by Dilly Court
‘You were right, Charity,’ he said slowly. ‘I’ve been awake all night struggling with the dilemma, but I came to realise that I was being a coward.’
‘No!’ she cried angrily. ‘Never say that.’
‘It’s true, sweetheart. I was running away from myself.’ He held up his hand as she took a step towards him. ‘But what I said about us still stands. I’m a gambler and probably always will be. Everything depends on whether I’m strong enough to avoid temptation.’
‘I’ll help you. I’ll do everything I can to stop you sliding back into your old ways.’
‘One step at a time, I think.’ He smiled, and the tender look in his eyes made her want to throw her arms around him, but she resisted the temptation and sat down to put on her boots.
They walked, hand in hand, down to the jetty but Ned’s boat had gone, as had all the other fishing boats that had been moored alongside. Harry went to enquire at the harbourmaster’s cottage and returned minutes later, frowning angrily. ‘Apparently there were reports of a big shoal off Alderney. All the fishermen left on the tide and they aren’t expected back until tonight or tomorrow. In fact, knowing Loveless, I wouldn’t be surprised if he took his catch to St Malo and sold it there.’
‘So we’re stranded here until he remembers us.’
He met her worried gaze with the beginnings of a smile. ‘That’s not such a bad thing, is it, Charity? It means we have some time to ourselves. I’ll show you my island, for that’s how I’ve grown to think of Herm.’
Her first thoughts were for Violet and Dorrie, but then she realised that they had only to ask Mrs Trevett or Mrs Diment for help and it would be given wholeheartedly. She smiled up at him. ‘I don’t suppose Dan will return home for a few days, and now that Vi and Dorrie are in the cottage . . .’
He laid his finger on her lips, shaking his head. ‘Stop worrying about everyone else. Whatever happens in the future, this time has been given to us so let’s not waste it.’ He slipped his arm around her shoulders. ‘I suggest we go to the pub. I happen to know that Rozelle Ogier serves a wonderful breakfast. I’ve eaten there almost every day since I’ve been here.’
They enjoyed a tasty breakfast of buttered eggs and toasted fruit bread, which Mrs Ogier explained was called gâche, made from a traditional Guernsey recipe. ‘I was a Guernsey girl,’ she said proudly. ‘My family had a farm in Vale and I met my husband in the market where I was selling the first strawberries of the season.’ She placed a dish of creamy yellow butter on the table in front of them. ‘You should eat plenty of our good food while you’re here,’ she added, aiming the remark at Charity. ‘Men like their women to have a bit of flesh on them.’ She chuckled and moved off to a table where a group of quarrymen were just finishing their meal.
‘You’re perfect as you are,’ Harry said, grinning. ‘Rozelle is the motherly sort who is only happy when she’s looking after people. That’s the secret of her success, as most of the men who work in the quarries have come from far away.’
Charity sipped her tea. ‘She’s a very good cook, but I can’t manage another mouthful.’
‘Then we’ll slip away while she’s busy with my workmates. I’ve told the foreman that I won’t be in today.’ He stood up and held out his hand. ‘It’s a beautiful May morning; just right for seeing the island.’
Charity discovered that the island of Herm was only a mile and a half long, and it seemed like a tropical paradise to a girl brought up in the teeming filth of the East End streets. The white sandy beaches and sheltered coves were beyond her imaginings. ‘It’s like Treasure Island,’ she said, leaning against Harry’s shoulder as they sat side by side on the sands of Belvoir Bay. ‘I expect to see the Hispaniola moored out there and Long John Silver limping across the beach.’
Harry kissed her tenderly on the lips. ‘You and your books, Charity. Reading was never one of my pastimes. I liked to be active when I was a boy.’
She smiled. ‘You don’t know what you’re missing. When I was in the shop I used to read by candlelight. It was the only way I could stand being alone at night, except for the cockroaches and the rats, but I don’t count them.’
‘I want to make it up to you, Charity. I’ve never forgotten the first time I saw you. It was a bitterly cold day and Wilmot insisted on stopping in at a bookshop in Liquorpond Street, and he introduced us. I suppose I should be eternally grateful to him for that.’
‘It was my birthday and you and he took me out to dinner and the theatre. You stood up for me when Wilmot said hateful things, and you made the cabby stop so that we could get out and leave Wilmot to travel on alone. You took your coat off and wrapped it around me because I was shivering.’
‘I felt the need to take care of you then, as I do now.’ He stroked her cheek. ‘Don’t frown, darling. I know you’re a capable and independent young woman, but that doesn’t stop me wanting to give you everything that was denied to you when you were growing up. I know it’s selfish but I want you to be with me for the rest of my life.’
A fluffy white cloud passed across the sun, sending shadows across the silvery sands, and a breeze rustled the leaves of the trees on the cliff top. Charity felt a shiver run through her even though it was a warm day. She twisted round so that she was facing him. ‘But it’s not as easy as that, is it, Harry?’
It was his turn to frown. ‘I don’t understand. I thought that’s what you wanted. I was the one who had doubts.’
‘You’ve inherited the land and the title and now you’re a rich man. You have a position to keep up and that doesn’t include a girl from the slums of the East End.’
He stopped her protests with a kiss that blotted out reason and made time stand still. ‘I’ll hear no more of that talk,’ he said gruffly when they drew apart. ‘You were born to a better life despite the misfortunes that were forced upon you. I love you and you love me. Nothing else matters.’ He held her in his arms and Charity allowed herself to relax and enjoy the moment. There was silence except for the gentle sound of the waves lapping on the shore and the beating of their hearts.
She lost all track of time as they sat together on the warm sand. There was no need for words. They were the only two people in the world and this was their island, safe from intruders and far away from the problems that awaited them at home.
The rest of the day passed like a wonderful dream. Charity put all thoughts of home firmly out of her mind. Even if they only had this precious time together she would be grateful for the rest of her life. They returned to the old barn to eat their midday meal but there was no sign of the fishing boats and no one seemed to expect them before nightfall at the earliest.
Charity slept alone again that night, but she went to bed feeling happier than she had ever felt in her whole life. Harry had quashed her misgivings, setting them aside as if they were of no importance. He had promised to put his old ways behind him, and she was certain that he would keep his word. When they returned to Bligh Park it would only be a matter of having the banns read and then they would be married. She fell asleep hoping that Ned would haul in a huge catch of fish and that he would not return for another day at least. She realised that this interlude on the idyllic island was precious and once gone would never return. It was like a jewel that she would wear close to her heart for the rest of her life. ‘Just one more perfect day,’ she whispered as she drifted off to sleep.
Ned’s boat returned to harbour in the early morning of the third day. He was unapologetic. ‘I couldn’t let up on a chance like that,’ he said, grinning. ‘Sold the lot in St Malo and made enough money to see me through next winter, if I’m careful.’
Charity had expected Harry to be angry, but he merely laughed and slapped Ned on the back. ‘When do we sail for home?’
‘Six o’clock this evening, unless the weather breaks. It’s set fair at the moment, but I got a feeling there’s a storm brewing to the west.’
‘Perhaps we ought to postpone sailing until we know it’s safe,’ Charity murmu
red. She was not afraid, but the seasickness she had suffered on the crossing was still fresh in her mind.
‘You’ll be safe with me. I’m the best there is when it comes to boat handling.’ Ned swaggered off towards the pub.
‘He’s right,’ Harry said with a rueful smile. ‘And my meagre wages have almost run out. Let’s hope that Dan has had some luck with the bullion dealers.’
Charity linked her hand through the crook of his arm as they walked away from the harbour, heading towards his cottage. ‘You know it came as a total shock to him when he found out that Sir Hedley was his father too.’
‘It’s not something I would boast about,’ Harry said grimly. ‘I still love my mother, but I think she played a dirty trick on my father, and perhaps I should have given him more of a chance to prove himself to me. I allowed her to turn me against him and that was wrong.’
Charity squeezed his arm. ‘It wasn’t your fault. Neither you nor Dan were to blame for your parents’ actions.’
‘We’ll be home soon, but I can face anything as long as I have you at my side.’ He stopped and drew her into his arms.
Their homecoming at Bligh Park was met with tears of joy from Mrs Trevett and Mrs Diment and grim satisfaction from Parkin and Tapper. No doubt Jackson would react in a similar stoical manner when news filtered through to Nevill’s Court. Daniel had not yet returned from London, but at least there was no indication that Wilmot had been alerted as to the existence of the bullion.
Charity went back to the cottage and found that Violet and Dorrie were coping very well without her, although they were delighted to see her and welcomed her with hugs and demands to hear all about her travels. Violet, who was very close to her time, had stopped going to the big house to help clean the ingots, but Dorrie had been happy to take her place. Charity accompanied her each morning, essentially to complete her task in Sir Hedley’s library, but it did not take much persuasion from Harry for her to abandon the books and spend time with him. He had wanted to announce their engagement the moment they arrived home, but she had persuaded him to keep their relationship secret until Dan’s return.
She suspected that it was already common knowledge in the village, but she also knew that if that particular piece of news were to reach Wilmot’s ears he would double his efforts to prevent Harry from claiming his inheritance. Harry had told her that his claim to inherit his father’s baronetcy could not be officially recognised until his name appeared on the Roll, which seemed unlikely while the shadow of bankruptcy and even prison loomed over him. They would have to wait for Dan to return with the money raised from the sale of the bullion before Harry could begin paying off his creditors.
In the days that followed he threw himself into matters concerning the estate. He spent most of the time riding round the various farms and smallholdings, reacquainting himself with the tenants whom he had known in his youth. Charity accompanied him on Nellie whenever possible and she saw yet another side of Harry’s character. He had a natural gift for conversing with people no matter what their station in life. He was a good listener and she could see that he was deeply shocked by the rundown state of some of the smaller farmhouses and their outbuildings. He never made rash promises but he seemed to have the ability to instil confidence in his tenants, and they trusted him to make their lives more bearable. Each day she learned a little more about the man she loved and what she saw made her love him even more, but a sense of foreboding still lingered in the recesses of her mind. Sometimes she awakened in the middle of the night, snapping to a sitting position in her narrow bed as she escaped from a bad dream where she had been cold and frightened, begging once again for pennies on the streets of London. Gnarled fingers had reached out at her from the shadows, threatening to drag her down into a world inhabited by sewer rats and toshers; desperate people who sorted through the filth and excreta looking for valuables that had been lost down the drains. It took her several minutes to realise that the nightmare had passed and she was safe in her own bed, but the fear would not quite go away, even in broad daylight.
They had been home for almost two weeks and Charity was in the kitchen helping Mrs Diment to clean the last of the ingots, waiting for Harry to return from visiting one of his tenants who had suffered a fall while mending a barn roof and broken his leg. Mrs Trevett had sent a jar of calf’s foot jelly and a dozen eggs to the family, and Harry had gone to see if there was any more practical help that could be given until the farmer was well enough to work again.
‘That’s the last one,’ Mrs Diment said with a satisfied sigh. ‘At least, as far as I know. They seem to keep popping up in unexpected places.’
Charity was about to answer when the door flew open and Daniel breezed into the kitchen with a triumphant grin on his face. He held out his arms. ‘Charity, you look blooming. The country air suits you.’
Mrs Diment and Mrs Trevett exchanged knowing looks that were not lost on Charity, but she chose to ignore them. She gave Daniel a welcoming smile. ‘It’s good to see you. How did it go in London?’
He produced a heavy leather pouch from his coat pocket and thumped it down on the table. ‘Put it this way – we’re no longer poor. The dealers will take all the bullion we can find and give us good prices.’
Charity picked up the pouch, weighing it in her hand. ‘That’s wonderful. You’ve done well, Dan. You must be tired after the journey.’
‘Of course he is.’ Mrs Trevett bustled over to the range and put the kettle on the hob. ‘Are you hungry, Master Daniel?’
He smiled, shaking his head. ‘I had breakfast at an inn, but a cup of tea would be very welcome.’ He looked round at the sound of the door opening and his smile faded when he saw Harry. ‘I didn’t expect to see you so soon,’ he murmured, glancing nervously at Charity.
She had already sensed his unease and she was ready to intervene if necessary, but Harry crossed the floor and embraced his brother. ‘Welcome home, brother.’
‘I’m so glad to see you, Harry.’ Daniel loosened the strings and opened the pouch. ‘There’s enough there to pay off your debts and more. When I’ve recovered from the journey I’ll take the rest of the ingots to the bullion dealer.’
‘You’ve done enough for now, Dan. I’ll take them to London. I have legitimate business there.’
‘Are you sure?’ Daniel asked anxiously. ‘I mean, is it wise to show your face in the city before you’ve had a chance to settle matters?’
‘My creditors will welcome me with open arms when they realise that I can settle my debts.’
‘Why don’t you take your tea into the study?’ Charity suggested hastily. ‘I’m sure you have a lot to talk about.’
‘I think this calls for something a little stronger.’ Harry turned to Mrs Trevett. ‘Where’s Parkin? I haven’t seen him this morning.’
‘He’s in the kitchen garden,’ Mrs Trevett said, pursing her lips until her mouth resembled a wrinkled prune. ‘It’s not right that a man of his age has to tend the vegetable beds.’
‘I agree entirely, and that will be rectified in the very near future.’ Harry held out his hand. ‘We won’t disturb Parkin. If you’ll give me your keys I’ll go down to the cellar myself.’
Mrs Trevett unclipped a large bunch of keys from the chatelaine she wore around her waist, and handed them to Harry with a look of disapproval. ‘It’s Parkin’s job,’ she muttered.
‘Don’t be such an old stick, Polly.’ Mrs Diment moved to the range and picked up the teapot. ‘We’ll have a cup of tea. It won’t go to waste.’
Harry shot a casual glance in Charity’s direction. ‘I have some papers I’d like you to sort, Miss Crosse.’
‘Yes, of course, sir.’
‘Come along, Dan.’ Harry paused as he reached the doorway. ‘We’ll discuss matters over a glass of Madeira, unless Wilmot has drunk the cellar dry.’ He strode off in the direction of the study, giving Charity and Daniel little option other than to follow him.
‘How did you find him?’ Da
niel whispered. ‘I doubt if he came home of his own accord.’
Charity had to quicken her pace in order to keep up with his long stride. ‘He didn’t need much persuading,’ she said smiling. ‘Spend some time together, Dan. Get to know each other properly.’ She hurried on and caught up with Harry just as he was about to enter the study. ‘Give me the keys and I’ll go down to the cellar. I’m sure that you and Dan will have a lot to talk about.’
‘Have you ever been down to the cellars?’
‘No, but I’m sure I can find my way without too much difficulty.’
Reluctantly he handed her the keys. ‘All right, but be careful. It’s pitch dark down there and the floor is uneven. If you can’t find anything come straight back.’
‘What’s going on?’ Daniel demanded.
Charity snatched the keys and left Harry to talk things over with Dan. She was not keen on venturing into the cellars, but she wanted the two brothers to have time on their own. She stopped to light a candle before venturing down the stone steps that led to the cellar. A strong smell of damp and must assailed her nostrils and an involuntary shiver ran down her spine as she made her way between the wine racks, most of which were festooned with cobwebs but otherwise empty. She walked further and further into the depths of the vaulted caverns beneath the house, glancing round nervously at the odd sounds of scuffling that seemed to come from all corners. She knew that it was more than likely to be rats, but that was hardly a comforting thought and she had to force herself to continue her search.
The cobwebs grew thicker, hanging like lace curtains between the rows. She shuddered to think of the spiders that were lurking in them but she pressed on, focusing her thoughts on searching for something with which Harry and Dan could toast their future. She had reached the end of the extensive cellar complex and was about to give up when she found a couple of crusty bottles at the bottom of the last rack. She bent down to read the labels, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the glint of metal. A closer look revealed a pile of ingots reaching up to the ceiling. Stunned and hardly able to believe her eyes, she ran her fingers down the smooth and slippery surface of the blackened silver. The candle guttered and she held it steady, praying that it would not go out and leave her in Stygian darkness. She snatched up a bottle and headed back the way she had come.
