Chapter 24

None of that needed to be on screen. All implied. But the news, yes…the arrival, the stir…coming from the West Indies, Stephen would sail straight for London, and no one would know, since any message sent ahead would take nearly as long…Will wouldn’t know, wouldn’t expect a return…

He had it. He hadit. He yanked script pages closer, brought pen to paper.

Time had passed, of course. They’d see Will working, saving lives, solving ciphers and issuing orders. Stacks of papers, maps, hasty notes. Half-drunk cups of tea. He’d pause every so often to cough, to let a hand tremble. One of the notes, from Lord Cary’s personal physician, suggested a warmer climate, better air, away from London. It’d be visible, unanswered, on the desk.

They’d see Lord Cary in his own office, also isolated, also drowned in work. They’d see flat grey skies. Drizzle over cobblestones. Newspapers and reports: the war ending, Napoleon’s defeat, orders to bring farflung ships and men back home.