A Handful of Ashes

by Janet Woods

  He gazed at the girl, inhaling the ripe, natural smell of her bodily musk. She was handsome rather than pretty, had clear skin, knowing eyes and a full-lipped mouth. Her voice was husky with promise, her words blatantly opportunist. ‘Can I be of service to you, sir?’

  Could she? He didn’t want her body, he just needed release. He contemplated that weakness for a moment, justified it to himself. Afterwards, he would function better, especially since there would be no emotion involved.

  She nodded when he stated his terms. ‘Not here, though. It’s in plain view of the house. I’ll meet you behind the hedge in a few moments.’

  When he joined her, she sank to her knees and efficiently relieved him of his burden for the price of half-a-crown.

  Soon, the harvest had been successfully gathered in and the supper had been celebrated in the new barn, in the usual riotous manner. Marcus knew it was time to set his plans in motion.

  One day, when rain drifted down in sheets from a miserable grey sky, he went up to the nursery to gaze adoringly at his sleeping infants. ‘Goodbye, my dearest little ones. I’ll be back one day and you’ll be changed, but I’ll carry this memory of you in my heart.’

  His heart swelled with pride when he looked at Alexander, his son and heir. It melted again at the sight of his sweet little Jane Louise, so fragile and beautiful. The pair of them were too young to be aware that their mother had died, and for that he was thankful. Such love he held for these two, it was going to be a wrench leaving them, he thought, as he placed a kiss on each of their delicate, rose-tinted cheeks.

  But leave them Marcus did, for his course had been set long ago and now he had more reason than ever to complete what he’d set out to do. His coachman took him first to Rivervale House. It was a sad house now, silent and forlorn without Siana and the children in residence.

  He found Francis in the conservatory, staring morosely out over the sodden garden. ‘I have come to make my farewell, Francis.’

  Bewildered, the doctor stared at him. ‘Farewell?’

  ‘I’m leaving for New South Wales, where I have urgent business. I did tell you.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course. I’d forgotten.’

  Marcus frowned. ‘As my children’s grandfather, you haven’t forgotten you’ve promised to assume responsibility for them in my absence. My nursery staff are excellent, but if you feel the need, please don’t hesitate to bring the children into your home. They are so very precious to me.’

  Francis nodded as he turned back to his contemplation of the garden. ‘You can trust me, Marcus.’

  Casually, he said, ‘I’ll be visiting Mrs Matheson in Van Diemen’s Land. Do you have a message you wish me to deliver to her?’

  A nerve in Francis’s jaw twitched. ‘Tell her . . .’ Marcus held his breath then expelled it in a rush when Francis said flatly, ‘Tell her I hope you find her well.’

  ‘Damn it, Francis, can’t you forgive Siana after all this time?’

  ‘I would prefer it if you attended to your own business, Marcus. I haven’t forgotten your part in this.’

  ‘Only a fool is ruled by his pride.’

  ‘I’ll make sure your children are looked after. Bon voyage.’

  ‘Would you dismiss me so soon, declining me the opportunity to take refreshment with you before we part?’

  With a thin smile, Francis turned to engage his glance. His eyes were hollow and haunted, filled with pain. ‘Since you live but a short distance from here, I doubt if you need any refreshment. You have adequately delivered your message. I’m in no mood to be preached to.’

  Marcus held out a hand to him, receiving for his trouble a handshake, impersonal and without warmth. This man knew how to keep people at arm’s length. ‘You’re a different man without your family around you.’

  Francis’s query reeked of indifference. ‘How so?’

  ‘You are lonely, and diminished in your own eyes, Francis. Self-pity doesn’t sit well on your shoulders. I suspect you’re beginning to think the decision you made regarding your responsibilities was an ill-advised one. And it was.’ He smiled slightly, wondering what he’d do if Francis punched him. ‘You might as well know. I care too much for Siana to leave her isolated from those she loves. I’m going to offer her a home at the manor.’

  He saw the struggle in Francis to restrain his anger, and wished the man would let go of it, for then he might begin to heal. Finally, the doctor said, ‘In the past, I’ve noticed your regard for my wife oversteps the bounds of convention from time to time. I do not appreciate the familiarity of your friendship, and neither do I intend to give you permission to invite Mrs Matheson to move into your home.’

  Marcus chuckled. ‘I don’t need your permission, for Siana is old enough to make her own decision. As for my friendship with her, I hope to build on that.’

  Having delivered his parting shot and having had the satisfaction of watching his father-in-law’s shoulders stiffen and his hands curl into fists, Marcus turned on his heel and left, hoping his words would bring the man to his senses.

  12

  While the ship Marcus had boarded was spreading her sails to the wind at the start of her long journey, others of his acquaintance were attending the theatre in London.

  Pansy, who was attending a matinée performance at the Royal Pantheon in the Strand in the company of Aunt Prudence and Justina Parsons, wished she was anywhere but here. Despite the superior ventilation system the theatre owners prided themselves on, the place was stuffy and it smelled of stale smoke. She’d developed quite a headache.

  Justina prattled incessantly, seemingly torn apart by nerves in the presence of the countess. As well she might be. Aunt Prudence was easily irritated today and snapped at the unfortunate young woman, ‘Do be quiet, girl.’

  Justina blushed and gazed down at her hands, embarrassed by the reprimand. Pansy felt sorry for her.

  Prudence turn her censorious gaze upon Pansy, who was able to cope with it more easily, since it was something she’d grown up with. ‘Alder has asked his father to purchase him a commission in the army.’

  ‘Alder told me. He’ll make a good soldier and the discipline will be good for him.’

  ‘Discipline!’ Prudence said on an ominously up-sliding note. Pansy hoped her aunt was not about to make a scene, not here in the theatre. If so, she would just get up and walk out.

  ‘Alder would look awfully dashing in a uniform,’ Justina twittered, and was immediately quelled by a look from Prudence.

  ‘Don’t be so ridiculous. How can a man look awful and dashing at the same time? I am having a conversation with my niece, kindly don’t offer your opinion unless it is asked for.’ Prudence turned Pansy’s way again. ‘It’s all your doing, Pansy. Alder has quite given up hope of winning your hand in marriage.’

  ‘After all this time I certainly hope so, Aunt.’

  ‘I’ll say this for you, you’re a determined young lady, one with more backbone than your poor, doomed sister ever had. You remind me of myself at your age, though I had more sense than to turn down a good offer when I saw one.’

  Pansy’s lips tightened.

  As the orchestra began its overture, Prudence turned again to Justina. ‘I suppose you’d be willing to accept an offer from Alder. After all, he is the son of an earl.’

  An excited little yelp came from Justina and she began to jiggle on her seat, like a puppy about to wet itself.

  ‘Seeing as my ungrateful niece won’t have him, I might as well tell Alder’s father to advise him on an alternative match. Someone must bear his children, and your money will be compensation for him. You do admire him, I suppose?’

  ‘Oh yes, Lady Kylchester. Most dreadfully.’

  The countess grimaced.

  The stage curtains were drawn aside to reveal a purple-gowned woman in a tragic pose, the back of her hand reclining limply against her forehead. ‘I have lost my true love to another,’ the actress said and moved her hand to her bosom as she paused to gaze dramaticall
y at the audience.

  In the dim light, Pansy allowed herself a jubilant smile.

  There were a variety of acts presented, songs, monologues and scenes from plays. During one of the intervals Pansy happened to notice a familiar face in the hall below. Miss Edgar with Daisy? And wasn’t that Josh with his business partner next to them? She hadn’t known Josh was in London. Her heart gave a series of rather alarming thumps. How handsome he was now.

  Making sure her aunt was fully absorbed by the dramatics, for apart from Marcus Ibsen Pansy had told nobody of her tender feelings towards Josh, though she’d thought of him often since they’d been apart, Pansy took a pencil from her bag and began to scribble on her programme.

  When they’d been small, she and Maryse had played a game. They’d stare at the back of their father’s neck and see if their steadfast gaze would make him turn around and pay attention to them.

  Now she stared at Josh’s profile with all the love she felt for him churning inside her, and thought she might burst from the excitement. It was wonderful to see him, and how well he looked. This was the man she was going to marry. He just didn’t know it yet.

  It was Daisy who saw Pansy first. Waving, she then nudged her brother in the ribs. Blue eyes turned almost lazily her way. Recognition came into them as they gazed at each other for a moment or two. Pansy felt her cheeks heat as his mouth quirked into a smile and he blew her a kiss.

  The balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet was followed by the death scene, which concluded the performances. The two parties met in the foyer, the countess pretending Josh didn’t exist. How rude of her to cut him dead. The countess’s ears were twitching with curiosity, nevertheless, and she didn’t walk away.

  ‘What are you doing in London?’ Pansy asked him while they waited for the carriage to be brought round.

  ‘Buying a bit of property, and looking for Goldie.’

  ‘Goldie?’

  ‘We believe she’s in a workhouse, somewhere.’

  Pansy paled. ‘Surely my father has not abandoned her.’

  ‘He abandoned Bryn.’

  Prudence suddenly lost her air of being uninterested. ‘The unfortunate boy is not abandoned. At the moment he’s residing with a trusted servant until a school can be arranged for him. That is a different kettle of fish altogether. And nobody could expect anything more. The boy was passed off on dear Francis as his son by your own sister. Why should he have Maryse’s shame thrust upon him, especially since it caused his daughter’s death?’

  Breath hissed between Josh’s teeth and Miss Edgar and Mr Dennings drew Daisy away to examine a poster displayed on the wall.

  ‘Maryse’s shame didn’t kill her. It was the shame attributed to her by people who professed to love her one minute and condemned her the next. Perhaps it could have been avoided had she been offered the support she needed.’

  Pansy gasped at that, and so did the countess, who said, ‘You are too outspoken.’

  ‘I’ve learned to be of late, and if Goldie isn’t found soon, I’m going to be more outspoken yet.’

  ‘Francis would not abandon the girl, you know.’

  ‘I know of no such thing. If he has, he’s going to get a shock, because when I find her I’ll be taking her straight home and giving him a piece of my mind.’ He gazed apologetically at Pansy. ‘Sorry, Miss Matheson, but someone has to shake some sense into him.’

  ‘That’s not your place, young man. Francis has older brothers to guide him.’

  Josh snorted. ‘I hope the doc turns out to have more sense than they have, then. He was as happy as a pig wallowing in muck married to our Siana, and them with a litter of kids running around the place. Now he’s as miserable as sin. What sort of advice was it that made him that way?’

  ‘Don’t be vulgar,’ Prudence snapped, so affronted she could hardly get the words out.

  When the carriage came into view Pansy dropped her reticule. As together they bent to retrieve it, she took the opportunity to slip the programme inside Josh’s jacket. ‘Please let me know when you find Goldie,’ she whispered.

  The countess moved off, her back rigid, and accompanied by the attentive Justina, who was wide-eyed with the excitement of the encounter.

  When they’d gone, Josh gazed at the note, which had been written around the margins.

  Dearest Josh,

  Meet me by the bandstand in Hyde Park at 3 p.m. the day after tomorrow. Aunt Prudence has a card afternoon arranged. If I beg off with a headache I should be able to leave the house unnoticed. There is something I urgently need to tell you.

  Pansy Matheson

  He shouldn’t encourage Pansy to deceive her aunt, he really shouldn’t. Josh smiled to himself, knowing he would.

  Daisy had been entranced by Romeo and Juliet. Miss Edgar had told her beforehand that the story was about a girl and boy who fell in love, but their families hated each other so they were forbidden to marry and they both killed themselves. It was romantic and sad, and the actress was so pretty that Daisy had cried when she died, and was relieved to see her alive again when the cast bowed to the audience.

  Since the Countess of Kylchester had been so horrible to Josh, Daisy decided she wasn’t going to marry one of the Matheson cousins, for she didn’t want to have the countess for a mother-in-law. She was going to become a famous actress instead.

  It was Daisy who provided the clue to Goldie’s whereabouts, finding it in the window of a wig-maker’s establishment.

  ‘That’s Goldie’s hair,’ she whispered to Miss Edgar, whose attention had been captured by the pair of matching false ringlets that had led her into thinking much the same thing. Miss Edgar had brushed Goldie’s hair enough times to know it when she saw it.

  ‘It certainly looks like it.’

  They entered the shop and the governess smiled gently at the assistant when the ringlets were brought to the counter for their inspection. ‘Such a pretty colour hair. Where does it come from?’

  ‘The workhouse round the corner, madam. We buy a lot of hair from there. That colour is rare and the hair is very fine. It will fetch a good price.’

  ‘If it’s rare there won’t be a market for it,’ Daisy said, her sudden logic startling Miss Edgar. ‘I will pay you ten shillings for it.’

  The assistant gazed at her in a rather snooty manner. ‘Where would you get ten shillings from?’

  Remembering she was going to be an actress, Daisy looked down her nose at the woman, saying as haughtily as she was able, ‘You won’t be asking questions if I fetch the constable.’ She changed tack, laying her hand against her forehead like the actress in purple had done. ‘I have lost my sister. That hair was cut from her head after she was kidnapped.’

  When the assistant laughed, Daisy glared at her. ‘It’s not funny. She might well have been murdered. However, if we discover her alive in the workhouse, my brother will pay you a generous reward.’

  ‘How generous?’

  ‘Two guineas.’

  ‘Five.’

  Miss Edgar gasped as Daisy picked up the ringlets and said, ‘Give this female ten shillings, Miss Edgar. That’s all she will get from me.’ Daisy swept from the shop with her nose regally in the air.

  Dropping the contents of her purse on the counter with the hope that it would cover the negotiations that had recently taken place, Miss Edgar scurried after her errant pupil in case the assistant called for a constable herself. Or worse, an officer from the insane asylum.

  It wasn’t until they were out of the shop and halfway back to the boarding house that a ticket for seven shillings and sixpence was discovered on the ringlets.

  Josh was informed of the find straight away and, although he was dubious, the four of them went to the grim workhouse immediately, to check the place out.

  When they confronted her, Mrs Tweddle gazed at the ringlets, the colour receding from her face. ‘The Matheson girl is in the infirmary. She’s got sickness of the lungs and the doctor has just seen her. He said she won’t last the mon
th out.’

  ‘You stay here with Giles,’ Josh told Daisy and stared hard at the woman. ‘Take us to her, at once.’

  Goldie was weak, pale and dirty. Fever spots burned brightly on her cheeks.

  Miss Edgar took her former charge into her arms. ‘Oh, my dearest. How on earth did you get into this dreadful state?’

  Goldie’s eyes fluttered open for a moment and tears glittered on her lashes as she whispered. ‘I want to go home.’

  Choked by the anger he felt, Josh could hardly speak. ‘And so you shall. Josh Skinner will take you there himself. Nothing will be too good for Miss Marigold Matheson.’

  ‘I’ll have to get clearance from the doctor before she’s signed out,’ Mrs Tweddle told him slyly. ‘It’s regulations. There will be a fee to pay, of course.’

  ‘Damn your soddin’ regulations, woman. I know what you’re after, and I’m not greasing the palm of the likes of you. You sign them papers quick smart, ’cause I’m taking her now. If you get in my way I’ll walk right over the bleddy top of you.’ So fiercely did Josh say it, the woman did as she was told, sharpish.

  They left with Goldie wrapped in the workhouse blanket.

  ‘You’ll have to pay for the blanket,’ the woman protested, chasing after them.

  Last in line and still playing the duchess, Daisy, who wasn’t about to repeat the mistake she’d made over the ringlets, scrabbled in her pocket, turned and threw a coin at her. ‘Here’s thruppence, my good woman. That’s all the filthy rag is worth.’

  ‘Thruppence?’ Mrs Tweddle screeched. ‘Is that all?’

  Her hands on her hips, Daisy dropped her grand manner and became herself, glaring ferociously at the woman. ‘You made money from the wig-maker from Goldie’s hair, you ghoul. Now, sod off!’ She kicked the woman in the shin to reinforce her words and scurried quickly out of the way.

  Unexpectedly, her governess gave her a talking-to when they were safely out of Mrs Tweddle’s reach. ‘Don’t you ever let me hear you swear like that again, Daisy Skinner. It’s vulgar.’