‘She doesn’t have a name, Etienne,’ Sally said, when she came into the servants’ hall. ‘She is your pots-and-pans girl. You should name her.’
‘Vivienne, after my sister?’ he said decisively. ‘Vivienne was her age when she died. It is a good name.’
‘Very well. You can tell her in the morning.’
She went upstairs slowly, tired in body, but more in mind. Etienne said he would bring supper soon, but she craved company more than soup or meat. She looked in the sitting room and up at the ceiling, which had been painted a sedate soft white.
‘Starkey said it’s only the first coat,’ the admiral said from the sofa, where he sat with his shoes off and his feet out in front of him. ‘You can tell them tomorrow what colour you would like.’
It was utterly prosaic, but she burst into tears anyway, and soon found herself burrowed in close to the admiral, his arm about her.
‘I’m sorry,’ she managed to gasp, before a fresh wave of tears made her shoulders shake.
‘Oh, belay that,’ he murmured. ‘Is she going to be all right?’
She nodded, taking the handkerchief he held out with his hook. ‘I don’t know. Can we send for a physician tomorrow? When she was in the bath, I noticed her private parts… Oh, Charles, they’re all inflamed. Do you think that horrible man…?’ She couldn’t say any more. He held her close.
‘The physician will sort her out,’ he said, his voice hard. ‘Too bad I cannot have that man flogged around the fleet until the skin comes off his back in tatters.’
She shuddered. ‘You’ve done that?’
‘That and more, and for less offense, Sophie,’ he said. He put his hand over her eyes, closing them. ‘Don’t think about it. The best thing that happened to Twenty was you.’
‘Her name is Vivienne. Etienne named her.’
She sighed, happy to close her eyes behind his hand. He kissed the top of her head and cradled her against his chest.
‘It’s a tough world, my dear,’ he said.
‘Not here, not in this decrepit den of thieves,’ she said softly. ‘I’d like a very soft green in this room. Of course, that might require new furniture.’
She felt him chuckle, more than heard him.
They were sitting like that, close together, heads touching, when Starkey opened the door and cleared his throat.
‘Sir, your sisters are here.’ He paused, and closed his eyes against the horror of it all. ‘They have brought Egyptian furniture.’
Charles groaned. ‘Oh, Lord, there you go—new furniture.’
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