Salting the Wound

by Janet Woods

  When everyone got off he said to the conductor. ‘Where’s the railway station?’

  When the conductor jerked his thumb, John set off on foot. It was a long time before he realized he was lost.

  Mr Hagman would probably give him another beating when he set eyes on him. His grandfather would be furious. Perhaps he’d even send him to jail, like he’d sent his pa to jail with the policeman. John’s heart gave a little wrench. If he knew where Mr Wyvern lived he’d go there. Mr Wyvern had got his pa out of jail; he’d heard him arguing with his grandfather about it.

  Then he remembered the river. If he followed that he should come to the station, and he’d soon see his mamma and his pa, and his new puppy Scrap. And he could see the river, and a bridge!

  He gave a smile and set off. But when he got to the bridge he couldn’t find the railway station. He gazed down the river to the next bridge, which seemed a long way away. His legs ached and he was getting hungry. He had an apple in his pocket, but he might need it later.

  He remembered that his grandfather’s cook had told him there was apple and rhubarb pudding for supper. His mouth began to water.

  The adventure soon lost its shine. He changed his mind about running away and began to retrace his steps. After a while it began to get dark, and he became confused with all the people hurrying this way and that.

  Then he saw a station in front of him, as big as a church, and he remembered there was a puppy waiting for him and decided to go ahead. He followed after a family group with several children and bags, and he scrambled on to the train, taking a seat on a wooden bench in an empty carriage.

  When the train chugged from the station his stomach churned with excitement. Finally he could stand his hunger no longer. Taking the apple from his pocket John scrunched it down, wiping the juice from his chin with his sleeve.

  He belched, then yawned and lay down on the hard seat. The wheels clickity clacked over the track and the carriage swayed back and forth. He felt drowsy. His eyes began to droop and within minutes he was asleep.

  ‘My grandson has run away!’ The colour drained from Charles Barrie’s face as he read the note. ‘Where’s the girl who was looking after him?’

  When Mollie Smith was found, hiding in the housekeeper’s sitting room, her pale face was smeared in remorseful tears. ‘One moment he was there, the next minute he was gone.’

  ‘That’s just not good enough, Smith. I’m afraid I can’t keep you on after this.’

  She shrilled, ‘It wasn’t me who frightened the poor lad by saying I’d eat his brains. It was that miserable old tutor. And it wasn’t me who beat him every time he put a foot wrong. It was Mr Hagman, and it was you who told him to. No wonder the poor little sod ran way. I don’t blame him. His life’s been a misery since he came to live here, the poor little thing.’

  Too distressed to summon up the anger her attitude deserved, he told her wearily, ‘You’re dismissed, and without reference. After the constables have interviewed you, you can get out.’

  She sniffed. ‘With pleasure. I’ll go and work in my brother’s pie shop. He’s been nagging at me for weeks, and there will be no, Yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir, there.’ She flounced off, banging the door so hard behind her that the windows rattled.

  The butler coughed gently into the awkward silence. ‘I’ve informed the constables and they will keep a look out for the boy.’

  ‘Send for that investigator, Adam Chapman, and for Edgar Wyvern. Tell them it’s urgent. Take a cab and go yourself.’ And because it occurred to Charles that Mollie Smith might attempt to smear his reputation out of revenge if left alone, and his presence there might intimidate her, he added, ‘In the meantime I’ll sit in on the interview with that maid, and you will act as witness to the proper payment of her wages to date.’

  Edgar was the first to arrive at the house.

  Charles had the bird book John had made open in his lap. ‘You know, Edgar, I never got round to looking at this. A lot of work has gone into it.’

  Edgar seated himself and read the note from John before gazing with genuine sympathy at Charles.

  ‘I don’t need to tell you that this had been a great blow, Edgar.’

  ‘To your pride, yes. Nevertheless, I’m not going to encourage any self-pity, and I can’t say I’m altogether surprised by what’s happened. It’s your own fault.’

  ‘I’ve been an old fool, haven’t I? I took the boy away from all that he knew and loved, and in return he got an irascible old man who never had any time for him.’

  ‘That’s the truth of it, Charles.’

  ‘You said I was too old to take on a child. But I wouldn’t listen. He must hate me to have run away like this.’

  ‘John wouldn’t have invited you to visit him if he hated you.’

  Charles grasped at the straw held out to him. ‘Yes . . . there’s that. You know, when I told the tutor to discipline him that was not carte blanche permission for him to frighten the boy out of his wits, or to beat him.’

  ‘You always had to learn from your own mistakes, Charles, but I’d prefer not to listen to you flagellate yourself over it, especially when it’s motivated by self-pity. What’s done is done. We must put the boy’s safety first, and try to rectify the situation.’

  His own stupidity in parenting the lad was so apparent to Charles that it might well have been scribbled in large accusing black letters on the red and gold wallpaper. Next time he’d make sure that the boy had companionship, and his tutor would be female.

  Adam was announced, already made aware of the situation by the servant Charles had sent, and in possession of some useful information. ‘On the way over I stopped and talked to one of the omnibus conductors. A boy matching John’s description boarded the vehicle earlier. He asked for directions to the station when he got off. He was wearing a sailor’s cap and a navy blue coat with brass buttons, over grey trousers.’

  Charles confessed to himself that he hadn’t noticed what John had been wearing, though the boy did have such an outfit in his wardrobe. He nodded. ‘That sounds like John. Waterloo Bridge station, you say.’

  ‘No, just the station. The driver thought he meant Paddington. I’ll take a cab over there and search the station, then walk back to the omnibus stop.’

  ‘Bring him back safely, and I’ll be forever in your debt.’

  ‘May I ask what you intend to do with John when he’s found?’

  Charles’s shoulders slumped in defeat. ‘We must learn from our mistakes. It’s probable that I’ll return him to the family of Colonel Hardy, where he was happy, and hope I can see him now and again. If you have any other suggestions please don’t be afraid to voice them.’

  Adam exchanged a look with Edgar and smiled.

  Seventeen

  ‘Samarand has gone down with all hands.’

  Erasmus Thornton’s face was grey. ‘It’s my fault . . . I should’ve listened to him.’

  Daisy gave a small cry of anguish.

  The infant inside Marianne stretched. Goodness, it was strong, and its knees – at least, she thought it was knees – pushed a lump into her stomach under her belly button. She placed her hands over it and winced, sinking into the nearest chair with a gasp and with the colour draining from her face. She couldn’t quite grasp what Erasmus was saying. Dead! Dearest Nick . . . her lover . . . the husband who she’d hardly known, but loved anyway. He was so strong and vital. He couldn’t be dead. ‘I refuse to believe it.’

  ‘Wreckage was found—’

  She didn’t want to hear any more and her voice rose to a hysterical level. ‘He’s not dead, I tell you. He can’t be dead because he promised to return, and he never breaks a promise, I won’t let him be dead, do you hear me? His child will be here soon. Nick will be here to see him, just wait and see. The boy will need his father.’

  Daisy’s thin arms came round her. ‘Marianne my dear, calm yourself. If you get upset it will be bad for the infant.’

  Marianne turned to g
aze at Erasmus again. ‘Nick would have made it to shore . . . he might be injured.’

  ‘It happened four months ago, when Samarand left Melbourne. He’s well overdue, and I think we would have heard something by now.’ Hope filled her when Erasmus said almost pityingly, ‘It’s possible that he made it ashore, I suppose. There’s plenty of empty coastline.’

  ‘There, you see, that’s what happened. We’ll wait for a little bit longer, until we hear from him.’

  ‘I have a ship to sail, Marianne.’

  ‘Just another week, Erasmus,’ she pleaded.

  He nodded, saying reluctantly. ‘I’ll see if I can find out anything more.’

  Daisy trotted out with her panacea for all misfortune. ‘I’ll go and make some tea.’

  Erasmus didn’t want to be penned up with two grieving women, Marianne knew. He wanted to be out on the sea where he belonged, too busy to think of anything but battling the sea, with the wind filling the Daisy Jane’s sails and the water hissing along the hull.

  Even when he was at home his eyes constantly went to the harbour. There he’d make his peace with Nick. She wondered . . .‘Would you have given up the sea for my mother, Erasmus?’

  ‘Aye, I’d have given up my life for her.’ He gave a faint smile. ‘After the baby was born we were going to sail away together.’

  There was a nasty jolt inside her at such unexpected news. ‘She would have left her children?’

  ‘No, not my Caroline.’

  ‘But my father . . .’

  ‘Found out about our plans, and he wouldn’t let her take you and your sister. She felt she had no choice but to stay. When she died I thought I’d die too.’

  ‘That’s how I feel about Nick. How can you stop yourself from feeling this sad and despairing?’

  ‘You fill your life with something else. Soon you’ll have a child to fill the hole in your life.’

  She took his hand in hers. ‘Erasmus, about the infant.’

  ‘It will give you a reason to go on living, girl, and it will want for nothing. Nick has money his father left him. That will become yours.’

  ‘I meant your infant . . . the little girl my mother birthed that night.’

  He didn’t bother denying it, and his eyes clouded over. ‘Aye, what about her? I can’t bring her back.’

  ‘What if you could?’

  His eyes came to hers, dark and searching. ‘What are you saying, girl?’

  The words jerked out of her. ‘What if your daughter had lived?’

  The silence seemed to stretch into infinity. Eventually he gave a faint grimace. ‘There is no proof. You’ve been listening to rumours.’

  ‘There’s no infant named on my mother’s headstone. I was going to ask the undertaker if a stillborn child had been buried with her, but he’d sold his business and gone. I remember hearing a baby cry that night. It woke me from my sleep.’

  He drew her into his arms and rested his chin on her head, and she felt comforted. ‘You remind me so much of Caroline, you know, Marianne. If I thought my daughter was still alive I’d turn the world upside down to find her, and to hell with gossip. But I’m sure she isn’t. Even if that baby had lived, we were unsure if I was the father or not, though we used to pretend . . .’

  ‘The reverend said that stillborn children are often not named.’

  ‘There you are then.’

  ‘If I die having this baby, and if Charlotte won’t give him a home, you and Aunt Daisy will look after him, won’t you? He’ll need a father.’

  ‘You’re not going to die, my dear. The midwife said you’re perfectly healthy, and should give birth easily.’

  ‘But if I do die, promise me you’ll look after him.’

  He let her go and moved up the sofa a little, taking her hands in his. ‘I promise. But when I return from the next run, and if . . . if Nick has perished, I’ll give up the sea and marry you, if that will make you feel more settled. Then you’ll have a husband and the baby will have a father. I wouldn’t make any demands.’

  Marianne gazed at him in surprise. ‘Thank you Erasmus, that’s kind of you, but I love Nick and could never marry anyone else. Not even you.’

  Daisy snorted as she brought the tea tray in. ‘You’ll never give up the sea, and who would want to marry an old rascal like you, anyway, Erasmus Thornton?’

  He shrugged, and the moment was gone, replaced by an unmistakable expression of relief in his eyes. ‘It was just an idea.’

  Daisy placed a cup of tea in front of her. ‘Drink that, then go upstairs and rest, my dear. You’ve had a nasty shock and your face looks pinched and pale.’

  ‘I’m not hungry and I feel sick.’ Her heart hammered in her chest, her back ached, her head thumped and she was dizzy. She hiccuped, and a sob tore from her. ‘I can’t bear the thought that Nick might be dead,’ and she collapsed into uncontrollable weeping.

  Marianne felt as helpless as a baby as they assisted her upstairs, and soon Daisy had her tucked into bed, with a bowl and flannel on the side table, just in case, and she was plumping the pillows under her head, making soothing noises.

  Across the room the baby’s crib was ready for occupancy under a dust sheet. It was a gift from Erasmus, a white painted cradle hanging from a frame. It could be swung gently back and forth. Daisy had made a little patchwork quilt, and there was a basket of baby clothes they’d gathered together . . . though Marianne couldn’t help thinking that she would have preferred to share that pleasurable activity with her sister.

  Marianne knew she was being selfish. Daisy and Erasmus loved Nick too, and they’d loved him for longer. Their grief must be greater than hers. ‘I’m so sorry to be a nuisance,’ Marianne said. ‘You love him too . . .’

  ‘Aye . . . we love him, even though he was so strong-minded a rascal at times that I had to put a strap across his backside.’

  She giggled at the thought of the diminutive Daisy giving Nick a flogging, but it turned into another hiccup, then tears again.

  Daisy’s fingers were wonderfully soothing as she smoothed the hair back from Marianne’s face. ‘We’ve got to look after you first, and the baby you’re carrying. Erasmus has gone to fetch the doctor. You know . . . you’re probably right about Nick making it to shore, so don’t go marrying Erasmus. You turning up at church with a husband on each arm would really set the tongues flapping.’

  Marianne felt hope again and she propped herself up on one elbow. ‘That was kind of Erasmus, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Ah yes . . . Erasmus is a kind man once you get to know him.’

  ‘And you’re a kind woman, Daisy. I was scared of you when I first knocked on your door. I thought you’d turn me away.’

  ‘Oh, I knew something had happened the last time I saw Nick. He was different, quieter and more responsible, and he seemed to have grown up. When I asked him if everything was all right, he gave me a hug and told me it was more than all right. He said I’d know about it in good time. When he told us he was coming ashore, at first I thought that was it . . . but I knew there was something else he wasn’t telling us. When you knocked at the door that day, I realized what it was before you told us.’

  ‘We’d planned to keep it quiet so we wouldn’t have to put up with people speculating about it without him being here to back me up. And we’d decided to have a proper wedding when he came back, just for everyone else.’ Her hands went to her rounded stomach and she smiled wryly. ‘I’m afraid this rather changed our plans.’

  It was Lucian who came, not his father, who’d met with an accident.

  ‘I’m so sorry. Is he badly hurt?’

  ‘A wrenched ankle. He should be fit in a week or so.’

  Lucian was awkward, and didn’t quite meet her eyes. ‘I understand that your . . . that Nicholas has been lost at sea.’

  ‘Nick is my husband, Lucian. Whatever you might think of him, he is a man who has honourable intentions, and acts on them.’

  ‘Quite.’ His eyes came up to hers. ‘I’m sorry, Mari
anne.’

  ‘About what? Thinking the worst of me? I don’t believe that he’s drowned, of course.’

  He gave the faintest of smiles. ‘Of course you don’t. You wouldn’t be Marianne Honeyman if you did.’

  Her voice sharpened. ‘Haven’t I made it clear that I’m Marianne Thornton?’

  ‘My pardon, Mrs Thornton.’ His calmness infuriated her, and she came to the conclusion that he was a cold fish. He took up her hand, felt the pulse in her wrist, and frowned. ‘It’s much too fast.’

  ‘I could have told you that.’ She told him the rest of her symptoms.

  ‘When’s the infant due?’

  ‘In about four weeks. At the beginning of spring I ran into my gypsy friend, the one who delivered Charlotte’s twins. She told me I’m carrying a baby boy.’

  ‘And you believe her?’

  ‘Of course I do. Jessica is wise beyond understanding. They were going to Dartmoor, and she said I would have my son early summer.’

  Lucian looked mildly astonished. ‘She would have been burned at the stake had she lived in an earlier age. You should have nothing to do with gypsies.’

  ‘Why not? They’re people, the same as us. It must be wonderful to travel all over the countryside.’

  ‘You always see the best in people, Marianne. Gypsies are sly. They take advantage of the gullible.’

  ‘Goodness, Dr Beresford, I know plenty of people who take advantage of the gullible, and they’re not all gypsies. Some are seemingly respectable shopkeepers who’ll rob an old woman of her last farthing, by pretending he’s already given it to her as change, and suggesting she’s dropped it. There are employers who sack their workers, then send them on their way without paying their wages. Then there are men who pretend they’re in love so they can marry a woman for her fortune . . .’