Where Seagulls Soar

by Janet Woods

  Irene scooped him up and they all held each other tight, the sight causing tears to form in Joanna’s eyes, making her feel like an outsider. Then Oliver smiled at her over their heads. ‘I’d forgotten how much like Alex my nephew is. Will you spare a hug for your brother-in-law, too, Joanna?’

  Oliver’s ribs were a bony spread under his jacket, his face was gaunt in a way that spoke of hunger and hardship. She said, feeling sorry for him as they drew apart, ‘Welcome back, Oliver. You’re just in time for dinner.’

  His smile contained a twist of wryness. ‘There’s not enough meat left on me for a cannibal to enjoy, I’m afraid.’

  At least he could still joke about it.

  Irene hooked her arm through his. ‘We’ll soon fatten you up, dearest Ollie. Will you settle for mutton stew and dumplings? I made it myself.’

  He gazed at her with a mixture of amazement and admiration. ‘You made it? I didn’t know you could cook. It smells delicious.’

  ‘Joanna taught us to cook. I can make bread, as well.’

  ‘I made the apple pie,’ Lydia said proudly, competing for his attention.

  ‘Better and better, since apple pie is my favourite. The pair of you look wonderful . . . just wonderful.’ He gazed at them, his eyes moist, and had to clear his throat before he could speak. ‘There are several things I must discuss with you, and not all of it is pleasant.’

  ‘Any news you have can wait until after dinner,’ Joanna said firmly. ‘We must sort out somewhere for you to sleep.’

  Irene smiled at her sister. ‘He can have our room, and we’ll move upstairs. Otherwise, he won’t be able to stand upright without thumping his head on the ceiling. Just keep things out of Toby’s reach, Ollie, since he’s developed a light-fingered trait recently.’

  To prove her point, Toby snatched at a tarnished button on Oliver’s coat.

  Oliver shrugged when the material tore. ‘Aren’t you rather taking things for granted? You are both guests here yourself.’

  There was a short silence after the reminder, in which the girls turned to gaze at Joanna.

  She said firmly, ‘Your sisters are part of the household and are at liberty to invite you to join us, Oliver. You’re welcome to stay. We share the work at home, and we pool most of the money we earn, so an extra pair of hands will be welcome.’

  ‘I haven’t got a job to go to.’

  ‘But you can catch a fish, or dig over the garden patch, which will ease the workload for us, so don’t think you’ve got nothing to contribute. Now, let’s go and eat. Then I’ll put Toby to bed and go and visit Tilda while you talk things over with your sisters.’

  An hour later, Joanna wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and slipped from the house. Taking a quick, precautionary look around, she headed up towards the church, and the fine house Tilda’s husband had inherited.

  Although it was almost dark she stopped at the graves of Anna and Joseph Rushmore, the couple who’d raised her with so much love. Even though the lie had been proved, she couldn’t find it in her heart to blame them for taking her under their roof and bringing her up as their own. As her fingers ran over the rough, weathered stone of the markers she thought she could hear their voices sighing in the wind that flattened the tough grass.

  My princess, her pa had always called her when a glass of contraband brandy had warmed the cockles of his heart and loosened his tongue. Your cradle came floating in on the storm-tossed sea. A seagull had swallowed the spirit of a drowned seaman and perched on the prow of your little craft, guiding you safely to shore. ’Twas the Master of the Cormorant, I reckon . . . him who was named Lucian Morcant.

  ‘And you were probably right, Pa, for my link to the Morcant and Darsham families is now indisputable,’ she whispered. ‘But knowing how many ships were wrecked off the Portland coast in the storms of thirty-eight and how many good men died while my own insignificant life was spared is of no comfort to me at all. Everything I sought to claim turned to ashes in my hands. You should have named me Jonah, not Joanna.’

  And she seemed to hear her ma’s scornful snort, as if she’d been alive and standing right next to her. ‘I taught you better than that, Joanna Rose. Life’s not going to stop still for the likes of you. Don’t mope about what’s past. Live with the present and put a bit aside for the future, for a body never knows what surprises it holds.’

  Joanna’s snort rivalled the late Anna Rushmore’s as Seth Adams came into her mind. But the womanly core of her responded with a favourable warmth. ‘How could I ever trust a man as devious as him?’ she said out loud.

  There was a sudden burst of laughter as the door to an inn in the street below opened. Light spilled out as a man went inside, followed by his dog. It would be nice having a man in the house, Joanna thought, but the mild-mannered Oliver would be no match for someone like Bisley.

  The thought of Lord Durrington’s valet made her shudder. Tension filled her. The wind became a sinister whisper and shadows shifted furtively within shadows, as if Bisley were watching her, waiting for his chance to strike. Pulling her shawl closer, she shivered and hurried towards the welcoming light of the Lind house.

  She could see Tilda through the window, her head bent over a child’s gown she was stitching, her needle drawing cotton through the fabric as she joined hem to skirt. She looked up and smiled when Joanna tapped on the window pane, rising to open the door.

  Tilda was gaining a little weight, Joanna thought, but her face had a drawn look to it, as if she wasn’t sleeping well.

  They exchanged a hug.

  Apart from a few female touches such as embroidered cushions, the house was exactly the same as it had been when Joanna had worked there as housekeeper for David’s uncle.

  Of David there was no sign. ‘He has a meeting with the church wardens,’ Tilda told her. ‘They’re concerned because they’re losing congregation to the methodists.’

  ‘Why should that be of concern? It’s the same God they worship. The methodists have some fine preachers, I believe.’

  ‘David’s a fine preacher too. People always say so.’

  ‘Especially his wife,’ Joanna teased.

  Unexpectedly, Tilda went on the defensive. ‘You should come to church and listen to him preach. He could do with your support, and we need the money that the collection brings in.’

  ‘Then I shall. I’ll make sure the girls come with me, and Oliver, as well.

  ‘Oliver?’

  ‘Oliver Morcant. He’s back from overseas. The poor man is so dreadfully thin, Tilda. He’s been looking for work in London, and it’s obvious he hasn’t had enough to eat for weeks. It will be nice to have a man about the house.’

  Tilda gave her a sharp look. ‘He’s staying in the cottage with you?’

  ‘Of course. He has nowhere else to go.’

  ‘Are you sure it’s wise?’

  Exasperated, Joanna said, ‘Tilda Lind, I’m going to box your ears for you if you don’t stop being so prim. The girls are moving upstairs into the rooms you and I used to sleep in, and Oliver will have the downstairs sitting room. Why do you insist on thinking so ill of me?’

  Tilda looked slightly ashamed of herself. ‘I don’t. It’s just . . . people comment.’

  ‘Gossip, you mean. Who’s saying this, David’s parents and brother?’

  She didn’t answer. ‘All the same, it doesn’t seem right, you giving a home to a man. He’s not even from these parts.’

  ‘For goodness sake, he’s my brother-in-law, and Toby’s uncle. I’m a widow with a young son to raise.’

  ‘David told me that marriage vows said before a ship’s master aren’t legal unless the marriage is registered in a church.’

  In the silence that followed, Joanna sucked in a deep, slow breath. Then she rose to her feet. ‘You seem to have something on your mind, Tilda. Let’s get it out in the open.’

  Tilda stood up too, her face flushing, her arms folded over her chest. ‘You weren’t married to that first man either, we
re you?’

  ‘Of course I was. I stood in the church and exchanged my vows in front of Reverend Quinby, his wife, Richard Lind and Doctor Scutts.’

  ‘All of whom are no longer around to confirm it.’

  Tilda, her mouth pursed and a disbelieving look in her eyes, had never resembled her mother more.

  ‘Oh, Tilda, don’t look at me like that, as if you think I’m lying.’

  ‘Aren’t you? I was helping Mrs Abernathy to sort out the church records last week. There’s no record of a marriage to Tobias Darsham.’

  Hurt jolted through Joanna like a bolt of lightning. ‘You must have overlooked it.’

  ‘No, I didn’t. Admit it, it was a tale you made up, and it fooled everyone.’

  ‘Tobias Darsham was good to you,’ she reminded Tilda. ‘If it hadn’t been for him you’d be—’

  ‘Dead. I know. You don’t have to remind me. All my life I walked in your shadow and lived for a kind word from you and your folks.’ Her face suddenly suffused with colour and her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Poor Tilda Rushmore, they said.’

  Joanna wasn’t about to let Tilda sink into self pity. ‘I never thought to hear you say such awful things, Tilda. I loved you like a sister. I still do.’

  ‘But I wasn’t your sister.’ Tilda bit back a sob. ‘Did you think I enjoyed living off your charity?’

  Joanna stared at her, shocked rigid, for Tilda seemed hell bent on getting it all out of her.

  ‘My charity? Good God, I was just a child.’

  ‘What sort of person are you, Joanna? You’ve lived in sin with two men, given birth to an illegitimate child and have men coming and going from your house at all hours. People like Lord Durrington, with his vile reputation, and some other man from London. You should be ashamed of yourself.’

  ‘Don’t go on, Tilda, I beg you.’

  ‘Do you deny you’ve been entertaining men?’

  Taking Tilda by the elbows Joanna stared at her in perplexity, wondering what had brought this sudden outburst on. ‘Lord Durrington entered my home with his servant while I was out. He’s Toby’s grandfather. He wants my son and he threatened me.’

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘The other man is called Seth Adams. He’s an agent of enquiry who was working for Durrington at the time. But now he’s not, and that’s what he came to tell me the last time he was here.’

  ‘I didn’t know,’ Tilda said, her eyes filling with tears. ‘You never seem to confide in me any more.’

  ‘I didn’t tell you about Durrington because I didn’t want to worry you. The girls and I are doing the best we can to survive. Have you forgotten how hard it is to earn your bread here? I can’t get up on a pulpit, preach, then pass the hat around like a street performer.’

  ‘It’s not a hat, it’s a plate.’ Tilda gave a small giggle at the image Joanna had conjured up, then she sighed. ‘I’ve hardly seen anything of you since those girls moved in.’

  Joanna hadn’t considered that Tilda might be jealous. ‘You mustn’t envy them, Tilda. They’re wonderful girls, who are learning to cope in the best way they can. They’re so grateful you’re going to teach painting to their pupils, and their offhand manner simply disguises the hurt they feel at being abandoned by their relatives. Surely you can understand that.’

  ‘And your marriages? Tell me they were not lies.’

  ‘You’ve already made up your mind that they were,’ Joanna said quietly. ‘It’s not up to me to try and persuade you otherwise. If the records are missing, that’s not my fault. You know how absent-minded Reverend Quinby was, perhaps he never recorded the marriage. To be honest, I never thought you’d listen to island gossip, or seek to pry into my private life. I’m surprised David can’t find more charity in his soul. At the moment, I’m beginning to think the pair of you are a better match for each other than I first thought. His uncle Richard Lind certainly wouldn’t have approved of this from either of you. Goodnight, Tilda. I don’t want to hear any more.’

  A stricken look came to Tilda’s face as she whispered, ‘Don’t go. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. And it wasn’t David who was gossiping. He hasn’t got a bad word to say about anyone. It was Mrs Abernathy. She heads the church ladies’ committee. She said there were no records of anything concerning you, as if you don’t exist . . . and as if she wasn’t a damned Kimberlin herself.’

  ‘And you believed her.’ Close to tears and sick at heart, Joanna turned away from her childhood friend.

  Tilda’s voice sounded forlorn. ‘Please don’t leave, Joanna. I don’t want us to squabble.’

  ‘We already have squabbled.’

  ‘I’ve said I’m sorry. I think I’m ill and I’m scared. I’ve been feeling wretched, lately.’

  Joanna turned, her voice a whiplash. ‘What ails you, apart from a nasty disposition? You’re acting as though you’ve swallowed a nest of wasps.’

  ‘I just feel out of sorts,’ Tilda said, biting back a sob. ‘I’m tired and I’m often sick.’

  So this was what all the bitterness had stemmed from. ‘What about your menses?’

  ‘I haven’t bled much for several mon—’

  The two women stared at each other for a moment, then Tilda burst into tears. ‘It can’t be that. It’s not possible.’

  ‘If you’re having normal relations with your husband it’s entirely possible.’

  ‘But we’ve been married for three years and David and I thought it was unlikely because of . . . well, you know. My brothers’ sins against me. And now David wants me to visit my mother. He said that because she is my mother it’s my duty. He just can’t understand how awful she was. I shan’t visit her. I told him he was too gullible and he got upset and went out without eating his dinner.’

  ‘For pity’s sake stop allowing what happened in the past to govern your life, Tilda. You have to learn to live with what can’t be changed. Mop up those damned tears of yours and try to smile.’

  There was a tentative stretch of the lips, then Tilda gave a trembling smile. ‘It would be so wonderful if it were true. Oh, Joanna, I hate myself for what I said to you, since you’ve never been anything but kind to me.’

  ‘That’s probably because I love you, you ninny.’ Joanna gave a reluctant laugh. ‘Well, normally I’m fond of you, but at the moment I feel angry enough to rip your hair out by the roots if you just look at me the wrong way again.’

  Tilda gave a nervous giggle.

  Closing the gap between them Joanna gave her friend a brief hug. ‘Go and put the kettle on, we’ll have a gossip over a cup of tea and pretend this didn’t happen, though you can tell me what that cat Mrs Abernathy said. And don’t let her bully you on that committee either. She’s got no right to go poking about in other people’s business. You’re the rector’s wife. If I was you I’d have a lock put on those records, and let her know why. For all we know she might have destroyed the records herself, just to make mischief.’

  Tilda’s eyes widened. ‘I’ll talk to David about it.’

  ‘If you can stand up to me, you can do the same to her. And don’t tell her anything private, like Grace’s background, else she’ll be making her life a misery next with her slanderous gossip. And tomorrow you’d better get yourself to the doctor. Now I’ve said that I’ll stop being bossy.’

  There was a smile edging across Tilda’s face now. ‘What if it’s not what you think?’

  ‘Then you’ll have to learn to live with it, the same as everyone else.’ Joanna grinned. ‘But I bet you the loan of my cradle that you’re carrying an infant inside you.’

  Eyes widening, Tilda gazed at her. ‘Your cradle? But it’s so precious to you.’

  ‘So are you, Tilda dear, and don’t you ever forget it.’

  Oliver couldn’t believe the change in his sisters. Gone were the slightly hysterical and pretentious creatures he’d always known. Two lovely and capable girls had emerged. ‘Joanna has wrought miracles with you,’ he told them, at which Lydia laughed.

  ‘It
was a question of survival.’

  Irene shook her head. ‘We were so useless to begin with, Joanna must have thought we were a couple of idiots. We’ve learned so much from her, and it’s been such fun, except . . .’

  The twins exchanged a glance, then Lydia took over the conversation with, ‘Lord Durrington came here with his horrible servant, Bisley. He demanded that he be given custody of Toby.’

  ‘Toby? What for?’

  ‘He needs an heir, and Toby is his grandchild on account of Alex having been his son.’

  Shock registered in Oliver’s brain. ‘I didn’t realize you knew about that particular family secret.’

  ‘Oh, we’ve always known about it. Remember that dinner in London when Alex threw something in Elijah Morcant’s soup and stormed off. Then the old man went blue in the face and died? That’s when we found out.’

  ‘Yes, I remember. You were just children.’

  ‘Alex was so brave,’ Irene said wistfully. ‘He was the only one who stood up to mother on our behalf. We miss him so much. And Lord Durrington will have to kill us all before he can have Toby. We keep a good watch out for them and we never leave Toby alone, just in case.

  Oliver was wondering how he should break the news to them about their mother’s death when Lydia said, ‘Did our mother die peacefully?’

  ‘Yes. She had her medicine.’

  ‘Opium, I expect. She was addicted to it. We used to make it for her. Two ounces of opium, one of saffron and a finely ground clove, dissolved in wine. She used to sip at it all day.’

  Oliver gazed from one to the other, surprised by their calm acceptance of the event.

  Lydia said, ‘I expect the Nash family were pleased. They despised her. They didn’t like us much, either. Aunt Agatha was the only one who was civil to us.’

  ‘Agatha Nash has settled some money on you. Not a great deal, you understand, just something for the future, in case you need it. I’ve placed it in a trust account, and it will provide you with a modest income once it starts earning interest.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Ollie, dear, we’ve learned to economize. You should have spent some of that money on food for yourself. You’re so dreadfully thin.’