Arian

by Iris Gower

  ‘Tell me what?’ Arian asked. ‘Another bit of gossip is it?’

  ‘No, more important than that,’ Mrs Bob said with an irritating desire to delay saying what was on her mind. ‘His lordship wanted to see you, said you was to go to the drawing room when you had eaten.’

  Arian nodded and left the room, climbing the stone steps up from the kitchen with a feeling of exhilaration. Calvin wanted to see her and somehow the thought made her very happy.

  ‘Come.’ His voice sounded mellow as it reached her through the closed double doors of the drawing room. Arian obeyed him and bobbed a curtsy as she stood on the threshold of the large room with the heavy drapes closed over the long windows.

  ‘Why is it I feel you’re mocking me whenever you do that?’ Calvin said easily.

  ‘I don’t know, sir.’ She didn’t pretend to misunderstand him – he was an intelligent man and sometimes she felt he could see right through her.

  ‘You were not born to be subservient,’ Calvin continued, ‘and I believe the events in your life have only reinforced the stubborn streak in you.’

  ‘If you mean I’m the independent sort, sir,’ Arian said quickly, ‘then you’re right.’

  ‘Sit down, Arian,’ Calvin said easily. ‘We are alone, there’s no need to be formal.’

  She sat on the edge of one of the finely worked chairs. The old wood gleamed and the satin upholstery had grown mellow with age.

  ‘You have spent quite a lot of your money,’ Calvin said, resting back in his chair, apparently at ease, though his eyes were clear and direct as they looked at her.

  ‘Yes, I have,’ she said, wondering if he was going to put a curb on her outgoings. After all, it was his money, not hers. She felt a tremble of annoyance – he was supposed to be trusting her with the business.

  ‘Have I done anything wrong in your opinion?’ she asked and was irritated by his quick smile.

  ‘Don’t be so prickly, Arian,’ he said. ‘I am not criticizing. There’s plenty more money where that came from, it’s not that.’

  ‘What then?’ Arian asked more cautiously. ‘Have you any reservations about my judgement?’

  ‘It’s this company you are buying from,’ Calvin said. ‘I know nothing of them. They are French I believe?’

  ‘Indeed,’ Arian replied rather haughtily, ‘you buy French calf from the French. Their representative was very trustworthy, he spent a great deal of time with me. I decided then to buy in bulk so I’ll have a fair stock of my own leather.’

  ‘I see.’ Calvin looked thoughtful and Arian had the feeling he was not reassured.

  ‘Some of the, stock has already been sold to Craig Grenfell,’ she spoke quickly, feeling that somehow it was important to convince him that she knew what she was doing, ‘so I’ve already recouped most of my outlay. With the rest of the calf, I hope to make my profit.’

  ‘Then you are happy with the goods that this French company have supplied?’

  ‘I saw some excellent samples of leather. I had to decide to buy at once or miss a bargain. The ship sails from France next week.’

  Calvin was silent for a moment then he sat forward in his chair. ‘Arian, would you like me to make enquiries about the French company, to assure us both that they are reliable?’

  ‘That’s really not necessary. The representative named some eminent people who are buying from his firm.’ She wished Calvin to keep out of her business. ‘I would like you to leave me to sort it out,’ she said. ‘Try to trust me to run things my own way.’

  ‘Very well,’ he said and she felt she was being dismissed.

  ‘Are you sorry then?’ She couldn’t leave the matter alone. ‘Sorry that you put me in charge of so much money, I mean?’

  He came towards her and smiled down at her easily. ‘I will have to bide my time before I answer that question,’ he said. ‘I’m sure of one thing – that you are entirely trustworthy whatever the evidence to the contrary.’

  She coloured, knowing he was referring to the lost five guineas. At least he didn’t believe she’d taken the money and she was inordinately pleased at the revelation.

  ‘As for me, I have made a few mistakes recently and seem to be losing my grip on business matters. I have made losses but fortunately nothing irretrievable.’

  ‘I won’t lose your money,’ Arian said and even to her own ears, her voice sounded a little desperate. She knew that Simples had been handling Calvin’s interests and a shiver of apprehension gripped her. If mistakes had been made, they were Simples’s mistakes, so what if he was wrong about this French company?

  ‘Don’t look so worried.’ Calvin’s voice was gentle. ‘I am not in the workhouse yet.’

  He was very close to her and Arian felt the magnetism of him strongly. She knew that she found him attractive, she had done from the night she had helped him into bed and she had pressed her mouth to his. If she was to be honest, perhaps even long before that. But now she felt more … she had an overwhelming desire to protect him, to hold him safe in her arms, to … God! She was all sorts of a fool.

  His hand was on her shoulder and his fingers seemed to burn into her skin. ‘Arian …’ he said, ‘sweet, serious child.’

  She wanted him to kiss her, to hold her close, to touch her breasts, to make love to her. He moved away.

  ‘Go along then, I won’t trouble you again. You are quite right. You must run your business as you see fit and I have no right to interfere.’

  Disappointment swamped her. She felt as though a door had been slammed in her face. ‘Thank you, sir,’ she said and moved woodenly across the room. What made her think for one moment that he would want her? She was shop-soiled goods and, what’s more, not of his class. He had the beautiful Daphne to take to his bed; what need did he have for a girl from the farmlands, a girl who had known other men?

  In her room, she sank trembling onto the bed and stared down at her hands. They were bare of rings – she belonged nowhere and to no-one. Perhaps, she thought ruefully, she should take up Simples’s offer of marriage after all. He was a man and he wanted to make her respectable.

  ‘Fool!’ she said and the word fell softly into the silence. Arian kicked off her shoes and then knelt and put a few more coals on the dying fire.

  She felt alone and empty. She might as well face it, she was in love with Calvin Temple, which was absurd; all he felt for her was a vague sort of pity, a wish to help her make something of her life. And why should he feel anything more?

  He knew something of her past, he certainly knew about Eddie who had been her lover. He had helped Eddie get on in life and, in the same way, he was attempting to help her. That was all.

  She undressed, washed and drew on her cotton nightgown and all the time she was fighting the tears. It seemed there was a heavy weight of grief within her for the innocence she had lost. She wanted to be clean, to be whole again, to be worthy of the love of a man like Calvin Temple.

  Suddenly she flung herself face down on the bed. She wanted to be loved by him. He fascinated her, he was a tall handsome man, but it was more than that, he had a mind that seemed to be in tune with hers so that he almost knew what she was thinking before she did.

  She felt the tears constrict her throat and told herself she was crying for something she could never have. She pressed her mouth into the pillow not to cry out loud. She felt old pain and fear rise up within her, old nightmares that had ceased to trouble her seemed to come alive again.

  She didn’t hear the door open, or hear the light footsteps approaching across the carpet. But she did feel hands on her shoulders – kind masculine hands.

  Eagerly she turned, thinking Calvin had come to her but the breath left her body as she saw that it was Simples bending over her, his face full of concern.

  ‘What’s wrong, Miss Smale?’ he asked. ‘Has anyone hurt you?’ He leaned closer to her and she resisted the urge to pull away from him. He was only trying to be kind she told herself sharply.

  She shook her head.
‘No, it’s just that I suddenly felt so alone.’ She hated herself as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Why was she giving Simples any excuse to get close to her?

  ‘You are not alone, Miss Smale.’ He spoke softly and in the glow from the fire he appeared simply handsome without the air of menace that usually surrounded him. Arian felt herself relax a little. Simples had said that he would never force her and in that, at least, she believed him.

  He knelt beside her on the bed and with a crisp clean handkerchief he dried the tears from her eyes. ‘Never think you are alone,’ he repeated. ‘I am always going to be here to take care of you. You must know that, I’ve told you plainly enough.’

  She felt she should make him go away and yet his concern was strangely comforting. ‘I’m all right, now, thank you,’ she said quietly.

  She felt suddenly vulnerable in her cotton nightgown and she was aware that the buttons were open and the softness of her breasts was clearly visible. It was to Simples’s credit that he didn’t try to take advantage of the situation as some men might have done.

  He touched her cheek lightly. ‘I know what you are thinking, Miss Smale,’ he said, ‘and don’t think I’m not moved by your … your state of undress but I am not the sort of man to force any woman, let alone the woman I am in love with.’

  ‘No,’ Arian protested, ‘you don’t love me, Mr Simples. You don’t know me.’

  ‘Very well, we won’t argue about it.’ Simples moved away from her and Arian took a deep breath, savouring the relief she felt at his willingness to accept defeat so easily.

  He seemed to lift his head, as though listening and then he looked at Arian. ‘Come to the door with me, Miss Smale. Make sure it is closed securely and try to get a good night’s sleep, that’s the best thing for you just now.’

  She obeyed him and meekly crossed the room behind him. In the doorway, he held onto the handle and turned to her. ‘Remember, get a good night’s sleep now. You need it.’

  Arian saw a shadow over Simples’s shoulder and across the landing. She was aware of Calvin standing looking at her. She realized how the situation must appear; she in her nightgown with her hair dishevelled and Simples bidding her have a good night’s sleep.

  She lifted her chin. Well, she had no reputation to lose so why should she worry what he thought? She closed the door and retreated towards the bed and now her eyes were heavy and dry, there were no more tears. Tears were futile, they solved nothing.

  The next day in the office, Simples acted as though nothing untoward had taken place the night before. Observing him, Arian wondered at his steadfast belief that some day she would marry him. She shivered. Now in the cold light of day, she knew that she could never even like him, let alone accept him as a husband, not if she was left alone for the rest of her days.

  And yet he was quite a good-looking man, although his mouth was perhaps a little narrow, and his eyes held a remote expression, as though his thoughts were guarded. Yet last night his expression had been far from cold when he had looked down at her in compassion.

  What was it about him that repelled her then? Was it only his passing resemblance to Price Davies, the man she hated still even though he was dead?

  With the thoughts of the past came a reminder of the feeling of affinity she felt for Fon O’Conner. Fon had been a good friend to her in the bad days, had shared with her some of the ordeal of being imprisoned and in danger. Fon, however, had escaped unscathed. She was happy now, her bad memories erased by her husband’s love. Fon was the lucky one.

  Arian felt she would never know what it was like to love and be loved in return. She had never been part of a normal family, even during her childhood. She had been afraid of her father, afraid of his anger and his violence after his drinking bouts.

  She smiled wryly. Perhaps she should settle for being a courtesan to a rich man. To Calvin Temple, a voice said inside her head and a feeling of warmth filled her at the very thought of belonging to him even in some small measure.

  Well Calvin did not want her, not in that way, not in any way. She heard Simples talking quietly to Bella in the small kitchen and she forced herself to concentrate on the work in hand.

  ‘Mr Simples?’ she raised her voice so that he would hear her above the sound of the kettle singing on the stove. ‘Could you come in a moment please?’

  He came at once, his crisp collar making his skin seem darker. His moustache was trimmed and elegant, and his suit was immaculate. Why couldn’t she like him just a little? It would make life so much easier.

  ‘The ship should be in dock now, shouldn’t it?’ she asked. ‘The one with the calf, I mean. Wasn’t the Marie Clare due in today?’

  ‘I believe so Miss Smale. Shall I walk along to the shipping office and enquire?’

  ‘That would be very kind,’ Arian said, forcing down the feeling of unease that had suddenly gripped her. If anything was to go wrong with this, her first order, she would have failed before she’d begun.

  She went to the window and watched as Simples stopped to talk to a group of sailors. Impatiently she urged him, in her mind, to get on with his job. She was anxious now, worried that the ship had been delayed or worse. What if it had gone down with all her stock of precious calf?

  She was being foolish and she knew it – she was over-reacting to her own sense of fear. She turned as Bella came into the office with a tray of tea, giggling and blushing, and Arian looked at her curiously.

  ‘It’s them sailors, Arian,’ Bella said, ‘talking to me by the back door they was, telling me that two beautiful women like us shouldn’t be here alone, might get eaten up by big bad sailor boys. Aren’t they awful?’

  ‘Don’t encourage that sort of talk, Bella.’ Arian’s voice was sharper than she’d intended and Bella looked at her askance.

  ‘They was only joking, mind,’ she said. ‘Good boys they are, known some of them for years. It’s only the foreigners you have to watch.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Bella.’ Arian sank into her chair and accepted a cup of tea. ‘I’m a bit on edge this morning.’

  ‘Aye, I can see that.’ Bella looked at her from under her eyelashes. ‘Don’t know what to make of you working by here mind,’ she ventured. ‘Not a job for a girl, is it? You could have his lordship like a shot, be his … what do you say, mistress?’ She sat in the chair opposite Arian – familiarity that would never have arisen had Arian not once been a servant just like Bella herself.

  ‘He got an itch for you, mind,’ Bella continued. ‘Anyone can see that. Take you to bed like a shot he would and be good to you, mind.’

  Arian drank her tea without replying. How wrong could Bella be? Calvin was not interested in Arian as a woman; he had told her that once in plain English. He wanted to help her, that was all.

  ‘Then there’s Mr Simples,’ Bella went on remorselessly. ‘He’s daft on you. He would like to put a ring on your finger, make you his wife. What more could any girl ask than the love of a fine upright man like him?’

  Arian sighed. ‘Bella, you make a lovely cup of tea but I can do without the advice, thank you.’

  ‘Oh, right, be like that then,’ Bella said, ‘but there’s tears when a woman takes on a man’s job, you mark my words. No good will come of all this business stuff.’

  It seemed that Bella’s words were to be prophetic. Gerald Simples returned to the office with a frown creasing his forehead and Arian stared up from her empty order book with fear breathing a cold breath over her.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked. ‘Hasn’t the Marie Clare docked yet?’

  Gerald Simples closed the door and approached the desk. ‘Oh, yes,’ he said, ‘it’s docked all right.’

  ‘Well then?’ Arian urged, her eyes wide as she tried to read something from Simples’ expression. He shrugged.

  ‘It’s just that the load of calf is not aboard,’ he said bleakly. ‘Something has gone very wrong.’

  Arian sank back in her chair and a sense of despair swept through her. S
he put her hands over her face and tried to hold back the fear that beat with dark wings against her temples.

  ‘Don’t worry, Miss Smale,’ Simples’s voice reached her as though from a long way off. ‘I’ll sort it all out, don’t you worry now. Just you leave everything to me.’

  She looked up at him with fresh hope. ‘Do you mean it? Do you think you can find out what’s happened?’

  ‘I would do anything for you, Miss Smale,’ Gerald Simples looked at her gravely, ‘anything.’

  Why was it then, that when he left the room Arian was not reassured? Why did the fear still lie like a heavy burden inside her? She rose from her desk and stared through the window, seeing the sailors strolling along the pier or the cold pewter waters of the docks. All she could see was Calvin’s face in her mind’s eye and hear his voice as he told her that he had lost his touch as a businessman. Perhaps he was right and she was just another one of his mistakes. Perhaps she should get out now before she lost him any more money. But no, she would wait for Simples to return. He would do his best for her, she felt that in her bones, and for the first time, she knew the faint stirrings of gratitude to the man.

  She returned to her desk. All her resolve and sense of purpose seemed to have vanished. Hope had been short-lived. Her optimism had withered on the vine. She was defeated by the first hurdle. Where was her spirit, her sense of adventure, her longing for achievement? It had all gone, lost somewhere in a sea of uncertainty and Arian Smale no longer knew which direction she must take.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Fon O’Conner contemplated the sky above Honey’s Farm with the attitude of a woman seeing the clouds for the last time. She trembled with fear as she stared through the window and bit her lip to keep from crying out in panic.

  ‘Can I fetch you something, Fon?’ April Jones’s voice was tremulous. She chewed her nails and regarded Fon with fearful eyes. Fon made an effort to control herself.

  ‘It’s all right, April. Jamie’s gone for the doctor. I’m going to be just fine, I’m only having another baby so don’t you worry.’