by Jane Jackson
‘No.’ The word was wrung from her.
He turned slowly. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Congratulations would be out of place.’ She laid the folder on the desk with exaggerated care, squaring the corners. ‘I only did what was necessary. There is nothing praiseworthy in that.’
He caught the anxiety in her voice and wondered. ‘I cannot agree. Such devotion, such a sense of duty and responsibility cannot go unmarked. I shall make a point –’
‘No!’ She made a heroic effort to control herself. ‘It is not your concern, Captain. Please, I – I beg you, don’t …’ She fell silent under his scrutiny.
‘You beg me? And with such passion,’ he murmured, comprehension dawning. ‘I doubt Caseley Bonython has ever begged for anything in her life. Most women seek compliments like water in a desert, but you –’
‘Forgive me, Captain Barata.’ She drew herself up, her face taut with dislike. ‘I should have known better than to request anything of you. I do not wish the matter spoken of because …’ She swallowed. ‘Because my father did not know what I was doing.’
‘I see. May I ask the reason for this deception?’
Caseley hugged herself as if cold. ‘To protect him.’
Jago was sceptical. ‘From what?’
She half-turned to gaze out of the window. Several seconds passed and he could see her trying to decide how much to tell him. ‘No one knew how ill he was, not even the family. He made me promise … he was afraid the business would suffer.’
‘I assume from what you’re saying that there were occasions when your father was not capable.’
Her eyes flashed splinters of ice. ‘Rare occasions, Captain, very rare. I saw no reason then, nor do I now, to –’
‘Shatter his confidence? I agree entirely, Miss Bonython. No purpose would be served, especially as he is now sufficiently recovered to take control once more.’
‘He never relinquished it,’ Caseley shot back.
‘No?’ He enquired softly. As a tide of dusky rose flooded her face her eyes defied him. But he gave her no chance to reply. ‘Still, no doubt you will be pleased to withdraw from this unfamiliar world and return to more feminine occupations.’
‘I don’t follow you, Captain.’ Her gaze was stormy, her tone quiet and controlled.
His gesture encompassed the paper-laden desk, the small writing bureau in the corner, the shelves stacked with boxes, files, and ledgers.
‘Surely you are out of place here?’ It was unusual for a young woman to accept such a burden of responsibility. Even more unusual for her to acquit herself so well that only one person guessed the depth of her involvement.’
Was that why she disturbed him in a way no other woman ever had? Though neatly dressed, she seemed totally uninterested in her appearance. A sensual man himself, he recognised passion in her of which she was totally unaware.
She irritated him yet he could not get her out of his mind. She didn’t fit into any of the categories to which he usually assigned women. That offended his sense of order.
He heard her soft intake of breath.
‘Perhaps ladies of your acquaintance are rarely required to use their brains,’ she retorted with acid sweetness. ‘However I should have been of little help to my father were my only accomplishments the ability to play the piano and discuss the finer points of fashion.’
‘Rest assured it had not occurred to me to credit you with either of those attributes. Good day.’ He inclined his head, pausing in the doorway. ‘You gave your father my message?’
‘Of course.’ Her eyes were glacial, but the hurt in their depths made him despise himself. That made him even angrier.
‘Then I will return tomorrow so we may agree terms.’
‘I shall be occupied elsewhere.’
‘Did you not hear me? I said we. That means your father, myself, and you.’
Her eyes widened. ‘But – I am not – It has nothing to do with me.’
‘On the contrary, we both know you are deeply involved.’ He pulled the door wider. ‘I trust you will not fall victim to a sudden indisposition.’ Twin spots of colour staining her cheekbones told him the thought had crossed her mind.
‘Until tomorrow, Miss Bonython.’ He closed the door quietly behind him.
Chapter Seven
Teuder Bonython leaned back in his chair and nodded. ‘This is more like it.’ He sighed with deep contentment.
Caseley knew the twin patches of crimson on his cheeks were not a sign of good health but evidence of his damaged heart labouring. His clothes hung loose on his large frame, the bones of his face and skull were clearly defined, and his grey-white hair lay flat and thin. But his smile was broad and his watery eyes twinkled.
‘I’ve missed this place. Open that window a bit more. I want to hear the town.’
She did as he asked. A hansom had picked them up outside the front door and dropped them in the courtyard of Bank House. The stairs had seemed endless, but her steady flow of chatter had covered the slowness of their ascent. Even so, by the time they reached his office, he had been breathing heavily.
Hanging up her cape and his hat and coat she had seen pain flicker across his face, and started towards him, but he had shaken his head.
She busied herself around the office, to allow him a few moments in which to recover, and to hide the dampness on her lashes.
If he could pretend then so must she. It would be all too easy to fuss over him and so reveal her deep concern. But he would hate it, and it would be self-indulgent on her part.
‘I still say we should have stopped off at the yard,’ he grumbled. ‘Dammit, we had to pass the gate. It wouldn’t have taken long.’
A knock on the door made Caseley jump. Busy with her father she had managed to avoid thinking about Jago Barata. But now they were in the office, not knowing when he would appear, each footstep in the passage, each knock on the door, stretched her nerves ever tighter.
The door opened and Sam peered round holding a bundle of letters. Caseley hurried forward to take them, fearing the clerk’s reaction on seeing the change in his employer. ‘Back to normal, eh, miss?’
Caseley managed a smile. ‘Back to normal, Sam.’
The clerk withdrew and she placed the letters in front of her father. ‘You’re needed here, Father,’ she said gently. ‘I know you’d rather be in the yard. But Toby is following your orders and everything is running smoothly.’
She shivered as fear rasped her nerves. Jago Barata had promised to say nothing about her part in keeping the yard functioning. But could she trust him?
Teuder grunted. ‘You open them.’ He leaned back in the chair, resting his head. ‘Cutting down a tree to build a ship, that’s right and proper. A ship has a heart and spirit. But destroying forests to make paper,’ he shook his head. ‘That’s terrible.’
The door opened. Taut as a bowstring, Caseley glanced round then relaxed as Richard bustled in.
‘I heard you arrive but I was –’ He broke off, his warm smile of welcome fading as he came face to face with his brother for the first time in two months.
‘Good morning, Uncle Richard.’ Her mouth smiled while her gaze begged. ‘We heard voices in your office. I told Father you’d be along as soon as you were free.’ She watched her uncle struggle to hide his shock.
‘Yes. Yes, indeed. It is good to see you once again in your proper place, Teuder.’ His sincerity made Caseley’s heart swell with gratitude. ‘We have missed you, though less than we expected, for Caseley has coped admirably.’
‘So I should hope,’ Teuder was gruff. ‘All she had to do was relay my instructions.’
Caseley lowered her gaze. He didn’t intend to hurt. He was simply stating what he believed to be the truth. Dr Vigurs had warned that her father would feel resentful. He had never been ill in his life and equated it with weakness, something to be ashamed of and denied. Compliments on her performance in his absence rubbed salt in his wounded pride.
The door opened again. As
Caseley turned, her pulse quickening, Thomas entered. Catching sight of Teuder he stopped.
‘My God!’
‘No,’ Teuder said, droll and impatient. ‘Just me. I suppose you’ve noticed I’ve lost a bit of weight. Feel all the better for it too. Now we’ve got that out of the way, I want to know why we’re losing Liverpool cargoes to Broad’s. Richard, Jimmy Morrison is still our agent up there, isn’t he? Find out what he’s doing. He’s not being paid to let another company steal our bread and butter. Thomas, those balance sheets were pretty enough but I’ve got a feeling they’re not telling me the whole story. I shall do an audit next week and I want the books, all the books, up to date and on my desk by Wednesday.’
Seeing both men about to protest, Caseley linked her arms through theirs and drew them out into the passage.
‘Try to understand,’ she pleaded. ‘It’s his first day back. He’s just settling in.’
‘And unsettling everyone else,’ Thomas retorted resentfully. ‘He doesn’t look fit to be out of bed.’
‘He’s like an old tom cat marking his territory.’ Richard’s smile was perceptive. He sighed. ‘I’d better put a squib under Jimmy Morrison.’
‘Stop that whispering,’ Teuder roared. ‘Caseley, get back in here. There’s work to do.’
With an apologetic smile to her uncles, she went back into the office. But as she turned from closing the door her breath caught. Her father was slumped in his chair, eyes closed against the pain that tightened his mouth and scored grooves in his forehead. One hand was pressed to his upper chest. The other clutched the chair arm.
She grabbed the bottle of drops from her case. Biting her lip as she tried to steady her trembling hands she measured out a dose, relieved she had remembered to tell Sam to put a tray with a glass and carafe of fresh water on one corner of the desk. Stirring the mixture she held it to her father’s lips.
‘This will help.’ Her calm voice betrayed no hint of the terror flooding her body. It couldn’t be yet. Months, Dr Vigurs had said. Please not yet.
Draining the glass he lay back, breathing heavily. Caseley recapped the bottle and moved the tray, watching him.
His breathing eased and he began to relax. His eyelids flickered then opened.
‘I’ll send Sam for a cab to take you home.’ Relief weakened her legs. ‘This is your first day back. Best not to overdo it.’
‘I’m all right,’ Teuder rasped. ‘Just give me a minute. I’ll be fine.’
‘Father, please –’
‘Stop your fussing.’ What his voice lacked in strength it made up for in irascible determination. ‘I’m staying. I didn’t ask you to come in today. It was your idea. If there is something you would rather be doing, go and do it. Sam can see me home when I’m ready to leave.’
Caseley turned away. She did not want to stay. But how could she leave him? If he had another attack – if he could not reach the drops – overshadowing it all was the spectre of Jago Barata. If she was not here, if he carried out his threat to tell her father … She had no choice.
She swallowed the ache in her throat. ‘There is nowhere else I would rather be, Father. If I seem to fuss it’s only because I care. I will try to control it.’
‘All right then.’ He cleared his throat loudly. ‘Let’s get this blasted paperwork out of the way.’
Caseley drew the visitor’s chair close to the opposite side of the desk and reached for paper and pen. After reading the first two letters and dictating replies, her father pushed the third across to her.
‘Here, you read it to me. No sense keeping a dog and barking yourself.’
She saw the drops were taking effect. Now the pain had gone he was becoming drowsy. Settled comfortably in his chair, his fingers linked over his waistcoat and what remained of his paunch, his gaze wandered round the room as she read a request from the owner of a Penzance trading ketch for a new main lower and top mast within ten days.
‘Last time I was in Penzance was in ’72,’ he mused. ‘Toby and his son and two nephews came with me in Ada to see the Channel Fleet. There was a big sea running but the wind was fair and Toby had every stitch of canvas he could lay hands on up that mast. We were flying.’ He smiled at the memory.
‘Those ironclads were a sight to behold. Anchored about a mile off the pier head they were. Little steamers were taking parties out for a closer look. Sultan, Achilles, Agincourt, and Black Prince, names to stir the heart and put fire in a man’s belly. We got quite close to Minotaur. Twenty-six guns she had, and five iron masts. That ship weighed ten thousand tons if she weighed an ounce. That was a day to remember.’ He nodded, lapsing into silence.
Caseley leaned over the desk and moved one of the ledgers across in front of her father. ‘Shall I stop by the yard later and ask Toby if he’ll be able to accept Mr Tresawle’s ketch? They’re very busy at the moment.’
Behind her the door opened. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickled and her stomach clenched. She knew without looking that Jago Barata had entered the room.
She tried to hide panic she could neither explain nor control. Laying her notepad and pen carefully on the desk she rose and turned, her face carefully expressionless.
‘Good morning, Captain.’ Her voice was calm and clear despite the sensation of standing on shifting sand.
‘Good morning, Miss Bonython.’ His coolness matched hers. Then taking her completely by surprise, he caught her right hand and raised it to his mouth, brushing her knuckles with warm lips that sent tiny flames along every nerve.
Her breath stopped in her throat and she snatched her hand back, furious at the scalding blush. Clasping her hands, she rubbed her knuckles, not caring what he thought, desperate to erase the sensation of his mouth.
One black brow arched and his eyes gleamed. Then he walked past her to greet her father, extending his hand across the desk. Teuder leaned forward to grip it with both his.
‘Good to see you again, Jago. How did it go?’
Standing to one side, Caseley watched Jago as he gave a brief account of cargoes and ports of call during his two-month absence. Not by the flicker of an eyelash had he betrayed the shock he must have felt at her father’s changed appearance. Perhaps after what she had been forced to tell him, he had prepared himself – but for a moment her dislike and mistrust were pushed aside by gratitude.
It didn’t last.
‘So, that is the past. Let us look to the future. Your daughter told you of my proposition?’
‘She did.’
Caseley looked away. She had reminded her father of Will Spargo’s years of loyal service and prior claim, urging him not to give way to Jago Barata. He let her finish then demolished every objection.
‘You can’t afford a soft heart in business, girl. I know Will’s value, and I’ll see he don’t lose by it. But Bonython’s can’t afford to miss this chance. If I don’t make Jago Barata chief captain, Broad’s or Fox’s will.’
‘Let them,’ Caseley cried. ‘We don’t need him.’
‘Don’t be so bloody daft, girl.’ Teuder had been testy. ‘You don’t give an advantage to your rivals. Has your sense gone begging? Seems to me you’ve taken against him, though for the life of me I can’t think why. How many times have you spoken? Once? Twice?’ He had shaken his head in disgust. ‘Dear life!’
What could she say that he would understand? He was talking competitors and potential profits. All she had was intuition.
‘He’s a pirate.’
Clearly startled, her father had nodded, admiration stealing across his tired features. ‘Could be you’re right. But then so was I. We’re the ones who run risks. We push hard. We take what we want, and pay for it,’ he added. ‘But we get things done and build something that will last long after we’ve gone.’
It was the first time he had mentioned a future in which he had no part. It had cost her dearly not to react.
‘I’d be a fool to turn him down. I have faults a-plenty, but I’m not stupid. He’s half Spa
nish. He speaks the lingo. He can negotiate new contracts and markets that will put Bonython’s leagues ahead of our competitors. Not just in Spain, but South America. And we need ’em, make no mistake about that. The railways are taking a good part of our freight, and road hauliers are developing their own transport networks at competitive prices. We have to develop our foreign trade. That’s where the future lies.’
‘Don’t you agree, Miss Bonython?’ Cool and ironic, Jago Barata’s voice jerked Caseley back to the present.
She looked up at him and the amusement in his grey eyes told her he was well aware her thoughts had been far away.
Her skin burned but she did not shrink from his gaze. ‘I’m afraid I wasn’t listening, Captain.’ His mouth twitched at her candour. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I will leave you and my father to discuss your business privately. It is not my concern so –’
‘Indeed it is,’ Jago interrupted.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Then allow me to explain.’ A smile still hovered at the corners of his mouth, but his eyes were as hard as granite. ‘I made your father a business proposition. I believe he is about to accept it. However, there is something I wish to add.’
‘I’m not looking for further inducement, Jago,’ Teuder grunted. ‘I reckon we’ll both do well out of the arrangement.’
‘We will. This is no inducement. I am making a request. No, a demand,’ he amended without taking his eyes from Caseley.
She stared back, her breath and heartbeat quickening as apprehension crawled along every nerve.
‘Demand, is it?’ growled Teuder. ‘Go on then.’
Jago rested one lean hip on the edge of the desk. ‘My maternal grandmother died some months ago and has left me a property along Greenbank.’
‘Nice houses, they are,’ Teuder said. ‘You planning to sell it?’
‘No, I plan to live there. Though it is structurally sound it has been empty for over a year. My grandmother was ill for several months before her death and stayed with relatives in Redruth. The garden is a wilderness and the house needs completely redecorating. As I am away at sea much of the time a task of such importance must be handled by someone I trust.’
