Chapter Five

“How do you know that, Able?”

Meridee wasn’t sure why she woke up. Ella didn’t need a feeding yet. Able was warm and comfortable but he was sitting up in their bed. The faint glow of the street lantern showed her man with his head bowed, as though in defeat. In that odd world between awake and asleep, someone had distinctly said Davey was broken. It must have been Able.

She reconsidered. The last few years of relief from Able’s cranial companions had spoiled her. She didn’t miss them, and he seemed not to. Since Trafalgar, Meri had noticed a calm assurance in her unlikely genius of a husband. But now, this man who sat with his head bowed was not the confident fellow who had jollied her a few hours earlier.

She put her hand on his back and drew him closer. It was probably silly of her, but she said it anyway. “Euclid, I will take care of him from here, please.”

She convinced Able to lie down and kept him there with her leg thrown over his body, something she knew he liked. Leaning on one elbow, she looked into his face.

“Able, my love, something is wrong with Davey. Did…did Euclid give you any indication what it was?”

“They must have found out he was a workhouse boy,” Able replied, after a long silence, which gave her time to slowly rub his chest. His heart was beating too fast, which worried her. This had happened before, though not in six years at least.

“But why would that… He’s so smart and already knows more than most students, I would wager,” she said.

“He doesn’t know his place, and I suppose they mean to remind him,” Able said. She heard the bitterness. “I wonder what they have done to him. He should be here later today. He’s been riding on the mail coach. No sleep, I imagine. Um, Euclid just told me he even felt obliged to give Davey a smack to his head. Oh, Meri!”

She could have asked how he knew that much, but she knew better than to question what went on inside his ever-churning brain. She had no doubt about her role in his life. She was his lover, his keeper, his chief consoler, the mother of his lovely children, and the manager of family finances, because his brain was too large for simple adding and subtracting. She was the woman he turned to in good times and bad because he knew the depths of her heart.

“We’ll find out soon enough and deal with it,” she whispered. “Go to sleep, dearest.” She held him close, loving him with every fiber of her heart, matching her breathing to his. To her infinite relief, she felt him relax and sleep. She lay back herself, and then did her own foolish thing. Euclid, I don’t mind a little help now and then, not when it’s Able and the Rats. Or our babies.

Nothing changed in her mind, but she knew nothing would. Time to snuggle close and close her eyes. To her breathless amazement, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder - Euclid’s? – then nothing more.

Morning brought the usual scramble of a baby demanding a good suck and a dry nappie. Breakfast meant cheerful Avon March dropped by to “escort” his mentor across the street to St. Brendan’s, where Avon now lived with the other Rats. Avon had begun the escort habit not long after Trafalgar. “He was indefatigable and untiring during the battle,” Able observed to her once. “I think he still believes I could require his services at any moment.”

“If you ask me, he likes breakfast here,” Mrs. Perry said in the kitchen. Her put-upon glower never proved effective because everyone liked Avon.

“We all do,” Meri reminded her, and patted her less trim middle. “If I weren’t so famished, I could resist your cinnamon buns.”

“Missy, you are nursing another baby,” Mrs. Perry reminded her, and gave Meri a little swat with the wooden spoon when she turned to carry in the scrambled eggs.

Meri laughed when she set down the bowl in the dining room. Someone else had materialized with Avon. She held out her arms and hugged Nick Bonfort-Six to her, the boy – no, young man – Able had adopted. “Nick! What in the world? Avon, please tell Mrs. Perry we need more eggs and toast.”

Able was still shaving with Ben watching, and Avon briefly out of the room. She kissed Nick, the boy with no last name who had taken her maiden name, and then became their adopted child. He was far taller than she now, and filled out in the way of a man in the making. With wind and sun lines around his eyes already, she gazed at a mariner.

“My goodness, why are you even here? Did Lord Collingwood decide he was tired of the Mediterranean?”

Oh, and a deep voice, too? Her Rats were growing up. The mischief and wonder that was Nick remained Nick, to her delight. “Mum, the admiral expressly sent me here to deliver private messages to the Admiralty! I’ve only just come from London.”

“An audience with the First Lord?”

He nodded. She motioned him to the sideboard for bacon and eggs and he did not hesitate. He looked splendid in his uniform, just a simple dark coat and pants, because he served as one of the secretaries to the man who had assumed Lord Nelson’s command after the little admiral’s death at Trafalgar. A closer look suggested that the trouser legs could be let out. Nick was still growing. Maybe there would be time to tackle that bit of hemming before he left.

His plate full, Nick ate a few hurried bites to take the edge off his hunger. With a pang, Meri remembered that all the Rats did that even now, as if they would always fear the food might disappear. Better to get a mouthful in immediately. He leaned back. “The First Lord even offered me rum as I waited while he read the dispatch,” he said, as if he couldn’t quite believe his good fortune.

“Only a small tot?” she asked, because she thought he expected her to comment.

“A small one,” he assured her, then turned into the boy she remembered. “Mum, that room! The maps, the gilt chairs! Such a place.” He grinned and picked up his fork again.

Avon returned with toast and jam, and Able himself brought in more eggs. Meri watched her husband, pleased to see the delight in his eyes. Nick sprang to his feet, and they embraced.

“This is a rare pleasure,” Able said. “Who’s minding the shop?”

Nick grinned at the teasing. “I think Admiral Collingwood knows his business.” His face grew serious then. “Da, he has been trying to wangle some shore leave, but no. It’s been years.”

“He’s not well?”

“His dog Bounce looks better than he does. He’s been at sea for six years now.” Nick looked from Meri to Able. “Could you two stand that?”

Meri felt tears well in her eyes. She shook her head, unable to speak. Able drew her into his generous embrace. Her tears spilled over when Able gestured for Avon to join them. “We’re all part of this family, Avon,” he said simply.

Meri blew her nose on the handkerchief Able gave her and looked around for Ben, who generally tagged along with his father, after they “shaved” together, Able applying soap to his son’s face and scraping it off with the flat side of the razor.

“Our scamp of a son is trying to wheedle an extra cinnamon bun from Mrs. Perry,” Able said. “My heir and offspring is far ahead of me. I’m still a little afraid of Mrs. Perry, but Ben simply forges ahead.” They all laughed and settled at the table.

Ben joined them, holding two cinnamon buns. He saw Nick and his eyes brightened. To Meri’s delight, he took his extra prize to Nick. “You probably don’t get these on the HMS Ocean,” he told Nick. “I can wait a bit and try Mrs. Perry later.” He leaned closer. “She’s getting forgetful.”

“Same old Ben,” Nick said to Able.

“The same. After breakfast, would you care to join Avon and me across the street? Ben, too, of course.”

“I would like that, sir. Ben?”

“He’s rather enjoying the calculus,” Able said. “He’ll join my second hour class once he finishes diagramming sentences with Mrs. Ogilvie.”

Nick rolled his eyes and returned to the eggs.

“We’ll leave Mum with my girls. Ah, and here is Mary Munro, no early riser she.”

Still in her nightgown, their daughter climbed onto Meri’s lap and turned her face into her mother’s breast. “My love, you remember Nick,” Meri said.

Mary Munro nodded, but still didn’t look. Meri cuddled her, breathing deep of sleep-tousled hair, and the tender warmth of little ones. She smiled at her husband. In return, his gaze was long and deep. She reminded herself that he was only going across the street for the day, even if he did suck out some of the air from the room when he left. She had been married to him for seven years, long enough, surely, to take him for granted a little. It never happened. She rested her cheek against Mary Munro’s curls, too shy to look at the man who knew her inside and out.

The sweet moment passed. They continued eating. Soon she heard Ella begin her morning demands upstairs and felt the familiar tightening in her breasts. She set Mary Munro in her own chair with the two books on it to bring her to table height. “As soon as you are done, my little love, come upstairs and we will cuddle some more,” she said. “Luncheon here for all of you, or must you leave, Nick?”

“I sail on the afternoon tide, so yes, lunch with Mum and my…my sisters,” the young man said.

Meri kissed them all, even Avon, then left the room to tend Ella. At the door she looked back, pleased with what she saw of order, good food, no harsh voices ever. Before his death three years ago, Captain Sir Belvedere St. Anthony had told her, “Mrs. Six, I know you wonder how on earth you can manage our unlikely master genius, but here you are, and all around is your gift of serenity. Bravo, little girl. The First Lord of the Admiralty could not have planned this better.”

She thought of that as Ella nursed, and Mary Munro joined them after reminders to dress and tidy her room. Ella dozed and dreamed of milk as Meri Six pointed to numbers on what Able called flash cards. To her vast relief, Mary Munro, while obviously bright, was no Ben. She looked down at Ella. What about this child? Time would tell.

She left Ella to slumber a little more, with Mary Munro reviewing her number cards and sitting cross-legged on the bed beside her sister. After a fresh dress and quick brush of her hair – Able had whispered over scrambled eggs that he wanted to brush it tonight, which usually preceded General Merriment – she hurried downstairs as someone knocked on the door.

Pegeen was busy in the kitchen, so Meridee opened it, wondering what baked treat Ezekiel Barnaby was bringing by so early in the morning.

Davey Ten stood there, his duffel slung over his shoulder. He opened his mouth and closed it, then bowed his head and wept.