As weariness crept over Josiah, he gave himself up to those around him. He closed his eyes vowing to celebrate cheating death in a watery grave by marrying Charlotte Hatton.
***
As Mr Hatton battered his congregation into spiritual submission with the closing arguments of his sermon, Josiah leant back and stretched his legs.
The rector had excelled himself today. Not only was his exposition of the scriptures longer than usual but also a great deal more tedious. For once Josiah did not mind one little bit because sitting only fifty yards from him, dressed in a becoming dark-ruby gown that drew his eyes to every dip and curve of her figure, was Charlotte Hatton.
It was two weeks since the accident and after spending ten days in St Thomas’s Hospital at the company’s expense, coughing up phlegm and fighting a fever, the doctors had pronounced him fit. Armstrong had sent him home to recuperate, so between visits to the company chop shop and walking by the river, Josiah had had plenty of time to formulate exactly what he was going to say to Charlotte.
Mr Hatton pummelled the pulpit rail for the last time and then the organist brought the congregation to their feet. The rector, with his robes flowing behind, proceeded out of the church with the choir close behind him.
Josiah rose and advanced down the aisle towards Charlotte, who was still standing in the clergy pew.
As he approached, she turned and smiled. The narrow brim of her simple straw bonnet perfectly framed her face. The light from above showed her unblemished complexion and brought out the auburn of her hair.
‘Good morning, Miss Hatton,’ he said, fighting the urge to take her in his arms there and then.
‘Oh, Mr Martyn, I am so pleased to see you looking so well this morning. I trust you received my note.’
He nodded, thinking how often he had read her letter in the past three days while dreaming of its sender. ‘Thank you, it was most kind.’
‘But you have recovered?’
‘I’m none the worst for my dunking.’ He glanced around. ‘I don’t see Captain Paget this morning.’
‘Mrs Paget has a chill and Nicolas is caring for her.’ She stooped down to pick up her basket, but Josiah caught the hooped handle.
‘Let me,’ he said, raising it effortlessly. ‘Where are you taking it?’
‘West Lane.’
‘That’s at the far end of the parish,’ Josiah replied. ‘Why don’t I accompany you?’
‘I would enjoy the company, if it’s not too much trouble,’ she said.
‘None at all and my pleasure,’ he said, falling into step beside her.
As she moved in front of him over the black and white tiles towards the door, Josiah caught the faint smell of violets. The congregation still filled the aisle so he took Charlotte’s elbow to guide her into the warm sunshine.
Leaving the churchyard, they strolled along Church Street towards the south of the parish.
The local women were taking advantage of both the day of rest and the sunshine by dragging out chairs onto the pavement and were knitting and chatting in the balmy summer sun while their offspring kicked stones and chased each other.
‘I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you looking so hail and hearty after such a dreadful experience,’ she said, glancing shyly up at him from under her bonnet. ‘When I arrived at the yard and heard you were still at the bottom of the shaft, I feared the worst.’
The memory of her anxious face so close to his as she’d wrapped him in a blanket materialised in Josiah’s mind. ‘It nearly was,’ he replied, as they reached the end of Church Street and turned into Paradise Road.
Josiah told her the full story as they made their way over Mill Pond Bridge and took the towpath towards the squat alms houses on West Lane, not finishing until they reached a crab apple tree by the footbridge.
‘My goodness,’ she said, when he’d finished. ‘You must have thought you were going to die.’
‘I did, but floundering in the icy water also gave me clarity,’
‘About what?’
‘About my life and—’ he cleared his throat. ‘And you, Miss Hatton.’
Her lovely eyes flew open wide. ‘Me?’
‘Yes, you, Charlotte,’ he said, looking deep into her brown eyes. ‘As the water closed over me I thought of only you and how much I love you.’
A flush coloured her cheeks. ‘Mr Martyn, I…I…’
‘Forgive my presumption,’ he continued, feeling a lump forming in the pit of stomach. ‘I know your affections are engaged elsewhere, but I—’
‘No, they are not. My affections, I mean,’ she cut in. ‘They are not engaged anywhere. Well, they are but not where you think because,’ she gave a shy smile. ‘Because, I love you too, Josiah.’
He stared at her. ‘You do?’
She nodded.
Josiah took her in his arms. ‘Marry me?’
Her hands rested on his chest and Josiah felt their soft touch in every part of his body.
‘Oh, Josiah, I want to but—’
He stopped her words with his lips.
She hesitated for a movement, then her mouth opened under his and excitement raced through him.
After a long moment he lifted his mouth from her. ‘Say yes.’
‘It’s not that simple,’ she replied, breathlessly. ‘My father—’
Josiah lowered his mouth onto hers again briefly.
‘I’ll speak to him,’ he said, ‘I have a salary of fifty pounds a year so I’m more than able to support a wife and home—’
‘I am afraid, Josiah, my father will not see things as you and I do…’ She bit her lower lip.
‘I’ll not be ashamed of who I am,’ he told her flatly.
‘Nor should you be.’ Charlotte grasped his arms.
‘Then let’s elope,’ he said.
She looked alarmed.
‘I know it’s a lot to take in, bu—’
‘Could we just wait?’ she cut in. ‘Perhaps just for a few months so I might have a chance to persuade my father to look on you more favourably.’
Josiah didn’t think that at all likely but with her in his arms at last, he certainly didn’t want to talk about her father.
‘Charlotte.’ He drew her back into his embrace. ‘You might, from this day, consider yourself engaged—’
‘Secretly engaged,’ she added. ‘To become Mrs Josiah Martyn.’
He kissed her briefly. ‘I love you.’
‘And I love you,’ she replied. ‘But whatever happens, Josiah, for both our sakes my father must not find out.’
Chapter sixteen
The sun was just skimming the roofs of the houses in Mill Pond Lane as the end of the working day drew to a close. As always, as the main route from Kent into London, the road was crammed with loaded wagons with strong-boned horses between the shaft. Men with handcarts piled high with produce from the market gardens around Deptford dodged between the plodding beasts while young women leading milk cows to sell milk on the capital’s doorstep walked towards London’s only crossing, London Bridge. As the mail coach heading to Dover thundered past, Josiah spotted Charlotte in the melee as she hurried towards the bridge.
In her china-blue gown with her mother’s crucifix at her throat, it struck Josiah yet again just how utterly beautiful the woman he loved was. Each time he saw her sitting across from him in church it was a wonder he didn’t just stride across, take her in his arms, kiss her and damn the consequences. Standing away from the low wall he was leaning against, Josiah dodged between the wagons as they passed back and forth along the street.
As he hurried across the road she spotted him and smiled.
‘Mr Martyn,’ she said, as she curtsied.
He lifted his hat. ‘Miss Hatton.’
Glancing up the busy street, he took her elbow and guided her down the side of the Embankment.
As the shadow of a stone arch enclosed them, Josiah took her into his arms. Without hesitation she moulded herself into him, sending a heat of a d
ifferent kind coursing through him.
She looked up, her brown eyes enormous in the dark of the bridge.
‘I’m sorry I’m late, I was detained—’
He stopped her words by pressing his mouth onto hers, savouring the softness of her in his arms and under his lips.
After a long moment, he reluctantly released her.
‘My goodness, Charlotte, four weeks!’ he said, his arms tightening around her further.
‘I know,’ she said, placing her hand on his chest and firing him further.
‘Without so much as being alone with you, never mind anything else.’ He took her face in his hands. ‘I don’t think I can stand another week without you, let alone another year.’
She sighed. ‘I feel the same, Josiah, but—’
‘Then let’s elope as I said before,’ he said, willing her to agree. ‘I have money enough to get us over the Scottish border—’
‘Oh, Josiah,’ she said, looking sadly at him.
He took hold of her upper arms. ‘It’s four days by mail coach to Gretna and if we left in a day or two by this time next week we’d be man and wife. My darling, why not?’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘You know why?’
‘Your father,’ he said, flatly.
She nodded.
Blowing hard, Josiah let go of her.
‘He’ll never change his mind,’ he said, raking his fingers through his hair.
‘He might,’ said Charlotte. ‘I know he can seem a little unfeeling at times, but he is my father and I would like to have his blessing.’
She didn’t sound too certain. But he was.
He was completely certain that Judgment Day would come and go before Charlotte’s father would ever give his consent to a lowly son of a miner marrying his daughter.
Damping down the irritation he always felt when talking of the rector of St Mary’s, Josiah took her hands.
‘But what if he doesn’t, sweetheart?’
‘Then we will elope,’ said Charlotte.
‘But when?’ asked Josiah, gathering her back into his arms. ‘Surely you’re not still proposing we wait until the tunnel’s finished, are you?’ he said. ‘I mean the date’s been set back twice already since we started and it isn’t generally known but on present progress Isambard has given the board a new estimated completion date of summer 1830.’ He pressed his lips onto hers again. ‘Honestly, Charlotte, I want to marry you a lot sooner than that.’
Charlotte lifted her head and looked up at him. ’I don’t want to wait five years either.’ She gave him a shy smile.
Josiah’s chest swelled and, leaning back against the brickwork of the bridge, he spread his legs a little wider and drew her into the space between, enjoying the sensation of her legs pressed against his. Laying her hands on his chest she rested in his embrace then tilted her head back and smiled.
Josiah obliged her by closing his mouth over hers for a long moment, then he released her lips.
‘When?’
‘It’s September in three weeks, midsummer’s day in a month. I promise if I can’t bring my father around to giving his consent by Christmas then...’ She gave him a resigned smile. ‘We’ll run away in the New Year and get married.’
‘Oh, Charlotte.’ He lowered his head to kiss her again, but she held him off.
‘But we still have to be very careful,’ she said, ’and not just of my father finding out but of Mrs Palmer. If she discovers our secret I know she’ll make trouble for both of us. And,’ Charlotte bit her lip. ‘I’ve seen the way she looks at you, Josiah, so...’
Running his index finger along her cheek, he smiled.
‘Don’t worry, I’ve met women like Mrs Palmer before, and I know how to deal with them.’ He drew her closer, the feel of her in his arms fired him afresh. ‘I wish we were man and wife now.’
‘It’s only six months.’ She slipped her hands up and around his neck. ‘And you’re not the only one, Josiah Martyn, wishing the days away.’
She gave him a sideward look that jolted his groin.
Holding her into his chest with one arm, he let his free hand slide down the small of her back and anchor her hips against his.
He gazed down at her upturned face filled with love, his groin tightening at the desire in her eyes. Then he captured her mouth again. Although it was much better than five years, with Charlotte’s soft body fitting perfectly into his, six months and three weeks was still too long to wait to make her his wife.
***
Charlotte opened the front door and took off her bonnet, placing it on a hook on the coat stand.
Although Sarah should have been waiting for her, it suited Charlotte to have a moment to calm herself unseen. Having just spent half an hour under the bridge in Josiah’s arms, she must have the thrill of it written all over her face.
She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and ran her fingertips over her lips. With Josiah’s mouth pressed onto hers and feeling his steady heart beat under her hand, she could for a short while forget everything else, including her father.
Of course, their meetings were fraught with danger because she was known to all in the parish.
He’d gone back to Cow Yard after they parted to deal with some problem or another. She only hoped that whatever it was, given that he’d spent every waking hour for the past two weeks underground, he would be able to sleep in his own bed that night.
In fact, despite the fine sunshine that had bathed the whole of London from the start of May, Josiah had spent so much time underground that his skin was sallow.
However it was clear that after three months of stolen meetings and hurried kisses that, although it pained her deeply to break the fifth commandment, she feared the time was coming when she would have to defy her father and elope with Josiah.
Starting towards the kitchen to see how Mrs Norris was progressing with supper, Charlotte had just reached the scullery stairs when the study door opened, and the cook stepped out. A smirk flashed across her face then she lowered her eyes and hurried away.
‘Charlotte!’ her father bellowed.
‘Yes, Father,’ she replied, entering the room.
Her father stood with his back to the empty fire grate, his hands pulled tightly behind his back and his face a patchwork of reds and purples.
‘What’s wrong, Father?’
‘Wrong! I’ll tell you what’s wrong,’ he barked. ‘Immorality, that’s what’s wrong. Wickedness and depravity taking place behind my back.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, feeling her mouth go dry.
‘I mean that I have been most wickedly deceived.’ He shook his head.
‘Father, I—’
‘To think I have given succour to such wantonness,’ Mr Hatton cut in. ‘The shame of it!’
‘I think wantonness is a little strong,’ she told him firmly, wondering who it was who had told her father of her and Josiah.
Mr Hatton’s neck flushed deeper. ‘Do you? Do you indeed? Well what about lewd, debauched and sinful, eh? Do you think they better describe what has occurred?’
‘If you would let me just explain,’ she said, marshalling her courage.
He frowned. ‘Explain? What do you know of Sarah’s condition?’
‘Sarah?’
Her father gave her an exasperated look. ‘Yes, Sarah, who we took in from the workhouse as an act of Christian charity and who has now repaid us by getting herself with child.’
‘Are you sure?’ she asked.
‘Mrs Norris noticed that Sarah had been unwell each morning for the past week. She confronted her and the girl broke down and confessed everything. Mrs Norris brought the matter to me two hours ago.’
‘She should have spoken to me,’ Charlotte said.
‘She would have but you were out,’ her father replied. ‘Naturally, concerned for my reputation, Mrs Norris felt the matter needed immediate attention, and I agree.’ His eyes bulged again. ‘And do you know who the man is who fathered th
is bastard child?’
The image of Sarah in Ezra’s arms flashed through Charlotte’s mind as she shook her head. Her heart sunk.
‘Ezra Martyn.’ Mr Hatton continued without waiting for her reply, his nostrils flared. ‘Brother to that jumped-up navvy you are always recommending to me.’
Charlotte’s shoulders sagged.
‘Base-born knaves, both of them,’ her father bellowed. ‘But blood will eventually out.’
‘What are we to do?’
He blinked at her. ‘Do? I would have thought it was obvious. She is upstairs packing her things this minute.’
‘You’re not throwing her out,’ Charlotte told him.
‘What a stupid question,’ he replied, puffing out his chest and straining the buttons on his waistcoat. ‘Of course I am.’
‘No, Father,’ Charlotte said, firmly. ‘Although I don’t condone what’s happened I’m telling you you’re not throwing her out.’
Mr Hutton’s colicky hue darkened further.
‘How dare you defy me!’ He jabbed a finger at her. ‘I’m your father and it’s your duty, duty, do you hear, to obey me? I have the reputation of my office and name to uphold.’
Charlotte turned. ‘I know what my duty is to you, Father, but I must look to the gospel of St John, chapter four where our Lord meets the sinful Samaritan woman by the well and comforted her himself.’ She gave him a sweet smile. ‘Perhaps we should follow that particular text in this situation? I assure you I will ensure the situation will be resolved within the month without any stain on your reputation, if we are discreet. Now, if you would excuse me, I’m going to talk to Sarah.’
***
The sun was just dipping below the roof tops as Josiah flicked the damp hair out of his eyes as he left the washhouse. He shrugged on his jacket and stepped out into cobbled street. All around him men who had taken advantage of the washing facilities provided by the Thames Tunnel company, started their trudge homeward. St Mary’s clock chimed five, and a smile spread across Josiah’s lips. Although he’d only seen Charlotte a few short hours ago, he was already counting the minutes until Sunday. He tried to convince himself that just seeing her would be enough to sustain him until he held her again, but he knew nothing would be enough until she was his wife. Thankfully, that day was fast approaching.
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