It was left to one of the river boatmen to inform the village that Patrick had indeed had a female companion – a haughty piece by all accounts – whose description matched Victoria’s, but she had left Dartmouth after his death, owing three weeks’ rent. Her whereabouts were unknown.
What were the pair of them doing in the seaport? That was what puzzled Maddy. And, knowing Patrick’s fear of water, she still wondered what had enticed him on to the river and to his ultimate death.
Chapter Seventeen
Grief over Patrick’s death remained with Maddy like a dark shadow. It might have been easier if she could have expressed her distress aloud, but people had long thought she had got over him, and now she could not bring herself to mourn in public. She kept her pain tight within her. How grateful she was for her work. At the cider shop she could submerge herself in activity for hours at a time. It was during the brief lulls at work that the harsh reality came back to haunt her.
‘Could you do with another assistant?’ Cal asked one day.
‘Not really,’ she replied in surprise. ‘Why do you ask? Don’t you think I am coping well enough?’
‘What a defensive woman you are! I meant no hint of criticism, I promise you. I’ve merely noticed how you dash about like a scalded hen, and I wondered if I was overworking you.’
‘You are not,’ said Maddy firmly, then softened the brusqueness of her reply with a ‘Thank you’. After a pause she added, ‘I like to keep occupied, that’s all.’
‘As long as it is just a fondness for over-activity.’
She sensed sympathy beneath his keen regard, and that made her feel awkward. ‘Is there any reason why I should not keep busy?’ she asked.
‘Busy, no. Over-busy, yes. For I am thinking of putting extra demands upon you.’
‘We can’t extend the shop,’ she replied promptly. ‘I’ve considered it carefully, and there is no direction in which we can expand. In addition, Mrs Collins is working to full capacity now, the kitchen just isn’t big enough to take on anything more.’
‘I’m glad to learn that you’ve been giving my business affairs such careful consideration,’ he said, grinning. ‘But it isn’t the expansion of this shop that I have in mind, it’s starting another one.’
‘Another one? Where?’ demanded Maddy.
Cal gave a shrug. ‘I don’t know yet. I’m only toying with the idea. We won’t discuss the matter for the moment. For one thing, I need to get the plans clear in my head, and for another I fancy you have more than enough to cope with at present.’ Maddy wished he did not seem to be able to read her mind; it was disconcerting, to say the least.
‘Mr Whitcomb’s gone then,’ remarked Nan, observing his retreating back with some relief.
‘Don’t say it like that,’ said Maddy. ‘He won’t eat you, you know.’
‘I idn’t so sure.’ Nan’s expression of alarm dissolved into one of self-satisfaction. ‘I bet I knows where’m heading right now, any road.’
‘The Seven Stars to fetch his horse?’ suggested Maddy, her attention focused upon restacking cider mugs on a shelf.
‘Not he. He’m off for a bit of courting.’
‘Who? Mr Whitcomb?’ Maddy almost dropped one of the mugs in her surprise. ‘He’s been very cunning if he is, there’s no word of it about the village.’
‘The folk of Totnes be one up on the folk of Stoke Gabriel in that case. ’Tis reckoned he’m got his eye on Miss Hannaford. You know, the corn merchant’s daughter – has the gurt warehouse over to St Peter’s Quay.’
‘Oh, that Hannaford!’ said Maddy. She did not know either the daughter or the corn-merchant father, but their employees were valued customers in the shop.
‘Yes, that Hannaford,’ affirmed Nan. ‘He’m courting a pretty penny there, her being the only child.’
‘Probably just rumour,’ said Maddy, turning back to the stacking.
Maybe, but he spent last Sunday with her. Saw him up to St Mary’s with my own eyes, and in the Hannaford pew. Him and his mother. Leastways, I think ’twas his mother. Stout, cross-looking little body as he sometimes drives into town? All white curls and fancy bonnets?’
‘That sounds like Mrs Whitcomb.’
‘Well, if his ma be invited too, that have got to mean summat, don’t it?’ insisted Nan.
‘You could be right,’ agreed Maddy. It seemed as if Cal might have found his advantageous bride. For his sake, she hoped Miss Hannaford proved to be a nice girl.
It was not long before rumours that Farmer Whitcomb was paying court to a wealthy young woman reached Stoke Gabriel. As far as the gossips were concerned, Miss Hannaford’s financial expectations rose with each telling. According to them the marriage settlement was already being worked out and the betrothal would be announced any day. But time went on without anything happening. Nor did Cal make any comment about the matter. Indeed, for a man facing impending marriage, he seemed remarkably calm.
And why shouldn’t he? Maddy asked herself. It’s not as if this were a love match. No affections are involved.
The thought depressed her. Her love for Patrick, for all its unhappy consequences, had given her an insight into what marriage could be. It seemed a shame if Cal Whitcomb had to settle for less.
Cal himself appeared far more concerned with the idea of opening a second cider shop. For a while the subject had not been mentioned, then quite out of the blue one day he said, ‘I think Paignton would be a good choice, don’t you?’
‘For what?’ asked Maddy.
‘For another shop.’
‘You’re really considering opening another one?’
‘Of course.’ He seemed surprised at the question. ‘Did you think I was joking?’
‘I wasn’t sure.’
‘I’m deadly serious. What do you think of Paignton? I will give you my ideas why I think it is a good situation, and you can play Devil’s advocate. Firstly, it is a busy town, with much expansion and building going on. Also, it is becoming increasingly popular as a holiday resort since the railway came. This time I have done my homework thoroughly and investigated the existing cider shops, and they are mainly in the older part of town up by the church. I think we should have our shop in the newer district somewhere near the railway station.’
‘It would be expensive,’ said Maddy. ‘Not to mention difficult to get. I hear the properties round there are much sought after.’
‘True, but I have heard of one that may be empty before long. No doubt we’ll have to pay a high rent for it, but it will be worth it. Just think of what a range of customers we would have – workers, townsfolk, holidaymakers, travellers going to and fro on the trains.’
‘Ah, but would we? What sort of a place would appeal to all those sorts of people? For, make no mistake, if it is too grand then the workmen will stay away. Too rough and ready and travelers and townsfolk will be put off. And as for the holidaymakers, they will patronise us for only a few weeks in the year. If we aren’t careful, we could try to please everybody and end up by attracting no one.’
‘A very good point,’ Cal said heartily. ‘I am sure you’ll think of an excellent solution.’
‘Me?’ Maddy’s voice rose to a squeak. ‘I can’t run this shop and set up a new one as well.’
‘I don’t expect you to. Nan can have charge of this place, or do you think it is beyond her capabilities?’
‘No, Nan can cope right enough, with someone else to help her.’
‘Right then, that’s settled. Admit it, never for one minute did you entertain anyone else starting the new shop. You always knew it would be your job.’
At first Maddy began to deny it vehemently, then her protestations faded. ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ she admitted ruefully.
‘I’m always right,’ said Cal. ‘You will still be in overall charge of the Totnes shop, of course. Nan can run it, but I want her to be responsible to you.’
‘I’m not destined for an idle life, I see.’
‘No, you’d be mi
serable with nothing to do. It is decided? You approve of Paignton as our next business venture?’
‘That decision must be yours,’ said Maddy, alarmed at such responsibility.
‘Then I have decided. We will open a shop at Paignton and we will both go there tomorrow to look at properties.’
As he rose to leave, Maddy was beset with sudden misgivings. ‘You are sure about this?’ she asked. ‘You don’t think you should wait until the Totnes shop has been established a little longer?’
‘What good would that serve? It would only give competitors a chance to get ahead of us with our own idea. Correction. Your idea.’
‘Does that mean I get the blame if it fails?’
‘It won’t fail, not with cider the quality of ours and pasties as tasty as these.’ He pushed aside his empty mug and the plate bearing the crumbs of the pasty he had just eaten.
‘The cider will be no problem, but if we’re to provide pasties made on the premises, I had better start looking for another cook.’
‘That will be no problem either,’ said Cal with complete confidence. ‘Isn’t your stepmother a Paignton woman? And didn’t she find us the inestimable Mrs Collins? A word in her ear and I’m sure she can provide us with yet another treasure.’ With a wave of his hand he left the shop, leaving Maddy rather daunted by these new demands but already feeling a growing sense of excitement at the challenge ahead. Although she had the experience of the Totnes shop to draw upon, this would be a different venture. The more varied clientele would present new problems.
* * *
‘You’m got a day off tomorrow or summat?’ asked Jack, watching Maddy painstakingly pressing her skirt hem.
‘Not a day off exactly,’ said Maddy, as the heated flat-iron raised steam from the damp cloth covering the woollen fabric. ‘I’ve got to go to Paignton with Mr Whitcomb first.’
‘And what be you’m off to Paignton for on a working day, may I ask?’
‘A bit of business. I can’t tell you yet, Father, because it’s confidential, but you’ll know about it soon enough.’
‘Oh, I will, will I? Well, I suppose I must be content with that. But be you’m going alone with Cal Whitcomb?’
‘I’ll be alone, of course. Who else would be with us?’
‘I don’t know now, do I? I were just wondering. And I suppose afterwards he’m going to drive you over to Totnes?’
‘I don’t know. Joshua might be in the driving seat, it depends on whether we go in the trap or the gig.’ Maddy carefully set her iron to reheat at the fire and regarded Jack. ‘Now then, Father, what’s behind these questions?’
‘I’ll tell you what be behind them, my maid. I idn’t at all pleased at the time you’m spending alone in Farmer Whitcomb’s company. He’m your maister, I knows that, you’m bound to see a fair bit of un, but he is seeing you over to the shop, and you’m having meetings up to Oakwood to sort out the accounts and such, and there be times when he takes you to work or brings you home. Now you’m traipsing over to Paignton with un for the morning, and alone again. I reckon it be getting beyond a joke. Tidn’t right for you to spend so much time alone with un. You’m getting yourself talked about, our Maddy. I accused you of that once afore, years back, and you fair jawed my ears off. Well, you habn’t got no cause to jaw this time ’cos the facts be plain and clear. And I be telling you, it have got to stop.’ Jack leaned back in his chair, quite out of breath after his long and impassioned speech.
Maddy regarded him with astonishment. ‘But Mr Whitcomb is my employer, you’ve pointed that out yourself,’ she said. ‘How am I to avoid being alone with him?’
‘That be something you’m going to have to work out yourself, maid,’ Jack replied.
‘That’s being unreasonable. I can’t possibly have a chaperon trailing after me while I’m at work. Tell him it’s impossible, Joan,’ she appealed to her stepmother.
But Joan’s attention never wavered from her perpetual knitting. ‘Your father have got a point, my lover. Folks be beginning to take notice, and that idn’t never a good thing.’
‘Notice of what?’ Maddy demanded. That I work for him and have to spend a fair time in his company? Why, his betrothal is expected to be announced any day. Doesn’t that scotch the rumours?’
Joan gave a derisive snort. ‘Course it don’t, girl. Cal Whitcomb be the sort as can cope with two women at the same time, anyone can see that.’
‘Oh really!’ exclaimed Maddy crossly. ‘Am I expected to give up my job, my very good job,’ she emphasised, ‘simply to satisfy the village gossips?’
‘No one’s suggesting you gives up your job,’ put in Joan hastily. ‘But us’m talking about your good name yer, and that be important. Surely there must be some way round un?’
‘I can’t think of one,’ retorted Maddy.
‘If that be the case then there idn’t naught else for un,’ said Jack. ‘I must go up Oakwood and have a word with Cal Whitcomb myself.’
‘Please don’t do that!’ cried Maddy, appalled at the embarrassment it would cause her. Nevertheless, she recognised the unusual degree of determination in her father’s voice. He meant what he said, even to the incredible possibility of setting foot on Oakwood soil himself.
‘These yer visits to the house at Oakwood to reckon up the bills and whatnot, couldn’t they be done at the shop in Totnes, with this Nan person you talks about on hand?’ suggested Joan.
‘I’m sure I could get Mr Whitcomb to agree to that,’ said Maddy more calmly. ‘But how could I persuade him not to drive me home afterwards? Perhaps if I left work earlier on a Friday and did the accounts with him in the office at Oakwood rather than at the house? That would solve one problem, and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. There’d be plenty of folk about the place then, we wouldn’t be alone. Would that satisfy you?’
‘That’d be fine.’ Jack’s face beamed. ‘There, I knowd you’d come up with summat. All you’m to bother with now is finding a way of stopping Farmer Whitcomb driving you about the countryside the rest of the time and us’ll be content. The last thing us wants is for you to stop working. Us be real proud of the way you’m getting on, bain’t us, Joan? But not if it costs you your good name.’
Maddy smiled absently, turning back to her pressing, her attention no longer focused on removing creases. How to discourage Cal from driving her to and fro was not what troubled her, it was the prospect of the future. Cal was involving her at a much earlier stage with this new shop, enough to take her to Paignton to look at property. She feared he intended taking a closer interest in this latest venture, which would mean their spending more time together, almost certainly alone, and this was what occupied her thoughts.
There was only one solution. She would have to put the matter frankly before Cal and request his co-operation. The prospect embarrassed her in the extreme, but she could think of no other way out.
The morning dawned fine and clear, the sharpness of autumn in the cool air. As she climbed the lane, Maddy was determined that her latest problem was not going to spoil the day. She felt quite excited at the prospect of riding into Paignton instead of walking. In addition, her outfit was new, the product of nights of sewing, ably assisted by Joan’s nimble needle and Annie’s advice. It had been the dark, rich damson shade of the fine woollen cloth which had first attracted her attention. She had bought a length instantly, the first indulgence of her new affluence.
The matter of style had been a far more difficult decision, until Annie had produced a paper pattern, obtained from the squire’s house – no doubt surreptitiously – by her sister, Kitty. It had been of a two-piece; the skirt was full at the back, and the jacket had a peplum which Annie had assured Maddy was all the rage. How she knew, Maddy had no idea, but she took her word for it and began the nerve-racking task of cutting out. The completed garment turned out far better than she had dared to hope, especially when trimmed with matching braid.
‘There, her’m going to be taken for gentry in that, and no mistake, idn
’t her, Annie?’ said Joan proudly.
Annie’s answer was slow in coming, for her attention was on Maddy’s head.
‘What you’m needing, girl, be a hat,’ she said. ‘Not a bonnet, they’m gone out with the Ark, but a hat. One of they smart ones shaped like a pork pie, maybe with a bit of a veil.’ She spoke with complete authority on such matters of high fashion, in spite of being bound to her cottage for most of her days.
Rather to her surprise Maddy had found herself calling in at the smart milliner’s just below Totnes’ East Gate later that week and, even more to her surprise, coming away with a trim little hat in exactly the right rich hue.
Now, as she made her way to the top of the lane where Cal would be waiting for her, Maddy was delighted with her recent extravagances. She knew she looked good. Not since the days of Patrick’s frank approval had she felt so confident. She would not object if Cal Whitcomb also displayed some admiration. However, as she approached, he was occupied in calming his horse, a new bay, that had been disturbed by a dog yapping at its heels.
‘Wretched animal,’ he remarked after the now fleeing dog. ‘I’ll have a few sharp words to say to its owner. Unruly brutes like that can cause accidents. You’re prompt, I’m glad to see. We’ve a deal to do this morning. Shall we be on our way?’ He handed her into the gig – and any moment for admiration was gone.
Maddy’s disappointment was fleeting as she realised it was for the best. She was going to have to tackle him on an awkward enough subject sometime during the day, and it would be better not to have the affair further complicated by compliments.
It was a hectic morning. They saw five different properties, scrutinised them thoroughly, discussed terms and dates with the eager agent.
‘We have sufficient information, I think,’ said Cal, wafting the sheaf of papers in his grasp. ‘We will inform you of our decision in due course.’
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