“You’ll pat my back?”
“Oh yes. I could even sing you to sleep. Just don’t leave me again, Thomas.”
“I won’t. Now that you know about my weakness, there’s no reason to go hide.” He stood. “I’m going to get the physician.”
“Will I have to walk on his back?”
“Dr. Pilchart? Why no, his back is in grand shape.”
“Will I have to lose flesh?”
For a moment, he didn’t know what she was talking about, then he remembered Aunt Libby saying that to Lord Kipper.
“Actually, you need to gain a bit of flesh, not much, mind you, I’ve always liked skinny girls. Meggie, when you’re struck on the head you don’t usually remember anything leading up to it. Do you remember more than you told me?”
“I’ll tell you if you don’t get Dr. Pilchart.”
“But you might be seriously hurt.”
“But what could he do? Would he break open my head and look inside? Even if he did, would he know what he was looking at?”
“I guess not. All right, for the moment, I’ll stay right here with you. Now, do you remember anything more?”
“Oh yes,” Meggie said, “I remember everything.” She stopped every few moments, closing her eyes against those slashes of pain in her head. Finally she said, “It was the lightning, the thunder, I heard him draw in his breath, really sharp. It scared him. When I turned about, then he struck me.”
“You know it was a man?”
“No. But whoever it was wasn’t small. All in black, Thomas, he was all in black, his head, everything, covered.” She cocked an eye open. “Please don’t fetch Squire Billings to assist you in finding the culprit.”
He smiled. “I won’t. Actually, I’m the magistrate around here.”
“I made you smile,” she said, and brought up her fingertips to lightly touch his mouth, “but I didn’t really mean to.”
“Meggie, I want you to stay awake a bit longer. Head injuries are unpredictable.”
“I’m really tired, Thomas.”
“I know, but hold on.” He took her hand and said, “I’ll help you stay awake. Listen to me now. Let me tell you about my first ship, mostly financed by the earl of Clare, which went all the way to India. It was due back the first week of October. It didn’t come. I tell you, I was down at the harbor in Genoa at dawn every single morning, scanning the horizon until I was cross-eyed, but no Star of Genoa. Every night I was there, until it was so dark I couldn’t even see the water. Adam Welles—the earl of Clare—found me one night on my own private hill overlooking the Mediterranean, drinking brandy. I was so drunk, so despairing, I was ready to go down to the wharf in Genoa and bust heads together, a very stupid thing to consider because there are more miscreants down at the dock than you can imagine.
“Adam stood over me, hands on hips, and said, ‘All right, you young fool, enough is enough. If the bloody ship has sunk, you will simply raise money to finance another. Get up or I’ll knock you in the head.'”
“What happened?”
“I got up and jumped on him.”
“You hit him?”
“I surely tried. I wanted to kill him, at least maim him. It was a very good fight, until he got me in the stomach and all that brandy—I thought I was going to die there for a while.”
“What happened?”
“The Star of Genoa arrived in Genoa the following Tuesday afternoon. As I recall, I think I kissed her hull. There’d been a vicious storm just outside of Gibraltar, but she’d managed to survive it. I immediately financed another ship. I’ve lost only one ship in the past three years. I have three ships out right now and, thank God, excellent men in Genoa I trust to oversee things.”
“What did the earl of Clare have to say about the one lost ship?”
“He bought me a case of brandy, said he didn’t want to see a single bottle drunk for at least six months or he’d hit me in the belly again.”
Meggie laughed, she just couldn’t help it even though it made her sure her brains would rattle right out of her head.