My friend said, in her whimsical way, “I declare I am ready to brave a view of the sea.” How she makes me laugh! Then—at that very moment—we were overtaken by a tall gentleman striding down in the direction we planned to take.
“Mr. Templeton!” cried Mrs. Gurdon, and he stopped and turned.
I was struck by something in his appearance: he is not handsome, I suppose, yet has a presence that I found very pleasing. His eyes, a deep brown, are warm, yet observing, and his bearing has that dignity that I always admire when it is accompanied by no trace of pretension or false pride.
Laura looked up from the journal and laughed at herself—had she really read so much in the gentleman’s bearing in an instant?
The three of us went down to the shore, with Mrs. Gurdon appreciative, I think, of the gentleman’s support as well as my own, for the street rushes steeply down to the water. We stood at the sea wall, observing the fisher-women as they waded in the shallows, dragging small nets in the hunt for fish.
“My, how they raise their skirts up high!” cried Mrs. Gurdon, and indeed modesty is not their guiding principle! Had I been prone to blushes, I would have done so then, so aware was I of the presence of Mr. Templeton seeing this display of female limbs with us.
I joked that the fishwives are careful of their petticoats, wanting to avoid constant washing. Mr. Templeton chuckled—he understood my humour at once but Mrs. Gurdon tutted. “By the state of their dress, I shouldn’t think they trouble themselves frequently with that task, Miss Laura!” She looked up and caught us laughing.
“I needs must think twice about your every remark, young lady!” she said.
We came back up the street to the inn, with tiny Mrs. Gurdon’s head bobbing between our shoulders. I know not how to describe the feeling of an understanding that seemed to pass between us over her head. I cannot explain my certainty that Mr. Templeton was as aware of me as I was of him.
Again Laura paused, and the clear memory of that short walk returned to her; she was still certain that the sensation had been mutual. The old lady had tired, requiring their support, and they had carefully matched their pace to hers, one or the other frequently bending a head to speak to her. Yet all the time, she had felt his consciousness like a touch.
Mrs. Gurdon invited us to take some refreshment with her as with Mr. Gurdon absent for the day, she would enjoy our company. I found my sister asleep on her sofa, left her a note, and our hostess led us to her rooms, just along the passage.
There we waited an age for an answer to the bell. Finally, Mrs. Gurdon sent her own servant down to the kitchen.
Laura sat up and smiled. This explains the inn servants’ ignorance of Mr. Templeton, she thought. Nothing could be simpler! They had not answered the bell! Why do I not remember these things when I am under Edward’s examination? I used not to be so muddleheaded.
The old lady’s servant fetched the refreshments, and Mrs. Gurdon served us with cake, fruit and wine, which she watered too well for me. Our conversation ranged from the war to our favourite books. Never have I encountered a man with whom I have so many tastes and views in common. My humour, far from bewildering him as so often happens with others, was greeted with open pleasure.
I do not dare write all that I felt. Suffice it to say, I have never, on a first meeting, felt that I made the acquaintance of so valuable a friend.
Ah, she thought, I am usually a cautious creature, for all my ability to quickly understand another’s essential character. She rose and walked about the room. The rosy light appearing at the window drew her to it and she peeked out at the clouds, darkish, edged with silver and pink. Was I deceived about him—I think not! She returned to her reading.
Mrs. Gurdon gradually fell silent until she slept in her chair, and we talked on. I consulted my watch and was amazed that two hours had passed since we returned to the inn.
“My sister will be concocting every variety of misadventure,” I said. Mr. Templeton replied, “I hope this has not been a misadventure.” I laughingly said that only the future can tell us that.
Heavens, she thought. At the time, it was only a jest!
He said, “I hope to see you very soon.” His deep voice was quite thrilling as he said those words. I felt it almost as a vibration in my spine.
He is lodging at Charmouth, and, like me, enjoys long walks so it will be no trouble at all for him to come again to Lyme. I so hope that he does!
Laura was as convinced as ever that she had not mistaken his interest. Furthermore, she strongly believed that honour would lead Mr. Templeton to make his excuses in some way, if he feared he had raised unreasonable hopes. To simply disappear without a word, leaving her feeling puzzled, hurt, even insulted, would not be gentleman-like. In Laura’s judgement, he was a man who would never avoid the responsibilities of a gentleman.
Some accident has befallen him, she thought. I shall prevail upon my brother to help uncover the truth.
Weary enough, she went back to bed.
Laura slept until well past nine o’clock. When she entered the small dining parlour, she felt it more confined and dim than usual. The table, lit with two candles, groaned with a selection of cold meats, pickles, eggs and fruit, from which Elspeth pecked daintily at this and that. Laura felt her stomach recoil.
“My dear, how ill you look!” cried Elspeth. “Does she not look very dreadful, Brother?”
“You do look tired, Laura,” said her brother. “Did you not sleep well?”
“I could barely sleep for thinking of this mystery, Edward.”
“You must try to avoid such thoughts, my dear.”
“Sarah will give you a sleeping draught tonight,” said Elspeth.
Laura waved away this offer. “There is something …”
“You shall have some toast,” said her sister. “I know you will prefer that.”
Elspeth nodded to the footman at the sideboard; he bowed and set about preparing to toast some bread at the fire.
“Thank you, Jonathon,” said Laura. She turned to her brother.
“Edward, there is something I wish you to do for me.”
“Of course,” he said, but she noted an unconvincing jocularity in his voice.
“I wish you to discover whether the horse that Mr. Templeton hired from the stables here was ever returned.”
Elspeth burst in: “Edward is not even acquainted with Mr. Templeton! For him to make enquiries would seem very peculiar.”
“Nothing could be easier. Men are forever loitering in stables and discussing the merits of various horses.”
Edward put down his cup, wiped his mouth and said, slowly, “Laura, my dear, I am not inclined to make enquiries after Mr. Templeton. Until he chooses to show himself, he is best forgot.”
“Forgot!” She bristled. “It is not as you think, Edward. As his friend, I wish to discover whether some mischance has befallen him. He would do the same for me, I am sure.”
“Your family would have cause to object if he made a public enquiry about you,” said Edward.
Elspeth cut in. “I should be very angry if a gentleman did so, if you had withdrawn yourself from his society.”
Laura opened her mouth to speak but words did not come. She felt the blood drain away from her cheeks. She stared at Edward, and he winced a little, looking away momentarily before returning her look with a blend of kind firmness and, horribly, of pity. Elspeth began to speak but Laura raised her hand and her sister fell silent, staring.
Laura said, “You were always my friend, Edward. At times you have been my only ally.”
“I am your friend and your ally now, dearest, did you but know it.”
“I think not.” She rose. “Pray excuse me, Elspeth,” she said.
“Where do you go, my love?” Now there was pity in her voice, pity laid on with a trowel.
Laura paused at the door but did not look back, saying, “I wish to walk out. Perhaps the sea air will relieve my feelings of oppression.” She left the room.
Edward looked at her keenly. “Elspeth, are you sure that you are not somewhat enjoying Laura’s discomfiture?”
Tears swelled upon Elspeth’s lashes and her lower lip trembled. “You do not know how I love my sister—I sacrificed myself for her!”
“Surely you don’t suggest that you married Mr. Evans for Laura’s sake?”
“Certainly, for Laura’s sake! She would not take our cousin when he offered. It was left to me to secure our comfort.”
“You both had income of your own from our mother’s fortune. I purchased Wintern Cottage for your use after our father died.”
“Yes—and Laura stayed crammed in there after my marriage, determined to disoblige me, and make me appear mean to the world. Only my aunt’s death—the loss of a chaperone—forced Laura to move to St Austell.”
“She would not leave Aunt Morrison alone in the world, despite the old lady’s cold nature. What is there to criticise in that?”
“You make it sound very fine.”
“It was not a luxurious life but it was the life of a gentlewoman.” Edward saw how ready his sister was to take offence, and said, “We are not all the same, Elspeth. Nobody blames you for desiring more comfort, and Mr. Evans was a man of highest character. He loved you very well to his dying day.”
“That day was a good deal further off than I had been led to expect.”
“Elspeth!”
“He was one and eighty! Everyone said he would not live above a twelve month—and I believed it. And why should he not love me well? A much younger man might feel gratitude for my hand.”
Edward sighed. “Let us not quarrel, Elspeth, over what is done. I wonder where Laura has gone.”
“Down to her precious sea. I cannot imagine …”
“She would surely not …” They looked at one another.
“You must go to the stables, Edward, before our sister does.”
“I just pray she is not there before me.”
He winced as he rose too quickly from his place, seizing his cane as Elspeth rang for his hat and gloves. He left with all speed.
Elspeth sank onto the sofa with a cross sigh. Laura had raised her hopes with her talk of Mr. Templeton. She should have known better than to think Laura would ever win a man. Heavens! Aunt Morrison was always saying that Elspeth must wait for her elder sister to marry before she accepted an offer—but she changed that idea very rapidly when Mr. Evans appeared. Six years of marriage, and now Elspeth was widowed, with Laura still a spinster. If she would marry, I might spend my time more freely with Lady Clarydon, Elspeth thought.
She smiled, and took a letter from her pocket. How kind the dear countess was to reply so speedily. She stroked the letter and put it away.
The way Edward spoke of Mr. Evans’s goodness, one would think Elspeth knew nothing of the matter. Of course, he had loved her well. What man would not! If he was old and ugly, then he must expect to pay for the affections of a pretty girl of sixteen. Ugh! Why had no one told her how it would be?
Laura had not gone to the stables but walked down to the foreshore and along the path to the Cobb. She did not feel inclined to walk out upon it; she merely glanced about the place for a sign of the one who was so much in her thoughts. He was not to be seen. The waves out at sea were choppy, as the wind had picked up again, blowing clouds across the sky.
Again the fishwives had their skirts hitched up well-nigh to their thighs. Laura looked towards them unseeing, as their powerful arms pulled on the net, until she was roused by one of them screeching “Get thee to thy work!” Her reverie broken, Laura saw that three ragged children stood idle, looking up at her, mouths open. One of the women waded out of the water and cuffed each over the ear. Crying “Ow”, they bent again to their task of sorting the fish in the baskets set on the stones. The woman gave Laura a sly, sidelong look over her shoulder, and headed back into the water. Laura’s brief urge to remonstrate subsided; how could she, a stranger, with no experience of want, hope to make a kind mother of the woman?
Further out in the harbour, she saw a small boat sailing close to the end of the Cobb, headed out of its shelter and into the sea beyond. How happily I would join in their adventure, following them out onto the ocean, she thought.
A portly old gentleman went along the lower walk on the breakwater, waving his stick in the direction of the boat. The sailors, two young men, saw him, and headed the boat back into calm waters.
As the old gentleman came back along the breakwater, Laura recognised him as Mr. Gurdon and guessed that the two young men were the grandsons he and his wife had been expecting. Here was her chance to ask after Mrs. Gurdon’s health, and perhaps to be invited to visit her. She gave Mr. Gurdon a cordial nod, but he appeared not to recognise her and trudged past, scowling. Laura felt a little affronted for a moment, until recalling that she had never found him a pleasant man in her few meetings with him over the years. A momentary hope of perhaps having some conversation with Mrs. Gurdon had to be abandoned.
There remained but one avenue of information about Mr. Templeton’s fate, and her brother refused to employ it.
Well, she thought, if he will not, I shall!
Laura entered the cobbled stable yard, wrinkling her nose as she stepped around a pile of steaming manure. A lad by the stable door stopped his mucking out and leant on his rake, mouth open.
“It seems you have a deal to do,” she said, in a kindly manner. He only gaped, while his raked-up pile of dirty straw and droppings began to spill over his boots.
“Are there many horses in these stables?” asked Laura.
“Aye, miss.”
“Your master hires them out to visitors, I suppose.”
“Aye, miss.” Staring, he took a few steps towards her and she recoiled from his stink, stepping back.
“Did a gentleman hire one of your horses on Tuesday morning?” she asked.
“Tuesday, miss?” A stolid stupidity took the place of awe.
She saw the futility of further questions, as the poor lad was deficient.
“Horses come in and horses go out, miss,” he said, eager to please.
“Never mind. I see you are a good lad.”
At that point, there came a shout, “Fool! Get about thy work!”
An ostler had come out of the stables and, swaggering over to Laura, he stood before her with his hands in his pockets. Taken aback by his disrespectful stance, she did not hide her displeasure.
The ostler adopted an offensive, insinuating tone. “The lad be not right in the ’ead, miss. Master keeps him out of charity.”
“I hope you can help me,” said Laura, a cold tone entering her voice to prompt him to adopt a more respectful stance. “I am enquiring about a horse that was taken on Tuesday by a gentleman who wished to ride it to Charmouth.”
“Tuesday, you say, miss?” From his tone, she may as well have named a date two years before.
“Yes, Tuesday, when a gale began to blow up, followed by a heavy fall of rain.” The ostler scratched his chin.
“Tuesday, let me think now. The physician came to see the old lady as was taken ill.” He jerked his head up towards the second floor of the inn. “He came in his own carriage. Medical men must go about in all weathers, miss. He seed someone else in the town … who was it now?”
“It does not signify who his patients were, for I am not speaking of the physician. This gentleman was a clergyman, a very tall gentleman.”
“Oh, yes, you’ll not know that family, not a lady such as yourself.” His tone now was downright insulting.
“You will address me with more respect.”
“Yes, miss. ’Tis not like a parson to be riding about in the wind and rain. Parsons likes their comforts.”
“Nevertheless, he took a horse from here, on Tuesday.”
He gave a slow, insinuating grin. “I were here all day and there weren’t no gentleman su
ch as you describe come in.”
“How can you tell such lies? If you cannot recall, own it.”
His eyes took a quick survey of her figure. She was on the verge of striking him; would indeed report him to his master, as soon as she extracted the information she sought.
“I saw him go into this yard.”
“If the truth don’t satisfy thee, miss, ’tis not my fault.”
She stared at him, fierce in her disbelief, and he stared back.
“Laura!” She spun around on hearing her brother’s voice. “My dear, I have been looking for you.” He joined them, limping as swiftly as he could across the slippery yard to them. He had formed the impression that the ostler was addressing his sister impudently from the man’s stance.
Ignoring the ostler, he said to her, “Have you enquired after my friend?” He turned to the servant. “I am concerned about the safety of my friend, Mr. Templeton.”
“Oh,” he answered. “He be your friend, sir.”
“He took a horse from this stable. Has the horse been returned safely?”
“No, sir, there were no gentleman come in that morning for a horse.”
“What do you say? Answer me truthfully or it’ll be the worse for you.”
The ostler dropped his defiant pose at once, his shoulders drooping. “I’d have recalled him, for my master won’t hire out his beasts to strangers when ’tis stormy.”
Edward knew not whether to believe it. He was a fair judge of men after all his years at sea and didn’t much like the specimen before him.
The Imaginary Gentleman Page 4
