‘Not so much near it, as on it. We sailed a lot, mostly between all the overseas postings my parents took.’ She shuffled her feet. ‘Looking back, I realise they didn’t always trust the authorities and preferred to make their own way.’
‘That explains some of it,’ he mumbled. He caught her staring at him. ‘To paraphrase yourself earlier, I’ve rubbed up against your own mistrust of authority too many times. It makes every conversation feel as though I am unwittingly engaged in a boxing match.’
He turned and stared at her hands. For a moment she thought he was going to reach out and take them, but he suddenly snapped his arms behind his back and cleared his throat. ‘I am sorry, it must be very difficult for you since you arrived here. And my sincere condolences for being…’
She gave him a wan smile. ‘Widowed? Twice, as well. To lose one husband may be regarded as a misfortune, to lose the same one twice looks like carelessness.’
He smiled ruefully. ‘That sounds rather like something Clifford would say.’
She nodded. ‘He did, well, apparently Oscar Wilde said it first about losing both your parents, something I’ve also successfully done.’ She looked up at him and shook her head. ‘Mr Wilde would consider me most dreadfully careless.’
‘Careless is not a word I have tended to associate with you.’
‘Really? What word do you associate with me? Infuriating? Like I might once have mentioned I found you?’ She groaned inwardly. Why did you say that, Ellie?
What had seemed like such a good idea the previous night was now beginning to feel a hideous blunder. Here she was trying to cover up her bubbling emotions over Hilary’s murder while discussing it with a man who Clifford determined was attracted to her. And, she could no longer deny, she him, despite their constant and heated quarrels.
To her surprise, Seldon shook his head. ‘I think I would tend towards “impetuous”, and sometimes “reckless”.’
His words reminded her of a recent telephone call where he’d uncharacteristically told her he’d rather all the criminals in England went free rather than she place herself in danger. She blushed and then tried to cover it up. ‘Now then, shall we continue our wonderful walk? I really do feel terribly bad at imposing on your holiday time. If there is anything I can do to repay you while you’re here, please do say.’
He touched her elbow to make her turn back to him.
‘Maybe there is one small thing.’ He looked into her eyes. ‘Call me Hugh.’
Twenty-Three
After a deep sleep and a breakfast of sublime smoked salmon, poached eggs and mini pancakes topped with bacon, Eleanor felt ready to tackle a new day. Especially her birthday!
Back in her suite she ruffled her bulldog’s ears. ‘Sorry to break it to you, old chum, but your bowl isn’t going to refill itself with more sausages.’ She shook her head as he stiffened at the ‘s’ word, his imploring eyes trying to weaken her resolve. ‘Good try, but not cute enough for me to let you get fat, not even on my birthday. Now, come on, we’ve got a busy day.’
She pulled out her favourite green jacket from the exquisitely inlaid mahogany wardrobe, pausing to run her fingers down Seldon’s blue scarf looped over the next hanger.
‘Oh gracious, Gladstone, I quite forgot to give this back. I’ll have to return it later.’ She hesitated, but somehow her flushed cheeks were soon buried in the scarf and Seldon’s comforting scent as she remembered his parting words.
‘I told Grimsdale I needed to borrow the photograph in order to cross-reference it with another case that might have some bearing on his. I need to give it back tomorrow, but it’s best we don’t meet again until you’ve sorted out this business… and your heart. I could not intrude. Leave the photograph at the lobby desk in an envelope and tell them that someone will collect it in due course. I’ll make sure it gets back to Grimsdale.’
With a nod, he’d shaken her hand, hanging on to it for a heartbeat, and then turned on his heel and left her wishing the world would stop spinning.
Feeling guilty, she jerked upright and stared at the photograph of Hilary on the table. Oh, Ellie, why are you so hopeless with men! Hilary can never be with you now. And maybe he never was.
The image of Grace Summers flashed in and out of her mind. She knelt and wrapped Gladstone in her arms, consoled by the kisses he bestowed upon her cheek. ‘At least you still love me, even if it is only for the sausages.’
Down in the lobby, her dutiful butler was waiting for her.
‘Morning, Clifford.’ She dropped the bulldog’s lead into his outstretched hand.
‘Good morning, my lady. And happy birthday. The ladies are looking forward to our early celebratory luncheon.’
‘Thank you. I believe celebrating stepping into my fourth decade over lunch with them and yourself will be just the tonic I need to regain my old form.’
It seemed that the weather knew it was Eleanor’s birthday as the sun shone in a cloudless sky, and the normally chattering wind had dropped to a whispering zephyr. First, they headed to The Lanes to stroll among the myriad fashionable boutiques. Eleanor fell in love with the quirkier among them, their designs appealing to her love of vibrant colours and unusual designs. The staff, mostly women, were dressed in charming little outfits themselves and more than happy for Eleanor to peruse the rails and glass cabinets at her leisure.
She couldn’t help colouring slightly at the many envious stares of the other elegantly turned out young and middle-aged women shopping as she instinctively picked out colours and styles that complimented her striking red hair and green eyes to perfection. Then, despite the many distractions on offer, she took pity on Clifford – who had shown the patience of a stoic – and set off to meet the ladies in the delightful little seafront eatery Clifford had booked.
With its spotless cream walls hung with photographs of happy families playing on the beach and cheeky seagulls perched along the Palace Pier, there was no denying the cosy holiday atmosphere of the restaurant. Even the simple cotton napkins had a delicate grey-and-pink shell motif, echoed in the starched tablecloths. The addition of the low-hanging ship’s-style lanterns over each table and the glass-panelled wooden partitions provided a fun nautical theme.
Polly gasped in delight. ‘Oh look, the napkin rings are in the shape of little crabs and lobsters as well!’
‘My lady,’ Mrs Butters said. ‘Happy birthday. We are all so honoured you’ve chosen to spend your lunchtime with us. ’Tis the highlight of our holiday.’ Mrs Trotman and Polly nodded.
‘Well, I hope not,’ Eleanor said playfully. She leaned across to the three of them and whispered loud enough for Clifford to hear, ‘I hope you have plenty more mischief planned before we return to Henley Hall.’
Mrs Trotman chuckled. ‘Oh, my lady, have we ever!’
Even the corners of Clifford’s lips twitched as the four of them laughed at this.
‘But only if we can drag young Polly along the streets faster,’ Mrs Butters said fondly. ‘We’ve spent that much time waiting for her to stop gawking at the Indian gentlemen we keep passing.’
Polly blushed. ‘’Tis their clothes, your ladyship. I’ve never seen such beautiful material on gentlemen before. Even their umbrellas are as decorated as a palace.’
‘There is absolutely nothing wrong with appreciating someone else’s culture, Polly. You must enjoy all the sights Brighton has to offer.’ She clapped her hands. ‘Now, let us lay waste to this delightful restaurant’s menu. Although, I confess, even after reading it from end to end, I simply can’t choose. It all sounds too delicious for words. Clifford, help!’
‘Very good, my lady.’ He rose and strode to the smiling waiter just emerging from the kitchen.
It was close to two hours later that Eleanor pushed her plate away. ‘What a brilliant idea, Clifford. A pick and mix of most of the dishes on the menu for us all to share.’
‘Perhaps “a buffet” might be a more grown-up term, my lady?’
‘Perhaps, but where’s the fun in growing up
too soon?’
He arched a brow. ‘Thirty years of age is too soon?’
‘Definitely. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to, though.’ Eleanor winked at Mrs Butters. ‘Right now I am full of the most delicious crab cakes, potato and chive fritters, and potted shrimps, whitebait and braised onion rissoles. Not to mention the marmalade pudding and apple pie. So there is only one thing that will end the perfect birthday lunch. Are we all game?’
The ladies nodded enthusiastically. Clifford sat poker straight, eyeing her sideways. ‘And what would that be, my lady?’
‘A donkey race on the beach. All five of us.’
Polly giggled but then clapped her hand over her mouth. Mrs Butters nudged her. ‘We arranged the donkeys on the way here, just as you asked, my lady. Five sturdy fellows and one of them especially good for anyone with longer legs.’ She winked at Eleanor.
‘They have numbered bibs we can each wear too,’ Mrs Trotman said. ‘But the donkey man did say as we need to cheer good and loud to get the most out of them.’
The four of them turned to Clifford, who sat pinching his nose, his eyes closed. ‘As it is your birthday, as you wish, my lady.’
Eleanor couldn’t keep it up any longer and led the raucous laughter that rang round their table. ‘You are the best sport ever, Clifford, but I shan’t really put you through such purgatory. Not today, anyway.’
He opened his eyes. ‘That is, indeed, good news, my lady. Because I have already planned a small surprise for your birthday myself. Although it may not be to your, or the ladies, liking, as it involves neither flouting the rules of propriety or good taste.’
Eleanor laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I love surprises, even ones that don’t outrage society’s rules.’ She gestured down the esplanade. ‘Lead the way.’
Twenty-Four
Only a short walk from the restaurant, Clifford stopped and turned to Eleanor.
‘On the rare occasions you visited the Hall as a child, my lady, I spent most of the time trying to keep you from mischief. Unfortunately, you were only mischievous because you were bored. I remember you informing me on your thirteenth birthday that you would neither be bored, or tempted into mischief, if you could go sailing as you used to with your parents. As there was no body of water, or craft, within a reasonable journey, I was never able to indulge you.’ He gestured to a smartly painted blue sailboat bobbing at the end of a long wooden jetty. ‘Apologies, my lady, I’m a little late, but I am now able to put that right.’
Eleanor smiled and shook her head. ‘No need to apologise, Clifford, it was worth the seventeen-year wait!’
‘’Tis such a pretty boat, your ladyship,’ Polly whispered, her eyes wide.
‘It’s a lugger, Polly,’ Eleanor said, admiring the vessel’s fine lines and three enormous red sails. ‘See how her sails are three-sided and suspended from the spar, or wooden beam, overhanging either end. A forty-two footer, I’d say. But I haven’t seen anything like her since we arrived down here. There’s something of the continental about her.’ She looked questioningly at Clifford. ‘I didn’t realise you could rent a fishing boat at this time of year. Surely the fishing season has started?’
‘Ah, so the lady is part sea dog, despite her fine silk scarf and fancy togs.’ Laughing blue eyes embedded in a wind-weathered face that was largely hidden by a huge shaggy beard appraised her from the boat.
‘You must be the captain of this beautiful craft.’
‘Percy Bertram Fisher at your service.’ He lifted his blue felt cap, revealing a tiny kitten curled underneath. Feeling the rustle of the gentle breeze on its fur, it stretched out its front legs and slithered down elegantly to sit on his shoulder. ‘This is Tilly.’ He gently put his hands over the kitten’s ears. ‘Thinks she’s a pirate’s parrot. Haven’t the heart to tell her my buccaneer days are over.’
Eleanor chuckled. ‘I see we are in for more than just a wonderful boat ride, Mr Fisher. I guess from your surname that your family have been in the business for several generations.’
He gave a short bow. ‘Since 1690, so we might just make it out and back. Welcome aboard the Madame Amelie.’
The captain’s strong arms easily helped each of the ladies onto the deck. Eleanor swung herself down, Clifford following with Gladstone. She ran her hand along the weather-beaten teak rail. ‘Hello, Madame Amelie. Lovely to meet you.’
‘Here’s the bag you left Mr Clifford,’ Percy said, holding out a carpet bag.
‘My lady.’ Clifford held it out to her. ‘The cabin is quite appropriate. I inspected it myself previously.’
Lifting the hatch, he offered his gloved hand as she turned to walk backwards down the narrow wooden steps. Catching her breath at the bottom, her heart faltered just for a second as she looked round the cosy space that reminded her so much of the one she had shared with her parents as a child when they were at sea.
On either side, a narrow seat covered with a patchwork quilt obviously doubled as snug bunks. To her left was a charming galley area, complete with miniature sink and a tiny cooker top. A worn, but highly polished wooden table occupied the rest of the cabin. One leaf was folded, allowing access to the forward sleeping quarters, just like on her parents’ boat.
A box of rolled up charts sat to one side and opposite it a small bookcase had been made to fit the space left by the offset position of the pot-bellied stove. The cabin was wonderfully bright, hung as it was with several lit paraffin lamps, which sparkled in the wide mirror hung between the many small framed prints of boats. A single photograph of an obviously younger Percy caught her eye. He had his arm hanging protectively around the shoulder of a pretty girl in a simple print dress, who was staring at him adoringly. Eleanor nodded to herself. ‘Amelie.’
A few minutes later, she re-emerged dressed in her favourite sage-green trousers, matching cardigan and her rubber-soled tennis shoes that she’d found in the carpet bag. And in the short time she had been away, bunting had been strung the full length of the boat and Clifford was busy pouring champagne into a tray of tin mugs.
Percy laughed at the look on Eleanor’s face as he tickled Tilly’s chin. ‘It seems Mr Clifford’s sleeves are even longer than you knew. He gave me quite the list of instructions on how this little lot of surprises he was hiding was to go.’
Eleanor shook her head. ‘I can imagine. Right down to the temperature and precise timing the champagne should be served, I’m sure.’ She took the mug Clifford held out to her.
‘Thank you so much, it’s a wonderful birthday surprise.’
He inclined his head. ‘However, I must apologise, my lady. Mr Fisher has informed me that champagne flutes are not permitted aboard. Broken glass being deemed too hazardous in turbulent waters.’
With their mugs raised, everyone chorused a rousing, ‘Happy birthday, my lady.’
‘Best wishes for long, happy days with the best of the catch,’ Percy added. ‘Can’t say as Amelie and me have ever had a titled lady aboard, like yourself. Let’s hope it’s good luck.’
She tilted her head, pointing to her flame red curls. ‘Well, you’ve averted the first potential for an ill-fated trip by greeting me before we boarded, haven’t you?’
‘Ah, more than part sea dog, I see. Only one who’s spent a good while afloat would know ’tis bad luck for sailors to let a red-headed woman aboard without exchanging words first.’
‘I grew up sailing from posting to posting abroad with my parents. I loved it,’ Eleanor found herself gushing. ‘The smell of the sea as the sun rose. Hanging over the bow rail in my pyjamas watching the water flow underneath us. The beauty of our boat herself. But, most of all, the magic of the wind taking us hundreds of miles around the world in nothing more than lots of lovingly crafted wooden planks.’
Percy held up a hand. ‘I know Amelie’ll agree with me in that case.’ Handing Tilly over to a delighted Polly, he lifted the lid of a wooden trunk lashed to the transom at the rear of the boat. His voice was muffled as his top half disappeared
inside. ‘Ah, there it is.’ Standing back up, he held out a yellow sou’wester. ‘You were right enough ’bout the fishing season having started, m’lady. Last week as it happens. But I was happy to agree to Mr Clifford hiring Amelie seeing as my first mate is crook. Fancy filling in for him?’
‘Absolutely!’ She slapped the sou’wester on and saluted. ‘Where are we off to today, Skipper?’
‘We shall cast off, heading West. Selsey Bill will be waiting for us if we make good enough progress.’
She laughed. ‘Who’s he?’
He chuckled and shook his head. ‘The old sea jokes are the best, aren’t they?’ They both knew Selsey Bill was actually a headland they’d need to navigate around. If they got that far.
The ladies were clearly as excited as Eleanor was as they cast off and Madame Amelie set sail. With the familiar sound of the halyards striking the masts and the sight of the sails rippling in the breeze, Eleanor was filled with childlike delight. Once they had reached a sufficient distance out from shore, Percy set their course and then, to her surprise, handed Eleanor the helm, staying close enough to leap in should his precious boat lurch into peril. She couldn’t keep the grin from her face as they slid elegantly through the gently rolling white horses.
While Clifford kept everyone’s mug topped up and Polly played with Tilly, the ladies admired the striking views of Brighton’s long parade and then, as the scenery changed, the many formal gardens along Hove’s seafront, the town’s imposing Georgian facades echoing those of its more famous cousin.
‘What do you think, m’lady?’ Percy said. ‘Turn a little more into the wind? Or are you just hoping to see me sprint down and reset the foresail every five minutes?’ He winked at her and dropped down into the cabin.
They continued on past Shoreham-by-Sea, which looked like a cosy village in comparison to the grandeur of Brighton. As they neared the more heavily built-up town of Worthing, Eleanor was poring over the chart laid out on the wooden platform in front of her.
Mystery by the Sea: An utterly addictive English cozy mystery (A Lady Eleanor Swift Mystery Book 5) Page 13