The Hungry Tide

by Valerie Wood

  ‘I’ll tell them, shall I, that you have seen the great parks and gardens, and the rich carriages and beautiful ladies, and that you still think that Monkston is the only place on God’s earth that you would want to be?’ He smiled quizzically at her and settled his restless mount as, puzzled, Sarah nodded her head.

  ‘Yes, please. Though I haven’t yet seen any of those places.’

  ‘You shall. It will be my pleasure to escort you and the young ladies this afternoon if nothing else has been decided. You shall see that London is beautiful, and though I can’t offer you the lashing of the waves of the German Ocean, I can show you the ancient Thames as a substitute.’ He bent down and touched the top of her bare head and wound a curl around his finger. ‘Now off you go inside, it will be considered unseemly for you to be wandering about the streets alone. This is not Monkston, Sarah, and you cannot expect to do the things here that you would do at home.’

  21

  There was a promenade of high fashion as ladies, colourful as summer flowers in dresses of soft draped silks cut shorter to show their ankles, paraded amongst others who favoured the classical Grecian style of transparent muslin with high necks and trailing skirts, who strolled with their friends in the afternoon sunshine.

  Sarah longed to get out of the carriage and walk through the vast grassy areas of Hyde Park and enjoy the autumn sunshine, or sit beneath the trees as so many other people were doing. But Lucy and her new friends were content to drive around slowly, watching the crowd; to see, and to be seen from the open carriage and to acknowledge gracefully, but with some covert giggling behind their fans, the young men riding by who tipped their hats towards them.

  ‘Look, look. Cassandra! There’s Mr Anderson. See him – on the stallion!’ Blanche pointed excitedly across the park to where a thin-faced man seated on a black stallion was talking to a group of people.

  Cassandra raised her eyebrows and closed her eyes in a supercilious gesture. ‘What care I?’ she said, but her cheeks turned pink and she fanned herself vigorously.

  Lucy questioned eagerly. ‘Do tell! Who is the gentleman?’

  Cassandra shrugged, but Blanche, her eyes alight with excitement, leant confidentially towards Lucy. ‘He’s been calling quite regularly since we arrived at Cousin Matilda’s. We rather think that he’s taken with Cassy!’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Blanche! He is simply a friend of Stephen’s!’ But a cool smile stole over Cassandra’s haughty face and she lowered her eyelids, whilst Lucy and Blanche giggled into their handkerchiefs.

  Sarah glanced at John, who raised his eyebrows at the girlish laughter and conversation and smiled, rather cynically, she thought, which was unusual for him, before calling to the driver to move on to the next part of their tour. As he did so, the rider on the stallion cantered across to them.

  ‘Hold on, Rayner! Where are you off to with a carriage full of pretty ladies? Don’t keep them all to yourself, there’s a good fellow.’ He looked down on them from the height of his glossy black mount, his gloved hands holding the reins firmly as it cavorted impatiently.

  ‘’Afternoon, Anderson.’ John’s voice was polite but impersonal. ‘I believe you have met Miss Cassandra and Miss Blanche Hamilton. May I present my cousin, Miss Lucy Masterson, and her companion, Miss Sarah Foster – Mr Bertram Anderson.’

  Bertram Anderson touched the brim of his bicorned hat at each introduction and his dark eyes lingered over each of them in turn. It seemed to Sarah that they rested longer on her, taking in her hair, lips and bosom, and she felt vaguely uneasy under his scrutiny.

  ‘Shall we have the pleasure of your company tomorrow evening, Mr Anderson?’ Cassandra, wishing to attract his attention, grew bold. ‘Miss Pardoe is giving a concert. It promises to be quite splendid.’

  ‘Indeed, yes, I shall be there.’ Anderson smiled, showing gleaming white teeth beneath a thin black moustache. ‘In fact, nothing would keep me away now that I know there will be such delightful company, as well as excellent music and the Pardoes’ famous hospitality!’

  He raised his whip. ‘Until tomorrow, ladies.’ He nodded to John, dug his heels into the horse’s flanks and cantered off down the park, sending up a cloud of dry dust and scattering flocks of pigeons.

  Lucy squealed and bit her handkerchief. ‘Oh, what a rake he is, did you see the way his eyes flashed? Cassy – what a catch he must be!’

  ‘Lucy!’ John’s voice was sharp. ‘That’s enough. You know nothing about him. Contain your comments until you do!’

  ‘I can assure you that Mr Anderson is from a very good family, Mr Rayner.’ Cassandra’s voice was cutting. ‘One of the best, and he is due a considerable fortune!’

  ‘I am sure that your information is quite correct, Miss Hamilton.’ John smiled to offset his former tone. ‘But Lucy should not jump to conclusions at a first meeting.’

  Cassandra sat back in her seat and refused to take part in any further conversation, and Lucy, chagrined, sat sulkily silent. It was left to Sarah and Blanche to make desultory conversation to ease the situation as the carriage turned for home.

  ‘What I fail to understand,’ said Cassandra as she stepped into her blue muslin gown, ‘is why Mr Rayner can be so stern over some proprieties and yet at the same time allow Sarah to be so familiar and call him Mr John?’ She watched as Sarah fastened a necklace around Lucy’s neck. ‘And Sarah, you were seen very early yesterday morning, chatting to Mr Rayner in a most intimate manner, out in the street of all places!’

  Rose blushed as she buttoned up Cassandra’s dress, it was she who had passed on the information, given to her by the groom.

  Sarah said nothing but concentrated on fastening the necklace.

  ‘Oh, I can explain that,’ said Lucy airily. ‘John, and Sarah’s father knew each other years ago and became friends – of a sort! In fact, it was all very exciting and very brave and romantic!’

  ‘Oh, do tell us, Lucy. What happened?’ Blanche sat down incautiously in her eagerness to hear and tipped over the chair, showing her stockings and pantaloons. Cassandra frowned at her severely but Lucy only giggled.

  ‘Well, when John was just a boy, he went to sea in one of Papa’s ships – and somehow or other, I don’t know exactly how, he fell into the water, and had it not been for Will’s bravery he would have drowned.’

  ‘Will?’ Blanche smoothed down her dress.

  ‘Sarah’s father, silly! He rescued him and had a terrible accident because of it.’

  ‘Of course he would expect a good reward for rescuing the owner’s nephew, wouldn’t he?’ asked Cassandra, careless of Sarah’s presence. ‘That is the usual thing, I believe.’

  She, like Lucy, read romantic novels, usually with a happy ending or a reward for good behaviour. Lucy, with a sudden spurt of loyalty, in defence of her friend’s father, who had many times in her childhood carried her on his shoulders, or had placed her small hand trustingly into his large one, became his vindicator, and hotly denied the fact that any of the seamen, least of all Will, knew that John was anything more than an ordinary seaman.

  ‘And that is why he is called Mr John, it’s what everyone calls him; Will and Maria – and everybody!’

  She stopped awkwardly as Cassandra assumed a bored expression and picked up a hand mirror to examine her face.

  ‘Fetch my pearls from my room, will you, Sarah? I think they will look better than the silver pendant.’ Cassandra made the request without looking at Sarah, but kept her face turned towards the mirror and made a petulant moue, and Sarah, glad to get away, slipped quietly out of the door.

  ‘You will have trouble with that girl, mark my words.’ Cassandra took it upon herself as the eldest to deliver a lecture to Lucy. ‘You cannot expect to behave in the same way here as you do in the country. Sarah must know her place.’

  ‘Did you see the way Mr Anderson looked at her this afternoon?’ Blanche was elated and quite unaware of the seething jealousy she was arousing in her sister. ‘She is, of course, very lov
ely – such skin, and that beautiful hair!’ She gave a deep sigh and clasped her hands together. ‘Do you think that perhaps Mr Rayner is secretly in love with her?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ cried Lucy and Cassandra in scornful unison.

  ‘Hurry, Sarah, and do up your hair, we are ready to go down. The bell will be going any minute.’ Lucy, in her pale blue gown, tapped her fan impatiently as Sarah cleared up the discarded clothes and ribbons which had been left lying on the floor and chairs. Rose had disappeared, anxious to see the guests who had started to arrive.

  ‘You go, Lucy. I’ll be along in a minute.’ Sarah started to brush her hair, her mouth full of pins.

  ‘Sarah?’ Lucy hesitated by the door and patted at a curl nervously. ‘I think that perhaps you should call me Miss Lucy whilst we’re here.’ She waved her hand in an exaggerated fashion. ‘You know what these people are like – such sticklers for protocol!’

  Sarah stared at her. ‘But – I always do,’ she whispered. ‘Whenever there is anyone else present.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ answered Lucy defensively, ‘but I mean, when they are not. Just in case anyone should overhear, you know, and think it strange.’

  Dismay washed over Sarah and she hung her head. She had been expecting something of the sort since Lucy had so obviously come under the influence of Cassandra, and miserably she realized that their friendship as it had once been was over. Mrs Love’s words that she was playing nursemaid to a spoilt child came back to her, and with a sudden perception she saw Lucy as she really was, a frivolous young woman, her breadth of view as circumscribed as the novels she read or the mirror she looked into.

  ‘Very well, Miss Lucy.’ She lifted her head. She was as composed as it was possible to be under the circumstances. ‘If that is what you wish,’ and she bobbed her knee. Lucy, looking slightly embarrassed, gave a small shrug of her shoulders and left to join Cassandra and Blanche who were making their way downstairs into the concert room.

  Sarah bit her lip and pinched her pale cheeks to put back some colour and continued to brush up her hair, but her heavy curls kept falling out of their pins and she was in no mood to bother with it. In exasperation she pulled it back from her face, tying it in place with a piece of cream lace which matched her dress.

  As she looked into the mirror she realized that the neckline of her dress was far too low. The dress had been made for Lucy, who had taken a dislike to the pale cream colour when it was finished, saying it made her look pale and washed out, and she had given it to Sarah. It would never do to be indiscreet, Sarah told herself now. She fished around hurriedly in her box, for the bell was ringing downstairs, brought out the cream silk rose which Miss Ellie had given her and placed it in the centre of the heartshaped neckline to hide the rise of her breasts.

  John stood by the door watching the seats fill up with invited guests. The inner hall was being used for the concert and already the musicians were seated and tuning their instruments.

  Amused, he saw that Lucy and her companions were seated together on a long sofa at the side of the room, a perfect vantage point from where they could watch people coming and going, and make comments to each other from behind their fans, and yet they were not too close to the music for it to be an intrusion. He looked for Sarah, but she had not yet come down.

  He bowed as Miss Pardoe arrived and murmured his approval of her appearance. She was dressed in a gown of soft draped silk the colour of old rose which admirably suited her fair skin and dark hair. She was a beautiful woman, and he knew her also to be not only intelligent but kind and considerate and an excellent hostess.

  The guests were hushed, the quartet about to begin and John had taken his seat when the door leading to the corridor at the other side of the hall opened and Sarah slipped quietly in and took a seat at the back of the room.

  He caught his breath as he saw her. The flame in the sconce on the wall above her head threw out shafts of light which flickered on her hair, making it glimmer and shine as if it too was on fire. Though she wore no powder or paint, her cheeks had a soft warm flush and her eyes were bright and luminous. He watched her in profile, and though outwardly her countenance was calm and serene, he thought he detected an undercurrent of tension or emotion beneath her tranquil beauty.

  Her beauty! How blind he had been not to have seen it before. The child with her dancing curls who had charmed him with her chatter and laughter over so many years had unknowingly transfixed him with her loveliness. He felt an unendurable desire to kiss her wide mouth, which was usually so quick to smile, but seemed now to have a wistful sadness. He wanted to run his fingers through her mane of glorious hair; but most of all he wanted to protect her vulnerability which she hid so well beneath a veil of self possession.

  The music had begun, but he could not have recognized the melody or the composer if his life had depended upon it, for his thoughts and eyes were mesmerized by the sight of Sarah. She could so easily be considered a lady, he thought as he watched her. But would a lady’s life spoil her? If artifice and manners were expected of society’s ladies, then would she lose her natural spontaneity and gaiety?

  He gave a deep audible sigh, and, conscious that he might have been overheard, he glanced furtively around at his neighbours. They were not aware of him. Most were listening intently, or in some cases politely, to the music, but some, he noticed, men and women, but mostly men, were looking at Sarah.

  Anderson was one of them, a crooked smile on his lips. John felt a cold anger that Sarah should be sullied by even a fleeting glance from such a philanderer. An unprincipled seducer, Anderson’s character was known in all the gentlemen’s clubs, though his reputation had not yet reached the ears of the ladies. He was careful to pursue only those who would not, or dare not, complain, and his standing in society was secure.

  John’s gaze returned to Sarah and he saw with a start that she was gazing at him, an appeal in her eyes as if willing him to look her way. Their eyes met and were held. He felt a current reaching out and linking them, conducted it seemed by the strains of soft music played hauntingly somewhere in the background of another world. He let it lift him, transport him, towards her welcoming arms.

  When Sarah had slipped through the side door into the hall, she looked for an unobtrusive seat, but most of the chairs and sofas were taken. She looked for Miss Lucy, but she was chatting animatedly to her companions, and although there was an empty seat nearby, Sarah hesitated about taking it without being invited, and sat instead alone on a chair by the door.

  Had she been in a happier frame of mind she would have looked forward to this evening with great anticipation, for this was the first time she had attended a concert, or listened to music played on any instrument except the drums of the military, or the reed whistles and fiddles played by the boys and men in the village to celebrate harvest time, when the labourers and the village women would drink cider and ale and dance the night away.

  But tonight she felt a sadness drawn around her, a loneliness, made worse by Lucy’s desertion. I should have known, I should have anticipated it, she thought. My mother must have felt the same when Lucy was banned from the kitchen and her charge. It has to be, we are from different worlds, and when we get home— She realized that Lucy would not want to stay in Monkston, that the provincial theatres and society of Hull and the north, which had formerly attracted her, would now pall after savouring the delights of London.

  Sarah looked across at her. Lucy’s face had a brightness about it in spite of the white powder which she had carefully brushed on it. Sarah thought that she looked like one of the pretty, fragile fashion dolls with her curls and frills and flounces.

  I can’t stay here, she thought, hemmed in by these London streets and great buildings, no matter how magnificent – not even if Lucy commands it. Miss Lucy – mentally she corrected herself. I can still go to Mrs Love if I wish. She sighed, but I don’t want that either. Oh, how I miss the vast lonely plains of Holderness, the enormous sky that has no e
nd – and the sea – the wildness and grandeur of the sea – that everyone who doesn’t understand it says is grey and threatening. If only I could feel the wet spray on my face and stand and stare at its measureless, boundless horizon.

  She stifled a sob and looked round to see if anyone had noticed. One or two gentlemen who were looking her way smiled and raised an eyebrow at her, and that odious Mr Anderson inclined his head towards her. She looked away. There was no-one she could confide in, no-one who would understand. Lucy was too wrapped up in her own affairs and Mrs Masterson was unapproachable. Miss Pardoe came into her view. How lovely she was and how kind, she would understand her feelings, she was sure, she had spoken kindly to her several times, but she wouldn’t of course dream of approaching her.

  John! Mr John. She saw him on the other side of the room, where he seemed to be engrossed, not listening to the music but staring towards Mr Anderson, who in turn was looking at something or someone near her. We would never let anyone be unkind to you, he had said. Well, no-one was being unkind, but she needed to talk to someone and she knew instinctively that she could depend on him, that he was her friend, in spite of their social differences. There was even something more than just friendship, a special bond which she had yet to find the meaning of.

  She willed him to look towards her. She could do this, she knew how, although she didn’t know why she knew. Sarah had thought, when she was a child, that everyone could communicate with each other by thought. But it was a gift, Ma Scryven had explained, a gift which you must control until you needed it.

  At last he looked her way and she held his gaze, willing his thoughts to lock into hers, but she was taken unaware by the power which erupted between them, a force stronger than she had ever known, stronger than the energy of life. She felt his mind and hers uniting, and it was as if her whole being was melting and dissolving into his and becoming one. Slowly she smiled, her body and mind filled with an inner, unbelievable happiness; yet somewhere within the poignant strains of music she could hear an echo of incomprehensible sadness.