To Turn Full Circle

by Linda Mitchelmore

  Emma shivered. She could hardly believe it herself. She still hankered after working – and living – at Nase Head House but only if she could continue to cook. But would Nase Head House want two cooks?

  However, before she could work out the feasibility of such a situation she would go and see Seth, certain now it was he who had had the tablets made. She could wait a little longer to buy her new clothes.

  She ran from the cemetery, up the steep alleys that led to the Jago household. She hadn’t been there since the time she’d opened the bag of her mama’s things that Matthew had given her and found the amethyst necklace. And she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to be going there now, but if Seth wasn’t in then she would leave a message to say she wanted to see him. Ask for him to meet her at Crystal Cove so she could thank him in person. She hadn’t seen him in ages, and she missed him

  Emma slowed her step, took a deep breath and – head held high – she walked up the front drive of Hilltop House and knocked on the door.

  Beattie Drew answered. ‘Well, if it isn’t our Emma, turned up like a bad penny. You’m not wanting to come back, I hope, lovie.’

  ‘No, no,’ Emma said – perish the thought. ‘I’d like to see Seth. Is he in?’

  ‘He’s not. And even if he was you couldn’t see him. Not here, that is, though you can see him any other place you like. The thing is, lovie, Mr Jago Senior said you were never to darken his door again, see. And it would be more than my life’s worth to …’

  ‘Who is it Mrs Drew?’ Carter Jago came striding down the hall.

  ‘Emma Le Goff. Come to see Seth,’ Mrs Drew said. She stood between Carter and Emma as though sensing trouble. But Carter Jago was all smiles.

  ‘Is it now? I can’t think why she would want to see my baby brother, but she’d better come in. Step aside, Mrs Drew.’

  ‘But Mr Jago said …’ Mrs Drew began.

  ‘My father isn’t here. And what he doesn’t see can’t hurt him. Now step aside, Mrs Drew.’

  Mrs Drew did as she was told, and Carter Jago extended a hand towards Emma, beckoning her in.

  ‘In the drawing-room, I think.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so. I …’

  ‘Nonsense. You can tell me whatever it is you want to tell my baby brother and I’ll pass the message on. I promise.’

  ‘I could come back,’ Emma said, bridling at the derogatory way Carter was speaking about Seth. She wasn’t at all sure now she should be alone with Carter Jago. But if Mrs Drew was there?

  ‘And would you be prepared to risk my father’s wrath if he’s here when you return?’

  ‘No,’ Emma said.

  Carter gestured for Emma to follow him. So she did, relieved to see Mrs Drew bringing up the rear as they walked across the hallway. But when the older woman went to follow them on into the drawing-room, Carter barred her way.

  ‘Your cleaning duties don’t extend to chaperoning Miss Le Goff,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t need a chaperone, Mr Jago,’ Emma told him, although in her heart she was glad of Mrs Drew’s presence.

  ‘Possibly not. Mr Caunter has, no doubt, absolved you of that need.’

  ‘You, you …’ Emma began, but words escaped her.

  Carter Jago laughed at her confusion. He placed a hand under Emma’s elbow and held it tightly.

  ‘The kitchen, Mrs Drew. I’ll ring when I need you to show Miss Le Goff out.’

  ‘You lay one hand on her, Carter Jago …’

  ‘And you’ll do what exactly, Mrs Drew? You’ll lose your job if you accuse me of anything, make no mistake about that. But I’ll be the perfect gentleman, never fear. Or I’ll have Seth to answer to, won’t I?’

  Neither of the women answered. Carter let go of Emma’s elbow, then in a very swift movement he more or less pushed Mrs Drew through the doorway and closed the door behind her. Turned the key in the lock.

  He walked towards Emma, loomed over her. Not touching. Threatening. Emma froze.

  ‘Now then, my pretty, seeing as you are giving so freely of your favours to Caunter, I think it’s only fair you give them to me.’

  ‘Mr Caunter asks nothing of me,’ Emma said. She wasn’t feeling frozen now – boiling more like. ‘And I offer him nothing either. I’m his housekeeper. We have a room each. I …’

  ‘I don’t believe a word of it.’ He grabbed Emma by the shoulders. She twisted to try and get away from him but he held her fast. He pushed his face towards her as though to kiss her and Emma could smell stale coffee and bacon on his breath. She felt like retching, but knew she had to keep her head.

  Should she scream? If she did, Mrs Drew would race to her rescue, she knew it, but she wouldn’t be able to get into the drawing-room because the door was locked.

  ‘Your father isn’t going to be pleased to find me here,’ Emma said, desperately trying to buy time. ‘I’ve been banned from the house. Mrs Drew said.’

  ‘My father is away on business.’

  Carter released his hold on one of Emma’s shoulders and with his free hand he brushed against her breast.

  ‘Don’t touch me!’ Emma yelled.

  ‘Shut up,’ Carter hissed. He pulled Emma roughly to him and pressed his wet lips against hers, his teeth crashing up against her own. She thought she really would be sick now.

  He tried to force his tongue between Emma’s teeth while she squirmed in his arms, resisting for all she was worth. And then the need to breathe overtook her resistance and her teeth parted and Carter Jago flicked his tongue around the inside of her mouth, like a snake seeking its prey.

  And that’s when Emma bit him. Hard. Instantly she tasted his blood in the back of her throat. Her breath was coming in fast, short gasps now. And her heart rate seemed to be increasing, keeping to the same rhythm.

  ‘You bitch!’ Carter yelled, his hand to his mouth.

  He pushed Emma from him, but not before grabbing her left breast. The suddenness of Carter’s actions caught Emma off-balance and she stumbled, falling sideways into an ornate dresser, catching her forehead on the corner. She felt the crack of it inside her head and knew she’d have a bruise even if the skin hadn’t broken.

  Stay upright, she told herself, stay upright. If she were to fall what might Carter do to her?

  Carter made a lunge for her, but he was a big man and Emma, shorter and slimmer, was more nimble. She kicked him hard in the shins while at the same time she drew her nails down his cheeks. Carter went rigid with anger and probably shock as well, but Emma wasn’t going to stay around to ask which. She dodged out from under his arm, tore towards the door, turned the key in the lock and wrenched it open.

  ‘Mrs Drew,’ she yelled. ‘I’m going.’ Making as much noise as she could she knocked the dinner gong from the side table in the hall, sent a glass-based lamp crashing to the floor.

  She ran for the front door, which mercifully was unlocked. And then she was breathing clean, fresh, salt-laden air – like nectar after the staleness of Carter Jago’s breath and his sweaty body odour.

  She’d have to send Seth a note asking him to meet her at Crystal Cove now, because there was no way on this earth she was ever going to set foot over the doorstep of Hilltop House again.

  ‘Does it look a bit better?’ Emma asked.

  Matthew had given her witch hazel to put on her forehead to bring out the bruise. He’d also cleaned her wound and put a piece of gauze across the cut to keep germs out while it formed a scab.

  ‘It looks like what it is, Emma – evidence that you somehow court trouble.’

  ‘I don’t!’

  ‘What happened?’

  Emma shrugged.

  ‘I want the truth, Emma, or there’s the door. No pretty things to wear to dinner …’

  Emma had a sudden vision of dancing again under th
e chandeliers at Nase Head House. With Matthew. She’d bought the blouse she’d so admired in Gladwyn’s after she’d left Hilltop House. The assistant had commented on the cut on Emma’s forehead but she said she’d tripped in the street, hit her head against a wall, and they’d both laughed – if a little nervously – at Emma’s carelessness in tripping. The assistant had suggested a crêpe de chine skirt in deep sage to wear with the blouse. The skirt was selling at a discount price because a bit of the hem had come undone. Well, with a mama who had been a dressmaker, stitching up a hem was no trouble to Emma at all – and even if she hadn’t learnt from her mama, Miss Holgate had made sure Emma and all the others girls in her class knew how to sew.

  She didn’t want not to be able to go out to dinner with Matthew wearing her new blouse and skirt. So she told him the truth. Although not everything – not the bit about having her breast grabbed. Or about biting Carter Jago’s tongue. Or about what he had said – that Matthew had absolved her of any need for a chaperone.

  ‘And did he touch you? Other than forcing unwanted kisses on you?’

  Although Matthew was asking her in a concerned way, his eyes told Emma that he still wanted the truth, or else.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where?’

  Emma tapped her breast with an index finger. ‘Twice,’ she said. ‘Once just a brushing past of his hand, but I knew he meant to do it and the other time he grabbed me.’

  ‘The bastard!’ Matthew said.

  ‘I bit his tongue. Drew blood.’

  ‘Retribution if ever there was any,’ Matthew said. Emma thought he looked pleased that she had done what she did. ‘But he’s not going to be best pleased, you know that?’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘Anyway, why did you go to Hilltop House in the first place?’

  ‘To try and see Seth. There are headstones – just small tablets, but they’re lovely – on my papa’s grave, and on Mama’s and Johnnie’s. Seth must have had them done because I’ve only shown him where the graves are. I wanted to thank him.’

  ‘An easy conclusion to jump to but is there anyone else who could have had them put there?’

  ‘Well, there were quite a lot of people in the church for the funerals, but most were poorer than Papa and Mama were. And …’

  Emma was suddenly overwhelmed with sadness that she was now an orphan. And lonely. Apart from Seth – when she did see him – she was still being cold-shouldered by almost everyone. Especially the girls she’d gone to school with. She had a feeling the fact she was sharing Shingle Cottage with Matthew had something to do with that. She could imagine what their mothers might say – ‘don’t talk to that harlot’, or ‘she’ll come to no good’ and other things of that ilk.

  Emma would so love to have a friend. Someone to talk to about her hopes and dreams. Apart from Matthew and Seth, she’d never had anyone to share them with. Emma gulped, swallowing back tears and told Matthew all this.

  ‘There’s a price that comes of being as beautiful as you are, Emma,’ Matthew said. ‘People are jealous. Or as you found out just now with Carter Jago, they assume things that aren’t true and think they can take liberties. What did he say exactly?’

  To tell him or not? The last thing she wanted was for Matthew to go around to Hilltop and have it out with Carter Jago on her account. She’d fight her own battles, thank you very much.

  ‘Well, Emma, I’m waiting,’ Matthew said. ‘And can wait for as long as it takes for you to tell me.’

  ‘Well,’ Emma said, knowing there was no escape now, ‘it was when Mrs Drew said she’d come in the room with me – he said I’d been absolved of the need for a chaperone now I was living with you. Something along those lines anyway. He assumed …’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Matthew said. He touched her shoulder lightly. ‘We both know what it is he assumed.’

  ‘He’s not the only one,’ Emma said. ‘There’s more than a few walk straight past me in the street like I’m not breathing air.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Coping with all that is making you lonely, isn’t it? That’s the price.’

  Emma nodded. Too full up now to speak. Because despite the prospect of earning a living with her cooking and going to dinner with Matthew all dressed up, she was lonely, achingly so.

  Would the ache ever go?

  ‘You did what?’ Carter said.

  ‘The thump Emma gave you dulled your wits? I’ve just told you.’

  Seth couldn’t help smiling. Carter had a bruise breaking on his chin and deep scratch marks on his cheeks that looked at odds with his immaculate evening dress. Good for you, Emma, he thought, even though he realised it was because of him she’d been at the mercy of Carter’s clutches.

  ‘Headstones, for God’s sake! For a bloody Frenchie and his tight-arsed wife and brat? Does Pa know?’

  ‘There’s no need for him to know. My – legally-earned – money paid for it. I can spend my money on anything I want.’

  ‘Then you’re wasting it on the Le Goff bitch.’

  ‘Call her that one more time and you’ll get a repeat performance of what Emma gave you.’

  ‘Only probably not as hard,’ Carter sneered.

  ‘Don’t tempt me.’ Seth refused to be riled. He had bigger things on his mind – like challenging his pa about the book-keeping records.

  ‘Maybe if I’m too tough for you, you could practise on Caunter.’

  ‘Any reason why I should?’

  ‘He’ll be up at Nase Head House tonight, so I’ve heard. He’ll be wining and dining Mademoiselle Le Goff.’

  Carter had made the word ‘mademoiselle’ sound like the contents of a cess pit, and Seth realised it was only to get a reaction from him. Well, he wasn’t going to give his brother the satisfaction of providing one.

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘Got my spies everywhere, I have.’

  Seth pressed his lips together. He ought to have tried to see Emma more, and he regretted he hadn’t now. Matthew Caunter was obviously turning her head if she’d accepted an invitation to dine with him.

  ‘You’re going green, Seth,’ Carter laughed. ‘An unbecoming shade of jealousy green.’

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘In my own time. Anyway, pity you’re not invited.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go if I was.’

  Seth didn’t think he’d be able to bear seeing Emma with Matthew Caunter.

  ‘Pa, Miles and I have ourselves some lovely ladies …’

  ‘Whores more like.’

  Carter roared with laughter.

  ‘Yeah. A man can learn a thing or two from a whore. Although our ladies for tonight are no worse whores than Mademoiselle Le Goff.

  ‘I’ll ask you a question, Carter. Do you ever think how Ma would feel to know how you speak? How you behave?’

  Carter didn’t flinch. ‘Never. The dead don’t talk.’

  Before he did something to his brother he might regret – like kill him – Seth left the room. He had things he needed to discuss with his father and he knew the conversation wasn’t going to be any more pleasant than the one he’d just had with his brother.

  He found his father coming out of his dressing-room, forcing cufflinks through the holes of his shirt as he came.

  ‘Pa, we need to talk.’

  ‘Not now, Seth. I’m in a hurry, as you can see.’

  ‘It won’t wait.’ And then, because he knew to try and reason with his father would be a total waste of his time and his energy, he said, ‘I’m not signing the accounts.’

  ‘Don’t be a damned fool. Of course you are. And what’s more I’ll make sure you do.’

  He grabbed Seth by the shoulder, knocking him off-balance slightly, and forced him down the stairs and into the drawing-room.

  ‘Get
them,’ his father said, pointing to the desk.

  Seth did as he was told.

  ‘There’s too much falsification, Pa,’ Seth said as he laid the papers on the table. ‘The amount of fish being landed and the prices we get for it at auction don’t tally with the deposits you’ve made in the company account. Either you’re landing fish elsewhere and not declaring payment for it or something else is being landed here that shouldn’t be. Am I right?’

  ‘That’s for me to know. Now sign.’

  His father thrust a pen and a bottle of ink at Seth, but he shook his head, refusing to take them.

  ‘I’m in a hurry, son. And you know I don’t like to be late. And what I like even less than being late is being disobeyed by my sons. Sign!’

  ‘Over my dead body.’

  ‘It might come to that yet.’

  God, what did he do now? Seth knew his father was capable of anything. But he’d started standing up to him and he wasn’t ready to back down yet.

  ‘You wouldn’t dare.’

  Seth unscrewed the top of the ink bottle, dipped the nib of the pen in the ebony ink.

  ‘Don’t tempt me. But I see you’ve come to your senses.’

  ‘I have. Whatever happens from this moment on I’m no longer going to be doing your bidding.’ Seth handed the pen to his father. To his amazement, his father took it. Shock, probably, that Seth was getting the master of him.

  ‘I, too, am going out, Pa. I might be late back. In fact I might not even be back tonight. And those accounts have to be with Easterbrooks by close of business today. I’m sure you know how important it is that they are there. You can take a detour there on your way to Nase Head House, can’t you?’

  And without waiting for a response, Seth marched from the room. At the door he turned to look back at his father. There was a startled expression on his face. But to Seth’s immense relief he saw his father put his signature to the accounts.

  Chapter Eleven