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by Wendy Bayne


  I disliked her a little less for her confession because it was that episode that had brought Miles to me in the nursery. That part of the night was as fresh in my mind today as if it had happened just yesterday. I smiled at her briefly before saying, “Of course.” She reached out and touched my hand, my first reaction was to withdraw but I didn’t.

  My mother had been watching me closely. “Lissa, Mrs de Bearne has asked for our help.” I sat back and waited for her to continue. “She was not born to the world that her husband was and is nervous to meet his family. She would like us to help her learn what she needs to know to fit in. I think we’ll start with a visit to our dressmaker then I’ll work with her on the aspects of household management. She has a very good ear for languages and figures, she plays the piano very well and is an excellent horsewoman so that won’t be a problem.”

  I tried to muster a smile when I looked at Charity, “My mother is an excellent teacher but a hard task master.” My response had no warmth, but my nerves were on edge since my thoughts were with Miles and not the complexities of maintaining a home.

  Mother cleared her throat. “I would like your help with her introduction into society as Mrs de Bearne and not Charity Clarke. We will, of course, have to come up with a story that adequately explains her change of status…”

  I was speechless at first and without thinking interrupted, “And how exactly am I supposed to do that?”

  Charity looked hurt and my mother was annoyed. “I would have thought that considering the difficulties that you experienced in your own life that you’d be more understanding and extend her the hand of friendship.”

  I felt like I had been slapped in the face and responded with anger, “You mean when you and Father didn’t own me as your daughter and allowed me to grow up in the shadow of innuendo that I was a bastard and subjected me to the parenting of the General?” Then the harshness of my statement hit me. Mother looked devastated and Charity embarrassed. Father and Gabriel stood with their mouths open, staring at me. My mother with tears in her eyes reached out and slapped me across the face. I jerked back, placing my hand on my cheek then stood up and raced out of the room without a thought of where to go. I ran out into the street and crossed into the park. I continued to run and finally slipped on a wet patch, falling to my knees in a copse of withered bushes. There I buried my face in my hands, but I didn’t cry, I was too ashamed. I finally looked about to discover that I was off the normal paths and that I was utterly alone no one had followed me. My gown was already filthy, so I sat down and pondered what I should do, how could I return and apologise not only to the de Bearnes but to my parents.

  Then I heard a chuckle and a “tsk, tsk,” I looked around me but there was no one there. Suddenly the branches of the hedge nearby parted and there stood Jibben. “Such a mess you have made of your pretty dress, Miss Turner. You really should not be out here alone. You are lucky that I saw you run from your parent’s home. It’s such a foolish thing to do.”

  I glared at him. “What do you care?”

  He laughed, spreading out his coat and sat down beside me. “I don’t. But I care about my cousin and your Mr Johnson. If the wrong people caught you out here, they could use you against Johnson and that could hurt my Peter…to you he is Dr Grimes. I don’t suppose you’d like to go home right now?” I shook my head no and looked at him, praying he would just leave me alone. Instead he stood up, grabbed my arm and pulled me up. He wrapped his coat around me. “I didn’t think so. I’ll take you to see Grandmama, maybe she can help you. Women’s problems just confuse me.” He pulled me towards the roadway and away from my home. His tinker’s wagon was at the side of the road, the horse was quietly munching at the long grass, but it looked up to give Jibben a withering stare. Jibben patted the mare and laughed, “Don’t look at me like that, Rosa, blame this young lady. I promise you when we get back to camp, I will give you some extra oats.” He patted her again then helped me up to the high seat and jumped up beside me and we started to move off.

  He walked the horse through the streets slowly. “Your parents will be worried.”

  I wrapped my arms around my waist like I needed to hold myself together. “I don’t think so.”

  He grunted. “That bad, hmmm.” I only nodded then we didn’t speak again for a while. I shivered and pulled his coat tighter around me, it smelled of wood smoke and peppermint.

  I didn’t want to talk but my curiosity got the better of me, “What were you doing back there by the park?”

  He chuckled. “I’m a tinker, among other things, so I was plying my trade. The Mayfair cooks like sharp knives and no one is better than me and they know it. Plus, it’s a good place to find out things. Most people think servants know nothing, that they’re deaf, huh! If those maids and grooms only knew what to do with the things they tell me they would all be rich.” He paused and chuckled. “Well, maybe not I am not rich yet, but then I’m too generous, I tell your father and uncles too much for free. But when I give information to them or to Bow Street Runners, they leave us alone for the most part, so it has its value.” He pulled a sack out from behind him reached in a pulled out a bread roll tore it in half and passed me a piece. “Here, eat, thinking is hard work and you look like you have a lot of thinking to do.” We passed the rest of the trip in silence, once we reached the camp Jibben took me to his grandmama’s wagon and left me with her after saying, “She is troubled, fix her, please.”

  Jibben’s grandmother just looked me up and down then walked around me. She opened a trunk pulled out a shirt of a bright magenta silk and a skirt of darkest indigo shot through with threads of silver and a shawl to match passing them to me, “Dress in these.” Then she left the wagon with a tea pot. By the time I had changed she was back with a plate of stew and black bread that she set down on the table and pointed at it as she motioned for me to sit on a stool as she set about brewing the tea. I ate the stew with relish, it was excellent, and the bread was fresh with a slightly bitter taste, yet it was a nice compliment to the stew. Every movement of my companion was accompanied by a soft jangle and when she finally sat down and threw off her shawl, I saw the multiple chains and bracelets of silver and gold coins dangling from her neck and wrists. She watched my eyes take it all in and remarked, “You like?” She shook her wrists and pointed to her many necklaces of coins. “This is my fortune. It goes with me everywhere.” She smiled then gestured for me to drink my tea. There were thin almond biscuits to go with it that melted in my mouth as soon as I took a bite. When I was almost done, she took my tea cup swirled it around three times then turned it upside down to drain it, when she righted it she stared into the cup then looked at me intensely. She rose and walked to her door carrying the cup and called out, “Jibben!” Then she wrapped my dress up in a bundle and handed it to me.

  Jibben popped his head in through the door, “Yes, Grandmamma?!”

  She waved her hand at me. “Take her home. She has work that she must do.”

  Jibben looked sceptical “What of Peter and Mr Johnson?”

  His mother had her back to him, but she spoke loud enough for us both to hear. “She will be in trouble again…but they will be fine.” She turned back, handing me a small soft leather pouch, it smelled of lavender and something else that was sweet, but I couldn’t place it. “Keep that with you at all times and at night under your pillow, it will protect you.”

  I wanted to laugh but the look she gave me would brook no laughter. “How, I mean, what does it do?”

  She leaned close to me. “It will warn you of the things that are a danger to you and those you love.”

  I wanted to ask her how, but she raised her hand to stop me as if she knew what my question would be, “You will know when it happens.” My heart sped up and I swallowed hard. Then she moved around the table walking past me and went out the door, brushing Jibben aside.

  Just then I heard horses arrive in the camp and my father’s voice shouting for Jibben. He scrunched his facial features as if
in pain. “I think I will not have to take you home. Your father is here. Tell me, little one, did the amulet work?” I looked at him puzzled then nodded yes, my heart had sped up just before I heard the horses and my father’s voice. He grinned from ear to ear. “Good! No one is better than Grandmamma! Keep that near you, Miss Turner, it could save your life.” I heard my father call out for Jibben again and he answered this time, “Over here, Turner, she is here.”

  Chapter 35

  Troubled Minds

  My father’s head and shoulders appeared through the doorway, he glared at Jibben who laughed at him then left. Father came into the confined space towering over me looking worn out and beaten, glancing around, holding his hat in hand he sat on the stool where Jibben’s mother had been sitting. He looked ridiculous with his knees bent up almost touching his chest. He tossed his hat on top of a trunk, took a deep sigh and in an angry voice hissed, “Sit!” I opened my mouth, but no words came out and he repeated “Sit” but less forcefully. I looked down at my costume blushing as I saw him taking it in. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger then clasped his hands on the table before him. “Well, Lissa, I hope that you’ve got it out of your system. Honestly I’ve been waiting for this to happen.” He looked at me and could see my confusion. “I mean the euphoria of being part of a family has finally worn off, it took longer than I thought it would.”

  My heart constricted. I was afraid of what he might say next, so I tried to stop him, “Father—Papa.”

  But he raised his hand to stop me. “Lissa, your childhood was not what I would have wished for and you have every right to be angry and hurt. Your mother and I were young but more than anything we were afraid. If the General had never come home, I’d like to think that our lie might not have been so bad. But he did come home, and our lie became a nightmare for you. I should have walked in and claimed you and your mother, be damned with what came next. But in truth I was a bigger coward than your mother or your uncle for keeping the truth from you. I deserve your hate, Clarissa, not your mother. I can’t tell you what our life might have been like if I hadn’t left you in that place. I just know that I should have tried.”

  He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket it was a sketch; at first, I thought it was the one that I had done of James taking his first steps. But it wasn’t, it was older, and it was of a girl, it was me. He laid it out in front of me. I noticed smudges here and there as well as some water spots, there was even some blood on it. He smiled down at it. “This reminded me so much of the one you drew for me of James. It was from your mother. When I was on the continent I carried it with me everywhere. Whenever my mail caught up with me there would be another sketch of you doing another first or in a new frock or one of you sleeping.” He chuckled. “I used to talk to you or rather to the pictures, I called you my dumpling. I’d tell you stories about my adventures and my hopes for the future. I showed perfect strangers those pictures and told them that you were my daughter and how very much I missed you. Then I’d tell them the things that your mother had written to me about you, just as if I had been there. My heart was so full when I could talk about you and your mother. I thought I’d drive your uncle insane. But, Lissa, it was your smiling face that kept at bay the horror of the things I’d seen and the things I had done. Without your picture in my pocket I don’t know how I might have changed; but you kept me from the darkness and for that I can never repay you, except to be the best father that I can now.” His eyes glistened in low light and I could already feel the hot liquid of my own tears running down my cheeks. I reached out over the table taking his hands in mine, we held onto each other tightly with the picture of me lying between us. We sat there not speaking and not looking directly at each other. Then he stood up not letting go of my hands but pulling me up with him. “Will you come home with me to your mother? Can you forgive us?” I stepped into his arms and he pulled me to his chest whispering, “I love you, my little dumpling.”

  I looked up at him and knew that my face must be a fright with my nose running, my reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks. He pulled out his handkerchief and offered it to me then motioned towards the doorway and ushered me down the steps. He had brought his curricle for us to ride home in and the matched bays pulling it were being admired a little too closely by Jibben and his cousins. Father handed me up and tossed a shilling to the boy that had been holding them as he climbed up beside me. He looked down at Jibben and extended his hand, “Thank you, my friend.” Jibben looked at his hand with suspicion but reached out and shook it, my Father grinned before he let go. “We will talk later. Come by my home tomorrow for lunch and bring your grandmother.”

  Jibben let go of his hand and stepped back wagging his finger, “I think you are a little bit crazy, Turner. But we will be there.”

  Father gathered up the reins. “Oh and come to the front entrance when you arrive.”

  Jibben looked shocked. “I take that back, you are very crazy, Turner.”

  Jibben’s grandmamma came up behind him and slapped the back of his head then said to my father, “We will be there.”

  Then she walked away into the darkness, leaving Jibben rubbing the back of his head as he said, “We’ll be there, Turner.”

  The drive home was quiet and peaceful. I asked only one question, “How did you know where to find me.”

  “Jacob followed you, but he kept his distance and saw Jibben collect you.” He smiled down at me and pulled me closer.

  When we arrived home, Mother met us at the door and pulled me into hug that almost choked me. She finally released me just as I was starting to see stars before my eyes. “Lissa, I’m sorry.”

  I kissed her on the cheek. “So am I. That was a hateful thing for me to say. Father was able to explain things to me with a great deal of clarity.”

  She smiled and pushed a tendril of hair behind my ear. “He told you about the pictures, didn’t he?” I nodded, and she took from her pocket a miniature of her and my father. It must have been done when they were first married, they were so very young. I held it in my hand and it was warm from her carrying it. “I’m going to have it enlarged and painted in oils, but I would like to incorporate that picture of you taking your first steps if I may.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “But who will you get to do it? Both you and I are more than adequate at drawing. But truthfully my attempts at painting have been abysmal and to invite an outsider into our lives to do this wouldn’t be wise right now, there’d be too many questions.”

  Charity came out of the shadows to look over my mother’s shoulder. “I would love to do it, it’s one talent that I do possess, Miss Turner. I’m good at painting and it will help keep me occupied while Gabriel and your father are off on business. I don’t have your hunger to be involved in adventure nor your mother’s talent for piecing together bits and pieces of information. But I can paint.”

  I was annoyed at her for interjecting herself into this family moment but then I realised that she had, in fact, quelled the tension. So, I decided to give her a chance to prove that she had a place with us. “I think that would be a wonderful, Mrs de Bearne. Thank you.”

  Mother stepped back smiling at both of us. “I have the original drawing that the miniature was made from. It has a great deal more detail in it then you can see here.” My mother must have anticipated my question about who had done the original miniature. “Both the drawing and the miniature were done by Charlotte, my stepmother. She was a very talented artist just like my mother, Alice.” She paused looking down at the miniature that I had given back to her and she ran a finger over it, almost caressing it.

  “I think that was the reason my father married Charlotte. She had so many of mama’s qualities and talents and she was a kind soul too. But she never had my mother’s vibrancy. I think that’s what my father held against her the most and why he left her alone so much after their son was still born, she didn’t have Mama’s spark. Charlotte was only ever a shadow of Alice Blac
kwood. He could never appreciate the person that was Charlotte Thorne.” She spoke in a very soft voice as if afraid of disturbing the memory of the two women that had shaped her. At least I had been fortunate enough to have always had my mother at my side as I grew up. Even if I hadn’t known she was my mother, she had always treated me as I would have wanted a mother to treat me.

  Father came in and Gabriel joined us, throwing more light into the hallway from the open door to the library. He bowed to me. “Miss Turner, I am delighted to see you safely returned. While you were gone, and your parents were busy, a letter came to me from Dr Grimes, it included a missive for you.” I crinkled up my brow not understanding why Dr Grimes should be writing to me or sending it to Gabriel. His brow crinkled as he flashed me an amused smile. “Ah yes, you’re not aware that Dr Grimes and I know each other.” He grimaced then chuckled reaching out to clasp Charity’s hand. “Dr Grimes was the pirate that discovered Charity and I hiding in the hold when our ship was attacked on the way to the West Indies. It was shortly after that raid that he returned to England. But he has kept his hand in the business you might say in a small way. Being a Bow Street Coroner with a small private practise doesn’t always pay well. At least not enough to maintain his life style and his work amongst the poor. We connected with each other again after I arrived in England through a mutual business associate. That’s why he’s gone with Mr Johnson, he has connections along the coast.” I frowned at him and he glared back but then smiled and chuckled, “Piracy is not always about profit, Miss Turner, it can also be a tool that governments use to subvert their enemies. But it’s a small and very exclusive brotherhood…one that you can never really leave.”

 

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