Sea Mistress

by Iris Gower

  As if reading her thoughts, he spoke, ‘How about doing your walking exercises for the day? It wouldn’t do to let your limbs grow weak again.’

  Bridie smiled, ‘How would I manage without you, Collins? Come along, then, help me out of my chair.’

  She had been practicing walking for only a week, her legs trembled whenever she tried to stand, her back ached and she feared her spine would not hold her upright but her own determination and Collins’ strength lent her courage.

  ‘Just one step at a time, now.’ Collins talked to her as though she were a child, he chided and encouraged and Bridie, with her arm around his shoulder, realized she was becoming more than a little dependant on him. He was becoming important in her life, could she be falling a little in love with him?

  How that would amuse the people of Swansea, toffee-nosed Bridie Marchant in love with a servant. So what? It had happened before, look at Emily Grenville and John Miller. They had set the town on its heels quite a few years ago by getting married, the rich heiress and the poor cobbler. It had been the talk of Swansea for a time and yet now the couple were accepted everywhere. Not that she could ever think of marrying Collins. She was of good Catholic stock, divorce was certainly not an option for her. In any case, Paul was the father of her sons and he now held the purse-strings. He had her just where he wanted her and even in her most optimistic moments, she could not see a clear way out of her dilemma.

  While Paul was away, she had pondered on how she would react when he returned home. Should she accuse him outright of robbing her? Tell him that she believed he had turned smuggler into the bargain? That course of action appealed to her but some sixth sense warned her she would need to be as devious as he was.

  ‘That’s enough for now, Mrs Marchant, mustn’t overdo it.’ Collins led her towards her chair, easing her into it. Bridie looked gratefully up at him. ‘Do you know, I’m not as tired as I usually am, perhaps I’m getting stronger.’

  Collins gave one of his slow smiles, his face took on a new warmth and she saw with a feeling of tenderness that he was as happy for her as she was for herself.

  ‘What’s your name, Collins?’ She laughed. ‘I mean your Christian name, of course.’

  ‘Simon Peter, my mother was a very religious woman,’ Collins smiled, ‘I think she had dreams of me becoming a lay preacher or something of the sort.’

  Simon. Bridie turned the name over in her mind, it was ironic that a woman who had once had everything she could desire had found the only one to stand by her in adversity was a servant called Simon.

  Collins looked through the open door at the clock in the hall. ‘The Marie Clare will have docked by now, perhaps I should go down to the Ship Inn and meet our Mr Hewson.’

  Bridie felt as nervous as a child at the thought of what she might learn from Hewson. What revelations would he make, would he have found Paul out in some illicit deal, perhaps? She swallowed hard, soon she would be face to face with Paul, what would he say, what would she say? She didn’t know if it was possible to keep her tongue still, to keep her bitter thoughts to herself. Yet there was nothing to be gained by blurting out the truth, that she knew he had cheated her, tricked her into signing the papers that would give him everything. Should she tell him that she had covered his tracks, saved his face and her own by concealing the truth? The story published by the newspaper was the one she had asked Daniel to print, that being too sick to cope, she had willingly given her husband charge of all her assets. It would please him, of course it would, Paul was nothing if not a snob. He would not like to lose his standing in the community.

  When Collins left the house, Bridie tried to occupy herself with the daily chores. She spoke to the cook and organized the evening meal, choosing deliberately to serve Paul’s favourite dishes. Best by far to let him remain in ignorance, she decided bitterly, let him believe she was still his dupe. She bit her lip, how could he have been so grasping, so mercenary? And yet hadn’t she been cheating him? Giving him the short trips, the less profitable trips, well if she had been wrong, her sins had found her out and she was paying for them a hundredfold one way or another.

  It was about an hour later when Collins returned, his shoulders were slumped, he seemed dispirited. ‘The man didn’t turn up,’ he said. ‘I’m very much afraid he might have gone over to the other side.’

  His words chilled Bridie, if Paul had been forewarned, he would have his defenses ready. Her one advantage now was that he didn’t know she suspected him of smuggling. That was one ace she would keep up her sleeve.

  ‘Well, if Hewson has told Paul everything, there is nothing we can do about it,’ Bridie said softly. ‘Paul will be on his guard from now on, we’d have no chance of spying on him. I might as well resign myself to the fact.’

  Collins smiled. ‘Excuse me, Mrs Marchant, but I can’t see you ever being resigned to anything, you’re a fighter, you’ve got spirit.’

  His words warmed her, she held out her hand and caught Collins fingers in her own. ‘Collins . . . Simon, I’m so grateful to you for all you’ve done, I wouldn’t have got through all this without you.’

  His colour rose as she squeezed his hand tightly. ‘In the past I must have been a real bitch to work for,’ she continued. ‘I’m afraid I was brought up to judge people by what they had not what they were.’ She paused still holding onto his hand. ‘I’ve become very fond of you, you know that, don’t you?’

  Collins looked down at her gravely. ‘I will always be your devoted servant, Mrs Marchant.’

  Bridie sighed, he was a man who would always know his place, he would never be so forward as to give any indication of his own feelings.

  It was late when Paul came home. He was smelling strongly of rum and there was a strange, gloating look on his face. He entered Bridie’s bedroom and sat beside her and she searched his face for any sign of the tenderness he’d shown her when she was sick.

  In one of the upstairs rooms, there was the sound of activity, of maids shifting furniture, presumably stripping and remaking beds. Bridie looked up at her husband questioningly and he leaned over her and smiled. ‘I’ve found out your little scheme, madam,’ he said softly, ‘I know you set a man to spy on me, a Matthew Hewson. Well, he was wise enough to see which side his bread was buttered, he knew who would pay him generously for his time. You insulted him by the pitiful advance payment you offered. Hewson isn’t a stupid man, whatever you might think.’ He paused, ‘I worked it out and came to the conclusion that if you were spying on me, it could mean only one thing, you’d learned that I was now in control of the business.’ He lifted his chin. ‘And rightly so, in my opinion.’

  He looked at her with something like triumph in his eyes. ‘I’m glad everything is out in the open, it makes life so much easier for me.’

  ‘I don’t know what you are talking about and can you tell me just what is going on upstairs? The servants are making an awful lot of noise.’ Bridie struggled to sit up against the pillows.

  ‘I’ve brought home the woman I love,’ Paul said. ‘She is to live here, with us.’

  ‘You can’t mean it!’ Bridie felt as though her heart had stopped beating. ‘What of the scandal?’

  ‘You, as the mother of my sons, may stay here for as long as you behave yourself and keep a civil tongue in your head. Carmella will be given the title of housekeeper but have no doubts about it, it is her bed I will be visiting and not yours.’

  Bridie felt anger build up in her like a storm, she wanted to reach out and slap Paul’s face, to slap and slap until the stupid smile was wiped away. Instead she looked at him silently, unbelievingly. He had the audacity to sit there and tell her he had brought a mistress home, into her house, the property bought with her money. He meant to flaunt the woman before Bridie’s very eyes, to humiliate her, his wife. Then, strangely, she was calm. Did she really care what woman Paul had this time? He was bad through and through, he was not worthy of her love.

  He rose to his feet. ‘Oh, by the way, I kno
w what part Collins took in your little scheme so I’ve dismissed him,’ he said. ‘He packs up his things and leaves first thing in the morning.’

  Bridie drew a ragged breath of disbelief. ‘You’ve done what?’ she could barely speak she was so angry, so frightened.

  ‘You heard me, I’ll teach you to spy on me, to cheat me, making money hand over fist from deep sea trade while I had the scraps.’

  ‘I’ve cheated you?’ she said incredulously, ‘That’s rich, it’s you who made me sign the business over to you, you who took advantage of a sick woman, how dare you accuse me of cheating?’

  ‘Well you’d better watch your mouth and you’d better learn to give me a little respect, something you’ve never done in all our married life.’

  ‘But Collins is the only friend I have in the world,’ Bridie protested. ‘I can’t manage without him, if Collins goes, I go, too.’

  Paul looked down at her disdainfully. ‘In love with a servant now, I see, well, we have come down in the world.’ He regarded her almost cruelly for a long moment. ‘But then you haven’t very much to offer these days, have you?’

  He left the room and Bridie fell back on her pillows dry-eyed, wondering how it was she had ever believed that Paul loved her. What was happening to her lately? Her world had come crashing down on her so suddenly and with such a devastating effect that she didn’t know what to think any more, let alone what to feel. She closed her eyes wearily, she was too tired now to sort out the chaos in her mind, far too tired, she must sleep, she simply must sleep.

  In the morning, she had one of the maids pack a bag for her, she had only the vaguest idea where she would go but she knew she couldn’t stay in the same house as Paul and his woman.

  ‘Get Collins for me,’ she said to the maid and the girl bobbed a curtsey, her eyes pitying.

  Bridie was desperate and she knew it. She had no money to go to an hotel, she had no close friends. The only place she could think of where she would be welcome was her cousin’s house in Clydach. Jono would look after her; big, kind-hearted Jono would take her into his home and no questions asked. He would take Collins, too, she felt sure of it, she needed Collins, he would continue to help her walk again. Her health would improve and one day soon, when she was strong, she would see that Paul got his just deserts.

  Paul entered the room as though drawn by the force of her anger, he stared down at her, his eyes narrowed. ‘And where do you think you are going?’

  ‘That’s my business,’ Bridie said coldly. ‘I’m not staying here, that’s for sure.’

  ‘How do you expect to travel in your state?’ Paul was frowning, doubtless he was wondering how her abrupt departure would reflect on him. His next words confirmed her suspicion. ‘And what do you think people are going to say?’

  Bridie glanced up at him, her lips were trembling. ‘I hope you are proud of yourself, Paul, you’ve humiliated me, left me penniless, virtually forced me to leave my own home, what do you think people are going to say?’ She shook her head.

  ‘And what do you think your sons are going to do if you leave home?’ Paul demanded. ‘That’s something you’ve failed to consider, they’ll be home soon from their trip, they will want you to be here. Look, I’ll make you an allowance, you will be cared for, no need to worry about that.’

  ‘Thank you!’ Bridie felt like hitting him. ‘How very generous of you to offer me the crumbs of my own fortune. Well you can keep your offer, I will not stay here and be humiliated any more. I’m leaving you Paul and you can tell people what you wish I no longer care. As for my sons, when they come home it will be their mother they will want, not the man who calls himself father but scarcely ever sees them.’

  ‘If you leave this house now, you will never see the boys again, I’m warning you, Bridie.’

  There was a light tapping on the door and Collins entered the room. He didn’t look at Paul. ‘You wanted me, Mrs Marchant.’

  ‘Yes Collins, I’ll need you to take me to the station.’

  ‘Collins!’ Paul’s voice was sharp, ‘Don’t do any such thing, I’m ordering you to leave us alone.’

  Collins looked at him steadily. ‘You no longer employ me, sir, I accept orders from no-one but Mrs Marchant.’

  Seeing the resolution in the man’s face, Paul turned to Bridie, ‘Where will you go, what will you do for money?’

  ‘I always have some petty cash in the house, if you’d ever taken an interest in the running of the place you’d know that. As for where I’m going, that’s my business.’

  ‘I mean it, Bridie, you’ll lose the boys, you’ll lose everything if you walk out.’

  Bridie ignored him. ‘Collins will you carry me to the hallway please?’

  Collins took her easily in his arms and Paul made one last attempt. ‘Bridie, don’t do this, you’ll be sorry.’

  ‘I’m sorry now,’ she said over Collins’ shoulder, ‘sorry to learn what a fool I was to ever trust you.’

  It was cold outside with an easterly wind blowing along the curving driveway but Bridie, seated in her chair, was warm and comfortable. Collins had thoughtfully provided a rug which he tucked snugly around her legs. Bridie looked up at him, gratitude to this man who had been no more than a servant washing over her.

  ‘We’ll go to my cousin’s house,’ she said over her shoulder as Collins wheeled her along the drive towards the huge double gates leading out of the estate, ‘Jono will take care of everything. You will stay with me won’t you, Collins?’

  ‘Where else would I go, Mrs Marchant? My place is with you.’ His tone was matter of fact and Bridie felt a smile curve the corners of her mouth. She might have lost everything she had once held dear but she had gained much too. She was learning to walk again, she was learning a new humility and most important, she was beginning to realize just how much Collins cared for her.

  It was late afternoon by the time Bridie reached her cousin’s house. The building was modest, made of warm stone it was situated on top of the hill, looking out over the small village spread along the line of the canal.

  Collins knocked on the door and a young maid opened it almost as though she had been expecting them. Behind her, in the cheerfully lit hall, was Jono, a smile spreading across his face as he saw her.

  ‘Bridie, my little love, you’re looking better than when I saw you last in Swansea, bit more colour in your cheeks. You’re not so thin, either. Come into the warm, I’ve got a lovely fire burning in the grate.’ He looked at her bag. ‘You come to stay then?’

  ‘If you’ll have me, Jono.’ She held her breath as between them, Jono and Collins lifted her chair over the few steps leading into the main body of the house.

  ‘My house is your house cariad, you know that.’ Jono looked down from his great height and, tall though Collins was, Jono towered over him.

  ‘This is Simon Collins,’ Bridie explained, ‘he’s a very dear friend.’

  ‘In that case, Collins, you are very welcome, too.’ Jono pumped his hand and Bridie hid a smile knowing that Collins was more than a little embarrassed at being accepted as an equal.

  ‘I have no money, Jono,’ Bridie said when she was settled before the blazing fire. ‘It’s a long story, I’ll tell you all about it later but right now I could do with a wash and a long rest.’

  ‘Both those things are easy enough to provide,’ Jono said in his slow voice. ‘As for money, I’ve got enough for both of us.’ He left the room for a moment and he could be heard issuing orders to the maid to prepare two of the spare rooms and then to fetch some hot water.

  Bridie looked at Collins who was standing uneasily near the door as if wondering what to do next. She smiled, ‘Sit down, for goodness sake, there’s no use trying to stand on ceremony with Jono, he just won’t have it.’

  Her cousin returned to the room. ‘You know I’ve done very well these last few years,’ he said easily. ‘There’s more than enough to go around so you must stay with me just so long as it suits you, right?’

&n
bsp; Bridie nodded, ‘Right.’ Jono had never been short of money but since he had invested in Arian Smale’s newspaper business, he had become quite wealthy. Whatever he had, he had earned it. Jono put his back into the work he did for Arian Smale. Before the publication of The Swansea Times he had rescued the printing machines from the cellar where they had been rusting for years. He had renovated them, treated them lovingly until they were functioning effortlessly again. He had put funds into the enterprise too and Arian Smale had been generous in repaying her debt of gratitude to him.

  Bridie settled back in her chair, waiting with a patience newly learned for her room to be prepared. Jono was seated on her right, his long legs stretched out before the fire. Opposite, on the other side of the fire sat Collins. There was silence but it was an easy, comfortable silence and Bridie felt more at peace than she had done for a very long time.

  Collins was covertly watching her and she was well aware of his scrutiny. He was so necessary to her she mused, and she would never have known the real man at all if it had not been for the events that had changed her life. Who would have thought that in so short a time she would have been cheated out of her dignity as a wife and out of her fortune? She was, in one stroke of the pen, worse off than any of her servants. And yet she was content, she was warm, she was welcomed and she was, she realized, almost happy.

  Matthew felt inordinately pleased with himself. He’d been very clever fooling Bridie Marchant who had thought to buy him off with a paltry few pounds. Everyone in Swansea knew how rich Bridie Marchant was, or had been before her husband had outsmarted her, taken all her money. Paul Marchant was a man after Matthew’s own heart. Not that he would have hesitated to expose him as a crook if it had been in his best interests but the more he spied, something he found he was very good at, the more he had learned about the man and his nefarious dealings. It had been a good day for him when he’d discovered the opium in the hold, safely secreted inside the leather tack.