by Valerie Wood
He nodded. ‘I can imagine, my dear. My wife and I were not able to have children and they were sadly missed.’
‘I haven’t told Joe yet,’ she whispered. ‘I wanted to wait until after ’wedding, but’, she put her head down and looked quite bashful, ‘I’m going to have a babby. I never thought that I would – it’s like a miracle!’
Emily joined them. She looked very happy. ‘I have made up my mind,’ she said. ‘I’m going home to England.’
‘Oh, Emily.’ Meg was distressed. ‘I’ll miss you so much.’
‘But you and Joe have each other and Ralph. You can build a life together. You love this country, it has so much to offer you, whilst I – I must go home to try to remember who I am.’
‘And Mr Linton?’ Meg asked. ‘What about him?’
‘He’s been talking to Joe, they’ve been discussing the sale of Creek Farm. Joe wants to buy it, but he has to sell the gold to do so.’
‘I didn’t mean that, as you well know,’ Meg said bluntly and Clavell smiled and moved away. ‘I mean about him and you. You know how he cares for you, how he has always cared. Everybody can see it, why can’t you?’
Emily smiled and glanced across the room to where Philip was in earnest conversation with the parson. He looked up and caught her gaze; he ceased talking and it was as if there were a tenuous thread linking them and drawing them together.
‘I do see it,’ she said softly. ‘At last. And it is because I care about him that I must protect him from himself.’
Chapter Forty-Five
Emily had said a tearful farewell to Meg and Joe and she had waved and waved from the ship until the figures on the harbour side were no more than dark specks. Around her waist and beneath her shift she had small bags of gold hidden away. Joe and Benne had cracked open the rock and splintered out several small nuggets. Now she and Philip were taking them to England to be sold.
As she’d stood on the veranda for the last time, a flock of budgerigars flew over, filling the sky with their noisome chatter. She looked up and watched them as like a green and yellow cloud they whirled and spun above them. There would be nothing like these in England, but oh, how she longed to hear the song of the blackbird and the song thrush, to see the bright flash of a kingfisher by the dykes and hear the hoot of a tawny owl from a deep wood.
‘Meg,’ she said, ‘do you remember the Lark?’
Meg looked puzzled for a moment, then her face cleared. ‘When we were in Kingston Street gaol, you mean?’
‘Yes,’ Emily nodded. ‘How beautifully she sang, even though in such a terrible place.’ She took hold of Meg’s hand and said softly, ‘Whenever I hear the skylark’s song I’ll always think of you, Meg.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I shall miss you so much, my dearest friend.’
‘And I’ll never forget you.’ Meg hugged her and wept. ‘You made my life worth living.’
‘Come on, no more tears,’ Joe said gruffly. ‘When you’ve sold ’gold, Emily, you’ll be able to afford to come back and see us.’
She wiped her eyes. Of course. Joe had trusted them with the gold so that they could get the best possible price in England, whilst Mr Clavell was making other discreet enquiries about selling it in Sydney and Melbourne. But she hadn’t quite grasped the notion that she might no longer be poor.
The sea voyage was rough for the first few weeks and they passed through hurricane-force winds and violent storms of lightning and thunder. Yet, as Emily clung to her cot in the cabin which she shared with an officer’s wife, she thought that nothing could ever be so bad again as the journey coming out from England, when she and the other women prisoners had been locked in the forbidding, frightening darkness below decks. When they’d thought that their last hours on earth had come.
When the weather cleared she came up on deck and watched the schools of whales and threw crusts of bread to the albatross and petrels which followed in the ship’s wake. Philip took her ashore in the Canary Islands, where they bought fresh fruit and vegetables to take back on board and she walked in the hot sunshine with a newly purchased parasol over her head and Philip’s arm protectively on hers.
Philip had told her of Roger Francis’s death and it was this above all that had made up her mind that she wanted to return to England. ‘I want to see Mary Edwards,’ she had told him. ‘She’s my kinswoman after all and will be so lost without Mr Francis. If I can be of comfort to her in any way, I will, and I’d also like to see Sam and try to bring them together at last.’
He had nodded and a smile played around his lips and she thought that he was humouring her, but she had worried over Sam quite considerably and wondered what would happen to him without Mr Francis’s protection. They are fond of him at the farm I do believe, she had pondered. But there could come a time when he might not be needed there and would have to look for other employment.
Philip had taken orders to sail on this ship, a slender, four-masted American clipper built for carrying cargo at top speed. ‘I need to earn my living,’ he had told her. ‘I don’t want to live only on my father’s allowance.’
She was puzzled. She had always thought that he was rich, but then he had been compared with her. His family had money, Ginny had told her so. Ginny! How lovely it would be to see her again. But then her mind clouded. What if she should meet Hugo Purnell? She suddenly felt sick. He might have dropped the charges against her, but to be confronted by his arrogant face and overbearing manner would remind her of the torment he had put her through.
Philip called for her to escort her to supper and commented later, as they strolled the deck, on her quiet demeanour. ‘You’re not sorry about going back to England?’ he asked. ‘Are you missing Joe and Meg already?’
She shook her head. ‘I do miss them and little Ralph. No, it’s just that, it’s just that – well going back and starting life over again I realize might be difficult. I want to see Mary and Sam and Ginny, but –’, still she hesitated. Then she blurted out, ‘I’m so afraid of meeting Hugo Purnell again!’
He stopped and looked down at her. A breeze ruffled her hair beneath her bonnet and he moved a wisp from her cheek with gentle fingers. ‘I have an absolute pardon in my pocket. Hugo Purnell is in gaol and has withdrawn his evidence against you. He’s probably still there, for although I removed his debt to me on condition he withdrew the charges, he still owed money all over town.’
‘He’s in gaol?’ she breathed. ‘A gentleman such as him!’
He admonished her. ‘He is not a gentleman, Emily! Your brother Joe is more of a gentleman than Purnell.’
She gazed at him. ‘And the money he owed you, was that the money that was stolen from me when I was bringing it from Mrs Purnell?’ When he affirmed it, she said softly, ‘So I am truly in your debt?’
‘Indeed you are, Emily!’ And as they were alone on the deck, he bent and kissed her, his lips lingering gently on her cheek. ‘However will you repay me?’
Her voice was only a whisper as she replied, ‘I have told you already that I will love you as much as a wife would, is that not repayment enough?’
‘No. It is not! Not without a gold ring on your finger and a ceremony in church.’ Then he added seriously, ‘But perhaps we should wait until the gold is valued. When you are very rich you will have eligible men queuing up at your door.’
‘Now you are teasing me,’ she smiled.
‘Indeed I am not. There are many matters which you will have to consider after we arrive in England. Matters which I am not at liberty to discuss as they were told to me in confidence.’ He kissed her hand, holding it against his lips. ‘You will need to be very sure of your love for me before making any kind of decision.’
She need never know, for he wanted her love not her gratitude, how he had spent his time in England working for her release; of the statement gathered from Alice, who swore that Emily’s child had been stillborn, and that the damaged painting was merely a product from a street artist and not of great value as Purnell had claimed. And
of the sworn statement from Mrs Anderson that her niece had been seduced and abandoned by Purnell and that she too had been threatened violence by him if she didn’t keep her silence. And finally from Mary Edwards, who affirmed that Deborah Purnell had told her that she had been forcibly medicated by her husband and locked in her room. All of this he had gathered to give proof of Purnell’s unreliability, his lies and treacherous behaviour.
They docked in Portsmouth and after staying overnight in an inn to enable Emily to recover from the voyage and buy some warmer clothes, they took a coach to London, where they stayed several days to sell the gold and open bank accounts in the names of Ralph Clavell, Joe Hawkins and Emily. Her eyes opened wide as she saw the amount that was deposited. It was more money than she had ever dreamed existed and as they were ushered out of the bank by the effusive banker, she felt as if she was living in a dream.
‘So what do you want to do now, Emily?’ Philip was amused at her air of bewilderment. ‘Buy new gowns and bonnets? Buy a fine carriage to take you back to Holderness?’
‘I must write straight away to Joe and Meg to tell them,’ she said breathlessly, ‘and I would like to buy something for Mary and for Sam. I wonder what he would like? I can get something pretty for Mary, a shawl or maybe a piece of jewellery. But for Sam? A new suit of clothes – but no, he wouldn’t know when to wear it. A stout walking stick perhaps or some leather boots, yes, those he would appreciate.’
Philip burst out laughing. ‘Oh Emily, you are beyond price. Something for you, I said!’
‘I don’t need anything more.’ She took hold of his hand. ‘I have everything that I ever wanted.’
They travelled by train to Leeds and then hurried from one station to another to catch the train to Hull. It was a tiring, dirty and noisy journey, yet Emily was thrilled as she gazed out of the window and saw the countryside rushing by. She had been delighted when Philip had suggested that they travel by train rather than coach; until he added that for propriety’s sake, railway travel would be more appropriate than the coach.
‘We shall not have the opportunity to be alone on the train,’ he said gravely. ‘We are back in England again, Emily, with all its prejudices and hypocrisies and I have your reputation to think of now that we are travelling north.’
‘But my reputation is shattered.’ There was a note of bitterness in her voice. ‘It was gone for ever even before I was transported!’
‘It will be rebuilt,’ he said quietly, ‘now that you are back home again with a pardon in your possession.’
But where is home? She had pondered this as with a great rush of steam their journey had begun. Do I do as Mary Edwards has done and set up a little shop to occupy me? Or do I buy a house in the country and act out a lady’s life? But no, she sighed. Perhaps not. Who would visit me when they know my reputation? That once I was a servant and a convicted prisoner. And will Philip’s parents ever accept me, or will they disown their son?
She glanced at Philip and he smiled reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry about anything,’ he said. ‘It will all come right.’
He had booked rooms at the Station Hotel in Hull and after Emily had washed and changed from her sooty travelling clothes she went down to the foyer to meet Philip for supper. ‘Is it too late to visit Mary now?’ she asked eagerly. ‘I think she wouldn’t mind, she will be so thrilled to see us.’
‘She won’t be there. She has let the shop to someone else.’
‘Oh! I was so looking forward to seeing her!’ Emily was bitterly disappointed. She had so much to tell her and things to ask too. Important things which would affect her own future.
‘Tomorrow,’ he said firmly. ‘I will take you first thing tomorrow.’
‘But where? Where has she gone?’
He shook his head and smiled in a maddening way and would not be drawn.
They had supper and then called for a hackney carriage to take them to the riverside, where along with others who had come to watch the busy river traffic of steam packets, tugs and ferry boats, they walked to stretch their legs and felt the briskness of the breeze coming in from the sea. Emily drew in a deep breath. She could smell the salt, she could even welcome the smell of the whale blubber and the seed oil. She sighed it out. ‘It’s so good to be back,’ she said gratefully. ‘Especially when I was told that I could never come back. That I was banished for ever.’
He remained silent until she whispered, ‘But I can’t get rid of this feeling that Hugo Purnell is behind me. I won’t ever be able to come into Hull without thinking of him.’
‘I told you that he was in gaol and that is where he will remain for a very long time. You don’t need to be afraid of him!’
‘But I am! I can’t rid myself of his image. He’s like a spectre haunting me!’
He looked down at her. ‘Then we must confront the spectre,’ he said firmly and put up his hand to signal another hackney.
‘Where are we going?’ She was helped in and Philip took his seat beside her.
‘We are going to confront Purnell once and for all! You cannot spend the rest of your life thinking of him. I want you’, he said softly, ‘to think of me sometimes.’
‘But I do,’ she pleaded. ‘Always. But’, she shuddered, ‘he is always there.’
The cab came to a halt. ‘You sure this is where you want to be, sir?’ the cabbie asked. ‘I know some folk come for entertainment, but it’s not a suitable place for your lady.’
Philip nodded in agreement and asked him to wait for them and as Emily got down she trembled and shook. ‘Not here, Philip! Not here. I can’t go in!’ In front of her, its walls as forbidding as ever, was the Kingston Street gaol.
He took hold of her arm and firmly propelled her towards the octagonal building. ‘You must, or Purnell will always hold you fast.’
Two wards were kept for debtors, one for male and one for female, and as Emily took reluctant, dragging steps down the corridor to the male cells, she was reminded forcibly of her time spent incarcerated deep in the depths of one of the other buildings.
‘This fellow doesn’t get many visitors.’ The warder rattled his keys as he led the way. ‘He did at first. Some of his friends were very curious to see him locked up. They used to give him a shilling or two, but he was very abusive so they stopped coming. Purnell!’ he shouted. ‘Purnell! Visitors for you.’
Emily clung to Philip as she looked over the crowd of men in the communal cell, but couldn’t recognize the tall figure of the man who had so humiliated and debased her. The men in here were bent and sullen looking and simply looked up in a desultory fashion as Purnell’s name was called.
A man in a dirty old coat got up from the floor and shuffled towards them. ‘Who wants him?’ he whined. ‘Have you brought some liquor – or money?’
‘It’s Purnell we want, old man,’ Philip said. ‘Can you point him out?’
The prisoner looked from Philip to Emily, then back to Philip again. His face was grey and lined, his hair long and unkempt. He narrowed his red-rimmed eyes. ‘I know you,’ he said hoarsely. ‘What’s your name? I went to school with you.’ He clutched the bars of the cell. ‘Don’t you remember?’
Philip stood back from the stench of him. ‘Purnell! Is it you?’
Emily was horrified. This was never Hugo Purnell! This shabby, uncombed, dishevelled figure was not the figure who had haunted her sleep.
‘’Course it’s me!’ Purnell snarled. ‘Come to gloat have you? None of my friends come any more, so why have you come? What’s your name? I can’t remember.’
‘Linton,’ Philip reminded him. ‘I came to see you about a year ago.’
‘Ah,’ Purnell said vaguely, his mood changing. ‘Yes. So you did. What was it about? Something about a servant girl? Do I still owe you money?’
‘Not any more, the debt was repaid.’
‘Was it? Hah! You were lucky then. Nobody else’s has been. I get letters every day asking me to pay.’ His face flushed and he became angry again. ‘How do they
expect me to pay from in this hell hole, I ask you? I’ve got to work to pay for my keep in here, you know! I’ve been on the treadmill, I’ve ground up whiting.’ He showed his hands, which were ingrained with dirt and lined with white powder. His mouth worked and trembled. ‘But I can’t do it, old fellow. I’m not cut out for it, you know.’ His head drooped and he put his hand to his eyes. ‘Now I sweep out the cells, sweep up other people’s filth.’
Philip and Emily were both silent and Emily pressed her hand to her mouth and closed her eyes tightly. She fought hard not to feel sorry for him. Remember, she deliberated, what he did to you, how he made you suffer.
Purnell lifted his head. ‘So why have you come, Linton? And who’s the lady? Your wife?’
‘Er, yes,’ Philip agreed cautiously.
Purnell stared at Emily. ‘Well, you’re a very lucky dog, Linton, but then you always were! I’m delighted to meet you ma’am – delighted.’ Some of his old charisma returned and it was obvious that he didn’t recognize Emily. He turned his gaze to Philip. ‘You’re the only one who ever comes you know. Nobody else does. My wife left me and so did my mother. None of my friends come. They’ve all left me to rot.’
Emily stifled a sob. How often she had wished that bitter thought on him, and Meg too had many times voiced the hope that he would rot in hell, for it was indirectly because of him that she too was transported.
‘Is there anything you need, Purnell?’ Philip asked. ‘Food? Blankets?’
Purnell shook his head. ‘Nothing, except a bottle of whisky maybe. There’s nothing else that can ease the misery or the humiliation.’
Emily spoke softly. ‘Do you ever think of why you are here? Of the events which brought you here?’
He stared at her blankly. ‘It was something to do with owing money, I think. I kept borrowing I suppose and not paying back.’
He doesn’t even remember me, Emily thought bitterly. After all I went through and he doesn’t remember, therefore he can’t feel any remorse.