The Body on the Beach (The Weymouth Trilogy)

by Lizzie Church

  ‘Go on then, Bob,’ encouraged Giles. ‘You play with them for half an hour. Your mama and I will sit and watch.’

  Bob required no second bidding. Without further ado he raced off down the beach, careless of the fine sand exploding into his boots at every step, and was soon gainfully employed in carving out the castle’s moat ready for the waters to return.

  Giles and Kathryn sat on the beach. Giles spotted an acquaintance of his, standing on the Esplanade nearby, and wandered away to speak to him for a few minutes. Kathryn remained on her own, holding her sunshade overhead. She clasped her knees with her other arm and gazed dreamily out to sea. It was almost like old times.

  After a while Giles returned. Kathryn fetched Bob, who had just had the satisfaction of seeing his handiwork flooded and then crumble away, and they set out again through the town and over the bridge towards the Nose. The Nose was a promontory of green spaces and woodland high above Weymouth, replete with pleasant walks and wonderful views across the bay to Preston and beyond. It was guarded by a battery of fine heavy canon (which interested both Bob and his papa greatly) by which had been built a small, conical building housing what Giles had called the ‘camera obscura’. As none of them had ever seen a camera obscura before – and two of them had never even heard of one – they were quite intrigued to find out exactly what it was. In the event they found themselves in a darkened, vaulted room in which, in some magical manner involving a giant mirror or two, a complete projection of Weymouth Bay could be seen on the floor beneath them. Kathryn found it quite intriguing and wondered whether Mr Berkeley might know how it worked.

  They followed a winding path through some trees and then stopped at a viewpoint nearby. The viewpoint provided a splendid view across the waters to Portland. Looking southwards Kathryn thought that she could just make out the treetops of the garden at Belvoir House in the distance. She ignored them determinedly and looked the other way.

  ‘What a lovely place,’ she said instead, smiling up at Giles. ‘I’m so glad you brought us here. Look, Bob – you can almost see our house from here.’

  ‘Come along then you two,’ said Giles. ‘Let’s be getting back and I’ll buy you both some tea at the Royal.’

  Kathryn was a little concerned that she should be recognised in the Royal. After all, she had been a regular visitor there for several months now and yet Giles had still not discovered her secret. In the event she didn’t need to worry. Other than the steward and M Almond, the chef, she very rarely met anyone as she slipped into her sewing room and, nobody taking much notice of the little family by the door, she was left to enjoy her tea and cakes in peace.

  ‘Have you come to watch the assembly, sir?’ enquired the waiter, conversationally, as he laid out the tea things. ‘I understand it will be a glittering occasion.’

  The waiter explained that, it being Princess Amelia’s birthday, a great party was due to be held in the Assembly Rooms upstairs that evening and that almost two hundred people were expected to attend. ‘It will all be very grand, so they say. The cream of London society as well as the local gentry has all been invited.’

  Unfortunately it appeared that the party would not be starting until late – too late for them to stay and watch the guests as they arrived. Instead, Giles decided that they ought to be getting home. He went out to the back for a moment before they left, while Kathryn and Bob waited for him at the front door. It was lucky that he did so, for at the very moment that he disappeared Bob gave a great shriek of joy and raced down the steps to the pavement.

  ‘Uncle Andrew,’ he cried, chasing after a figure whom he had just spotted passing below. ‘Uncle Andrew. Here we are – in this smart hotel again.’

  Mr Berkeley stopped in his tracks and turned around. In a moment Bob was in his arms, being thrown up, giggling with delight. Kathryn looked behind her, horrified, hoping that Giles would not catch them before Bob had been returned to her side.

  ‘Giles is here,’ was all she could say. ‘Bob – come to me this instant. I have told you before how displeased papa will be if you mention Mr Berkeley to his face.’

  Mr Berkeley put him down immediately and whispered in his ear.

  ‘Go to your mama,’ he said. ‘We must not displease your papa, must we?’

  Bob privately agreed with him. He knew what his papa could be like. So he did as he was bid instantly and Mr Berkeley followed him up the stairs.

  ‘How are you, Mrs Miller?’ he asked, looking anxiously into her eyes. ‘Is everything...’

  ‘Berkeley – well met, old chap.’

  Giles appeared behind her, rearranging his clothing.

  ‘Aye – quite a surprise to see you here. Out for a jaunt, are you?’

  ‘We have been to The Lookout, and the Camera Escuria,’ said Bob, helpfully.

  ‘Obscura,’ corrected his mama. ‘It is the Camera Obscura, Bob. It was most interesting, Mr Berkeley. It revealed a perfect reflection of the bay.’

  ‘What about you, Berkeley? Looking mighty fine, I must say.’

  Mr Berkeley was resplendent in full evening attire which gave his already commanding figure a little-needed air of further refinement.

  ‘Yes. I’m off to dine with the Brewers,’ here he looked a little conscious. ‘I am escorting Miss Brewer to the Princess’s party tonight.’

  Kathryn looked crestfallen but luckily Giles didn’t notice.

  ‘You lucky devil,’ he said. ‘Must say I’d give anything to be in your shoes, Berkeley. Never seen a finer woman in all the universe.’

  Mr Berkeley cast Kathryn a sympathetic glance, which Kathryn pretended not to see.

  ‘Well, I must be going. It wouldn’t do to be late, after all. Were you just about to leave? I’ll walk along with you, if I may.’

  Kathryn held Bob’s hand closely in case her little son should be tempted to link up again with his friend. They soon reached Mr Brewer’s property, where Mr Berkeley took his leave. He winked at Bob and ruffled his hair and then sprang, two at a time, up the steps to the impressive front door, rang the bell, and was immediately let inside. It was fortunate that Giles appeared contented to walk the rest of the way in silence. Kathryn, feeling melancholy, was no longer in the mood to talk.

  Chapter 15

  It was a couple of weeks later that Mr Berkeley called at Sandsford House. It was a hot, humid day and Kathryn was in the garden in her work smock, digging potatoes for dinner, when she heard his horse on the gravel and went over to investigate who it was.

  ‘I am come to see your husband, Mrs Miller,’ he announced formally. ‘Is he about?’

  Kathryn’s heart leapt to see him.

  ‘No, Mr Berkeley. I think he has gone to see Mr Chard this afternoon. He will not be back until quite late, I expect.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Andrew sounded quite relieved. ‘Then I can spend some time with you instead, if I may?’

  If he may? Of course he may. What better way could there possibly be than to spend an afternoon with Andrew, in the garden? He jumped down from the horse and led him round to the shed at the back, where Tom took him over and sorted out his tack.

  ‘I’ll get Sally to make us some tea. Shall we sit in the garden? I think Bob is down on the beach at the moment.’

  Sally was, if anything, even more pleased to see him than her mistress was. She immediately set to work with the kettle, and added a couple of freshly baked scones to the little tray that she brought out to them as they sat together in the shade.

  ‘I am so pleased to find you on your own at last, Mrs Miller. I have been desperately concerned. I want you to tell me how you are getting on.’

  Kathryn’s stomach fluttered annoyingly.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Berkeley. It is quite a comfort to me to know that I can count on you as my friend. But you need not be concerned. Giles has been quite sensible again recently. Our lives appear quite settled. Somehow we are managing very nicely – although he doesn’t talk to me about anything, you understand.’

  Mr Be
rkeley looked most uncomfortable.

  ‘So you think that everything is all right?’ he asked her, scrutinising her carefully. ‘He has not said anything to you about your situation?’

  Kathryn could tell that Mr Berkeley had something to tell her. His look frightened her a little.

  ‘He has said nothing – nothing at all. Since the time of that terrible letter it has seemed that everything has got back to normal. But I can see from your look that I must be mistaken. You have learned something that I do not know. What is it, Mr Berkeley? What is it that you have learned?’

  Andrew hesitated. It was as if he were searching for a suitable way to tell her.

  ‘I am so sorry to have to tell you this, Mrs Miller,’ he said at last. ‘I really am so sorry. But you must have a right to know – you will need to be prepared. It was something that your husband said a little while ago. He said something about Mr Brewer owning everything that he had. It just seemed so particular – such a strange thing to say - so I asked Mr Brewer about it only the other day. I regret that your husband’s huge gambling debt will come back to haunt you in due course, you see. It is apparently not sorted in quite the way that we could have hoped. I had originally thought that Mr Brewer had given your husband a mortgage against your property. That certainly would be the regular way of going about things. But it appears that Mr Miller needed a lot more money than Mr Brewer was prepared to provide. So he came up with a different proposition. His wife - Mrs Brewer - has long been wanting a country residence at which she can take her holidays. She has long thought that a property in Preston or Sutton should prove the perfect place for such a scheme. She can hold garden parties in the summer, entertain friends for weekends, come along whenever she chooses – in short, use it much more flexibly than she could possibly use a property much further afield. And Sandsford House is the ideal property for them – they have known of it by repute for a long time, apparently – I think that Mr Brewer was acquainted with a friend of your father’s at one time. The size is just what they would have wished - not too small and not too large – and its situation - convenient for the road and yet close enough to the sea – is similarly ideal. She has often remarked that she should like to have it above all things. So, in short, Mrs Miller – in short, your husband has sold him the place – lock, stock and barrel – and I fear that at some time in the not too distant future he will be requiring possession of his property.’

  Kathryn’s face went ashen. Her hand trembled so much that Andrew feared that she should scald herself. He gently released the dish of tea from her hand, and put it on the ground. Then he took the hand in both of his and squeezed it slightly.

  ‘I am so sorry to have to tell you this. I would rather not have had to say it for the world, but I thought you had a right to know. I think even Brewer is a little embarrassed about it, but his wife can be most persuasive and he was quite generous in the price he gave. Why he even gave Giles £50 on top. I cannot imagine for one moment that you have seen the benefit of any of that.’

  They sat in silence for a minute or two. Kathryn was having some difficulty in taking in what Mr Berkeley was telling her.

  ‘So you are saying that he has sold our property? That the money is all gone to pay his gambling debt and there is nothing left for us to live upon? But what are we expected to do? The land provides our only means of getting an income – apart from the few shillings that I earn for myself. If we are shorn of the property we shall have nothing. How are we supposed to live?’

  ‘I know not, Mrs Miller. I do not even know of Mr Brewer’s exact plans. That he intends to take up his option on the property at some stage I have no doubt – but exactly when, I know not. It could be weeks or it could be months. In the meantime I expect that your husband is using the income from the property as some form of rent. I am so sorry about it, Mrs Miller. I would rather have bought the property myself. At least you could have lived in it without fear. But I have invested very heavily in the land reclamation in Weymouth. I cannot get at my money for a long while, and even then it would be more than I could afford.’

  Kathryn looked into Andrew’s eyes. He still held her hand in his.

  ‘Thank you for telling me, Mr Berkeley. I can well imagine that you make a reluctant messenger. I shall have to ask him about it. I shall do so when the time is right. I suppose that I shall have to find some way of supporting us all. If we take a small apartment in town I may be able to earn some more – I may be able to build up my sewing work from home. If I work every day I may be able to earn just enough for us all to live upon.’

  Andrew looked at her incredulously.

  ‘You are not seriously contemplating supporting him from what you can earn?’ he said.

  Kathryn looked back at him blankly.

  ‘But of course I am. What else would you expect me to do?’

  ‘But he will only gamble it all away. You know he will. He’s a bad lot, Kathryn – a lost cause, and you will only be sending good money after bad. I try to limit the stakes we play for and I try to ensure that he wins something every so often but he’s such a hopeless, useless card player that he still manages to lose more than ever he wins.’

  ‘So that’s even more reason for me to take care of things. Surely you can see that I must?’

  ‘But Kathryn – think about it for a moment – why should all the burden fall upon you? It is not right. Why should you have to support him all the time? It should be the other way round. It is Giles who should be supporting you. You have already given him everything you own. What more can he possibly expect? You have given him everything and still you give him more. God, Kathryn, how I wish...if only you were mine...how different things would be for you. How respected – how appreciated – how cherished. And little Bob – what a blessing he has in that child – such a little ray of sunshine in a horrible bleak world. He has everything a man could desire – everything that I myself would most value on this earth - and yet he...he...I do not know how to express the utter hatred and contempt in which I hold him. He has perfection here at home and all he does is abuse it.’

  Kathryn listened to him in great distress.

  ‘Andrew – please,’ she said. ‘Please don’t talk in such a way. He is my husband. I cannot allow you to say such things about him.’

  ‘But surely, Kathryn, surely he has forfeited any right he had to be known by that name? Think about it. He has neglected you, abused you, robbed you, beaten you. He has taken your dear aunt from you. He has sold your house and land. He has taken your happiness away. Why, he even tried to sell you – to sell you to the highest bidder for the night. How could he do that? How could it even enter his miserable, callous head to do such a thing? To auction his own wife? The wife who is as perfect a woman as ever set foot on this earth? Kathy, Kathy, what more does he have to do to you to make you walk away? What more does he have to do to you to make you come to me?’

  Kathryn tore her hand away from his and covered her face with her hands.

  ‘Come and live with me, Kathy,’ he urged her again. ‘I would give you so much love you would drown in it. Leave him. Leave that monster of a man. Let him go the devil – it’s as much as he deserves. We will go away – I shall sell Belvoir and buy somewhere else – somewhere we are not known – in The Netherlands maybe, or wherever you choose – I care not, as long as it’s with you. Bob should have a proper father. We should all have so much fun. My, how that little boy would blossom – how much joy he would bring to us, how much happiness. Please, please leave that man and come and live with me. Nobody need know that we are not married. We shall be husband and wife just as much as if we had solemnly vowed to be so in the church – you have my promise, Kathy. I would never, ever abandon you.’

  ‘Please, Andrew. Please. You are tearing me half apart. Listen to yourself. Just listen to what you are saying to me. You say that no-one would know. No-one would know that we are not married. But you would know, Andrew. You would know, and I would know, and God would kno
w. Our sins would come back to haunt us, I know it, and God would rightly punish us for them. Please believe me when I say that I want to be with you above everything. I have fought against my feelings for you in vain. I have tried desperately to school my mind, to think of you just as my friend. It has made no difference. Not one iota of difference. You fill my thoughts from dawn until dusk - every minute of every day – and you have done so since the very day that I found you on the beach. I am desperate to give you my love. My whole being aches to do so. But it cannot be. It must not be. It is wrong. I can never leave my husband. I cannot even think of it.’

  ‘So you are fully decided. You will remain with this monster to have your whole life sucked out of you, bit by bit?’

  ‘But it is not my decision to make,’ she wept. ‘You talk as if there were some choice in the matter. But there is no choice in the matter at all. He is my husband, Andrew, my husband. I married him in church. I made the most binding promises to him – the most binding promises a woman can ever make to a man – and I made those promises in front of God. I made my vows in front of God. I promised God that I should be faithful to my husband. That I would honour him, obey him. That all my goods were his goods. That I would stay with him, for better or for worse, for as long as we both should live. I did not say that I should stay with him only for as long as I wished to. I did not say that if life got hard or I met someone I loved better, I would leave him. There were no ifs and buts in my promise to him. You must know that. And if it suits God to test out my promise – to see how much I really meant by it – then that is his prerogative. It is not for me to question him. I must submit to his will. I am only here by his grace, after all.’

  Andrew was silent for a moment.

  ‘Do you love your husband, Kathy?’

  ‘I...I...’ Kathryn could not lie to him but she was not prepared to say the words that he so desperately wanted to hear. ‘I thought I loved him. I married him for love.’

  ‘That is not what I asked you. I asked you, do you love the man now?’