by Jane Jackson
The hotel door opened. The man jerked back, not wanting to be seen yet unwilling to move away. Framed in the light a woman with hair hennaed bright orange shivered violently and pulled a thin cloak of tattered red velvet around her. She shouted something over her shoulder that was met with catcalls and coarse male laughter. In the gaslight her face was the colour of stale cod except for the patch of rouge staining each cheek.
Susanna watched the man glance furtively around then murmur something to the woman who looked him up and down. Resting one hand on her hip she asked a question. The man nodded quickly. With a shrug and a sigh the woman jerked her head and turned down into Quay Street. With a last hasty glance behind him the man followed.
Despite the hat, the scarf, and the thick dark coat, as soon as he moved Susanna was sure. It was him. Then, as the significance of what she had just witnessed dawned on her, shock dried her mouth. She turned up the hill towards home.
Unfastening her cloak with chilled fingers she hung it up, automatically pushing escaped curls into the confining bonnet. As she opened the drawing room door delicious warmth enfolded her.
Sitting alone by the fire Frances looked up with a start. ‘I wanted to visit sooner,’ she said quickly. ‘But it’s difficult –’
‘It’s all right, Fran,’ Susanna broke in, picturing Mrs Webber. ‘I understand.’ Crouching by the hearth she held her hands out to the dancing flames. ‘You look a bit down. Is Mrs Webber being unkind?’
‘No, not at all. Well, she has her little ways. But we get along quite pleasantly most of the time.’
‘She’s extremely lucky to have you for a daughter-in-law.’ Susanna sank into the fireside chair opposite her sister’s.
‘Mother seems much better.’ Frances’s bright smile looked totally out of place on her pinched face. ‘She’s just gone to freshen up and have a little rest before tea. I must be on my way too, now you’re home. Mrs Webber doesn’t like eating alone and Richard won’t be back until late. He’s at a staff meeting.’
‘No –’ Susanna stopped herself just in time. Richard’s school was at the opposite end of town, almost a half-hour’s walk from where she had just seen him in Quay Hill. ‘No, stay a while longer,’ she amended hastily. ‘It seems an age since we’ve talked.’
‘Now I’m married I have so many …’ Suddenly Frances stood up. ‘I really ought to –’
‘A few more minutes won’t hurt. What’s wrong? I can see there’s something. Can I help?’
A strangled laugh ripped from Frances’ throat. ‘You? How could you possibly – What would you know about – I can’t.’
‘Fran, if I’ve noticed, don’t you think others will? You know how quickly gossip spreads.’
‘Oh no. What have you heard?’
‘Nothing.’ Susanna reassured her. ‘But –’
‘I can’t. It’s so … disloyal.’
Leaning across Susanna touched the white-knuckled hands. ‘Nothing you tell me will go beyond these four walls. I give you my solemn promise.’
Sitting on the edge of the cushioned seat Frances raised a face streaked with tears. ‘It’s Richard.’
Susanna concentrated fiercely on projecting only sympathetic concern. ‘What about him?’ Did Fran know about his visits to Quay Hill?
‘It’s so … shameful,’ Frances whispered, huddling forward. ‘The first night of our honeymoon … we had prepared for bed, separately of course, and said our prayers … and then he told me …’ her voice faded to a whisper. ‘He said he harboured lewd carnal thoughts about me and deserved my utter disdain.’
Susanna stared at her sister. ‘But you told me he has always treated you with the utmost respect …’ Frances nodded vigorously. ‘Then to say such a thing – especially on your wedding night … does seem a bit … thoughtless.’ Coming from someone so meticulous regarding correct behaviour, and who never lost an opportunity to criticise others, it was not only tactless but brutally insensitive.
‘I was startled,’ Frances confessed. ‘I had not expected such … bluntness.’ Though she was choosing her words with great care her fretting hands and the down-turned corners of her mouth betrayed revulsion. ‘But the books said that a wife may not always understand her husband’s behaviour. So I told him I was prepared to overlook it. After all, a man’s nature is different from a woman’s in such matters.’
A shaft of memory pierced Susanna. When Edward had examined her in the dispensary his touch, brief and light, had been confined to her face and neck. Yet every inch of her skin had become instantly and exquisitely sensitive. For weeks just thinking about him had been sufficient to trigger strange palpitations. Not now, of course. She felt nothing now, nothing at all. But she had experienced those feelings. Was she different from other women? Depraved in some way?
‘What did he say?’ Susanna swept the memories aside. ‘He must have been grateful for your under-standing.’
‘No.’ Frances gave her head a small tight shake. ‘He insisted he was unworthy of me. He said he must be punished for his wickedness. Then he took a black riding crop from his suitcase and …’ nervously she moistened her lips, ‘and begged me to beat him.’
Stunned, Susanna stared at her sister’s bonneted head. Beat him? ‘What did you do?’
Frances’ head flew up, her face a mask of horror. ‘I didn’t –’
‘No, of course not. I meant what did you say?’
Taking a handkerchief from her sleeve Frances wiped her eyes and nose. ‘I told him I forgave him everything. Was he not my husband?’ She looked down yet seemed unaware of the hole she was tearing in the fine fabric with her thumbnail. ‘He said he did not want forgiveness. He insisted he must be punished.’ Her voice caught. ‘I know I shouldn’t have, but I started to cry.’ Her face crumpled. ‘I was frightened.’
Susanna knelt in front of her sister, covering the tense trembling hands with her own. ‘Of course you were.’ She struggled to keep her tone gentle as disgust and incredulity fuelled her burning anger. ‘Anyone would be.’ Not her. She would probably have laughed and no doubt made matters worse. But she would never have married him in the first place.
‘When he saw I was unable to do what he asked,’ Frances hiccupped, ‘he put on his dressing gown and went down the hall to the bathroom. I didn’t know what to do. I waited for a while, but I was so tired what with the journey and everything, I got into bed. I must have fallen asleep because I didn’t hear him come back.’
‘What happened in the morning? Did he apologise? Explain?’
Frances shook her head again. ‘When I woke he kissed me on the forehead and got out of bed saying he would dress in the bathroom and take a short walk, then we would breakfast together. He didn’t mention … so naturally I could not. That night he did not … he made no … approach. After our meal the following evening he drank brandy.’ Despite her misery Frances’ voice still held shock at this blatant breaking of the Quaker rules of abstinence. ‘When we retired he tried to –’ she shuddered. ‘Then he began scolding himself for failing me, for not being a proper husband. He pleaded with me to punish him. He said that if I loved him I would help him atone for his sins.’ Her tear-wet cheeks reddened. ‘The books say a wife should display only shyness and modesty, and indeed that is my natural temperament. But,’ Frances took a deep breath, ‘I cast them aside and put my arms around him. I told him that I forgave him with a glad heart, and he had no need of punishment.’
‘And?’ Susanna prompted, fascinated by this glimpse into the secrets of a marriage.
‘He pushed me away.’ Frances’ chin quivered. ‘I don’t understand why he was so angry.’ She wiped her eyes again. ‘Anyway, the next day we received your message calling us home. Since then … nothing. I don’t know what to do.’
‘Why don’t you go and talk Dr Vigurs? Perhaps he could explain –’
Frances was aghast. ‘I couldn’t possibly tell anyone else.’
‘Would Richard consider …?’ As Frances gasped Susanna shook
her head. ‘No, perhaps not.’ If he was too self-centred and inconsiderate to care what effect his peculiar demands might be having on his naive young wife, he would certainly refuse to discuss them with a doctor. ‘Well, if the marriage has not been consummated you can get an annulment.’
Frances’s eyes grew round with horror. ‘I couldn’t possibly. There would be a scandal. Think of what that would do to Mother and Father. They’ve been through so much. And what would Mrs Webber say? She’d blame me. And Richard would be a laughing stock. No.’ She sat very straight. ‘Anyway, that’s not what I want.’ Puffy and streaked from weeping her cheeks grew pink. ‘I made my vows and I will keep them. Besides, I want – if God wills it, of course – to have children.’
‘But surely … I mean, how?’
‘It will be all right,’ Frances said quickly. ‘I’m sure – somehow we’ll –’ she jumped up, her face taut with anxiety. ‘I should never have –’ As Susanna rose Frances seized her arm. ‘You won’t say anything, will you? You mustn’t.’
‘Didn’t I promise?’ But if she had seen Richard in Quay Hill wasn’t it possible someone else had? What if they talked?
Chapter Nineteen
It was late when Susanna returned to the office the following afternoon.
‘… and Charles both have ’flu,’ Lucy was saying to a grave-faced Samuel. ‘They wanted to know if you possibly spare one of your staff, just for a few days.’
Samuel shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. I had to send my chief clerk home this morning. He was quite clearly unwell and should not have come in at all.’
‘Hello, Lucy.’
‘Susanna! How nice to see you. What are you doing here?’
‘I’ve just finished delivering dividend payments to the shareholders.’ She turned to her father. ‘Could I not go? Unless you have something else for me to do here?’
Automatically he started to shake his head. But Lucy clapped her hands together. ‘What a wonderful idea! Uncle Joshua does not relish the thought of bringing in an outsider, especially for such a short time. Uncle Samuel, if you could spare Susanna for just a few days I’m sure peace of mind would speed his recovery. No doubt discerning Friends will recognise it as an act of great charity.’
Susanna marvelled. Knowing his objections would centre on what people might think, Lucy had chosen exactly the right words. She forced herself to wait quietly. She desperately wanted the job. It would increase her experience and therefore her usefulness. If she proved equal to it then her father must surely be bound to consider her for William’s position?
‘Well, as these are special circumstances,’ her father began, ‘and provided Joshua understands that the arrangement is entirely at his own risk –’
Susanna stiffened. Screened from Samuel’s view by the wooden counter Lucy’s foot slid sideways with gentle pressure. Recognising the warning Susanna bowed her head. Cyril Hosking had not found a single error when he checked her calculations. What more did she have to do to prove that she was worthy of trust?
‘Thank you so much, Uncle Samuel.’ Lucy’s smile reflected genuine gratitude. How did she do it? How did she keep her patience and her temper and see only the best in people?
‘Hmmm.’ Samuel eyed his niece with the air of someone who suspects he has been manoeuvred yet cannot perceive how. He turned to Susanna. ‘You may as well go along with your cousin.’
‘Thank you, Father.’
‘Good afternoon, Uncle Samuel. And please give Aunt Maria my fondest regards.’
Dismissing them both with a nod, he turned away.
‘Let’s go and have a cup of hot chocolate,’ Lucy said as they emerged onto the street. ‘A warm nourishing drink will soothe your temper and your nerves.’
‘Is it that noticeable?’
‘Only to me. And only because I understand how frustrated you must feel. Be patient with him, Susanna. He recognises your intelligence but he’s afraid of change. A clever woman learns to bide her time.’ Lucy smiled. ‘Meredith and I arranged to meet in Mrs Powell’s tea-shop at Church Corner. She’ll be delighted to see you.’
‘How are all your arrangements progressing?’
‘Splendidly. This afternoon I signed the contract for letting the house.’
As Lucy listed all that had been accomplished and the few things remaining to be done, Susanna was startled by a pang of envy.
A bell tinkled above the door as they walked into the teashop. The beamed ceiling was supported by thick balks of dark and ancient timber. A coal fire burned cheerfully in the black-leaded grate adding an orange-pink glow to the whitewashed walls. The air was fragrant with the scents of spice and saffron, roasting coffee and toasted teacakes. Round tables were spread with pink cloths, and pink glass bowls shaded the gas mantles.
They had just settled themselves at a table by the bow-fronted window when Meredith, laden with bags and packages, whirled in from the gathering dusk like a small hurricane.
‘Susanna,’ she beamed in delight. ‘How nice. Lucy, you would not believe what a time I’ve had. I made a list but do you think I could find it? Fortunately I possess an excellent memory. Hasn’t it been cold today? What are we all going to have? I am faint for want of nourishment.’
Concerned, Susanna glanced at Lucy who smiled and gave her head an infinitesmal shake as the tide of words continued to gush from Meredith’s mouth.
‘That’s the problem with a delicate constitution, one can eat so little. Though in this bitter weather I do make a special effort. Who was it said that a hearty meal protects against the chills and ills of winter? Of course ‘hearty’ is quite beyond me. But I do think I could manage a cup of hot chocolate and a toasted teacake. Susanna, you still look a little peaky. You really must take care of yourself you know. Winter is definitely not my favourite season. I don’t like the cold. Mind you, I find too much heat something of a trial. It leaves one so enervated, don’t you agree? Now, what are you going to have?’
Awed by Meredith’s ability to talk for so long without taking a breath, Susanna was caught unawares. ‘Oh, I – er – the same, please.’
‘And for me,’ Lucy smiled at the hovering waitress.
‘Isn’t this nice?’ Meredith twinkled. ‘I think we may be permitted one or two little treats before we embark on our great adventure. You cannot imagine how much I am looking forward to it. Naturally, there will be difficulties and privations. But by the grace of Our Lord we will win through.’
Perhaps Meredith was simply accepting that problems were inevitable. After all she was about to venture into a world different from anything she had ever known. No doubt her high colour could be attributed to the biting wind and her rush to get here. But her eyes had a feverish brightness. And a nerve danced in her fleshy cheek.
Glancing at Lucy and seeing no trace of concern Susanna tried to ignore her disquiet. It was perfectly understandable that Meredith’s natural ebullience should have risen to an even higher level than usual. ‘I do hope you’ll find time to write occasionally.’
‘Oh I don’t think –’
‘We will certainly try,’ Lucy cut in, gently patting her sister’s hand. ‘I’m glad to have seen you today, Susanna. I’d be grateful for your advice.’
‘My advice?’
‘Dr Vigurs has prepared a small medical chest for us. However, as we will be in a strange country without easy access to doctors and hospitals I think we might be wiser to keep that for real emergencies. What we need is a selection of remedies for minor discomforts; ailments more inconvenient than dangerous. Would you prepare a list? Or better still, if I give you some money, will you purchase what we need from the apothecary and herbalist?’ Susanna nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.
‘Lucy! What could Susanna possibly know about such things?’
‘She did some visiting at the Infirmary for a while. Doctor Arundell spoke most highly of her.’
‘Really?’ Meredith peered at Susanna. ‘I’d never have believed – Fancy Uncle Samuel –
a wonderful man, an example to us all, but such a stickler for tradition. And as for permitting – well, it’s so advanced, isn’t it? Not at all what one expects from him. What exactly did you do?’
Knowing better than to speak of her more recent experiences Susanna gave a deprecating shrug. ‘I read to the patients and wrote letters for them.’
‘I hope they were properly appreciative.’
Recalling Mr Roberts, Susanna smiled. ‘I met some very nice people.’
‘There you are,’ Meredith swivelled to face her sister. ‘Didn’t I always say Susanna had a good heart? I’m sure it was very interesting.’ She began to rummage in a bag, appearing not to have noticed that no one had answered her original question.
As Susanna’s fingers traced the outline of the medallion images flickered through her mind: assisting at Colin’s operation, the ravings of the dying Portuguese sailor, grinding camphor in a mortar and pestle in the dispensary, Edward refusing to meet her eyes as he trampled her cherished dreams to dust. ‘I learned far more than I expected.’
Several days later she opened her bedroom curtains and looked out onto a white world. Snow clothed roofs and roads. It blanketed the garden and decorated the bare boughs of trees like thick sugar frosting. On the far side of the grey water the white hump of Trefusis headland slumbered beneath a hazy sky the colour of mussel shell and milk.
She started to smile, to turn, run to the door and shout for William. Then she remembered. Grief stabbed, sharp and deep. Wrapping her arms across her body as if to hold herself together, she closed her eyes and rocked. She wanted to howl, to ease the pain with weeping. But the tears would not come. She wondered sometimes how she could go on. Yet she did. And strangely, part of her life was more satisfying than it had ever been. Her work at Braithwaite’s Yard necessitated her dealing directly with the foreman on one hand, and ships’ masters or owners on the other. Yet she had proved equal to the challenge, winning acceptance and respect – however grudging – from both.
