‘I see I must,’ Renzi said flatly, and Kydd coloured. Later, leaving for the concert, he nearly collided with someone walking in haste. He had last seen her at the lace counter.
Kydd had to admit the forced idleness was not altogether an imposition. He was seated at a table in a small taberna with Renzi, enjoying a good bottle of red wine and the fine view from their position at the top of the cliff-like edge of the town into the glittering emerald length of the harbour. ‘Y’r good health, Nicholas,’ he said complacently, raising his glass.
‘A most underrated and priceless gift,’ Renzi murmured, lifting his glass and staring into it.
‘Er, wha—?’
‘Robust health, in course, brother. Worth more than diamonds and rubies, this can never be bought with coin – it is always a gift from nature to man, which never asks aught in return.’
‘Just so, Nicholas. But do you mark that barque comin’ around th’ point? She’s English.’ This was a welcome sight in the Mediterranean that, before Nelson’s victory, had been cleared of English flagged vessels. ‘A merchantman,’ Kydd said lazily, and pulled out his little spyglass. ‘Cautious master, fat ’n’ comfortable – wonder what she’s carryin’.’
The vessel went into the wind, brailing up and coming to a standstill. Lines were carried ashore by boat and in one movement the ship was rotated seaward again and brought alongside the landing-place near the customs house, just below where they sat.
Curious, Kydd focused on a colourful group on her afterdeck. From attentions given they must be passengers, and important ones at that: the brow was quickly in place for their disembarkation before the sailors had even begun snugging down to a good harbour furl.
Something about one of them, however, caught his attention: unconscious cues in the way she walked, the movement of her hands, which he knew so well…
‘Nicholas – I’d swear… It must be!’ He jumped to his feet. ‘I’m goin’ down. It’s Cecilia!’
A narrow inclined pathway zigzagged to the water and Kydd hurtled down it, then finally emerged on to the busy wharf.
‘Cecilia, ahoy!’ he shouted, waving furiously, but an open-topped carriage drove away just as he came close.
He stared after it foolishly but a woman’s voice behind him squealed, ‘Thomas! Is that you?’ He turned to see his sister flying towards him. ‘My darling brother!’ she said happily, embracing him. When she released him, her eyes were glistening.
‘Cec – what are y’ doing here?’
‘We’re to establish in Minorca, Thomas. Lord Stanhope is to treat with the Austrians to—But why are you here?’
Kydd pointed across the harbour to where the ugly bulk of Tenacious’s hull lay on its side. ‘This is now th’ home of the Royal Navy in the Mediterranean, Cec, and Tenacious is bein’ repaired.’
A disgruntled wharfinger touched his hat with one finger. ‘Where’m they ter take yer baggage, then, miss?’
‘Thomas – I have to go. Where can I see you again?’
‘An’ it’s a shillun an hour ter wait for yez.’ The arms were folded truculently.
‘Here, sis.’ Kydd pulled out one of his new-printed calling cards. ‘Tonight it’s t’ be a rout f’r all hands – an’ you’re invited.’
The evening promised to be a roaring success – other than Renzi, no officer had met Kydd’s sister and all were bowled over. He had to admit it, Cecilia was flowering into a real beauty, her strong character now veiled beneath a sophistication learned from attending many social events in her position as companion to Lady Stanhope. But what really got the occasion off to a splendid start was the discovery that Cecilia had been in London when the news of the great battle of the Nile had broken. ‘Oh, you cannot possibly conceive the noise, the joy! All of London in the streets, dancing, shouting, fireworks – you couldn’t think with all the din!
‘There were rumours for weeks before, it’s true, but you must know we were all in a horrid funk about the French! All we heard was that Admiral Nelson had missed the French fleet and it was taking that dreadful General Buonaparte to land an army on us somewhere – you cannot imagine what a panic!
‘Then Captain Capel arrived at the Admiralty with dispatches and the town went mad. Every house in masses of illuminations, bells ringing, cannon going off, Lady Spencer capering in Admiralty House, the volunteers drilling in Horseguards firing off their muskets – I can’t tell you how exciting it was.’
Under the soft touch of the candlelight her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes hushed the room and had many an officer looking thoughtful.