Sea Mistress

by Iris Gower

  She heard the distant ringing of the doorbell and moved to the window, staring out at the figure standing in the street. The maid was out, the offices downstairs were closed, the shutters drawn and yet the man who stood outside appeared determined on gaining a response to his repeated rings. The bell sounded again, the very note of it expressing impatience.

  Arian made her way along the passage and began to descend the stairs, apprehension gripping her. Perhaps, she thought with rising panic, someone had come from Calvin, he could be sick. The matter certainly must be urgent for the caller to be so persistent. She opened the door to a man who appeared vaguely familiar.

  ‘I’m sorry to trouble you.’ He was well set, presentably dressed and quite good-looking.

  ‘My name is Matthew Hewson, I used to work for Ellie Hopkins. I have some information that I think might interest you.’

  She remembered then that this was the man who had spoken to Mac about the smuggling. ‘Come into the office,’ she opened the door wider. ‘We can talk in here.’

  She indicated a chair behind the long counter, ‘Please, sit down, make yourself comfortable.’ She took up a pencil and a pad and faced him. ‘In your own words and in your own good time, tell me your story.’ She spoke encouragingly and Matthew Hewson nodded, leaning forward slightly in his chair.

  ‘It’s about the opium smuggling,’ he began and Arian looked at him warily. ‘It’s a good story.’

  ‘Do you know where Paul Marchant has gone? That would be what I would call a good story.’

  ‘He was being kept on board ship against his will, I was there with him but they let me go. I know the name of the man who was buying the contraband.’

  ‘Go on,’ Arian said.

  ‘First I’d like to know how much you will pay me, Miss Smale,’ he spoke smoothly, obviously sure of himself.

  ‘Give me something to go on,’ Arian said, ‘and then I’ll decide how much it’s worth.’

  Matthew Hewson nodded, ‘All right, Paul Marchant might be dead, Monkton is the boss man, he’s not one to cross but before I say any more, let’s talk money, shall we?’

  It was Ellie’s wedding day. She was dressed in an oyster satin gown, the neck was square and the bodice decorated with frills, the overskirt was folded at the front, dipping longer at the back. The sleeves were elbow length with puffs of cream coloured chiffon. Her shoes were the latest court design made of oyster satin to match her gown.

  ‘You look lovely, Ellie.’ Rosie stood looking at her admiringly and Ellie took a deep breath, feeling her hands tremble in nervous anticipation.

  ‘Don’t look so worried,’ Martha was smiling, ‘it’s a wedding, remember?’

  ‘I know.’ Ellie could scarcely speak. ‘I just hope I’m doing the right thing, Daniel hasn’t finished college yet, he’s going to be away a great deal of the time.’

  ‘So, when he is home you’ll be able to spend all your time together.’

  She was right, Ellie bit her lip, she loved Dan, she was happy to be his wife, why then was this niggling doubt plaguing her?

  ‘The carriage is here,’ Martha said, peering through the window. ‘And there’s Caradoc Jones, dressed up in all his Sunday best, ready to stand up for you. Oh, I do love a wedding.’

  Rosie was suddenly animated, flinging open the door and rushing outside with such haste that she almost tripped over her new shiny boots.

  ‘Here’s your parasol,’ Martha said briskly, ‘and your bag, they match beautifully, you really do have such good taste Ellie.’

  How Ellie forced her shaking legs to carry her towards the coach she didn’t know but she found herself seated near the window with Caradoc Jones beside her and with Martha and a flushed Rosie on the opposite seat. The carriage jolted into movement and Ellie glanced back at the rambling house where she had spent the last five years of her life. A lump came to her throat as she thought of Jubilee, dead now over a year, surely if he was looking down at her at this moment he would be wishing her happiness?

  The old buildings of Swansea seemed to fly past the window, insubstantial, ghostly. Ellie looked at the streets, so familiar to her and scarcely saw them. What if Dan changed his mind, what if he hadn’t made the journey last night from Lampeter, what if he’d been held up somehow, delayed, had an accident on the road? But she must stop panicking, it was foolish of her, it did no-one any good.

  At last the towering pinnacle of the church spire came into view and Ellie took a deep breath, trying to control the beating of her heart.

  When the carriage jerked to a halt, Caradoc stepped down and turned to help her into the roadway. A few people had gathered outside the church, anticipated a wedding as the bells pealed out into the still air and Ellie held her head high as she walked towards the entrance porch.

  Inside, it was cool and dim after the brightness of the sun. The unmistakable smell of old bibles and wax polish drifted towards her mingling with the scent of fresh flowers placed before the alter.

  He was there. Daniel stood tall and proud, his shoulders erect, his head high. Beside him was his brother. They were alike and yet different, with Dan standing at least six inches the taller of the two men. She stopped beside him and his hand reached out and took hers in a firm grip and all at once her nervousness vanished.

  The vicar began to speak. ‘Dear friends, this is a marriage between a charming young lady and an ordinand, a man who intends to take my job from me, one day.’ A small ripple of appreciative laughter went through the congregation. ‘I wish them every happiness and may God’s blessing be always with them.’

  Ellie smiled proudly up at Daniel, happy that his place in the church was being recognized.

  The vicar began the ceremony and Ellie, conscious only of Daniel’s nearness, scarcely heard the words of it being spoken. She made her vows with a quiet but firm voice. Daniel said his vows clearly, in strong, precise tones, already he sounded like a cleric. It seemed to go on for a long time, the sun shone in through the windows, a bee droned, searching the flowers for honey and Ellie thought she had never been so happy in all her life.

  Then it was over, the organ music swelled, filling the church with magical sound and Ellie was walking towards the sunshine holding the arm of the man she loved.

  They stayed the night in the Macworth Hotel in High Street. The room was cool and looked out onto the busy roadway. Shadows slanted across the carpet and dulled the colours of the covers on the bed.

  As Ellie undressed, she felt a sense of unreality, it was all so strange, the opulent room, the heavy, unfamiliar drapes, the long corridors outside housing other people, strangers, it was all so unsettling.

  Daniel came to her and took her in his arms. ‘Don’t be afraid, Ellie,’ he said softly, ‘it’s very strange for me, too, let’s learn to be husband and wife together, shall we?’

  He helped her to undress and hung her gown carefully in the heavy wardrobe. She smiled, he was very neat, putting away his clothes so that they wouldn’t crease. Doubtless being at college had taught him that to take care of his clothes saved him effort in the long run.

  ‘Don’t laugh at your husband’s funny little ways,’ he said catching her eye, ‘I can’t help it if I’m a compulsive tidier, can I?’

  She slipped into the big double bed, the sheets felt cold, unaired and for a moment, homesickness gripped her. She wished in that instant that she was at Glyn Hir safe in her own familiar room. Alone.

  Daniel was beside her then, taking her gently into his arms. He held her close and kissed her hair. She closed her eyes and clung to him praying she would not disappoint him, that she would always be a worthy wife to him. Love-making wasn’t new to her, she had had a vigorous lover in Calvin Temple. She knew too, what it was like to lie night after night with Jubilee who had been a heavy sleeper but a restless bedfellow. But now, everything was changed, she was making a new beginning and she wondered if she was able to cope with all the emotion that was filling her.

  She allowed Daniel to kiss
her, to divest her of her new nightgown, she felt him tremble and knew his uncertainties were just as real as her own. A warmth filled her, she clung to him, pressing herself against him. He was the man she loved, her darling Daniel, the man she would spend the rest of her life with.

  She felt a moment of pure joy when Dan took her, the feeling transcended anything she had ever known. He was gentle and sure, his touch delicate, his every move designed to make her happy. She found tears springing to her eyes. She clung to him, wanting to be closer, to be part of him. Passion and happiness fused together and she pressed her lips against the firmness of his shoulder to prevent herself from crying out in joy.

  Later, they lay side by side, Dan smoothed her neck and shoulder, his finger coming to rest on the mole just above her breast. ‘A lovely beauty spot, for my eyes only,’ he said gently.

  A shadow fell over Ellie’s happiness, those words had been said before, by another man, by Matthew Hewson. She realized in that moment what harm he could do her if he so chose and she shuddered.

  ‘What’s wrong, Ellie, a goose walk over your grave?’ Dan said drawing her close to him. ‘It’s all right, everything is all right, nothing can harm us now, we’re man and wife together and no man shall put us asunder.’

  Arian looked down at her notes and a frown creased her brow, she didn’t know if she could use this story, the information about Paul being held on board this man’s ship was all speculative at the moment without any proof to back it up. Regarding the smuggling, Matthew Hewson knew what he was talking about, no doubt about it. He had dates and times and a thorough knowledge of the methods used to transport the opium to Ireland. Leather from Glyn Hir tannery had been used to conceal the smuggled cargo and it was the Marchant ships which had carried the contraband on regular trips across the Irish Sea.

  At last, Arian put down her notes, she would go downstairs, see Mac, ask him what he thought about it all, perhaps he could unearth some other facts, facts that might determine what exactly had happened to Paul Marchant.

  Mac looked up from his desk as Arian stood before him, her face grave. ‘What’s up, looks as if you’ve swallowed something sour,’ he said in his usual irreverent manner.

  ‘I want to talk to you.’ Arian closed the door of his office, shutting out the noise from the larger room where the other reporters sat at their machines, typing up their latest efforts.

  ‘Read these.’ Arian put the notes on the desk and Mac bent over them adjusting his newly acquired glasses. After a moment he looked up. ‘Nothing really new, is there, this is more or less what Hewson told me before.’

  ‘Except for the fact that Paul Marchant might be held prisoner, might even be dead.’

  He looked up at her. ‘Do you want to go with it?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Arian said slowly, ‘I want you to find out a great deal more. I’d like you to . . .’

  ‘I know,’ Mac rose to his feet, ‘you’d like me to dig a little, see what I come up with.’

  ‘Exactly. Find out why this Matthew Hewson has it in for both Ellie and Bridie Marchant, if he’s trying to implicate them in this smuggling racket there must be some very powerful motive behind it. But most importantly try to learn what has happened to Paul Marchant.’

  ‘What did you pay him, this man Hewson?’ Mac, as usual came straight to the point. Arian grimaced. ‘I take your point, Hewson’s motive might simply be greed. You’re right, of course.’

  ‘Well, might as well give my own brain a challenge,’ Mac said pulling on his white scarf and his battered hat, setting it at a jaunty angle on his head. ‘Things have been a bit too quiet around here for my liking, about time we had a shake up.’

  ‘If we learn what’s happened to Paul Marchant there’ll be a shake up, all right,’ Arian said dryly. ‘But we must be sure of the facts before we publish anything.’

  ‘Aren’t we always?’ Mac bent down and kissed her cheek. ‘You do know you’re looking decidedly under the weather, don’t you?’ He leaned back on his heels and studied her face. ‘Not enough love life these days, that’s what’s wrong with you.’

  She slapped him playfully, ‘Get on with your job and leave the homespun philosophy to others more qualified.’

  ‘And who is better qualified than a gifted journalist?’ Mac smiled. ‘People like me can read the minds of lesser mortals, didn’t you know that?’

  ‘Out!’ Arian smiled as Mac retreated towards the door in a pretence of being frightened by her tone.

  ‘I’m going boss lady, I’m on my way.’ He left the door open and Arian paused listening to the chatter from the other room. The voices that rose above the clatter of the typewriting machines were eager, young and she suddenly felt very jaded.

  ‘It’s our anniversary today,’ Daniel held a bouquet of roses before him and smiled down at Ellie.

  ‘Quite right,’ she said smiling, ‘it’s a week today since I gave up my freedom to become a slave to the kitchen sink here at Glyn Hir.’

  ‘Huh!’ Daniel pressed the flowers into her hands. ‘Poor hard done by wife, my heart bleeds for you.’ He leaned forward and kissed her lightly.

  ‘Dan,’ she said quietly, ‘do you realize that this is our last night together, tomorrow you’ll be off back to college?’

  ‘I know,’ he sighed, ‘but you’ll have plenty to occupy you, you’ll have to find us a house, a modest one mind, I’m not a rich man and you must remember that.’ He looked round, ‘We can’t live at the tannery for ever, can we? I sometimes wish you didn’t own the place.’

  ‘Dan, why not let me . . .’ her words trailed away as he held up his hand.

  ‘No, you let me,’ he said. ‘I know you have far more money than I could ever earn in a lifetime but at least allow me to pay for the roof over our heads.’

  ‘All right,’ Ellie said, ‘a modest house it will be, then. Can we afford to have Martha with us and Rosie too, of course?’

  ‘I dare say I can run to a small staff,’ Daniel said soberly, ‘it’s only fitting that the wife of a cleric should live respectably.’

  ‘I’m going to miss you dreadfully,’ Ellie said, attempting and failing to keep her voice light.

  ‘I’m going to miss you, too, my little sweetheart.’ Disregarding the flowers, Daniel took her in his arms and held her close. ‘Just remember that God intends us to be together, you will make me a perfect wife,’ he whispered against her mouth. Ellie felt a touch of unease, Daniel was building his hopes too high, he was placing her on a pedestal.

  ‘Dan,’ she placed her hands on either side of his cheeks, ‘please don’t forget I’m only human and that I’m fallible. I’m no saint, never was never will be.’

  ‘Your past is over and done with,’ Daniel said firmly, ‘you are a different person now, you are older and wiser.’

  ‘But Dan, I don’t have your unshakable faith,’ the words were spoken in little more than a whisper. ‘I felt the power of Evan Robert’s words, of course I did and I want to be good enough for you, good enough to play the role of a vicar’s wife but don’t expect too much of me, will you?’

  He released her. ‘I’m going into the garden, I’m going to have a last puff of my pipe and I don’t want to have Martha reading me the riot act so tell her I’m taking my evening constitutional.’ He smiled, ‘Out of sight, out of mind.’ He tweaked a curl of Ellie’s hair. ‘You see, I’m not perfect, either, I’m not above a little bit of deception if it will give me the quiet life I crave.’

  Ellie sighed softly as the door closed behind Daniel, she wanted to be with him every moment, she even begrudged this small parting from him. All too soon, she would have to manage without him, she in Swansea and he sixty miles away in Lampeter.

  She took a deep breath and walked towards the parlour, she might as well join Martha for a little while. Her mouth curved into a smile, before too long, if she knew Daniel, he would suggest an early night and then they would lie in each other’s arms until dawn washed the floor of the bedroom with rosy light.
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  Daniel looked up at the cloudless night sky, the stars were bright, appearing close enough to touch. It was warm still, it had been a balmy summer’s day, a day he would hold to him, a memory of the time spent with Ellie, his dear wife.

  Daniel turned, hearing a sound beyond the garden gate. As his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, he made out the figure of a man standing on the pathway leading away from the house, he was still and quiet as though he had been watching Daniel. Behind him was the shadowy outline of a horse, head down as though weary of waiting. Perhaps they had been there a long time, Daniel thought. ‘Can I help you old chap?’ Daniel moved closer and then he recognized the man. ‘Hewson, what are you doing here?’

  ‘I came to do you a favour – old chap.’ The tone was sarcastic.

  ‘I need no favours from you.’ Daniel’s hands clenched into fists, this man had the power to take all the Christian charity from his soul. He turned away but Hewson stopped him in his tracks.

  ‘It’s about your little wife, Ellie.’ The words fell softly, insidiously into the darkness. In spite of himself, Daniel turned, waiting for the man to go on.

  ‘Bedded her by now, I expect,’ Hewson said leaning nonchalantly on the gate. Daniel felt anger sing in his blood, this man was attempting to sully the beautiful union between him and Ellie.

  ‘Shut your mouth!’ Daniel heard the harshness in his voice and took a deep breath. He was playing into Hewson’s hands, allowing the man to rile him.

  ‘Don’t be so uppity,’ Hewson’s voice continued remorselessly, ‘we have such a lot in common, you and me, old chap.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about and I doubt you do either.’

  ‘Oh but I do. That sweet little mole on Ellie’s shoulder just above her breast, I never see it without feeling the urge to kiss it.’

  Daniel froze, in that instant he knew that he was capable of murder. He moved forward but Hewson was too quick for him. He turned and mounted his horse.

  ‘Give my regards to your wife,’ Hewson said, ‘tell her I’ll be there to keep her warm while you are away.’