eyes devouring the words. She took a deep breath when she finished. “Listen, Laura: ‘My love, I am not precisely symmetrical now, but I trust you will still adore me.’ Oh, Phil! What else did he write to you in the other note you are not showing me?”
“You know your man pretty well, don’t you?”
“Beyond degree. Confess.”
“It was a splinter.” The surgeon shook his head at Laura’s expression. “Not those aggravating ones you get under your fingernail. This is when pieces of the railing and masts go in all directions during bombardment.” He looked at Nana again. “From his description, I think he lost his earlobe and maybe part of that outer rim. Could be worse. If you want, I can look at it before I leave for Stonehouse tomorrow.”
“You know I want that,” Nana replied.
