‘Rape, Emma,’ Ruby whispered. ‘Can you imagine a more horrible thing?’
A ripple of fear snaked its way up Emma’s spine.
‘Let’s not talk of such things,’ she said. ‘I’ve work to do. Those children need to be washed and dressed and ready for their papa to take on a drive in half-an-hour. I’ll need to jump to it.’
‘That’s me dismissed, then.’ Ruby laughed, and scuttled off.
Emma hurried towards the nursery, a stone on her heart that someone might come to question her at some stage about the night Carter Jago tried to assault her. If Seth was asked if he knew anything, then he might tell that his brother had assaulted her. Mightn’t he? Or Matthew – who as far as Emma knew was still in America. He knew because she’d told him and he’d dressed her cut forehead.
She wished with all her heart she hadn’t said a single thing about it to anyone now – although, of course, Matthew had had to know.
Emma lived on tenterhooks for weeks. But no one came to Nase Head House to question her, and she began to breathe a little easier. She was settling down at the hotel, grateful to have a good roof over her head and food in her belly. And, now she was used to it, caring for Isabelle wasn’t as arduous as she’d thought it would be. When the child slept in the day, she was able to go to the kitchen and make tarte tatin or a savoury tart for Mr Smythe and the children.
Today was her half day and with nothing to do and no one to do it with, Emma decided to take some flowers and put them on the graves of her parents and Johnnie. She’d been bold and asked Mr Smythe if she might have some roses from the border in front of the dining-room – the bushes were groaning with them; deep peach roses with a heavenly scent. And Mr Smythe had smiled and said that yes, of course she could. And why didn’t she take some for her room while she was about it? ‘You’re becoming invaluable to me, Emma,’ was what Mr Smythe had said, and Emma had shivered at his words – she didn’t want to become invaluable to him, that was the last thing she needed. But she knew which side her bread was buttered for the moment, thanked him, and took the flowers.
And now, as Emma made her way through the lych-gate into the graveyard of St. Mary’s she was on tenterhooks again. Might Seth be there laying flowers on his mother’s grave? A part of her hoped he would be, but another part hoped he wouldn’t because, while she’d written to him at least a dozen times, he’d only replied once – and that rather stiffly, if politely, wishing her well, saying he was very busy and he regretted he wouldn’t have time to see her for a while.
Emma had clung onto that phrase – for a while. There was hope in that phrase, she thought.
Emma fetched fresh water from the tap in the corner and filled the tin vase that was set into the tablet of the memorial stone Seth had paid for on her mama’s and Johnnie’s grave. She began to set the roses in, one by one, turning them this way and that for the best presentation.
‘Emma?’
No need to guess who the speaker might be. She knew. Didn’t she hear his voice every night in her head as she went to sleep?
‘Hello, Seth,’ she said, standing up, turning to face him. She took a deep breath. She was laying her heart on the line and she knew it. ‘I hoped you might be here. It’s been ages since I’ve seen you. I’ve missed you.’
‘Mmm,’ Seth said, lips pressed together.
Emma waited for him to say he’d missed her, too, but he didn’t. He didn’t think anything of her any more, did he? He didn’t have any flowers with him, though, did he? Unless he’d already placed them on his ma’s grave? Emma resisted the urge to look and see if he had.
‘I expect you’ve heard about Carter,’ Seth said.
‘Only rumours.’
‘They’re not rumours any more. Evidence is piling up and Carter will be in Court again at some stage, charged with Sophie Ellison’s murder. I saw you walking this way, so I followed you. I didn’t want to write to you about it in case the letter got into the wrong hands and you were questioned. But in case you hadn’t heard …’
‘I hadn’t. Not that bit. The bit about him having to go to Court again, I mean,’ Emma said. She twisted her hands over and over, anxious that she might be questioned, that the police would call at Nase Head House. She could well imagine the alarm that would cause – and the rumours that would go with it.
‘Don’t worry,’ Seth said. He patted Emma’s hand lightly before taking it away again. ‘I haven’t told anyone what Carter tried to do to you, Emma. Even though I was asked if there was anything I knew that could be held against my brother.’
‘Thank you,’ Emma said. ‘I don’t think I would be able to bear it if I had to go to Court, swear on the Bible, face Carter across a courtroom.’
‘It’s why I kept quiet,’ Seth said.
‘Thank you,’ Emma said again. Seth still cared about her if he was trying to save her from that ordeal, didn’t he? ‘And I’m sorry, truly sorry, that the Jago name will be all over the newspapers again, on everyone’s lips in the inns and …’
‘I can cope well enough with that,’ Seth said. ‘I don’t think there’s anything about my pa’s and brothers’ behaviour that can shock me now. Let’s change the subject, shall we?’
Please, Emma thought, please – yes, let’s change the subject. Ask me to walk down to Crystal Cove with you so we can pick up where we left off. Hold me in your arms again, give me that second kiss I’ve been waiting so very long for.
‘It’s my half day,’ Emma said, smiling up at him. ‘We could …’
‘I’m sorry, Emma, I can’t do what I think you’re about to suggest. I’ve been seeing someone,’ Seth interrupted.
Well, of course he had. A handsome man like Seth. She was stupid not to have thought of that before laying her soul bare before him.
‘Who?’ Emma said, knowing she was looking even more stupid now by asking.
‘I’d rather not say.’
‘Someone with more money to spend on finer clothes and shoes and hats than I have, no doubt. Is she rich?’
Emma only had two hats. Her navy blue felt for winter – the hand-me-down from the doctor’s wife – and the straw one she’d bought for pence and was wearing now against the hot July sunshine. At the moment, her straw was trimmed with a green ribbon the colour of a Granny Smith apple – no doubt her face was the same shade she was so jealous.
‘I can’t tell you that either.’
Seth took a watch from the pocket of his jacket, glanced at it and replaced it.
‘Then don’t let me keep you from her,’ Emma said, trying to salvage what dignity she had left. ‘Whoever she is.’
‘You’re not. But I wanted you to know about Carter before …’
‘Does she know?’ Emma knew she’d made the word ‘she’ sound like something best left in the gutter, and she hadn’t meant to. It just came out.
‘Yes. She reads the newspapers, Emma. Although I have, of course, spoken to her about it.’
‘Oh,’ Emma responded, not knowing what else to say. Seth was someone else’s now.
‘I’m sorry,’ Seth said, ‘that things turned out between us the way they did. I …’
‘Don’t apologise,’ Emma said.
‘But I must. There’s nothing I’d like more at this moment than to spend your half day with you, but it would be discourteous. In the circumstances.’
‘So don’t,’ Emma said.
She turned her back on Seth then, bent down to finish arranging the roses for her mama and Johnnie, fully aware that it was Seth who had provided the tablet with their names on, and the tin vase. ‘Thank you for letting me know about, about …’
‘Carter,’ Seth finished for her.
He knew she was struggling even to say the name, didn’t he? He still cared. Dared she hope he might finish with whoever it was he was being so secret
ive about and ask her out instead?
She stood up and turned to face him. Smiled. Willed him to give her some sign that he might.
‘I’d better go,’ Seth said.
He was looking at her the same way he’d looked at her just moments before he’d kissed her down at Crystal Cove – it seemed so long ago now, and yet only yesterday at the same time.
‘Before you kiss me again?’ Emma whispered, shredding every last ounce of decency and dignity.
‘Yes,’ Seth said.
He kissed his fingertips and blew the kiss towards Emma, before turning on his heel and rushing back down the path.
Emma threw herself into her work at Nase Head House and tried to forget all about Seth – or rather she waited for Seth to contact her and tell her he was no longer seeing anyone at all and that he would like her, Emma, to walk out with him instead.
But Seth made no contact with her, beyond two brief notes to tell her that the enquiries into Carter Jago were still ongoing – there seemed to be no end to it, he said. He signed his notes ‘Yours, Seth’ – except he wasn’t hers, was he?
So, on her half days, instead of going into town to shop or to go to the bank to deposit her wages, where she might bump into Seth, she stayed close to the hotel. If the weather was fine then she took Isabelle out in the perambulator that Mr Smythe had bought at huge expense from a catalogue. It had wheels almost as big as cart wheels, Emma thought, but it was easy enough to wheel over the rutted paths of the lanes behind the hotel with Isabelle laughing and smiling at everything. She would do just that today. And while she was there she’d see if there were enough blackberries to go with the apples for a tarte tatin.
Almost before she knew it, July had given way to a busy August, the hotel full with visitors. Emma had been fully occupied with the twins in their holiday from school, happy that they were becoming almost fluent in French. And now September had come around once again.
‘Letter for you,’ Mr Bell said, as Emma made her way to the boot room to fetch the perambulator. She’d done her best to walk quietly so that Mr Bell, who seemed to be getting more hard of hearing by the day and should be pensioned off in Emma’s opinion, wouldn’t hear her. But he had.
Another letter? From Seth? Her heart hoped it was the letter she’d been dreaming and wishing for, but her head told her it more than likely wasn’t.
‘Thank you,’ Emma said, taking the proffered letter.
No, not a letter. It was too stiff for that. A card. A birthday card? It was her seventeenth birthday and she’d been doing her level best to forget it was. There’d been no £5 notes from Mr Smythe this morning, as there had been on her sixteenth birthday when Matthew Caunter had called to take her out for the day.
Perhaps the card was from Matthew?
She hurried on her way to the boot room, where she would be able to open her card in privacy.
It was from Seth. A birthday card. A simple drawing of some roses. Peach roses like the ones she’d been placing on her mama’s and Johnnie’s graves when last she’d seen him. The choice of card told Emma that he was still thinking of her.
Did that mean he’d finished with whoever it was he’d been seeing and would call on her soon?
Chapter Sixteen
‘Don’t be stupid, Seth,’ Olly said. ‘Of course you’re going to be there. You’re a client as well as a friend.’
‘I know that. But I’m still not going,’ Seth said.
Olly was inviting him to a dinner he was giving for his clients at Nase Head House, and he wasn’t going there – especially as Caroline was also going to be there. She’d told him as much. It wouldn’t be fair to Emma – he knew how she felt about him, and Caroline was bound to speak to him at some stage during the evening, wasn’t she? Discreetly, or under the cover of other people present. But Emma might see, and he didn’t want to hurt her anymore than he already had.
‘One excellent reason why not,’ Olly said. He called for the barman to pour another pint of ale into his and Seth’s tankards.
Seth was glad of the lull in the conversation – it gave him time to formulate his reply.
‘Because,’ Seth said, resuming their talk as the barman went to serve another customer and they were alone again with no one within earshot, ‘and this is strictly between you and me, I know you’ve invited Caroline Prentiss …’
‘I’m not sure I follow? I have invited her, yes, because I’ve built a boat for her father, and …’
‘Olly, stop. I’ve been seeing Caroline Prentiss. Discreetly.’
‘You should have said before. Older woman. Experienced. You dog. But for your information, I’ve done the seating plan now. And as it happens I’ve already seated you together. My thinking was you’re a single man, she’s a widow, so pure chance on my part …’
‘Well, undo it. I want to end things with Caroline.’
‘Ooooh, feathers will fly. I bet you’ve enjoyed the bits under the bedcovers, though?’ Olly laughed. He gave Seth a playful punch on the arm.
Seth shrugged. He didn’t have to answer that.
‘Anyway, like I said, the seating plan has gone to the hotel now. Couldn’t you do me a favour and turn up? It’s a bit late in the day for me to find a single male to sit beside the charming-the-pants-off-you Mrs Prentiss.’
‘I don’t know …’
‘You could tell her you want to end things, sotto voce, over the dessert,’ Olly said.
‘She’s going to love that,’ Seth said, unable to stop a smile from turning up the corners of his mouth.
‘So you’ll come. Good. Now, how about some mutton stew to go with this beer?’
‘Why not?’ Seth said, although he didn’t think he’d be able to swallow a mouthful. He only had himself to blame for the situation he was in, didn’t he? And therefore, he was the only one who could get himself out of it.
‘I don’t know I should be showing you this,’ Ruby said, rushing into Emma’s room. ‘And I’m certain you ain’t going to want to know. An’ if I gets caught up here instead of doing me work then I’m for the chop. Only I knows you’re sweet …’
‘What, Ruby?’ Honestly, Ruby could be so irritating at times. ‘What’s that you’ve got to show me?’
‘A card, Em,’ Ruby said. ‘Me and Stephen Bailey’ve been set to laying the place settings for Mr Underwood’s dinner …’
‘Why you? That’s Harry’s job.’
‘He’s gone sick, hasn’t he? The influenza. It’s all over town like a rash of measles. Well, up this side of the harbour it is. If Harry’s got it then we might all go down with it, and …’
‘Don’t be so dramatic, Ruby,’ Emma said, although inside she was terrified the influenza might rip through the hotel. She wasn’t fearful for herself so much, but for Isabelle – she was a baby still. ‘The card?’
Emma held out her hand, and with a sigh, Ruby placed the card on it.
Emma turned it over.
Fishcombe Marine Celebratory Dinner
Saturday, 10th December, 1910
Mr Seth Jago
‘But that’s not all, Em. Oh, I was so pleased at first to find it. I thought maybe you could be about and speak to him. But his card was right next to one with Mrs Caroline Prentiss’ name on it. Why is Seth sitting next to her? She’s a widow, so Stephen said, God only knows how he knows. I didn’t stop to ask.’ Ruby took a deep breath and prattled on. ‘Oh, Em, you like Seth, don’t you? I know you haven’t had a minute, not even on your half day, to see him, have you? Well, I’m guessing you haven’t ’cos you ain’t spoken to me much about him in a while. Is Seth seeing Mrs Prentiss now?’
Ruby seemed to have run out of things to say – or breath, or both.
So that was who Seth was seeing? Why would he have been seated next to Mrs Prentiss otherwise?
�
��By the look on your face, if you didn’t know before you do now. And you don’t much like it. What’s he doing with her? She’s ancient.’
‘Ancient?’
‘At least thirty, I’d say. And Seth’s …’
‘I know how old Seth is, thank you.’
‘So did you know?’
‘I knew he was seeing someone,’ Emma said. She handed the place-setting card back to Ruby. ‘You’d better put this back where it belongs before someone notices it’s gone missing and comes looking for it. Now, run.’
Ruby ran.
And Emma put her head in her hands and let the tears come. It was going to be too much to see Seth with Mrs Prentiss.
‘Please, God,’ she sniffed, ‘if you’re listening, let me have a touch of Harry’s influenza by tonight. Just enough to be indisposed so I have to stay in my room. But not enough to kill me.’
God hadn’t been listening.
Or if He had, He’d given the influenza to the wrong person. Mr Bell. Emma had seen him being escorted to his room, coughing and spluttering and looking very poorly indeed, by Stephen Bailey.
When Mr Smythe came into Isabelle’s bedroom where Emma was settling the child for the night, she felt her stomach plummet to somewhere around her knees. She was dreading what Mr Smythe was going to say.
‘We must hope Isabelle falls asleep quickly, and stays sleeping,’ he said. ‘You see …’
‘Why?’ Emma said.
‘If you’d let me finish … Mr Bell is indisposed. I will need you to take his place this evening. I can’t ask you to wait at table because you haven’t been taught how. But you’ll be able to manage taking the coats easily enough, I’m sure. We have an important dinner. Clients of Fishcombe Marine.’
Emma already knew about that – Ruby had shown her the card, hadn’t she? Besides, she’d overheard two of the waiters debating how much they were likely to get in tips.
To Turn Full Circle Page 22
