‘Don’t let me keep you up,’ Emma said.
‘And leave you here to worry all by yourself?’
‘I’ll be fine.’
‘Well, I’m not fine about leaving you. I’m sure Seth won’t mind you being here, but if he comes in and isn’t too happy about seeing you in all your finery then I can help persuade him otherwise.’
Emma sighed – her shoulders heaving up towards her ears then down again. ‘I always said I’d never come in this house again, and now here I am.’
‘Well, them as who you didn’t want to see aren’t here any more. And good riddance to the lot of them. I know that Carter made a play for you in the drawing-room, didn’t he? Touched you where he shouldn’t?’
Emma nodded. Felt sick as the memory of it came back – it felt the way heartburn felt, only this was in her soul.
‘Let it go, lovie, let it go. I hope Seth can, too.’
‘And me. I’ll stay until I know Seth’s safe and then I’ll move on.’
She told Beattie Drew how she had money and would find a room in a hotel in the morning and then work out what she was going to do next.
‘But I couldn’t just sit there and listen to Mr Smythe and the solicitor saying terrible things about Seth – how he’d been kept from going into Nase Head House because of the things his father and brothers did. I didn’t want Seth to think I thought those things, too.’
‘’Course you didn’t, lovie.’
Beattie Drew ran water into the milk pan, began to scour it out.
And then there was a banging on the front door. And shouting. Men’s voices.
‘That’ll be the man of the house back and no doubt,’ Beattie Drew said. She wiped her wet hands down the sides of her apron. ‘Better go and let him in.’
Emma, stiff now from so long curled up in the chair, eased herself to a sitting position, then got up slowly and followed Beattie Drew out of the room. Their heels clicked on the tiled passage – an echoey sound in the stillness of the night, punctuated by random shouts from the men at the door.
Beattie Drew unlocked the door, but kept the chain on.
‘Just as I thought,’ she said, looking back over her shoulder at Emma. ‘Drunk the lot of them. Can’t see Seth yet, though.’ She called through the crack to the men. ‘Got Seth Jago there have you, lads?’
‘’Course we have, you old crone,’ one of them said and laughed. The others joined in.
‘Watch your language lads or I’ll scour your mouths out with carbolic.’
Beattie Drew seemed unfazed by their rudeness. She took a candle in its holder from the side-table.
‘Later,’ another lad laughed. ‘Best open up and let Mr Jago in ’cos he’s in a bad way. We can’t afford to lose a good boss, can we lads?’
His companions, very noisily, agreed that they couldn’t.
‘Bad way?’ Emma said. She tried to get between Mrs Drew and the gap in the door but was pushed back.
‘Drunk, lovie. Unable to stand. Made a mess of himself as well, no doubt.’ Beattie Drew took the chain off the door and opened it wider.
Emma gasped. By the candlelight she could see Seth draped over a handcart with what looked like blood all over his face.
‘Oh, lawks a mercy on us,’ Beattie Drew said. ‘What happened, lads?’
‘Got in a bit of a fight, I’d say, wouldn’t you?’
‘Us was taking a short cut home and us found ’im lying in the alley. Broken glass all over the place there was. He …’
‘Enough,’ Beattie Drew shouted. ‘Get him off that filthy handcart ’cos it idn’ fit for rotting fish heads never mind a man, and take him through to the kitchen, then you can all clear off. And make sure you’re quiet about it ’cos my Edward’s asleep upstairs an’ if you waken ’im you’ll know all about it.’
After much shushing of one another and theatrical walking on tiptoe by the men, Seth was at last propped up in the chair Emma had so recently vacated. Stupidly, she was glad it was still warm for him, even though she knew he probably wouldn’t know whether it was a warm chair or a block of ice they used to chill the fish.
She tried to see where the blood was coming from that covered Seth’s face. Some had either run into his hair, or had come from a head wound. His clothes were slowly soaking up the blood, some of it drying now to an orangey-brown on his shirt.
Emma rushed to the sink. Grabbed a dish from the plate rack on the wall and filled it with water. It felt cold – icy. Then she took a clean tea-towel that was airing on the overhead drying rack.
‘Is there a drop of warm in the kettle?’ she asked.
‘Help yourself,’ Beattie Drew said. ‘I’ll just go and see if I can find something to stop the bleeding. Compress or something. And a pillow for ’im to rest against. Oh, and iodine.’ She bustled from the room, leaving Emma wincing at the word iodine. She knew iodine stung.
Carefully, Emma dabbed the dampened cloth on Seth’s bloodied face. Blood seemed to have come from quite a few cuts – as though a glass had been pressed into Seth’s face perhaps. Yes, glass. Carefully she picked two small shards from a sliver of a cut.
‘Oh, Seth. Why ever did you let yourself get into this mess?’
Emma sent up a silent prayer that Seth wouldn’t be permanently scarred. And that the cuts wouldn’t be too deep and get infected.
‘But I’d love you scars and all,’ she whispered.
Seth groaned and squirmed under her touch, as light as it was. Even though he was in such a mess and stinking of drink, Emma’s heart lurched at the sight of him, the feel of him under her fingers.
‘Now then,’ Beattie Drew said, bustling back into the room, her arms filled with the things they would need to tend to Seth. ‘You hold ’is head forward and I’ll slip this pillow in behind ’im.’
Emma did as she was told.
‘Now then, what’s the damage?’
‘I think he’s had a glass or a bottle pushed in his face,’ Emma said. She pointed to the shards of glass she’d placed on the table. ‘I’ve picked out two.’
‘Well, keep picking them out, lovie. Look in his head as well.’
Emma did as she was told. Found three more shards on the cheekbone underneath Seth’s left eye. She gulped. What if the glass had gone an inch or two higher? Seth could have been blinded, couldn’t he?
But still she would have loved him. He’d come looking for her and been turned away, hadn’t he? He did care for her – she knew it.
How strange it felt to Emma to be running her hands through Seth’s hair, ministering to him when she hadn’t spoken to him in a long while and seen him only across the harbour. She’d never touched him this intimately before and wondered what he would think if he knew she was. And yet it felt so right to be doing it. To be here when Seth needed her most.
Emma stood back and let Beattie Drew apply compresses to the deeper cuts until they stopped running with fresh blood.
‘He’ll live,’ Beattie Drew said, at last. ‘Now, let’s get him undressed.’
‘Undressed?’
‘You heard, lovie. Shoes first.’
Emma pulled Seth’s shoes off as gently as she could while Beattie Drew undid the buttons on the flies of his trousers. Emma could see white underwear and wondered if Beattie Drew intended to strip Seth of that, too.
‘Good girl.’ Beattie Drew bent down to feel Seth’s stockinged feet. ‘Well, they’re dry so we’ll leave them on. But you’ll have to help me get these trousers off him.’
‘I will?’
‘You and your questioning, Emma Le Goff,’ Beattie Drew said, but she said it with a smile on her face. ‘Seen a man how God made him before, haven’t you?’
‘Only Johnnie when he was a baby. And Archie and Sidney Smythe but they’re little boys. They’re …�
��
‘Same thing, only bigger. Now I’ll hold him up and you pull on the trouser legs. Gently now.’
Emma did as she was told, but to her horror Seth’s underclothes came away with the trousers.
‘Much bigger in Seth’s case, I see,’ Beattie Drew said. ‘Now, you hold his feet up and I’ll find a stool to put under ’em to support ’em.’
Emma did as she was told while Mrs Drew took a low stool from under the kitchen table.
‘Well, what do you think, lovie?’ Mrs Drew said when they’d got Seth settled as comfortably as they could. ‘Won’t that make a woman of a girl one day?’
‘Mrs Drew.’ Emma felt herself blush.
‘Don’t waste your blushes, lovie. Seth can’t see how pretty they make you look, can he? Now undo those shirt buttons and we’ll see if the blood on that shirt I ironed only yesterday has come from his face, or if someone’s took a knife to him.’
‘A knife?’
‘Shirt buttons, Emma. I’m going to get some water on the boil. We’re going to have to clean these cuts a bit better and need sterilised water to do it, don’t we?’
Emma nodded, began to unbutton Seth’s shirt. Dark curls sprang out as she pulled the fabric away from his chest. She poked a baby finger in the curls and wound them round and round until her finger was caught fast. She closed her eyes then opened them again, let them run down over Seth’s body. The hair around his man parts was curly too … and long. Emma undid the last button of Seth’s shirt and it was all she could do not to place a finger in those curls, feel how it felt …
‘Emma. Time for that later, my girl.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Emma said. She tore her gaze away from the amused face of Mrs Drew and began to examine Seth’s chest for any cuts. To her relief there were none.
Between them, Emma and Mrs Drew tended Seth’s wounds and then Mrs Drew unfolded a crisply ironed linen sheet from a pile on the dresser and covered Seth’s nakedness.
‘Now, I don’t know where I’m going to put you for the night, lovie. My guess is you wouldn’t want to sleep in a room that had been Carter’s, or Miles’, or that evil father of theirs. There’s Seth’s room, of course, seeing as he won’t be wanting …’
‘I’ll stay here,’ Emma said. ‘Watch over Seth. In case he’s sick or anything …’
‘Oh yes? I saw the way you looked at him. You just want to peek under that sheet …’
‘No, I don’t. I don’t think it’s right that I impose on Seth’s hospitality any more than I already am. I’ll sit in the chair the other side of the range if you can get me a blanket to sleep under, and then if he’s sick or wakes in pain …’
‘You can tend to him?’
Mrs Drew grinned and to Emma’s horror she found herself grinning back. Now Seth was back in her life she didn’t want to lose sight of him. Not for a minute. But what was he going to say when he found her there in the morning?
‘Is this heaven?’
Seth lifted his head from the pillow, his words startling Emma from a half-doze. She shivered because her blanket had slid to the floor. She must have dozed for longer than she’d thought and fidgeted in her half-sleep because her dress had ridden up almost to her knees. One strap of her dress bodice had slipped down over her shoulder. What a sight she must look.
But oh, how good it was to hear his voice, even though he still sounded whoozy with drink. All through the night Emma had left her chair and gone to him at regular intervals to check on his breathing. She’d put her hand on top of the sheet and left it there until she could feel the rise and fall of his chest. And once, when it hadn’t been discernible, she’d slid her hand underneath the sheet, let it rest at the bottom of his rib cage – his flesh warm and smooth beneath her palm.
‘Heaven?’ Emma said. ‘What makes you think you’re in heaven?’
‘Because there’s a beautiful woman looking at me who looks very much like I imagine angels to look.’
‘With my colour hair? Angels are blonde.’
‘Who says? Anyway, I don’t go for blondes.’
‘Who do you go for, as you put it, then?’
‘Emma Le Goff. Let her slip through my fingers, I did.’
Seth peered at her through slitted eyelids, as though he was finding it hard to focus.
‘You’re still drunk, Seth Jago, and you should be ashamed of yourself.’
Seth’s eyes widened then. ‘It is you? I woke up just now and thought it was you sitting in the chair. And then I thought, no it couldn’t possibly be Emma Le Goff because she’s over at Nase Head House and any day now she’s going to marry Rupert Smythe, and …’
‘Oh no, I’m not,’ Emma said. ‘Whoever told you that?’
‘Not going to say. But people talk.’ Seth tapped the side of his nose. ‘I went up to Nase Head House last night and asked to see you. I thought I’d point out you were making a mistake if you married Smythe. I was barred from entering. I …’
‘I’d never have married him, Seth. Never!’
‘I’m relieved to hear it,’ Seth said. ‘And I know I’m probably more than a little hungover but … why are you here?’
‘Mr Smythe threw me out.’
‘For?’
‘Standing up for you.’
Seth looked at her for a long, long time. Emma almost stopped breathing waiting for him to say something.
‘You might be better off marrying Smythe,’ he said at last. ‘There’s no doubt more than a few would consider me untouchable goods with my brother hanged yesterday …’
‘I know about that,’ Emma said, getting up from her chair, putting her clothes to rights as best she could. ‘And I’m not one of your hypothetical “more than a few”, Seth. I know the worth of you. And I’m definitely not going to marry Rupert Smythe.’
‘But he’s asked you?’
Time for the truth, Emma decided. ‘Yes,’ she said, ashamed now that she’d let herself be so malleable to Rupert Smythe’s grooming and duping. And feeling stupid that she’d stayed at Nase Head House as long as she had. ‘But I never would have.’
‘Good,’ Seth said. His mouth turned upwards in the beginnings of a smile. ‘Ouch! It hurts to smile.’
‘That’ll teach you to temper your drinking, then,’ Emma laughed.
Seth ran his fingers through his hair – they almost disappeared in the thickness of it, as though he hadn’t been to a barber in a long time. Emma rather liked the length of his hair the way it was, wondered what it would be like to run her fingers through it and not be looking for blood and shards of glass.
Seth shifted, struggled to get himself into a better sitting position, then put his hands to his head and groaned, letting his head drop back onto the pillow.
‘You’ve got a hangover,’ Emma said.
‘Yes, Miss,’ Seth said. He flicked his tongue out between bruised lips at Emma.
‘And put that back where it came from before I cut it off,’ Emma said.
Seth raised his head from the pillow just a fraction but it was obvious the pain from his hangover and the bashing he’d been on the end of was too much for him.
‘You just stay right there, Seth. I’ll make you a cup of good, strong coffee and get you a bite of toast to eat.’
‘Making yourself free in my kitchen, I see,’ Seth said, but there was laughter in his voice. ‘But I don’t think I could eat or drink a thing, thank you.’
How good that laughter sounded to Emma – they were almost back to the way they’d been before circumstances and misunderstandings had parted them.
‘You’re pleased to see me, though?’ Emma said.
‘I am. And if I didn’t think I’d die if I leapt from this chair …’ Seth took his hands from his head and slid them under the sheet. ‘I haven�
�t got anything on under here.’
‘Except for your socks,’ Emma said. ‘And you look quite ridiculous if I may say so in just your socks.’
‘And did you … did you …?’
‘Yes.’ Emma grinned. ‘And I removed shards of glass from about your person.’
‘Where?’ Seth said. He felt about underneath the sheet.
‘Higher up than that,’ Emma said, laughing.
‘But you saw me …’
‘I did. But I was too worried you were going to die on me to look properly.’
It was a lie. He hadn’t looked in the least like he was going to die. And she had looked. And for longer than was seemly. Seth was beautiful, if a man’s body could be called beautiful.
Emma felt herself blush and as the sun was way up now and the kitchen flooded with light she knew Seth would have noticed.
‘You always did blush prettily, Emma,’ Seth said.
‘Do I?’
‘There you go – forever questioning what a fellow says. But …’ Seth hauled himself upright in the chair. ‘As delightful as this banter is and as wonderful as it is to see you sitting there looking like an angel, I have something to tell you. You might want to go when I have.’
‘I think I know what it is. You’ve got the fishing fleet up for sale. You’re going to Canada.’
‘Ah, so that little snippet of information reached the spot I wanted it to reach.’ Seth grinned at her.
‘You mean me? You spread false stories?’
‘Yes. For the best of reasons, Emma. I thought we had something very special, you and me, and my hope was that if you thought I was going to Canada then you’d come rushing back to me and beg to come with me.’
Emma laughed. ‘I never had you down as so devious, Seth Jago.’ But how thrilling it was to hear him laying his heart out before her.
‘But that’s not all I have to tell you. There’s something else. And, once I’ve told you, I’ll understand if you don’t want to have anything to do with me …’
‘Tell.’
‘There’s no easy way, Emma – Carter left a letter to be given to me after he was hanged. Howard Bettesworth had it delivered by hand just as I was going out last evening.
To Turn Full Circle Page 29