Hidden Currents

by Rowena Summers

  ‘Isn’t that exactly what you wanted?’ she said mildly.

  ‘I wanted to do it my way,’ he shouted, more incensed by her reaction. ‘It’s my boat and my elbow grease that’s paying for it, and I don’t want some big-time city financier thinking he can control my life in any way.’

  ‘Well, that’s just where you’re wrong, then,’ Carrie’s temper exploded, and she snapped back at him. ‘It’s not your boat. It’s our boat, like you said it was. It’s got my name on it, and if we’re supposed to be sharing everything like you always said we would, then it’s half mine. And I’m grateful to Mr Barclay for being kind enough to pay for finishing off my half of our boat!’

  She half registered the fact that Ma had come and whisked away the bawling Henry and hustled the two young ’uns into the scullery out of the way of these two warring lovers. She stood and glared into John’s furious face, not prepared to give one inch of ground.

  ‘That’s just what I might have expected —’

  ‘From someone of my mentality and class?’ Carrie whipped at him. ‘That’s what you were about to say, isn’t it? Let me tell you that someone of my mentality and class has the common sense to see that this is Mr Giles Barclay’s way of repaying somebody who’d done him a good turn. I know his class better than you do, sir. Good turns are always rewarded, and in my opinion he’d done more than enough by paying for the Chinese vases we wanted for Vi and Oswald. But maybe it weren’t enough for him. Maybe he was persuaded by his lady wife that since you and me were getting married, it ’ould be nice to give us a very special reward for our wedding, see, and that was when it came into Mr Barclay’s mind about the boat. Only I wouldn’t expect you to get inside such workings of the gentry’s mind, seeing as how you never had to work for ’em and kow-tow to ’em the way I did.’

  The ranting would have continued, if she hadn’t had to stop for breath, her eyes flashing with anger and hurt.

  ‘You said you and me were getting married,’ John said stiffly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just now. You said her ladyship might say that since you and me were getting married — and all the rest of it. Does this mean you’ve changed your mind about that?’

  Her jewel-bright eyes brimmed over.

  ‘Don’t be so bloody daft! It’d take more than that to make me change my mind,’ she said huskily. ‘Unless you —?’

  The question seemed to hang in the air for a minute, and then she was snatched hard against him, and she could feel his heart thudding against hers as his arms held her fast.

  ‘That’s the last thing I want, Carrie! God, why do I let myself act like such a fool?’ John groaned against her neck. ‘It seems that a good education isn’t the only teacher, and I could learn a lot from you.’

  ‘And I intend spending the rest of my life teaching you,’ she whispered into his cheek.

  Ma’s discreet cough made them draw apart quickly.

  ‘If you two have stopped acting like waterfront roughnecks, me and the little ’uns are tired of being in the scullery and would like to come into the parlour. You’ll have time enough for squabbling when you’re in your own home.’

  Carrie shook her head. ‘We’ll have more important things to do than waste time squabbling,’ she said, trying to lighten the atmosphere and hoping she wasn’t being too daring.

  ‘Don’t you be too sure of that,’ Ma said dryly. ‘It’s a dreary marriage that don’t have its share of ups and downs in it, and the making-up’s always a compensation.’

  It was about the nearest thing to hinting at married passions that May Stuckey had ever said, and she covered the moment by telling Billy to go and wash his hands for tea, or he’d get none. She asked John if he’d be staying but he shook his head, his gaze fixed on Carrie. And what she saw in his eyes was like a banner for the future.

  ‘We have a visit to make, Mrs Stuckey, and it can’t wait,’ he said.

  ‘Do we?’ Carrie said.

  He looked at her steadily. ‘Didn’t your school of life ever teach you that it’s good manners to thank someone for a gift? Or aren’t you prepared to call on the Barclays by the front door?’

  His voice challenged her, and she tilted her chin high. ‘Of course I am. I’m not their servant any longer.’

  * * *

  All the same, she quaked a little as they went boldly to the front door of the mansion, and heard the bell ringing somewhere inside it. The butler answered, and Carrie saw Jackson’s eyes widen as he recognised her, but John addressed him before he had a chance to speak.

  ‘Would you please inform Mr Barclay that Mr John Travis and Miss Caroline Stuckey respectfully request a few moments of his time?’

  For a minute, Carrie thought Jackson was going to give his usual stiff response that Mr Barclay was not at home to casual callers, but then he gave a short nod and asked them to wait while he went to see if Mr Barclay could receive them.

  ‘You sounded terribly grand, John,’ Carrie said, trying to hide her nervousness.

  ‘And you sound terrified. Keep that chin up.’

  When Jackson came back her hands felt clammy inside her gloves, and she wished she’d thought to change her frock, instead of letting John rush her up here without giving her proper time to think. But it was too late now.

  ‘Mr Barclay will see you in the drawing-room. Follow me, please.’

  They followed dutifully. Carrie thought how many times she had run up and down the stairs at Miss Helen’s bidding, and felt a surge of thankfulness that she would never have to do such a thing again. She may never even see her again.

  They were ushered into the drawing-room, where Mr and Mrs Barclay were waiting to receive them. Carrie gulped, wishing she dared slide her hand into John’s, but it wasn’t done in public, and she couldn’t help the feeling that they were getting a very public scrutiny.

  ‘Well, Mr Travis, I daresay I can guess the purpose of this visit,’ Giles said genially.

  ‘I daresay you can, sir,’ John said evenly. ‘My young lady wishes me to thank you formally for the very generous gesture you have made towards us.’

  Barclay’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly, trained as he was to notice any nuance in a voice or an ambiguity of words.

  ‘And is it not your wish to thank me on your own behalf, my dear sir?’

  Carrie could sense how John bridled a little. Barclay was a forthright man, but she knew John would hardly have expected to be quizzed on his remark.

  ‘I do thank you, sir, most sincerely, even though it was not necessary, and I would have preferred —’

  Carrie nudged him hard enough for it to be noticed. Gertrude Barclay leaned forward and touched her husband’s arm.

  ‘I think I understand Mr Travis’s unspoken words exactly, my dear. Did I not suggest that you approached Carrie on this matter first of all? A man has his pride, and I would guess that this young man’s initial reaction was exactly what yours might have been in similar circumstances.’

  But she smiled encouragingly at the two of them, and Giles spoke more sharply.

  ‘Is that so, Mr Travis? Would you have preferred to struggle on and make your way by your own efforts?’

  ‘I would indeed, sir,’ John said promptly, at which Carrie let out her breath impatiently. For two pins, their benefactor might just demand his money back — or claim the Caroline as his own, and all because of John’s stupid male pride … as she opened her mouth to protest and eat humble pie, she heard Giles chuckle again, the way he’d done in his office when she had let rip so appallingly.

  ‘You’re a man after my own heart, boy, but there are times in this life when it’s better to receive than to give, and to be generous enough to allow others to do the giving. Your girl will know all about that, I’m sure. Now then, we’ll hear no more about debts and thanks, and I trust you’ll both take a glass of wine with my wife and myself to celebrate this forthcoming wedding of yours?’

  ‘Please sit down, both of you,’ Gertrude said, at once the
gracious hostess as her husband moved towards the decanter on the sideboard. ‘And how thrilled you must be, Carrie, to have a boat named after you.’

  ‘I am, ma’am,’ she murmured, awkward and embarrassed at having to sit in this splendidly appointed room and try to make small talk with her erstwhile employers. And then she noticed that Mrs Barclay was wearing the jade ear-rings, and she couldn’t help commenting on the fact.

  ‘They were a special anniversary gift from my husband,’ the lady confided. ‘So apart from their considerable value, they had enormous sentimental value for me too. I would have given the earth to get them back, so I can’t thank you enough for your sharp eye-sight, my dear.’

  ‘Well, that’s all right then,’ Carrie said, relieved. If the lady would have given the earth to get them back, John surely couldn’t imagine that his remaining boat debts had been too great a gesture to pay?

  ‘I’m glad you came to call, Carrie,’ the lady went on, as they were handed their crystal glasses of wine. ‘I also wanted to give you something personal as a small wedding gift. One of the maids would have delivered it, but now you may have it in person.’

  ‘It’s not necessary, ma’am,’ she stammered. ‘You’ve both done enough already —’

  Giles admonished her lightly, as his wife rang the bell for a maid.

  ‘Remember, girl. It’s now my wife’s turn to give, and yours to be gracious enough to accept.’

  Carrie blushed, and almost laughed out loud at the startled face of the maid who arrived to do Mrs Barclay’s bidding, guessing at the gossip below stairs that Carrie Stuckey and her young man were sitting like real toffs in the Barclay drawing-room drinking wine.

  Minutes later, the maid had brought one of the lady’s jewel-cases as requested, and Gertrude had removed a small diamond pin brooch from inside.

  ‘This is for you, Carrie,’ she said. ‘I hope you’ll wear it on your wedding-day, and that you’ll both have many years of happiness in your future life.’

  Carrie could hardly speak as she took the gem. She had no jewellery to speak of, save a few trinkets that Helen had given to her, and she had never thought to own anything as fine as this. She stammered her thanks, and had them waved away.

  ‘Just be happy, my dear. That’s the best thing that anyone can wish for you. Now tell me, is everything planned for your wedding-day? Do you have a frosted cake?’

  ‘Oh yes. Ma — my mother’s made it, and we’re to have a small party at home before we leave for John’s house.’

  ‘I shall see that Cook sends you down a ham and some cheeses the day before,’ Gertrude declared. ‘And now, I don’t wish to hurry you both, but we do have guests coming this evening.’

  Carrie drained her drink, feeling her head spin. But it was more than the wine that was making her feel so delirious. It was the joy of knowing that everything in her world was becoming so gloriously right. The man she adored was at her side, and in a very few days he would become her husband, for richer, for poorer, for better or worse … but it could surely only be for the better, she thought fervently, sending up a little prayer of hope.

  * * *

  The morning of Friday the twenty-eighth of June was calm and sunny. The young ’uns had been got ready, and threatened not to soil a scrap of their fine wedding clobber. All the food was laid out on the tables for later, and Billy had been forbidden to touch a single morsel until then. The menfolk were togged up in their Sunday best, with Sam almost busting out of his collar, where he’d put on weight since leading a more affluent life of late. And Ma went upstairs with Carrie to help her into the creamy folds of the wedding-gown.

  ‘You look a fair picture, my lamb,’ Ma said with a small break in her voice as she looked at the vision in front of her. It wasn’t in her nature to gush and praise unnecessarily, and in any case she was nearly tongue-tied at seeing her girl look so beautiful. Just like an angel … and she quickly hoped she wasn’t blaspheming with the thought.

  Carrie looked at her reflection in the square of mirror above Pa’s sturdily made dressing-table, wondering if the person looking back at her could really be her. It was someone far removed from reality, a princess …

  ‘I do look different, don’t I, Ma?’ she said huskily. ‘Do you think John will recognise me, looking so fine?’

  ‘I think perhaps he always sees you this way,’ Ma said. ‘A man does, when he looks at his bride, Carrie.’

  As they looked at one another for a moment, they seemed to be no longer mother and daughter, but two women who were loved and cherished. The one, having known the special kind of married love for many years, and the other, on the brink of that love …

  Carrie turned and hugged her mother hard for a moment.

  ‘I feel I should say summat to you, Ma, but I can’t seem to find the words.’

  ‘We don’t need words, my lamb. All that’s needed is what’s here in our hearts, and seeing you so happy and fulfilled today is all the thanks a mother needs.’

  Carrie nodded, and then the air was filled with the heady scent of roses, as she picked up the small coronet of blooms for her head, and the posy of summer blossoms she was to carry into church. At the neck of her gown was the diamond pin Mrs Barclay had given her. But not even diamonds could outshine the sparkle that was in Carrie’s eyes on that special day.

  A short while later, the Stuckey family took their places in the church opposite John’s aunt and uncle, and a few acquaintances from the boatyards and ferries. Nora Woolley and her parents sat on the bride’s side of the church, while Wilf and John stood stiffly to attention at the front, awaiting the arrival of the bride and her father. May prayed they wouldn’t delay in starting up the aisle and start Billy fidgeting, and that young Henry wouldn’t start making a fuss at having to be held still for too long.

  She heard the small buzz of approval from the back of the church from the various onlookers who always flocked to church to see a wedding, and she turned her head slightly. Sam looked so fine, she thought, and so proud to have his girl on his arm as she went to be married.

  But Carrie saw only John, turning to watch her walk slowly up the aisle, with such a look of love in his eyes that it took her breath away. She went towards him, as if this was still something in a beautiful dream, hardly seeming to move her feet at all, until she reached his side at last. She had to force herself to pay attention as Mr Pritchard said the words that would bind her to John for ever.

  ‘Do you, Caroline, take John to be your lawful wedded husband …?’ the words droned on.

  ‘I do,’ she whispered, and she felt the coolness of the plain gold band slide onto her finger. John held it there for a moment, and she felt the warmth of him and the strength of him flow into her. Her eyes stung, loving him so much, and blessing the good fortune that had sent him into her life.

  In no time at all they were walking back towards the house again in a fine procession. A carriage would take the newly married couple back up Bedminster Hill later, but for now, they were making this traditional walk from the church to the reception, with all their supporters walking behind, and many others falling into step for the sheer joy of the occasion. They were cheered and applauded all the way by folk who came out of their cottages especially to see all the finery of a bride and groom.

  ‘I wish I could hold onto this day for ever,’ Carrie told John, when they had nodded and laughed and thanked a score of strangers who wished them well.

  She hugged his arm, and felt him squeeze it to his side.

  ‘We’ll always hold onto it, my darling,’ he said. ‘Every day will be as wonderful as this one, because from now on we’ll always be together to share them.’

  If Carrie was sensible enough to know it couldn’t always be so, none of that mattered, because today was the best day of her life, and no thought of a lesser tomorrow was going to be allowed inside her head.

  And when all the pomp and excitement were over, and Billy had been assured that he could come to visit them on Bedminster
Hill whenever he liked, they set off in the hired carriage that was to take them to their new home. By then, Vi and Oswald had already gone on their way to Clevedon, and the house was empty, awaiting them.

  They walked arm in arm up the garden path, fragrant with summer roses, and John opened the front door and held out his arms to her.

  ‘A bride should always be carried over the threshold to ensure that good luck always follow her,’ he said softly.

  He swept her up in his arms, and the sensual silkiness of her gown rustled over and around them both. His face was close to hers, and she murmured against his cheek.

  ‘I already have all the luck I need right here,’ she said in a soft sighing whisper.

  He kissed her with unrestrained and mounting passion, and she responded with a fervour and longing that delighted him. And he was still kissing her as he kicked the door behind them, and shut out the rest of the world.

  THE END

  A Note on the Author

  Rowena Summers is a pseudonym of Jean Saunders (1932–2011). She was born in London, but lived in the West Country for almost all of her life. She was married to Geoff Saunders, her childhood sweetheart, with whom she had three children.

  After the publication of her first novel, Jean began a career as a magazine writer and published around 600 short stories. She started to publish gothic romance novels under her married and maiden name in the 1970s. In the 1980s, she wrote historical romances under what would become her two most popular pseudonyms, Rowena Summers and Sally James. In 2004, she began to use the penname Rachel Moore.

  In 1991 Saunders’s novel, The Bannister Girls, was shortlisted for the Romantic Novel of the Year award.

  Discover books by Jean Saunders published by Bloomsbury Reader at

  www.bloomsbury.com/JeanSaunders

  A Different Kind of Love

  The Bannister Girls

  With This Ring

  Writing as Rowena Summers

  Hidden Currents