Outcast

by Josephine Cox

  Emma was mesmerized. Try as she might, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his; and though every instinct told her to run from this place, she was unable to move. ‘I do love him so,’ she thought, ‘and I don’t want to go. I would wish for nothing else but that I could stay by his side.’ As he lowered his face so that it almost touched hers, Emma’s heart melted; and when he murmured, ‘I love you Emma,’ a wonderful tide of emotion surged through her. She offered no resistance when, suddenly, he grabbed her in his arms and kissed her with such longing that he took her breath away. In that exquisite moment, their passionate and intimate embrace warned Emma that, because of the way the river-people had taken her mama and ruined her papa’s life and because of the promise she herself had given her papa, there could be no future for her and Marlow. Emma also knew that any relationship which might have grown between them would be dangerous for Marlow – the scars on his back were a caution that must be heeded. So many things were against them, against their love, and Emma’s instincts urged her that she and Marlow could ignore these only at their own peril!

  As Emma wrenched herself from his embrace, Marlow made no move to restrain her because he already feared he’d gone too far. Instead, he reminded himself that Emma was of a different kind to the lasses he was used to. She had been brought up accustomed to the finer things in life, and was used to folk who might seek her affection in a more restrained fashion. He had also seen that, in spite of her outburst with Sal, Emma was quiet and deep-thinking, and might be overwhelmed by his forward display of emotion. Having her so close, yet still so far away from him, gave him a feeling of desperation. He wanted her so much. He meant to have her. But even now, when he was no more than a heartbeat away, Marlow Tanner sensed the barrier between them. For the first time in his life, he felt unsure and afraid.

  Hating every step that took her further away from him, Emma hurried along the quayside. On reaching the corner before she turned off towards the mill, she paused to look back, and, seeing that Marlow had gone, her heart sank within her. For a brief moment she was tempted to go back, and, as she stood there watching the spot where he had stood, an overwhelming sensation of warmth and joy came over her – just as she had felt on the two memorable occasions when she had found herself in Marlow’s company. However, Emma painfully realized that both times had been overshadowed by suffering and tragedy. The first meeting had culminated in the agonizing beating inflicted on Marlow by Caleb Crowther, as well as the distress she had unwittingly caused her dying papa through her foolhardy behaviour. Now, at their second encounter, a man had been killed and Sal Tanner badly hurt. For a moment, these thoughts haunted Emma and she prayed this was not some terrible omen for the future. ‘No matter,’ she murmured, still gazing towards the barge, ‘for our paths won’t likely cross again. They must not, Marlow Tanner. And I hope you can see that just as clearly as I can!’ But even as she muttered these words aloud, her heart was disobediently murmuring something to the contrary, and filling her with trepidation.

  Emma was so engrossed in her tortured thoughts of Marlow Tanner that she did not hear the stamp of swift and angry footsteps drawing ever closer to her. When a hand fell upon her shoulder and roughly swung her round, she gave out a cry of fright, her alarmed eyes coming to rest on the furious face of Caleb Crowther.

  ‘Well?’ he said, in a voice which warned Emma to be most careful. When she hesitated, he dug his fingers deeper into her shoulder. ‘I’m given to understand that you’ve been with the river-people. What I want to know . . . right now . . . is who are these people? What are their names? Take me to them this instant.’ His eyes grew even darker as they glared at her.

  ‘You’ve been misinformed, Uncle Caleb,’ replied Emma in a remarkably controlled voice, considering the turmoil within her. ‘There was so much chaos and confusion when the fire started, that Mr Denton urged me to get out quickly. I would have made my way straight home but . . . I couldn’t find Thomas.’ Thomas was standing slightly behind Caleb Crowther, to his left. Emma glanced at him and gave up two small prayers – one that Thomas would not betray her, and the other asking forgiveness for the blatant lie she had just told.

  At that instant, something happened which struck the fear of God in Emma’s heart, and for a brief moment she was convinced it was her just punishment for the sin she had just committed. For, loud and clear, Sal Tanner’s voice sailed the length of the wharf. ‘Sod an’ bugger it, Marlow! ’Ow the ’ell am I supposed to get better if yer keeps depriving me o’ me bloody booze! Best medicine in the world is a swig of booze, yer silly arse!’

  At once, Caleb Crowther stretched his neck to see where the voice might be coming from. Thomas also glanced along the wharf, a fearful expression in his nervous eyes. As for Emma, she crossed her fingers behind her back and kept her serious gaze constantly on her uncle’s face. For a long, nerve-wracking moment, it seemed as though Caleb Crowther would stride off to investigate. When he looked back into Emma’s calm and seemingly innocent face, there was still the germ of suspicion lurking in his fiery eyes. Without taking either his hand or his probing gaze from Emma, he said in a quiet voice, ‘Thomas . . . is what Miss Grady says the truth? Were you not at your station waiting to speed her home the minute her duties were done?’ Still, he kept his eyes securely fixed on Emma.

  Emma felt Thomas’s gaze on her, but she dared not look at him. All she could do was to hope desperately that he would give credence to her lie. For, Thomas had indeed been ready and eager to take her away the minute Gregory Denton had thrust her towards that side door.

  ‘T’ain’t Miss Grady’s fault at all,’ replied Thomas, and Emma had to stop herself from visibly showing her heartfelt relief. ‘When that fire started, I saw Miss Grady making her way towards me . . . but I could see the way of things right enough, Mr Crowther, sir. If it hadn’t been every man to the helm . . . so to speak, well, the whole place could a’ been engulfed, don’t yer see? I called out to Miss Grady to get right away from there!’

  ‘And that’s what I did, Uncle Caleb,’ Emma intervened with a wide, innocent look. ‘I’ve been wandering up and down the wharf . . . staying out of harm’s way, that’s all.’

  Now Caleb Crowther let go of Emma and swung himself about to address Thomas. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that before, you bloody fool?’ he demanded.

  ‘’Cause yer never asked me, Mr Crowther, sir,’ replied Thomas, looking suitably sheepish.

  Caleb Crowther gave out a groan, together with the instruction. ‘Get Miss Grady home this instant. Then come back here. There’s damage to be assessed and a certain fellow to be spoken to.’ As he strode away, neither Thomas nor Emma had any doubts as to who that ‘certain fellow’ was.

  ‘Poor Mr Denton,’ said Emma with a little smile, hurrying alongside Thomas as they made their way back to the carriage. ‘As if he hasn’t had enough trouble for one day.’

  To which Thomas gave a noisy snigger. ‘Oh, he’ll be all right, Miss Grady. They do say as how Gregory Denton can handle any occasion most admirably !’ The last two words were greatly exaggerated, causing Emma to lightly reprimand him.

  ‘All the same,’ she said, ‘I shouldn’t think he’s yet had to deal with such an occasion as Mr Crowther in full sail.’ In all truth, Emma hoped poor Mr Denton wouldn’t be subjected to too much condemnation on her account. She was certain that Mr Denton would be unable to get a word in against the fury of her uncle’s explosive temper, which was just as well since he had after all seen her going off with the Tanners – and there was not the slightest doubt in her mind that it was he who had alerted her uncle.

  As they left the wharf, the dry acrid smell of charred cotton bales followed them – clinging to their clothes, stinging their throats, and causing Emma to be gripped by a severe coughing spasm.

  ‘Lord love us!’ exclaimed Thomas, expertly manoeuvring the horse and carriage in and out of the numerous highly-stacked piles of merchandise, and skilfully avoiding the dockers who were by now filtering back from
the fire to their posts, ready to work that much harder in order to catch up on their duties. ‘It’s to be hoped you ain’t goin’ down wi’ some’at nasty. By! That Mrs Manfred would ’ave me swinging fro’ the end of a rope if you’ve tekken badly on my account!’ It was well-known that Mrs Manfred considered Miss Grady almost as her own lass. Look at the way she’d almost thrown a fit just now when it was reported that Miss Grady was suspected of going off with the river-folk. But then, Thomas didn’t blame Mrs Manfred, because Miss Grady was a grand little lass, that she was. What’s more, he hadn’t minded saving her with a lie just now – though it would cost him a prayer or two come Sunday! But then he was sure the Lord would understand, and he said as much to Mrs Manfred on their return, adding with fervent belief, ‘I’m sure if the Good Lord were faced wi’ Caleb Crowther on the one side, an’ Miss Grady on the other, himself would a done the very same thing!’

  ‘Away with you!’ Mrs Manfred had told him, with feigned horror, ‘You’ll not ease your conscience that way.’ However, before he skulked away, she brought back the smile to his face by adding, ‘All the same, Thomas lad . . . there are times when we’re called on to go against our teaching, in order to see justice done!’

  As Thomas made his way to the stables, Emma found herself being unceremoniously ushered into the house. ‘I watched from the window for you, Miss Grady,’ Mrs. Manfred explained, ‘I wanted to come out and stop you, before you were confronted by Mrs Crowther.’ As they drew nearer to the front door, she lowered her voice, saying, ‘She’s in the drawing-room, waiting for an explanation. You just tell her what you told Mr Crowther . . . you did not go near the river-folk!’ Here, she gave Emma a suspicious look. ‘You can tell me the real story later!’

  It was six p.m. when Emma answered the knock on her bedroom door, to find Mrs Manfred standing there. Her audience with Agnes Crowther had been brief and, much to Emma’s surprise, less of an ordeal than she had anticipated. Her aunt appeared to have other things on her mind, not least of which appeared to be a letter that she continuously played with throughout her questioning of Emma. She appeared to Emma to be extremely agitated and unusually nervous and Emma mentioned this now, to Mrs Manfred. ‘She hardly seemed to mind a word I said, Manny,’ Emma concluded.

  ‘Aye, well . . . she and the master had a deal of words over that letter . . . the pair of ’em got so worked up, we could hear the heated exchange all over the house!’ explained Mrs Manfred in a hushed tone. ‘And well they might be worked up!’ she went on, drawing Emma away from the bedroom door, fearing that they might be overheard. Now, in an even more subdued tone, she told Emma how the letter appeared to have been sent by the headmistress of ‘that posh establishment’ to which Martha Crowther had been despatched with such fuss some weeks ago. ‘A right to-do, there is, Miss Grady,’ continued Mrs Manfred, her hand on Emma’s arm as she constantly watched the door. As she continued, Emma was horrified to hear how Martha had caused such trouble at the school that the headmistress had insisted on seeing both of her parents straightaway. There was even a possibility that she might be expelled!

  ‘Expelled? . . . Martha Crowther?’ Emma could hardly believe her ears.

  ‘There is every chance that such a thing could happen,’ said Mrs Manfred, afterwards shaking her head and drawing her lips into a tight little pucker.

  ‘I’m not surprised Uncle Caleb was in a worse mood than usual,’ exclaimed Emma, ‘and that certainly explains why I was sent so swiftly from the drawing-room, earlier.’

  ‘Hhm! For all her airs and graces . . . and for all that she never once passes an opportunity to slap you down . . . Mrs Crowther’s precious daughter is not the blameless little soul she would have her be! From what I was able to gather, the peevish and spiteful side to Miss Crowther’s nature has been given full rein since leaving this house. Apparently, she’s caused a deal of mischief, and upset a number of the other girls at the school . . . also, there’s a question of something going missing, which Miss Crowther insists has been stolen by a certain individual.’

  All the while Mrs Manfred was relating her story, Emma’s eyes were popping from her head. She just couldn’t believe it. Martha Crowther – that arrogant and thoroughly spoiled girl, who could never do anything wrong! Well, it seemed now as though her true colours were flying at long last! Trying desperately hard not to laugh, Emma thought how dreadful the scandal hereabouts would be if the only child of Caleb Crowther, the Justice, and his wife Agnes, the proud peacock, was sent home in disgrace from the posh school? Oh, the very idea! Emma swung away from the homely housekeeper and, throwing herself on to the bed, collapsed into a fit of laughter, burying her head in the pillow to smother the sound.

  ‘You stop that at once!’ ordered Mrs Manfred, striding to the bed and shaking Emma by the shoulder. ‘This is a very serious matter, I’ll have you know . . . not one to be taken lightly by any standards.’ Mrs Manfred had very firm principles regarding a young lady’s behaviour, and, at the moment, neither Martha Crowther’s, nor Emma’s in making so light of the matter, was an example of good upbringing.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Manny,’ said Emma in a contrite voice, as she leaned on one elbow and raised her mischievously smiling eyes. ‘I shouldn’t laugh, I know. It’s a disgraceful thing for Martha to cause such mischief and bring shame on the Crowther name . . . but . . . well . . .’ Then, in spite of her best efforts to contain herself, Emma’s serious expression began to crumble, her eyes grew increasingly merry and she evaporated into a convulsion of giggling. ‘Oh, Manny!’ she cried, looking directly into the other woman’s disapproving scowl, ‘Can’t you just see the funny side of it?’ Whereupon, she fell against Mrs Manfred and hugged her fiercely. In a minute, Mrs Manfred was also chuckling.

  ‘You’re a naughty one!’ she reprimanded Emma, ‘But you’re right. I can just see Mrs Crowther’s expression when she opened that letter!’ Still holding Emma fast, she too shook with laughter.

  When they eventually composed themselves, the discussion turned to the other incident of the day – involving Emma and the river-folk. Mrs Manfred related to Emma how the letter had arrived not long before Thomas had brought the message from Gregory Denton. ‘In fact, the two of them were still loudly arguing over it,’ she explained, ‘when the news came, that not only had there been a fire, but that you had been seen going away in the company of the river-folk!’

  As she listened to what had taken place, Emma could easily see how such a series of events might send Caleb Crowther into an explosive mood. Suddenly, she felt sorry for Gregory Denton, who had no doubt borne the brunt of that temper. In all truth, Emma thought, he had probably acted in what he thought were her best interests. She made up her mind straightaway to make amends with the poor fellow at the first opportunity.

  ‘And did you go off with the river-folk?’ demanded Mrs Manfred now, a tremor of fear in her voice.

  For a long moment, Emma gave no answer. Instead, her thoughts had wandered back to the wharf, to that colourful, welcoming, Tanner barge, and to Marlow Tanner himself. Whenever she thought of him, that same warm glow and wonderful feeling of contentment came into her heart. She was both afraid and possessive of the thoughts which now suffused her mind – that special way in which his dark, lustrous eyes murmured to her in the warmth of his smile; the way her foolish heart trembled when he spoke to her in that soft, caressing voice. But, most of all, Emma was held forever in his embrace, with the tender strength of his kiss still burning on her mouth, and that passionate look of longing in his eyes doing unexplainable things to her aching heart. All of these emotions were alien to Emma. They frightened her. But, for all that, she could not help but cherish them.

  ‘I will have the truth, child!’ Mrs Manfred interrupted Emma’s thoughts. She had watched Emma closely, and was filled with apprehension when she saw Emma’s face light up as she became lost in her thoughts. Her treasured memories of Marlow Tanner were clearly reflected on her lovely features as she raised her soft grey eyes to M
rs Manfred. In answer to the older woman’s question, she replied simply, ‘I love him, Manny.’

  ‘No, no, child! You don’t love him . . . What can you even know of love? With you a child not yet sixteen?’ The desperation betrayed itself in her voice, as she lifted her two hands and tenderly placed one on each of Emma’s small shoulders.

  ‘You’re right, Manny darling,’ Emma conceded, her heart moved by the stricken look on the older woman’s face. ‘I don’t know anything about love . . . or how it should feel. All I do know is that, whenever I think of him, every corner of my being lights up, and I want nothing more than to spend my whole life by his side!’ Emma held nothing back now, as she poured her heart out to the only real friend she had. She whispered of her love and her fears . . . of the way Marlow beckoned to her and how she could see in him all of her dreams. And now, with her eyes downcast and her heart heavy, Emma told Mrs Manfred of the fervent promise she had given to her papa, and how it weighed on her shoulders ‘like the end of the world.’

  All the time Emma had been talking, Mrs Manfred had softly wept. If she had thought Emma to be still a child, she was sorely wrong. If she had believed Emma could know nothing of love, then she herself knew even less. If she had convinced herself that, in having lost first her mama, then her darling papa, and consequently having been placed at the mercy of the Crowthers, Emma had been dealt all the cruelties that life could deal her, then she was indeed an old fool. For, Mrs Manfred had never seen a person so in love, and so tormented because of it, as her darling Emma was now. Because she regarded Emma almost as her own flesh and blood, she must advise her for the best: and that meant persuading Emma to put the young bargee out of her mind and out of her heart.