White Water

by Pamela Oldfield

  Steven Kennet, who worked for her father, knew it. Now he looked into the blue-green eyes and his own were narrowed with shock.

  ‘Betrothed?’ he cried, almost stuttering in his dismay as his emotions churned desperately. ‘’Tis news to me. You spoke nothing of a betrothal. What of me, and my love? Am I nothing to you? Tell me ’tis a lie Eloise.’

  She stared at him coolly, enjoying his dismay. So he did love her. He had never said so before and she had tried often enough to wring the admission from him. Almost as often as he had tried to persuade her to submit to his passion. Neither had been successful. Eloise remained a virgin and Steven remained unsatisfied. And now it seemed time was running out for him. His face darkened and he leaned forward, his face close to hers as she leaned back against the open door. Through the doorway the slanting rays of the afternoon sun pierced the gloom of the lean-to store behind the shop, picking out coils of rope, barrels of tar, chests and trunks full of locks, hinges, handles and an assortment of buckets, baskets and brooms.

  The shop itself fronted the road and, by rights, Steven should have been there, for trade was flourishing and Friday was always a busy day. But James Ballantyne had sent him out to the store to fetch a rope sample and there he had found Eloise waiting for him, with the news that had so shattered his composure.

  ‘’Tis no lie, Steven,’ she told him calmly, ‘nor jest, either. His parents are on their way at this very moment, come all the way from Devonshire.’

  ‘But you’ve no need to take him!’

  ‘Mayhap I’ll want to. Think on that, Steven Kennet.’

  ‘But — but you said you love me. You promised yourself to me. Spoke it with your hand on your heart! You can’t deny it.’

  ‘I don’t deny it,’ she said with a slight toss of her head, ‘but I cannot disobey my parents and he is rich, this Allan Kendal. And a grown man of twenty-one.’

  ‘And you fourteen and only half grown!’

  She lowered her eyelids so that he should not see her expression. Half-grown, indeed. Who did he think he was to speak thus to her? He was no more than a hired man with no prospects — and he had never said he loved her. Now he would regret his reluctance. She turned her head away, and looked out towards the tangle of masts and rigging that was the river Medway. The waterfront hummed with activity and occasional shouts and snatches of song came to their ears above the interminable flap of sails.

  From the shop James Ballantyne roared: ‘Steven! What’s keeping you, lad?’ and panic showed in the boy’s eyes. He was sixteen and lusty and no longer a virgin. He had taken two girls to date, one willing and one not so willing. This one was proving more difficult than he had expected, but he had felt fairly confident of the ultimate outcome. Now time was of the essence. She was about to be snatched away untried. He cursed his luck inwardly while his mind raced. How could he pluck this ripe peach before she was handed to another? He had waited patiently for her surrender but now it seemed he would have to change his tactics.

  ‘I’m coming!’ he shouted in answer to his master, then seized Eloise roughly by the shoulders, forcing her to turn and face him. ‘And I’ll be back again so you wait for me, d’you hear? I’ll think of an excuse and I’ll be back. Answer me, Eloise. I’m telling you to wait for me. D’you hear me?’

  ‘I do, Steven Kennet, and I’ll thank you to keep your hands to yourself. You don’t know your own strength and you’re hurting my shoulders.’

  She tried to wriggle free but he leaned his full weight against her, pinning her to the door. Her body sprang into an unwilling awareness of his and she saw the desire smouldering in his eyes.

  ‘You’d find how strong I am if you’d so much as nod your head,’ he boasted. ‘I’ll, wager I can show you more tricks than your so-called betrothed.’

  ‘Then you’d lose your money,’ said Eloise triumphantly, ‘for he’s been wed already and you haven’t. His wife’s dead.’

  ‘Dead? What of?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She wriggled again as his lips moved against her own. ‘Get off me, I say. You’ll get nothing out of me, Steven Kennet, until you say the words — and maybe not then!’

  Steven relinquished her mouth and let his right hand rest against her thigh. Slowly it travelled upwards until it cupped her breast and he saw her eyelids flicker with delight. If words were all that held her back she should have them.

  ‘What words is that?’ He stalled for time as his fingers slid under the lace and down over her cool, softly rounded flesh to feel for the small nipple that stood up eagerly against his fingertips. Her father roared again and Steven, cursing, withdrew his hand. He leaned forward suddenly and flicked her parted lips with his tongue.

  ‘Be here when I get back!’ he warned, but as he turned to go she snatched at his sleeve.

  ‘You know the words,’ she said. ‘If I don’t hear them I shan’t wait.’

  He looked at her beautiful face which glowed with a combination of mischief and desire. He felt his body stiffen and saw her eyes go down to it in triumph.

  ‘Say it, Steven,’ she begged him, her eyes imploring through the half-lowered lashes.

  He took a deep breath. ‘I love you, Eloise. I want you and by Christ I’ll have you as soon as I get back. I swear you’ll not go to your betrothed a virgin — nor will you regret it.’

  She closed her eyes to hide the satisfaction which welled up inside her. So he had said it at last! Steven Kennet had said he loved her. He had persisted for nearly three months, but she had won. There was no need to endure his company further.

  ‘Quick!’ He was tugging her inside the doorway, into the gloom of the store, pointing to the ladder that led up the sail loft. ‘Wait for me up there,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back.’

  He snatched up the required rope and ran round the side of the store back to the shop. Eloise waited, listening to his retreating footsteps. Then she smiled, rested her hands on her hips and said, ‘So, Steven Kennet plans to deflower Eloise Ballantyne.’ Throwing back her head she laughed aloud and ran back to the house and up into her bed-chamber. She watched from the window until she saw him hurry back towards the store, relishing the thought of his disappointment. She waited until she saw him come out again, his face furious. He glanced up at her window and she waved a dismissive hand, then turned away, humming lightly to herself. Allan’s parents should arrive before nightfall and she was eager to meet them. She did not doubt for a moment that they would find her acceptable but she wanted to impress them. She would ask her mother if she could wear her best apricot silk. If she said ‘No’ she would ask her father.

  *

  Maria and Hugo arrived at the Jarman’s boatyard earlier than expected. They were greeted lovingly and were soon refreshed and eager to meet the girl who might one day be mistress of Heron. Abigail sent out one of the servants to the Ballantynes with a message that the guests had arrived.

  The lad returned with the message that James and Stella Ballantyne would call on them at nine o’clock with their daughter, Eloise. They had already eaten but would welcome a glass of madeira.

  ‘There!’ Cried Abigail, clapping her hands with excitement. ‘They will be here at nine o’clock! Oh, Maria, I do hope you like her. I am sure you will. You have come so far it would be a tragedy to be disappointed by her but I don’t think you will. Indeed, I think you will find her in every way suitable. Won’t they, Adam? Oh do say something, Adam. I am chattering like a magpie, I am so nervous.’

  ‘Calm yourself, Abby,’ he laughed. ‘It will hardly be such a disaster if they do not like her. But I agree with you.’ He turned to Maria and Hugo. ‘We do not know Eloise very well but I know her father. He is a good neighbour and honest in business. We have spoken with the girl on several occasions and I don’t doubt for a moment that all he said about her is true.’

  ‘She has such a sweet face,’ cried Abby, ‘and a smile that would melt icicles. She was a bonny little girl but is suddenly, in the last year, grown into a young lady. Oh Ada
m, they must be charmed with her.’

  It was Maria’s turn to smile. She leaned forward and patted Abby’s plump beringed hands.

  ‘If you say she will make Allan a good wife, I see no reason to doubt it,’ she said warmly. ‘We are grateful to you for your interest. ’Tis never easy to find a wife for a son and more difficult to find a second wife. There must always be comparisons.’ She shrugged. ‘’Tis natural enough and the boy still grieves for Harriet. He is so pensive and his eyes seem to stare without seeing.’

  Abby looked anxiously at her husband and then back to Maria.

  ‘He is … ’ she searched for an appropriate word that held no hint of criticism, ‘ … recovered?’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ said Hugo, almost too hastily. ‘You must not heed Maria. He is quite recovered. He was always pensive and he has lost someone dear to him. We are convinced that a new wife will gladden his heart.’

  They all fell silent at once and the pause became an awkward one. Adam stood up. ‘Then we’ll drink to that,’ he said. ‘I have a fine madeira. We will have a toast to a possible union between Allan and Eloise. And we will let matters take their course.’

  While he busied himself with the new Italian glasses of which he was very proud, Abby’s chatter filled another awkward silence.

  ‘’Tis such a joy to see someone from home,’ she said. ‘I love my home and I love the river but sometimes I long for Heron — to see you all and my dear Lissa. Is she well? Since my chicks have flown the nest I feel the need to talk, to be with someone of my own. Adam doesn’t understand. Men don’t, I think. Melissa must feel it, with Oliver so far away. I thank God none of my boys have gone to sea. Poor Lissa. At least mine are all safely wed and within reach. I am really most fortunate and shouldn’t grumble.’

  ‘Melissa is content,’ said Maria. ‘She has news of him from time to time. Sometimes a letter, sometimes a visit from a fellow seaman on his way home. He threatens to turn up at the door one day without warning.’

  The glasses were filled and handed round. ‘A toast — ’ she began, but at that moment there was a loud rapping on the door and she lowered her glass.

  ‘That will be them,’ said Adam and they heard the maid run to open the door.

  Maria and Abby patted their hair and straightened their skirts and the two men rose to their feet as the Ballantynes were ushered in. Mother and father were introduced first and then they stepped aside to allow Eloise to come forward. Maria could not restrain a gasp of delight.

  ‘My dear!’ she murmured and glancing at Hugo saw that he, too, was pleasantly surprised. Eloise wore a gown of apricot taffeta which accentuated the colour of her eyes and hair. She dropped a brief curtsey and smiled shyly at them all in turn then cast her eyes down demurely.

  ‘So you are Eloise,’ said Hugo and he turned to James Ballantyne who stood proudly by, awaiting their reaction. ‘Adam did not exaggerate your daughter’s charm,’ he said. ‘She makes a pretty picture.’

  Abby beamed her delight and a bench was drawn up to accommodate James and Stella and a stool was brought out for Eloise. She sat down gracefully with her knees drawn up, her skirts well down, hands clasped about her knees. She was slightly lower than the others and when she looked up the effect of her eyes was startling. Hugo was entranced and Maria thought delightedly of the effect the girl would have on Allan. Surely such a charming girl would make him happy and would bring him out of his self-imposed isolation. More glasses were filled and a toast was drunk, to Queen Elizabeth.

  Then the talk turned naturally to news of the Queen and the perennial questions were raised. Would Elizabeth ever wed and if so who would she choose? Spain had wooed her unsuccessfully and the house of Valois in France had had no better success. Some thought she would never marry if it could not be the Earl of Dudley.

  They toasted the future safety of the realm and the prosperity promised by expansion and trade abroad. As the wine flowed the company relaxed and the talk ranged easily from politics to personalities and from personalities to fashions.

  Eloise joined in from time to time, but otherwise maintained a charming deference towards her elders. Whatever the topic under discussion she was the centre of attention and the reason for which they had come together. The thought gave her great satisfaction and she played her role with remarkable poise. When asked to sing she did so readily. Her voice was sweet and she sang in tune and with a natural sense of rhythm.

  The evening wore on and all were reluctant to end it. The Ballantynes were impressed with the Kendals and they, in turn, found James and Stella good company and could not fault the family. Abby’s round face glowed, partly with wine and partly with the success of her scheme. It was arranged that Eloise would visit Heron in the near future and meet Allan. If the young couple liked each other plans would be made for a betrothal.

  Only one thing marred the evening. A thundering on the front door just before midnight frightened them and sent the three men out into the dark street, armed with their pistols. They found no one and the meaning of the incident remained a mystery — except to Eloise, who kept to herself the realization that it was Steven Kennet expressing his frustration in the only way he could.

  *

  ‘Allan! A word, I beg you.’

  He turned to see Maria hastening towards him down the steps. Behind him the river ran cold and swift — the river in which Harriet had died. He often sat there, his thoughts heavy, his mind full of grief. Here he need make no pretence but could allow his fancies full rein. Could imagine that Harriet sat beside him, her small neat head against his shoulder, her slim fingers twined in his. Here by the water he could be alone with his thoughts where the sounds of the river soothed and refreshed his tired spirits. Reluctantly he stood up to greet her. He had expected Maria to approach him since her return from Rochester the previous day. Now he must listen to her account of the visit and a description of the young woman of whom his aunt had written with such enthusiasm. Maria had referred casually to the matter before they left for Kent and he had tried to convince her of his indifference. Harriet’s sweet ghost was still with him, haunting him, and he had told Maria that she need not find him another wife.

  ‘I’ve looked for you this past hour,’ she told him breathlessly. ‘No one has seen you since noon and Minnie thought you had gone to the mine but Jon said “No” you had not taken the mare.’ She smiled at him as he made room for heron the fallen tree trunk which served as a seat. ‘Where were you?’ she persisted.

  ‘Here.’

  ‘All this time? ’Tis not good for you to be so inward looking, Allan.’

  ‘Grief is ever a lonesome state,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Only if you will not share it,’ said Maria. ‘We want to help you, Allan. Let us share your grief.’

  He made no reply and the conversation faltered and Maria fussed with her skirts in an effort to disguise her nervousness. Allan made no attempt to help her.

  ‘You do not ask if we enjoyed our visit to Rochester,’ she said.

  ‘I am certain you did. You and Aunt Abby have always been close.’

  ‘Indeed we have. We are more like sisters than sisters-in-laws. Dear Abby. She was in good spirits. A little older and a little plumper but such cheerful company. And Adam also. They made us most welcome.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  Maria tossed a twig towards the river but it fell short and she gave a soft exclamation of annoyance. The silence lengthened and still Allan gave no sign that he knew the purpose behind her presence beside him.

  At last she sighed deeply and made a small helpless movement with her hands. ‘Will you not ask me, then, Allan? About the Ballantyne’s girl? About Eloise?’

  Allan’s expression hardened. ‘You know my feelings on that matter, Maria. I spoke clearly before you left for Rochester. Must I pretend an interest I do not feel? If so then — do tell me about the Ballantyne girl. ’Tis a pointless exercise but — ’

  ‘You would not speak that way i
f you had seen her,’ Maria cried. ‘She was beautiful, Allan! A real beauty! I swear I don’t exaggerate her charms. Abby did not do her justice in her letter. I was stunned by her and so was Hugo. You’ll see for yourself soon enough but in — ’

  ‘So you have invited them to Heron?’

  It was less a question, more a reproach. Maria glanced at his face and her nervousness increased.

  ‘But I told you we would do so, Allan,’ she stammered. ‘You asked me if I objected to them paying us a visit.

  ‘I said I was indifferent on the subject. I still am,’ said Allan.

  He stared out across the water. His face was impassive but his tone was grim. Maria recognized with despair the stubborn streak that he had shown since childhood. Once his mind was made up he was usually unshakable.

  ‘But when you see her, Allan, you will feel differently, I know it. She will melt your heart as she did ours. Oh Allan, will you not consider her for my sake? For the sake of Heron if not for yourself. You must remarry, Allan. And Eloise will be a bride that all men will envy! She has a radiance — such confidence and poise. She can talk intelligently and sing and is a good cook — ’

  ‘Quite a paragon, it seems,’ Allan said coldly. ‘But is she gentle or loving? You do not say so.’

  ‘But indeed she is. At least, I’m sure on it! Aye, she is all those things. Say you will be courteous to her Allan. Promise that you will consider her in all fairness. That you’ll reserve judgement until you meet her.’