Marigold Chain (24 page)

Then he saw the
man high above him, silhouetted against the moon and rapidly
descending the mast; and, gripping the blade between his teeth,
Freddy raised his arms and began to climb.

His quarry
reached a joist where the rat-lines would take him over to the
mainmast and hesitated, glancing first at Mr Iverson in determined
pursuit and then at the deck, now alive with sailors; then,
evidently deciding on escape, he seized the ropes and started to
traverse the cross-rigging.

Arriving at the
first yard, Freddy saw his intention and realised that his chances
of catching up were diminishing by the second. He steadied his
position and took the knife from his teeth.

‘
Escape
would you?’ he said to himself. ‘Well, not if I can help it.’ And
threw.

The blade took
his adversary hard in the shoulder, impairing his grasp. He called
out, tried to retain his hold and failed; then, with a single wild
scream, he fell thirty feet to the deck below and landed with a
sickening thud half across a capstan.

In the sudden
silence that followed, Freddy did not even spare him a glance but
went swiftly back the way he had come, down to the poop-deck … and
Danny.

They had moved
the huge timber spar from where it had lain across his hips and
someone had covered him up to the chin in a heavy boat-cloak. In
the light of the lamps, his face was chalky-pale and the bones
stood out in sharp relief against the hollows of his cheeks. Freddy
dropped on one knee beside him, seeking his hand.

‘
Danny?
You badly hurt, old fellow?’

The sandy
lashes flickered slowly open to disclose eyes that, although
beginning to cloud, still held a trace of their usual smile.

‘
Bad
enough,’ said Danny faintly. ‘But I can’t feel anything.’ His eyes
closed, then opened again. ‘Looks like Willie had the right of it.
Did you get him?’

Freddy cleared
his throat. ‘Yes. I think he’s dead.’

‘
He’s
dead all right, sir,’ volunteered a young midshipman behind him.
‘His neck’s broke.’

Danny’s lips
tightened a little. ‘Pity. You could have asked him why … ‘ There
was a pause and then, with the ghost of a grin, ‘Unless he just
don’t like redheads.’

It took an
effort greater than any Freddy had ever made to grin back and reply
in kind.

‘
Might’ve
been aiming at me for calling him a maggot. Only you … stopped
him.’ And there he halted, not knowing how to express what he
felt.

The cold
fingers gripped his hand weakly.

‘
Don’t be
an ass. You’d have done the same. It’s just … the luck doesn’t last
forever.’ The lashes dropped again and he seemed to fall
asleep.

A rustling stir
ran through the small group of sailors at Freddy’s back but he
didn’t turn his head until he heard a familiar voice, unfamiliarly
crisp, saying ‘What the devil’s going on?’

And then he
looked up into Giles Beckwith’s grey eyes.

‘
Giles?’
Rousing, Danny looked hazily up. ‘Is that you?’

And the cool
gaze was cool no longer as it rested on the pinched face beneath
its mop of tangled, fiery hair.

‘
Danny!’
Giles knelt swiftly beside him. ‘What happened?’

‘
Freddy
will tell you. I’m glad you’ve come … thought you were in
London.’

‘
No. I’ve
been with Rupert.’ Giles scanned the young face with a sinking
heart. He had seen death too often not to recognise it in the
dimming eyes and bluish pallor before him. Taking care to move him
as little as possible, he slid an arm beneath Danny’s shoulders and
held him in a comforting grip. ‘Are you in pain?’

‘
No.’
Making a huge effort, Danny turned his head. ‘Listen, Giles – it’s
important. Freddy’ll explain … only you mustn’t tell York or … or
Arlington. Willie Clerke said so. Not York, not Arlington.
Promise?’

Giles cast a
frowning glance at Freddy and then looked back at Danny.

‘
I
promise,’ he said calmly. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll take care of
everything.’

He was rewarded
by a faint sigh and the flaming head sank back. There was a long
silence and then, in a voice that was now a mere thread, Danny
said, ‘Will it be light soon?’

Giles nodded.
‘Yes. Very soon.’

Danny smiled.
‘Good. I’d rather not go in the dark. But they say you see the sun
… afterwards … so perhaps it doesn’t matter.’ His glance flickered
to Giles’s face. ‘Explain to Chloë … give her my love. Alex
too.’

‘
Yes. I
will.’ A white shade bracketed Mr Beckwith’s mouth but his tone
remained level.

‘
And tell
him … he’s lucky. Time he knew. Too damned clever to … to see
what’s under his nose. Always was.’ A laugh which became a rattle
shook Danny’s chest and for a long time he was silent, fighting to
breathe. But finally, he said, ‘I’m glad you’re here … you and
Freddy. But I wish … I wish there’d been more time.’

He lasted until
sunrise, slipping peacefully away as the first fingers of dawn lit
the sky so that in death, as in life, he was smiling. And Giles,
without quite knowing why, would not cover the dead face nor suffer
him to be moved until the sun was truly up, but sat quietly with
Freddy, waiting.

~ * * * ~

For those at
home, the first days of June dragged by in a ferment of anxious
waiting. On the second, London was ablaze with rumours of an
engagement between Albemarle and de Ruyter. On the third came news
that Prince Rupert’s squadron had been sighted off Dover and on the
fourth, Alex took Chloë out to the gravel pits where they stood for
half an hour listening to the guns.

As soon as she
stepped from the carriage, Chloë regretted having asked to come.
The persistent booming of the cannon, unaccompanied by news or any
view of the action, was both frightening and macabre when you knew
that each shot could mean the end for someone; for Danny, or Giles,
or Freddy. She discovered she was standing beside Lady Falmouth,
pale and heavy-eyed with sleeplessness, and without thinking, took
her hand and held it tightly while they stood listening till they
could bear it no longer.

On the
following day Alex brought news that Rupert and Albemarle had
finally joined forces.

Chloë looked up
at him and tried to smile. ‘Well, that’s good isn’t it? It may even
be over by now.

‘
Yes.
They say the guns have stopped.’ His manner was oddly
unfamiliar.

‘
You’re
worried,’ she said, wondering why this should scare her. ‘Do you
think we may have lost?’

‘
I don’t
know. Perhaps not. But we seem to have lost a lot of ships … and
men.’

She sat staring
motionlessly down at her sewing. ‘Anyone we know?’

There was a
pause, then Alex said, ‘Falmouth is dead.’

Chloë’s heart
sank. She swallowed and said, ‘Oh God. When?’

‘
Two days
ago.’

She looked up
then, brown eyes wide and upset, sharing with him thoughts of the
Earl’s gaiety on the night of the banquet; and that, when they had
stood at the gravel pits with Lady Falmouth, she was even then a
widow.

Wednesday the
sixth was the customary monthly fast-day for the plague. Again no
gun-fire was heard and likewise no more news came from the fleet,
except that the Duke of Albemarle was believed unscathed save for a
minor leg-wound. The citizens of London assumed that the battle was
not only fought but won and rang bells and lit bonfires in
celebration.

Their joy was
premature. On the following day came tidings that though the fleet
had lost many ships, it had taken none; that the Navy had lost
twelve commanders, several flag-officers and countless ordinary
seamen; that it was not victory – but defeat.

It was not
until the tenth that Mr Beckwith arrived in London, made his way
reluctantly to Southwark and, for the first time, had Naomi
formally announce him.

Alex stopped
reading and his eyes sought Chloë’s. Then, laying his book aside,
he bade Naomi send Mr Beckwith in and rose from his chair to meet
him. Chloë, filled with relief that this one was safe, folded her
sewing with less than her usual care and waited.

He was as
elegant as ever and apparently unhurt. Chloë smiled warmly at him
and only then saw his face. It was tired and gaunt … and the grey
eyes held an expression that had nothing to do with either.

‘
My God,’
said Alex brightly. ‘You took your time. They say it’s been over
since Monday – but perhaps you were enjoying yourself?’

Giles, who for
five days had been wondering how he was to tell them, promptly
forgot every speech he had prepared and uttered the words that had
been ringing in his brain since Tuesday.

‘
Danny is
dead.’ And then realised, through a haze of fatigue, that Alex had
guessed there was bad news and deliberately made it easy for
him.

Alex might have
been prepared for it but Chloë was not. The room seemed suddenly
dark and sounds became muffled. The blood drained from her face and
she stared disbelievingly at Giles.

‘
He can’t
be,’ she said. ‘It’s a mistake.’

He shook his
head. ‘No.’

‘
Were you
with him?’ asked Alex with a sort of detached calm.

Giles sat down
and passed a hand over his face.

‘
Yes.
Freddy was there too.’ He stopped and tried to think. ‘Freddy’s all
right. He’s with the fleet.’

Alex glanced
down at Chloë who was sitting like a stone, save for hands that
couldn’t keep still. He said, ‘What happened? And when?’

Giles also
glanced fleetingly at Chloë. ‘I don’t think – ‘

‘
Say it,’
ordered Alex crisply, ‘and get it over with. Quickly. She’ll have
to know.’

It was a moment
before Giles answered. Then he said unevenly, ‘It was in the early
hours of Tuesday morning. A yard-arm fell. Danny pushed Freddy out
of the way but – but didn’t have time to move himself. It … it
crushed his spine and legs.’

Chloë made a
tiny sound and clamped her fingers hard over her mouth. Alex drew a
ragged breath but said nothing.

‘
When I
got there,’ Giles went on with an effort, ‘he was still conscious
but failing fast. He talked … mostly rambling … but some of it you
should hear.’

Mr Deveril’s
face was completely colourless and as rigid as a carved mask.

‘
Yes,’ he
said politely, walking to the door. ‘I expect I should. And if you
will excuse me for a moment, I shall be entirely at your
disposal.’

Somewhere in
the recesses of her mind, Chloë realised that he was probably going
to be sick. There seemed to be something odd about that but she
wasn’t sure what it was. Very carefully, she lowered her hands till
they lay in her lap and looked down at them. She could not trust
herself to speak yet for she knew that if she did, she would not be
able to bear it.

A minute
passed, then two. Finally Giles spoke.

‘
He
wasn’t in any pain, Chloë. He – he even joked a little. And he sent
you his love.’

Before he had
finished speaking she was on her feet and half-way to the door.

‘
Sorry,
Giles,’ she said. And fled.

Passing her in
the hall, Alex let her go. He re-joined Mr Beckwith in the parlour,
nudged the door shut with his foot and placed a bottle of brandy
and two glasses on the table. Having filled them both to the brim,
he handed one to Giles and then sat down, taking a large drink from
the other.

‘
I think
we’ll both be the better for getting this over with as fast as
possible,’ he said. ‘Tell me everything.’

Giles leaned
back and closed his eyes.

‘
I was
aboard the
Royal James
with
Rupert,’ he said wearily. ‘As you’ve doubtless heard, we didn’t
catch up with Albemarle until the third – largely because no one
had bothered to tell us that he’d moved to Gunfleet. You’ll hear
people blaming Rupert for his slowness in coming – but the truth is
that he turned back as soon as he heard the guns. There’s no point
in going into detail – sufficient to say the action was heavy all
that day and again on the next. Our losses are enormous – ten ships
at least.’

He opened his
eyes and took a sip of brandy.

‘
It was
late Monday night before I had a chance to get to Harwich and look
for Danny. He’d been aboard the
Henry
but when I got there Harman said he’d
given him leave to meet a friend sailing on the
Portland
. So I went after him.’ He stopped and
frowned into his glass. ‘If I’d arrived even an hour earlier - -
‘

‘
You
might have died with Daniel or instead of him,’ observed Alex
impatiently. He got up and walked to the window. ‘It’s a useless,
damnable waste but blaming yourself won’t help.’

Giles drew a
deep breath and the words came out with an effort.

‘
You
don’t understand, Alex. If Danny had fallen in battle, it would
have been a waste. But he didn’t and it’s more than that. It’s a
tragedy.’

Even without
looking, he felt Mr Deveril’s shock.

‘
Are you
saying,’ asked Alex slowly, ‘that it wasn’t an
accident?’

There was no
way to soften it. ‘Yes. Danny was murdered.’

For a second,
Alex just stared at him. Then he dropped heavily on to the
window-seat, his face driven into the cage of his fingers. ‘Oh
Christ.’