The Consul's Daughter

by Jane Jackson

  ‘An accident. A stupid, senseless accident.’ Caseley wrapped her arms across her body. ‘Mother had hired a pony and trap to take me out for a birthday treat. She loved to drive herself. But when we went out as a family, Father wouldn’t let her. He and Ralph used to take turns while Mother and I rode in the back.

  ‘She took me round Castle Drive. It was a beautiful spring day. The sun was shining and there was a breeze off the sea. The hedges were full of primroses and red campion. Bluebells lay like a carpet among the trees. We could see the fishing fleet out in the bay. The outer harbour was busy with ships entering and leaving Falmouth, their masts crowded with canvas. I remember seeing the steam ferry coming past St Mawes Castle.’ She paused for a moment as images crowded back, still vivid.

  ‘We had just rounded Castle Point when two fighting magpies flew out of the hedge right in front of us. The pony took fright. It reared then started to bolt. Mother wrenched on the reins. One wheel hit a fencepost and the trap turned over. We were both thrown out onto the road. The pony trod on my foot and crushed it. Luckily the coastguard was doing his round and saw what happened. He got help and they pulled me away and managed to calm the pony.

  ‘I couldn’t understand why Mother didn’t come to comfort me. My foot was already swollen and hurt dreadfully. My new dress was dirty and torn and streaked with blood from all the grazes. She just lay there by the hedge, not scratched at all, just very pale. Then someone said her neck was broken.’

  Caseley had not realised she was crying until Jago turned her towards him. He wiped the tears from her cheeks with gentle thumbs then cupped her face between his hands.

  Her vision was blurred. As scalding tears spilled over her lashes, her breath caught in her throat, and her heart stuttered, missing a beat.

  He was gazing at her with a dark intensity that made her tremble. She sensed a battle raging in him and felt herself grow hot. His rough hands so gentle on her face made her crave more. She wanted his arms around her; wanted to be held. The need, the hunger, terrified her. She gripped his wrists and drew his hands down.

  ‘Forgive me – I am not usually so weak.’

  He released her. Turning away she fumbled for her handkerchief, quickly wiped her eyes and swallowed the painful ache in her throat. ‘I have not spoken – tried not to think – Telling you brought it back. I miss her.’

  ‘There is no shame in grief,’ he said quietly. ‘And no one could ever call you weak.’

  She looked round, pushing a loose curl back from her damp forehead. ‘But –’ she stopped as one dark brow rose, daring her to argue with him.

  ‘Who took care of you?’

  ‘Rosina, Mrs Renfree, our housekeeper. She was widowed young and has lived with our family since I was a baby. She’s been wonderfully kind to both Ralph and me. As I grew up Father insisted I take responsibility for running the household. I couldn’t have done it without her help. But it changed our relationship. She said that was as it should be. But –’ She stopped, shook her head.

  ‘You were lonely.’

  She looked up quickly. How had he known? How had he heard what she hadn’t said? She gave a tiny nod.

  Holding her gaze he rested one elbow on the sash and linked his fingers. ‘I am my father’s only son. He has always been ambitious, for himself and for me. He has family connections in Mexico. So after he had made enough money from his business interests in Spain, he bought into silver mines there. He also breeds and sells pedigree cattle.

  ‘I remember as a small child being placed on a pony and led around his estate in Castile. He told me that one day it would all be mine. But I did not want it. I wanted to go to sea. The day I told him was the day I grew up. I saw part of him die and knew I was responsible.

  ‘But I also knew I had to carve out my own destiny. For a long time we both suffered. He considered me ungrateful. I was angry that he did not understand my need to be my own man, the man he had raised me to be. The family took his side.’ He shrugged.

  Caseley stared at him. This arrogant, demanding man was admitting loneliness? She felt a rush of empathy. ‘And now?’

  He moved away from the window. ‘Now, there is great affection, and even greater respect. Each of us has a star to follow. We must be true to ourselves or risk the consequences.’

  ‘My brother –’

  ‘I know about your brother. He is older than you, yet still a child. When he finds the courage to be honest with himself then he will become a man.’

  ‘You sound – hard.’

  ‘Perhaps. I am not a patient man. But I demand no more from others than from myself.’

  ‘Not everyone is as strong as you.’ She was amazed at her own temerity in speaking so openly to him.

  ‘We are all capable of far more than we imagine.’ Reaching out he caught her hand. ‘You, for instance: who would have suspected such strength, such capability?’

  Acutely aware of the latent strength in his warm fingers, struggling with the emotions his touch aroused, she took refuge in tartness. ‘You certainly have an unusual way of paying a compliment.’

  He laughed softly, his teeth very white against his dark beard. He studied her face, his gaze growing shuttered as his amusement faded and she grew hot under his scrutiny.

  Releasing her hand, he turned once more to the window.

  ‘Has your father spoken to you of his intentions?’

  She struggled to adjust. His moods changed swiftly and without warning. ‘I don’t understand. What intentions?’

  ‘You know he is dying.’ Though the words were blunt, his tone was not unkind. She was about to deny it, to say what she so wanted to believe, that her father had many months of life ahead of him. But the awareness in Jago’s eyes stopped the words before they reached her lips. She nodded, unable to speak.

  ‘Does he know?’

  ‘Yes.’ She cleared her throat. ‘But we have not spoken of it. He wants everything to continue as before.’

  ‘So he has not told you what he plans to do with the yard?’

  She shook her head. ‘I assume he will leave it to Ralph –’

  ‘Who does not want it,’ Jago pointed out.

  Caseley shrugged helplessly. ‘I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it.’

  ‘You must.’

  ‘Why?’ she cried. ‘What is it to you anyway? Why should you care –’ she stopped abruptly as dread gnawed a hollow inside her. ‘Unless –’

  ‘Unless?’

  ‘You want the yard. You have shares in Cygnet. You want Will’s job as senior captain. But why this?’ She flung her arm wide in a gesture that encompassed the house. ‘How does this fit into your plan?’

  ‘It doesn’t.’

  ‘Then why ask me such questions? Why drag me into your dealings with my father?’

  Tension shimmered between them as he gazed at her, slate-eyed and tight-lipped. Abruptly, he turned away. ‘Why indeed?’ he muttered in harsh self-mockery. ‘Come, I will see you home.’

  Caseley walked quickly from the room before he could touch her. Even his formal gestures of politeness, his palm cupping her elbow, a handshake, set her heart pounding and heightened her confusion. Rather than ask herself why, it was safer to avoid all contact.

  ‘We can get a cab from the Greenbank Hotel,’ he said as he locked the front door.

  A middle-aged woman wearing a blue and white printed cotton day dress and a straw hat stood in the tiny front garden of the house next door. She held a pair of scissors and was snipping the dead heads off some roses. Caseley guessed she had been behind the twitching curtain.

  ‘’Afternoon,’ the woman said with a bright smile.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ Jago replied pleasantly. Caseley merely nodded.

  ‘Moving in, are you?’

  ‘Not just yet,’ Jago said before Caseley could open her mouth. ‘There’s a great deal to be done first.’

  The woman nodded. ‘Been empty for a while, it has. Still, it’s some lovely family home.�
� Her sharp eyes flicked between them. ‘Plenty of room for children. I got four so I know what I’m talking about. Now they’ve built that there new sewer, we’re having one of they proper flushing water closets. Always had a privy up the garden before. But ’tis no joke in the winter. Nor when the children are ill. All that to-ing and fro-ing is enough drive you mad. I expect you’ll be having one put in?’

  ‘I expect so,’ Jago agreed, and placed a hand in the small of Caseley’s back. ‘Please excuse us. Nice to have met you.’ He flashed a charm-filled smile and the woman simpered like a dewy-eyed girl.

  Caseley walked quickly down the path. The warm pressure of Jago’s hand on her waist was too possessive. She had not the sophistication to ignore it. Nor could she control the rapid pounding of her pulse.

  ‘Why did you do that?’ she hissed as they reached the pavement and were out of earshot.

  ‘Do what?’ he appeared surprised but removed his hand. ‘I was under the impression you wished to leave.’

  ‘I was – am. I didn’t mean that,’ she retorted. ‘Why did you allow that woman to think that you – that we –’ she felt heat in her face and wished she hadn’t said anything. ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘Does it matter what she thinks? I feel no obligation to explain myself to her. Do you?’

  ‘No. But –’

  ‘Then why worry? We both know the truth. Why should we concern ourselves with the opinions of people who don’t matter?’

  Caseley said nothing as her thoughts whirled like windblown leaves. Maybe he was right. How could they explain without causing even more speculation? Besides, what was the truth? Certainly there was no attachment between them. Though no longer strangers, they were not friends. She irritated him. He infuriated her.

  Her life and his were becoming inextricably tangled. Her father claimed there were good reasons. Jago would not explain his. And she – she didn’t know what she felt.

  He was silent, abstracted, as they rode back to the other end of town. Her thoughts fluttered like a cage full of birds. Yet despite the tension that vibrated between them, this afternoon had subtly altered their relationship.

  The direction her life was taking seemed fraught with danger. But it was outside her control and there was no turning back.

  ‘When do you intend to begin work on the house?’ His abrupt question made her start.

  ‘I – I hadn’t thought,’ she blurted in total honesty.

  ‘I would like to move in this year.’ His tone was dry. ‘Hotel life has lost its appeal. May I suggest you start tomorrow?’

  ‘I can’t. I haven’t had time to –’

  ‘I will go to the bank in the morning. Aside from oil for all the hinges, you will first require a plumber and a mason. The house is already connected to the main water supply so the installation of a proper bathroom with a geyser for hot water, an overhead shower above the bath, and a new water closet should have priority, don’t you agree?’

  As she’d had no idea where to start, Caseley was relieved. ‘Where should the bathroom go?’

  ‘Where would you propose?’

  About to tell him it was none of her business, she caught the warning glint in his eye and decided not to risk antagonising him. She closed her eyes and tried to recall the layout of the house.

  ‘That small room behind the main bedroom on the first floor?’ She turned to him. ‘Then the waste pipes could go down the wall into a drain at the side of the house and join up to the new sewer.’

  ‘I see I shall be free to devote my attention to other matters.’

  The implied compliment warmed and terrified her. ‘What about the tradesmen?’

  He shrugged. ‘You have lived in the town all your life. You should know who best ones are, and who to avoid. Your task is to organise the work and the people to do it. I will arrange the finance.’

  ‘But – the wallpaper, curtains, furnishings – what colours …’

  ‘I leave that to you,’ he waved a dismissive hand.

  ‘No. I cannot take that responsibility. What if you hate the things I choose?’

  ‘Why should I?’

  ‘Because,’ her chin rose, ‘because I have no taste, no sense of style.’ She tried to suppress anxiety and deep lingering hurt with anger. ‘You implied as much when you pressed my father into agreeing this arrangement.’ She shook her head. ‘None of this makes sense. You say you want only the best. So why pick me? Why –’

  ‘Enough!’ His tone made her flinch. ‘I do not plan to abandon you entirely. I shall follow progress with great interest.’

  ‘I do not doubt it. Waiting for my first mistake. What then? More taunts? More derision?’

  ‘God give me patience,’ he muttered. ‘Cruel tyrant that I am, I did not wish you to feel I was watching your every move. I wanted you to have time to –’ He controlled himself with an effort. But Caseley’s heart sank as she saw his expression harden. ‘Surely there is nothing unusual in what I ask? Do not all women consider men totally without judgement in such matters?’

  ‘But … I am not … This is your house, your money.’

  ‘Precisely. Mine to do with as I please.’ As the hansom rocked to a halt, Jago leaned towards her, his eyes gleaming. He tilted her chin, making her burningly aware of their closeness in the confined space. ‘And it would please me very much,’ he said softly, ‘if you would do as you have been asked, accept that I trust you, and stop arguing.’

  Chapter Nine

  Still wearing his nightshirt, his clothes over his arm, Thomas crept across to the door. Hearing the bedsprings creak he tensed.

  ‘Thomas?’ Margaret’s voice was thick with sleep. The bed creaked again as she sat up. ‘What time did you get in last night?’

  He turned the doorknob, still clinging to hope of escape. ‘Don’t let me disturb you, my dear.’

  ‘I’m awake now, so you can stay right here.’

  Reluctantly, he released the handle and turned back, dropping his clothes on the ottoman at the foot of the bed.

  ‘Well? I’m waiting.’ Margaret’s mouth was tightly pursed as she removed her bed cap and began to unplait her hair.

  ‘I told you I would be late.’ His attempt to placate succeeded only in sounding defensive as he pulled on his trousers before taking off his nightshirt. ‘It was business.’

  ‘At that time of night?’

  ‘People have commitments. They aren’t always available during the day.’ His hands trembled as he buttoned his shirt.

  ‘I was worried sick. You know what this town is like at night. All those lewd women. They don’t even wait for darkness. Shameless, they are.’

  Thomas glanced up. ‘You were afraid I had been kidnapped by lewd women?’ He felt a trace of wistfulness.

  ‘There’s no call to be vulgar. I heard something shocking yesterday. You should have been here so we could discuss what to do.’

  The roaring in his head made Thomas sit down suddenly on the ottoman, his back to his wife. His heart was racing and perspiration beaded his forehead and upper lip. He had been found out.

  No, he hadn’t. Teuder had not done the audit yet. When he did there would be nothing to find. It had taken him until midnight but he had altered the books so the losses did not show. Now the money was back in the bank, all the figures balanced.

  He sucked in a shaky breath. Everything was fine. Colenzo would not say anything. The man was a shark. But as long as the repayments arrived on time he’d keep his mouth shut.

  Could Luke have let something slip? Brandy and bitterness might have loosened his tongue, made him careless.

  Dare he risk continuing? But if he didn’t, how would he be able to repay Colenzo? Why had Luke been talking to that arrogant half-breed, Barata?

  ‘Thomas, you’re not listening to me,’ Margaret nagged. ‘It’s a disgrace. Lord knows what people will think of us now that Caseley has got involved with that – that person. I don’t know what Teuder is thinking of to allow it.’

&nb
sp; Straightening her voluminous nightgown she stood up. ‘Where is that girl? She knows I must have my warm water in the mornings. You have no idea what I have to put up with, Thomas. Then you stay out half the night –’

  ‘Shut up, damn you!’ His voice teetered on the edge of desperation.

  ‘Ohhh,’ Margaret collapsed onto the bed, one hand flying to her mouth. ‘How could you speak to me like that? Here I am, worried out of my mind –’

  ‘What about me?’ Thomas turned on her. ‘Don’t you ever think about anyone but yourself? What does it matter who Caseley takes up with? You have a daughter of your own. If you must worry, then worry about her.’

  ‘I am!’ Margaret wailed. ‘It’s her I’m concerned for. Can’t you see what might happen?’

  The violence had drained away, leaving him spent and shaking. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Teuder must know. In fact he must be encouraging this – liaison between Caseley and Captain Barata –’

  ‘Who?’ Thomas croaked. ‘Who did you say?’

  ‘I wish you’d listen. Barata, Jago Barata. You must know him. He’s one of Teuder’s captains, master of the Cygnet. Thomas, what if Teuder is planning a match between them? God knows, Caseley hasn’t much to recommend her. But then that man is not like us. He probably doesn’t have the same tastes we do, or the same idea of beauty for that matter.’ Margaret’s pursed and bitter mouth indicated that as far as she was concerned, Jago Barata had no taste at all. ‘If Teuder sees this man as the only hope of a husband for Caseley, he might do something foolish.’

  ‘No,’ Thomas whispered. Shock and fear were paralysing his ability to think.

  ‘Caseley is twenty-one, and lame,’ Margaret went on. ‘Any man prepared to wed her will seek a sizeable dowry. Ralph has no interest in the business. What’s to stop Teuder leaving the yard to Caseley? If he does that and she marries Jago Barata, what will become of us then, Thomas? You, me, and Charlotte?’

  ‘You might have it all wrong. I’ve met Barata. He doesn’t look like a man who could be bought.’ Thomas recalled cool grey eyes and lightning appraisal. He had felt his soul stripped bare and his guilt exposed. Glancing back as they left the dining room he had seen the speculative gaze following Luke and himself.