The Passionate Friends. Meg Alexander

think we shall be at war quite soon. Napoleon has lost none of his ambition to make himself the master of Europe and beyond. Our Fleet is all that has stopped him until now.”

      “But this present Treaty?”

      “Will give him time to build up his reserves, and to commission new ships. He has suffered heavy defeats at sea. That is where he must destroy us first.”

      “And are the French ships better than ours?”

      “They are faster, and lighter too. Our own are built for strength. The first essential role of a warship is to carry armaments into battle, and the gun decks must be able to take the weight of the artillery.”

      “I see. It must be difficult to strike the right balance between strength and speed.” Her attention was engaged at once.

      “That’s it exactly. I knew you’d understand. Too many guns and too much weight reduce the sailing qualities of a vessel. There’s so much to consider.”

      “Such as?”

      “Seaworthiness, maintenance, manoeuvrability, stability, different weather conditions, and accommodation.”

      “Such a list!” She began to smile.

      “What is it, Judith?”

      “Oh, I don’t know. I thought you might have changed in these past years, but I see that you have not.”

      He raised an eyebrow in enquiry, but she laughed and shook her head. “I meant only that you are still intrigued by technical problems. It is the thing I remember most about you.”

      “Is it?” His voice was heavy with meaning.

      Aware that she was treading on dangerous ground, Judith tried again. “Of course!” she told him lightly. “I recall the day we met when you hung upside down on a small craft by the river at Kew. We all thought you were about to dive beneath it to examine the hull.”

      He chuckled. “I remember. Perry gave me a roasting later. You stayed behind when the others moved away. Why did you do that?”

      “You didn’t worry me!” she murmured. “You left me to my thoughts. I didn’t feel obliged to talk to you.”

      Dan grimaced. “You must have thought me a boor, busy only with my own concerns. Perry informed me that I might, at least, have engaged you in conversation.”

      “There was no need,” she told him briefly. “The silence was so comfortable.” She held out her hand. “I think I must go now.”

      “Not yet!” He took her hand, but he did not release it. “May I not show you what I’m working on at present?”

      Judith was tempted. There was plenty of time before she need return home and when he drew out a chair for her she sat beside him to examine the drawings. There was much she didn’t understand, but her questions were both pertinent and sensible. Spurred on by her interest, Dan was soon well launched upon his favourite subject. Apparently absorbed, he was quick to sense her growing ease of manner, and pleased to see that her somewhat strained expression had disappeared.

      Then, as the clock struck five, she jumped.

      “Great heavens! I have been gone this age,” she cried. “Will you give my kind regards to Prudence and Elizabeth?” She rose as if to take her leave. Then her heart turned over as he gave her a dazzling smile.

      “You have encouraged me to be selfish,” he accused. “I’ve spent the last hour speaking of my own affairs, and you have told me nothing of your own.”

      Judith returned his smile. “I couldn’t get a word in,” she teased gently.

      “But you are still writing? Are they still short pieces?”

      Judith hesitated. “No…”

      “Then what?” Dan looked at her averted face, and his eyes began to sparkle. “Judith, have you started on a book at last? You always meant to write one.”

      She blushed. “I don’t know how good it is. It is just that…well…I was trying to make sense of the world, and it helps to put my thoughts on paper.”

      “But that is splendid!”

      “It is probably quite trivial.”

      “No, I won’t have that. You haven’t got a trivial mind. How much have you done?”

      “Just a few chapters,” she murmured. “Perhaps I’m wasting my time. I’m not the best judge of my own work, I fear.”

      “Then I’ll indulge in a great impertinence. Will you let me see it?”

      She flushed with pleasure. “I’d be glad of another opinion,” she confessed. “You always used to read my things, and I found your comments helpful.”

      “Then it’s settled. When can you bring the manuscript?”

      “I don’t know.” Judith’s eyes grew shadowed. “I…I have other commitments…”

      “Ah, yes, I understand.” Dan’s manner became formal, and for the first time a silence fell between them, though the forbidden subject of her marriage occupied each of their minds.

      Judith found the tense atmosphere unbearable. She thrust out her hand and prepared to take her leave.

      “Too late!” a merry voice cried. “We’ve caught you and we won’t let you go.” Elizabeth swept into the room accompanied by a chattering group of children.

      Judith smiled in spite of herself as Sebastian’s three boys bowed politely to her. They were clearly impatient to reach Dan’s side.

      Then Perry walked in, holding his elder daughter by the hand, and carrying his younger girl. He was quick to dismiss an anxious tutor, and a hovering nursemaid.

      “No, leave them be!” he ordered. “Here is a lady who will be glad to see them. Judith, shall you object to a nursery invasion?”

      “Of course not!” Judith smiled warmly at the children, and took Perry’s eldest girl upon her knee.

      “We met them as they were coming from the park,” Elizabeth explained. “As Judith is here we must have a treat. Tea in the salon, do you think?”

      This suggestion was greeted with whoops of delight from the boys, and Perry laughed.

      “As you wish, my love.” He rang the bell and gave his orders. “You spoil them, dearest. Prudence will have your blood! Think of her carpets…”

      “We’ll be careful, Uncle Perry.” Eleven-year-old Thomas stood upon his dignity, clearly affronted by Peregrine’s reference to the nursery. “Henry doesn’t drop things.”

      “And I don’t drop things either.” The youngest boy glared at his eldest brother.

      “Yes, you do, and they always land with the butter side down.” Thomas directed a quelling glance at Crispin.

      “He won’t do so today.” Judith reached out a hand to Crispin. “Have you had an exciting day?”

      “We went to the Tower to see the wild animals.” The little boy’s eyes grew round. “There were lions, you know…”

      “And were they very fierce?”

      “I didn’t like it when they roared.”

      “He put his hands over his ears,” said Thomas in disgust.

      “I expect I’d have done the same myself,” Judith announced mildly. “An unexpected noise can be frightening…” She looked at Henry. “What did you like best about today?”

      Henry was dear to her heart. Less ebullient than his brothers, he had a retiring nature. She and he had struck up a friendship based upon long silences, trust, and occasional conversations when the boy had opened up his innermost feelings to her.