Salting the Wound

by Janet Woods

  As they made their way to the cabin she said, ‘I realize that being on board ship isn’t ideal for a woman, but it’s my own fault I’m here. You’re doing your best, and I appreciate that, Nick. I’m sorry to put you to so much trouble.’

  ‘What will you tell your sister when you get home?’

  She shrugged. ‘I’ve put off thinking about it. Probably the truth.’

  ‘You think Charlotte will believe it?’

  He sensed rather than saw her grimace. ‘To be honest, I imagine she’ll blame you, and be furious with me. We’ll both get a tongue lashing I expect.’

  He chuckled. ‘Perhaps she’ll really shoot me this time.’

  ‘Me as well.’

  ‘You know that people will talk about us, Aria. Whatever is said, it’s not going to be believed. I’m a man so I can get away with it, but it’s your reputation that will be ruined.’

  She looked troubled for a moment, then forced a wry smile to her face. ‘You shouldn’t make it your concern, Nick. It’s not your fault.’

  ‘I’m well aware of that.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I’ll try and think of something.’

  ‘What?’

  He laughed as he opened the cabin door. Sam had lit the lantern, and it swung back and forth making the shadows interchangeable with the light so it was a constantly shifting scene. ‘Give me time . . . throw you overboard and pretend I never set eyes on you, perhaps.’

  He was rewarded by a peal of laughter that brought a wide grin to his face. Perhaps he’d wed her, because he was pretty sure that Lucian Beresford wouldn’t.

  Charlotte was frantic with worry. ‘I don’t understand it, Seth. I know Marianne called on the Beresfords because she left a calling card. She couldn’t just disappear.’

  ‘Perhaps she was invited to stay with friends.’

  ‘She would have let me know. Besides, she’s been gone for several days now and she would have needed her clothes.’

  Seth shrugged. ‘I’ve informed the authorities, and they’re making enquiries. She was seen by several people on that day, heading towards the quay. They have a list of ships that left the harbour. The crews will be questioned the next time they berth, if she doesn’t turn up in the meantime.’

  ‘Most roads lead towards the quay. That doesn’t mean Marianne has sailed off on a ship.’

  ‘That’s only one line of enquiry. She might have eloped to Gretna Green.’

  ‘Why would she do that when she was enamoured with Lucian Beresford?’

  ‘Perhaps she’s eloped with him.’

  Smiling at the thought, Charlotte said, ‘If she had it would be a blessing. But he doesn’t seem as interested in her as she is in him. She spends too much time out on the heath. I hope she hasn’t taken it into her head to travel with the gypsies. What makes you think that she eloped?’

  Seth sighed. ‘I don’t think that. It’s just that we’ve been over and over this and I’m running out of ideas. The clay diggers are going to search the heath later on in case she fell into one of the bogs.’

  Placing her hands over her ears Charlotte gave a little scream. ‘Don’t even think such an awful thing. Besides, Marianne knows the dangers of the heath like the back of her hand.’

  John came in and tugged at Seth’s hand to claim his attention. ‘Is Aunt Marianne coming home? She said she’d help me with the jigsaw puzzle.’

  Seth smiled down at his stepson. ‘Of course she’s coming home. Try not to worry, John. Marianne might have decided to visit friends for a while.’

  Jessica began to stir. John moved to her cradle and gazed down at her. ‘She doesn’t look squashed any more, but her hair is a funny colour.’ He moved on to Major Mitchell, grinning at him, then at Seth. ‘Can I touch him, Pa?’

  ‘If that’s all right with you, Charlotte?’

  She nodded. ‘I’m going to get up. I can’t lie around in bed all day, especially when I’m so worried about Marianne. You don’t think that someone has kidnapped her, do you? What if someone demands a ransom?’

  Seth took her by the shoulders. ‘I think they would have let us know by now.’

  ‘What if she’s been stolen? She might have been sold into slavery or something worse.’

  ‘Enough, Charlotte. I’m sure she’ll turn up before too long and have a perfectly reasonable explanation. She might have banged her head and forgotten who she is.’

  She stared at him for a minute, then whispered, ‘Do you think it possible that Nick Thornton has taken her prisoner out of revenge? She might have fallen overboard and drowned. We’d never know.’

  John had been listening to every word, and now gazed at Charlotte, his eyes wide and confused. ‘Aunt Marianne won’t drown because she can swim, and was teaching me how to swim too.’ He gazed from one to the other. ‘I’m not supposed to tell anyone because ladies aren’t supposed to be able to swim and she goes in her petticoat and I’m not supposed to tell anyone about that either because she said that everyone is fuddy-duddy about such things and it will cause an awful stink. But I’ve looked where we usually swim and her boots, skirt and bodice isn’t where she usually leaves them. She won’t get into trouble, will she?’

  Seth grinned and shook his head.

  Charlotte’s expression of surprise was followed by one of shock. ‘I didn’t know Marianne could swim. And in her underwear!’

  John persisted with his own theory. ‘Anyway, if Aunt Marianne fell overboard she’d have swum to an island and become a castaway, like Robinson Crusoe. She might be castaway on Brownsea island, Pa.’ His eyes widened even more, ‘And Pa, there’s a ghost living there.’

  ‘I’m sure your aunt could manage a ghost, especially in her underwear.’ Seth chuckled at the thought. ‘And I do think that your imaginations are getting the better of both of you. But it won’t hurt to go over to the island and search it, if it will put your mind at rest. I’ll ask the revenue men to do that.’

  ‘John, go and eat your breakfast, else you’ll be going to school hungry. Charlotte, I know staying in bed when you don’t feel ill is tedious. I also know that if I tell you to stay in bed that you’ll rise as soon as my back is turned.’

  She gave a little smile, but he hadn’t finished.

  ‘By risking your own health you could jeopardize the health of our infants, who mostly rely on you for their sustenance. Dr Beresford said the lying in period should be at least three weeks. If you show no sign of fever you can take some exercise every day then. And I’m going to ask the wet nurse to stay on as nursery maid.’

  ‘Without asking me?’

  ‘You’d expressed satisfaction with her, Charlotte. You told me yourself that you’re unable to feed the children sufficiently. I’ve talked it over with Doctor Beresford, and am acting under his advice.’

  ‘But I wanted to feed them myself, Seth. I wanted to feel close to them.’ They were precious to her, part of her heart. She’d never expected to feel such love for her children. It was different to what she felt for John, or even Marianne. Their birth had brought her closer to Seth, for it was something they shared.

  ‘I know. But it seems that you can’t, and the welfare of our children must be put before our own needs. They will still love you, Charlotte. You’re their mother, and you’ll always put their welfare first.’

  She gritted her teeth. Trust Seth to appeal to her conscience. Even so, what he’d said was true. Another week wouldn’t do her any harm, and it would be a lesson in patience, a grace she knew she was sadly lacking. ‘I promise to behave myself, and I will feed them myself, you’ll see. Are you going to the clay pits?’

  ‘I’m going to join the clay men in searching the heath after I’ve dropped John off at school.’

  ‘Make sure you don’t get lost yourself. I’d miss you.’

  He grinned and kissed her cheek. ‘Thank you for those encouraging words, are there any other instructions?’

  ‘Yes,’ and her smile faded. ‘If you see the gypsies let them know that Marianne is missing. Ask t
hem to keep watch for her, though I imagine they’ll know by now. Marianne is friendly with some of them, too friendly at times, but they trust her and they’ll keep a watch out for her. We could offer a reward.’

  ‘That’s a good idea. I’ll think on it.’

  ‘And, Seth . . .?’ she said when he reached the door. ‘If you see the gypsy called Jessica . . . you could ask her . . .’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t really believe it myself, but Marianne told me that the woman can see into the future.’

  Seth didn’t laugh, as she’d expected him to. ‘Then I’ll ask her if she can throw some light on Marianne’s disappearance. Is that what you want?’

  She nodded.

  Seth was more worried about his sister-in-law than he’d let on to Charlotte. Later, he strode off at a pace designed to cover a lot of ground quickly, his gaze on the cart track that sent chalky dust powdering his highly polished brown boots.

  Marianne was impulsive as well as gullible. Charlotte had assumed the responsibility of her younger sister from too young an age, and she now found it hard to relinquish that grip.

  It was natural that Marianne would resent that, especially now, with her sister’s attention being claimed by their own children. But Marianne usually had an open and sunny disposition, and she loved Charlotte. Seth seriously doubted that she’d have run off without a word. She wasn’t that thoughtless.

  Unless she’d fallen in love, he thought, watching the path come up to meet his feet as he headed for the arranged meeting place. That particular emotion tended to leave one bereft of sense or reason. Why else would he have provided for Mary . . . a woman whose fate had been sealed the moment she’d been forced to live on the streets. Starving to death to maintain a perceived respectability might have been the preferred option in the eyes of many, but it was hypocritical, unless they were willing to provide an alternative way of living for the victim.

  But that was something John would never learn. Mary hadn’t possessed the coarseness and the determination to survive that a common whore needed. She’d been delicate, courageous and loving. He’d found her with her son in her arms, standing on the side of the river in utter despair, trying to pluck up courage to end it all for both of them.

  Seth had just been informed of his legacy. Compassion had made him share that good fortune, and provide them with a home while he arranged to sell his commission. Little by little he’d learned her story of the shipboard romance, of the idealistic husband who was talented, but who didn’t have the practical skills to earn enough to keep them. He’d never probed further.

  When they’d exchanged vows over the bible, with nobody to witness the ceremony, she’d been grateful that he’d given her back some respectability. Seth had never made any claim on her body because she’d needed to conserve the little strength she had to provide her son with nourishment. For that small concession, as well as the roof over her head in a small isolated cottage he’d rented, she was grateful. There, he’d looked after her until her strength had given out, allowing her some time to watch her son begin to grow and flourish. In the process he’d fallen in love with her. He’d wept as he’d buried her next to the husband she’d loved.

  ‘Promise me you’ll look after John, you’re the only father he’s ever known,’ Mary had whispered with her dying breath. And he’d promised, for by then her will had been made and witnessed, and he regarded the child as his own.

  Charlotte reminded him of Mary. She had the same courage and pride, though not Mary’s soft helplessness and vulnerability. He didn’t love Charlotte, but he had a healthy regard for her. She’d been resigned to submit to her wifely duties when he’d brought her to bed, ending up surprised that the physical part of the relationship could be participated in with enjoyment. She’d not been too shy to admit it. Charlotte was a good manager, sensible and intelligent. Mary’s child, as well as his own, would have a good mother.

  Deep in thought he came to a sudden halt as he nearly walked into somebody in his path. ‘I beg your pardon.’ He doffed his hat when he saw a skirt and his heart leapt.

  But when he raised his gaze it wasn’t Marianne, it was a gypsy woman.

  ‘Cross my palm with silver and I’ll tell your fortune, soldier.’

  She had a careworn, secretive face and her outstretched hand was mapped with lines. He knew who she was and he smiled. ‘You must be Jessica.’

  ‘That I am.’

  ‘Then I have you to thank for helping my wife safely deliver our babies.’

  ‘Your missus wouldn’t have had any trouble. There will be two more sons for her in the future.’

  He dropped a shilling into her palm. ‘I’ll gladly cross your palm with silver for telling me that, but the fortune-telling can wait. I’m on a mission. I’m looking for my sister-in-law, Marianne Honeyman.’

  When he moved to one side to step around her, the gypsy moved to block him, and her eyes took on a distant look. ‘The girl is far away now and you won’t find her on the heath. She fell down into the darkness . . . and is surrounded by water.’

  His heart thumped. ‘Are you saying she’s drowned?’

  ‘No, sir, she is not dead. There’s a man.’

  ‘A man?’ Tall, dark and handsome, he supposed, giving a wry grin. Instantly he thought of Nick Thornton. He shook his head. Thornton was no fool. In fact, the man and his ideas had impressed him when they’d met on a social level. Thornton wouldn’t invite trouble like Marianne into his life so blatantly.

  The gypsy detained him with a hand on his arm. ‘Listen to your instinct, soldier. Miss Marianne won’t be harmed, but she’ll come back, changed.’

  She was talking nonsense. ‘Sorry, I haven’t got time to listen to this, Jessica. If you see my sister-in-law tell her that Charlotte is worried sick, and she’s to go straight home.’

  Seth pushed past her and picked up speed. He’d gone several yards when there was a whisper against his ear, as if the gypsy was right next to him. ‘Beware, soldier, there’s a hunter with a cage behind you.’

  He slewed around, his hand reaching for his pistol, and goose bumps crackling on his body. There was nothing behind him except the track. Even the gypsy had somehow blended into the landscape.

  A hunter with a cage, she’d said. What the devil had the woman been talking about?

  For a moment the sun faded, as though the molten gold light of morning had become tarnished. The air grew quiet and menacing, the water in the harbour was still. Then a seagull screamed, and the day brightened again.

  Giving a little shiver Seth continued on his way. Finding Marianne seemed a little less urgent now.

  Seven

  Colonel Hardy’s trail hadn’t been too hard to follow. He’d disembarked from his ship in London three years previously, had travelled to Edinburgh then moved into the house left to him by his mother’s cousin until probate had been finalized. In fact, Hardy still owned the house, though it was now leased out to the family of a minister of the church, who was negotiating a purchase price.

  From there, Adam Chapman was guided toward the solicitor who’d acted on Seth’s behalf in the matter, and who had administered his relative’s will.

  Alistair Matheson gazed at Adam’s card, then at the young man himself. A pair of sharp grey eyes met his. ‘A detecting agency, is it? What exactly is your business with me?’

  ‘I’m looking for a gentleman who goes under the name of Seth Hardy, former army Colonel. I’m given to understand that he’s a client of yours.’

  ‘Are you, then.’ The solicitor tapped the card on the desk. ‘I’m afraid I cannot help you.’

  ‘Cannot, or will not?’

  ‘My dear Mr . . .’ and he gazed at the card. ‘Chapman? Will not, because I have no proof that you are who you say you are – whom you are working for, or why you are working for them. And cannot, because of ethical considerations. My client’s business is his own. No solicitor worth his salt would hand over information that should be properly kept confidential.’

 
‘Even when that client has broken the law?’

  ‘In what way has Colonel Hardy broken the law, sir?’

  ‘It concerns a child, one John Charles Barrie, who he took into his care without the permission of the child’s grandfather. You may have seen the notice I placed in the papers inquiring on his whereabouts.’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’

  Adam took a letter of introduction from his satchel and laid it on the desk. ‘I’m representing Justice Sir Charles Barrie in this matter, who is the boy’s grandfather and his only blood kin. The boy is also his heir.’

  Shock came into the solicitor’s eyes. ‘Is there a warrant out for the Colonel’s arrest? If there is that will be a different matter altogether.’

  ‘No, sir, there is not. Judge Barrie is concerned that the man might flee abroad with the boy, should he get wind of the search.’

  ‘And if he sees the notices.’

  ‘That’s a risk we had to take, in the hope that the offer of a reward will prove to be effective.’

  ‘A reward, you say. May I ask the sum involved?’

  ‘It’s a substantial one.’

  Opening the letter Alistair Matheson scrutinized it, drumming his fingers on the desk. The smile he gave was shrewd. ‘I’d like to confer with a colleague on this matter. Can you return next week, Mr Chapman?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. I have another line of enquiry to pursue and I depart tomorrow.’

  Matheson wasn’t easily fooled. He raised an eyebrow, said, ‘Another line of enquiry, is it? I wish you luck with it, sir. May I enquire what that line is?’

  An out and out lie was sometimes justified. ‘I have the address of someone Colonel Hardy soldiered with. They returned to England on the same ship.’

  ‘Ah, I see.’ The old man gave a faint smile. ‘I have to say that I never saw the Colonel with a young boy, and neither did he mention one. Our relationship was one of business, and I found the man to be a little standoffish, if truth be told. I had very little to do with him, in fact, and he discouraged personal interaction between us.’

  Something that rankled by the sound of it, Adam thought.