The Sea Between

by Thomas, Carol

  ‘But it’s all right for a brother to pass judgment on his sister.’

  ‘I’m not passing judgment on you! I’m enquiring if you apologized to William. Did you?’

  She folded her arms defiantly. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Well, do so, and soon. And at a suitable moment you’d better go and see Eliza, to explain—if you can—why you kept the brooch. Eliza is a regular visitor to this house. Ann looks forward to her company and Eliza values Ann’s friendship. So you’d better find a way to set matters to rights and see to it that Eliza feels comfortable about coming to the house still. I don’t suppose I need to remind you that we’re related to her by marriage now, which is another compelling reason for sorting out this mess. The last thing we want is a family feud where one half of the family never speaks to the other half.’

  Letting her hands drop abruptly to her sides, Charlotte strode over to the window, turning her back on George so that she didn’t have to weather his black scowl any longer. ‘All right. I’ll go and see her,’ she muttered.

  George gave a mollified grunt. ‘When?’

  ‘When Richard has gone.’

  ‘When does he leave port?’

  ‘Next Monday, I think.’

  ‘I suggest you use the intervening time to sort out what you’re going to say to Eliza,’ George said.

  Turning her head, Charlotte looked through the window, over the rooftops towards Voelas Road, wondering how Richard was faring with his explanations.

  ‘Eliza, how am I to explain if you won’t listen?’ Richard appealed in frustration. She wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t let him touch her; all she would do was weep, shout, and smash the china. He ducked to the side as a porcelain horse whistled past his left ear and exploded with a splintering crash against the parlour wall. The fragments landed with a clatter on the carpet, to join a shattered Chinese vase, one of a pair that he’d paid a considerable amount of money for.

  At the end of his patience, he strode across the room and grasped Eliza’s wrist as she reached for another ornament. ‘That’s enough, Eliza,’ he warned softly.

  She wrenched her hand free, glaring at him through tear-filled eyes. ‘You’ve made me a laughing stock! Everyone knew about you and Charlotte—George, Ann, your mother, John, Sarah, Edwin—everyone knew except me! And to settle me in the same town as her! How could you be so insensitive, so cruel, Richard?’

  ‘I didn’t know Charlotte was living in Lyttelton when I settled you here, Eliza. I’ve told you that twice already, if you would but listen.’

  Pushing past him, she ran to the bedroom.

  Letting out a deep sigh, Richard followed her. He stood in the doorway for a moment, then went in. Eliza had flung herself on the bed and was sobbing. He sat down beside her and reached out to touch her hand. ‘Eliza, I’m sorry,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Don’t touch me!’ Jerking away from him as if a bee had stung her, she turned her head away to face the wall. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? You should have told me!’

  ‘I’ve explained why. Because I thought you’d find it difficult if you learned I’d asked Charlotte to marry me before I asked you.’

  She lifted her head from the quilt and turned to face him, her cheeks soaked with tears. ‘When did you propose to her?’

  ‘I can’t remember exactly.’

  ‘Nonsense! You don’t forget things like that!’ She pushed herself up with her left arm, sniffing loudly. ‘When did you propose to her? I want to know.’

  He felt sorely tempted to lie. But if Eliza discussed things with Ann, as she was quite likely to do, and was told a different story from the one he’d given her, it would only make matters worse. ‘Four months before I married you,’ he said.

  She stared at him, then buried her head in the quilt and began sobbing again.

  Richard breathed out another deep sigh, wondering whether it might be best to leave her to weep, and talk to her in the morning when she might be more inclined to listen. He didn’t like to think of her weeping all night on his account, though. Leaning over her, he stroked her cheek with his fingertips.

  ‘Don’t touch me, I said!’ Eliza lashed out at him blindly and caught him squarely on the nose, making his eyes water.

  The mattress bucked violently as he stood up, tossing Eliza up and down like a piece of driftwood on a choppy swell. He watched her until the bed was still again, listening to her continuing sobs, then went back to the parlour and stood in the middle of the room for a few minutes, staring at the fragments of porcelain, before going over to the sideboard and pouring himself a glass of rum. He was just tilting his head back to quaff it down when he heard the creak of floorboards, followed by a loud slam—the bedroom door. Picking up the bottle of rum, he walked over to the armchair, resigning himself to spending the night there.

  He woke with a start, jolted from sleep by the sound of the back door closing. He glanced at the mantel clock as the floorboards in the kitchen creaked. Seven o’clock. Molly Smithers, the woman who came to cook and clean, wasn’t the best housemaid in the world, but you could set a watch by her. Pushing himself stiffly to his feet, he set about clearing up the broken china. Doing his best not to let the pieces chink against each other, he hid them in the bottom drawer of the sideboard. He didn’t want it broadcast all round Lyttelton that his wife had been smashing things.

  Satisfied that the room was shipshape again, he went down the hall to the bedroom. In the kitchen he could hear Molly rattling around in the grate with the poker, cleaning out the ash. The bedroom door gave a squeal as he pushed it open, rousing Eliza. She lifted her head from the pillow, looked at him coldly, and disappeared beneath the blankets.

  Suppressing a sigh, Richard closed the door then walked over to the wash stand and poured some water into the bowl. He’d been hoping that Eliza would be in a more reasonable frame of mind this morning, but she didn’t appear to be. Leaning over the bowl, he splashed some water on to his face, then reached for the soap and his shaving brush and worked up a lather on his cheeks and chin. He was damned if he knew what else to say to Eliza. There was no denying it had been a humiliating experience for her, and he could well understand why she was feeling angry, but surely she could see why he hadn’t told her about Charlotte. Setting down the soapy brush, he picked up his razor, dipped it in the water, then peered at himself in the oval mirror. Skewing his mouth to the left, he scraped his razor down his right cheek. He couldn’t in all honesty blame Charlotte for what had happened, but at the same time he couldn’t help thinking it would have been sensible of her to collect the damned brooch when he and Eliza weren’t there. He pulled his mouth to the right, thinking in passing how ridiculous he looked when he was shaving, and carefully scraped the bristles off his left cheek. A ride perhaps, he thought, his mind back on Eliza again. Eliza enjoyed going out for a ride—he could hire a spring cart.

  The ride didn’t eventuate. Not only did Eliza refuse to go out, she refused to even leave the bedroom, saying she had a headache. Feeling irritable and frustrated, Richard spent the morning fidgeting around the house, then, losing patience, he walked down to the wharf in the afternoon and went aboard the Nina. When he returned home, in time for dinner, Eliza was sitting in the parlour, doing her needlework. Of Molly there was no sign. No sign of any dinner either.

  ‘Has Molly gone home?’ he asked, as he walked into the room.

  ‘She went hours ago,’ Eliza replied without looking up.

  ‘I presume she prepared some dinner before she left?’ He had a feeling he knew what the answer would be.

  Eyes still lowered, Eliza reached for her scissors. ‘No. I’m not hungry and you’d gone out. I didn’t know where you’d gone or when to expect you back.’

  ‘I went to the Nina, and since I didn’t say that I wouldn’t be back for dinner I don’t know why you would think otherwise.’

  Eliza snipped at a blue thread, then stuck her needle in the pin cushion. Reaching for her basket of silk embroidery threads, she pulled out a
pale lavender skein, making him wait for her answer. ‘There’s some cold lamb in the pantry, left over from yesterday.’

  ‘Oh, so I’m to see to myself, am I? You sent Molly home early deliberately, didn’t you?’ He was trying not to lose his temper, but Eliza was making it damned difficult, indulging in petty behaviour like this. ‘What is this? A forced penance for my sins, Eliza?’

  ‘Have you sinned?’ she asked.

  ‘You seem to think I have.’

  Pointedly avoiding looking at him, she drew out a length of lavender embroidery thread and snipped it off. ‘I don’t know if you have or you haven’t. Only you know that.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘You were with Charlotte for two days and two nights during the snow storm.’

  Richard stared at Eliza’s bowed head speechlessly, then finally managed to splutter, ‘Are you accusing me of being unfaithful to you?’

  ‘I accuse you of nothing.’

  ‘But you suspect me!’ Richard could feel his blood rising. His voice most certainly was.

  Eliza looked up, her lips trembling violently as the thin shell of her composure started to crack. ‘You married me in haste, after Charlotte had refused you. I don’t know why she turned down your offer of marriage and I don’t want to know. But I do know she still has the brooch you gave her, as a keepsake. Can you blame me for wondering what happened between the two of you when you were alone together for all that time?’

  Richard didn’t know whether to shout or to laugh. Shout because his fidelity was being called into question, or laugh because the idea of Charlotte being willing to commit adultery with him was simply too ludicrous for words.

  Feeling more inclined to shout than to laugh, he roared, ‘I have never been unfaithful to you! And I’m insulted by your suggestion that I might have been!’

  Red-faced with anger he strode from the room, slamming the door behind him, and went to the kitchen to find himself some food.

  Chapter 16

  Richard

  I am returning the brooch that you gave to me. I ought to have returned it months ago, and I apologize for not doing so. By way of small excuse, I will say that I could not return it to you when you were not here.

  I am sorry also for what happened in the jeweller’s shop. Please believe me, I did not foresee such an outcome or I would not have gone there. I intend to visit Eliza when you have returned to sea, to apologize for my part in unintentionally causing her distress.

  I wish you a safe journey.

  Charlotte

  Ascant handful of lines, but it had taken Charlotte well over an hour to pen them. It was her seventh attempt, in fact. The six rejected versions, reduced to crumpled little balls, were strewn about George’s writing desk. Folding the letter, she slipped it in the envelope and addressed it. She got Rose to deliver it. Delivering it herself was out of the question. If Eliza saw her with Richard, or if someone reported seeing them together, it would only make matters worse and they were bad enough as it was.

  The following Monday, the Nina unfurled her sails and left port. The next day, Charlotte called on Eliza.

  ‘Shall I prepare a tray of tea, Mrs Steele?’ Molly asked as she showed Charlotte into the parlour, a tray of tea being the normal procedure when a visitor arrived.

  ‘Not just yet, thank you, Molly,’ Eliza replied in cool tones. Molly nodded and went back to the kitchen, leaving the parlour door ajar, swinging on its hinge like a flapping ear. Charlotte closed it, then turned to face Eliza.

  ‘May I sit down?’ she asked awkwardly. Receiving no answer, just a cold silent stare, she drew in a low breath and walked slowly across the room, past Eliza’s latest acquisition—a beautiful mahogany sideboard with an elegant bowed front. Eliza would have nothing but the best in her home. She had expensive taste, as the rest of the furniture and furnishings attested. Charlotte walked as far as the oval table in the centre of the room, then stopped. Eliza was sitting in the window seat. She had been writing a letter—an ink bottle with a pen protruding from it and a blotter lay on the wide wooden arm of the seat, and a sheet of paper lay on the squab beside her, face-down.

  ‘Eliza, I’m sure you know why I’m here,’ Charlotte began quietly. ‘I want to apologize for the distress you suffered in Christchurch last week.’

  She was genuinely sorry for what had happened, made no excuses, admitted she ought to have returned the brooch and explained why she hadn’t. She finished by saying she had now returned the brooch, via Rose.

  The apology and explanation proffered, she waited for Eliza’s response, anticipating a lengthy rebuke. None came, just a long, accusing silence, followed by a question. ‘Where do things stand between you and William? Do you intend to marry him?’

  She hesitated then nodded. ‘If he asks me—yes.’ It wasn’t the truth—she was still undecided about what she would say if William proposed to her—but it was the answer that Eliza wanted to hear, the answer that would set her mind at rest. And that was what she had come here to do: convince Eliza that she was no threat to her marriage, pour oil on troubled family waters; in short, do whatever was necessary to repair the damage that had been done. If that meant a white lie or two, so be it.

  It was the right answer. The hostile expression on Eliza’s face softened noticeably. She had more questions yet, though. ‘I should like to know why you refused Richard’s offer of marriage.’

  This time she could answer truthfully, and had no reason not to. ‘Because of his work, his being away so often. I wasn’t prepared to spend months on my own while he was at sea.’

  ‘As I do,’ Eliza interjected.

  ‘It was your choice,’ Charlotte replied evenly.

  ‘And one I’ve no regrets about.’

  There was another long silence, then Eliza reached for the hand bell and tinkled it. A few moments later, Molly appeared. ‘We’ll have that tray of tea now please, Molly,’ she said.

  Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief. It would be a while before things were entirely back to normal, but eventually they would settle back into place. This, in fact, had been the outcome she’d expected. Much as Eliza might feel like being difficult, it was in her interests not to be. In a few weeks’ time the weather would be turning colder, and during the long, dark, wintry evenings Eliza would be glad of all the company she could get. She could expect little from Richard. If she was awkward, George and Ann might be less inclined to invite her to dinner. Better therefore to be sensible, accept the apology, and let the matter drop. It would be a long, bleak winter if she didn’t.

  Winter set in early. March brought the first frosts. April brought cold winds. May brought fog and dominoes.

  ‘I shall have to pass again.’ William shook his head, frowning, as he glanced down at the three remaining pieces in his hand.

  ‘Oh dear, you still can’t play, William?’ Eliza smiled at him as she leaned forward to place her domino on the table. ‘You passed on your last turn, didn’t you?’

  ‘I did indeed,’ he returned.

  ‘How many dominoes have you in your hand, Eliza? Are you down to your last one now?’ George asked.

  ‘I’m not saying. You should have kept a tally, George.’ Eliza leaned back against the sofa, crossing her hands secretively to conceal what lay beneath them.

  The clock on the mantelpiece ticked softly as George considered his move. Obviously, he had a choice of play. Eventually he set down a three-five, to leave a three at each end.

  ‘Pass,’ Charlotte said, not even bothering to look at her dominoes. She knew she had no threes. ‘Can you play now, William?’

  William nodded. ‘I can.’ He leaned forward to set down a double three. ‘I thought I was going to be left with that in my hand. Not that it will matter greatly. I think Eliza will be out this time.’

  ‘Yes, I am.’ Eliza grinned triumphantly as she placed her last domino.

  ‘Oh, congratulations, Eliza,’ Ann said warmly, looking up from her needlework. ‘That’s the
third game you’ve won this evening.’

  ‘Yes, congratulations, Eliza,’ Charlotte said, stifling a yawn. ‘You played well.’

  ‘Tired, Charlotte?’ William reached out to squeeze her hand affectionately.

  She smiled and nodded. ‘I was late to bed last night.’

  ‘Couldn’t get her books to tally,’ George scoffed. ‘She was up until after midnight trying to sort them out.’

  ‘Oh? What was the problem?’ William enquired.

  ‘A double entry. I found it eventually.’ She leaned forward to lay her unplayed dominoes on the table.

  ‘You should let William look after your books. I’m sure he’d be only too glad to oblige,’ Eliza said.

  ‘I’ve offered several times,’ William said, smiling warmly at Charlotte.

  ‘I like to do them myself,’ Charlotte returned.

  ‘Stubborn as a rock. Always has been.’ George shook his head.

  Ignoring the comment, Charlotte asked, ‘Do you want another game or shall I put the dominoes back in the box?’

  William pulled out his fob watch, then took it upon himself to answer for all of them. ‘Put them away. It’s nearly ten o’clock.’

  ‘Is it really that time?’ Eliza looked in disbelief at the mantel clock. ‘I didn’t realize it was so late.’

  ‘Nor I. It’s time I took you home,’ George said, pushing himself reluctantly to his feet. ‘I’ll fetch your coat.’

  ‘I’ll walk Eliza home tonight,’ William offered.

  ‘No, no, no.’ George flapped his hand dismissively. ‘You’ve seen Eliza home the last three times. I’ll see her home tonight.’ He stooped to pick up a domino that he’d knocked off the table, handed it to Charlotte who was putting them away, then went in search of Eliza’s coat.

  ‘Shall I see you tomorrow, Eliza?’ Ann asked, putting aside her needlework.

  Eliza nodded. ‘If it’s fine, we could walk down to the shops, if you feel up to it.’

  ‘I’ll see how I feel,’ Ann said.