Marcia Talley: The Last Refuge

‘Have you seen my husband, Amy?’

‘Hannah, I have never met your husband.’

I felt my face redden. ‘Of course you haven’t. Well, if you see a handsome, elderly-statesman type wandering around looking lost, that’s probably Paul. In the meantime, I’m going to take a look around.’

‘Don’t worry about me, Hannah. Michael and French arrived a few minutes ago. I think they’re exploring the card room, so I’ll catch up with them there.’

I began my search in the banquet room, selecting a few olives from a bowl on the table, popping them into my mouth, and then wondering what I was going to do with the pits. I began looking around for a receptacle. Sitting in the far corner of the room, almost invisible in the gloom and partially hidden by a curtain, I nearly stumbled over Gabe, head bowed, his knees pulled up to his chest.

‘Gabe! What are you doing hiding over there?’

‘Why can’t I go to the bonfire with Dex?’ he whined. ‘This place is booooring!’

‘As your father probably explained, it’s because you are a young gentleman, and Dex is supposed to be a slave boy. Slave boys didn’t get to come to dances, unless they were working.’

His lower lip quivered, but he held himself together. ‘That totally sucks.’

‘I totally agree with you, Gabriel, but that’s the way it was back then.’

Gabe had something in his hand. As I drew closer, he tucked it behind his back.

‘What do you have there, Gabe?’

His eyes were wide, innocent. ‘Nothing.’

‘Nothing?’

He stared at me in silence.

I held out my hand. ‘Let me see.’

Reluctantly, with exaggerated slowness, Gabe drew out his hand. ‘It’s an iPod Touch,’ he told me. ‘I’m playing Angry Birds.’

An iPod. The little devil. ‘I thought you turned your iPod in?’

‘I did, Mrs Ives, honest. I found this one.’

‘You found it? Where did you find it?’

‘In a china pot in your room. When you were sick? Remember?’

Truthfully, except for extended conversations with long-dead French philosophers, I had very little recollection of what happened during my extended bout with the dreaded H3N2 virus. I held out my hand. ‘Give it to me, please.’

Gabe sucked in his lips, but handed the instrument over. I pushed the button to exit his game and return to the main screen, then turned the phone in his direction. ‘What does this say, Gabriel?’

‘Amy’s iPhone.’

‘Exactly. So it isn’t an iPod Touch, is it?’

‘No, ma’am.’

‘And it isn’t yours.’

A single tear slid down the boy’s cheek. He shook his head.

‘Then, why do you have it?’ I asked, pocketing the phone.

‘I kept it because I wanted to talk to my mom, but when I put her number in, it didn’t work.’ He swiped at his cheek with the back of his hand. ‘She writes me letters, but I really, really miss her.’

‘Oh, Gabe!’ I coaxed the boy to his feet and crushed him against my petticoats. ‘I know how hard it must be for you.’ I tipped his chin so I could look into his eyes. ‘But it wasn’t right to take Amy’s phone.’

He nodded miserably.

After a moment, I tousled his hair, then marched him back into the ballroom. Although it wasn’t the done thing, 1774-wise, I considered turning the boy over to his father for a good tongue-lashing, but fortunately, I spotted several youngsters about Gabe’s age clustered at the fringes of the ballroom, attempting to dance but making it look more like a scuffle. ‘There are some kids your age, now scoot!’ I gave him a whack on the butt to send him on his way.

I rejoined my friends, lined up casually along the wall back where I had left them. I was planning to hand the iPhone back to Amy, but just then, we were joined by Admiral Michael Miller, the Naval Academy superintendent, his ginger hair covered by a powdered wig. Trim, and ramrod straight, Miller wore the uniform of a Continental Admiral of the Revolutionary War which was surprisingly similar to the navy dinner dress uniform of today – white breeches topped by a dark blue dress coat with tails and a double row of brass buttons marching down the front. The heavily-fringed gold epaulets that decorated his shoulders were a thing of the past, however. The admiral’s wife wore a gown of Prussian blue, with tiny yellow bows decorating the sleeves and bodice. Miniature dolphins frolicked through her powdered curls. I had to admire it. ‘Navy colors, I see. Blue and gold. I like it! Especially the dolphins.’ I pointed at my own elaborate coiffure. ‘My theme is birds, as you probably guessed.’

‘Where’s the good professor?’ Admiral Miller wanted to know.

‘He should have been here a half-hour ago,’ I said. ‘Frankly, I’m getting a little worried.’

Mrs Miller touched my arm. ‘I’m sure he’ll turn up,’ she said. ‘They’ve closed downtown streets to vehicles, so traffic has been simply horrendous!’

I didn’t point out to her that we lived just two blocks away, so traffic shouldn’t have been an issue, but it was just like Paul to get tied up somewhere, with a midshipman needing advice, for example. I fingered Jud’s note for reassurance.

Meanwhile, the musicians had moved on to a reel. Melody’s friend, Jason, came to fetch her, and when the young couple began dancing, I couldn’t take my eyes off her, and neither could anyone else in the room. ‘Oh, Alex, you taught that girl well,’ I whispered to our dead friend’s spirit. ‘She is truly the belle of the ball.’

Next to me, Amy said, ‘Just listening to that music makes me miss Alex terribly.’

‘We all miss him,’ Michael said.

After a while, I asked, ‘What happened to Alex’s violin?’

‘Jud packed up all his stuff,’ Michael said. ‘Sent it home to Alex’s parents. We’ll miss the funeral service, you know.’ He shook his head. ‘Doesn’t seem right somehow.’

The reel ended, Melody and Jason strolled away to the banquet room. Another reel was announced, and I’d just decided to try and hook up with another glass of punch when a familiar voice said, ‘Madam, may I have this dance?’

I pressed a hand to my chest, light-headed with relief. ‘Sir, I would be delighted.’

I almost didn’t recognize him. I had been expecting the green costume he’d been wearing at our last outing, but Paul wore a cobalt-blue suit and a gold brocade weskit instead. Lace spilled out of the ends of his sleeves and over his collar. His wig was different, too. The silver hair was swept back, high off his forehead. Two enormous curls, the size of orange juice cans, trembled over each ear.

‘I was so worried that something had happened to you!’ I blurted out.

‘Not to worry,’ Paul said smoothly. ‘You got the message from Jud? That Drew Cornell is in custody?’

I fell back against the wall. ‘Yes, thank God! Where did it happen?’

Paul leaned close. ‘Jud’s security people picked him up in Brad Perry’s backyard earlier this afternoon. They’re not sure what his plans were.’

Brad Perry is our next-door neighbor. That was way too close for comfort. ‘What happens now?’

‘He’s being turned over to Navy custody as we speak.’

‘I should tell Amy.’

Paul reached for my hand. ‘That can wait.’ He escorted me onto the dance floor, my legs feeling as limp as cooked spaghetti.

We took our place at the head of the line.

Four steps forward, bow . ‘So, which actor is running around naked tonight?’ I asked in an attempt to lighten the mood. Four steps back .

Four steps forward, join right hands, turn, turn. ‘Sir Peter Teazle. That’s why I was late. I couldn’t find the mid with the key to the costume room.’ Four steps back.