Salting the Wound

by Janet Woods

  ‘I’ll be out on the heath tomorrow morning. We could say goodbye then. Can you get there?’

  ‘I’ll come in the dinghy. Keep a look out for me.’ He turned and left, closing the door behind him.

  Seth was relieved to find his sister-in-law relatively unharmed. In her usual uninhibited manner she gave him a hug and chattered on at him.

  ‘Seth, you’ll never guess where I’ve been . . . all the way to Boston and back . . . thank goodness you guessed where I was. Nick was so kind. He gave me his own cabin to sleep in, and just kept the bit with the door and desk to eat his dinner at. Did he tell you about my shoulder, and about the cut on my head? There was a terrific lot of blood. It had to be stitched up and I fainted dead away.’ She didn’t give him time to answer. ‘We sailed into a horrible storm on the way back and I was absolutely terrified. The waves were as high as a house and everything on the ship creaked and groaned as if it was about to split into pieces. Nick was an awful bully when I was discovered in the hold. He threatened to toss me overboard. Of course, he wouldn’t really have done that.’

  ‘You’ll never know how close to it you got on occasion,’ Nick said, making her sound like a child he couldn’t wait to get rid of. ‘A ship is no place for a woman.’

  Seth exchanged a sympathetic smile with the captain. ‘I’m sorry she was such a nuisance.’

  ‘I understand you’ve become a father, Hardy. Congratulations.’

  Seth felt no undercurrent of rancour in Thornton’s handshake, but trod carefully nevertheless. ‘Under the circumstances, that’s kind of you.’

  ‘Under the circumstances it’s a waste of time crying over spilled milk. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t be friends.’

  Seth’s eyes missed nothing in the cabin arrangements, and he saw nothing suspicious. Thornton had simply divided the cabin roughly in half with a canvas wall, to afford Marianne some privacy. It wasn’t ideal, but he didn’t see anything that roused his suspicions under the circumstances. But had to ask. ‘Where did you sleep?’

  ‘I turned and turned about with the first mate. I can send for him if you like.’

  Seth shrugged. ‘I promised Charlotte I’d talk to you, Nick. Do you have the time?’

  ‘Not at the moment. I have cargo to unload, and must pay the crew so they can go ashore. You must allow me to buy you a drink. How about the day after tomorrow in the Crown and Anchor shortly after noon? We can discuss what’s on your mind then?’

  Seth nodded. ‘See you there.’

  Marianne cut in. ‘How are the babies, Seth? I expect they’re grown.’

  He couldn’t hide his smile. ‘They’re a contented pair, and they’re smiling now.’

  ‘And John?’

  ‘He’s missed you, and will be glad to see you back.’

  ‘I bought him a present in Boston to make up for it. It’s a replica of a clipper ship. Oh, yes . . . I’ve just remembered that I had to borrow some money from Nick. I needed something to wear. And I owe him for a new set of clothes he had to buy the cabin boy, since I was forced to borrow his Sunday best trousers and a shirt.’

  ‘You wore trousers?’

  ‘My gown got all bloody from the cut on my head, and none of the seamen wore female clothing that I could borrow. Then when we got to Boston Nick bought me—’

  ‘You needn’t explain any further,’ he said with a grin. ‘Tell me about it on the way home, and I’ll settle up with Captain Thornton tomorrow.’

  His sister-in-law picked up her basket, then her parcel of clothes, which she handed to him to carry along with the model ship. She turned to Nick. ‘Thank you so much for your excellent care of me, Captain Thornton, and thank Sam for looking after me.’

  There was a gleam in his dark eyes. ‘It was my pleasure to be of service to you, Aria. Be careful where you tread on the way out. The deck will be littered with ropes.’

  Various members of the crew waved and called out to her as she left.

  Seth said, ‘Why did Nick Thornton call you Aria?’

  ‘It’s the middle part of my name. He’s always called me that. He’s the only one who does.’

  ‘You like him, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve always liked him. Nick is honest and straightforward.’ When he wasn’t being devious and bossy, and totally adorable she thought, and grinned.

  Ten

  Lying to Charlotte the next morning was harder than Marianne had expected. Charlotte wanted to know every little detail, so Marianne stuck to answering the questions and avoiding the truth.

  ‘I told you. I went on board to take his length of silk back. I was looking at the seagull on top of the mast and I tripped and fell into the hold and was rendered unconscious.’

  ‘You were on top of the mast?’

  She would have been if Nick had allowed her to go up there when they were in Boston, but he’d given her a quelling look and put his foot down with, ‘Definitely not.’

  She grinned. ‘I was on deck with my face tipped up and fell backwards. When I woke we were at sea. My arm had been jerked right out of its socket. It hurt something cruel, and the ship’s cook held me down, while Nick jerked it back in. The pain of it made me cry, and Nick was sorry he’d hurt me, but he said that was the only way it could be done.’

  Charlotte shuddered. ‘Why didn’t Nick bring you back?’

  ‘I wasn’t found until we’d been at sea for two days. He said it was too much bother, and would cost him money.’

  Charlotte frowned. ‘He would have done that on purpose, just to make me worry.’

  Marianne had wondered about that herself, since four days out of his life surely couldn’t have cost the shipping company much. But it didn’t seem to matter now, and she felt compelled to defend him. ‘Nick isn’t as mean as you make him out to be. In fact, he was very kind to me.’

  ‘Oh . . . you don’t really know him, Marianne. He was my friend, not yours. He always considered you to be a nuisance because I had to look after you, which meant that we couldn’t go where we wanted, or do what we wanted.’

  Marianne knew him better than Charlotte would ever imagine, and she churned with longing for him.

  ‘Where did you get the silk from?’

  ‘Nick bought it for you, to make a wedding gown with. He had it with him on that day. When you sent him packing he dropped it.

  Charlotte smiled at the thought. ‘Poor Nick, but it was his own fault. That was ages ago. And you had it all this time without telling me?’

  ‘I didn’t think you’d want it. He told me to keep it when I tried to give it back.’

  ‘It was meant for me in the first place. I can use it to make some garments for the babies.’

  Marianne gasped. ‘It’s expensive silk.’

  ‘I don’t care. Obviously he doesn’t want it back.’

  ‘But Nick gave it to me.’

  ‘It was mine first, besides, what do you want it for? Where is it, in your room?’ She rose. ‘It’s time my babies were fed anyway. You can come up with me if you like.’

  ‘I’ll see them later. I’m going out on the heath. I’ve missed it so.’

  ‘Wear something warm, then. There’s a cold wind coming off the water.’

  Earlier she’d packed a basket with food, and there was ginger beer in an earthenware bottle.

  Marianne gazed out over the harbour, looking for a dinghy as she hurried along the path. The wind whipped colour into her cheeks and her hair unravelled. After several weeks at sea, at first the ground seemed to rise up to meet her feet, but now it was solid beneath them.

  There were one or two small sailboats on the harbour, their sails fattened with wind as they skimmed over the dagger-edged white-crested wavelets. The clouds momentarily thinned out to expose a sun flash from a shiny surface. Nick’s telescope perhaps?

  She waved just in case, taking the precaution to look behind her first to make sure she hadn’t been observed. But she’d left the house behind her. All she could see was part of the roof
and the chimney tops, the fiery dragon’s breath of smoke they exhaled being whipped by the wind and shredded in all directions. Harbour House didn’t feel like her home any more. It belonged to Seth and Charlotte and their children.

  But then, it had always belonged to Charlotte. The house was her sister’s security, and she loved the place with a passion – loved it enough to have sold herself to a complete stranger and break the heart of the man who’d loved her constantly since childhood. And despite Charlotte’s denials, Marianne knew that her sister would have taken Nick as a last resort.

  But Charlotte’s loss had been her gain. Marianne wanted nothing more than to make her home with Nick, wherever that home might be, tossed about on the stormy sea or nestled in the dusty back room of a shop while he made a success of his life in business ashore.

  She began to run along the winding path as the boat began to veer towards the shore, the small company pennant at the mast fluttering. Up ahead was a small inlet that the boat was heading for. They reached the inlet together and he ran the boat up on to the sand, tied the sail against the mast, then attached the dinghy to a gorse bush, which clutched the chalky heath soil with a firm grip. Placing her basket down Marianne hurled herself into his arms, out of breath and laughing, and he held her against his warmth, swung her around, then set her on her feet and soundly kissed her.

  She kissed him back as though she hadn’t seen him for weeks, and realized how hard the next few days would be. She hugged him, loath to let him go. ‘Have you absolutely got to go away?’

  ‘Yes . . . I must. My uncle has been like a father to me. I can’t just walk away from him. The time will soon pass, my love. Then we’ll be together.’

  Her heart leapt at the unconsciously uttered endearment. She was like a bird, pecking up crumbs of scattered affections and gaining sustenance from them.

  When she gazed up at him Marianne knew that she’d fallen in love with him, and a smile touched her lips. She’d give him that thought to take with him. She’d brought it with her, a locket brooch – a miniature of herself as a child of six. It had been a birthday gift, gifted to her by her mother a few weeks before her death. At the back, curled round under the glass was a snip of Marianne’s hair. When the locket was opened an inscription was found inside: her name etched on one side and the words ‘dearly beloved’ on the other.

  She pinned the locket inside his waistcoat pocket and said, ‘There, that’s a keepsake to remember me by.’

  Through the flying strands of her hair he found her scalp and nuzzled a kiss there. ‘You’re impossible to forget, angel.’

  Another crumb, reinforcing the last one. She needed him to love her, but how much time that would take she couldn’t even hazard a guess. In the meantime she’d feast on the crumbs he scattered and gain strength from them until she could have the whole cake.

  ‘Let’s go up to the copse. It’s more sheltered there, and I’ve brought us something to eat,’ she said.

  ‘Good . . . I could eat a skinned cat.’

  ‘I’m afraid I haven’t got a cat. There’s some cold chicken and ham, boiled potatoes, bread, cheese and apple pie. And there’s fresh water in the chalk stream to wash it down with.’

  Her ear was rewarded with his chuckle whispered against it. ‘It sounds like a feast.’ Picking up the basket he took her hand in his and they headed for the privacy of the copse.

  It was dark under the canopy of pines, and the ground was thick with rusty coloured needles, so their footsteps were absorbed into the silence and left no mark on the forest floor. The bracken was brown and ragged, its roots settling into the long sleep until spring, when it would stir to the sun and unfurl triumphant.

  They settled where the undergrowth was thickest, not far from the stream, and they talked and ate. Then when they had finished talking they made love, oblivious to anything but the moment. Afterwards she laid her head against his heart and listened to it beat while he stroked her hair. Then when their tumultuous bodies were once again quiet, he braided her hair again, his fingers flying as he wove the strands in and out.

  ‘There, you’re tidy again,’ he said, then stood and pulled her to her feet. ‘Now I must go, before the tide leaves me stranded.’

  ‘Will I see you again before you go?’

  ‘We shouldn’t risk it if we’re to keep things quiet. The Daisy Jane is on the horizon and I have an appointment with your brother-in-law.’

  ‘Go now and leave me here, because I don’t think I can bear to watch you sail away.’

  He didn’t laugh, though his eyes told her he wanted to, and his mouth fought the tendency to smile. She supposed it was a rather melodramatic statement at that, and she giggled. ‘I feel very furtive meeting you in secret.’

  He laughed, then his lips touched against hers and she closed her eyes, savouring their warm tenderness. When the caress was over he whispered, ‘The day after tomorrow then. Same place.’ She opened her eyes and through her tears, watched him stride away.

  Despite her resolve Marianne did watch from her window when he left harbour. The torn sails had been replaced so they were startling patches of white amongst the grey ones.

  ‘Fair sailing, my darling Nick,’ she whispered, and waved, imagining he was watching her from the deck through his telescope.

  Daisy Jane had arrived the previous day. She was a larger ship than the Samarand. As a result she carried more crew and was licensed to carry passengers as well as cargo. Marianne was heartened by the thought that Nick would have had time to speak to his uncle about his future plans, and once he returned he would be home for good. Then they could begin married life with everything above board. She wondered if he’d mentioned her to his uncle. And she began to count the days until he returned.

  Erasmus Thornton was not happy with Nick. They had argued, and for once Erasmus had come out the loser.

  He said to his sister, ‘This time I couldn’t change his mind. He’s hell-bent on having his own way.’

  Daisy looked up from the shirt she was patching. ‘I don’t know why you’re sounding so peevish. Nick has always made his feelings about the issue clear.’

  ‘He’s a born seaman, and I can trust him with the Samarand, though he cost me two sails this time.’

  She snorted. ‘I’m surprised you can trust him to the ship. Samarand has always been more trouble than she was worth.’

  ‘She’s a cantankerous bitch that needs nursing. Nick knows how to do that. I picked her up cheap, and she’s brought in a healthy profit over the years. Nick’s going to train the first mate to take her over this run.’

  ‘He told me that the man scraped bottom bringing her in.’

  ‘Touch and go often happens. The harbour is shallow, the tide was on the ebb and he was carrying more cargo than he should have been. Nick should have berthed her himself.’

  The Thornton shipping company had been a legacy from their father, and had consisted of two aging packets, long since disposed of. Daisy had been left the house, which she’d been given charge of at the age of fifteen, taking the place of their mother, who’d died from typhoid. The men in the family had always come and gone, and she looked after them when they were in port and kept an eye on the accounts and their shore agent when they were not.

  ‘You know, Erasmus, you never gave Nick a chance to be anything else but a seaman.’

  ‘I didn’t know any other trade. But a shopkeeper . . . My God!’

  She laughed. ‘Ah, but it’s to be a grand shop, Erasmus. Nick doesn’t do anything by halves. You can’t say he didn’t give you enough warning. You’ll get used to it, and perhaps he’s met a woman he wants to settle down with.’

  Erasmus snorted. ‘After he got his fingers burned with the Honeyman girl? He won’t repeat that in a hurry.’

  Brother and sister were alike. Erasmus was of medium height, wiry and muscled. His face was weathered from a lifetime at sea. Daisy’s face was smoother, but the Thornton features sat less easily on her and she was straightforwa
rd in her manner. Her body was thin and angular and her hair as straight and grey as a yard of pump water. She was clever for a woman, too, something her brother and Nick appreciated, but other men did not. She kept her house, went to church under protest and occupied herself with charitable causes when her men folk were away at sea.

  Daisy would have liked to have wed and had a family of her own when she was younger. Erasmus had shown no interest in settling down though. He’d told her that Nick was their nephew, the son of their half-brother Dickon, when he’d brought him home, a thin, undernourished brat who’d grabbed his food from the table like a starving rat. He’d taken it to a corner, where he’d turned his back on them and stuffed it into his mouth.

  Considering that Erasmus had come ashore with Nick, and the boy only spoke a few words, none of which were English, she suspected that he’d belonged to the Greek woman Dickon had been involved with.

  When she’d asked, he’d said, ‘Aye, that’s right. His name is Nicholas. He was being badly treated by the Greek woman’s new husband and her stepsons. She begged me to take him in and bring him up.’

  ‘You fool Erasmus, he’s not your responsibility,’ she’d told him.

  ‘Aye, he is. He’s a Thornton.’

  Even in her spinsterhood Daisy was well aware of her brother’s foibles. People gossiped. And although the Honeyman affair had been hushed up, she’d heard that a daughter had been the possible result of his liaison with her. The child had died at birth with the mother, and Erasmus had been devastated. Daisy had heard a rumour long after, that the girl had lived, but had been fostered through the orphanage run by a Honeyman relative. She hadn’t told her brother that, otherwise he’d have made it his business to find out.

  Erasmus was fond of Nick. So was she. But he’d been a headstrong boy, and wild at times. She’d had to discipline him more often than she’d liked when he was growing up. Thus he’d learned to respect her. She was relieved that the eldest Honeyman girl had turned him down. She’d never taken to Charlotte. Still, Daisy was hopeful that Nick would marry. If he came ashore, that would be a step in the right direction.