by Erica Brown
Her first inclination was to laugh and run away, just like a child playing a game. Perhaps it was the warmth of his palms on her arms, or the fact that they were both panting, their breath mingling as they faced each other, but they lingered, laughing into each other’s faces, then pausing as if the very same thought had come to both of them at the very same time.
Loose and flowing, her hair rose on the wind and flicked over his eyes and lips, breaking the spell.
‘I didn’t want you to fall and hurt yourself,’ said Tom gruffly, as though he needed to make an excuse.
‘You cheated. You cut through the trees.’
‘I’d never catch you without cheating.’ He feigned great disappointment, but took the opportunity to drink in her warm complexion and the tumbling wildness of her hair that no hairpin or ribbon seemed capable of holding in place. ‘You run too fast.’
‘I know.’ She smiled at him almost wickedly, before running away, laughing wildly, and the children running behind her, leaping to catch the tail of the kite.
Mesmerized, he watched her. He’d never seen a woman move like she did. And yet she seemed unaware of her allure, either that or she didn’t care what effect she was having on him.
‘I’ll catch you again,’ he called after her.
‘You’ll have to run fast,’ she called back.
‘I will,’ he shouted.
Before she disappeared among the trees, he saw her smile and was almost certain she was daring him, perhaps even inviting him to try again.
Suddenly he became vaguely aware of a breathless panting at his side. Without bothering to look, he guessed it was Edith.
‘My,’ said Edith, struggling to catch her breath, ‘all this running around is too much for me. I’ll keep you company instead, shall I?’
He gave a mumbled response, his gaze still fixed on Blanche. He didn’t see the disappointment on Edith’s face.
Edith repeated what she’d already said more loudly.
He glanced down at her. ‘No need. I have to go.’
Judging by the look on her face, she didn’t believe him, but he felt no obligation to enlighten her.
‘Perhaps you would tender my apologies to Miss Bianca.’
Edith did not say whether she would or wouldn’t. It was then he noticed her sullen expression and regretted being so abrupt.
‘Miss Clements,’ he said, taking her hand, ‘reluctantly, I have to take my leave of you all. I trust you will forgive me.’
Edith giggled as he kissed her hand.
‘You promise you’ll render my most profound apologies?’
‘Oh yes!’ said Edith, her face as bright as a beetroot.
It wasn’t a lie, in fact. After Horatia had told him that one of the gardeners from the time of Jasper’s disappearance still lived in the village, he’d made arrangements to meet him there.
Without looking back, he made his way through the twilight to the village and St Mary’s churchyard.
Josh Carter had been one of twenty-eight gardeners employed in those days. He was old, but still fit enough to keep the churchyard in reasonable order.
A few blades of grass had already sprouted on the unmarked grave of the boy found in the chimney. It had been a lucky coincidence that this particular spot was not too distant from the mausoleum of the Strong family, a marble edifice, flanked by Corinthian columns and roofed in green copper tiles.
Something scurried off into the stunted foliage beneath the hedge surrounding the graveyard. A rabbit, thought Tom, or a fox.
He stood there, hands in the pockets of his leather jerkin, staring at the gold lettering on the front of the building above the pillared portico: ‘Comes the blind Fury with th’ abhorred shears, And slits the thin-spun life, but not the praise.’
Milton, if he remembered rightly.
The building shouted wealth and status, the words regret, if not outright indignation, that death dared curtail members of such a powerful and wealthy family. Their names were emblazoned beneath the frieze and between the pillars. Miriam Strong and three of her daughters – Patience, Piety and Charity – had died of cholera and all in the same year. He’d been away at sea for the first time, serving as a cabin boy on a wool packet. He remembered Jeb’s desolation on his return, the emptiness of Littledean. Ruth and Rachel had married. Only Leah had remained and had been worried then about her father’s health. As it deteriorated, Emmanuel had insisted they move into Marstone Court, as Leah had married a missionary whose work was taking them to China.
So long ago, he thought, and promised himself that Jasper would eventually lie with his sisters.
He walked slowly around the stone structure, eyeing as he did more names on other panels around the outside walls. The name of Samson Strong stood out bold and shiny. His wife’s name, Amelia, was etched quite a bit further down. Their bodies weren’t there, of course, because they’d died at sea. The name dividing husband and wife was obliterated by mud, almost as if someone had applied it with a stonemason’s trowel or an artist’s palette knife. He was just about to bend down, pluck a bunch of grass and wipe the mud away, when the smell of black tobacco drifted to him on the air. A stooped figure walked slowly towards him, his long coat seeming to weight him closer to the ground and his wide-brimmed hat shielding his features.
‘Cap’n,’ said the man.
‘Josh.’
Neither man met the other’s eyes.
The old man sucked on his pipe in one corner of his mouth and blew the resulting smoke out of the other. ‘Chill night.’
‘Frost before dawn, I reckon,’ Tom responded and they both sniffed the air; the countryman and the mariner, both dependent on the weather for their livelihood.
The old man nodded. It was sixty years since first he turned the earth at Marstone Court, following in his father’s footsteps as head gardener. There was nothing much Josh didn’t know about the family.
They both stood silently, regarding the mausoleum.
‘Nice woman,’ said Josh with a jerk of his chin at Miriam Strong’s name.
‘And married to a good man.’
‘Yep!’
‘And lovely children.’
‘Lovely girls.’ Josh’s smile exposed teeth yellowed by time and tobacco. His two front ones seemed obscenely long and at variance to the others in his mouth. Tom was fascinated by them and had to force himself to concentrate on the question he wanted to ask. ‘Do you remember the time Jeb’s son went missing?’
Josh chewed on his pipe, but with his molars rather than the thin, long incisors. ‘Nearly twenty years ago. Long time. Lot of things growed since then… tomatoes, cabbages, potatoes, turnips…’
The list seemed to go on and on. Obviously, the garden had been the mainstay of the old man’s life.
Tom waited patiently and tried to keep his gaze fixed on the mausoleum. It was no use. Try as he might, his gaze kept drifting back to Josh’s face, especially his teeth.
‘It was someone’s birthday party,’ Josh was saying. ‘Everyone was there. It was a dry day, first for weeks. Ground was too wet for peas that year. River was in full flood.’ He shook his head sagely. ‘The boy should never have gone near that river.’
He didn’t, thought Tom. ‘Was everyone invited to the party?’ Josh nodded. ‘Even the house servants.’
Tom frowned. It wasn’t usual for servants to attend a family party. ‘Why was everyone summoned to be there?’
‘Because of the ship.’
Tom was even more confused. ‘You mean the Miriam Strong?’
Josh shrugged. ‘It was a painting of a boat. The master had had it done in London. Beautiful painting, it was. And we all had to look at it, and he spouted on about it for a while…’
Josh chuckled and shook his head as if being proud of a painting was as nothing to being proud of an onion bed or a cabbage patch. ‘It was on display. S’pose it’s in the ’ouse now.’
Tom went on a mental tour of Marstone Court. There were a number of paint
ings of ships on the walls of Marstone Court. One above all others came to mind. It was a painting of a Strong vessel, splashes of colour and light giving the ship a ghostly appearance as though both it and the landscape were melting into the sunset.
Josh chewed on his pipe and his eyelids creased into wrinkled lines. ‘Red sky mornin’ after the boy drowned. I knew it would be as bad a day as the one before when I saw that.’
Tom frowned. ‘Something else happened the following day?’
Josh jerked his chin in affirmation. ‘Master caught a poacher. Cheeky blighter he was too. Kept his stash down in the cellar so we found out later. Him and one of the farmer’s lads were in it together. Poacher killed the deer, farmer’s lad brought sides of pork and beef up from the farm, and took back a deer.’
Tom’s mind worked quickly. Was there a connection?
‘Can I speak to him?’ Tom asked.
‘Oh, no, no, no,’ laughed Josh. ‘Poacher made the mistake of runnin’ and the master filled ’im with holes.’
‘He shot him?’
‘Stone dead.’ Josh spat into the grass.
Tom thanked Josh for his help, and would have left immediately, but a bat flew down from the church belfry, swooping low over their heads. Both men ducked and something fell from Josh’s mouth and into the grass. Josh went down on to his knees to search for it, his pipe jiggling at the side of his mouth.
‘Lost me teeth,’ he said.
‘I’ll help you,’ said Tom.
‘No need to.’ There was a cracking sound as Josh straightened and triumphantly brandished the offending items.
Tom could say nothing, but watched as Josh wiped his two front teeth on his coat then pushed them back into the gap in his gums.
Josh saw him looking and grinned. ‘Had a pig slaughtered a while back. He didn’t need them and I did.’
Keeping a straight face, Tom thanked him again, and was just about to go when Josh suddenly said, ‘Farmer’s lad that was in on it is still alive though. Got sent to Australia, though I heard he’d come back.’
‘What was his name?’
The old man’s brow wrinkled with the effort of thinking. ‘Funny name. Had relatives down in the city somewheres.’ Josh tapped his pipe against his protruding teeth. ‘Farmer… Fenner… Fenton… something like… I know!’ he exclaimed suddenly, his upper teeth dropping on to his lower lip. ‘Fenwick! A chap called Fenwick.’
* * *
Despite protests from Mrs Grainger, kite-flying after tea and before supper became a frequent event. Tom had intervened, a fact that was obvious seeing as he appeared as if by magic the moment they were out in the park.
He ran with the children, laughed with them and, when it was wet or too cold to go out, they would settle around the nursery fire and he would tell them stories of the sea, of the places he’d been, the things he’d seen.
Blanche and Edith were as enthralled as the children, their faces warmed as much by the vividly told tales as by the flickering flames.
‘… And then the giant sea monster slid slowly beneath the waves, its giant tail lashing the air as though it were waving goodbye.’
As the story ended, Tom dotted the noses of each listener, including Edith, and finally Blanche.
‘And there you have it,’ he said, gazing boldly into her eyes. ‘The tale ends with a tail.’
It didn’t occur to her that she was gazing back at him with the same intensity, until she became aware of the silence and four upturned faces with bemused expressions, plus another that looked a little put out.
He made excuses to leave after that.
Later, after the children were in bed and everything cleared away, Edith made herself and Blanche weak tea and they pulled up chairs to the nursery fire. The nursery was warmer than their own rooms as the children were allowed more coal and candles.
Blanche hardly noticed Edith’s constant prattling as she sipped her tea and stared into the flames. What was it about Tom that unnerved her?
‘I make a good fire,’ Edith was saying proudly. ‘That’s what comes of being the eldest of eight and with a sick mother, though after having eight babes and a few miscarriages, what can you expect? We used to wrap them up in straw and throw them on the fire; that’s why it needed to be good, you see.’ She laughed suddenly as she realized what she’d said. ‘I mean that we threw the miscarriages on the fire, not the born alive babes! Have you got any brothers and sisters?’
She told her she hadn’t any and grinned to herself. Edith had boasted earlier of having thirteen brothers and sisters, now it was eight.
Edith’s next question took her by surprise. ‘You ain’t got no plans on Captain Strong, have you?’
‘Plans?’
‘You wouldn’t be sweet on him, would you?’
Blanche looked down into her tea. She’d had no intention of telling anyone about Nelson, but confiding in someone might help her. Hopefully it would also take her mind off Tom.
‘I didn’t come here to see Captain Strong. I came to see Nelson.’
Edith gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.
Blanche bit her bottom lip as she thought things through. Should she tell Edith more? Besides Tom, she was the only true friend she’d found since arriving in England. She decided to take the risk.
As she told the tale, Edith’s eyes got wider and wider and her chin fell.
‘I haven’t seen him yet,’ Blanche said finally.
Edith’s expression remained shocked. It was a minute or so before she blinked it away and tried to say something positive. ‘I suppose you have to see him… I mean… he’d want to know, even if he is going to… marry his first cousin.’ Blanche was amazed.
The meagre light from the candle they’d lit flickered as the floor clock chimed the half past. It would be half an hour before the family sat down for dinner.
Blanche got to her feet. ‘I’m going to go down to the dining room and see him.’
Edith looked aghast. ‘You can’t do that!’
Blanche tidied her hair. It didn’t look as shiny as it normally did, but once the kettle on the fire had boiled, Edith would fetch more water and they’d both wash their hair as Edith had already proposed. It would be clean tomorrow. It would have to bide for today.
The prospect of trying to see Nelson was exciting, although, as Edith had pointed out, it could mean her being sent back to Barbados immediately. But she had to try.
‘I see no reason why I can’t.’
‘You’ll get the sack.’
‘Have you ever been into the dining room?’
‘Well, yes, but only first thing to lay the fires before anyone else is around. Servants have to be invisible, you see.’
Blanche gritted her teeth. Well, I am not invisible. I am a woman of flesh and blood.’ As Nelson knows well, she thought, and could almost feel his body lying against hers, just as they had on the beach in Barbados.
What will you do if anyone sees you?’ Edith sounded appalled.
Blanche shrugged. ‘I’ll tell them it’s such a big house, I lost my way. Have you ever got caught when you shouldn’t have been there?’
‘Oh yes.’ Edith took the teacups and put them on the tray with the other bits of crockery and cutlery from teatime. ‘I got up late, then the fire wouldn’t light properly. The sticks were damp, you see. The butler caught me.’
‘And what did he say.’
Edith grinned. ‘The family were coming into breakfast so I couldn’t shoot out past them. He got me to hide beneath the table. That’s when I learned about Mr Nelson refusing to marry his cousin.’
‘Are you sure?’ Blanche gasped with delight. The news was music to her ears, loud trumpets and beating drums rather than wistful violins.
Blanche sprang to her feet. ‘I have to see him.’ She swept to the door.
Edith wrung her plump, pink hands. ‘Blanche, you can’t!’
‘I can and I will.’ Suddenly she felt that what she’d really come here for was with
in her reach. Nelson had refused to marry his cousin, and although he may not have voiced his reason, she truly believed that she was it. Edith squealed with fright as Blanche grabbed her shoulders. ‘You have to show me where the dining room is.’
Edith shook her head, and her pink cheeks got pinker. ‘I can’t. I might get dismissed. I couldn’t afford that, Blanche, much as I’d like to help you, but there’s me poor old mother and me starving little brothers to think about!’
‘I don’t believe you’ve got a mother.’
‘Yes, I have!’
‘And a lover too?’
Edith’s face went bright pink. ‘Well, no… I didn’t say I did.’
‘I have! And I want to see him. Tell me how to get there.’ Edith sighed. ‘I’m not going with you, mind.’
‘Do you really think I’d want you with us? Two’s company, Edith.’
Directed by Edith, Blanche made her way downstairs, the plain walls and thin matting giving way to plusher furnishings.
From the main landing that circled the marble pillared hall, she watched as a footman, possibly Duncan, raised a long taper to the myriad candles of a chandelier. According to Edith, there were two other footmen besides Duncan and David, but they weren’t paid so much because they weren’t as tall. It seemed odd to Blanche that people could be paid by the inch, but apparently it was so.
The smell of succulent food, possibly seven courses or more as was usual in this house, wafted up to her. A second footman, resplendent in blue livery edged with gold braid, glided soundlessly across the marble floor carrying a large soup tureen. Blanche flattened herself against the wall, peered round when she judged it safe, and saw him disappear down a passage.
Once he’d gone, she began the final descent to the marble hall and the passage the footman had taken which was sure to lead to the dining room. When the coast seemed clear, she gathered her skirts and went down into the hall. Just as she was about to turn to her left, a door to her right opened and a woman with high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes strode confidently towards her.
