Different Tides

by Janet Woods

  He’d turned the table on her and she took a hasty step back when he chuckled. ‘With their permission, I meant.’

  ‘And I haven’t got your permission?’

  ‘You employed me to look after the children and be their companion. Nothing more.’

  ‘It’s true, but I’ve come to rely on you for many other things.’

  ‘And kissing isn’t one of them, so don’t do anything that will make me feel that I need to leave your household.’

  He stared at her and grinned. ‘That’s good old-fashioned blackmail?’

  ‘I won’t stay here unless I’m treated with respect.’

  He took both of her hands in his and engaged her eyes. ‘I hold you in the utmost respect. I always have and I always will. What has brought this on, my Clemmie? Where would you go?’

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Are you telling me you’d leave my children to fend for themselves, when they’ve grown to love and trust you and look upon you as their mother? I’d never have thought you’d be that cruel.’

  Huffing out a sigh she removed her hands and took a step back. ‘That wasn’t fair.’

  ‘It wasn’t meant to be. I fight dirty when I’m pushed to it. Would you really leave me? No, don’t answer that. I don’t want such a possibility hanging over my head while I’m in London.’

  Dismay gathered force inside her. ‘Are you going away soon?’

  ‘Within the week, I expect. I’m keeping the new maid on the staff. Her main job will be to attend to you and act as companion and chaperone when the need arises. It might stop a few tongues from wagging in the district.’

  ‘Thank you, Zachariah.’ She had an urge to slide her arms around him and keep him with her. ‘It will be quiet here without you all. I already miss Alexandra. She was so lively and talented. We are not alike. We don’t even look alike.’

  ‘Your maid, Ellen, can play the piano and will teach you if you want to learn, and you will have the refurbishment of my study to keep you busy. I daresay you will see Alexandra again. I don’t think she will miss the opportunity of flaunting the fact that her brother is a baron, do you?’

  ‘I did notice the strong resemblance to your sister-in-law in that portrait. Everything is in such a pickle. We are tangled up together like knotted string. How long will you be gone?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’d like to spend the summer here if I can. When I return I intend to make some adjustments to your contract. If you have any changes you’d like to make we can discuss them then.

  ‘Now, there’s something else I need to discuss with you. Come to the study and take tea with me, would you? It’s a fine day, so Julia will take the children out for a walk and keep them occupied for an hour or so.’

  The study was warm, with the fire dancing in the grate.

  After Mrs Ogden had delivered the tea tray he placed some sheets of paper on the table.

  She gazed up at him, surprised. ‘Edward’s book?’

  ‘Yes. I’d like you to read it.’

  ‘There’s not much to read by the look of it. It’s mostly pictures.’

  ‘I think you’ll be able to make sense of the pictures.’

  The boy had possessed the sense to number the pages. The first page had a picture of four adults and two smaller figures standing in a row. They had ear-to-ear smiles. There was a yellow river at the front and a hut, with leaning walls. On a table was a heap of grey stones. She ran a fingertip gently over the children and looked up at him. ‘Your family?’

  He nodded. ‘I imagine so.’

  The next picture had had the same background, except there was another man, dressed in dark blue. He had a pistol in his hand and it was pointing at the other two figures. JONAS was written at the top.

  Page three showed four figures lying on the ground. Blood gushed out of their chests in a fountain. One of the children was little more than a baby and big tears flew off her face into a puddle. The boy was open-mouthed and he held a stick in his hand. Screem! was written under him.

  ‘Oh God, what a brave little boy,’ she whispered, tears flooding her eyes.

  Page four had thick rain slashes across it. The prone figures were floating on the water. One of them had long red hair. Wake Papa! The urgent black letters were thick, as though they were shouting out to them.

  The next page only had a river and Run! Run!

  On the last page there were four figures again. The two smaller ones had eyes but no mouths. They were ragged. There was a ship behind them.

  The final page was a picture of a meadow full of different coloured flowers with a child running around and butterflies and birds in the air. Two dogs sniffed at a tree trunk and there was a boy on a pony. They all wore smiles.

  Clementine stifled a sob and gazed at Zachariah. ‘Your brother and his wife were murdered?’

  ‘If Edward’s account is correct and not a figure of his imagination.’

  ‘Do you think the Sheridans killed them?’

  ‘They don’t strike me as being killers, and if they are, why didn’t they kill the children as well? And who are the other two people? On the strength of this I think we can safely assume that Edward and Iris are my brother’s children. We are certainly going to make further enquiries though. Should I question Edward about this, do you think?’

  ‘I think he’s told you what happened in the best way he could. You saw how scared he was when he arrived. He’d been threatened and told not to say anything. Yet he found the courage to draw those pictures as a way of getting round that. I would say that it’s all he can remember of the incident after all this time. If you question him about it for detail he might stop talking again, and he might make things up.’

  He nodded. ‘I’ll let him know that I’ve read it.’

  And he did, saying to Edward, ‘Thank you for the book. I’ll treasure it and keep it in a safe place, so you don’t have to worry any more.’ He pulled the lad close and hugged him.

  The week sped by fast. The children grew used to the thought of Zachariah leaving.

  When the day came Julia Beck made tearful goodbyes.

  ‘Be good, my sweet darlings,’ Julia said to the children, and was almost in tears as she hugged them. ‘Clementine, darling, you must ask Zachariah to bring you and the children to London for a visit one day. No, don’t you ask him. I’ll tell him myself that he must.’

  ‘It’s a long journey for the children to make.’

  ‘Nonsense, dear. They managed to come from Australia without mishap.’

  The trunks were distributed into the carriages, overseen by Evan. He would travel with Zachariah, and he loaded a hamper of food, as if they were going off for the day on a picnic.

  Clementine and the children watched the comings and goings from the upstairs window. The horses were restless, stamping and squealing and tossing their heads. The children were trying not to cry at the parting, so their voices were thick with the effort.

  Wolf panted with excitement as the carriages started off and Happy chased his tail in a circle.

  Then the Fleet carriage stopped. Zachariah jumped out and ran back towards the house, taking long, loping strides.

  Had he forgotten his hat?

  No … he’d forgotten the children. He grabbed them up, one in each arm, and hugged them. Then he kissed each of them and put them down again. ‘Look after Miss Clemmie,’ he said.

  ‘You forgot to kiss her goodbye too,’ Iris told him.

  ‘So I did.’ He smiled at her. ‘May I have that privilege on this occasion, Clemmie?’

  She nodded. After all, he couldn’t get up to much mischief with the children looking on.

  He took her face in his hands and his lips touched gently against hers. He drew her closer and she felt the slow disintegration of her senses as they peeled off to expose each layer beneath. He nipped her bottom lip then kissed her again, giving her a little lick when he’d taken his fill, as though he was removing a smear of piquant mayonnaise from her m
outh.

  Mischief obviously came in many forms. ‘Ummmm,’ she said, so thoroughly robbed of her wits that she couldn’t think of anything else that sounded remotely like intelligent human speech.

  He gazed down at her, eyes full of laughter. ‘Was that an ummmm of protest or an ummmm of approval?’

  She was weak at the knees and became aware of Edward and Iris giggling together: ‘Ummm – ummm – diddly – dummm – hum …’

  ‘I must get back to the carriage. I only returned to the house because I’d forgotten my hat.’

  Ah, so he had forgotten his hat. It was still on the hallstand. He did something spontaneous and completely out of character. He ran down the stairs and tapped the brim smartly with his stick. The hat did a somersault. Catching it on the end of his stick, he bowed, and then transferred the hat to his head.

  When the children laughed and clapped hands he laughed too. ‘Evan taught me that. Perhaps I should join a travelling show, what do you think, Clemmie?’

  ‘I think you’re showing off. You’d need more than one trick if you were intent on having a successful career with a travelling show. As for that kiss of yours, I think it might have been an ummm of approval,’ she called down to him.

  His smile came back to her, slow and warm. ‘So I could make a career out of kissing you.’

  Iris piped up, ‘Polly said that people who kiss each other have to get married, or else it’s naughty.’

  ‘You’re too young to know of such things, but I’ll bear that in mind.’

  The door closed behind him and they all rushed to the landing window again.

  When he reached the carriage, he waved and leapt inside. The vehicle went rumbling off.

  The dogs raced down the stairs and scrabbled to be let out, so they could enjoy themselves by chasing the carriages.

  ‘Don’t let them out, else they’ll be halfway to London before we catch them,’ she said, as the children dashed after them.

  July suddenly seemed ages away. She would make a calendar for the children; then they could learn how to use it as they crossed the days off.

  She wondered if she’d spend the rest of her life waiting for Zachariah to return, the life in her body drying up, her hair going grey and her back bending under the weight of her spinsterhood. And would he still be pestering her for kisses?

  She smiled. She certainly hoped so!

  They had passed through Poole three hours ago, barely crawling. Zachariah had forgotten it was a market day. The road in and out of the port town was choked with horses and carts.

  They stopped at his agent’s office so Zachariah could tell him he was leaving for London. The office had been busy, the walls covered with the usual posters. One had been a drawing of a man with a beard. There had been something familiar about him. What had his name been? Joshua … Josiah … Hawkins?

  He heard Stephen swearing at a bunch of jostling people when they set off again. Opening his eyes he gazed out of the window, in time to see a mounted man going in the opposite direction … Basil Cheeves? The banker’s son gave the carriage a cursory glance, and then he scowled when he saw Zachariah at the window.

  He glanced towards the horse and rider on his far side and said something to the man, who had a country hat shading his face. There was something about him that also seemed slightly familiar … the nose perhaps?

  Then they surged forward and were past. The traffic had thinned down considerably and Zachariah heaved a sigh of relief. They would catch up with John and Julia at the Lyndhurst inn.

  Dragged from his reverie, Zachariah laughed and said, ‘Thank goodness the traffic has eased off. You know, Evan, you can stop the servant and master act now we’re alone.’

  Evan sighed. ‘I’ve known you for a long time, sir, and it’s easier to play the servant than switch roles all the time. I’m not going to be your man forever. Soon I’ll have enough money to form my own company of players.’

  ‘You know I’ll be happy to advance you the money.’

  Evan leaned back in his seat. ‘I know you would, but you have enough people dipping into your purse.’

  Zachariah shrugged. ‘I enjoy the challenge of finance as much as you enjoy the challenge of play-acting.’

  ‘You don’t look as though you’re enjoying life at the moment, sir. If you don’t mind me saying, you look like a man who has taken a fond farewell from his lady love.’

  ‘Then you know a kiss is never enough. Unfortunately, there are lines that a gentleman mustn’t cross, not even in his own home, unless he wants to compromise himself. One of those lines tells him not to gossip about his conquests, however small – if he is lucky enough to make one.’

  ‘That would never do.’

  ‘Indeed it would not. Now, tell me … what did you do to Miss Tate to send her scuttling off without saying a tearful thank-you and goodbye to her host.’

  Evan examined his fingernails for a moment, then looked up at him and grinned. ‘As you indicated, a gentleman never tells. Let me just say the lady got a little less than she needed, but more than she deserved, and she left here still intact but with more awareness. She had pretty breasts, didn’t she?’

  Clementine came instantly to Zachariah’s mind … although really she hadn’t ever left it. ‘Ah yes … small but neat and firm, with a delightful upward tilt – a delectable handful I should imagine.’ He collected his thoughts together. ‘Actually, I don’t think I noticed them.’

  ‘So it seems,’ Evan said drily. ‘I thought Miss Tate was a little more voluptuous than you described though.’ Evan described her figure in the air with his hands. ‘You did understand who I was referring to, didn’t you?’

  Zachariah raised an eyebrow. ‘Of course I did. I’d throw you out of the carriage and bounce you on your arse if I thought you’d refer to Clementine in such a personal matter.’

  ‘So who were you describing?’

  ‘Hush now, Evan; there’s something bothering me that I can’t quite put my finger on.’

  ‘That must be frustrating.’ Evan chuckled. Taking out a deck of cards he expertly shuffled them and then began to play patience, using the seat beside him as a table. ‘You’re terrible at card games, Zach. How did you manage to win that money from Cheeves?’

  ‘I cheated. The cards were Gabe’s, and I remember he’d told me he’d marked them.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. I threw them in the fire, just in case it was questioned.’

  Zachariah closed his eyes, and leaning back into the corner he allowed his mind to drift.

  The answer caught up with him as they pulled into the stable yard.

  He waited until they were settled down with a tankard of ale, and then said to John, ‘I thought I saw George Sheridan riding with Basil Cheeves in Poole. I was hoping he’d left town.’

  ‘Perhaps it wasn’t him, just someone who looked like him.’

  ‘That could be true, John, but I feel uneasy.’ Nevertheless he ignored his instincts because he had nothing solid to attach them to.

  At dinner that evening, they were enjoying the inn’s roast beef and dripping pudding when Zachariah found himself gazing at the same wanted poster that had been pinned to the board in his land agent’s office. Up close it was a crude, badly printed image of a man with a beard. His uneasiness came back.

  Wanted: Dead or Alive. Jonas Hawkins is charged with four counts of murder in the Australian colony, and the kidnapping of two children. Now believed to be in England. The escaped convict is regarded as highly dangerous and has been sighted in Dorchester, Portsmouth and London. A reward is offered for information leading to his capture.

  Zachariah poked Evan in the side. ‘You know something about theatre disguise. What do you make of that wanted sheet – does it remind you of someone?’

  ‘The beard looks false and that moustache is typical for saloon-bar dastardly villains.’ Evan made a corner between his forefinger and his thumb and placed it where the chin would be situated under the beard.

&n
bsp; ‘I’ll be damned … he looks like George Sheridan,’ John said.

  Julia placed her hand against her chest and her eyes widened. ‘Oh my goodness. Clementine and the children are alone.’

  ‘Hardly; they have Mr Bolton and Ben looking after them. Besides, why should Clementine and the children be involved?’ John didn’t sound convinced about that though. ‘The more I look at the poster the more he reminds me of George Sheridan. It is him!’

  A sense of doom settled darkly in Zachariah’s midriff as things began to fall into place. Could this Jonas Hawkins be the same Jonas portrayed in Edward’s book? There had been four adults in his picture book – one with red hair. Sheridan’s wife, or the woman who’d stepped on the ship, had dark brown hair.

  Zachariah allowed his mind to wander. What if the Sheridans had been killed along with Gabe and Alice? Jonas Hawkins would only need to change his name and hire a woman to look after them until they reached England. Thank goodness the children had survived.

  But Edward and Iris were the only two people who would be able to identify Jonas Hawkins as the man who’d killed their father and mother.

  Alarm bells began to ring. ‘There are too many coincidences, and something is wrong here. I’m going to return to Martingale House,’ he said.

  John said, ‘We’ll all go back, but I can’t leave Julia here by herself.’

  ‘I’m coming with you, since Clementine and the children might need me.’

  ‘There is a woman on the outskirts of the village who will give you shelter, Julia. I imagine Mrs Mason will be happy to offer her hospitality until we’re sure it’s safe.’

  ‘We’d better hurry then, else it will be dark before we get there.’

  John stood. ‘I’ll instruct the ostler to get the horses rigged.’

  Pushed by a sense of urgency they didn’t spare the horses in the first half of the journey, and they changed to fresh horses when they reached Poole, leaving their own to recover at the coaching inn.

  They made their way carefully, taking the inland road since the heath was a dangerous path to take at night, with its bogs and quarries, and could quite easily cause a horse to break its leg or tip a man into its mire. They were not far past Wareham when they came over a rise and saw a red glow in the sky.