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Anna looked sharply from one to the other, then linked her arm through Hebe’s and began to walk back to her cousin’s house. ‘It is time you were in bed, tomorrow we cross the lines into English territory. We need all our wits about us.’ As they reached the door she ushered Hebe through and towards the stairs. ‘Goodnight, Major.’
‘Goodnight, Anna. Goodnight, Miss Carlton.’
Anna raised interrogative eyebrows at Hebe as they turned up the wicks of the lanterns in the bedroom they were sharing. ‘Miss Carlton? Have you had an argument, you two?’
Hebe unlaced her jacket wearily. ‘He thought I was being distant.’ Anna looked puzzled. ‘Formal, cold. He thought he had done something to alarm me and that was why you were such a strict duenna. I told him that it was only that I thought we had better seem to be less good friends before we got back to Gibraltar.’
‘Sì?’
‘And then he said something…that he thought I was attractive, and—oh, Anna, I do not know what happened, but suddenly we were looking at each other and…’
‘You find you are in love with him?’ the other woman said drily, as she folded her wide skirts and laid them on a chair.
‘I knew that already,’ Hebe said, equally drily. ‘I knew that on Malta, but thank goodness, the letter from Lady Clarissa came before I could do or say anything that might make him suspect I was doing more than flirting.’
‘And the Major?’
‘He loves Lady Clarissa. But, as you said the other day, I am here and she is not and he is a man. And one who appears to find me attractive, although no one else ever has.’
‘Qué?’ Anna said, looking amazed. ‘No one? Why not?’
Hebe shrugged as she rolled off her stockings. ‘I was ordinary—I am ordinary, only Alex makes me feel special. I was the sort of girl who is a good friend, a nice girl. Nothing special, no charm, everyone tells me their problems but never thinks I might have an interesting secret of my own. Mama is always saying what a pity I have no looks.’
Anna made a complicated, very Spanish, sound. ‘What nonsense. Me, I would like to box your mama’s ears, silly woman! I suppose she is one of those little white—no, blonde, is that the word?—blonde English women who get fat when they are forty. All giggles and no bones. Now you,’ she glared at Hebe, who was trying not to smile at this pungent description ‘—you listen to me! You have the bones and the charm and yes, you are a nice girl, but with a man who loves you, you will be a beautiful woman. Especially,’ she added with a wicked twinkle, ‘especially if he makes love to you.’
‘Yes, but he must not make love to me!’ Hebe said, scrambling into bed and pulling the covers up. ‘He is going to get married to someone else whom he loves. Just because a man wants to make love to you, it does not mean he is in love, does it?’
‘No, more is the pity.’ Anna sighed, climbing into bed beside her and blowing out the light. ‘The trouble with men is that they are all ruled by their—’ She suddenly seemed to realise to whom she was speaking and broke off. ‘Good night, Hebe, querida. You will be home with your mama tomorrow, if the good Lord allows.’
The next day seemed so much like the ones before it that Hebe could not truly believe the end of their journey was almost over. But as
the morning wore on, Anna’s tenseness and Alex’s hawk-like watchfulness began to make her nervous, and when they rounded a corner to find themselves walking straight into a troop of British horsemen Hebe almost cried out with the shock of it.
She stood by the cart, her hand tight in Anna’s, as Alex spoke to the young Lieutenant in command of the troop. The discussion was too quiet for Hebe to hear, but the officer glanced once or twice in her direction and she could see him nodding repeatedly as he listened to Alex.
Then Alex came back to the cart, the first smile Hebe had seen on his face all day lightening his expression. ‘Audacious made harbour safely with no more loss of life. Your mother and Sir Richard are quite safe—but in deep mourning for you.’ He broke off as Hebe turned her face into Anna’s shoulder and burst into tears, waiting patiently until she managed to get her emotions under control and turned a watery smile on him. ‘Lieutenant Farthing is offering to send a messenger on ahead with the news. You know best how your mother would react—is it better for a stranger to give her the good news quickly, or do you want to wait and see her yourself?’
‘Send ahead, please.’ Hebe had no doubt what she would prefer if the position was reversed. She turned to the officer, who had ridden a little closer to hear her decision. ‘Please, Lieutenant Farthing, I would be so grateful.’
He touched his hat to her and called over a trooper. ‘Find Sir Richard Latham and tell him that his stepdaughter Miss Carlton is quite safe and in good company and will be with him within two hours. Only approach Lady Latham if you cannot locate Sir Richard and make sure she has her woman with her before you break the news—good tidings can be as shocking as bad if they are unexpected.’ He made the man repeat his instructions and they watched as he spurred his horse away down the road.
‘I can send another trooper back with you, Major, but I regret I cannot spare the horses to mount all of you. The road ahead is quite safe. Peters! Escort the Major and his party back into the town. Ma’am, my congratulations on your safe return!’
The short distance to safety seemed endless to Hebe now her anxieties about her mother were at rest. How soon would the trooper reach Sir Richard? How long would it take to find Mama? What state of health was she in after that nightmare sea voyage and the shock of her stepdaughter’s apparent death?
She wanted to talk to Alex, to ask all these questions, none of which he would be able to answer, simply for the comfort of talking to him, but he seemed to be growing colder and more distant with every step. The monk she had at first compared him to was back in control and the Alex she had come to know over the past days seemed a distant figure.
The trooper had done his work well, for they were expected at the gate and escorted efficiently to a carriage. Hebe understood vaguely that they were being taken to the Governor’s house where her parents were lodging, but she hardly took it in, nor was she at all conscious of the streets through which they were passing.
She was vaguely aware of Alex starting to say something and Anna hushing him sharply. ‘Not now, she needs her madre.’ Then they arrived at the foot of some stone steps, the carriage door was opened and she was hardly out of the coach before Sara, sobbing, had run down and gathered her into a smothering embrace.
How much later it was that she found herself sitting beside her stepmother in an elegant sitting room she had no idea. Sara, still clad in deep black, was alternately dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief, kissing Hebe and clutching the hand of Sir Richard who stood beside her, beaming at the reunited pair.
Hebe took a long sip of the glass of wine someone had pressed into her hand and looked around her. Of Alex and Anna there was no sign. ‘Where are A…the Major and Mrs Wilkins?’
‘Major Beresford is outside, he thought you would want to be alone with us. So considerate. But who is Mrs Wilkins?’
‘Mrs Anna Wilkins, the Spanish lady who helped us.’ Sara was looking puzzled, so Hebe continued, hoping she would say something that fitted with whatever story Alex and Anna would tell. ‘She is the widow of a sergeant who served with Major Beresford and she has connections with the Spanish partisans. After we were washed ashore she took us in: I stayed at her brother’s house until we could make our way back here.’
