by Jane Jackson
She had known that sooner or later this would happen. It had been brewing for weeks. Richard was nothing more than a catalyst.
As she sat down again his expression of regret was contradicted by the spite in his eyes. Why? she wondered. What have I ever done to him? Then she remembered the first time he had come to the house.
Her father and William were at the office, her mother out visiting relatives, and Frances at a meeting. She had been in the drawing room sorting and listing linen given by other Friends for the poor mothers’ Lying-In Home.
‘If you please, miss,’ Agnes had poked her head round the door, ‘there’s a gentleman to see Miss Frances.’
‘Has he brought the slates and chalk for the Day school?’ The maid shook her head. ‘I didn’t see none, miss. He’s holding a bunch of flowers.’
Susanna’s brows climbed. The only gentlemen to call on Frances were those connected with her charitable work.
‘I expect she’ll be back any minute, miss,’
Detecting a note of anxiety Susanna interpreted it as concern that once frightened off this rare bird might not return.
‘Then you had better show him in, Agnes.’
The maid disappeared returning a few moments later. ‘Mr Richard Webber, miss.’
‘Good afternoon, Mr Webber,’ Susanna closed the ledger in which she had been listing the linen and walked towards him offering her hand. His fingers were damp and soft. She fought the urge to wipe her hand down her skirt. ‘Isn’t it lovely to see some sun at last.’
He jutted his fleshy chin forward as if his collar was tight. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Elliot.’ He seemed unable or unwilling to meet her eyes. Because of his father’s fondness for alcohol and his mother’s ill-health he often cut a rather lonely figure among the other Quaker families.
‘What beautiful flowers,’ she smiled, indicating the sheaf of daffodils and jonquils he carried. Had they been simply a random choice? Or was he aware that they signified the desire for returned affection? ‘Their fragrance is truly the breath of spring.’
‘Indeed,’ Richard agreed with ill-concealed impatience, ‘Has your sister been informed that I am here?’
Drawing on the good manners that had been drummed into her since early childhood Susanna swallowed her instinctive antipathy towards this pompous little man only a few years older than herself. ‘I’m afraid Frances is not back yet.’
His frown was accusing as though this were somehow her fault. ‘Not back? Where is she then?’
His supercilious manner rasped across her nerve ends like a grater. But he was the first man ever to bring flowers for Frances. If she had to bite her tongue to keep him here until her sister returned then that was what she would do. But her cheeks were beginning to ache with the effort of maintaining her smile.
‘Frances had a committee meeting this afternoon. You know how they can overrun. I’m sure she will be here shortly.’ Ignoring Richard’s sniff of irritation she indicated the sofa. ‘Do come and sit down.’
His expression grew even more disapproving. ‘I think not, Miss Elliot. In fact I think it would be best if I leave and return at a more convenient time.’
‘Please, that really isn’t necessary.’ Frances would be devastated if she came back only to find she had missed him. She would assume Susanna had not made enough effort to make him feel welcome. ‘Don’t go,’ she entreated. ‘You are not keeping me from anything urgent.’
He tilted his head back, his porcine gaze oddly bright as his mouth pursed in righteous indignation. ‘So you would amuse yourself by trying to entice your sister’s suitor? Shame on you, Miss Elliot.’
Shock drove all the breath from her body. ‘I? Entice you?’ She burst out laughing. ‘How could you possibly think …? The idea is utterly ridiculous.’
His mouth sagged open. He seemed stunned by her reaction.
Her laughter had been involuntary. Her remarks intended simply to put his mind at rest, to assure him she had no designs upon his person. But his crimson flush of humiliation indicated severely wounded pride. Scorn at his conceit in imagining she found him the least bit attractive battled with rising anger that he dared assume she would do something so hurtful. But for Frances’ sake she had to ignore her own feelings and try to make amends.
Footsteps on the path outside made her look quickly towards the window. As the front door slammed she turned to him.
‘Mr Webber, I love my sister and would never do anything to hurt her. I trust you feel the same?’
The door opened and Frances whirled in, an unaccustomed blush softening her pointed face. Susanna had never seen her look so pretty.
‘Do forgive me, Richard.’ She sounded breathless, yet Frances never ran. She took great pride in her ability to plan her days so that without a minute being wasted her progress from one task to another was smooth and unhurried.
‘I was at a committee meeting concerning the infant school.’ As the tension registered her gaze flickered uncertainly to Susanna and her smile faded.
In that instant Susanna saw through the public image of her conscientious and hard-working older sister to the vulnerability beneath. A wave of protectiveness washed over her.
‘My dear, you are an example to us all,’ Richard’s patronising smirk made Susanna’s hand itch with thoroughly un-Christian desire to slap his fat red face.
Turning her back on him she smiled reassuringly at Frances and picked up the ledger.
‘Mr Webber arrived only moments ago. I am surprised you did not meet on the doorstep. Look at the flowers he’s brought you, aren’t they beautiful?’
Frances’s bewilderment revealed her low self-esteem as she gazed first at the flowers then at the man who carried them. No man had ever brought her flowers before. Her surprise was edged aside by a dawning smile of wholly feminine delight and pride. But with a visible effort she straightened her face.
Susanna wanted to cry out to her not to feel guilt for her moment’s pleasure. The flowers were beautiful. And whatever her own opinion of the man carrying them if seeing him made Frances happy who was she to interfere? Gathering up the linen and her ledger she went to the door.
‘Please excuse me, I really must finish this today. I’ll ask Agnes to bring some tea, shall I?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Frances said over her shoulder before turning back to her visitor. ‘Oh Richard, how kind of you. Of all spring flowers I like these the best.’
Susanna closed the door, not wanting to hear his reply.
Richard continued to visit. Once Frances had jolted her by asking why she didn’t like him.
‘What are you talking about?’ Susanna had feigned surprise. ‘Whatever makes you think that?’
‘Well, whenever Richard calls you always seem to be rushing off somewhere.’
‘Am I? I hadn’t noticed.’ It couldn’t be sinful to lie when the motive was to avoid hurting someone you loved. ‘Anyway,’ she smiled, ‘Richard comes to see you, not me. You must have lots to talk about. If I stayed I’d only be in the way.’
‘So you have nothing against him then?’ Frances persisted, clearly wanting confirmation.
Apart from the fact that he’s a petty, pompous, self-righteous prig with an unpleasant tendency to hector and a hugely inflated opinion of himself? ‘I don’t think he’s good enough for you.’
Frances’s expression mirrored her astonishment. But within moments she was her normal matter-of-fact self. ‘Don’t be silly,’ she said briskly. ‘Richard has a secure position with excellent prospects. It is my good fortune to be marrying such a man.’ Her small tight smile brought a lump to Susanna’s throat.
‘Oh, Fran,’ she whispered.
Their eyes met. For one brief instant Frances’s gaze was naked and self-knowing. ‘I do not wish to be an object of pity all my life.’
Susanna grasped her sister’s hand tightly. ‘Does he make you happy?’ If he did she could forgive him much. But if he ever hurt this awkward brave sister of hers …
&n
bsp; Frances lowered her head blushing as she nodded. ‘I never imagined any man –’Whatever she had been about to confide remained unsaid, held back by her innate reticence. Instead she looked up. ‘Father admires his ambition. Did you know Richard has been invited to sit on the Infants’ school committee? He’s very well thought of among the Friends.’
Susanna had made the appropriate responses, gritting her teeth as her sister continued to list Richard Webber’s virtues.
‘Susanna,’ her father’s voice broke into her thoughts. ‘You must not blame Richard. The matter had already been brought to my attention. I was simply waiting for an appropriate moment to discuss it with you.’
Glancing at her sister’s fiancé, Susanna saw his malicious pleasure at her discomfort replaced by the sudden fear that he might have gone too far.
‘I am not angry, Father,’ she lied. ‘Just disappointed and a little surprised. Didn’t our Lord use the parable of the Good Samaritan to tell us that we should tend the sick and wounded?’
Her father sighed. ‘Why can you not be more like your brother and sister? Frances is an exemplary daughter. She has never given us a moment’s worry. And though William is only seventeen he is proving a great asset to the business. His willingness and sunny disposition are more than adequate compensation for his lack of scholarship.’
As William’s brows climbed Susanna’s urge to laugh was almost irresistible. She bit the inside of her lip so hard she tasted blood.
‘But you,’ her father shook his head, ‘you are blessed – or perhaps cursed – with an intelligence too great for your own good. It causes restlessness of spirit and a lack of foresight regarding the results of your impetuous behaviour. I welcome and applaud your desire to be of service. However it is simply not acceptable that a girl of your age should be making regular and unchaperoned visits to the Seamen’s Home. I am surprised Doctor Arundell has not mentioned this to you.’
‘Doctor Arundell has far more important matters on his mind.’
To her surprise, her father nodded. ‘I will accept that bereavement may temporarily have clouded his judgement.’
Susanna swallowed. ‘I meant he was more concerned for his patients. Father, Doctor Arundell not only welcomes my help he depends upon it. He has told me so.’ She longed for a drink but didn’t dare pick up her water glass. Keeping her trembling hands under the table out of sight she twined them tightly together. ‘Were it not for Doctor Arundell the sick and injured sailors – not to mention the poor in the town –’
‘He is, I am sure, most dedicated. But Falmouth has other doctors who are equally caring for the plight of the poor –’
‘Forgive me, Father, but that is not so. Certainly the town has other doctors. And they may well shake their heads and tut when they speak of the poor. But most of them prefer to devote their attention to wealthy patients. They have no time left for those suffering the ills which accompany extreme poverty.’
Samuel opened his mouth to speak but Susanna raced on. ‘Father, you are always telling us that philanthropy is a saving grace and how important it is that we show kindness and charity to those less fortunate than ourselves. Isn’t that what I am doing? I know many girls enjoy running the Bible classes and Sunday Schools or helping in the soup kitchen. But I know very few who would be willing, even if they were able, to do what I do.’
‘Such vanity, Susanna,’ Samuel reproved as she stopped for breath. ‘I am prepared to concede that your actions, while misguided, spring from a genuine desire to help.’ Relief left Susanna weak. ‘However, this family enjoys a certain standing both in the business community and among the Friends. I will not have our good name jeopardised.’
‘But –’
‘What your father is trying to say,’ Maria interjected, ‘is that Quaker women of our class must exercise care in our choice of charitable work. What we do reflects on our menfolk.’
‘But the Friends in Falmouth contribute regularly to the Seamen’s Home and Infirmary.’
‘Susanna, neither your father nor I doubt the value of the Infirmary or Dr Arundell’s work. But he is not a Friend.’
‘He cannot be thought less of for that,’ Susanna responded at once.
Her parents exchanged a fleeting glance. ‘Of course not,’ Maria said, ‘but if he were a Friend he would have greater understanding for your position.’
‘He does unders –’ she began.
‘You see, Susanna,’ Samuel continued inexorably, ‘in committing yourself exclusively to one charity you are neglecting others equally worthy. While Dr Arundell’s care for his patients is beyond question, he has taken advantage of your compassion.’
‘He hasn’t.’ Susanna shook her head vigorously. ‘It is you who don’t understand.’
‘Susanna,’ Maria tapped the table, ‘please be silent. It is time you listened. You have a kind heart. But while your desire to help the suffering is commendable your conceit is not. Generations of Quaker women have spent long arduous hours doing the traditional charity work of which you are so dismissive.’
‘What else is there for them to do, Mama?’ The words erupted out of her in a torrent of frustration. ‘They have servants to look after their homes; nurses and tutors for their children. Painting and music which women of our class outside the Society enjoy are forbidden to us. Of course Quaker women devote themselves to charitable work. They would go mad with boredom if they did not.’
‘That will do!’ Samuel thundered. ‘Your wilfulness is unbecoming to a young woman. A period of work in the soup kitchen might teach you greater humility.’
Throwing herself back in her chair Susanna bent her head seething with anger and resentment. Not at her father, for he was an honourable man who expected even more of himself than he did of his family. Her rage centred on Richard, who had deliberately provoked the scene.
‘And now let us spare our guest further embarrassment and talk of other things.’ Samuel turned to his elder daughter. ‘Frances, have you told Richard about the success of your sewing class?’
The tension was broken and conversation resumed as plates were gathered up and dessert was served.
Susanna was mortified and furious to feel a tear spill over and slide down her cheek leaving a cool trail on her hot skin.
Her father leaned towards her. ‘You may leave the table if you wish.’
Excusing herself Susanna walked from the room without a backward glance. But all the way to the door she was aware of Richard’s malicious gaze like a dagger-blade between her shoulders.
Chapter Five
Pausing only to put on outdoor shoes and her thick cloak Susanna let herself out of the house and ran swiftly down the road to Grove House Farm where the family’s horses were stabled.
What was she to do? To openly defy her father by refusing to help in the soup kitchen was out of the question. But nor could she give up her visits to the Infirmary. Especially now Edward had promised to teach her about medicines. She tensed as a shadow fell across the doorway.
‘It’s only me,’ William said. The mare whickered gently and nudged him with her satiny nose. Opening his hand he fed her the expected sugar lumps.
‘What have you done to Richard to make him dislike you so?’
‘It was months ago, a silly misunderstanding. He thought I was laughing at him. I wasn’t. But …’ she shrugged helplessly. ‘Richard might wear plain clothes and a righteous expression but he’s a boring, spiteful, hypocritical snob.’
William grinned. ‘And those are his good points.’
Susanna threw her arms around her brother. ‘Oh, Will, what would I do without you.’
He hugged her with clumsy affection. ‘Miss me, I hope. But you’ll never have to do without me. I shall look after you when you become a cantankerous old lady terrifying the Elders with your strange ideas.’
‘They’re not strange. I’m doing something good and worthwhile. And I’m not going to give it up. But if Father asks you about me what will you say?’
> ‘Me? I’m in an office all day struggling with manifests and bills of lading. How would I know where you are or who you’re with?’
Susanna planted a kiss on the downy cheek he hadn’t yet begun to shave. ‘You’re my best friend, Will.’
‘So can I beg a favour? It’s the Company ledgers. Father’s clerks have explained but I just can’t seem to –’ he lifted one hand in a gesture of helplessness. ‘Look, you’ve spent time down there. You’re much better at that sort of thing than I am.’ He gave a wry grin. ‘You’re better than me at most things.’
‘Will, that’s rubbish.’
‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I like you this way. You’re never boring, not like most of the girls we know.’
Susanna squeezed his arm. ‘Of course I’ll help you. We can spend an hour on it tonight if you like.’
‘Really?’ He beamed with relief. ‘What about that ride?’
‘Mother asked me to visit the Braithwaites. They weren’t at Meeting this morning. Since Uncle George died Mother feels she ought to keep an eye on them.’
William’s eyebrows disappeared in the hair that flopped over his forehead. ‘They’re grown women. I mean, they’re almost middle-aged.’
‘You know what Mother’s like with family. She’s concerned that Meredith’s cold might have gone to her chest.’
‘There’s certainly enough of it.’
‘Will, that’s not polite.’
‘Do you know what cousin Meredith reminds me of? A bolster full of blancmange.’
‘Will!’ Susanna spluttered with laughter.
‘I don’t mind calling on them. But if we went for a trot round the castle first we would arrive back at Lansdowne Road in time for afternoon tea.’
‘Honestly, William, you organise your entire life around food.’
‘I’m still growing,’ he defended himself. ‘I need constant nourishment. There’s a lot of me to fill. And Lucy makes wonderful fruit cake.’
Horses saddled, they mounted up and rode down Swanpool Street. Glancing through tall wrought-iron gates marking the back entrance to Arwenack Estate Susanna glimpsed the long covered ropewalk and caught the faint odours of dry jute and tar. In the morning dozens of men would be at work twisting together fibres of manila to make ropes as thick as a man’s arm.
