by Jane Jackson
‘No, not at all,’ Kerenza demurred. ‘What little I have done, I have done with pleasure. I have far more reason than you for gratitude. Without you here to deflect Mrs Woodrow’s attention my journey would have been miserable.’ With Judith’s head thoroughly wet, Kerenza re-corked the bottle and drew the comb through to spread the wash from root to tip.
‘You are very good at this. How did you become so skilled?’
‘Well, I have always done my own. Then when my grandmother was ill, I started doing hers as well. She found it soothing.’
‘I hope she is fully recovered?’
‘Oh yes, this was some time ago. She enjoys excellent health now. Which is just as well, for every day she receives invitations to balls and parties and suppers.’ Remembering Judith’s rank and position Kerenza felt shy. ‘I expect you do a great deal of entertaining.’ She saw Judith’s shoulders lift as she sighed.
‘It is a necessary part of my husband’s job. In Gibraltar, our most frequent guests are senior naval officers from the Mediterranean Squadron. In fact, you may be acquainted with one of our recent guests, Captain Ashworth? I remember him saying his home was in Falmouth.’
Setting down the comb, Kerenza picked up a towel and began gently to rub Judith’s scalp. ‘I do not know Captain Ashworth. I have met his son, though I could wish I had not.’
Judith swung round her eyes alight. ‘My dear, do tell. What did you dislike in him?’
‘Apart from his arrogance and vanity?’ Anger bubbled up as Kerenza remembered that evening. ‘He spoke at great length about his adventures and his importance, and I think he took it amiss when I was not sufficiently impressed. But what really made me take him in dislike were his slighting remarks about – about someone known to both of us. If his father is similar I shall not be sorry if I never meet him.’ Gathering Judith’s long tresses in the towel, she rubbed them hard.
‘Admiral Hotham appears to think well of Captain Ainsworth as a commander,’ Judith said. ‘He did hint that the captain is driven, and demanding of his officers and crew. Personally, I found Captain Ashworth proud to the point of arrogance and very much on his dignity. He spoke several times of his son and clearly expects great things of him. One can only hope for the young man’s sake he is equal to the task.’
Dropping the towel, Kerenza picked up Judith’s silver-backed brush and swept it through the long tresses, lifting them over her arm to allow air through. ‘Well, I cannot think well of him. In fact, I suspect –’ She caught herself. ‘Still, as he holds himself in the highest esteem I doubt he cares in the least for anyone else’s good opinion.’
‘I fear you may be mistaken in that.’ Judith’s voice held a note of warning. ‘I have met many such men, young and old. And too often the opposite is true. But, tell me, of what do you suspect him? Though it should not be necessary – for you must know that in our conversations I have been most dreadfully indiscreet – I give you my word that anything you tell me will be treated as a confidence.’
Kerenza had never imagined confiding her fears or her shame to anyone. But Judith’s gentle encouragement and the intimacy of the moment made the need too powerful to resist and suddenly all her suspicions, confusion, and terrible hurt came tumbling out.
Chapter Ten
When it had all spilled out, Kerenza sank down onto the bench facing Judith; trembling from emotions that had swept her up like surf boiling over a reef, then thrown her back onto the rocky shore of the present.
‘So you believe Lieutenant Ashworth is responsible for the rift between you and Mr Penrose?’ Judith pressed.
Kerenza turned the silver brush between her fingers. ‘I believe he may have said something about me. I can think of no other explanation for – what happened. But as for responsibility …’ She raised a stricken face. ‘That lies with Mr Penrose.’
‘My dear.’ Leaning forward, Judith laid a hand over Kerenza’s. ‘It is as well that the Woodrows and your father have had other matters on their minds. Because it is only too clear to me that this quarrel is causing both you and Mr Penrose a great deal of unhappiness. You say Mr Penrose has attempted to apologise. Could you not find it in your heart to forgive him? By your own account, when this misunderstanding occurred you and he had been closely acquainted for only a short time.’
Setting the brush on the table, Kerenza reached for the second bottle. She poured a little into her cupped palm, inhaling the familiar fragrance of lavender essence that perfumed the sweet olive oil.
‘I could forgive him for listening to what his cousin told him. I could even forgive him for giving credence to whatever he was told. After all, why should he doubt the word of a naval officer who is also a member of his own family? As you say, we had not been – had not known each other very long. What I cannot forgive …’ Her voice wavered and she had to swallow before she could continue. ‘What hurts so much is that he did not ask me.’
They were six at table for dinner. As expected, Betsy enquired the reason for Kerenza’s absence from the morning service.
‘You must hold me responsible, Mrs Woodrow,’ Judith intervened. ‘I did not think it wise to attempt the companionway stairs twice in one day. As I wish to spend an hour or so on deck this afternoon, I prevailed upon Miss Vyvyan to remain with me this morning to keep me company and she was kind enough to oblige.’
Betsy’s sharp eyes flicked to Judith’s glossy hair, now pinned up in a smooth coil, but she made no comment.
Kerenza shifted her gaze to her father, marvelling at his appearance. He was sober, his jaw freshly shaved, his clothes brushed, and his neckcloth neatly tied about a clean collar. She wondered how Broad had achieved the miracle. Maggot joined them and, within minutes, to her husband’s obvious embarrassment, Betsy was enquiring pointedly into his background.
‘You want to know about my family?’ Bitter chocolate eyes gleamed above high cheekbones. ‘My father’s father was pirate. Have much hair on his chest.’
As Betsy spluttered, Judith smiled round the table. ‘It’s an old Moorish saying, signifying a man of action, a very brave man.’
Maggot nodded, then his brows gathered. For an awful moment, Kerenza feared he was going to claim the literal as well as allegorical truth of his statement. ‘He was Tamazirght, from Rif mountains.’
‘Tamazirght is what the people we call Berber call themselves,’ Judith said as everyone looked to her for explanation.
‘He take his ship from Sale to England, to Cornwall. He see girl in village, very beautiful, very sad. So he put her on ship and bring her to his house.’
Betsy’s eyes bulged with shock and her florid face reflected horror. ‘He kidnapped her? That’s terrible! It’s wicked! It’s –’
‘No, no, is very good.’ Maggot was earnest. ‘She happy. They have many children.’
‘Your grandmother was a Cornishwoman?’ Kerenza said, fascinated, while Betsy muttered under her breath.
Maggot nodded. ‘My father is second son. He no like the sea.’ Shrugging his incomprehension of such an attitude, Maggot continued. ‘He become tagir, merchant, in Tangier. He trade with Spain, Gibraltar, Italy. Build good business. Make lot of money. He marry girl from Gibraltar.’ He shot a sly grin at Betsy. ‘Her father was English sailor.’ He sighed. ‘My mother very beautiful. But she die of fever.’
‘How old were you?’ Kerenza asked.
He held up both hands, palms out, fingers spread. ‘My father marry again. She is Tanjawi. Her husband die. She no have children. Is very kind to me. They are very happy. But, three years ago, my father is on ship to Livorno. Is attacked by French warship and he is killed.’
‘What about your stepmother?’ Kerenza asked.
‘She no with him on the ship. Was at home running business. Now she run small hotel.’
‘That reminds me.’ Judith turned to Kerenza’s father. ‘Mr Vyvyan, please don’t think me impertinent, but before you left Tangier did you make arrangements for somewhere to stay on your return?’
William shook his head. ‘To be honest, ma’am, my thoughts were only of my wife and daughter.’
Kerenza tried to ignore the pang inflicted by this reminder of her own unimportance, remaining carefully expressionless as he continued.
‘I was concerned with getting to England to raise the money, then finding a ship to return me as quickly as possible to Tangier. Perhaps the British consul –’
Judith and Maggot both shook their heads. ‘He may not even be in Tangier when you arrive,’ Judith explained. ‘The sultan has a habit of summoning various consuls then keeping him waiting for days or even weeks before granting an audience. It’s not unheard of for them to be sent back without ever seeing the sultan. The British consul is not alone in receiving such treatment. Other consuls are also forced to make similar fruitless journeys.’
‘You stay at hotel of my father’s wife,’ Maggot announced with the air of a magician completing a trick.
Kerenza caught her father’s eye, saw his hesitation, glimpsed Betsy Woodrow’s bosom swelling as she drew breath to add her own opinion to a matter that in no way concerned her, and spoke quickly.
‘That sounds like an excellent idea, Papa. You will surely have enough to do when we arrive without the additional worry of finding somewhere for us to stay.’
After another hesitation, William Vyvyan inclined his head toward the Tanjawi. ‘Much obliged to you,’ he said gruffly.
After dinner, they all went up on deck, and passed the afternoon in the sunshine. The crew sprawled in groups at the forward end of the ship. Some washed clothes in a wooden bucket while others worked at fancy knots or small woodcarvings. One or two whittled clothespins that were much sought after.
Sitting with Judith when Nick came on deck, Kerenza kept her eyes averted. She mulled over what Judith said about forgiveness, but could not forget that he had preferred to cut her. Even when he had found her on deck and questioned her, he had chosen to take his cousin’s side. She had not meant enough to him then. Why should it be different now? What of the future? Would his instinct always be to believe anyone else before her? How could she trust someone who had so little faith in her?
She gazed out over the port rail and listened as the minister talked of reaching Gibraltar within a day or two. She would miss Judith.
As the sun dipped, the afternoon grew cool and the passengers returned to the saloon for tea.
During the night, woken by the squeal of blocks and rattle of rings as the big gaff sails were reefed in, Kerenza was tipped from one side of her cot to the other as the ship changed direction. The tilt and plunge increased and her heart sank as she realised that the wind must have shifted and the sea was becoming rougher.
Venturing on deck the next morning, the difference was instantly visible, and the contrast shocking. The previous day had been one of blue skies, sunshine, and sparkling sapphire water. Now the sea was a froth of white caps, and the sky the colour of curdled milk. Through the haze she could just make out a brown smudge on the horizon which she knew must be the coast of Spain.
The rest of the day brought them no closer. A strong east wind funnelling through the straits made Kestrel’s approach impossible. Hour after hour passed, and the packet could only beat to and fro, making no progress.
Lookouts were doubled and tension made the crew surly for, held back by wind and sea, the packet was increasingly vulnerable to attack by French warships or privateers. The weather dominated conversation at every meal. When might the wind change or drop sufficiently to allow them to enter the straits?
‘It’s so frustrating,’ Judith cried, in a rare display of annoyance as they left the cabin to go to the saloon for tea. ‘I’m only a few hours from home. If only this horrible wind would ease.’ As the ship rose and fell, she steadied herself against the bulkhead with one hand, pressing the other to her lower back and bending her head as she sucked in a sharp breath.
Kerenza’s sympathy was tinged with concern. ‘I wish there was something I could do.’
Straightening, Judith’s smile reflected her tiredness. ‘And I must stop grumbling. You have been so kind and so patient. This delay is surely just as frustrating for you.’ She slipped her arm through Kerenza’s, pressing it gently.
As they entered the saloon, Kerenza was forced to acknowledge that her feelings about reaching Tangier were not as clear or straightforward as Judith imagined. Of course she hoped her mother and sister were well and unharmed. But as for seeing them again, and having to care for them on the voyage home, she wasn’t looking forward to that at all, which made her feel guilty and ashamed.
With Betsy Woodrow engrossed in her food and the minister deep in conversation with her father, Kerenza was free to follow her own thoughts. But these were in such a tangle she found little comfort in silence. Neither Nick nor Maggot joined them. Even Judith, normally so skilled at raising topics to which all might contribute, was unusually quiet.
They went early to bed, everyone admitting weariness from the uncomfortable contortions of the ship. As she turned out the lamp and climbed up into her cot, Kerenza hoped for Judith’s sake that the wind might drop during the hours of darkness and allow them in the morning to begin their approach to Gibraltar harbour.
She fell quickly asleep, physically and emotionally worn out. Waking with a start, she wondered what the time was. It must still be night, for there was no glimmer of light visible in the gap above the door. Nor, she realised with a sigh, had the weather changed. So what had wakened her?
Hearing the faint clang of the watch-bell and footsteps on the deck, she closed her heavy eyelids. They flew open again an instant later, her heart racing at the sound of a soft groan. She knew now it was this that had roused her from the depths of sleep. Propped on one elbow, she leant over the edge of her cot.
‘Judith? Is something wrong?’
‘I don’t – I’m not sure. I do feel cold.’
The note of uncertainty sent a spear of unease through Kerenza’s stomach. ‘Are you in pain?’
‘Not exactly.’ But the silence had lasted a fraction too long. ‘It’s just – my back aches so badly.’
Trying to ignore the painful thumping against her ribs and dreading the answer, Kerenza forced herself to ask. ‘Do you think the baby is coming?’
‘I don’t know. I’m afraid it is. But it’s too soon.’
The fear in Judith’s whisper smothered Kerenza’s panic as she swung her legs over the side of her cot and dropped to the cabin floor.
‘Lie still while I light the lamp.’ Her hands were shaking so badly it took several attempts before the wick burned steadily and had ceased to smoke. Shivering in her nightdress, as much from apprehension as from the night’s chill, Kerenza pulled the blanket from her cot and crouched to place it over Judith, who lay on her side.
‘I’ll go and find the steward. We need hot bottles for your feet and your back.’
Judith’s eyes were huge, and the lamplight revealed pain and anxiety. She gripped Kerenza’s fingers where they rested on the edge of the cot. ‘Please don’t be long.’
‘I won’t, I promise. I don’t think I’d better go like this, though.’ She indicated the thin white cotton. ‘Can you imagine what would happen if Mrs Woodrow were to see me? She’d wake the entire ship with a fit of hysterics.’
‘I’d prefer she didn’t know,’ Judith said. ‘About me.’
‘No doubt she is fast asleep and will remain so,’ Kerenza soothed, hoping fervently that this was indeed the case. Quickly shedding the white cotton, she pulled on her shift and over it her green muslin gown. Stuffing her bare feet into cold shoes, her hair falling in a long loose braid over one shoulder, she picked up the woollen shawl she had been wearing as a bed jacket, crossed the ends over her bosom, and tied them at the back. Leaving her hands and arms free, it was warm but far less bulky than her cloak.
‘I’ll be as quick as I can,’ she promised and opened the door quietly, her heart giving an unpleasant lurch when Judith tucked her
head to her chest as a groan was wrenched from her.
Creeping past the Woodrows’ cabin, Kerenza heard two sets of snores. Their rhythm did not alter as she closed the saloon door carefully behind her. At the far end, the door leading to the galley passage was fastened back. Seeing the faint glow of a lamp, she felt a rush of relief. Someone was still awake. Hearing low-pitched voices talking quietly, she knocked softly on the bulkhead to warn of her arrival. Looking in, she saw Broad and Toy sitting on stools either side of the galley stove, a half-empty bottle of rum on the stained floor between them.
‘I’m so sorry to intrude,’ she said quickly as they looked up, startled. ‘But Lady Russell is – unwell.’
Exchanging a glance, the two men rose to their feet, Toy catching up the rum bottle. ‘Babby on the way, is it?’ Broad asked.
Kerenza shrugged helplessly, twisting her fingers. ‘I’m not sure. She fears so. She has severe back pains. She’s been having them for nearly two days now. And she’s complaining of cold.’
Toy looked at Broad. ‘What do ’e think? You’ve seen babbies born aboard before.’
Kerenza peered at the steward, her emotions swinging between shock and hope. ‘Have you, Mr Broad?’
‘Two, over the years. But we had a doctor aboard and both ladies had a maid with ’em. I never had no personal experience, like.’
Kerenza tried to hide her disappointment. ‘Do you know if there are any hot bottles aboard?’
‘I think there’s an old tin one in my cupboard,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and see.’
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Toy volunteered. ‘Like a cup of tea, would she?’
‘Oh, how kind. That would be marvellous.’
Toy sighed. ‘As one soul depart another do get born.’ His voice faltered and, after sniffing hard, he squared his shoulders. ‘Put a cup on for you as well, shall I?’
