“Thank you so much for agreeing to see me, Mrs Caldicott. Were your husband available, I should not have dreamt of troubling you, but I understand that he is at sea, and not expected home for some days yet.”
“That is so. He commands the Brig Minerva, which is due to return in a few days, but with the vagaries of the weather and so forth…”
“Oh, quite, quite. Then perhaps I may be permitted to address my enquiries to you, in his absence?” She nodded her assent. “You are most gracious, madam.”
He made her a small bow, and there was a brightness in his eye as he looked at her that she recognised. Such looks had once been very familiar to her. She had danced or moved about or talked or simply walked into a room, and men had looked at her with just such admiration. It startled her to realise that she still had that power. How gratifying that, at the age of six and twenty, she could arouse such a response in a passing stranger. She was aware of a little bloom of pleasure inside her, for who could not delight in having an admirer, even one so fleeting as Mr Harbottle?
He went on, “Let me not try your patience with useless chatter, but get straight to the point. I am searching for my cousin, one Felix Harbottle from Yorkshire, who was a naval officer at one time with the rank of captain. There was a breach with the family some twenty years ago when he married against the wishes of his father and mother. We lost touch with him, although he wrote to his mother every year on her birthday — each time from a different port. So we know he is still alive, and still hearing the call of the sea, although no longer with the navy. Now his mother wishes to set aside the past and reconcile with her son, so she has charged me with the task of finding him. For two years, Mrs Caldicott, I have been searching diligently, but so far in vain. The navy has no trace of him, his former friends have had no word of him, and so I have moved from port to port, enquiring.”
“From port to port? There are a great many ports in this country, sir.”
He laughed, and again Nell noticed those deep blue eyes, and his hair just that colour she so admired — like pale honey. But she had been driven astray by fair hair and amused blue eyes before, she reminded herself sternly.
“It is indeed one of the disadvantages of an island nation that there are a great many ports, and sometimes I feel as if I have ventured into every one of them. However, most are fishing ports only, and I cannot feel that a former naval captain would be commanding a trawler, so I have restricted myself to the major ports only. I began with those from which a letter had arrived, and have now extended my reach to others, and here I am in your fair town, Mrs Caldicott. Southampton is a charming place and has… many attractions…” Here he paused and looked at Nell in a manner which there was no mistaking. “However, in one respect it differs not a whit from every other port in the country, in that no one has ever heard of Captain Felix Harbottle. May I hope for better tidings from you, Mrs Caldicott? Has your husband ever mentioned such a person?”
“I am very sorry, Mr Harbottle, but he has not.”
“Am I correct in thinking that Captain Caldicott was also in His Majesty’s Navy at one time?”
“He was, but it is a very large navy,” she said with a smile. “I do not imagine Captain Caldicott knew more than a small number of its officers. Besides, he rarely speaks of his time in the navy. One or two of the battles, sometimes, with his son, who has an interest in such things, but nothing of the people he knew.”
It was a thing she had always thought odd, that he could talk impersonally of this battle or that, almost like an account in the newspaper, yet never mention the men involved. She had supposed it was his way of coping with the horrors of war, and had never pressed him.
“Do you know of any man, any officer on a ship and formerly in the navy, answering to my cousin’s description? A man of three and forty, with fair hair and blue eyes?”
Nell considered that. “Captain Walker?” Mr Harbottle shook his head. “Captain Phillipson, then. Oh, but he was never in the navy, I believe.”
“I have already talked to both those gentlemen, and neither of them has graced His Majesty’s Navy.”
“It is a common combination of features, but the navy... so few men leave the navy entirely. And then there is the age. My own husband would fit that description precisely, except for the age. He is not yet forty. Also, he married only nine years ago, not twenty, so his history is very different from that of your cousin. I am so sorry I cannot help.”
“There is just one more chance. May I show you my cousin’s likeness? It is possible you have encountered him under a different name, perhaps, or passed him by in the street.” He produced a small framed miniature from a pocket, and handed it to her. “It was taken when he was but fifteen and only a midshipman, almost thirty years ago, but it is all we have of him.”
She gazed at the boy’s face, youthful and optimistic, and remembered the time when Jude had been just as hopeful of life, his eyes bright and lips curved into a perpetual smile, before disappointment had soured his disposition.
“I am very sorry,” she said. “I do not recognise him. Maria, you go about the town more than I do — do you know anyone like this?”
Maria examined it, but then she shook her head. “He is a fine looking young man, but I don’t know him.”
“Ah.” Mr Harbottle sat back in his chair, disappointment written on his countenance. “That is a pity. But perhaps you would be so good as to tell your husband of my enquiry, Mrs Caldicott? He may write to me if he has any information.”
“I shall certainly tell him, sir. May I offer you some refreshment, Mr Harbottle? I am afraid that I have no tea or wine today, but there is ale and cake if—”
“You are too kind, but I will take up no more of your time, madam,” he said rising gracefully to his feet. “And you three,” he added, looking at the children, “may return to your studies. What is the lesson today?”
They sat mutely, staring at him.
Nell laughed. “Do not imagine them to be ill-mannered, Mr Harbottle. They have been given the strictest instructions not to speak a word while you are here, on pain of— Well, I shall think of some dire penalty, I daresay.”
“Then they are exceptionally dutiful, and I commend them,” he said at once. “And their mamas, who have instilled such obedience into them. But may I examine your slates and see if I may guess the topic?”
Permission granted, he bounded across the room and picked up one of the slates. “ ‘Six yards of muffin at one and six the yard’. Muffin? Oh, muslin. That should be easy… let me see… that will be… four and fivepence three farthings… no, wait… twelve guineas… no, no, that cannot be right…”
The children giggled, and Nell smiled, too, and exchanged a glance with Maria, who was trying not to laugh.
“No, I cannot work it out,” Mr Harbottle said. “You will have to tell me the answer.”
“You are just funning, I can tell,” Louis said. “You do know the answer. It is nine shillings.”
“Is it?” Jane said. “Is that correct, Mr Harbottle?”
“It is indeed,” he said, “and a very pretty gown it will make for one of the ladies. Let me see now… green, I think, if it be for Mrs Delanoy, and for Mrs Caldicott… blue, to match her eyes. Or even white, if there be some blue upon it also, and a shawl of gold, with a gold chain about her neck, and sapphires on her fingers. Yes, that is what you should be wearing, Mrs Caldicott.”
He smiled at her so charmingly that she could not possibly take offence. Nevertheless, she was very glad that Jude was not there to hear such flirtatious words.
2: A Cup Of Tea
Nathan crammed his hat onto his head anyhow and strode off down the street. He had never found it more difficult to hold his tongue. Such a gloriously beautiful woman — those eyes, so dazzling in the intensity of their gaze — and yet her cap and the high-necked gown could not hide the bruises. They were faded now, but he could not mistake what he saw. Then there was that tiny hesitation every time she mentio
ned her husband. She was afraid of him, clearly. And there was not a thing Nathan could do about it.
His anger carried him out of East Street and the full length of the High Street before he began to take note of his surroundings again. He had been in Southampton for four days, and so far his enquiries had led him to the wharfs and quaysides, to a few lodging houses within the town and to two or three estates outside it, but he had not allowed himself the time to look around the town. Now he noticed a number of respectable people passing through an arch in the ancient walls. He followed and found himself on a pleasant walk bordering the river, and he was able to cover some distance at his most rapid pace until his rage had abated somewhat.
At length, he flung himself down on a seat, gazing unseeing out at the wide river, and thought about Mrs Caldicott. She was a lady, of that he had no doubt. Her bearing, her well-modulated voice, her manner all proclaimed it. Her husband had been a naval officer, so he must have some aptitude, even if he were not well-born himself. He had won himself a lady of quality, and established her well, for although the house on East Street was not as large as some, it would not be cheap to buy or to rent.
Yet she was poor. She had no tea in the house, even to offer a guest, and that was a desperate degree of poverty for a gently-born lady. Everyone drank tea! Her gown was no longer fashionable, and her slippers were worn. How sad! He had joked about dressing her in blue muslin and a gold shawl, but how he longed to see her in silk, with diamonds at her throat and a little more colour in her cheeks. She was pale and a tad drawn, but then if her husband beat her—
Here he jumped up, as his anger boiled over again. A wife was her husband’s property, naturally, but to injure her in that way was despicable, the work of a coward. Had she no family to remonstrate with the fellow? Had she nowhere to go, but must stay with him and tamely submit? And perhaps one day he would hit her so hard that she would fall and not get up again…
His footsteps drew him back to the High Street, where he passed a grocer with a sign in the window — ‘Finest Souchong tea from only 4/9 lb, Green Hyson 14/- lb’. Tea… how she must miss it! Would she be offended, or feel obliged to refuse for propriety’s sake? Yet it would soothe his own turbulent emotions to offer her something, some tiny thing, that would improve her life a little.
He entered the shop, a bell jangling above the door, and found himself wreathed in the familiar smells of boyhood, when he had accompanied his mama on her quarterly round of the shops to settle bills. The feathers at the poulterer and the bloodstained sawdust at the butcher had fascinated him, but it was the grocer who most drew him, the wooden floor covered with sacks and boxes with exotic labels from all over the world, and the air heavy with spices. This one was not much different, and he walked about, peering at the currants and rice and blocks of sugar, while he waited for the grocer to attend to him.
When it was his turn, he said, “I should like to buy some tea for a friend. Perhaps you know her — Mrs Caldicott of East Street? Do you know what she would most enjoy?”
“Ah, Mrs Caldicott! Indeed, sir, indeed. She used to buy a quantity of the Black Pekoe — that was her favourite when first she came to Southampton. A lady of refined taste, for few of my customers have the discernment to prefer it. Latterly, she buys a Souchong… sometimes. Or perhaps I should say that Mrs Delanoy buys it. She buys most of the provisions, being in charge of the kitchens since the cook left. We seldom see Mrs Caldicott these days, more’s the pity. Yes, Pekoe is what Mrs Caldicott likes best.”
Nathan understood him. The expensive taste for Pekoe had given way to something cheaper, and even that was perhaps too dear towards the end of the quarter. She was a careful manager, it seemed. And the cook had been let go, replaced by the friend with the widow’s cap who lived with her.
“Very well. Let me have a quarter of the best Pekoe, and do you have any gunpowder tea? That is my favourite, so I will also take a quarter of your best for Mrs Caldicott to try.”
Thus provisioned, he continued down the High Street, stopping briefly at a bookseller, before returning, rather pleased with himself, to his hotel.
~~~~~
The next day was busy, for it was Nathan’s final day in Southampton and there were letters to be written and arrangements to be made. Everything must be well-ordered for the journey. He could not travel with the slightest hint of confusion. Not for him the impulse of leaping onto a horse with only a couple of spare shirts in a saddle bag, or rushing to the nearest coaching inn to procure a seat on the next stage that passed by. No, everything must be arranged with meticulous care. His mind was not entirely engaged with these matters, however, for images of clear blue eyes and a lovely face marred by bruises would keep intruding. Late in the morning all was done, and he set off for East Street with his packages.
The same neat maid answered the door, and without hesitation showed him upstairs to what he supposed must be the morning room. It had surprised him not to be received in the drawing room, but now that he was more aware of her circumstances, he guessed that it was the only room with a fire during the day. And perhaps there were few callers to notice.
She was alone with her son, the two of them sitting side by side on a stool before the pianoforte, as the boy slowly picked out the notes of a tune. As Nathan entered, the boy said something and she laughed in response, her whole face suddenly alight with merriment. Nathan’s breath caught in his throat — she was so beautiful! She could walk amongst the incomparables of London society and not be out of place.
The smile faded to surprise as she turned to see him enter the room. Pleased surprise, he thought. She was not angry.
The maid bobbed a curtsy. “Mr Harbottle, madam.”
“Why, what a pleasure to see you again, Mr Harbottle.” She rose gracefully and crossed the room to meet him. So tall and elegant — her posture, her carriage! He could watch her walk about all day. “Do you have more questions for me?”
“No, nothing of the sort. My errand is, I hope, a more agreeable one. As I am to leave Southampton tomorrow, I wished to bring you a small gift in gratitude for your courteous reception of me yesterday. I had no right to expect you even to receive me, yet you were graciousness personified. I thought… I hope you will have no objection, but… some tea for you, and a book for Master Caldicott.”
He waited anxiously. It was an impertinence, he knew, and perhaps if there had been no bruises he would not have thought of it. Or if she had been less beautiful, his heart whispered. No, it was more than her beauty. Her dignified manner drew him powerfully. Even in adversity, she was completely a lady.
She smiled, and he released his breath. “How kind of you! And tea… you remembered that we have none. Oh, Pekoe, my favourite… and a gunpowder, too. I thank you a thousand times! We must have a cup at once. Will you stay and take tea with me, Mr Harbottle?”
“I should be delighted,” he said, with the greatest sincerity. “Here you are, young man. Open your present.”
“Thank you, sir!” the boy said, sitting down at the table to unpick the string and remove the brown paper from his parcel.
Mrs Caldicott rang for the maid and ordered the tea, then looked around for a seat. The circle of chairs had been scattered about, so after a moment’s thought she took a seat on the sofa beside the fire. Nathan did not quite like to sit beside her, for that would look too particular, so he pulled forward a chair from the worktable.
“Are you departing tomorrow to investigate another port, Mr Harbottle?” she said, with a sweet smile of enquiry. Such a lovely smile she had!
“I… no, tomorrow I must return home to Yorkshire to report my findings regarding Felix to my aunt. Not that there is much to report.”
“Presumably you have advertised in the newspapers?”
“Naturally, but with no response. We have even posted a reward for information, but although a number of people claimed the bounty, none had any information of value.”
She wrinkled her forehead prettily, considering th
e matter. “Mr Harbottle, I am sure it has occurred to you that your cousin does not wish to be found, and has changed his name, the better to remain hidden.”
He smiled. “Indeed it has. It is, in point of fact, the only sensible explanation. However, I do not see what can be done about it, if so. If Felix wishes to hide behind another name, why, he could be anywhere, and unless I passed him on the street, I would be quite unable to find him. Even then… I have never met him myself, and he may look nothing at all like the miniature I showed you yesterday. It is frustrating,” he said, with a sigh. “If only my cousin had been possessed of a squint or a hunchback or a wooden leg. My task then would have been immeasurably easier.”
She laughed, a melodious sound, and as Becky arrived just then with the tea things, the subject was allowed to drop. Louis could not be pulled away from his book, a history of England’s great naval battles, so Mrs Caldicott poured for the two of them, and handed him a slice of cake. They sat together in the most companionable way, and Nathan was filled with yearning for such a life — to take tea every day with such a woman, to listen to her musical voice, to watch her cross the room in that elegant way she had… Yet tomorrow he would drive away from this town and would never see her again.
A peremptory knock on the door was immediately followed by its being thrown open to admit a woman he had not seen before. She was small and not especially pretty, particularly so at this moment when her face was creased with rage.
“Nell, have you been at my tea supply? For I won’t have it, I— Oh!” Her hand fluttered to her throat, and her voice suddenly became caressingly high. “I didn’t know you had a gentleman caller.”
Her clothes were well-made and fashionable, but heavily burdened with lace and decorative bows and flourishes so that beside Mrs Caldicott’s simple elegance she looked like an overdressed doll. The accent placed her solidly in the shopkeeper class.
Mrs Caldicott set down her tea cup carefully. “Mrs Lloyd, I could not possibly have used any of your tea, since you keep the key by you at all times.”
The Widow (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 1) Page 2