Sarah's Story

by Helen Susan Swift

  'In that case, Sarah,' Hugo took my hand, 'you deserve a kiss.'

  I proffered my lips but instead Hugo kissed the back of my hand, a la France, taking the time to comment on my most splendid ring.

  The meal was excellent although I must say the meat was a trifle underdone. My Mother did not approve, as one glance at her face told me. I gave her a smile, to which she responded without in the least being able to hide the glisten of tears in her eyes.

  'Time to cut the cake,' Mother announced with false gaiety.

  There was a round of polite applause as William lifted the cake from the top table and had two servants carry it to the longer table further down the room. Naturally everybody gathered around to watch. I flinched as William suddenly drew his sword, and wondered if he had suddenly gone crazy or was he merely going to slice up a few of our guests to clear a space around the cake. However, it was neither as he soon explained.

  'There is a tradition in the Regiment,' William said, 'that when the commander of the company gets married, he must cut the cake with the sword.'

  'When did that tradition start?' A spotty young ensign asked.

  'Right this minute,' William flourished his sword, with the long silver blade glittering in the light of a hundred candles. 'Stand back, ladies and gentlemen!'

  The ladies and gentlemen all stood back, as did the people of lesser status. At that time I was not sure in which group I belonged; I did know that I was as happy as I ever had been with William; I did not know that the feeling was only temporary and would never come again.

  'William,' the voice was low and deep, 'did you get another stone for my ring?' I did not know the tall woman who walked through the guests straight toward my husband.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  'Amelia?' I had never seen William look so startled; or so guilty. 'What are you doing here?' He glanced around him, 'you should not be here.'

  'William,' I said, 'who is this woman?' She was about thirty, with an angular, arrogant face and clothes that might suit a governess or a duchess who cared little for the opinion of anybody else.

  'This woman,' Amelia spoke in a voice that could crack glass, 'is Mrs William Chadwick. And who pray, are you?'

  I felt as if the bottom had fallen out of my life for a second time. In that instant I knew that my marriage was doomed yet I straightened up and faced Amelia eye-to-eye. 'I am also Mrs Chadwick,' I said, 'I am Mrs William Chadwick.'

  Her slap took me by surprise. My return slap astonished her. To judge by her reaction she had not expected me to retaliate; perhaps nobody had ever hit her before in her life. I did not mind being the first. She squealed and recoiled, holding her face with both hands.

  'William!' I faced my husband, 'what is the meaning of this? Who is this woman?'

  As William stared at me with his mouth open and his cake-smeared sword looking so silly in his hand, Mr Howard's voice broke what was a very awkward silence. 'This woman, the woman that you just slapped, is Captain William Chadwick's wife, Mrs Amelia Chadwick.'

  'Oh,' I said. I would have apologised for slapping her if she had not hit me first. As the full realisation of Mr Howard's words hit me, I said: 'If that is William's wife then what about me?'

  Mr Howard shook his head. 'I am very sorry, Miss Bembridge, or rather Mrs Baldivere, you are not married to William Chadwick. This lady is the Captain's first, real and only wife. Bigamy is not legal in Great Britain.'

  I stared at him in incomprehension. I was aware of all the people around me, of the white faces staring at me and the mixture of malice and sympathy from officer's wives and true friends, yet I felt entirely alone in that crowded room. Truth to tell I felt as if the Mrs Bertram of the portrait was watching me, her eyes seeming to grow in size the longer I stood there in my misery. At last I spoke:

  'Bigamy?' I said in a very small voice that nevertheless sounded like the blare of a trumpet within a locked closet.

  'I am afraid so,' Mr Howard said. At that moment I could not have hated that man more if he had been Boney himself. I already guessed that he had searched for, located and brought the first Mrs Chadwick to my wedding, although I thought then it was out of pure wickedness.

  'So I am not Mrs Chadwick?' I said as my dreams of the future crumpled into dust. I was not to be a captain's wife; I was not to hold court at regimental balls and functions; I was not to have dominion over these sharp-nosed, critical women with their expensive gowns; I was not to travel to places as exotic as Dublin, Edinburgh and London. I was to remain an inn-keepers daughter in the Back of Wight, skivvying for fishermen and drunken smugglers.

  'Nor ever will be,' Amelia Chadwick said with utter malignance. Stepping closer, she wrestled the ring from my finger. 'I will have my ring back, if you please, madam.'

  I did not resist. How could I? I stood there with the hot tears running down my face and my life in tatters as the officers' wives made their exit, sweeping their gowns aside as if touching me would soil them.

  'I am sorry,' Mr Howard said. I saw him lift a hand as if to comfort me, but I was not to be comforted. How can one be comforted when one's whole future has collapsed and one's dreams and aspirations have been proven a sham?

  I saw Amelia Chadwick hustle her husband outside and knew she was railing at him, yet I cared not a damn. I knew he may be prosecuted for bigamy and his career would be ruined; the name and reputation of his regiment would suffer and his life would never be the same again yet that did not matter. I saw my mother step toward me and I ran. I did not want sympathy; I did not wish for help; I had no care for soft words and soothing arms. I wanted only what I could never have. Instead I ran outside Knighton Hazard, past the chapel of so much heart-break, past the folly to woman's folly in choosing a poor husband and up to the Downs. There was only one place where I could find peace.

  I sat in the shelter of the Long Stone with my wedding dress clinging to me in the soft rain and the Downs stretching around me, mute and quiet save for the sounds of nature. Twice now I had viewed the future with hope and twice fate had played a cruel trick that robbed me of happiness.

  At that moment I was as close to despair as I ever had been in my life. Despite the beauty of the day, despite the host of butterflies that played around me, despite the liquid calling of the birds and the soft hushing of the wind, I could see nothing but bleakness. I do not know how long I was there. I only know that sometime later, maybe hours, maybe days, Molly found me and led me to her cottage.

  'Bad times,' Molly said as she helped me out of my wedding dress and into more sensible clothing.

  'Bad times,' I agreed. I noticed Charles standing in the background. He stepped toward me with his hand outstretched. His smile looked vaguely familiar although I did not have the inclination to pursue that thought. 'You're up, I see,' I said.

  'You are down, I see,' Charles replied.

  I tried to smile, failed dismally and felt my head spinning.

  'I've got you, Sarah,' Charles said, as I fell into his arms.

  It was two days before I returned to the Horse Head and the customers could not have been kinder. It is in times of duress that one really learns what people are like, and in my darkest times the people of the Back of Wight were there to support me. Mother, of course, was unchanging, working me like a dog and always there when I voiced about my troubles, while Mrs Captain Nash came in to offer silent sympathy and support.

  When I think of that period of my life, there are no specific incidents that stand out. I remember talking to Mother about Mr Howard, and her listening to me while I called him every name I could think of in language that would have disgraced the most disreputable of marines. Mother listened without interruption and without mentioning my choice of words.

  Eventually, when I had cursed myself dry, she put one finger under my chin. 'Now think, Sarah,' she said gently, 'how much worse it would have been if Mr Howard had not been suspicious of Captain Chadwick, and what might have happened if he had not prevented the wedding being consummated.
You could have been the mother of an illegitimate child, born out of wedlock. That would have been a burden that followed you all of your life, a woman with no reputation except bad. You would never have found a respectable man then, or found a decent life.'

  I stared at her, unwilling to accept that the man I had learned to hate with such ferocity may have in fact been helping me, in his own way. I humphed at that and stormed away with my head held high and my boots stomping on the floor. It was only after much reflection that I knew Mother was correct, and although I never admitted my mistake, I knew that she knew I had recognised the fact. After that I was able to be nearly civil to Mr Howard again. There was no need to be civil to Captain Chadwick and the Volunteers as they did not return to the Horse Head. Their custom was missed but not their company and I hoped that the people in Dublin treated them as they deserved. I did not know that my path, and that of Captain Chadwick, was to cross again in the near future.

  'Did you love him?' Molly asked me as she and I sat with Charles outside her cottage. It was midsummer now, with butterflies colouring the air and one of her goats nuzzling Charles for food.

  'Did I love him?' I pondered that question, aware that Charles was paying more attention to me than to his four-legged companion. 'No, I can't say that I did. I liked him and admired him, but I don't think I loved him.'

  'Well then,' Molly said. 'Best rid of him now than live in a loveless marriage.'

  'Don't wives and husbands grow to love each other?' I asked.

  'So they say,' Molly snorted, 'although in my experience they are more likely to grow apart when the reality of life bites. Either you love your man or you don't.'

  I looked up at the swelling downs where fields of wheat swayed in unison to the swish of the breeze. 'Maybe you are right,' I said.

  Charles looked at me and smiled.

  'The sea is busy today,' Molly nodded to the Channel, where a battered looking brig ushered a small convoy past the Needles, those fascinating but wickedly dangerous rock stacks that act as a sea-mark on the south west coast of Wight. 'That's the second London-bound convoy today and I am sure I saw a flotilla thrust its topsails over the horizon an hour past.'

  'Maybe they expect Boney to come tonight.' I looked at Charles. 'Do you know anything about that?'

  Charles shook his head. 'I am not even sure that I am French,' he said in his so-attractive French accent. 'If they come, then the Navy will be ready for them.'

  'I hope so,' I said, honestly.

  Charles did not smile. 'It was a dirty trick Captain Chadwick played on you,' he said, 'giving you his wife's ring as a present and pretending to marry you.' He pushed the goat gently away. 'You are too good for him, Sarah.'

  It was so unusual for Charles to give his opinion on anything that I could not help but stare at him. 'Well Charles, thank you. He is a gentleman though, and I am only an inn-keeper's daughter.'

  Charles shook his head. 'No gentleman would act so,' he said, 'while you have always acted like a lady with me, and I have heard nobody say a bad word against you.'

  'Not even Kitty?' I asked after a pause. One must always keep an eye on one's best friend after all, especially is she is named Kitty Chillerton.

  'She has always praised you,' Charles said, 'when you were not here to hear her.'

  That shut me up, I can tell you. I had always viewed Kitty as the best of rivals and the most double-faced of friends, and here she was being nice about me behind my back. 'Wonders will never cease,' I said, making light of things even while I wondered about this new revelation. First I was told that Mr Howard had acted out of kindness and not malice and now I learned that Kitty maybe even liked me after all.

  'She was quite right in what she said,' Charles continued.

  I could hear no more of this. I was not used to praise of any sort and did not know how to react. 'I don't wish to know.' I said.

  Molly smiled. 'It might do you good to hear what others think of you,' she said.

  I was already walking away. I had my own opinion of me and I would not have it altered by that of others, particularly that hussy Kitty.

  Mr Howard was in the Horse Head when I arrived, sitting in his usual seat and having his usual fresh fish followed by his usual Vectis pudding. 'Good evening Sarah.' He looked at me oddly, 'how are you today?'

  I told him I was well, and apologised for not being there to look after Chocolate.

  'He does prefer your touch,' Mr Howard said, 'you have a way with animals.'

  'Thank you,' I said, wondering why everybody was being so nice to me that day. 'You are looking more cheerful.'

  Mr Howard smiled. 'I may have located that elusive smuggler,' he said, 'and tomorrow I have some friends arriving who are very good at finding people.'

  I felt my heart give a great lurch at that. I had no desire to see Charles dragged away and hanged or whatever it was Mr Howard had in mind for him. 'Oh,' I said, foolishly before my wits collected themselves. 'Where do you think he may be?'

  'After scouring the island from end to end,' Mr Howard said, 'I think I have located him in a cottage not far from here.'

  'That is good,' I sat down at Mr Howard's side. 'Could you tell me where?'

  'Not exactly,' Mr Howard said, 'but a patrol of Yeomanry was marching past Berry Hill when they saw a young man on his own, a stranger they said, or an Overner, as the locals called him.'

  'I see,' I said, feeling sick. Molly's cottage was tucked into the side of Berry Hill; trust the Yeomanry to be passing just when Charles happened to be outside. 'I wish you joy of your search, Mr Howard.'

  'Thank you.' I started when he put a hand on my wrist. 'How are you, Sarah, after your upset?'

  I was not sure how to answer. 'I am better now, thank you.' I still found it hard to meet his gaze.

  'I did not like to disrupt your wedding.' Mr Howard spoke urgently, as if my opinion of him mattered. 'I tried to locate Captain Chadwick's wife before things were out of hand. I did not wish to tell you before in case I was wrong.'

  I nodded. 'It was not nice when it happened.' That hand was patting my sleeve.

  'It could not have been at a worse time,' Mr Howard said.

  'It could have been after I was with child,' I repeated what Mother had said to me and watched the slight surprise on Mr Howard's face.

  He nodded slowly. 'That is something I had not considered. Well said, Sarah, and bravely said as well.'

  'You did me a great kindness, Mr Howard,' I said, although the words nearly stuck in my throat. 'I have a great deal to thank you for.'

  Mr Howard's hand was busily patting my sleeve. 'You have nothing to thank me for, my dear, nothing at all.'

  Now, you may be wondering how I was feeling when Mr Howard, a man old enough to be my father, was treating me in such a manner. Well, I was not enjoying it very much, let me assure you. After David who was about six years older than me, then William who was twelve years older, having Mr Howard, at least twenty years older than me being a little too friendly did not please me greatly.

  'That is twice you have had an unfortunate experience at a wedding,' Mr Howard reminded me. 'You will be wondering if fate is against you.'

  'I have thought that,' I admitted, pulling my arm clear.

  'There will be another man,' Mr Howard said, 'and a better one.'

  I shook my head. 'I am not looking for another husband. Two in the one summer is enough for now, thank you.'

  Mr Howard lifted his pot of ale. 'Perhaps there is a husband looking for you.'

  For some reason I felt a shiver run down my spine. 'I doubt that, and I hope not, Mr Howard.' I tried to make it obvious that I was not interested in a man of his age as I stood up and answered the call of another customer. All the same I could feel him watching me as I bustled around the tap-room. I tried to ignore him yet at the same time there was something reassuring about his presence.

  No, I told myself. He is far too old for me. And I was right to think that.

  Chapter Twenty-Two
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  As I left the Horse Head that night, there was another of these Channel fogs blanketing sound and reducing visibility so an Overner would not know a tree from a chime and would probably fall over the edge of a cliff and break his neck were he fool enough to attempt to walk abroad. However I was a Caulkhead born of generations of Caulkheads so my blood and bone belonged to Wight as much as the island belonged to me. I moved quickly through the dark, hearing the rustle of my skirt and the hollow thump of my feet on the damp ground above the muted hush of the surf and the distant clamour of a bell as some ship signalled the change of watch.

  Molly was waiting for me, with an anxious looking Charles standing behind her.

  'Are you ready?' I hissed.

  'We are,' Molly said. I could hear unfamiliar tension in her voice. 'I am sure there is somebody moving out there.'

  I stopped to listen. There was silence except for a distant owl and the constant hush of the sea. 'I can't hear anything,' I said. 'It was probably a poacher.'

  'I know all the poachers and how they move,' Molly said.

  'Do you want to stay here?' I looked back the way I had come. I knew that mist distorted sound so that distant noises appear close. 'Remember that Mr Howard will be knocking on your door tomorrow.'

  'No, he cannot stay here; it's not safe for Charles,' Molly said.

  We had readied bundles of necessities to keep Charles comfortable in Limestone Manor and we hefted them onto our backs as we left Molly's cottage. Molly and I knew the way and kept Charles in between us to guide him over the rough farm tracks and smooth grassland of the Downs.

  'Don't stray,' I warned him, putting a hand on his arm as we came to a stile.

  'What's that?' Charles stopped as there was the sound of feet ahead and something loomed out of the mist. For a moment we stared into two sets of green eyes and then the creature lumbered noisily away, joined by others of its type.

  'Only sheep,' Molly said. She sniffed the air. 'There is something abroad tonight; there is something not right in Wight.'

  Now I am not normally a superstitious woman but when a born and bred Caulkhead, particularly one with a penchant for the spiritual like Molly, thinks that something is not right; then there is reason to worry. 'Let's get Charles safe to Limestone Manor.'