by Anna Jacobs
But she felt sad as she walked away. It was difficult enough to love a man of means, but the heir to an estate – why, Ronan was even further beyond her reach now than he had been before!
It was a good thing she was being sensible about this, not letting herself get carried away. These feelings would pass. Surely they would?
By dint of shuffling the passengers around and asking Xanthe to share a cabin with the daughter of an English family, the agent managed to find Ronan a berth on the outgoing ship.
He bade a rather emotional farewell to Bram, sorry to be losing his childhood friend. He clapped him on the shoulder and wished him well.
Bram looked at him very seriously. ‘I want to thank you for giving me a chance to make something of my life.’
‘Me? I’ve done very little.’
‘You brought me here, you gave me your mother’s things – which have given me some money to make a start with. That’s not “very little”, it’s a lot.’
‘Well, I shall hope to hear that you’ve grown rich then.’
Bram gave him a strange look. ‘I’ll do that or die trying.’ Then, for all his threats never to go on board a ship again, he sailed away with his new friend, heading for other exotic-sounding ports to investigate trading possibilities.
And Ronan was left to continue his journey with Xanthe.
Within five minutes of making the acquaintance of her new cabin mate, Xanthe realised why she and her family had agreed so quickly to the changes: Ronan was now a very eligible gentleman and Marianne was on her way back to England to find a husband. Marianne was as fair as she was dark, and very pretty, dressed in exquisite clothes that Xanthe envied.
As was soon evident, the young woman considered Xanthe long past the age of snaring a husband, even before she found out that her cabin mate had once been a mill girl.
Ronan, still recovering, spent most of his time sitting on deck. But he soon found himself besieged by Marianne’s parents, who were determined to take charge of his convalescence, since it was inconceivable that a single woman like Xanthe should spend time with him on her own.
In the end Xanthe gave up trying to sit with or chat to him on her own, because if she did, Marianne and her mother were sure to join them.
One night, however, it was so hot that Xanthe couldn’t bear the stuffy cabin for a minute longer and in spite of Marianne’s shocked protests, she got dressed again in one of the saris Anusha had helped her choose at the market and went up on deck. She jumped in shock as Ronan’s voice came out of the shadows.
‘How did you escape them?’
‘I waited till Marianne was in bed, then got dressed again and came out.’
‘What’s the betting she’ll get dressed too, fetch her mother and come searching for you, all in the interests of propriety?’
‘At least I’ll have a few minutes on my own first.’
‘I don’t suppose . . . no, it wouldn’t be fair to you.’
‘What?’
‘I don’t suppose you’d like to come and sit in a little refuge I’ve found? I’m sure they won’t find us there. It’s outside our area of the deck, a place the crew usually use, but they’re asleep by this time, the steward says. He’s the one who showed it to me the other night when I said I just wanted some peace and quiet without people pestering me.’
‘Let’s go there quickly.’
He took her hand and led her through the moonlight into a shadowy part of the deck, where a narrow gap let them into a small area with a couple of benches along the sides. ‘Shh! I heard something.’
They stood very still and sure enough, Mrs Garston’s strident tones carried through the night. ‘Where can she be?’
‘I can’t think, Mama! She said she was just going up on deck for a few moments.’
‘She’ll be meeting a man, I’m sure she will. A female who’s worked in a mill won’t have moral scruples like our sort of people do. Their sensibilities are blunted by the free life they lead. I’d never have let you share a cabin with her if I’d known her background.’
‘She seems decent enough, Mama. She doesn’t flirt with anyone and spends most of her time reading. I’m sure she’s read everything in the ship’s library. It’s a wonder she’s not cross-eyed.’
‘Addling her brain. I’d not allow you to do that. Gentlemen don’t want wives who’re cleverer than they are.’
The voices faded away and Xanthe let out her breath in relief.
‘I’m sorry you heard such remarks about yourself,’ Ronan said.
‘It doesn’t matter. I’m quite aware of how they feel about me.’
‘Are you aware of how I feel about you? I—’
‘Ronan, please don’t!’
‘Don’t what?’
‘Say anything personal. It doesn’t matter what you feel about me. We’re so far apart there can be no – permanent friendship between us.’
‘It’s not friendship I want. Xanthe, won’t you—’
But she’d gone, fleeing from him with an inarticulate murmur of distress. And before he could catch her up, she was safe inside her cabin again. He went back on the deck, knowing he could at least safeguard her reputation.
When he met Marianne and her mother strolling along, he affected pleasure at seeing them and agreed to take a turn round the deck with them.
‘You haven’t seen Xanthe, have you?’ Marianne asked.
‘Should I have?’
‘She came out for a walk.’
‘I’m on my own, as you can see. And since I’ve enjoyed a little fresh air now, I think I’ll go back to my cabin and try to sleep. Perhaps I’ll have more luck this time.’
For the rest of the two-week journey to Suez, Xanthe took good care to keep away from him. He knew it was sensible of her. And he knew it’d be wrong of him to pursue her now that he was the heir to Ardgullan.
But he didn’t want to be sensible. He wanted . . . oh, he wanted her. Just Xanthe, with her lively comments on life and her beautiful expressive face.
16
Mrs Largan didn’t leave her bed again. She faded away as quietly as she’d lived, trying not to be a trouble, smiling when her son sat with her, thanking Maia for looking after her so carefully.
Conn was sitting with his mother when she died, holding her hand. When he heard a sigh, then felt the hand in his go slack, he looked at her face and knew what had happened. Still, he felt her throat for a pulse, not wanting to accept that she’d died. When he couldn’t find one he sat staring at her, feeling utterly lost. He couldn’t imagine life without her.
‘Oh, no!’
Maia’s soft voice made him turn and say, ‘Yes, she’s gone.’ He raised his mother’s hand to his lips then laid it across her chest, kissing her cheek as well before standing up.
Maia came to kiss his mother’s other cheek, tears streaming down her face. Shaking her head slowly and sadly, she fumbled for a handkerchief, couldn’t find one and mopped her eyes with her apron instead.
He tried to think what to do and couldn’t.
She waited, her head on one side, as if waiting for him to speak. When he didn’t, she said quietly, ‘Shall I lay her out for you? I’d like to perform that last service for her.’
‘Would you?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Do you need help lifting her, Maia?
‘No. I’m sure Nancy will help me.’
‘We’ll need a coffin.’ He couldn’t even think how to get one, felt so numb and stupid.
‘Mr Carling makes coffins. You could ride across and ask his help.’
His words were bitter. ‘Would he make one for a person like me?’
‘Of course he would.’
While he was gone, Maia tended to Mrs Largan, with Nancy in attendance.
‘Poor lady, she was only skin and bone,’ Nancy said. ‘She must have been pretty when she was young.’
And a little later, ‘How will the master manage without her? He was devoted to her. It was lovely to s
ee them together.’
‘He’ll manage well enough once he’s over the shock. We all do when we lose someone, don’t we? Life goes on, whether we want it to or not.’
Nancy’s face twisted in distress and she nodded.
There was no way of getting a clergyman to officiate at the burial, but Conn made an area of the garden into a burial ground and said he’d plant it with his mother’s favourite flowers.
Cassandra and Reece came across from Lynch’s Farm for the informal ceremony, bringing Livia with them.
To everyone’s consternation, Kathleen insisted on coming too, wearing black, talking too loudly, mouthing trite condolences Conn didn’t want from her and spoiling the burial itself by asking in a loud voice, ‘Why are those servants here?’
‘Because I asked them to attend,’ he replied in a tight voice.
‘You shouldn’t have done that. It’s not seemly. Tell them to go back to the house and get on with their work.’
‘The servants loved her too. She’d want all the people who loved her to be present as she’s laid to rest.’
When Kathleen opened her mouth to protest, he snapped, ‘Be quiet or go away!’
He looked so fierce even she closed her mouth, though she glared at the servants throughout the informal ceremony.
Afterwards, one by one, they came to shake his hand and offer their condolences. Kathleen tried to stand next to him, but Reece grasped her forearm and pulled her back, shaking her when she protested and telling her in a savage undertone to be quiet.
The furious look Conn gave her made her blink and for once she understood that she’d really upset him.
Cassandra went into the kitchen to help Maia, seizing the opportunity to ask, ‘Do you want to come back and live with us now? You know you’ll always be welcome. We can easily build on another bedroom.’
Maia linked her arm in her sister’s for a moment or two and leaned her head against her sister’s shoulder. ‘Thank you. If I need somewhere to go, be sure I’ll come to you. But for the moment, Conn needs me.’
‘It’s not right for you to stay here, love.’
‘Isn’t it? I think it is.’
‘Maia, he’s not for you.’
‘I know that. But he needs me desperately. If that’s all I can do for him, be here in his time of distress, then I’ll do it gladly.’
Maia was glad when the visitors left, especially glad to be free of Kathleen’s scowls and pointed remarks. She watched Conn say farewell to them, then go and shut himself in the library, his main place of refuge from the world.
After helping Nancy clear up, she went into her bedroom and allowed herself to weep for the mistress she’d loved – and also for herself. She had so much love for Conn and didn’t dare show it openly but he’d said he wanted to marry her one day, if he could, so surely she could dream a little. She longed for a home and family, children to love and raise. His home, his children.
She knew her sister had similar feelings for Ronan. What a pair she and Xanthe were, ignoring the decent young men who’d tried to court them for years, and falling in love with two gentlemen.
Her father had told her tales of Eros, the Greek god of love, son of Aphrodite. If there was such a being, he had a lot to answer for!
After Mrs Largan’s funeral, Livia noticed a change in Kathleen. She’d never been exactly docile, because she was too used to getting her own way, but had settled down reasonably well, spending most of her days with the horses and sitting with Livia in the evenings.
Now she seemed to be having moments where her mind went blank, at least it did if her facial expression was anything to judge by. And she was talking to herself, breaking off and looking guilty if anyone came near her.
What was happening to her?
She was so different from Leo, who was also slow-thinking. He was innately kind and seemed to sense what would hurt someone. Even Kathleen responded well to him, because he knew so much about horses and was allowing her to help school Francis’s horses and to keep an eye on a pregnant mare.
Once or twice Kathleen fell into black moods and tried to quarrel with him but he simply stared at her then turned away to do some job or other. She would come stumping into the house to complain about him to her hostess, but Livia insisted he was in charge of the animals and knew exactly what he was doing.
In the evenings, Livia usually read to her guest, something which seemed to calm her down quite well. But now, instead of listening intently, Kathleen let her attention wander, jerking back to gaze at Livia as if she was listening, but not asking questions as she had before, just – staring.
Kathleen had nightmares too, thrashing around in her bed and waking everyone with screams and cries.
Livia began to understand that this life couldn’t go on and to think about her own future again. She didn’t want to spend her life tied to this strange young woman, but taking charge of Kathleen had given her time to adjust to her loss and think about her future, not to mention money to buy food without dipping into her meagre savings.
She knew for certain now that she didn’t want to return to England, where she had no one to turn to. But what did she want to do with herself? She started scanning the newspapers when she could get them to see if there were advertisements for governesses. Surely she could manage to teach girls?
In the meantime she was saving all the money Reece and Cassandra were paying her to use her fields for two cows they’d purchased, which made her feel safer. And she was learning from Orla of all people how to be frugal. Kathleen no longer seemed interested in having a maid look after her and Orla had turned happily to helping Livia.
Now that there was no Francis to make foolish purchases and insist they were necessary, Livia found she could live more cheaply than she’d expected.
After working out where her money went, she wrote to the bookseller in Perth to say that her husband had died and she could no longer afford to purchase books from him. She sighed wistfully as she looked at the letter, but it had to be sent.
But she also sent a message to the local shop that she wanted to receive her own copy of The Perth Gazette. It came out on Fridays but arrived later in the country. She’d have to send Leo to pick up her copy. Surely she’d find some form of employment in it? There were lots of advertisements.
When she went outside and looked at the sky, she sighed again at the sight of rain clouds building up to the west, because Kathleen was much harder to control when it was stormy. It was as if something unpleasant in her that was normally under control was stirred by the dark forces of the storm.
Livia hadn’t expected that and grew a little nervous, so asked Leo to help keep an eye on Kathleen in stormy weather.
He nodded. ‘The horses get edgy too. She’s more like them than like you, isn’t she? She’s not a real lady. Something inside her head doesn’t work properly.’
Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings, she thought. Now where did that saying come from? She spent a pleasant hour searching the Bible and found it in Psalms.
By that time Kathleen had come in, gone to wash and flung herself down in a chair.
‘Why don’t you do some embroidery?’
‘I hate embroidery.’
‘Ladies often keep themselves occupied with fancywork.’
‘I don’t want to! Read to me.’
In the end, for the sake of peace, Livia did this. But she lay awake and worried that night. Kathleen seemed to be behaving more and more strangely, and she couldn’t understand why her guest had changed.
By the time the ship got to Suez, Ronan was feeling much better, though he still grew tired more quickly than usual. He listened to the other passengers making plans to visit ancient monuments or go and inspect the diggings for the canal. He was worried that Xanthe would join them and delay him. He needed to get home as quickly as possible, but he intended to make sure she got home first.
He bribed the steward to find out what Xanthe was intending.
‘Miss B
lake is intending to go and inspect the Suez Canal diggings, sir,’ the steward told him. ‘Thank you. Most generous.’ He pocketed the tip.
Ronan paced the deck, worrying about that, and wondered whether he could feign a relapse that required her attention. Then destiny intervened again, or chance, he didn’t care what it was called. One of the other passengers, a gentleman to whom Ronan had taken an instant dislike, attached himself to the group intending to go and see the sights.
He’d been making a nuisance of himself to Xanthe intermittently, but had stopped when his overtures got him nowhere. However, one evening Ronan found him trying to force himself upon her in a quiet part of the deck. He took the fellow by the scruff of the neck and threw him away by force, so furious he had trouble controlling himself.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked Xanthe after the fellow had slunk off.
‘Yes. Thank you so much for helping me. I can’t understand why he thought—Why will men not leave me alone?’
‘Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?’
She flushed and bit her lip, obviously embarrassed by this. ‘I don’t dwell on my appearance. Ronan . . . isn’t there some way I can stop them?’
‘No way has ever been found of stopping men lusting after a beautiful woman.’
‘You don’t annoy me with unwanted attentions. Nor do most other gentlemen. It’s just a few, like him.’
‘I think my mother brought me up with better manners. And besides . . . you and I are good friends, are we not? I’d hate to spoil our friendship.’
Their eyes met and for a moment neither said a word, then she nodded. ‘Yes, I too value our friendship.’
‘If you go on an expedition with that group, there will be no one to protect you. I doubt the Garstons will make the effort.’
‘Could you not come too?’
‘Not this time. I really do have to get home.’
‘Of course. I knew that really. I shouldn’t have asked.’ She crossed her arms across her breasts in a protective gesture. ‘In that case, I don’t think it’d be wise to go.’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘It’s not fair. Men have such a better time in life.’