The Trader's Reward

by Anna Jacobs

  He sighed. ‘If I’d been living at home I’d have stopped the fights, well, I’d have tried to, but I was working as a groom at the big house by then. I didn’t hear from Fergus after he left. He could have been dead and I’d not have known it. That’s why I was crying. I was so happy that he’s still alive. And he’s coming here!’ He gave her a tearful smile.

  She put her arm through his and waited for him to calm down and continue.

  ‘Ma had twelve children in all. The two born after Fergus only lived a few weeks. Then Ismay, then three brothers who did live. But when they grew up, they ran off like Fergus did. We think they went to America, but we never heard from them again, so we’re not sure. And Padraig died of the typhus, poor lad. So I thought there were only Ismay, Ryan, Noreen and me left.’

  He beamed at her, suddenly cheering up. ‘And Fergus has three children, too. Isn’t that wonderful?’

  ‘Yes, darling, it is. We’ll have your brother and his family to stay in our house when they arrive, even if we have to stuff all the children into the attics.’

  ‘You’re a generous soul, Isabella.’

  ‘I like the members of your family whom I’ve met so far. Why should I not like Fergus as well?’

  Bram chewed the corner of his lip, then said, ‘He’s not as easy to know as the others, unless he’s changed. He can be a bit stiff at times and words don’t always come easily to him. I do hope he won’t still be trying to outdo me.’

  ‘He’d never succeed.’

  ‘Yes, but it’d be uncomfortable if he tried, whether he succeeded or not.’

  ‘Don’t borrow trouble till trouble knocks on your door, Bram Deagan. Now, you’d better go up to Perth and see the Governor about this, get permission for them to settle here. No, maybe you should write to him first.’

  ‘If you’ll help me to compose the letter.’

  He hesitated, but decided to confess what he’d done about Livia while he was at it. ‘Isabella, I – um, wrote to the gentleman in the newspaper.’

  Her good humour vanished instantly. ‘Bram Deagan, you did not!’

  ‘I did. And … he came to see me.’

  ‘The tall older gentleman, what was his name? Tilsley? I wondered why you went for a walk with him.’

  ‘Yes. Norman Tilsley. I’ve invited him to take tea with us this coming Sunday, and … I’ve invited Livia too.’

  Her voice was sharp. ‘You’re an incorrigible matchmaker. Have you told her why he’s coming?’

  ‘No. I thought we’d just see how things went.’

  ‘Well, at least you had that much sense. I can tell you now, she won’t want him.’

  ‘Why not? He’s a very pleasant fellow.’

  ‘He’s too old for her and too staid.’

  Bram looked at her in surprise. ‘You never even spoke to him. How can you know that?’

  ‘You can tell a lot about a man from his appearance. And Livia has always been a bit … unconventional.’

  ‘I still think she’ll like him.’

  ‘Oh well, that’s up to her. If you’ve already invited them, we’ll have to go through with it on Sunday. But no sending them out to look at the garden together, no doing anything that throws them together. We shall just chat. And I’ll invite Maura and Hugh, as well as the Saxbys. The more people, the better.’

  ‘Shouldn’t we just have ourselves, with Livia and Mr Tilsley?’

  ‘No, we should not. We don’t want it to be obvious what you’re doing. Livia will run a mile if she thinks you’re matchmaking.’

  He sighed. Isabella seemed very sure of what she was saying. Was she right? Ah, what did he know about women? They could be strange creatures at times. He wished he hadn’t made the arrangements now. Well, that worry could wait. The most important thing was to find out from the Governor about his brother and family settling here.

  He didn’t doubt it’d be allowed, because he could support them all until Fergus found work, so they’d not be a charge on the colony.

  What did Fergus do for a living now? Mr Kieran hadn’t said.

  The following Sunday, the tea party was held in the Deagans’ comfortable house. All those invited had accepted.

  Livia chatted to the people she knew, conscious at times of Mr Tilsley staring at her. He seemed pleasant enough and made no secret of the fact that he found life a little lonely, because he didn’t know many people in Western Australia yet.

  ‘It was very kind of Mr Deagan to invite me to tea,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, Bram collects people like others collect shells or flowers,’ she said lightly.

  ‘He’s a very warm-hearted man. And his wife is charming. Do you – um, ever get up to Perth?’

  ‘Once a month I visit the bookshop there. It’s my biggest treat.’

  ‘Perhaps next time you come, you might like to take tea with me?’

  It was then that she realised why she had been invited today and why Mr Tilsley had been staring. She could feel herself stiffening and shot Bram an annoyed glance across the room.

  He didn’t notice but Isabella did and came across to join her.

  ‘Mr Tilsley and I were just talking about books,’ Livia said lightly, and began to discuss the novel she’d just finished reading. With Isabella’s help, she managed to get away from Mr Tilsley without agreeing to meet him for tea.

  As she passed Bram, who was sitting on a sofa, she leaned down to whisper, ‘Don’t ever do this to me again!’

  She didn’t wait for a response, but joined Maura. Soon after that, she took her leave.

  Bram walked with his guest to the ferry, not asking how it went but hoping his companion would confide in him.

  ‘I don’t think Mrs Southerham took to me,’ Mr Tilsley said abruptly.

  ‘No … Perhaps not. It was worth a try. You must come again anyway.’

  ‘Mrs Beaufort invited me to take tea with them next week.’

  ‘My aunt Maura is a friendly woman.’

  When Bram got back, Isabella was waiting for him. He held up one hand to stop her and said, ‘I know. They don’t suit.’

  ‘You meant well. But something may come out of it. Maura was telling me she has a neighbour, who’s a meek little widow and who might be much more to Mr Tilsley’s taste. Livia is far too intelligent for him, and has learned to be independent.’

  He felt aggrieved. ‘I usually do better than that with the matchmaking.’

  ‘Your gift is to know when it’s time for someone to marry, but for heaven’s sake, let people pick their own partners. Or not, in Livia’s case.’ She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘Now, let’s go and play with the children.’

  Relief that she was getting over her annoyance with him made him close his eyes for a moment, then he opened them and smiled. ‘Yes, let’s.’

  As they were going to bed later on, he asked, ‘Are we going to tea with Maura next Sunday as well?’

  ‘No, we are not. You’ve played your part. Leave it to Mr Tilsley to make his own choices now. Don’t you dare interfere again, Bram Deagan.’

  16

  The evening of the ship’s concert was as clear and balmy as the previous evenings had been. The ongoing fine weather amazed people more used to rain and snow than sunshine at this time of year and there was much speculation from those travelling to the Orient for the first time about how much hotter it would get in the Tropics.

  There was a feeling of happy anticipation throughout the ship about the concert, and even the cabin passengers mostly forgot to be blasé about the amateurs performing in it, because everyone knew at least one of the performers.

  Rémi kept an eye on Barrett, who had been behaving strangely all day. The fellow seemed abstracted one minute, then would jerk and stare round as if he’d just woken up. At one point, he left the cabin to go on deck and when Rémi followed, he saw Barrett staring out to sea as if unaware of the busy preparations going on all round him.

  It was a while before he went back to the cabin and Rémi felt obl
iged to follow him and check what he was doing.

  After fidgeting around for a while and making a sudden rush into one corner, flapping his hands, Barrett exclaimed, ‘I’ve had enough of this!’ and rang for the steward.

  ‘Ah, there you are. Took you long enough to answer the bell. I wish to complain about the rats that keep invading our cabin, mostly during the night, but there was one in here just now. They’re the size of dogs, dammit!’

  ‘Rats, sir? No one else has complained and I’ve certainly not seen any. This is a brand-new ship, you know.’

  As Rémi looked at the younger man in shock, the steward turned to him. ‘Have you seen any rats, Mr Newland?’

  ‘No. Not one.’

  ‘You must have done!’ Barrett exclaimed. ‘I drove one out of the cabin only a few minutes ago.’

  ‘I haven’t seen any sign of vermin.’ He was starting to worry that his companion really had gone mad. What else could explain this strange behaviour?

  He followed the steward out of the cabin to discuss it, thankful when Barrett didn’t follow them, or even seem aware of them leaving. ‘Mr Barrett has been acting very strangely lately. He seems to be hallucinating. I can’t imagine what’s wrong.’

  ‘We did have another gentleman with hallucinations like that on a ship a couple of years ago.’

  ‘What caused it?’

  The steward hesitated. ‘I’d rather not say. It might upset the captain to hear I’d been talking about passengers’ problems. The other gentleman’s family was rather upset at the time and asked for it to be kept quiet. Anyway, it might not be the same thing.’

  ‘Couldn’t you just give me a hint?’

  ‘No, sir. I’d better not.’

  ‘Well, if Mr Barrett gets any worse, I’ll have to call in the doctor. In fact, perhaps we should do that now, just to make sure everything’s all right. What do you think?’

  ‘The doctor’s been looking forward to the concert like everyone else, sir. He won’t come unless it’s an emergency.’ He glanced back into the cabin. ‘Anyway, Mr Barrett seems to have settled down now. He looks as if he’s asleep.’

  Rémi sighed as he watched the steward walk away. Barrett’s behaviour was sensible enough to leave a doubt in one’s mind as to whether the man was indeed sinking into madness. He might just be running a fever, which could make people act strangely. And indeed, Barrett had seemed feverish at times over the past few days, though he denied it strongly. But mild fevers didn’t normally last this long, and there were no other symptoms of an illness.

  In the end, Rémi roused the other man and suggested he get ready for the concert. But this seemed to take a long time, because Barrett kept stopping to stare into space, so in the end Rémi left him to it.

  On deck, he went to see if he could help Fergus. But everything seemed to be in good order, with the piano in place at one side of the performance area, and a set of narrow benches squeezed in to the side and rear of it for the performers. Cabin passengers were to be seated in rows in front of the performance area, and a variety of more comfortable seats had been brought out for them. Steerage passengers would have to stand round the edges. Children (if well behaved and clean) could sit on the floor in front of the cabin passengers’ seats.

  Two sailors were keeping an eye on things, in case any of the children tried to get up to mischief. One of the sailors, who was standing near the performers’ area, beckoned to Rémi.

  ‘I thought I’d better warn you, sir: earlier on Mr Barrett came to see if the stage was set up properly. He wanted to change things round and I knew Mr Deagan wouldn’t want that – a very capable man, Mr Deagan, if I may say so. Anyway, I refused to do as Mr Barrett wished, but I had to get help to send him on his way.’

  Rémi’s heart sank.

  The man lowered his voice still further. ‘The chief steward has asked us to keep an eye on Mr Barrett, says he’s behaving strangely.’

  ‘Yes, he is, I’m afraid. You did exactly the right thing.’ It was a relief to Rémi that he wasn’t the only one keeping an eye on Barrett, a great relief.

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ The sailor paused to grab a lad by his collar and say, ‘Get back to the others and stay quiet or you’ll have to go and stand at the back, and then you won’t see much.’

  The lad eyed him, then did as he was told.

  ‘I’m glad I’m on duty here tonight, sir. I always enjoy concerts and I don’t want anybody spoiling this one.’ The sailor leaned closer and added in a confidential voice, ‘It can be quite amusing when things go wrong, or someone can’t sing, though I doubt that will happen tonight, not with Mr Deagan in charge. He’s been down to the engine room a couple of times, you know, and had a long talk with the engineers. Knows a lot about steam engines, he does.’

  Rémi was pleased at how well respected Fergus was.

  When Barrett didn’t appear, Rémi felt obliged to check and found him still in the cabin, pacing to and fro, looking very agitated. And he wasn’t ready yet, hadn’t even put his jacket out.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ Rémi asked him.

  ‘Wrong? No. Of course it isn’t. But we’d all do a lot better if we could have a drink before we start performing. It relaxes you.’

  ‘Try taking deep breaths. I’ve always found that very calming.’

  The scornful look Rémi received for that remark, which he’d meant seriously, made him feel angry. But he said nothing. He knew he mustn’t upset Barrett, had to stay near him for Fergus and Cara’s sake. He liked them both and was determined to help them avoid trouble.

  It’d be a relief to them all when they arrived at Suez and changed ships. Barrett would continue to sail on the Peshawur. The people of Bombay were welcome to him.

  On that thought, Rémi went back on deck. It wouldn’t matter to him if Barrett didn’t join in the concert at all – in fact, that might be better – but he’d warn Fergus to be ready to fill in for the man with another piano piece or song, if necessary.

  As Cara got ready for the concert, she looked so worried, Fergus asked her what was wrong.

  ‘I don’t know. I just feel … well, as if something bad is going to happen.’

  ‘So do I,’ Ma said. ‘I get these feelings sometimes and I’m never wrong. Never. I’ll tell Pa to keep a very careful eye on the boys tonight. I don’t want them getting mixed up in any trouble.’

  Fergus looked at the two women in surprise. ‘Well, I hope you’re wrong this time, Ma. Everyone’s put a lot of effort into tonight’s concert.’ He put an arm round Cara and gave her a quick hug. ‘Try not to worry. You look lovely.’

  She squeaked and pushed him away. ‘Mind my hair.’

  He stepped back, pleased that he’d distracted her. She wasn’t too upset to make herself look good. More than good – beautiful.

  ‘You look like a princess in a storybook, Mama,’ Mal said suddenly.

  ‘Thank you, dear.’

  It pleased Fergus that his son had offered Cara a compliment, and also that Sean was on better terms with his young stepmother. The boy was enjoying the story books she’d bought for the journey, and was starting to try to read them himself, with her tactful help.

  Mal beamed at his father. ‘And you look like a posh gentleman, Da.’

  ‘Cara’s trimmed my hair and mended my best shirt, the one that got torn, that’s why.’

  But Mal shook his head. ‘It’s not that.’

  Sean said, ‘He’s right, Da. It’s not the shirt that does it, it’s … you. You look as if you’re the one in charge. Like the gentry look.’

  ‘Thank you, son. I am in charge of the concert, but not of much else!’ He held out his arm. ‘Are we ready to go then, Mrs Deagan?’

  She dropped a mock curtsey before she took his arm, ‘Yes, we are, Mr Deagan.’

  He saw Ma smiling fondly at them and winked at her.

  But once he’d left Cara sitting with the other performers, he admitted to himself that the two women’s feeling of unease had struck a chord with
him. He hoped they were wrong. He hoped he was on edge only because he was in charge of the entertainment.

  He had to stand alone in front of everyone, waiting for people to take their places, and that made him feel nervous, so he was glad to see Rémi coming towards him.

  ‘Everything all right, Fergus?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. All we need now is the performers to remember what we rehearsed.’

  ‘You made sure they understood what you wanted. And most of them weren’t too stupid to realise you were making them look better.’ Rémi grinned. ‘They won’t all remember, though. They never do at amateur concerts, but no one expects perfection.’

  Fergus relaxed a little. ‘You’re right.’

  Gradually the benches to the side filled up with the performers and the cabin passengers started to take their places in the centre. Steerage passengers had already positioned themselves along the rear and sides. They were in a good mood, laughing and chatting, with the taller ones letting the shorter people and older children stand in front of them.

  Rémi scanned the benches of performers. ‘Barrett hasn’t shown up yet.’

  ‘No. And he was in a strange mood earlier, wasn’t he? If he doesn’t turn up, I’ll sing his song. But I’d rather not. He’d make a big fuss about that, I’m sure.’

  Rémi couldn’t help glancing in the direction of his cabin every minute or two. Where was the man? Surely Barrett hadn’t got hold of any wine or brandy? Surely he would be sober enough to perform properly?

  Just as he’d decided to go and look for the fellow yet again, he saw Barrett come on deck and pause for a moment, staring round as if he wasn’t sure what to do.

  Rémi went across to him. ‘There you are. Come and join the other performers. They’re sitting over to the side.’ He indicated the benches. ‘Your song is the fourth item, isn’t it?’

  ‘What? Oh, yes. My song.’