Hidden Currents

by Rowena Summers

  She hadn’t bothered to undress yet, and she tidied herself quickly and ran down the stairs to her mistress’s bedroom. To her astonishment, Helen was waltzing around the room with a satin cushion held to her chest, and laughing out loud before she flopped onto the bed.

  ‘Is everything all right, miss?’ Carrie said uneasily, wondering if she’d lost her senses.

  ‘Everything’s wonderful, you clever girl! How on earth did you do it?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Carrie hedged.

  Helen sat up again, her eyes sparkling.

  ‘Of course you know. You made him lark about, and roused Papa’s suspicions, didn’t you? I know it was you, so don’t deny it. In fact, rumours of his little philanderings were the only things Papa was doubtful about, but he chose to ignore it because of de Vere’s wealth and connections.’

  ‘I see,’ Carrie said, wondering if all the gentry were so obsessed with money that they’d sell their souls as well as their daughters for it.

  ‘Anyway, apparently the old fool started drinking far too much port after you left them, and began bragging about the way the little servant girls couldn’t keep their hands off him. Papa simply hates such talk, and asked him point-blank if there had ever been any previous trouble on that score. And can you imagine what he said?’

  Carrie suspected she was a little tipsy herself to be putting such vulgar emphasis on her words. But perhaps in the circumstances, it was understandable. She shook her head, but Helen didn’t seem to expect an answer and went on, almost hysterically.

  ‘He said there had once been an incident, when a little peccadillo was involved, but no-one could ever prove anything. Since he and my father were both men of the world, he was sure Papa would understand, and he couldn’t see that it could make any difference to his intentions regarding myself. The arrogance of the man! He was so stiff with drink he hardly knew he was saying the very thing to damn himself in Papa’s eyes! And Papa was incensed enough to relate it all to Mama and me when he’d sent him packing.’

  ‘I take it the wedding’s off then?’ Carrie said mildly.

  Helen looked at her blankly, and then went off into peals of laughter.

  ‘Oh Carrie, you’re rich, you really are! Of course the wedding’s off, and both Mama and I have persuaded my father that it’s not the end of the world if I don’t marry immediately. I’m not exactly on the shelf, am I?’

  Carrie felt her face break into a smile for the first time during that terrible evening, seeing the glowing beauty of the girl.

  ‘I should say not, Miss Helen. And I’m ever so glad, I really am. He was never the one for you, and I’m sure you’ll find the right one some day.’

  She stopped in embarrassment, realising she was playing the maiden aunt, and not too sure how her unpredictable mistress was going to take it. But it seemed that nothing could upset Miss Barclay tonight.

  ‘And you’ll also be glad we’re not going to live in that appallingly isolated country estate he calls home,’ she said gaily. ‘I couldn’t make Papa tell me everything that happened, but I strongly suspect I’ve got you to thank for it all, Carrie, and I shan’t forget it.’

  ‘That’s all right. Just as long as nobody thinks I was trying to lead him on on my own account.’ She shuddered as she spoke, and Helen gave an understanding nod.

  ‘I know you didn’t, and I told Papa so. Anyway, why would you want to flirt with an old roue, when you’ve got such a nice young man of your own?’ she said smilingly.

  ‘I hope you’ll find one just as nice,’ Carrie said at once, assuming that an old roue was a term of disrespect.

  ‘So do I. Now then, while you’re here, you may unfasten these wretched buttons at the back of my gown, since I’ve no idea where my button-hook has gone.’ She stretched luxuriously as she spoke, twisting around on the bed so that Carrie could attend to the long row of buttons.

  ‘Oh, it’s going to be such a lovely day tomorrow, and you may consider your curfew over, Carrie. And next week you may change your time off to the mornings, because you and I are going onto the Downs during the afternoons for the duration of the Christmas Fair,’ she announced next.

  ‘It surely can’t be setting up already,’ Carrie exclaimed. ‘It’s still three weeks until Christmas.’

  ‘I daresay the stallholders want to take our money,’ Helen said, her spirits suddenly beginning to flag after the heady events of the evening. ‘There’s a poster somewhere here that you may take with you if you like. Leave me now, for if I don’t get into bed soon I shall fall asleep right where I am.’

  She waved a slender hand towards her little desk beneath the window as she spoke, and Carrie picked up the rolled-up poster advertising the thrills and excitements of the Christmas Fair. It would be something to read aloud to the other maids if they’d finished their own tasks, and since she didn’t intend gossiping on any other topic, it might help her to unwind from this extraordinary day.

  * * *

  She was glad to find her room still empty. She liked solitude, and she didn’t get a lot of it. She undressed with a shiver in the chilly December evening, relieved beyond measure that she was still employed, that Giles Barclay had been canny enough to get rid of the unsuitable old rogue, and that he had finally seen sense regarding his daughter’s future.

  Carrie gave an enormous sigh of relief on all counts as she pulled her nightgown over her head and slid inside the cold bedcovers. She wrapped them around her as tightly as possible up to her chin, while still managing to keep her arms outside to unroll the advertising poster.

  She glanced down the usual enticements. There would be stalls selling produce and privately made toys of high quality; there would be fowls and geese on offer to the highest bidder to be kept cool in ice-boxes or cold stores for the Christmas period; there would be the usual fair travellers and gypsies, and perhaps the fortuneteller who had told her she was one of fortune’s favoured ones, and that Elsie’s fortunes would change within the year.

  She had also made Elsie shiver when she had turned up the death card … Carrie shuddered. Elsie’s predictions had already come true, even though she had said herself it was highly likely that old Granpa Miller was going to expire at any minute. The wonder was that he had ever managed to survive so long.

  She tried to recall the more pleasant things from the fortune-telling, and her mouth curved into a smile, as she remembered turning up the three red cards ending with the Knave, who could be interpreted as Jack, her true lover …

  Her eyes had blurred a little, remembering that heady summer day, and then they came sharply into focus again as she read the important announcement at the foot of the poster.

  ADDED ATTRACTION.

  We are honoured to welcome BIG LOUIE, the CELEBRATED INTERNATIONAL BAREKNUCKLE FIGHTER, who has proved his SUPERIORITY in all parts of the country and France. BIG LOUIE will demonstrate his SKILLS with his sparring partner, and WILL THEN TAKE ON ALL-COMERS. If anyone can beat THE SHINING STAR OF PRIZE-FIGHTING, there will be a PURSE OF FIVE GUINEAS. All contestants to make themselves known at the ringside.

  Carrie knew then exactly what John Travis had wanted to warn her about that day. He knew she would be going to the fair some time, and he was going to set himself up to fight with this Big Louie. She felt a swift sharp fury from somewhere deep in her gut. He knew how she felt about fighting, but it seemed that her wishes and feelings didn’t come into it.

  From the size of the purse, she guessed that Big Louie and his promoters were pretty confident that no-one was going to get the better of him. John would definitely end up bloodied and hurt, and it would be his own fault. Her eyes smarted at the sheer lunacy of it, and she cursed her vivid imagination that had him practically dead and buried already.

  Minutes later she heard the clatter of footsteps on the stairs, and she hastily blew out her candle and stuffed the poster beneath her pillow, feigning sleep. The last thing she wanted to do now was listen to idle prattle. She was just too angry.


  * * *

  By the following afternoon she had made up her mind. Now that her curfew was over, she would call in and see Ma and check on Elsie, and then walk up Bedminster Hill to see how Uncle Oswald fared. In reality, she was going to tackle John about his intentions.

  ‘It’s no business of yours, girl,’ Ma reminded her, when she explained why she couldn’t stay long. ‘If a man’s of a fighting inclination, you’ll not be the one to change him. Our Wilf’s the same, more’s the pity, but I’d rather that than have a primrose around the house.’

  ‘It’s not the same,’ Carrie said, scowling. ‘Our Wilf fights in self-defence. Fighting for money’s shameful.’

  Elsie hooted, well-established in the house now, Carrie saw, with a stab of jealousy.

  ‘You won’t be saying that if he earns enough to buy you things, will you? Like those beads around your neck — they didn’t grow on a tree, did they?

  Ma looked at her sharply, and Carrie coloured, forgetting she had worn the beads to brighten up her plain working frock a little. Even though they were black, they glittered attractively.

  ‘Miss Helen gave them to me,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, I didn’t take them! I’m not that daft, and anyway, now that I can see you’re better Ma, I’m off up Bedminster Hill. If there’s time, I’ll call in again on my way back.’

  ‘There’s no need. I’m going to take a walk with Elsie this afternoon. The doctor says I should be getting more fresh air,’ Ma said.

  So she had seen the doctor again, and Carrie was overcome with guilt because she’d fully intended seeing him herself, and she’d completely forgotten it. But Elsie seemed to be well in control now.

  ‘Don’t you have to get back to work to pay the rent on your own place?’ she asked her pointedly.

  Elsie shrugged. ‘In a day or two. Your Billy’s gone with Wilf to clear out Granpa’s stuff for me, so your Ma and me are going down to supervise.’

  ‘A fat lot of fresh air you’ll get down by the river,’ Carrie retorted.

  She knew she must be out of sorts to be reacting so badly. She should be glad that Ma and Elsie were there to bolster up one another, and that her menfolk were doing all they could for Elsie in her time of trouble. But it still seemed to shut her out.

  * * *

  By the time she paused for breath as she toiled towards the top of Bedminster Hill, she was telling herself she was a miserable pig to think that way. Elsie would soon get tired of playing the dutiful daughter in somebody else’s house and long for her freedom again, and she shouldn’t begrudge her these comfort days.

  She paid attention to her footing as she reached the top of the steep hill. This morning’s sharp frost still glazed the grass underfoot, and she didn’t want to go head over heels back down again. But once on firm roadway, she walked more energetically towards the Travis house, knowing there wouldn’t be too much time to spare. She had no idea whether or not John would be there, but there had been no sign of his boat at the top end of the river when she had scanned the waterway.

  She paused at the gate of the house, suddenly nervous. It was only the second time she had been here, and the first time she had come unannounced and unchaperoned. In Helen Barclay’s circle, such a thing would be frowned upon, but in the freer world of the lower classes, it hardly raised an eyebrow. It seemed to put them all into a different kind of setting, Carrie thought, and she knew which she preferred after all.

  There was a welcome curl of smoke rising from the chimney of the house, and she pushed open the gate more cheerfully. There was no backing out now. She’d come this far, and once she’d seen how his Uncle Oswald fared, she was going to have it out with John.

  He opened the door himself, his eyes widening as he saw her standing there. She was struck as dumb as he for a second, just as if he was an apparition she had never expected to see. And then she recovered herself.

  ‘I’ve come calling on your uncle,’ she said abruptly. ‘It’s permitted, I suppose?’

  ‘Of course it is,’ John said, opening the door wider to admit her. ‘It’s so good to see you, Carrie. I’ve been thinking about you all day.’

  I bet you have, she thought cynically. Wondering how best to tell me you’re going to fight BIG LOUIE … as the ludicrous name flashed into her mind she gave him a crooked smile. He took both her hands in his and kissed her on the cheek as she went inside the house. She felt herself flush at the sensation of his skin against hers. His slightest touch could send her senses reeling … but she intended keeping a tight hold on them today.

  ‘Has your uncle taken to his bed?’ she said in a husky voice.

  ‘That he has not, my dear,’ she heard a voice call out from the parlour. ‘And if that boy don’t bring you to see me instead of keeping you standing on the doorstep, I shall come and fetch you myself.’

  John gave a short laugh. ‘As you can hear, he’s lost none of his spirit, Carrie. Come and see him, while I make some tea.’

  ‘Are you acting as nursemaid then?’ she said in some surprise.

  ‘Only for today. We have a daily woman to take care of things and clean the house,’ he tactfully avoided saying it was to take care of his uncle, Carrie noted, and wished she hadn’t used the word nursemaid. ‘She’s had to go to a family wedding today, so I’m in charge.’

  ‘Then Mrs Ryan has gone for good?’ she murmured low enough so that Uncle Oswald wouldn’t hear.

  ‘Thankfully, yes,’ John said.

  She followed him into the parlour, where the older man sat in a high-backed chair, a stick at his side. He didn’t look ill, and it was only when he began to speak that Carrie could see how his face was twisted to one side a little, and how some of his words were slurred. She bent to kiss him, hoping it was the correct thing to do in the circumstances.

  ‘I’m so glad to see you’re not bed-bound,’ she said, to cover her embarrassment. ‘I didn’t know what to expect.’

  He chuckled, with only the smallest trickle of spittle at the corner of his mouth.

  ‘I’m not ready for my wooden box yet, girl, but it does my old eyes a, power of good to see you. That boy of mine should have informed you earlier, but he took to worrying about me and my one-time lady-friend — I daresay you know all about that by now, so I don’t need to explain it all, do I?’

  ‘No,’ she said, a little taken aback by his frankness. ‘And I’m sorry.’

  ‘You needn’t be. There’s better men than me that’s been taken in by a pretty woman, my duck. I’m not the first, and I won’t be the last, but there’s no harm done, that’s the main thing.’

  By that, Carrie assumed that John had got everything sorted out with the lawyers, and that the greedy Mrs Ryan didn’t have a chance of getting her hands on any Travis money or property.

  He came back into the parlour with a tray of tea and biscuits then, and Carrie jumped up and took it from him. It was obvious that she couldn’t expect him to leave his uncle alone for the length of time it would take to escort her home today, and she knew she couldn’t start a heated argument in front of the old man. It would be enough to start off another stroke.

  But Uncle Oswald was cannier than she supposed, and when he’d slurped his biscuits into his tea and noisily finished off the rest of it, he gave an artificial yawn.

  ‘I was about to take a little rest when you came, my dear,’ he said glibly. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll take myself off to my bed and leave you two to talk together. I get tired easily these days.’

  ‘Of course I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘But I’ll come and see you again.’

  ‘I hope you will, especially at Christmastime. I miss my dear old Annie most of all then, and it’ll be good to have a female voice about the place again.’

  She watched as John helped him to his feet, and saw how heavily he leaned on his nephew. Through an open door, she glimpsed a narrow bed, and guessed that the old man slept downstairs now, to save him climbing the stairs. She felt a lump in her throat, remembering how
active Oswald Travis had seemed on that first day she had seen him, strong and upright … and she shivered, thinking how quickly a person could be changed by circumstances.

  When John came back to the parlour, he shut the door firmly behind him and came to sit beside her on the settle. Her hands were clenched tightly in her lap, and she saw that he was grim and unsmiling. Perhaps his uncle was worse than she thought, and if so, this seemed hardly the time for griping … but John said it all for her.

  ‘It was kind of you to come and see him, Carrie, but I suspect that wasn’t the only reason for this visit.’

  ‘Oh?’ she said, suddenly perverse. ‘And what other reason could there be, I wonder? Aside from the fact that we are supposed to be walking out, so it might just occur to you that I’d like your company now and then.’

  ‘And you’d also like to hog-tie me to your petticoats and tell me not to attend the Christmas Fair on the Downs, wouldn’t you? And in particular, not to set myself up as a target for Big Louie.’

  ‘Perhaps you could set yourself up as a clairvoyant instead,’ she said sarcastically.

  ‘Are you going to tell me that’s not the reason you came here today?’ he demanded. ‘You’ll have seen the posters by now, and you’re here to warn me off.’

  ‘Just like you tried to warn me that you intended contesting this big oaf, whether I liked it or not!’

  ‘And you don’t like it,’ he stated.

  ‘How perceptive of you.’

  ‘Not at all. It’s written all over you in petty little narrow-minded letters.’

  She gasped. Things weren’t going at all the way she had expected. She didn’t expect him to be a lap-dog, and nor would she want him that way, but a little respect for her feelings wouldn’t come amiss.

  ‘It’s degrading —’ she began.

  ‘It’s necessary,’ he snapped. ‘There’s little money coming in from the boat trippers at this time of year, but I can still act the ferryman, since folk will always be wanting to cross the river from one side to the other. And now there’s a daily woman to be paid for to look after Uncle Oswald. I don’t begrudge a penny of it, but the money’s got to be found, and if I can earn five pounds by my fists, then I shall damn well do it, and no piece of skirt is going to tell me otherwise.’