BEYOND THE REEF

7. CONSCIENCE

THE TWO RIDERS came to a halt by a low wall and once again faced the sea which reached away from the foot of the cliffs. They could have been brother and sister. They might have been lovers. The sun blazed down on them from a cloudless sky and the air was filled with the sound of insects, and the ever-present gulls on the ledges far below them.

Adam Bolitho climbed down from his horse and said, "It's not safe to ride any further." He held up his hands and slipped them around her small waist to assist her to dismount.

A girl with misty brown eyes, her hair loose in the warm inshore wind, her companion without any sort of uniform, wearing only a shirt and seagoing white breeches tucked into his boots.

"Here, Zenoria, take my hand." He felt hers in his grasp and tightened his grip without realising it. Together they scrambled and slithered down the wind-ruffled grass until they reached a long flat rock, from which they could look directly down to a small cove. The sound of the sea seemed to embrace them as it hissed through the scattered fragments of fallen cliff to sigh against the small crescent of sand.

They sat on the warm stone side by side. He said, "It is good to be back."

"Can you tell me what happened? You did not leave me much time to get ready!" She held her hair from her face and studied him: the young man who resembled his uncle so much it was uncanny.

Adam pulled a long strand of grass through his teeth. It tasted of salt. "We were chasing a schooner off Lundy Island. The weather was brisk." He smiled at some memory, so that he looked like a young boy again. "Maybe I was too eager. Anyway we sprung the fore-topmast and I decided to come to Falmouth for repair. It is better than languishing for weeks in some Royal dockyard, in line behind all the senior captains and the admiral's favourites!"

She looked at his dark profile, the Bolitho hair and cheekbones. As the spring had given way to summer she had hoped he might call on her, as he had twice before. They rode and walked; they talked, but rarely about one another.

"May I ask you something?"

He rolled on his hip, his face propped in his hand. "You can ask me anything."

"How old are you, Adam?"

He looked serious. "Twenty-eight." He could not keep up the pretence. "As of today!"

"Oh, Adam, why did you not say?" She leaned over and kissed his cheek very lightly. "For your birthday." She put her head on one side. "You don't look very much like a captain."

He reached out and took her hand in his. "And you don't look very much like someone who's married."

He released her as she stood up and walked nearer to the edge.

"If I have offended you, I can only beg forgiveness."

She turned, her back to the sea. "You do not offend me, Adam, you of all people. But I am married as you say-it is as well to be reminded."

She sat down again, and wrapped her arms around her legs and her long riding skirt.

"Tell me about your father. He was a sailor too?"

He nodded, his eyes very distant. "Sometimes I think I am very like him, as he must have been. Too easily hurt, too quick to consider consequences. My father was a gambler… much of the estate was sold to pay his debts. He fought on the other side during the American Revolution, but he did not die as everyone thought. He lived long enough to learn he had a son, and to save my life. One day I shall tell you the whole story, Zenoria. But not now… not today. My heart is too full."

He stared out to sea and asked abruptly, "Are you truly happy with Captain Keen? This in return for asking me a question, eh?"

She said gravely, "He has done everything for me. He loves me so much it frightens me. Perhaps I am different from other women… at times I begin to believe that is so. And I am quietly going mad because of it. I have tried so hard to understand…" She broke off as he took her hand again, very gently this time, and covered it with his like someone holding an injured bird.

"He is older than you, Zenoria. His life has always been the navy, as mine will be, if I live long enough." He watched her hand in his, so brown in the sunlight, and was not aware of the sudden anguish in her dark eyes. "But he will return, and if I am right, he will hoist his own flag as an admiral." He squeezed her fingers and smiled sadly. "It will be another change for you. The admiral's lady. And there is no captain who deserves it more. I learned so much from him, but…"

She watched him steadily. "But-I have come between you both?"

"I will not lie, not to you, Zenoria. I cannot bear to see you together."

She took her hand away very carefully. "You had better stop, Adam. You know how much I enjoy your company. Anything more is a delusion." She watched her words bring more emotions to his face. "It has to be. If anyone discovered…"

He said, "I have told nobody. I may be a fool, but I am an honourable fool."

He stood up and helped her to her feet. "Now you will dread the next time Anemone drops her anchor in Carrick Road."

For a long moment they stood facing each other, their fingertips still touching.

"Just promise me something, Zenoria."

"If I can."

He held her hands more tightly and said, "If you need me, for any reason at all, please tell me. When I am able I shall come to you, and God help any man who ever speaks ill of you!"

As they mounted the grassy slope and climbed through the old wall, so that the sounds of the sea amongst the rocks below became muffled and then lost, she saw his sword hanging from his saddle.

"You must never fight on my behalf, Adam. If anything happened to you because of me, I don't know what I would do."

"Thank you. For saying that and so much more."

She twisted round in his arms when he made to lift her to the stirrup. "There can be no more!" Her eyes widened with sudden alarm as he tightened his hold around her. "Please Adam, don't hurt me!"

He looked into her face, understanding, and suddenly full of pity. For them both.

"I would never hurt you." He put his mouth to hers. "For my birthday, if for no other reason."

He felt her lips part, the sudden beat of her heart against his body, and the pain of his need for this strange girl was unbearable. Then he released her very carefully, expecting her to strike him.

Instead she said quietly, "You must not do that again." When she lifted her head her eyes were wet with tears. "I shall never forget."

She allowed him to raise her to the stirrup and watched as he walked back to the wall, still overcome with disbelief at what she had just permitted.

He stooped and picked several sprays of wild roses from where they tumbled over the wall, and wrapped them carefully in a clean handkerchief before bringing them to her stirrup.

"I am not proud to admit it, Zenoria. But I would take you from any man, if I could." He handed her the roses and studied her as she lowered her face to them, her hair blowing in the wind like a dark banner.

She did not look at him. She knew she could not, dared not. And when she tried to find security from the foul memories of what she had once endured, there was nothing. For the first time in her life she had felt herself respond to a man's embrace, and she was stunned by what might have happened if he had persisted.

They rode on to the old coaching track in silence. Once he reached between them to take her hand, but nothing was said. Perhaps there were no words. When a small carriage approached they reined in to let it pass, but the coachman pulled the horses to a halt and a woman looked out of the window. A gaunt hostile face, whom Adam recognised as his uncle's sister.

"Well, well, Adam, I didn't know you were back again." She stared coldly at the girl in the rough riding skirt and loose white blouse. "Do I know this lady?"

Adam said calmly, "Mrs Keen. We have been taking the air." He was angry: with her for her arrogance; with himself for troubling to explain anything to her. Never once had she treated him as a nephew. A bastard in the family? It could not be accepted.

The cold eyes moved over Zenoria's body, missing nothing. The flushed cheeks, the grass on the skirt and riding boots. "I thought Captain Keen was away."

Adam calmed his horse with one hand. Then he asked evenly, "And what of your son, Miles? I understand he is no longer serving the King." He saw the shot go home and added, "You can send him to my ship if you wish, Ma'am. I am not my uncle-I'd soon teach him some manners!"

The carriage jerked forward in a cloud of sand and dust and Adam said, "I cannot believe she is of the same blood, damn her eyes!"

Later, as Zenoria stood in the garden, in the same place from which she had watched her husband depart some seven weeks ago, she could feel her heart beating wildly. If only Catherine were here. If only she could tear her mind from the thoughts which still pursued her.

She heard his step on the path and turned to watch him, now changed again into his uniform and even his unruly hair tidied, his gold-laced hat jammed beneath one arm.

She said, "The Captain once more!"

He seemed about to come towards her, but checked himself. "May I call again before we sail?" There was anxiety in his eyes. "Please do not deny me that."

She raised her hand, as if she were waving to someone a long way off.

"It is your home, Adam. I am the intruder."

He glanced at the house like a guilty youth. Then he touched his breast. "You intrude only here, in my heart." He turned and walked from the garden.

Ferguson, who had seen them from an upstairs window, let out a deep sigh. The nagging thought still persisted. They looked so right with each other.

Admiral the Lord Godschale shook the small bell on his table and tugged impatiently at his neckcloth.

"God damn it, it is so hot in this place I wonder I do not fade away!"

Sir Paul Sillitoe sipped a tall glass of hock and wondered how they managed to keep it so cool here in the Admiralty.

The door swung noiselessly inwards and one of the admiral's clerks peered at them.

"Open these windows, Chivers!" He poured some more wine and said, "Better to have the stench of horse dung and be deafened by all the traffic than sweat like a pig!"

Sillitoe gave a small smile. "As we were saying, my lord…"

"Ah yes. The readiness of the fleet. With the extra vessels taken from the Danes, and the return of others from Cape Town, we shall be as prepared as anyone can expect. The yards are working as hard as they can-there is hardly a decent oak left in the whole of Kent apparently!"

Sillitoe nodded, his hooded eyes revealing nothing. In his mind he saw some great chart: the responsibilities entrusted into his care by the government. His Majesty the King was becoming so irrational these days that Sillitoe seemed to be the only adviser he would listen to.

Where was the Golden Plover now, he wondered? How long before Bolitho and his mistress were back in England? He often thought of his visit to her. The nearness of her, her beautiful throat and high cheekbones. A glance that could burn you.

"There is another matter, my lord." He saw Godschale's instant guard. "I am given to understand that RearAdmiral Herrick is still without employment. He was to go to the West Indies, I believe?"

Sillitoe was a man who made even the admiral feel insecure. A cold fish, he thought; one without pity, who stood quite alone.

Godschale muttered, "He is coming here today." He glanced at the clock. "Soon, in fact."

Sillitoe smiled. "I know."

It was also infuriating how he seemed to know everything that happened within the barricades of admiralty.

"He asked for an interview." He stared at Sillitoe's impassive features. "Do you wish to be here when he comes?"

Sillitoe shrugged. "I do not care very much either way. However, His Majesty's ministers have stressed the vital importance of complete confidence in the fleet. An admiral who loses in a fight is soon forgotten. But continued interference by that admiral might be seen as irrational. Some might term it dangerous."

Godschale mopped his florid face. "God damn it, Sir Paul, I still don't understand what happened at the court martial. If you ask me, somebody made a fine mess of things. We must be strong and seen to be strong at all times. That was why I selected Sir James Hamett-Parker as president. No nonsense about that one, what?"

Sillitoe looked at the clock, too. "It might have been better to send Herrick to Cape Town instead of Sir Richard Bolitho," and, briefly, he showed a rare excitement. "By God, he'll be in his element when we invade the Peninsula."

Godschale was still pondering on Herrick. "Send him to Cape Town? God, he'd probably give it back to the Dutch!"

The door opened and another clerk said in a hushed tone, "RearAdmiral Thomas Herrick has arrived, m'lord."

Godschale snorted. "About time. Send him along from the waiting-room."

He walked heavily to the window and looked across the busy road to where a dainty, unmarked carriage was waiting beneath the trees, the horses nodding in the dusty sunshine.

Sillitoe remarked, "I thought you always made them kick their heels a while before allowing them to see you."

The admiral said over his shoulder, "I have other business to attend to."

Sillitoe's hawkish features were quite empty of expression. He knew about the "other business;" he had already seen her waiting in the unmarked carriage. Doubtless some officer's wife, looking for excitement without scandal. As a bonus, her absent husband might find himself in some better appointment. Sillitoe was surprised that Godschale's dull wife had not heard about his affairs. Everyone else seemed to know.

Herrick entered the room, and glared at Sillitoe with obvious surprise. "I beg your pardon. I did not realise I was too soon."

Sillitoe smiled. "Pray forgive me. Unless you have any objection…?"

Herrick, realising there was no choice, said abruptly, "In that case," and stood in silence, waiting.

Godschale led on smoothly, "Please be seated. Some hock perhaps?"

"No thank you, m'lord. I am here to discover satisfaction on the matter of my next appointment."

Godschale sat down opposite him. He saw the strain, the deep shadows under Herrick's eyes, the bitterness he had already displayed at the court martial.

"Sometimes it takes longer than usual. Even for flag officers, the powers in the land!" But Herrick showed no reaction and Godschale's own patience was fast running out. But more than anything, he thought, matters must remain within his grip and control. That was how he had risen to his lofty position, and how he intended to hold on to it.

Herrick leaned forward, his eyes flashing angrily. "If it is because of the court martial, then I demand…"

"Demand, Admiral Herrick?" Sillitoe's incisive voice cut the sultry air like a rapier. "You had a fair trial, in spite of a lack of reliable witnesses, and your own misguided insistence upon refusing any offer of defence, and circumstances, I believe, were very much against you. Yet still you were found not guilty? I hardly think you are in a position to demand anything!"

Herrick was on his feet. "I do not have to put up with your comments, sir!"

Godschale interrupted, "I am afraid you do. Even I bow to his authority," hating the admission which he knew to be true.

Herrick said, "Then I shall take my leave, my lord." He turned and added, "I have my pride."

Sillitoe said calmly, "Do sit down. We are not enemies-yet. And please do not mistake conceit for pride, for that is what you have." He inclined his head with approval as Herrick sat down. "That is better. I was at the court martial. I heard the evidence, and I saw what you were trying to do. To have yourself condemned, to absolve yourself of the tragedy-for that was what it was."

Godschale closed the windows: someone might hear Sillitoe's words. He returned angrily to the table. The little carriage had gone.

"I was prepared for whatever verdict they might present."

Sillitoe stared at him pitilessly. "You hold the rank of rearadmiral."

"I earned it many times, sir!"

"Not without the backing of your captain, who became your admiral, eh?"

"Some." Herrick was watching like a terrier facing a bull.

"A great deal, as I see it. But you are still only a rearadmiral. You do not have any private means of your own?"

Herrick relaxed a little. This was familiar ground. "That is true. I have never had things given to me, no family tradition to support me."

Gosdchale said unhappily, "I think what Sir Paul is trying to say…" He fell silent as Sillitoe's eyes flashed towards him.

"Hear me, if you please. Article Seventeen clearly states that if found guilty, you would not only have faced the very real peril of execution but more to the point, you would have been, in addition, responsible for reparation to all the ship-owners, merchants and others involved with the convoy. On a rearadmiral's pay-" His voice was suddenly laced with contempt. "What sum would you have been able to afford? Twenty ships, I believe? Fully laden with supplies of war, and the men to wage it? How much could you offer to placate all those who would condemn you?" When Herrick said nothing he added, "Perhaps enough to pay for the horses that died that day." He got up lightly and crossed to Herrick's seated figure. "To hang you would have been a stupid gesture of revenge, useless and without value. But the total bill for that whole convoy would have been laid here, at the doors of admiralty."

Godschale exclaimed thickly. "My God! I had not considered that!"

Sillitoe eyed him. The glance said, No, obviously not.

Then he waited for Herrick's attention and said in his silky voice, "So you see, sir, you had to be found not guilty. It was… more convenient."

Herrick's hands opened and closed as if he were grappling with something physical.

"But the court would not do that!"

"You turned upon Sir Richard Bolitho, the one man who could have saved your neck. If you had allowed him…"

Herrick stared at him, his face pale with disbelief. "I never needed his help!"

The door opened and Godschale shouted, "What the bloody hell do you want? Can't you see we're busy?"

The grim-faced secretary was unmoved by his master's rage. He said, "This has just been received by telegraph from Portsmouth, my lord. I think you should see it."

Godschale read through the note, and said after a silence, "Of all the damnable things to happen." He handed it to Sillitoe. "See for yourself."

Sillitoe felt their scrutiny, Herrick staring without comprehension. Then he looked at the admiral, who gave a despairing nod. He passed the note to Herrick.

Sillitoe said coldly, "Well, you have nothing more to fear. You will have no more help from that quarter." And he strode out of the room as if escaping from some contagion.

When Herrick finally put the note on the table he realised that he was alone. Quite alone.

Belinda, Lady Bolitho, paused at the entrance of the elegant square, her parasol raised to protect her complexion from the afternoon sun.

She said, "Summer again, Lucinda. It seems no time at all since the last."

Her confidante, Lady Lucinda Manners, gave a quiet laugh. "Time flies away when one enjoys oneself."

They walked on, their light gowns floating in the warm breeze.

"Yes, we shall take tea presently. I am quite exhausted by all the shopping."

They both laughed so that two grooms turned to watch them, and touched their hats as they passed.

Her friend said, "I am so glad that your Elizabeth is fully recovered. Was her father distressed by her injury?"

Belinda shot her a quick glance. Her best friend, yes; but she knew her other side as well. The wife of an elderly financier, Lady Lucinda was one of the first to spread a rumour or some lively tidbit of scandal.

"He paid the fees. It is all I ask."

Lady Lucinda smiled at her. "He seems to take care of most things for you."

"Well, I cannot be expected to pay for everything. Elizabeth's education, her music and dancing lessons, they all mount up."

"It is such a pity. He is still the talk of London, and she flaunts their relationship like some common trollop!" She gave her a sideways glance. "Would you take him back, if…?"

Belinda thought of her confrontation with Catherine in that quiet house in Kent, when Dulcie Herrick had been on the threshold of death. She still shivered when she recalled it. She herself might have contracted the fever. Just to think of such a terrible possibility made all else seem unimportant… That thrice-cursed woman, so proud despite her lecherous behaviour. Scornful even when Belinda had lost her own self-control and shouted at her, "I hope you die!" She had never forgotten Catherine's emotionless response. Even then, he would not come back to you.

"Take him back? I will choose that moment. I shall not make bargains with a whore."

Lady Lucinda walked on, partly satisfied. Now she had gleaned the truth. Belinda would take him back to her bed no matter what the price. She considered Bolitho when she had last seen him. No wonder the Lady Somervell had dared scandal for him: given a chance, who would not?

"What is he doing now? Do you hear from him?"

Belinda was tiring of her friend's curiosity. "When he writes to me I burn his letters, without opening them." But, for once, the lie gave her no satisfaction.

A figure emerged from one of the mews, pushing another on what appeared to be a small trolley. Both wore various oddments of old clothing, but it was obvious that they had once been sailors.

Lady Lucinda put a handkerchief to her face and exclaimed, "These beggars are everywhere! Why is something not done about them?"

Belinda looked at the man on the trolley. He had no legs and was completely blind, his head moving from side to side as his trolley came to a halt. His companion had only one arm, and a scar so deep on the side of his head that it was a marvel he was still alive.

The legless man asked timidly, "Who is it, John?"

Belinda, who had nursed her previous husband until his death, was shocked nevertheless. Even the man's name. John, like Richard's faithful coxswain, his "oak," as he called him.

"Two fine ladies, Jamie." He put his foot on the trolley to prevent it from rolling away and pulled out a cup from his tattered coat.

"A penny, ma'am? Just a penny, eh?"

"Damn their insolence!" Lady Lucinda took her arm. "Come away. They are not fit to be seen in this place!"

They walked on. The man replaced his cup and patted his friend on the shoulder. He murmured, "God damn them, Jamie."

The blind man peered round as if to comfort him. "Never mind, John, we'll get lucky soon, you'll see!"

On the fashionable side of the square Belinda stopped again, suddenly uncertain.

"What is it?"

"I don't know." She looked back, but the two crippled sailors had vanished; perhaps they had never been there. She shivered. "He used to tell me about his men. But when you see them, like those two…" She turned again. "I wish now I'd given them something."

Lady Lucinda laughed and pinched her arm. "You are peculiar sometimes." Then she gestured at a carriage outside Belinda's house. "You have visitors. Another reception, and me with nothing new to wear!"

They laughed and Belinda tried to dismiss the man with the out-thrust cup from her mind. He had had a tattoo on the back of his hand. Crossed flags and an anchor; it had been quite clear even through the grime.

The door opened before they had even mounted the steps and one of the maids stared at them with relief.

"There be a gentleman here to see you, m'lady!"

Lady Lucinda tittered. "I told you!"

Belinda silenced her with a quick shake of her head. "What gentleman? Make sense, girl!"

Someone came from the drawing-room at the sound of her voice and Belinda's heart almost stopped; the stranger wore the uniform of a post-captain, and his face was stern, as if he had been waiting for some time.

"I am sent by Lord Godschale, my lady. I thought it too important to wait for an appointment."

Belinda walked a few paces to the great staircase and back again. "If you believe so, Captain."

He cleared his throat. "I have to tell you, my lady, that I am the bearer of sad news. The packet Golden Plover in which your husband Sir Richard Bolitho was taking passage to Cape Town is reported missing."

Lady Lucinda gasped, "Oh, my God. I pray that he is safe?"

The captain shook his head. "I regret, the vessel was lost with all hands."

Belinda walked to the stairs and sank down on to them.

"Lord Godschale wishes to offer his sympathy and the condolence of every King's sailor in the fleet."

Belinda could barely see through the mist in her eyes. She tried to accept it, to imagine it as it must have been, but instead she could only think of the two men she had just turned away. A penny, ma'am? Just a penny!

Her friend snapped at the maid, "Fetch the doctor for her ladyship!"

Belinda stood up very slowly. "No doctor." Suddenly she knew; and the shock was overwhelming.

"Was Lady Somervell with him, Captain?"

The man bit his lip. "I believe so, my lady."

She saw Catherine in the darkness of Herrick's house, the contempt like fire in her eyes.

Even then, he would not come back to you.

At the end, they had still been together.