He jumped up from his chair and turned away from the circle of firelight and candlelight. She could see his hands, his whole body was trembling, but he spoke steadily. ‘If he summons me I will have to go.’

‘It will be the death of you!’ Elizabeth exclaimed passionately. ‘You cannot be so lucky every time!’

‘It will be the death of thousands,’ he said darkly. ‘Whether we take the island or lose it, it will be the death of thousands. I cannot face that place again. That tiny island is like a graveyard … I cannot bear it!’

Abruptly he turned back to Jane. ‘Does your father say why any man would want to go back there? What the duke is hoping for?’

She was pale, looking from John to Elizabeth. She thought she had never seen him in such distress before. It was as if he feared being pressganged into Hell. ‘I will read you the rest of the letter,’ she replied, smoothing it on her lap.

‘… the duke is to take another campaign to Rhé to wipe out the disgrace of failure and to show the French that we mean to be masters. No men are volunteering, but the pressgangs are making the streets unsafe for everyone except for those actually dying of the plague. Everyone else is taken up and sent to Portsmouth and they are cursing the duke’s name.

These are hard times for us all. I pray that your husband and your father-in-law are spared the duke’s demands. I have today lost my apprentice boy George whom I loved like a son. He will never survive a campaign, he has a weak chest and coughs all the winter long. Why take a lad of sixteen who will be dead before they reach their destination? Why take a boy who only knows about cotton, linen, and silk?

I am going to Portsmouth myself to see if I can find him and bring him back but your mother says, rightly, that we must tell his parents that he is as good as dead and pray for his immortal soul.

It is a bitter thing that a country which could be at peace is constantly at war, and that a country which could be prosperous is never well-fed.

I am sorry to send you such bad news, my blessings on you all, Josiah Hurte.’

‘I will go in your stead,’ J said steadily. ‘When he sends for you.’

‘He may not send …’ Elizabeth suggested.

‘He always sends for my father when it is work that needs a trustworthy man,’ J said swiftly. ‘When it is dangerous or difficult, when he needs a man who loves him above everything else. A man to do work that no-one else would do.’

John shot him a look.

‘It’s true,’ J maintained. ‘And he will send for you again.’

‘You cannot go,’ Elizabeth breathed. ‘The mission is bound to fail again and you will risk your life for nothing.’