The Winter Promise

by Rosie Goodwin

  The captain and the doctor had been standing to one side of him, deep in conversation – but now the doctor approached him to say, ‘Right, lad. I have people I need to see. Stay put and I’ll see you later this evening.’ Then he too went down the gangplank and disappeared amongst the people thronging the quay.

  Charlie had no idea how long he stood there, but eventually the people wandered away and he returned to the infirmary to wait for the doctor’s return. Just for a moment, he was tempted to make a run for it – after all who would notice him in the melee of people swarming on the dock? But he dismissed the idea. The doctor had trusted him and Charlie would not betray the trust.

  Much later that evening, Charlie stood on deck staring up at the sky. It was a beautiful, balmy night, and the black velvet sky was dotted with stars – far more, he was sure, than he had ever glimpsed back at home.

  ‘All right, lad?’ Doctor Hardy’s cheery voice made him look round, and Charlie was amused to see that he looked quite merry and his hat was askew. ‘I’ve got some good news for you. I had a word to the governor – he’s a good friend of mine, as it happens – and he’s agreed to give you a trial working for him.’

  Charlie’s heart raced with excitement. ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Hm!’ The doctor scratched his head, dislodging his hat even further. ‘I dare say you’ll be what might be described as “a jack of all trades”! You’ll run errands, tend the grounds – do whatever he asks of you, really. So how does that sound? I’ll tell you now, if you keep your nose clean you’ll have it cushy.’

  ‘It sounds excellent, sir. Thank you.’ Charlie beamed at the doctor.

  ‘The governor, Phineas Morgan, is a good man; firm but fair,’ the doctor told him. ‘And his wife is a lovely lady, so are his two daughters. I’ll take you there first thing in the morning and you can get settled in.’

  Charlie felt a lump form in his throat. ‘I’ll never be able to thank you enough,’ he said quietly. ‘If it wasn’t for the captain’s intervention and the care you gave me after I was whipped, I might not even be here now.’

  ‘Oh, get away with you.’ The doctor grinned. ‘But now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to turn in. I’ve had a bit too much wine tonight, I’m afraid, and it’s been a busy day. Goodnight, lad.’

  ‘Goodnight, sir.’ Charlie watched with amusement as the man went unsteadily to his cabin. Then he leaned on the railings again, letting the peace and quiet wash over him. They had finally arrived at their destination and, for better or worse, this place would be his home for the next seven years, so he may as well make the best of it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘That’s right, arms to your side, head steady . . . turn . . . and walk!’

  Opal felt ridiculous as she slowly turned, a book wobbling on the top of her head, to walk back to Mrs King. But it was no good, as seconds later the novel crashed to the floor yet again.

  The old lady shook her head. ‘Pick it up and try again. You know what they say – “practice makes perfect” – and deportment is so important for a young lady.’

  Opal sighed as she did as she was told. It seemed that there was so much to learn if one was to become a lady, but she wondered how all these lessons could possibly benefit her. After all, she was only a companion to an old lady, so where would she go to practise such skills? But she was keen to please, so she continued until at last Belle appeared at the door with the afternoon tea trolley. She grinned fleetingly when she saw Opal wobbling along, before asking the old woman, ‘Is there anything else, Mrs King? And would you like me to pour for you?’

  ‘No, why should one have a dog and bark oneself?’ she snapped, nodding towards Opal who had removed the heavy book and was rubbing the top of her head.

  Belle dipped her knee and discreetly left the room, as Opal hurried over to pour the tea for her mistress.

  ‘Oh . . . I forgot to mention,’ the old lady said. ‘My son will be dining with us this evening, so make yourself look respectable. Esther and Dorothy Partridge will also be joining us, so it should be a good evening. And it will give me a chance to see how your lessons in table manners are paying off.’

  Opal’s heart sank. She well remembered the Partridges and, if she were to be honest, she wasn’t particularly fond of either of them, especially the daughter. But still, she told herself, I’m here to obey and obey I will – for now at least.

  She poured the tea and then she helped Mrs King to her room, where she would rest until it was time to change for dinner. When it was just the two of them, she sometimes didn’t bother, but she was a stickler for dressing up if they were expecting visitors.

  ‘Is there anything I can get for you?’ Opal asked, when she had helped the old lady on to the bed and placed a woollen blanket across her.

  ‘No, just make sure you have all my clothes laid out ready for dinner. I shall wear the dark-purple satin gown this evening.’

  Opal nodded, before quietly leaving the room to go and have a little time with Belle – if the other girl wasn’t too busy. She enjoyed their chats, and because they were very close in age they had grown fond of one another. Belle had told her all about her home life. Her family lived in Attleborough, in a small cottage that was bursting at the seams – for she had six siblings all younger than herself. Her father was a gravedigger at Chilvers Coton church, and when there were no graves to be dug, which was rarely, he tended the churchyard. Her mother took in washing and ironing, so their combined wages plus what Belle gave them out of her own money enabled them to live frugally. From the way she spoke of them, Opal had the impression that they were a happy family, and she felt envious of her.

  For the first time in her life, Opal never had to worry about going hungry, she had a beautiful room all to herself, and was wearing clothes the like of which she had never thought she would own – but she would have given it all up in a sigh if things could only have gone back to what they had once been. Of course, she realised that this could never be, but hearing Belle speak of her family only made Opal all the more determined to be reunited with Charlie and Susie, for they were all she had left. It was this determination that made her get up each day and suffer her mistress’s demands – although, in fairness, just as Henry King had told her, she had soon discovered that beneath her frosty exterior Mrs King wasn’t so bad.

  When she got downstairs, she found that Belle and the rest of the staff were almost run off their feet preparing for their visitors, so she asked Cook, ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

  ‘Yes, you can lay the table in the dining room wi’ the best cloth an’ the silver cutlery,’ the red-faced woman answered.

  ‘I’d better do that,’ Belle butted in good-naturedly. ‘Opal laid out fish forks instead of dinner forks the other day when she was having a lesson off Mrs King on how to lay a formal table for three courses, and I don’t think the mistress would be too pleased if everythin’ weren’t just so this evenin’ with the Partridges comin’.’

  Opal blushed. ‘Perhaps I could peel those Brussel sprouts then, I’ve got a bit of spare time before I have to help Mrs King get dressed.’

  When Cook handed her a knife, Opal sat down and got started, only too happy to let Belle set the table.

  At last everything appeared to be under control, and Cook dropped thankfully into the chair at the side of the fire, lifting her feet on to a small stool.

  ‘Make a cup o’ tea, ducks,’ she ordered the little kitchen maid. ‘Me throat’s as dry as the bottom of a birdcage. Why the mistress should insist on such fancy menus when we have company I’ll never know. That duck ’as been cookin’ slow all afternoon an’ it still ain’t quite done. Still, everythin’s about ready now so I’m goin’ to take the weight off me feet fer a few minutes. Me poor ankles are swellin’ somethin’ terrible.’

  ‘I’d better go and help Mrs King get dressed or I won’t have time to get changed myself,’ Opal said, glancing at the clock.

  ‘Are yer wearin’ that l
ovely blue gown?’ Belle asked eagerly. She and Belle had drooled over her new dresses when they had first been delivered, but the blue satin one was their favourite and Opal couldn’t wait to wear it.

  Opal shook her head. ‘No, Mrs King thought it might be too grand to wear for dining at home,’ she answered. ‘And I think she’s right. To be honest, I can’t see me ever getting to wear it.’

  ‘You will,’ Belle told her, before hurrying away to place the large vase of flowers the florist had just delivered in the centre of the table.

  Once Opal had helped her mistress to change, she walked her down the stairs and left her in the drawing room with a small glass of sherry as she awaited her guests’ arrival, while Opal hurried back upstairs to get herself dressed. The navy dress fitted perfectly and Opal twizzled in front of the mirror as she admired it. But time was moving on, so she brushed her hair until it shone, twisted it into a long gleaming plait and hurried back down the stairs just as Belle was admitting Henry.

  ‘Good evening, Miss Sharp.’ His eyes raked her up and down approvingly, as he handed Belle his hat and coat. ‘May I say you are looking most charming this evening?’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ Opal bobbed her knee as she felt colour rise in her cheeks. ‘Your mother is in the drawing room waiting for you.’

  He nodded and made for the door as Belle winked at Opal. ‘I reckon he’s got his eye on you,’ she whispered and Opal frowned.

  ‘Don’t be so silly,’ she retaliated. ‘What would a man like him want with the likes of me? If you must know I think Miss Partridge has her eye set on him.’

  Belle smothered a giggle with her hand. ‘That dowdy old spinster! You must be joking. Henry King wouldn’t touch her with a bargepole, you just mark my words. He likes ’em young.’

  And with that she waltzed off, with a cheeky grin on her face.

  Soon after, Miss and Mrs Partridge arrived, and after showing them into the drawing room, Opal discreetly stood behind her mistress’s chair, as she had been advised to do. She was actually glad to remove herself from standing next to Esther Partridge as she reeked of so much perfume that it was making Opal’s eyes water. Her gown did nothing to flatter her either. In a bright-green satin, it clung to her, emphasising every ample curve, and it was so low cut that at times when she leaned towards Henry, Opal feared that her enormous breasts were going to spill out of it. Her cheeks were heavily rouged, making her look like a china doll that Opal had once seen in the toy shop window in the town, and from the moment she arrived she studiously ignored Opal and turned her whole attention on Henry.

  ‘Is that a new waistcoat you are wearing, Henry, dear?’ she purred, as she reached out to stroke it.

  Henry frowned. ‘Actually, I have had this one for some time,’ he answered, looking mildly embarrassed.

  ‘Well, it suits you very well. I must remember and buy you something that exact colour for Christmas,’ Esther simpered.

  Henry was saved from further embarrassment when Belle appeared at the door to tell them that dinner was ready to be served.

  Henry took his mother’s arm to escort her into the dining room, much to Esther’s obvious chagrin, but she wasn’t about to let him escape that easily. Once he was seated, she almost leaped into the seat next to him.

  Belle served them each with the tiny triangles of toast and the duck liver pate that Cook had been slaving over, and once that was done she discreetly took her leave. Esther attacked her food with vigour and cleared her plate in seconds and Opal had to suppress a smile. So much for Mrs King telling her that a lady should always eat daintily and leave a little on her plate.

  Cook’s main course of duck à l’ orange was a great success and the meat was so tender that Opal’s knife sliced through it like butter. Unfortunately, though, the overpowering scent of the hot house flowers on the table and Esther’s heavy French perfume was so cloying that Opal began to feel slightly queasy and she could hardly eat a thing.

  ‘Is the meal not to your liking, my dear?’ Henry asked with concern.

  She smiled at him, which earned her a glare from Esther, and dabbed at her lips with the snow-white napkin. ‘Oh no, it isn’t that. It’s quite delicious, but I’m not very hungry, thank you.’

  ‘I hope you are not feeling unwell?’

  Opal avoided glancing at Esther who was scowling at her and looking as if she was capable of murder.

  ‘No, I’m feeling quite well, thank you.’

  Mrs Partridge broke the uncomfortable silence when she hurriedly chipped in, ‘Esther has joined the church choir. Of course, they are thrilled to have her, she has the voice of an angel.’

  ‘Oh Mama, stop it, you’ll make me blush,’ Esther simpered, as she glanced at Henry coquettishly, fluttering her eyelashes.

  He, however, pointedly ignored the remark as he told Opal, ‘I wonder you don’t consider doing something like that, Miss Sharp. I’m sure my mother would be more than happy to give you time off if you wished to take up a hobby.’

  Esther looked so angry that Opal feared she was about to erupt as she answered hastily, ‘That’s very kind of you, but I’m quite happy to stay here with Mrs King.’

  ‘A very wise decision,’ Esther said spitefully. ‘The vicar is very careful about what type of people join his choir and of course they have to have excellent voices. Have you ever had any training in that direction, Miss Sharp?’

  Opal felt colour flood into her cheeks. ‘No, I’m afraid not,’ she answered with her chin in the air. Things were becoming uncomfortable, and she longed to leave the table. She would have much preferred to eat in the kitchen with the staff.

  ‘I thought not!’ Esther sat back, with a smug grin on her face.

  Mrs King looked towards Opal. ‘You may be excused if you’re not hungry,’ she said quietly and Opal was so relieved she could have kissed her.

  ‘Thank you, I will.’ She rose gracefully. ‘Excuse me,’ she said politely. And she was off like a hare in the direction of the kitchen, completely unaware of the way Henry’s eyes followed her.

  ‘Is sommat not right wi’ the meal?’ Cook asked with alarm when Opal appeared.

  ‘The meal is wonderful,’ Opal assured her. ‘But Miss Partridge obviously didn’t want a servant sitting at the table with her, so Mrs King kindly excused me.’

  ‘Stuck-up little trollop,’ Cook snorted. ‘It’s no wonder she’s been left on the shelf. She’s got a face on her that’s enough to turn any man’s stomach. But never mind, yer can eat in here wi’ us if you’ve a mind to.’

  With a grateful smile, Opal joined the staff at the table feeling decidedly more comfortable than she had in the dining room.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘Are you our new gardener?’

  Charlie glanced up from the flowerbed he was weeding and found himself looking into the bluest pair of eyes he had ever seen. For no reason that he could explain his heart missed a beat, and he was suddenly all of a fluster.

  ‘No . . . yes . . . Well, actually the governor has kindly given me a job as a sort of jack of all trades.’

  ‘I see.’ The girl smiled at him. Then, without a qualm, she held her hand out. ‘I’m Francesca. The governor is my father. And that’s my sister Juliet over there.’

  Charlie self-consciously wiped his grubby hand down the leg of his trousers before tentatively taking her hand and giving it a brief shake. Then, looking to the side, he saw a slightly younger girl plucking some roses from a bush. They were both quite beautiful, with dark skin and hair that gave them a slightly exotic look.

  As if she could read what he was thinking, Francesca suddenly told him, ‘Our mother is Spanish, did you know?’

  ‘Er . . . no, no I didn’t.’ He was finding it hard to take his eyes off her, as she carelessly twirled the parasol she was holding across one slender shoulder. She was dressed in a beautiful gown with a full skirt that was embroidered with tiny flowers and she grinned as she confided, ‘Mummy insists that I should take this thing ev
ery time I go outside.’ She was referring to the parasol. ‘She says that too much sun isn’t good for a young lady’s skin. But how can you avoid being in the sun living here?’

  Charlie had no idea how to reply and gulped, feeling suddenly very dirty and clumsy.

  ‘What’s your name anyway?’ she asked with a smile that left him breathless.

  ‘It’s Charlie . . . Charlie Sharp.’

  ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Charlie Sharp. How old are you?’

  ‘I just turned sixteen.’

  ‘Really? What a coincidence. So have I, just last week.’

  ‘In that case, happy birthday for last week,’ he answered with a shy smile. She might be the governor’s daughter, but she had no airs and graces about her and he felt himself begin to relax a little.

  Just then, a stunningly beautiful woman entered the garden and, seeing Francesca, she wandered over to her. She too held a pretty lace-trimmed parasol that matched the soft green of her dress. She was tall and slim, with eyes that were the same startling blue as her daughter’s and gleaming jet-black hair that hung down her back like a silken cloak. It reminded him of Opal’s hair.

  ‘Ah, so you must be the young man my husband told me about. Charlie, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ Charlie answered.

  ‘The doctor and the captain were full of praise for you when they dined with us,’ the woman said, and suddenly realising that she hadn’t properly introduced herself, she smiled. ‘I am Isabella Morgan, the governor’s wife and Francesca and Juliet’s mother. It is very nice to meet you, Charlie.’ Her voice had a slight foreign ring to it and Charlie warmed to her immediately. ‘So how are you liking Australia?’