“Come, let us go in,” he said to his sister. “I shall communicate with my friend by other means.”
For a moment he feared she would not acquiesce but Laura saw the futility of attempting to get the truth out of the ostler. Her dignity was compromised enough by the interpretation he seemed to have put upon her appearance at the stable.
They paused a moment in the street and she said quietly, “You were perfectly correct, Edward, about how it would appear if I made enquiries. Even the servant thought it indecorous.”
“Nay, my dear, do not trouble yourself over the opinion of such a low fellow as this.”
They went in and began to mount the stairs. Pausing before their door, Laura said, “I think Mr. Templeton may have arrived in Lyme on horseback. It would be the business of a moment to retrieve the animal from some other servant and be gone, without this ostler so much as seeing him.”
“Laura, you just acknowledged the indelicacy of this investigation.”
“Yes, but it is so unfair. There is nothing shameful in my friendship with the gentleman.”
“I think only of how it may seem to others. It may well appear that you met Mr. Templeton by prior arrangement.”
“No, I was expecting him later, at the inn; I went out that morning to enjoy the wildness of the weather.”
He smiled. “You are singular in that taste, dearest.”
She laughed, hollowly. “Am I not singular in every particular?”
“There is no other person such as you in all the world.”
Silently she said to herself that there was one other, in the world, with much the same peculiarities as her own. Yet the world seemed to conspire to keep him out of her way.
CHAPTER 5
THE NEXT DAY WAS SUNDAY and, despite the wind, they walked to church with Mrs. Evans positively hugging Laura’s arm to her side, as though the populace of Lyme were a danger to her sister. The widow’s blonde curls peeped out from beneath her close black bonnet, creating a hint of a mysterious, lovely woman imprisoned in her grieving.
Yet Laura attracted more attention than her sister. Sidelong glances followed her passage up the aisle, and the hiss of whispers reached her ears but the voices were not loud enough for her to make out their meaning.
“That is Miss Morrison, who pursues that gentleman we hear of?”
“Indeed it is. I had it from my cook, who heard it from the butcher’s boy. She went into the stables at the Lion of all places.”
“The stables! Why?”
“To discover where her admirer went.”
“How very immodest! To meet a gentleman by chance, when walking, is one thing; to enquire of a servant in regard to him is quite another!”
“The poor man had never seen the gentleman and she accused him of lying!”
“No!”
The lady occupying the pew in front turned around. “The family seems desperate to marry the poor creature off. My husband heard at the inn that the widowed lady—her sister—questioned the servants there about him, too.”
“They go about the matter the wrong way. A lady must allow a gentleman to pursue.”
“Until she secures him.”
“How true!” The ladies smothered their laughter, and turned to watch the visitors’ progress.
Laura entered the pew that she had occupied with Mr. and Mrs. Gurdon the previous Sunday. Now the grandsons occupied their grandmother’s place and Mr. Gurdon gestured to them abruptly to move along, leaving a space between him and the newcomers. He neglected to turn to Laura, giving her no opportunity to greet him. Laura did not reward his inattention with so much as a look but was angered by his neglect, for he knew of her good name and might have given her countenance in the midst of mistaken strangers.
Above the rising sound of the wind, the parson preached long and loudly about the duty of young women to be modest, demure and to scrupulously avoid putting themselves forward in society. If the parishioners hoped for blushes, they were disappointed, for Laura kept her head raised and looked directly at the vicar. He bent his gaze on everyone but her, avoiding the sharp questioning of her stare. Her look plainly showed how unjust, even ridiculous, she considered his censure.
There was no sign of the inner feelings of the Morrison trio to be enjoyed by the townsfolk as they left the church. Laura displayed a cool dignity, Elspeth a disdain that all but curled her lip, and the captain went out after them with a stern expression, discouraging others from attempting to meet his eye. They left at once, Laura walking a little apart from her relations, preoccupied with discomfort over being the object of gossip.
Elspeth cast her disparaging eye about the street. “I never saw so dull and shabby a place,” she said. “I know not what people see in it—there is not a building worth a second look. And one so quickly tires of inferior society.”
“The country air at Oakmont will suit you better,” said Edward.
“Sir Richard does not expect us at Oakmont Manor until November,” said Mrs. Evans. “If we stay until the New Year, it will be a very long visit.”
“I am very concerned about our sister,” he said quietly. “Perhaps we should return to your house, where I can stay for a time and help you watch over Laura.”
“St Austell? No, Edward. All is confusion there, with the refurbishment of the reception rooms. Let us go and be dull at Oakmont.”
“The manor provides the comfort of the familiar, and the kindness of our cousin is unvarying.”
“Soon it will be a year since my husband so sadly passed away. I will be in half-mourning when I next see Lady Clarydon.”
He did not answer this, only shrugged slightly. Laura caught up with them, Edward’s turned-up sleeve brushing her shoulder briefly. He glanced at her but she did not give him the ironical look he expected.
What had happened to so disturb his sister’s equanimity, he wondered. She had always been sensible, guarded, dignified. Would that he had met this fellow himself, and come to his own conclusions. He did not like it that Mr. Templeton was so mysterious. A gentleman’s behaviour should require no explanation or excuses. How had Laura become so desperate for affection that she imagined more than the man meant?
In the privacy of their sitting room, Elspeth turned on her sister.
“What have you done, Laura, to expose me to such humiliation? My head aches intolerably!”
“You know very well I would do nothing to provoke such censure.”
Elspeth’s voice faded to a potent whisper, and she sank upon the sofa.
“You ought never to have gone down to the stables!”
“What could the St Michael’s congregation know of that? Had the ostler not been so determined to disoblige me, I may have discovered the truth.”
“You ought not to be discovering the truth about a gentleman you barely know.” Elspeth’s mouth took on a prissy look of distaste as she added, “… a gentleman whom you first encountered in the streets.”
Laura walked to the window, saying, “You make out Broad Street to be a sink of iniquity.”
“It may as well be!” cried her sister, pressing her handkerchief to her eyes. “The whole place is laughing at you for an old spinster pursuing a terrified gentleman.”
“How I value your good opinion,” said Laura coldly, keeping her back turned to her. Elspeth burst into tears.
Edward slowly came over to join Laura by the window. “What a charming spectacle we make, Brother,” she said. He kissed her cheek, then went over to Elspeth and sat on the edge of the sofa.
“Come, Elspeth,” he said. “It does not do for us to be divided.”
She lowered her handkerchief. “What do you suggest, dear Edward?”
“We must leave Lyme tomorrow; that much is plain. We will go to Oakmont Manor, as agreed, and stay there quietly for a time.”
“That will do very well, Edward.”
“I shall give orders for the carriages to be ready early. I will travel with you. My carriage can follow.”
“What am I to do all alone in Lyme?” asked Laura.
“All alone! You will come with us, naturally,” said Elspeth.
Laura walked about the room, while her brother and sister watched. She turned to them. “I must remain here. I can discover nothing if we remove to Oakmont.”
Elspeth’s eyes narrowed. “What you have yet to discover, Laura, is clear to everyone here,” she said. “Mr. Templeton has left the district with no intention of returning.”
Laura turned back to the window, breathless with anger that, for the first time, her sister stated her belief without disguise—and her brother did not contradict her!
Struggling to control her anger, she said, “I tell you that something has happened to him.”
Her sister began to speak but Edward interrupted. “Mr. Templeton has only to consult the visiting book at Number 54 to discover my direction.”
Laura’s voice trembled as she said, “There is truth in that.”
Edward said gently, “Believe me, my dear, where a man fixes his intentions, nothing will prevent him from finding the lady.”
“You think me a lovesick fool!” Laura gesticulated angrily with her hands as she paced across the room. “Have I not ever had a talent for discovering the true character of those I meet?”
“Indeed you have, yet …”
“I understand this man. He would never be so ill-bred as to forsake his promise, without making his excuses.”
“If this is so, Laura, let others discover his difficulty, and in time he will make amends. Meanwhile, there has been gossip about you.”
“Laura, you know how easily damaged a woman’s reputation can be!” said Elspeth.
“This talk will best be forgot if we leave.”
Laura stood before them. “Can you not see the very strangeness of this gossip, Edward? It is logic and logic alone that informs me. I have been examining my own behaviour and there is no sensible explanation for all the people in the town to censure me on so little pretext. Mr. Gurdon cut me near the Cobb yesterday, before I went to the stables.”
“But did he, dearest?” said Elspeth. “Yesterday, you said that Mr. Gurdon had walked past you without even seeing you. I believe you suggested he grows blind as well as ill-tempered.”
“Yes, but now I see that he cut me.”
“Perhaps he has some cause of which I am not informed.”
Laura gave Elspeth a fierce and searching look.
“It is quite impossible to discuss any question with you, Elspeth, beyond the lace on Lady Clarydon’s gown, or the precise breeding of her pug.”
“I do no harm to my family’s name with such innocent subjects!”
They all started as a flash lit up the darkening room and thunder rumbled its disapproval. The servant entered to light the candles. Laura looked out at the sky; heavy masses of cloud were building up over the sea. She recalled standing on the path with Mr. Templeton, while the wind blustered in from the sea. She had seen no one else by the shore—the fishing boats were all well in by then, and the tide too high for the fisherwomen. Overnight, all the black promise of a storm dissipated in rain and the weather improved.
The next day, she had walked to the Cobb with her brother. She wrote in her journal about the boy who approached Edward with that odd mixture of awe and confidence. Oh! How could I have forgotten his words?—“I seed thee yonder in the tempest, miss.” He was there, somewhere, on Tuesday.
“Edward!” Laura cried. “Do you recall the urchin on the Cobb that day—he asked you if you were a hero, when all along he mostly cared to extract a penny from you.”
Edward thought a moment. “That’s right! He was a mischievous fellow, if I am any judge.”
“Do you not see, Brother? He said that he saw me. He may have seen Mr. Templeton departing Lyme and know the direction he took.”
“What of it, Laura?” said Edward. “Fifty occupants of the low part of the town may have seen him but what are they to us?”
“I hope the day has not come when I must make arrangements with a beggar in regard to the society I keep!” said Elspeth.
Laura turned to the door.
“Where are you going, Laura?” cried Elspeth.
“I shall rest in my room until dinner.”
“Pray do that, dear heart! I shall send Sarah with a soothing draught,” said Elspeth, half-sitting in her determination to be of use.
“No, thank you.” Laura did not turn to her sister. “I will need no such assistance for I am very tired.”
Laura closed her bedroom door and leant against it for a moment. She was exhausted by the struggle and filled with fury towards Elspeth, who behaved as though Laura had lost her reason.
I will not permit Elspeth to abuse her present advantage, she thought.
There was a tap on the door, almost at her ear, and she jumped.
“Leave me, please, Elspeth!” she said.
“’Tis Sarah, miss, with a draught for you.”
Laura let her in. “I am sorry, Sarah.”
“The mistress said I was to help you undress. Are you ill?”
“No, thank you, only tired. I do not need assistance. Pray place the draught upon the table.” Sarah placed the candle and drink she carried on the table, and left the room.
Laura locked the door. Although it was just after noon, the room was all but dark. The ancient bed loomed large, but she had no plan to enter it as yet.
She dressed for the rain that threatened, in her brown woollen coat and stout boots, pulling on a thick hooded cloak. She leant forward to blow out the candle. Careful to make little sound with her boots, Laura stole out through the entry to their rooms; then went along the stone passage and down the stairs to the street. There she pulled the hood up over her bonnet. Soon after her arrival, Mrs. Gurdon had pointed out a direction in the lower part of the town, saying, “You must avoid that place, my dear, on your rambles. I believe the fisher folk live along there.”
Her head lowered against the rain, Laura went swiftly down the street. The wind, tearing wetly off the sea, pulled at her cloak, until she drew it tight about her. At the entrance to the alley, she paused, peering in. It was a narrow, crooked lane hemmed in by the uneven walls of stone tenements. Here and there, ramshackle huts huddled in their shadow. The cobbles were awash with water that had picked up the filth, sending it pell-mell along the middle of the lane.
Laura raised the hem of her skirts, stained already with mud, and stepped into the alley. There was not a soul to be seen as she began to walk slowly down the side of the lane. A door opened abruptly and a small girl darted from a hut and collided with her. The child reeled back, her grubby face a picture of astonishment, then, as she looked up at Laura, in fear.
Her lips trembled. “Ma!” she called.
“You need not fear me, child,” said Laura. “That was mere mischance.”
The little mouth gaped wordlessly.
“I am a stranger but you need not be afraid.”
Still the child looked up silently, before, to Laura’s surprise, she began to edge away, cringing against the wall, one hand reaching out for the door.
Laura pulled a coin from her purse and held it up. The child froze, mesmerised by the shiny penny.
“Can you give me a direction, child?” asked Laura. The girl looked from the coin to Laura’s face but did not speak.
“This will be yours if you tell me where to find a boy to help me.”
“To run an errand?”
“No. I am looking for a particular boy, a fisherwoman’s son; he stands perhaps this high.” Laura gestured. “He is a boy with black hair.”
The child frowned, for doubtless there were several such boys in the alley.
Laura tried again. “He is a bold boy, an impudent boy, not afraid of his betters.”
“That be Sassy Tom!” The girl reached for the coin, even as some doubt clouded her eyes again.
Laura held the coin from her reach.
“Where does Tom l
ive?”
“You’ll not hurt him?”
“Of course I won’t hurt him, child. What a thought!” To what evils had the child been exposed in her short life to make her so suspicious? thought Laura. She said, “Where does he live?”
The girl looked from the coin to Laura’s face, and behind her to the door of her hut.
Laura opened her purse and produced another penny.
“You won’t tell ’twas me as told thee?”
“Never.”
“He lives there.” Her little finger wavered as she pointed to a shack, put together from the salvaged remains of shipwrecks, a few doors further into the lane. Laura lowered her hand; the child seized the coins and ran back inside the hut, slamming the flimsy door.
In the increasing rain, Laura picked her way across the cobbles, slippery with rain and refuse. Fumbling in her pocket for her handkerchief, she held it to her nose, inhaling its scent in an attempt to combat the fetid odours of the place. She stood before the door, of crooked driftwood planks. She hesitated only a moment; then raised her hand and knocked.
The door opened a crack, and Laura saw part of a face, topped with tangled hair.
“What do you want with us?” It was a woman’s voice, slurred and rough. “Leave us alone!” she hissed, through broken teeth.
“I can help you,” said Laura, “and I believe your son can help me.”
“He’s helped you a deal too much. Leave him be.”
“How has he helped me?”
“I don’t take to fancy tricks. You done wrong by my boy.”
“I have done nothing to the child. I only wish to ask him what he saw, and whom he saw, five days ago.”
“Ma!” Laura heard, but could not make out the rest of the words. The woman turned and looked over her shoulder. “Stay quiet, Tom. Ya ma’ll deal with this.”
There was a shuffling sound, of something dragged across the floor.
“No, Tom!” The harridan turned and Laura took the opportunity to step past her into the dankness of the room. She could see nothing at first but, as her eyes adjusted, she looked around and still could not see him. Then she heard a mumble, almost at her feet. She looked down and sharply drew breath. The urchin, agile and impudent—who had called out to her so saucily a few days before—was dragging himself across the floor, with one leg splinted in rough boards. His once lively face was a lump of bruises, and his right eye closed with swollen flesh.
The Imaginary Gentleman Page 5
