Rook(124)

“No, my love. I do not think you will.”



When the landover reached the end of the cliff road, Sophia saw two ships anchored beyond the surf, in the deeper part of a natural harbor. Three masts each, their sails down, the occasional wave breaking white against a hull. They were beautiful, and they were real, and they had been here, waiting. How could she have thought otherwise?

By the time they got down the cliff path and a boat rowed out to them, the nethersun was bleak and nearing the end of its time, shining slanting rays on a full and busy deck.

“René,” said Madame, lifting a painted cheek to receive his kiss as he swung his legs over the rail. “You are very late. I have nearly told Andre to sail without you.”

“I am happy to see you, too, Maman,” René said.

“And Miss Bellamy,” Madame added, an afterthought as Sophia clambered up the rope ladder. “You appear to have been rolling in mud.”

“How very pleasant to see you, Madame.”


René sighed, and then helped a sailor lower a rope for Tom. émile kissed her hand before hurrying on to his own business, Andre gave her a small smile, but Benoit took her by the shoulders and kissed both of her cheeks. “I am happy to see you well and whole, Mademoiselle.”

“And I you, Benoit. Do you know how many we have on board?”

“One hundred and twenty-three refugees between the two ships …,” Benoit began.

“So few?”

“There were eight lost on the way. They have been buried on the cliff side. Others chose not to board, but to make their way to family or friends in other places.”

“I see.” Sophia clutched the rail, still finding her sea legs. René and a sailor were hauling up Tom, his head just cresting the deck. “And is Jennifer Bonnard on this ship?”

“She is in a cabin below. Water and food have been a help, and I have had Peter inject her with penicillin …”

Sophia looked again at Benoit, impressed. Penicillin good enough to inject was expensive. Very expensive. Benoit gave her a self-satisfied shrug. She saw Cartier helping Tom across the deck, to the hatch that led below. Probably he’d just received the same information about Jennifer that she had. “Are we ready to sail?” she asked Benoit.

“We have waited only for you, and now we wait for the destination.”

“Oh, well, Bellamy House, of course. Don’t you think? If we aren’t going to have it much longer, then we might as well put it to good use while we do. Straight west across the Channel, then a half mile sail up the coast.”

Andre, who had been listening to this, nodded once and moved quickly to the helm while Benoit looked at her curiously. “And what will you do when you get there, Mademoiselle?”

Sophia let out a long, slow breath. She didn’t quite know how to answer him. But she had been thinking.

Benoit said, “I see that you are scheming.” She gave him a look of innocent surprise, and Benoit made a little Parisian pfft sound. “Of course you are scheming. But may I offer you advice?”

She waited. Benoit’s advice was generally very good.

“Do not try to please her.”

Her gaze jumped to Madame Hasard, lifting her elegant dress to go belowdecks. “And why would you say that, when I am in need of her approval?”

“Because she will not respect it. It has always been her way.”

Now it was her turn to look curiously at this nondescript, enigmatic little man who spoke no Commonwealth and seemed to be in charge of the ships and, to some extent, the Hasards. “How long have you known her?”

Benoit mimicked her look of innocence. “Why, since the day she was born, Mademoiselle.” He smiled. “Perhaps you did not know that Madame is my sister?”

Sophia felt her eyes widen, sure her mouth must be hanging open. “But I thought … you were a …”

Benoit tilted his head at her. “And why would you think that?” He was smiling genuinely now while Sophia’s mind swept the deck, mentally counting uncles. émile speaking quietly to René, Andre at the helm, Peter, Enzo, and Francois presumably on the other ship. What a prat she’d been. René had told her his mother had six brothers. Why had she never noticed that she’d only been introduced to five? Or even considered that their surname could not be Hasard?

“In any case, what sort of uncle would I be, Mademoiselle, to allow René to run about the Commonwealth, getting engaged on his own? He might get into trouble. Do you not agree?”

Sophia closed her mouth and returned the man’s smile. “Of course I agree. And so, what exactly is your name, Benoit?”

“Benoit is our family name, Mademoiselle.”

“Then what is your first …”

“I prefer Benoit. Just Benoit.”

She wondered what given name could possibly be so bad that Benoit would prefer his own family not to use it. Surely it couldn’t be worse than “Francois Benoit.” Or perhaps it could.

Benoit took her hand and kissed it. “Do not try to please her, Mademoiselle. It is my best advice.”

“Call me Sophia,” she said, before he melted away into the shadows.



The middlesun was hidden behind thick clouds when Sophia’s boots hit the shallow water of the Bellamy beach. She splashed and ran across the pebbly sand, leaving René and Benoit and Tom to get out of the boat. Orla was standing at the end of the cliff path, waiting for her. She must have spotted the ships and come running herself.