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The Commodore was already treating Hebe very much as the stepdaughter she would eventually become and, liking him very much, she stood on no ceremony with him. Receiving a smiling nod from Sara, she hurried into the hall and found a bonnet and shawl.
She slipped her hand under his proffered elbow and allowed herself to be guided out into the sunlit street.
‘Are you happy, child?’ he asked her suddenly.
‘Happy?’ Hebe blinked up at him and he smiled involuntarily at the charming frankness in her wide grey eyes. ‘Why, yes, I am happy. I am very happy.’ And it seemed to her that, without her realising it, a warm tide of contentment had washed over her these past few days. But it was not just a placid state: within that warm glow there was excitement, anticipation, a frisson of something she did not understand.
‘Good.’ The Commodore glanced round as they entered a shady square, so small it might almost be a courtyard. An ancient fountain, its pool edged with the battered arms of the ancient Knights, dribbled water over a moss-covered spout and a stone bench stood under a dusty plane tree. ‘Sit down a moment, Hebe, there is something I want to tell you.’ The little square was quiet, and, with the exception of two women gossiping outside a door, deserted.
‘You will not repeat this to anyone, Hebe, and I do not want to disturb your mother yet, but there is a good chance I will be sailing for England very soon. I do not know whether she will prefer to be married here, or when we arrive in London, but I wanted to forewarn you so you can begin to think about what will need to be done with the household.’
Hebe sat still, absorbing the news. She had known it would happen one day and she had looked forward to returning to the home she hardly knew and the excitements of the long-promised London Season.
‘Will you be sad to leave Malta?’
‘Yes of course, but London will be wonderful.’ There was a reservation in her voice and he picked it up with an accuracy that startled her.
‘And what about your Major?’
‘He is not my Major!’ she protested hotly, then caught his indulgent expression and smiled ruefully.
‘But you wish he was? Well, you could do a lot worse. Only a younger son, of course, but an excellent family, and a man of very good character. A brave officer,’ he added, watching her face. Not every young woman would want to see a man they were fond of in the thick of danger.
But Hebe’s chin came up. ‘I know, I can tell.’ She glanced around, but they were still alone. ‘He is an intelligence officer, is he not?’ She took his silence for assent. ‘And that is
very dangerous?’
‘Yes, although probably no more dangerous than storming an enemy fort. It has its particular hazards.’ He did not appear to want to add to this.
‘Like being shot out of hand as a spy?’ Hebe asked point blank. There was no reply.
After a moment’s thought the Commodore said, ‘I should probably not tell you this, but he will no doubt sail with us when I leave for England.’
‘Alex…I mean Major Beresford…is returning to England?’ A sea voyage, days together through the Mediterranean, sunlight on the water, the flying fish…
‘Certainly as far as Gibraltar. After that, I do not know, and we should discuss it no further. Hebe—’ He broke off as though considering carefully what he had to say. ‘Hebe, I have no daughters of my own, so I do not know whether I am doing the right thing in encouraging you in this, but you have a good man there…’
‘I have not got him,’ she protested.
‘Not yet, perhaps. But I just want you to consider, someone like Alex Beresford will have a long history of, shall we say, entanglements, behind him. More than an inexperienced girl such as yourself might guess. I am sure he would not play fast and loose with you, or I would be speaking to him myself, but I do not want you to build too much upon what may only be a flirtation. If it proves not to be, well, then, no one will be more delighted than I.’
Impulsively Hebe kissed him on the cheek. ‘Thank you, sir. And thank you for the warnings about the near future. I promise I will say nothing. Goodbye!’
She made her way slowly back up the hill, mulling over what Sir Richard had told her, trying to sort out her emotions. Yes she would be sorry to leave Malta, its sunshine, the people, the vivid colours, the ever-present sea. But she was eager for London…or was she?
Suddenly Hebe’s stomach cramped with the sort of cold dread that came sometimes when she woke in the morning, knowing something was wrong, but not yet awake enough to recall what it was. There had been long weeks of that feeling after Papa had been killed, a very much milder version of it when she had a bad tooth and had to wait a week before the only dentist Mama would trust returned to Valetta and she could undergo a very painful extraction.
London would be fun, of course it would, especially now she knew she could cut a passable figure in Society and not be regarded as a Plain Jane. But, looking round, breathing in the smells of hot dust, flowering vines, donkey, drains, spicy food, she knew she would miss Malta most dreadfully. London would be grey, formal, cold and she would have none of the freedom she had now.
But it was the thought of Alex that was filling her with this dreadful apprehension. She wished desperately that the Commodore had not spoken to her. She was frightened for Alex now in a way that she had not been before. And she was also uneasy. The more she thought about Sir Richard’s words, the worse the feeling became. Did he know something? Was he trying to warn her of something in Alex’s past, or even his present? No, surely not, or he would have been more explicit.
What did Alex feel for her? He liked her, he had seemed to enjoy kissing her, but doubtless he enjoyed kissing many young ladies: men did. Mama and Sir Richard appeared to take it more seriously, but they would obviously be hoping for an eligible match for her and could be wildly over-optimistic.
And what did she feel? What would she do if Major Beresford turned up with a ring and a declaration? Hebe gave herself a brisk shake as she reached the front door. Stop it, you hardly know the man. It won’t arise so you can stop thinking about it. Enjoy your first flirtation and wave him goodbye with good grace in Gibraltar.
This admirable good sense sustained Hebe through the days before Mrs Forrester’s ball. Sir Richard started to call in again, so whatever his urgent business had been, it seemed to be done with. A package arrived for Hebe, which on opening contained nothing more than a seashell and a note in a strong black script saying simply, From Sicily.
Hebe put it on her dressing table and tried not to keep picking it up and stroking it all the time as she sat making lists in her head of things that must be done in order to leave Malta. It was difficult because she did not dare put anything on paper and Mama appeared to have been given no hint by Sir Richard.
