Alexander Kent - For My Country’s Freedom

She said, "I’m ready if you are, Bryan. I have no feeling for breakfast."

He said, "Don’t you let my Grace hear that, my lady-she’ll take it badly!"

They walked out into the grey light and turned towards the office where Ferguson kept his estate accounts and records.

She saw his eyes fall to the breast of her gown and the glittering pendant she had hung there almost without realising it.

She said, "I know you think me foolish to wear it. I might lose it somewhere. It’s only…" She turned suddenly, her face terribly pale. "What was that?"

Ferguson wished his wife was here. She would know what to do.

He listened as a hollow bang echoed across the headland, and imagined that he felt the ground shake.

He stared as Young Matthew came hurrying from the stable yard. "Did you hear?" He saw Lady Catherine and touched his hat. "Beg pardon, m’lady, I didn’t know you was here too!"

Another bang. The echo going on and on until lost inland.

She asked, "A ship in distress?" Her mouth was quite dry and her heart was throbbing with an almost physical pain.

Ferguson took her arm. "Best you come inside where it’s warm." He shook his head. "That’s no ship, my lady, that’s the St Mawes battery." He tried to control his racing thoughts, hearing nothing but the regular boom of cannon fire.

Young Matthew looked around as other figures emerged into the crisp morning. There was a sudden silence, and she heard herself ask, "What does it mean, Bryan? Please tell me."

Grace Ferguson had arrived at last, her plump arms outstretched as Ferguson said hoarsely, "Seventeen shots, my lady, an admiral’s salute. That’s what that is!"

They all stared at one another with disbelief until Young Matthew exclaimed, "Well, the port admiral from Plymouth wouldn’t warrant that!" He grinned hugely. "He’s come home, m’lady! He’s here!"

Grace Ferguson said, "You’re not riding down there in your state, m’lady!"

Her husband said, "Matthew, the carriage…"

Catherine walked slowly down to the low wall where her roses would bloom again in the spring.

Coming home. It was not possible. But it was.

I must not let him see me like this. She could feel the tears on her cheeks and lips, like salt from the sea.

She said, "Let us go down, Bryan. I want to watch him come in."

The horses were stamping and shaking their harness as they were backed into the shafts of the handsome light carriage with the Bolitho crest on the door.

I am here, dearest of men. No more will you come home to an empty house.

The tiny village of Fallowfield on the Helford River was quiet and still, protected from the freezing south-westerly by the hillside and the trees, although the wind had sent even the hardiest fisherman scurrying for harbour.

The little inn with its proud sign, the Old Hyperion, was as always like a haven, used mostly by farm-workers and passing merchants.

In the open doorway, Unis Allday’s one-legged brother John stood unmoving in the cold. Years of marching and fighting with his regiment had hardened him against it, and he was more interested in how many customers they would fetch in this day than in the weather.

He had heard Allday’s child, Kate, chuckling from the kitchen. A happy little soul, at the moment anyway.

Unis came into the parlour and regarded him thoughtfully. "I’ll fetch you some ale. Tapped it this morning. Just to your taste." She wiped her scrubbed hands with a towel. "Quiet, ain’t

it? Hope we gets more folk in here later on."

A horse clattered along the narrow road. John saw the glint of buttons, the familiar hat pulled down against the breeze off the sea. One of the Coastguard.

He touched his hat, smiled at the two figures in the doorway and called, "Did you hear the excitement over yonder at Falmouth? Won’t do your trade no good though-there’s a King’s ship in Carrick Roads so the press are bound to be abroad tonight!" He cantered away, unmoved by the misfortunes of others.

Unis ran out after him, in her apron, something she would never normally do.

"What ship, Ned?"

He twisted round in the saddle. "Frigate! The Zest!"

The one-legged ex-soldier put his arm round her shoulders and guided her back into the parlour.

"I know what you were thinking, Unis love, but…"

She pulled herself away and stood motionless in the centre of the room, her fingers clasped as if she were in prayer.

"John, remember that letter we had? Zest? She be one of Sir Richard’s ships!"

She stared around. "Must change the bed. John, you fetch some of the new bread, tell Annie to keep an eye on young Kate!"

He protested, but to no avail.

She stared past him. "Through that door, my man is going to come this day! As God is my witness, I just knows it!" There were tears too, but she was more excited than anxious.

They had two customers, carpenters working on the little church where Unis and John Allday had been wed.

It would be dark early. He watched his sister worriedly. Follow the drum, wear the Kings coat, they said. But nobody ever told you about this part of it.

Unis walked into the parlour, her eyes very bright.

"He’s coming, John. Like I said. Like he promised."

Then he heard it for the first time, faint but familiar above the soft moan of wind around the eaves. The steady clip-clop of Bryan Ferguson’s pony and trap.

She said quietly, "Don’t go, John. You’re part of it."

There were muffled voices and she whispered, "Dear God, let it be him!"

The door opened slowly, perhaps even nervously.

And then she was in his powerful grip, her face nuzzling his fine blue jacket with the Bolitho buttons on it. "Oh, dear John, it’s been so long! I’ve missed you so!"

Her brother, watching, offered, "No need to look surprised, John. We just heard that the Zest was in port!"

Allday stared around, barely able to believe he was here.

"Yes. We was aboard her. Young Captain Adam’s in command." He held her gently as if she might break. "I’ve thought so often of this minute." He thought, too, of the big grey house where he had left Sir Richard with his lady. He must have written to her about his son. That had been almost the worst part.

She had looked at him very calmly and had said, "He has not really gone, you know. Think of that sometimes."

And now he was here. He stiffened as the girl Unis had hired to help her came in, with a baby in her arms. He knew by instinct that it was his daughter, although it could have been anyone’s. He would not tell Unis about his lost son. Not yet. This was their moment alone.

He took the child carefully. "She’s a mite small."

Unis said softly, "The doctor says it’s unlikely I’ll carry another, John. I know a son might have pleased you better."

He pressed the child against his body and tried not to relive the scene on that dreadful September morning. Friends and enemies alike, helping and consoling each other when the fighting had stopped and the flag had come down through the smoke.

He replied quietly, "She’s our Kate. She’ll do me fine." He hesitated. "A son can break your heart."

Unis glanced at her brother but he shook his head. It would keep.

She asked, "Have you brought somebody with you, John All-day? Left him outside in the cold? What will people think?"

The door opened and Lieutenant George Avery ducked under the low beams.

"A room for a few days, Mrs Allday? I’d be obliged." He looked around, remembering when they had left here. "I thought it fairer to leave Sir Richard to enjoy his homecoming." He was smiling, but she noticed that it did not reach his tawny eyes.