by Valerie Wood
‘Yes, he’s an opportunist, is Cousin Thomas. He also bought a few acres over at Hornsea, and if the railway line comes as they say it will, it will double in value.’ He nodded. ‘If anyone was looking for a suitable husband for one of their daughters, Tom would be a good candidate.’
‘But?’ Ellen queried. ‘He’s a miller’s son. Do you want more for your daughter?’
He looked bewildered for a moment at her question and then hurt. ‘I have never been pretentious, Ellen, you surely know that. I only want my children’s well-being. Besides,’ he gazed thoughtfully into space, ‘I was taught never to forget my beginnings. My mother was the daughter of a common seaman. She never forgot it, she was proud of it almost, even though she became mistress of this great house.’
‘I know,’ she said gently. ‘I was only asking. But the difficulties I was speaking of are Tom’s. You see, he has more pride than you.’
‘I don’t understand what you mean, Ellen,’ he replied a trifle irritably. ‘Why do you have to speak in riddles? Pride! What has pride got to do with anything?’
‘It has to do with Tom! He won’t ask for her, I’m convinced of that. No matter that he loves her.’
‘Why not?’ he demanded. ‘Doesn’t she care for him?’
‘I don’t think she knows yet.’ She smiled wistfully. ‘But he won’t ask for her. He’s such a gentleman, is Tom – only he doesn’t know it.’
‘For heaven’s sake, Ellen! What are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about you being a landowner, William.’ She shook her head at her husband’s obtuseness. ‘Whilst Tom knows he is only a miller’s son.’
Sammi looked up from the sands and saw Tom on the cliff top silhouetted against the red and gold of the sunset. She knew instantly that it was him, even though she couldn’t see his face. She knew his tall figure, his head of thick dark hair, his unmistakable long-legged stride.
How well I know him, she thought as she waved to him. He has always been there whenever I needed to talk to someone. He must have known that I need someone now.
He slithered down the cliff face, his boots making score marks in the oozing boulder clay as he jumped over the broken hummocks and ridges where there had been another fall.
‘Tom,’ she chastised him. ‘I remember you telling me never to do that! You once told me that I must always use the steps.’
‘Do as I say,’ he laughed, rubbing the mud from his hands, ‘not as I do! And that must have been a long time ago, for I can’t remember.’
‘I was about ten, I think, and I fell half-way down. You scrambled down and rescued me.’ She laughed at the recollection. ‘I was covered in mud and I lost my shoes.’
‘Yes! That’s right, I do remember. You were such a harum-scarum child. Always into mischief. Trouble always seemed to find you.’ He smiled down at her, his eyes gentle.
‘It still does. But sometimes it’s my own fault.’ She looked up and was about to say more, but couldn’t understand his expression and changed her mind. ‘Is something wrong, Tom? Why are you not at the mill?’
‘The first thing is that I have come to fetch you home for an early supper – orders from your mama.’
Oh, she thought, so you didn’t come especially to see me, just when I wanted to talk to you.
‘And secondly, I wanted to tell you that I am going into Hull to try and find Betsy, and to ask where you think I should start looking?’
‘You could start with Billy and Gilbert.’ They linked arms as they retraced their steps, and she thought of the extra problems that Gilbert now had over the bank’s closure, and of her own angry pronouncement that one day he would pay for his misdemeanour. Should I tell Tom about Gilbert and Adam? Perhaps not; he would be so angry; he would think him dishonourable.
The waves lapped close to their feet, leaving a frothy lacy edge on the sand and a damp edge to Sammi’s skirt. ‘Would you like me to come with you?’ she asked. ‘Would I be able to help?’
‘No. I don’t think so.’
She bent and picked up a pebble and hurled it into the sea; the dog leapt in after it, barking joyfully.
‘Ooh! Why the temper?’ he asked quietly.
‘It wasn’t temper!’
He stopped. ‘I think it was. What’s wrong, Sammi?’
‘I only wanted to help; to come with you and look for Betsy. But I am only a woman and of course I’m not allowed!’ She hung her head and scuffed the sand with her shoe. ‘And I’m very mixed up about Adam. Aunt Mildred says she will take responsibility for him after all.’
I don’t understand her motives, she thought. James has denied to me that Adam is his, and Gilbert hasn’t yet plucked up the courage to tell her that he is the father. There is something very strange happening.
Tom frowned. ‘Why has she changed her mind?’
‘I don’t know!’ Sammi cried fractiously. ‘No-one wanted him when I brought him here, everyone was prepared to let him go to a charity home, or anywhere out of sight – except Mama,’ she added softly. ‘She wasn’t so cruel.’
‘It doesn’t seem to make sense,’ Tom admitted. ‘But you should be pleased that she has had a change of heart and is prepared to accept him.’
He looked away down the long sands which stretched towards the high cliffs of Dimlington and the slender fingertip of Spurn peninsula. ‘You are naturally curious about her reasons, but you have to think of your own future, Sammi. One day you will marry,’ he said, tight-lipped. ‘Your parents want what is best for you, and the longer the child stays here, the more gossip there will be.’ He turned to look at her and found that she was gazing stonily out to sea. He put his hand under her chin. ‘Look at me.’ She lifted her head and gazed at him; her brown eyes were moist and he wanted to kiss away her tears. ‘The child has red hair! He could be yours.’
She couldn’t tell him the truth about Gilbert, but said passionately, ‘I only want what is best for Adam. How I hate gossipmongers – mischief makers. And – and why should my virtue be so important in the general scheme of things?’ A flush touched her cheeks as she spoke, but she continued to gaze defiantly at him. ‘When I was a child I was brought up to be independent, to think for myself.’ Her voice dropped and there was a note of resentfulness. ‘But now that I am a woman, I must change my disposition and only do what is expected of me, because of what others might think!’
‘There have to be rules, Sammi,’ he said gently. ‘Society falls apart without them.’
‘Don’t tell me that you believe in this – this social disease of narrow-mindedness, Tom? I can’t believe that of you!’
‘No. I don’t. I believe that we must do what we think is right at the time, as you did over Adam.’ He hesitated as he looked down at her fervent expression. ‘We must adhere to what we believe in, and we shouldn’t ignore our convictions of principles and scruples, even though—’ he touched her cheek with his fingers, ‘—even though it might bring us unhappiness in the long run.’
‘So, so we are agreed then, Tom?’ she whispered, suddenly confused. ‘There is no – no – dispute between us? We are of the same mind?’
He smiled and stooped to kiss her cheek. ‘There never was any dispute between us, Sammi. Whether we are of the same mind is another matter altogether.’
She put her hand up to her cheek and her shawl slipped from her shoulders. Tom rearranged it, lifting her hair from beneath it and quite illogically caressed the back of her neck with his fingers. He felt the smooth vulnerability of her neck, the downy softness of her hair, and instinctively kissed her gently on her lips.
He saw her air of bewilderment and quickly gathered himself together. ‘We only want what’s best for you, Sammi.’ He patted her face in a friendly, fraternal gesture. ‘That’s what we all want.’
42
‘Perhaps I won’t stay for supper, Aunt Ellen,’ Tom said lamely, when they returned. ‘I ought to get back.’
‘Oh, but a place is laid,’ she insisted. ‘George is with y
our father, isn’t he? And young Jenny? Do stay.’
Sammi sat opposite him at the table and listened vacantly as he exchanged conversation with her parents and Richard and Victoria. Why do I feel so strange? she thought. I want to weep, yet I am not so unhappy, only confused over so many things. She drew her hair away from the back of her neck and remembered the caress of Tom’s fingers, firm and strong, yet delicate in their touch. She watched him as he ate. She saw his expressive dark eyebrows as they rose and fell during conversation, the curve of his mouth as he spoke or laughed, and wondered why she hadn’t noticed these features before.
She touched her mouth with her serviette and thought of his tender kiss, and again a half-remembered image floated into her mind.
‘Sammi! You’re miles away,’ Richard teased. ‘What or who are you thinking of?’
A blush came to her cheeks, but she stressed that she had been thinking that perhaps she and her mother should travel into Hull the next day with her father and Tom, and call on Aunt Mildred. ‘And I also want to see Billy,’ she maintained. ‘I want to find out if he met Mr Pearson, and if he was willing to help with the project for the children in the cellars.’
Her father raised his eyebrows to the ceiling and emitted a deep sigh. ‘Yes. Very well, Sammi. If your mother wishes to, we will all go and resolve all the issues.’
The meeting with Mildred was cordial enough, though Sammi still found it hard to understand her treatment of James or Adam; but she seemed willing enough to finance the child, and had already made enquiries about the foster home in the town of Beverley.
‘They are honest people,’ Mildred said, ‘and kind, and lost their only son when he was young, and although they are perhaps older than we would have wished, they seem very suitable.’
I wonder what Gilbert thinks of the arrangement? Sammi felt aggrieved. He has got away scott free! ‘He cannot leave his nurse yet, you do realize that, Aunt Mildred?’ she said doggedly. ‘He is too young to be weaned.’
Mildred gave her a slight smile and nodded. ‘Yes, Sammi. I am aware of that. We are now in September; if we said just before Christmas? He could then be put onto a bottle and pobs.’
And we can give him away like a Christmas present, Sammi grieved. But I am his Godmother; his only one. I can visit him surely?
Mildred drew Ellen to one side as they were leaving. ‘I’m sorry, Ellen, about our harsh words over the child. I cannot ever explain why I behaved the way I did, but I had my reasons, and only Isaac understood. And now he has gone,’ she added in a whisper.
‘Everyone was hasty.’ Ellen leaned forward and kissed her cheek. ‘Including Sammi, but she is young and impetuous.’
‘As once we all were,’ Mildred said softly.
‘Does Gilbert know of your decision?’ Ellen ventured. ‘What are his feelings?’
Mildred shook her head. ‘He has so much to worry him just now, that I hardly ever see him, and I would not add to his burden; but I have written to James and told him of my decision.’
Sammi and her mother journeyed back to Hull in silence, Ellen debating whether she should tell Gilbert of his mother’s decision. He is in deep water I know, she pondered, but he must strike for the shore himself if he is to survive.
And Sammi thought broodingly of the Christmas to come and the departure of Adam whom she had come to love, and who was going to strangers.
‘There’s Billy!’
Ellen leaned towards the window and pulled it down. ‘Stop, Johnson!’
Johnson had already seen Billy striding along the road and was drawing to a halt.
‘Ma! Sammi! What are you doing here?’ He got into the carriage beside them and they moved off again towards the High Street. He gave his mother a hug and grinned at Sammi. ‘You shouldn’t be here yet, you know, the epidemic is still lingering.’
‘Epidemic? What epidemic?’ His mother’s face showed alarm.
‘Didn’t you hear? There’s been cholera and typhus. It was reported in some of the newspapers.’
They shook their heads. ‘Is that why you haven’t been home, Billy?’ Sammi asked. ‘I’ve wanted to know about the children.’
‘Why yes! I explained to Betsy that I was busy, and I told her that there was disease in the town. Didn’t she tell you? I asked her to.’
They both gazed at him, eyes opened wide. ‘When?’ Sammi asked. ‘When did you see her?’
‘Phew, so much has happened – I don’t know, about three weeks, maybe, nearly four. It was after the opening of the park anyway, and at the start of the epidemic.’
He was on his way to the company, he said. He had promised Gilbert that he would help in any way he could while there were so many difficulties. The closure of Willard’s bank had rocked the town, causing ripples of alarm throughout the business community. Gilbert had also told him that his father was coming into town and he needed to speak to him regarding the plan he had for his own future, and to ask if he would fund him until his inheritance was due.
Tom was standing in the door of the stables, chatting to Johnson. ‘I was hoping to see you, Billy.’ He came over to greet him. ‘Gilbert said you were coming in. Your father and Arthur are about to begin a meeting with Gilbert, so I decided to wait out here.’
Billy nodded. ‘I’ve just heard about Betsy. I saw her one day; it was during the epidemic and I advised her that she’d be better staying at home. She looked very well, Tom; I wouldn’t have thought that anything was amiss.’ He pulled a wry expression. ‘I wondered afterwards what she must have thought of me, for I’d been up all night and looked like a scarecrow, whereas she looked so lovely in her blue bonnet and cloak.’
‘Blue bonnet and cloak?’ Tom queried. ‘Surely you were mistaken? She was wearing a yellow dress and shawl when she left home that morning!’
‘She’s probably borrowed some finery. You know how ladies are; she would want a change of clothing if she’s staying with friends. Or else she’s bought something new. Don’t worry about her,’ Billy assured him, though he felt uneasy. ‘If she’s said she’s all right, then she will be.’
‘I hope so,’ Tom agreed, and went off again to look around the town.
‘Sammi, can you stay over? May she, Ma?’
His mother agreed and they decided to ask Harriet if she could stay the night with her and Gilbert, as she had promised previously.
Billy ran upstairs and knocked on the door of Gilbert’s office. ‘Just wanted to tell you that I’m here, and could I have a talk with you before you leave, Father?’
His father beckoned him in. ‘Gilbert says that you have resigned, Billy!’
‘Yes, that’s why I wanted to speak to you. I need your advice.’
‘Are you sure that you are doing the right thing?’ Arthur spoke up. ‘This company isn’t finished yet. We shall diversify, which is what I’ve been saying we should do all along! We should go into other forms of shipping, fleeting perhaps, or even some other commercial business, not just whaling.’
‘That isn’t why I resigned, Uncle. I had decided before all this business at the bank flared up,’ Billy said hastily. ‘Gilbert will confirm that, won’t you?’
Gilbert nodded. He had his chin hunched over his hand as he sat behind the desk. He looked tired and had lost weight. He had taken the blow very hard.
‘I want to go into local politics. I want to do something for the people of this town,’ Billy began.
‘Hmph. There’s no money in that,’ his uncle scowled. ‘None whatsoever. You’ll need something else to keep hearth and home secure.’
‘Can we leave Billy’s problems for the moment,’ his father broke in. ‘They have no place in this discussion. What is important is who is going to partner Gilbert if Billy leaves the company? Even with a smaller, more compact enterprise, Gilbert still needs a working partner. I don’t wish to do it and neither do you, Arthur, so if the company is to survive then we have to think of someone else. Someone who has initiative and knows the industry.’
&
nbsp; There was silence as they thought over the implications. Then Gilbert shook his head. ‘There is no-one else if Billy leaves, there’s only James and he isn’t interested.’
‘Does it have to be family?’ Billy asked. ‘For if it doesn’t, then I can think of the ideal person!’
‘Well, we’re looking for loyalty. That is the most important thing,’ said his father. ‘Would we get it from a stranger?’
‘Well, that’s just it; he isn’t a stranger,’ Billy said enthusiastically, ‘and his loyalty is unquestionable. Make him a director, give him some shares and the company is on the way up again.’
‘Why – do you mean who I think you mean?’ Gilbert rose to his feet, a gleam of hope in his face.
‘Yes.’ Billy beamed. ‘Hardwick!’
‘I want you to meet Stephen Sheppard, Sammi. We’ve become great friends.’ Billy took Sammi’s arm and they hurried across the busy Market Place towards a coffee house where he had arranged to meet Stephen. ‘And I also wanted to tell you the good news about the children’s project, though I must say it has paled significantly since hearing about Betsy not coming home. I don’t like the sound of that at all.’
‘She has written and apparently she is well and happy,’ Sammi took off her gloves as they sat down at a table in the window, ‘but it is very strange that she doesn’t say where she is staying. We’re all very worried.’
He ordered coffee and chocolate, and gave her the details of the cholera epidemic in the cellars. He told her that Zachariah Pearson was arranging for him to meet two businessmen in the town who might be willing to fund the project for a children’s home.
‘Billy,’ she began, ‘have you thought about where this could lead you? I have thought so often about what might have happened to Adam. Will there be room for abandoned babies in your children’s home? Will there be a place for young women like his mother, who might have been turned out of their homes in disgrace? Will one home be enough?’
