The Body on the Beach (The Weymouth Trilogy)

by Lizzie Church

  The doctor took a cursory look at Bob before covering him up again, and turned to Mrs Miller by the fire. He took a hand and slapped it gently. He felt her forehead. He listened to her chest.

  ‘She is suffering from shock, and from the cold, and she has some nasty bumps and bruises that will be quite painful, I should think,’ he pronounced, somewhat superfluously. ‘She requires warmth and rest. You need to get her into a warm bed and let her be quiet for a while. Tomorrow, if not before, ensure that she eats something – preferably something warm. And do not, whatever you do, do not leave her on her own. I will call again in a couple of days’ time to see how she does. Hopefully it will turn out that she is not in too much danger.’

  Although the doctor had said nothing that Tom, Sally and Andrew themselves could not have determined his visit did have the advantage of providing them with the confidence to follow their own instincts. Sally suggested that Andrew might like to put her to bed. Nodding, he lifted her carefully in his arms, took her up the stairs, lay her tenderly into the warm softness, and covered her up once again.

  Sally half expected him to come down straight away and go home but he arranged a cushion on the wooden chair next to the bed and sat there into the evening, holding her hand. At about nine o’clock he rang the bell.

  ‘Would you get the spare room ready for me, please Sally?’ He said. ‘And would Tom be so kind as to find my horse?’

  ‘Don’t worry about that, Mr B,’ she replied. ‘Mr Arthur found the horse and Tom’s put him away in the shed. The bedroom’ll be all ready for you, and when you’re ready to get yourself to bed just let me know and I’ll sit up with the missus for a while.’

  ‘Thank you, Sally,’ he said. ‘I’ll sit up with her for as long as I can, and if you can take over at about five or six I’ll get my own rest then.’

  Sally nodded and went away. She returned a few minutes later with a plate of bread and meat for Andrew, and then went to sort out the spare room for his use. Andrew sat with Kathryn all through the long night, holding her hand, nodding off occasionally and then rousing himself, looking down through the darkness at her face, stroking it softly every so often, and musing all the while about the twists and turns of fate and wondering just how much the poor woman would have to contend with before it was done with her.

  He was still there when Sally arose at five to relieve him. Kathryn had not stirred all night and looked almost peaceful as she lay there. Andrew went to his room, where Sally had left some hot water for him. He shaved and washed himself and then wandered out into the garden for a few minutes before returning to the house, stripping off, and getting into bed.

  He only slept for three or four hours and then was up again, knocking softly on Kathryn’s door before slipping gingerly inside. Sally relinquished the seat by her bed immediately and left them on their own. All day he sat with her, save for a very few minutes when he went to the kitchen for some dinner, and a very few minutes more when he took a turn about the garden and wandered down to the cottages to thank the tenants for their help, and back, before tea. He said nothing, and Kathryn did not stir.

  At about eleven o’clock Sally reappeared at the chamber door.

  ‘Shall I stay with her tonight, Mr B?’ she asked him, looking at the peaceful form still lying snugly in the bed. ‘I can get you up if ever she awakens.’

  Andrew nodded.

  ‘If you wouldn’t mind, Sally,’ he said. ‘I’ll turn in now for a few hours. Get me up again as soon as you need a break. And be sure to knock me up immediately if anything should change.’

  He retired to his chamber and stripped himself ready for bed once again. It was not until he was actually getting between the sheets that he suddenly remembered that he had been engaged to take Sophie out for the day that day. He thought of it and then dismissed it straight away. What was Sophie after all? She was but a droplet to the ocean that was Kathryn, and he knew that she always would be. She would be mad as a witch about being ignored. And Andrew realised that he didn’t care one jot.

  He slept through until about a half after four and then dragged himself wearily out of bed. A weak greyness was just starting to make its presence known through a chink in the curtains but the rain was spattering depressingly on the window panes. There was no water in the room yet, as Sally was obviously still with her mistress, so he pulled on his breeches and made his way downstairs and out into the yard in order to wash himself under the pump instead. The coldness of the water on his chest and back was invigorating. He took a bucket and filled it up before taking it into the kitchen and stoking the fire. He put some of the water into the kettle and the rest into a three-legged cooking pot, which he laid upon the flames. Then he sat back in the chair for a moment. Bob’s body had gone from the table. He was relieved to find it gone. He had found the sight of it quite unbearable. The little boy had lit up his life. He wanted no reminder of his loss. Once the kettle had boiled he made a pot of tea and placed it on the tray that was kept on the dresser. He added three dishes and a piece of bread that he found in a jar, and took it warily up the stairs to Kathryn’s room. He knocked on the door with his foot and a bleary-eyed Sally appeared to open it.

  ‘Tea?’ he asked, and he brought the tray into the room.

  He deposited the tray on Kathryn’s dressing table and poured the rather evil-looking liquid into two of the dishes. It was apparent that he was not much used to making his own but it was warm and welcome enough, and totally unexpected. Sally watched him, a half smile on her face, and accepted her own dish gratefully. She loved him almost as much as she loved her mistress and, not for the first time, she silently prayed to God that some way might be found for Andrew and Kathryn to get themselves together. She was religious enough but she couldn’t see how it was God’s will to keep two such special people apart from one other. It was obvious to everyone who knew anything at all that they were kindred spirits. They had to be together. They were born to be together. She could not conceive of either of them being even tolerably happy without the other. Yes, she was religious enough and she knew the rules. But if she were to have her way she would pack them both off to the continent somewhere and let them pretend what was needed.

  ‘Do you think we should try to waken her?’ he was asking her, looking down at the still-sleeping Kathryn. ‘She has eaten nothing for ages now. It cannot be good for her to let her waste away.’

  Sally looked at her doubtfully. She was a little torn. Certainly she knew the value of rest and sleep in mending a troubled mind, but on the other hand the doctor had told them to ensure that the poor lady ate something and she couldn’t help but agree with Mr Berkeley that she should have to be awakened at some time.

  ‘I think she might be better with something a little more tempting than a piece of dry bread, though,’ she said, laughing a little as she saw what Andrew had brought her. ‘Let me get her an egg – there was a fresh one laid only yesterday – and I’ll bring it up before we waken her.’

  Andrew saw her look and shared her giggle.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, a little ruefully, ‘yes, you may be right. You will find some water heating on the fire. I thought you might like to wash her. It should make her a bit more comfortable, I think.’

  Sally bustled out and as she closed the door behind her Andrew heard a quiet murmur emanating from the bed. He was there in an instant. In the dim half light he could see her eyes flicker a little, and then open. He shifted over to sit by her on the bed and buried his head in the pillow next to hers. She turned a little and kissed the hair behind his ear.

  ‘Andrew,’ she said, and then she burst into tears.

  Although a little disconcerted, Andrew could only feel that this was a splendid sign. He had long heard of the therapeutic effects of tears. He was not one to depend on such a thing himself, of course, but he was hopeful that, by allowing her misery some expression at last, she would perhaps make a start on the difficult road back to normality again. He raised his head and returned her kiss,
gently, firstly on her forehead and then over her eyes and cheeks.

  ‘Yes, I am with you, my love,’ he murmured. ‘I am here. We will get through this together, don’t you fret.’

  She opened her eyes again and gave him a little smile. His heart leapt with an unexpected gladness. He gazed into her eyes and smiled back. When Sally returned, boiled egg in her hand, Kathryn was sitting up, shawl around her shoulders, hair tousled and cheeks red amongst the black and the blue, still not quite looking herself but looking a lot more a part of the living than of the dead.

  Andrew insisted on helping her to eat her breakfast and then retired briefly in order to enable Sally to give her a wash. He went down to the kitchen and found Tom there, having his breakfast in front of the fire. The servant shared it with the visitor and they sat in companionable silence for a moment, enjoying the brief respite from the trials of everyday life.

  After a few minutes Tom, rather hesitatingly, spoke.

  ‘Funeral’s today, Mr Berkeley,’ he muttered. ‘Thought you might like to go along.’

  Andrew nodded.

  ‘Thank you, Tom. Yes, I will go. Will you join me?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Thank you. When shall we go?’

  ‘It starts at twelve.’

  ‘Then call me down at a half after eleven. I will walk with you to the church.’

  ‘Should we tell the missus?’

  Andrew thought for a moment.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘No. I think not.’

  ‘So do I.’

  Andrew sat with Kathryn for the rest of the morning, as before. She had managed a good part of her breakfast and was looking more comfortable in a clean night dress, her hair nicely brushed. He had already asked Sally to relieve him at half eleven. He was dreading the moment but it came at last and, as Kathryn had drifted off to sleep once more, he quietly slipped out and met with Tom as he came out of the kitchen. They walked in silence together up the hill towards the church. The little coffin was already next to a newly dug hole in the churchyard, next to the now maturing grave of Bob’s father. Andrew couldn’t look at it as it was lowered into the ground. Neither could he look as Tom threw the first grains of soil onto it. They were the only mourners. The vicar thanked them for coming. He asked them how Mrs Miller did and offered to visit. Mr Berkeley thanked him. Maybe later, he thought. It might be best for Kathryn to know nothing about it just yet.

  The doctor was there once they returned to Sandsford House. He appeared satisfied that Kathryn’s progress was as it should be, but knowing of the reason for her distress in the first place he ventured to suggest that it would be quite some time before it would be safe to leave her entirely on her own.

  ‘I understand that she lives here with her husband and the two servants. It is a little isolated, is it not? It may be better, if it can be arranged, for her to be somewhere more in the centre of things – somewhere where there are more people about, in order to divert her a little. Are you aware of where the husband is?’

  Andrew shook his head. He neither knew, nor cared, where Giles had gone. He only wished him at the bottom of the sea.

  ‘Well, if it could be arranged to remove her from here a change of scenery would do her the world of good,’ were the doctor’s final remarks. ‘It will be quite safe to move her within another day or so. Let me know how she goes on and call me in again if there’s any material change.’

  With the doctor’s words Andrew’s mind was immediately made up. Kathryn should be removed as soon as possible to Belvoir House, with Mrs Wright to keep her company. Sophie would not be pleased, he had no doubt. Sophie would not be pleased but he didn’t give a damn.

  So the next morning, Kathryn’s progress appearing to be maintained, Andrew asked Sally to pack a few of her things and prepare her mistress for the journey into town. Andrew himself retrieved his horse from the stable, where he had been meticulously looked after by the careful Tom, saddled him up, and trotted off to fetch his travelling carriage, which he felt would accommodate her rather better than his curricle would do. He would pass Miss Brewer’s house on the way. He resolved quickly to explain the reason for his absence the other day – surely she would understand? - before sorting out his carriage in time to get Kathryn to Belvoir by the end of the afternoon.

  Andrew had truly expected Miss Brewer to understand. But Miss Brewer certainly did not understand. Spotting him as he dismounted and placed the horse in the care of one of the urchins who materialised, as if by magic, as soon as a rider appeared, she stormed down to open the front door and stood before it, arms akimbo, as he mounted the steps towards her.

  ‘So you have decided to call at long last,’ was her tender welcome as soon as he was before her. ‘I was quite beside myself, Berkeley. No-one had the first idea wherever you had gone.’

  She was wearing black for the Duke of Gloucester. It made her look severe.

  ‘I’m so sorry, my dear,’ Andrew bowed low over her hand. ‘I was called away to a dire emergency. It has taken me several days to extricate myself.’

  ‘Really?’ Sophie was obviously less than impressed. ‘And what, may I ask, was of such grave importance as to make you forget your commitments to myself and not even have the decency to let me know?’

  ‘It was Mrs Miller,’ he said, rather more bluntly than perhaps was politic. ‘Her son had just drowned. She was in shock. I had to go to help her.’

  Sophie stiffened a little.

  ‘And where was Mrs Miller’s husband, that you were called on to assist?’ she asked, stonily. ‘Surely she could have had no cause to call on you?’

  ‘Her husband has gone away for a little while. There was no-one else they could call upon.’

  ‘Well, I still cannot see why you had to leave everything at the drop of a hat and rush to her. I’m sure I feel sorry for the poor woman but I really cannot see that there was any reason at all to steal you from my side. After all, we had our engagement with my aunt and cousins all arranged. I knew not what to do. It was acutely embarrassing. How do you think I felt, having to admit that you had disappeared, I knew not where, and having to apologise for your absence like that?’

  Andrew tried manfully to put himself in his young fiancée’s position, but failed. Surely anyone – even a young, thoughtless girl such as Sophie – could see that a tragedy like the loss of a little son was a great deal more important than a family tea? He looked at her reproachfully. She noticed the look. It simply added fuel to her fire.

  ‘You don’t have a clue how I feel, do you, Berkeley?’ she spat at him. ‘You are supposed to be marrying me next month and most of my family have not even met you yet. I was desperate to show you off.’

  Andrew finally managed to make himself feel a little sorry for her. It must have been galling.

  ‘I’m so sorry, my dear. Please be assured that I would not have put you off unless it had been absolutely necessary. And now I am to put her up at Belvoir House for a while. The doctor has prescribed a change of scene. I will ask my sister to accompany her there. She will need looking after for several weeks to come. I will try to see you as often as I can, but for a week or so, at any rate, I would be loath to commit myself to any particular engagements. She appears to be recovering a little just now but the slightest thing could set her back again and I cannot just leave her entirely in my sister’s hands.’

  ‘Put her up? But why do you feel it necessary to put her up? She is nothing to you after all – not even a cousin or anything. Why on earth do you feel the need to offer her a home? Can she not rent a lodging, or an apartment, like anyone else would have to do? I cannot see why you have to get involved with her at all. And even if you did, surely the stupid woman can stay at Belvoir on her own, with Mrs Wright? There can be no necessity for you to be there. I cannot for the life of me think how the fact that Mrs Miller may be staying there may affect our plans at all.’

  ‘It is much to be regretted, I know. You must believe that I would rather have avoided it,’ (he
re Andrew was not being altogether untruthful. He would much rather Bob had not died, after all). ‘But you will remember that I owe my life to Mrs Miller. Without her assistance I would not now be here with you today. A little inconvenience on my part is a small price to pay when one considers the extent of her service to me.’

  ‘Well, I don’t see that at all. She only did what anyone would have done under the circumstances. And I signally fail to understand why she should have to inconvenience me as well. However, I see that you have quite made up your mind. My wishes are apparently quite subordinate to hers. A young lady of a less forgiving disposition than my own would have given you a roasting even for the thought of it. But you obviously disagree with me here and I can have no influence over it at all. I shall explain your conduct to my father. I’m sure that he will have something to say, after all.’

  This sounded like an opportunity to withdraw, and Andrew took it as quickly as he could. Promising only to send her a message when he was able, he retreated a little warily out of the doorway and reclaimed his horse. The urchin gave him a hand up. Andrew gave him a penny. It seemed a fair exchange. Then, with scarcely a backward glance, he pulled the rein to take the horse across the road, and trotted off as quickly as possible in the direction of Belvoir House.

  Chapter 20

  Kathryn stayed ten days at Belvoir House. For the first few, to be sure, she was scarcely aware that her surroundings had changed, that Andrew was with her almost constantly, reading to her for hours at a time – Fielding, Richardson, Edgeworth - holding her hand as she lay in bed, sharing in her pain. Mrs Wright had, of course, been only to pleased to oblige them and had moved into the room next to Kathryn’s – her old room – immediately on being asked. After this, however, Kathryn began to feel so much physically improved – her bruising fading to a somewhat unbecoming yellow and the cuts she had received whilst sitting on the rocks healing well – that she surprised a delighted Andrew one morning by finding her own way down to the breakfast room and making free with his cold roast hams and delicately buttered eggs.