Sea Mistress

by Iris Gower

  He was well aware that she looked on his regard as nothing more than puppy love and perhaps she was right but he had never met a woman he admired more than he did Miss Smale.

  Daniel came from a good background, his parents were not rich by any means, certainly not in Arian Smale’s league but the Bennetts were a well respected Swansea family with a modest property on the edge of the Uplands. He’d been to the college on Mount Pleasant hill and had enjoyed his studies tremendously. But all the while he’d been learning Geography and Mathematics, he’d wanted more from life. He had always harboured a love of words and so it seemed the sensible course to pursue was to learn the art of journalism.

  ‘Well, off you go then,’ Arian Smale looked away from him as Mac entered the office in a rush of fresh air. Daniel recognized that Mac was a brilliant writer, he had a gift for words that Daniel envied. He was sometimes dour and unapproachable but then, out of the blue, he would offer a gem of good advice which Daniel would seize upon eagerly.

  ‘Right. I’ll do my best, you can be sure of it.’ Daniel picked up his hat from the stand near the door and Mac looked at him with large brown eyes filled with something very much like amusement.

  ‘You’re going to do the obit on Jubilee Hopkins, then?’ He allowed the smile to creep across his mouth. ‘Beware of the stink up at the tannery, it’s to be hoped that you’ve got a strong stomach, lad.’

  Daniel hated being called ‘lad’ especially with Arian standing there looking on. Still, he was determined to allow nothing to spoil his moment of triumph. ‘Strong enough,’ he said smoothly. ‘I know enough about tanneries to understand it’s no bed of lavender.’

  There was silence and Daniel had the feeling, suddenly, that he’d been a trifle too confident, this was after all his first lone assignment.

  ‘I’d better go then,’ he still hesitated wondering if there was something he could say to retrieve the situation, he didn’t want anyone, especially Arian, thinking he was conceited.

  ‘It’s a long walk.’ Mac’s laconic remark goaded Daniel into movement and he left the office determined that he would come back with some unusual angle on this old man and then he would write the best obit he was capable of.

  It was indeed a long walk out to the tannery but even before he reached the folds of Kilvey Hill and passed beyond, he thought he could detect the faintly nauseating smell of drying animal skins.

  He would be spared actually going into the tannery itself, the yard was no place for a lady. He guessed he would find Mrs Hopkins weeping within the confines of her house. And so it turned out to be when he enquired after her at the tannery entrance.

  From the outside, the house appeared quite grand, sprawling across a large piece of ground higher up than the tannery boundary. The curtains were drawn against the morning sun, a sign of mourning and suddenly Daniel felt ill equipped to deal with the pain of a bereaved old lady.

  The door was opened to his knock quite quickly and a petite young woman dressed in black looked out at him shading her eyes with her hand, apparently dazzled by the sudden fall of sunlight across her face.

  She was very pretty in a fair, rather delicate way, her hair was caught back in a bun and her breasts swelled becomingly beneath the dark pleating of her bodice. Daniel breathed a sigh of relief, at least he would not be seeing the widow alone. This young lady, he presumed, was a daughter of the deceased.

  ‘I’m from The Swansea Times, miss, Daniel Bennett, I’m sorry to intrude on such a sad time but I would like to write an obituary that will do justice to Mr Jubilee Hopkins. Are you his daughter?’

  She stood back to allow him to enter and he could see that the proportions of the hallway were impressive. At some time, years ago, this would have been a very much sought after property but now with the adjacent tannery it would be less than desirable.

  ‘Come into the parlour won’t you?’ The girl spoke in cultured tones and looked up at him with large beautiful eyes and he felt a wave of protective warmth sweep over him. She seemed so vulnerable and yet so dignified in her grief.

  The room was empty. The grate was swept clean, innocent of coal, there was no fire and the air was chill in spite of the sunshine outside. Also, he noticed, it was surprisingly shabby.

  ‘Please sit down,’ she gestured to a chair and though her hands were small, Daniel could not help noticing that they were work roughened and stained. It must be that the girl was obliged to carry out manual work in the tannery but this was not unusual where a business was a family concern. And yet, she was so soft, so delicate, she should be spared the toil of the yards.

  How Jubilee Hopkins conducted his affairs was none of his business, he reminded himself. He was here to do a job, nothing more. The first rule of journalism was not to get involved and he was in danger of breaking it already.

  Would you like some cordial, perhaps?’ She moved to the door as though anticipating his acceptance and he smiled.

  ‘That would be lovely, thank you.’ It might be easier to talk if his mouth wasn’t so dry. He recognized that he was nervous. This was a part of writing he’d not anticipated. This was dealing with real flesh and blood people, people who were grieving and he wasn’t sure he was experienced enough to cope with such a situation.

  She returned after a few minutes with a tray, apparently there was no maid and, handing him a glass, she sat down opposite him. ‘Sorry there’s no fire in here, we’re waiting for a delivery of coal. Jubilee usually brings in a stock but he’s had other things on his mind lately.’ She looked at him with those large, lovely eyes and he swallowed hard. He desperately tried to think of something to say.

  ‘I’m Mrs Hopkins, Ellie,’ she broke the silence. ‘I’d be pleased to give you any information about my husband that you need. I want you to do him justice, he was a fine man.’

  Shock waves ran through him, this pale girl was wife to the old man, that was a surprise. He made an effort to marshall his thoughts. To give himself time, he consulted his sparse notes. ‘Mr Hopkins was past eighty, is that correct?’

  ‘Yes,’ her voice was low. ‘My husband was hale and hearty until a few weeks ago.’ Her voice trembled, ‘It was only lately that he . . . well I’d never seen him sick before, it was dreadful.’

  She put her hand up to her face for a moment as if overcome and then she seemed to draw a deep breath and regain her self-control. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound self-pitying.’

  ‘It’s quite understandable in the circumstances,’ he coughed. ‘I’ll personally take care to give your husband his due, I do assure you, Mrs Hopkins.’

  It seemed scarcely credible, this girl looked little more than his own age, how could she bear to be married to an old man like Jubilee Hopkins, however fine he was? Was her grief genuine? It certainly seemed it.

  ‘Perhaps you can tell me when he was born and where, that sort of thing.’ Daniel searched his mind for the information usually contained in obituaries. ‘And what works he did for the community, you know the sort of thing.’

  ‘I don’t really.’ The girl, he couldn’t think of her as Mrs Hopkins, seemed at a loss and Daniel knew it was his fault. He should be asking pertinent questions not expecting her to know the form.

  ‘Just tell me all about him, I’ll write it down and sort it out when I get to the office,’ he tried to sound reassuring but he didn’t quite succeed.

  Ellie smiled at him then and he saw the charm and beauty of her, the fragile loveliness illuminating her pale skin. Her hair was fair, almost silver. She was like a madonna. He was embarrassed by the extravagance of his feelings and coughed again to hide the rush of colour to his face.

  ‘Have you any children, Mrs Hopkins?’ He tried to sound business-like but it was difficult with her looking down at him so appealingly.

  She shook her head, ‘I’ve no children.’ She regarded him steadily for a moment, assessing him, and he met her gaze knowing that he wanted to learn more about her.

  ‘This is my first assignment,’ he b
lurted the words, his intentions of appearing confident, in charge of the situation, disappearing, ‘I want to get it right, I want to do you and the deceased gentleman justice by what I write.’

  ‘I understand,’ Ellie spoke softly. ‘Perhaps it would be best if we look at the family Bible, I think you’ll find all you need in its records.’

  They stood together leaning over the large open Bible resting on the table, he could smell her fragrance and was moved by it. Ellie seemed unaware of his feelings as she ran her finger along the dates written in careful hand.

  ‘There, see, Jubilee was born in September 1824 to Mary and Jasper Hopkins.’ She turned and looked over her shoulder, her eyes were large in her pale face. ‘It seems such a long time ago.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Daniel wrote the date in his notebook, ‘but then Mr Hopkins was a good age.’

  ‘I know he was past eighty but he seemed so much younger to me.’ Ellie’s voice quivered and on an impulse, Daniel rested his hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Excuse me!’ The voice was sharp with scarcely concealed anger and Daniel looked towards the doorway in surprise. A man a little older than himself stood, hands bunched menacingly, staring at him as though he would like to stuff his fist down Daniel’s throat.

  ‘Yes?’ Daniel’s voice was equally sharp, this man stank of the tan pits, he was clearly a working man, someone of no account. Daniel didn’t consider himself snobbish in any way but it was impertinent for a rough labourer to intrude on a private discussion and to so address himself to a visitor invited in by the mistress of the house.

  ‘Matthew,’ Ellie spoke clearly, ‘when I want you to come into my front parlour I will invite you. What is it?’

  ‘I just wondered if you were going to work in the grinding house today, that’s all,’ the man’s tone had become sullen. ‘I don’t know if I should put one of the men in there with Boyo, I haven’t had any instructions from you.’

  Daniel forced himself to remain calm, how dare this upstart address the lady of the house in such familiar terms?

  ‘Perhaps you should know your place,’ he found himself saying. ‘Mrs Hopkins is in no mood to work anywhere, her husband is not yet buried, have some respect man.’

  Matthew’s face grew red, he recognized a man of quality when he saw one, knew a tone of authority when he heard it and yet his pride had taken a knock and that was something he couldn’t permit.

  ‘I’m Matthew Hewson, shareholder in this business, I have a say in how the place runs.’ Why was he explaining himself to this young sprog? Yet Matthew felt compelled to make his position clear.

  ‘In that case you should take decisions yourself and spare Mrs Hopkins any worries.’ This was stating an incontrovertible fact and Matthew knew it. He twisted his cap in his hands and backed towards the door.

  ‘I’ll speak to you later,’ Ellie said, her voice giving nothing away. ‘For now, put someone else in with Boyo, we’ll sort it out when I’ve had time to think.’

  With one last glare in Daniel’s direction, the man left the room and Ellie’s shoulders sagged.

  ‘You do not care for that man, shareholder or not,’ Daniel spoke before he had time to think and Ellie looked at him, her expression telling him that he was right. She shrugged.

  ‘My husband liked Matthew, he thought I’d be cared for by him, thought he would be married before long. Jubilee imagined that what he was doing was for the best.’ She sank into a chair. ‘But Matthew is a single man, it seems he has no intention of getting married in the foreseeable future. It’s not right he and I should be thrown into close proximity, people are bound to talk, to draw the wrong conclusions.’

  Daniel sat opposite her, his writing forgotten. ‘Surely that thought would have occurred to your husband, too?’

  Ellie shook her head. ‘I think Jubilee felt he was invincible. In any case, Matthew lied to him, told him he was about to be married. Jubilee did his best for me.’

  ‘Well you shouldn’t be alone with the man. You have a maid?’ Daniel said though looking round at the sparsely furnished room, he could scarcely believe a maid had worked here for some time, the dust lay thickly on the good furniture, the whole room held an air of neglect as though the occupants of the house barely used it.

  ‘No,’ Ellie looked at her hands, ‘we have no money for such luxuries as maids.’

  ‘Surely the business must be profitable,’ Daniel felt obliged to go on, ‘from what I understand, Mr Hopkins had a substantial amount of capital.’

  ‘I think you have been misinformed. Though Jubilee will have left me well provided for, he didn’t have a fortune, I’m sure.’

  ‘My editor . . .’ Daniel stopped speaking, this really was none of his business. There was one thing, however, he felt he must say. ‘Employ a companion, a lady who will stay here with you, a needy but respectable widow who like yourself has been left alone unprotected. I think you’ll find you have more money than you realize.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Ellie said doubtfully, ‘and I see that it would preserve my husband’s good name but . . .’ She shrugged.

  ‘Your own good name needs protecting, I think you’ll find people are only too ready to talk about a woman alone, especially a young and beautiful one like you.’

  Ellie rose suddenly and moved to the door. ‘Thank you for your interest but if I can’t help you any further then I’ll say good day to you.’

  He looked at her steadily for a moment, she spoke like a lady, she had clearly been well brought up and yet her husband had allowed her to work like a common labourer, it was all very strange.

  He picked up his hat. ‘I think it will suffice for now,’ he said but there was regret in his voice. ‘I offer my condolences on your loss, Mrs Hopkins, and my sincere hope that you will find a suitable companion as soon as possible.’

  As Daniel left the house, the stench from the tannery seemed to permeate the very clothes he was wearing. How people and especially a lady as delicate as Mrs Hopkins could live in such an environment, he failed to comprehend.

  As he walked away from the tan yard, he was aware of Hewson watching him, every line of his body suggesting aggression. That was the way all labourers handled matters, with brute force. Daniel was surprised that the man had been given any part of the business let alone been made a shareholder.

  Whatever Ellie believed to the contrary, there was a substantial amount of money coming to her. Arian Smale had her contacts and they were all a hundred per cent solid, if she said Jubilee Hopkins was a man of wealth then it was so.

  Still, he must remind himself it was none of his business, he’d come here to do a job, that was all. Yet he couldn’t rid himself of the vision of young Mrs Hopkins, her pale face looking up into his as though, silently, she was asking for his help.

  Paul’s behaviour, since the scene on the docks, had improved somewhat. He sat now in the chair at the opposite side of the fire from Bridie, ostensibly reading his charts, though Bridie doubted his attention was fully on them because the light from the window had grown rather too dim to read by.

  A coal shifted in the grate and Paul looked up and caught Bridie’s eye. He smiled and rolled the charts neatly before tying them with a ribbon.

  ‘I’m neglecting my lovely wife,’ he said. ‘Come here and sit on my knee, let me make a fuss of you.’

  Even as she wondered what he was up to, she obeyed him. She found her husband as fascinating as the day she first met him. It seemed a long time ago and yet she remembered every detail of it.

  ‘It was Sarah Frogmore who brought us together, do you remember, Paul?’ She smoothed back his hair. ‘I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, at her supper party, did you realize that?’

  Paul kissed her lightly. ‘Of course and for my part I fell in love with your glorious red hair.’

  Bridie felt inordinately pleased, she and Paul had become like any other married couple, she supposed, taking each other for granted. Well she had learned her lesson, she would make sure she loo
ked after her husband in future. She was well aware of his need for flattery. In that he was like a small boy, desiring approbation. And, as a precaution against any more temptations, she would take pains to see that women the like of Ellie Hopkins didn’t get their claws into Paul. Even if she came to the office, Elias had instructions to turn her away. Paul was her husband, the father of her sons and she would guard what was hers with her life if need be.

  For a moment hate filled her as she thought of Paul walking along the docks side by side with that girl in her rough working clothes, with her red, chapped hands. Oh, she might speak very nicely but she quite clearly was no lady, hadn’t she been cast out by her own family? But then, that was the sort men went for. Oh, they wouldn’t want her in their homes, rearing their children, decidedly not, but in between the sheets was a different matter entirely. Men were ruled by their sexual needs and it was as well for a wife to recognize it.

  ‘You’re very silent, suddenly, what are you thinking?’ Paul nuzzled her neck, his lips warm. Bridie was too clever to reveal her true thoughts.

  ‘Remembering happy times when we were in the first flush of our love.’ Then she hadn’t really known him, hadn’t realized that he would be tempted to stray. And yet, there had been something that cautioned her, an innate feeling that she must keep the reins of the business her father had left her firmly in her own hands.

  ‘We are still in the first flush of love, my sweet, don’t be such an old cynic.’

  Was she cynical? Perhaps so, and perhaps it was just as well, that way there wouldn’t be any more nasty surprises coming her way. But for now she would bask in the warmth of his attention, there weren’t many such moments any more and it was just as well to make the most of them when they came.

  The following week, Paul shipped out with the Marie Clare on a trip across to Ireland. He would be away only a few days and Bridie intended to make the most of the time at her disposal. She had loads to oversee, cargos to direct to the Indies and to China, she must build up her fortune for her own sake and for that of her sons.