Miss Mary’s Daughter

by Diney Costeloe

  ‘Know Nicholas Bryan, does she?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Know Nicholas Bryan?’ The man gave her a toothy grin. ‘Fought you’d know that name.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Hannah tried to sound firm, but her face had already registered her shock at the mention of Nicholas Bryan’s name.

  ‘She needs to know about ’im,’ said the man. ‘I got somefink to show ’er.’

  ‘What have you got?’ demanded Hannah. ‘Show me.’

  ‘You gonna let me in?’

  Hannah looked up and down the street. There was no one else in sight. The man seemed to be on his own.

  ‘I ain’t come stealing or nuffink,’ he said as he read her mind. ‘I just got somefink your lady did ought to see, but I ain’t going to show you standin’ on the doorstep.’

  Reluctantly Hannah stood aside. She was decidedly nervous about letting the disreputable man inside, but if he had anything to do with Nicholas she wanted to be the one he told, not Sophie. He followed her indoors and she took him straight to the kitchen.

  ‘Well,’ she said, standing, hands on hips, ‘who are you and what do you want?’

  ‘Luke,’ he replied. ‘I come from my sister, Dolly. Dolly Bryan.’

  ‘Dolly Bryan?’ echoed Hannah. ‘Who’s she when she’s at home?’

  ‘My sister, what’s married to Nicholas Bryan.’

  ‘Married to...’

  ‘To Nicholas Bryan.’ He pulled a paper from his pocket and thrust it at Hannah. When she reached to take it, he pulled back. ‘Oh no you don’t,’ he snapped. ‘You can look at it, but I keep hold of it.’ He held it up for Hannah to read.

  She stared at the names written there: Nicholas Bryan, Bachelor and Dolly Mangot, Spinster; the date, 6th January 1883; place, St John’s Church Waterloo.

  ‘So,’ she said, ‘what has this got to do with Miss Ross?’

  ‘Miss Ross, is it? We heard Nicholas wants to marry her.’ Luke folded the certificate and put it back into his pocket.

  ‘Really? Who’d’you hear that from then?’

  ‘From the horse’s mouth.’

  ‘Well,’ Hannah said, ‘I don’t know which horse you was talking to, but it ain’t got nothing to do with Miss Ross. Far as I know, she ain’t marrying anybody. You want to leave that certificate with me, just in case I’m wrong?’

  Luke edged towards the door. ‘No,’ he said, ‘but I’ll be back. I come round before, but you was all away. Want to talk to the organ-grinder, not the monkey.’ He paused when he reached the front door. ‘He’s offered good money for this certifticate, he has. Me and Dolly thought it might be worth a bit more to your lady, seeing as she’s worth a bit.’

  Hannah reached past him, opened the door and gave him a push. ‘Out!’ she shouted. ‘Out, before I call the police and you gets taken up for blackmail.’

  ‘All right,’ Luke said with a shrug, ‘but you talk to your lady. If you change yer mind send a message down the Drummer Boy in Southwark.’

  As soon as she’d closed the door, Hannah went to the bureau and wrote down all she could remember from the certificate; names, date, place: St John’s Church. She put the paper under her pillow and then, putting on her hat and coat, set off to the telegraph office.

  37

  The telegram reached Charles that same evening. Thinking it must be from Jeremiah Hawke, he told the boy to wait in case there was a reply, and he took it into his study to open. Pulling it from the envelope, he stared in amazement at the message it brought: Sir, come at once STOP Sophie needs you STOP Hannah.

  What could have happened that Hannah felt the need to summon him by telegram? He quickly wrote a reply: On my way STOP Arrive Paddington Friday STOP Leroy.

  ‘A telegram from Hannah!’ Louisa had been incredulous. ‘What is Sophie’s maid doing sending you telegrams?’

  ‘She’s told me to come at once,’ replied Charles.

  ‘She’s told you to come?’ Louisa looked outraged. ‘And you’re jumping to her bidding?’

  ‘She says Sophie needs me,’ Charles said simply. ‘And if she needs me, I shall go.’

  ‘Sophie’s chosen her own path,’ snapped his mother. ‘She’s not your responsibility. Has Hannah sent Dr Bryan a telegram as well?’

  That’s an interesting question, thought Charles. If not, why not? And why has Hannah telegraphed me?

  ‘I’ve no idea, Mama,’ was all he said. ‘But I do still have some responsibility for Sophie’s welfare, so I shall go.’

  Before he left in the morning a second telegram arrived: Meet Paddington STOP No reply please.

  He was at Truro Station for the first train to London, and when he arrived at Paddington he found Hannah waiting on the platform.

  ‘Hannah, what is all this about?’ he cried. ‘What’s happened to Sophie?’

  ‘Nothing yet, sir,’ she replied, ‘but there is news that I needed to tell you face to face,’ adding, ‘before you see Miss Sophie and without her knowing.’

  Intrigued, Charles led her to the station restaurant and sat her down with a cup of tea and a piece of fruit cake. ‘Now then,’ he said, ‘you’d better tell me what all this is about.’

  So Hannah told him about the visit from Luke Mangot with the certificate recording the marriage of one Nicholas Bryan with Dolly Mangot.

  ‘I sent him packing, but he said he’d be back to talk to Miss Sophie herself. He’s asking for money.’

  ‘But you saw the certificate?’

  ‘Yes, sir, and I’ve written down all I can remember from it.’ Hannah pulled out her piece of paper and handed it to Charles. ‘Of course,’ she said as he looked at it, ‘we can’t be sure it’s the same Nicholas Bryan.’

  ‘Oh, I think we can, Hannah,’ Charles said. ‘Tell me again exactly what this Luke Mangot said.’

  ‘He said that Nicholas had told them he would pay this Dolly for her marriage certificate, and then they would no longer be married.’

  ‘And she believed him, do you think?’

  Hannah shrugged. ‘I don’t know, sir. Maybe all she wanted was the money.’

  ‘And her brother came to show you the certificate, wanting to sell it to you for more than Nicholas was paying.’

  ‘Well, not to me, sir. He wanted to see Miss Sophie. Only I didn’t want him to be the one to tell her that Dr Bryan’s already married... if it’s true, that is.’

  ‘You were quite right to send for me,’ Charles said. ‘Have you any idea where I can find this Luke Mangot fellow?’

  Hannah shook her head miserably. ‘No, sir, not unless, well, he did say something about sending a message to a public house in Southwark, the Drummer Boy, if we changed our minds.’

  ‘When did he come?’

  ‘Thursday morning, sir.’

  ‘And he hasn’t been back since?’

  ‘No, sir. Though he threatened to. I’ve stayed home all the time till I come to meet you.’

  ‘Where does Sophie think you are now?’

  ‘I’m on my afternoon off, sir.’

  ‘Good. Well, the first thing we have to do is find a telegraph office, and then I’ll go straight to the house in Hammersmith. And if this Luke Mangot shows his face again I’ll deal with him. You come home in an hour or so and you’ll be surprised to see me at the house.’

  They parted company and Charles immediately sent a telegram to Mr Staunton, alerting him to developments and telling him to set Jeremiah Hawke on the new trail: Dolly Mangot, St John’s Church, Waterloo, and the Drummer Boy, Southwark. With that all done he took a hansom to Hammersmith, deciding to tell Sophie that he’d come to town for a business meeting with Herbert Hawthorne, the other part-owner of The Minerva.

  The cab dropped him outside the house and Sophie saw him from the window. She ran to the front door and threw it open, greeting him with a wide and welcoming smile.

  ‘Charles!’ she exclaimed. ‘What are you doing in London? How lovely. Come in, come in, and I’ll put the ket
tle on. Hannah’s out for her free afternoon, but she’ll be back soon. You will stay for supper, won’t you, or do you have somewhere else to go?’

  ‘Nowhere this evening,’ Charles said, taking off his hat and coat. ‘Tomorrow I have to meet with Mr Hawthorne, the other owner of The Minerva, to discuss our plan for buying another ship. I’m hoping he may want to invest with us again.’

  When Sophie had made tea, they sat together beside the parlour fire in companionable conversation.

  ‘Did you take AliceAnne to the farm last Saturday?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Charles. ‘I said I would, didn’t I?’

  ‘You did.’ Sophie smiled. ‘And you’re a man of your word. I’m sure she was pleased.’

  ‘She certainly seemed so,’ answered Charles, remembering AliceAnne’s delighted smile when he told her she could go, and that he would take her.

  ‘The other thing I should tell you, cousin, is that I have found a suitable house for us in Kenwyn, just outside Truro. My mother, AliceAnne and I will be moving there in the next month. It’s much smaller than Trescadinnick, of course, but that makes it a much easier place to run. Mama says we can easily manage with just the Paxtons to look after things.’

  ‘The Paxtons!’ Sophie hadn’t thought about what servants she would need at Trescadinnick; she had just assumed that they would all stay on.

  ‘When Mrs Paxton heard we were moving out, she asked if she and Paxton could move with us. She said they were getting too old to learn new ways, and of course my mother was delighted.’ He smiled across at Sophie’s stricken face. ‘I’m sure you’d rather choose your own servants, Sophie, though I expect Edith and Ned will want to stay. Oh—’ He paused and Sophie said, ‘What? Something about Ned?’

  ‘No,’ said Charles. ‘Well, yes and no. Ned brought some news home yesterday. Old Nan Slater over at Tremose has been found dead in her home.’ He saw the colour drain from Sophie’s face and said, ‘I’m sorry, Sophie. I’d forgotten you’d visited her just recently.’

  ‘How did she die?’ whispered Sophie.

  ‘They found her out by the woodshed. She must have been fetching firewood and fallen. I heard that she’d died of cold.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘No one’s quite sure,’ replied Charles. ‘They found her on Tuesday. She’ll be taken to the church today.’

  ‘Her son is away at sea,’ Sophie said. ‘He won’t even be at her graveside.’

  ‘The people of Tremose will be there, Sophie. She won’t go unattended to her grave.’

  The cheerful atmosphere in the little parlour vanished and Sophie shivered. ‘Poor Nan,’ she said, ‘dying alone in the cold.’

  Moments later the door opened and Hannah arrived home.

  *

  Nicholas had decided not to meet Sophie outside the church the previous Sunday. Let her find that he was not waiting, dancing attendance on her. And if people gossiped, well, that was her fault.

  Thus it was that he heard nothing of her absence until her letter arrived from London. When he realized where she was he was irritated. She should have told him she was going. Still, he thought, at least she seems to be preparing for the wedding. Sorting out the house and buying mourning clothes, she’d said, so the trustees must have given her some money when they met the previous Friday. He could have done with some of that. He still wanted to ensure that there was no tangible evidence of his marriage to Dolly five years ago.

  Sophie had said she wasn’t sure when she’d be home, but she would write again soon with all her plans. She suggested that he went to see the rector about having the banns read. That, however, did not help him with his money problems. He was glad Sophie had made no further mention of his father and his Penvarrow blood. He could only hope she’d decided to believe him. Once they were married he would find the letters she’d mentioned and burn them; then there’d be nothing to prove he was anything to do with the Penvarrows.

  That afternoon he sat down and wrote back to Sophie, telling her he missed her and couldn’t wait until they were man and wife. When he’d sealed the letter he found himself imagining their wedding night, the night he would take possession of her and do with her as he chose. Hot with excitement at the very thought, he needed a woman now, and so he took horse and rode into Truro. He knew just the place to go.

  *

  With Hannah acting as chaperone, Charles was persuaded to stay at the house in Hammersmith. Hannah prepared Mary’s room for him, and they spent a quiet evening before the parlour fire.

  The postman arrived soon after breakfast next morning and Charles was pleased to see he had a letter from Mr Staunton. He took it upstairs to his room to read it in private.

  It was a long message from Mr Staunton, telling him that Jeremiah Hawke was on his way back to London.

  When we received your telegram Hawke took the afternoon train to London. He plans to visit St John’s Church Waterloo to look at the marriage records for January 1883, and then to go and find Luke Mangot at the Drummer Boy in Southwark. He suggests you should meet him there at midday on Saturday.

  Hawke had moved fast and Charles was determined to keep the appointment in Southwark; far better to meet Luke Mangot away from the Hammersmith house. Until they knew exactly what he was after, Charles didn’t want him anywhere near Sophie.

  ‘It’s as I thought,’ he told her when he returned downstairs. ‘I have to meet Minerva’s other owner at midday.’

  ‘Can I come too?’ asked Sophie. ‘I’m interested in our ship.’

  Charles shook his head apologetically. ‘Not this time, Sophie,’ he said. ‘This is very much an exploratory meeting. Mr Hawthorne is an elderly man and would be uncomfortable doing business with a woman. I have to talk to him alone, but I promise you I’ll tell you everything that was said, when I get back.’

  Sophie looked disappointed, but she was sensible enough to know that what Charles said was right, and she didn’t want to put the other man against the deal because there was a woman involved. ‘Come back this afternoon, and tell me what he said.’

  Charles took a hansom to Southwark and as he crossed the Thames he looked out at the narrow streets snaking their way from the main thoroughfare. The cabby drew up at the kerb and Charles, looking out and expecting to see the public house, found he was facing Waterloo Station.

  ‘Sorry, guvnor,’ the man said. ‘It’s in an alley off of Cons Street. I don’t take my cab into them streets. You’ll have to get out here.’

  Charles got down and paid his fare. ‘Round the back of the station,’ said the cabby, ‘an’ keep yer wits about yer if yer really going to the Drummer.’

  After several false starts Charles finally found the tavern, seeing its grubby sign hanging out into the alley. He was just walking towards the door when he heard a call behind him and spinning round saw Jeremiah turning into the narrow lane.

  ‘You got the message then,’ the big man said.

  ‘Yes. How did you get on this morning?’

  ‘I’ll tell you about that, soon enough. Better get inside here before some likely lad thinks we’re ripe for plucking.’ As they reached the door, Jeremiah Hawke paused and said, ‘Leave the talking to me.’

  When they entered the pub Charles wasn’t at all certain that they were any safer than they had been in the street, and he was glad to have the reassuring bulk of Jeremiah at his side. The bar was dark and smoky, furnished with scarred wooden tables standing on a sawdusted floor. Heads turned as they entered but Jeremiah, ignoring all the other customers, walked up to the bar counter and ordered two pints of ale from the drudge standing behind it.

  A large man, the landlord, moved up beside her as she drew their beer and said, ‘Haven’t seen you gents in ’ere before, ’ave I?’

  ‘No,’ replied Jeremiah easily. ‘Come to meet someone.’

  ‘Who’s that then?’

  ‘Luke Mangot. Got some business with him. In here, is he?’

  ‘Wouldn’t know,’ replied the la
ndlord.

  Jeremiah took out a half-sovereign, laying it on the counter but keeping his hand over it. ‘Help you to look?’

  The man’s eyes glinted at the sight of the coin, and he cast a glance round the room, before giving the slightest nod towards a young man seated at a table in the corner, a half-empty glass in front of him.

  ‘Refill for him then,’ Jeremiah said, and waited for it to be pulled before leading the way over to where the young man was sitting.

  He looked up as Jeremiah and Charles approached. He was older than Charles had first thought, probably about twenty-five, thin-faced, with straw-coloured hair and close-set faded grey eyes. Jeremiah set the refill down in front of him and hoiking a stool from under the table with his foot, said, ‘Luke Mangot?’

  The man didn’t touch the glass but stared up at him. ‘Who wants to know?’

  ‘My friend and I just wanted a word with you.’ Jeremiah sat down on the stool, placing his own glass on the table, but Charles remained standing, effectively blocking the way to the door.

  ‘Oh yeah? ’Bout what?’

  ‘About a visit you paid to a lady what lives in Hammersmith.’

  Luke’s eyes narrowed, but he said, ‘Dunno what you’re talkin’ about. I dunno any ladies in ’Ammersmif.’

  ‘Then I’ve made a mistake,’ Jeremiah said. ‘It must’ve been someone else what called, wanting to do some business. I’ll bid you good day.’ And downing his pint in one long swallow, he got to his feet.

  ‘Just a minute,’ cried Luke. ‘Maybe I do remember visiting someone in ’Ammersmif. But what’s it to you?’

  ‘More importantly, Mr Mangot,’ replied Jeremiah Hawke, ‘what’s it to you?’

  ‘I was just trying to ’elp the lady, but she weren’t there.’

  ‘Help her? In what way?’

  ‘Just wanted to tell her somefink. Somefink I fought she’d wanna know.’

  ‘And there was no thought of asking for money... or anything like that?’

  ‘Just a bit of business,’ Luke said. ‘That’s all. ’Ad sommat I thought might interest ’er.’