Children Of The Tide

by Valerie Wood

  ‘Great heavens!’ Gilbert raged. ‘They don’t waste any time, do they? Do they think that we’re not going to pay their paltry little bills?’

  Hardwick stood silently for a moment, the rain became heavier and started to run down his face. ‘I don’t think that is the situation, Mr Gilbert,’ he said quietly, with just a hint of reproach in his voice. ‘But both companies bank with Willard’s. They may find it difficult to pay their men.’

  ‘Oh. Of course. Yes. I wasn’t thinking,’ Gilbert said, crestfallen. He turned to move away and then on impulse handed back the umbrella. Hardwick was wearing only his office suit, which already was soaked about the shoulders.

  ‘Take this,’ he said. ‘I’ve got my coat and hat on, and I’ll call a cab.’

  But he didn’t; several hansoms slowed down as they approached him during his walk across the town towards the Billingtons’ home, but he waved them on. He put his head down and hunched into his collar, letting the rain engulf him.

  ‘Oh, Gilbert! What a terrible thing to have happened. Mama is distraught, I can do nothing with her. She only talks of the shame.’ Harriet grasped his hands as he entered the drawing-room.

  ‘But what have you heard? What has happened? No-one seems to know. The bank doors are locked, and rumours are flying that the bank has failed.’

  She sank into an armchair and put her hands over her face. He knelt beside her. ‘Harriet. Tell me what you know,’ he said quietly. ‘I have to know so that I can act. Our livelihood depends on it.’

  Suddenly he felt stronger; he would be more capable of making decisions once he knew the facts.

  She raised her head. ‘We shall have no livelihood. Not if you have banked with my father.’ She searched for a handkerchief in her skirts and Gilbert took one of his from his pocket and handed it to her.

  ‘Don’t you see, Gilbert?’ she said tearfully. ‘We’re ruined, and it is his fault.’

  ‘You’re being melodramatic, Harriet,’ he said firmly. ‘Now take a deep breath and tell me what in heaven’s name has happened.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what has happened, Gilbert.’ Mrs Billington’s voice boomed from the doorway and Gilbert rose to his feet as she entered. Her hair was dishevelled and her eyes were dull with fatigue, but behind the tiredness was a glimmer of anger.

  ‘For years I have put up with his whores and his mistresses. No, I make no excuse for my language, Harriet,’ she said, as her daughter drew in a sharp breath. ‘You have to know all of the truth – you too, Gilbert – and we’ll soon know if you are man enough to stand by us.’ Her mouth twisted in a sneer. ‘Your father, Harriet, has been spending my money for years on his excesses. My money! Old money, not tainted money of doubtful origin, as I discovered his was.’ She lowered herself into a chair. ‘But now,’ she said bitterly, ‘an official has been from the bank. He says that he’s been using the bank’s money for his own schemes. He’s been speculating with clients’ accounts.’

  Gilbert felt himself grow cold. He had given everything over to Billington, trusting him to open the accounts and accepting only his signature. He had disregarded Hardwick’s misgivings on the procedures. ‘But what – what did he say? It can’t be the sole reason for the closure.’

  She nodded. ‘He said he is solely responsible for the mismanagement of funds. The liabilities are eighty thousand pounds, and the bank’s assets only twenty thousand.’ She clasped her hands to her chest. ‘They will notify the authorities that he has committed fraud.’ Her voice was a muffled whisper. ‘He will go to prison.’

  ‘Where is Mr Billington now?’ Gilbert asked in a low voice. ‘Is he at the bank?’

  Mrs Billington lifted her head. ‘He’s upstairs. Locked in his room. He refuses to come out.’

  ‘May I go up?’

  ‘He won’t speak to you, Gilbert,’ Harriet grieved. ‘I’ve tried, but he refuses to answer.’

  Gilbert walked to the door, and Mrs Billington called after him, ‘There’s nothing he can say. Nothing that can change anything. He has ruined my life.’

  And not only yours, dear lady, Gilbert deliberated as he walked up the stairs. There are many who will be cursing his name this day. He tapped on Billington’s door and called out to him. ‘Mr Billington! It’s Gilbert Rayner. Can I come in?’

  ‘No. You can’t. Leave me alone.’ Billington’s voice was clear and decisive.

  ‘I must speak to you, sir. Your wife and Harriet, they are most distressed.’

  ‘Ah! My wife! Yes, she will be. But tell Harriet not to worry, she’s got you to look after her, after all. Are the constables here yet?’ he asked suddenly.

  ‘No.’ Gilbert had his face pressed against the door. ‘Won’t you let me in, sir? You need to be represented. I could arrange for a lawyer to act for you.’

  ‘Hah! Too late for that, old fellow. One gamble too many, I’m afraid.’

  There was silence and Gilbert waited for Billington to speak again. He could hear the sound of drawers being opened and closed. ‘Sir!’ He knocked softly on the door. ‘Arrangements have to be made. I need to know what must be done. What about Mrs Billington? How does she stand financially?’

  There was no answer for a few moments, then Billington answered in a low voice, ‘I expect her relatives will rally round,’ he said, ‘and the house is hers anyway.’ He sounded very weary. ‘And I expect that you will help out. You’re a decent sort of fellow.’

  Gilbert was suddenly angry. ‘How can I help if I’m bankrupt?’ he said sharply. ‘I trusted you. I moved all our assets over to you when I could have left them where they were safe.’

  ‘You wanted a gamble, Rayner. A bit of excitement, a chance of making more money.’

  ‘I didn’t want to risk the company, lose our ships, throw the men out of work.’ He was full of emotion. ‘I didn’t know that that was the risk. My family has worked hard for their good name. I trusted you.’

  Again there was silence, then, ‘Yes, I know. I’m sorry.’

  Gilbert turned away. Harriet was right, it was no use. There was nothing he could do. Only wait and let events unfold. He had reached the bottom of the stairs when a shot rang out. He stopped and turned, his heart racing. Harriet and her mother appeared at the drawing-room door.

  ‘What was that?’ Harriet’s shocked face stared at him and her mother clutched her arm.

  ‘Send for a doctor!’ Gilbert raced back up the stairs to Billington’s room. ‘Tell him there has been an accident.’ He put his foot up and crashed it against the door. It was solid and held, jarring his foot. He moved back and kicked again and he felt the lock shudder. Once more he put his strength behind it and the lock broke, bursting the door open.

  Sickened, he stood in the doorway and surveyed the scene in front of him. Austin Billington lay, unrecognizable, his face down on his desk, a pistol in his hand and his brains splattered over the carpet.

  41

  Luke Reedbarrow stood at the door of the mill, blocking Tom’s way out. Though Tom was tall and broad, Luke towered over him, his wide shoulders filling the doorway.

  ‘Where’s Betsy?’ he demanded. ‘I’m sick of being fobbed of wi’ excuses. Tha’s sent her away, hasn’t tha, so that she can’t see me?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, man.’ Tom flushed with anger. ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘Because tha doesn’t think I’m good enough for her! Tha’d somebody better in mind. Somebody with a bit o’ brass, not a common labouring lout.’ Luke’s blue eyes glared at his employer. He was taking a risk in talking in such a manner.

  Tom stared back at him. He didn’t dislike the man, but he disapproved of his careless lackadaisical attitude. Though he was generally polite to those of higher rank, he also appeared indifferent regarding their opinion of him.

  ‘You do yourself a disservice, Reedbarrow. If Betsy wants to go out with you, she can. My father said as much.’ Tom made to go through the door but his way was barred as Luke put his brawny arm across the doorway.

 
‘Thy fayther said – but what about thee? Tha doesn’t approve?’

  ‘Look!’ Tom grew exasperated. ‘It has nothing to do with me. Not any more. Betsy can do as she likes – she does do as she likes. She doesn’t ask my opinion.’

  ‘So where is she then, if tha hasn’t sent her away? She’s been gone over three weeks and never a word.’

  Tom took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know. She’s staying with friends in Hull. She hasn’t given us an address.’

  Each time she has written, he thought, she has left off the address. Neither has she mentioned her friends by name. Why hasn’t she? A niggling doubt rose to the surface as it had so many times recently. Why doesn’t she want us to know?

  ‘Tha doesn’t know?’ Luke Reedbarrow’s face creased in disbelief. ‘That’s a bit odd, isn’t it? Somebody must know. Miss Rayner – doesn’t she know?’

  Tom shook his head. ‘No, she’s as flummoxed as we are. But Betsy’s letters are cheerful,’ he added. ‘She’s enjoying herself while we’re here worrying.’

  Luke folded his arms across his chest as he pondered. ‘She’s not been ’same since she went to that wedding.’

  ‘What? What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, I know it was a shock when tha got back and found thy da injured, and then Betsy was ill, but after that she was restless somehow, as if she couldn’t settle.’

  He’s right, Tom thought. She was jumpy and nervous; she didn’t want Sammi to leave at first, and she spent time in bed and wouldn’t get up, saying that she was ill, but wouldn’t have the doctor.

  ‘Right then,’ Luke said determinedly. ‘I’ll go and look for her.’

  ‘No.’ Tom was adamant. He had made the same decision. ‘No. You stay here, there’s plenty you can be doing and I’ll have to dock your wages if you go.’

  ‘I’m not bothered about that,’ Luke began. ‘I’ll manage.’

  ‘I’ll go,’ Tom insisted. ‘If there are official enquiries to make, then I can make them as her brother. Besides, I shall ask our relatives first; if she’s in Hull they might have seen her.’

  Luke clenched and unclenched his big fists. ‘If she’s in trouble tha’ll tell me?’ he said. ‘I’ll stand by her.’

  For two pins I’d fight you, Tom considered as he discerned Luke’s meaning. But I might get the worst of it and I can’t go into Hull with a black eye or a cut lip. He had seen the results of Reedbarrow’s temper in the shape of a blooded farmhand who had the misfortune to say something disparaging about a member of the Reedbarrow family.

  ‘I’ll tell you,’ he said tersely. ‘Now, can we get back to work?’

  He didn’t have to visit Garston Hall to ask Sammi one more time if she had any idea where Betsy might be, but he did. He left George and Luke to bring the sails to rest and lower the stones after they had finished milling, saddled up and rode over to Monkston.

  It was a beautiful evening, it had rained during the morning, but the sun had come out in the late afternoon and the sky was shot with wide streaks of red and orange, even the darkening clouds had shades of soft pink within them. He could hear the murmuring of the sea as he trotted down the lane which led through Monkston and towards the long drive of Garston Hall. It was a calming, somnolent sound. A soothing lullaby which could rock a child to sleep.

  He stopped before turning up the tree-lined entrance, and listened. He wasn’t misled by its gentleness. He had lived all of his life at Tillington; he was a landsman, born to work the earth and its fruits, but his ancestors had been seamen and the sea was in his blood. His great-grandfather, Will Foster, the common root which he shared with his Rayner relatives, had been a whaling man, and Tom knew of the sea’s capriciousness, when, as if on a fickle whim, its mood could change from caressing waters to a vicious pounding sea, bent on destruction.

  * * *

  ‘Sammi has gone for a walk before supper, Tom.’ Aunt Ellen invited him in to the drawing-room where she and Uncle William were sitting. ‘I don’t suppose she will be long. Will you stay and eat with us?’

  ‘I suppose I ought to get back,’ he hedged. ‘I intend to go into Hull tomorrow to see if I can find Betsy. I thought I would ask Sammi where she thought I should begin.’

  ‘Do you – do you really think something has happened? That she is not with friends after all?’ Ellen sat forward in her chair.

  ‘I don’t know what to think,’ he said worriedly. ‘I just don’t understand.’

  ‘I’m driving into Hull tomorrow, Tom,’ William offered. ‘You could come with me, though I’m staying over a few days and you’d have to make your own way back.’

  ‘I’d appreciate that, sir. It will save me taking the trap, and I can get a ride back with the carrier if I finish in time; otherwise I’ll stay the night.’

  William nodded and rose to stand by the fire. ‘I’ll pick you up at about six. I have to go in and talk to Gilbert. You’ll have heard about this business with Billington and the bank?’

  ‘Yes, it was in the newspaper. A terrible affair. I hope it doesn’t affect you too much?’

  William pursed his lips. ‘We shall have lost out, certainly. How much, we don’t know as yet. The worrying thing is the two missing ships. If they’re lost and we’re not covered, then the company is finished.’

  He stared down into the flames of the fire. ‘I blame myself as much as anyone,’ he said in a low voice. ‘We should have assessed Billington more thoroughly. Gilbert was obviously swayed by him. Not his fault,’ he muttered. ‘Not his fault.’

  ‘Tom. Why don’t you go out and look for Sammi?’ Ellen sought for a change of subject. ‘She won’t be far away. Probably down on the sands – she’s taken the dog. Bring her back and we’ll have an early supper.’

  When Tom had gone, she stood up and put her arms around her husband and laid her head on his chest. ‘You mustn’t blame yourself, William,’ she said softly. ‘You are merely a silent partner. You have never had much to do with the running of the company.’

  ‘There was never any need when Isaac was alive; but I should have known that that boy, for that is all he is, couldn’t run it alone; he hasn’t had the experience, nor has he the acumen. No, I should have watched over him better.’

  ‘What will you do?’ she asked quietly. ‘Is it very bad for us?’

  ‘Bad enough,’ he said grimly. ‘But we shall survive. Thank God for land, even if some of it is being washed away. What I shall do—’ he put his arms around her so that they were locked in a close embrace, ‘—is spend a few days with Gilbert; Arthur is coming over from York and we’ll go over the details of the accounts to see where we stand, what money we have to come in and so on; and I shall suggest that we trim our sails, so to speak, and form a smaller company. One that is easier to handle, and then,’ he looked down at her, ‘I shall resign my directorship. My heart isn’t in it, Ellen. Isaac had all the sea water in his blood. It’s enough for me to watch it from the land. Billy can have my shares if he wants them, he’ll be able to take a more active part with Gilbert.’

  ‘And if he doesn’t want them?’ she murmured. ‘What then?’

  ‘Then Gilbert can have them. I’ll sell them to him for one penny and then I won’t feel so bad about resigning, and at least he will survive. It’s the least I can do to help him. He is my brother’s son.’

  ‘William!’ She drew away from him. ‘I need to talk to you about Adam. Mildred says she will accept responsibility, I know, but—’

  ‘Hmph. She didn’t want anything to do with him before, why the change of heart now? Has she accepted that he belongs to James?’ Ellen didn’t answer, but he didn’t appear to notice as he went on, ‘I don’t understand her; she was never very fond of children, not even her own.’

  ‘No.’ Ellen was thoughtful. ‘She wasn’t.’

  ‘Not like you, Mother Hen, with ours.’ He dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

  ‘Another thing,’ she murmured, deciding to leave the issue for the moment. ‘Have you noticed anythin
g about Tom lately?’

  He frowned. ‘Tom? No. He’s always in the mill when I call on Thomas. He works hard, that boy. Is he having some difficulties? Apart from worrying about Betsy?’

  ‘He might consider them difficulties,’ she said warily. ‘Though they might not be.’

  ‘Oh, come, Ellen, don’t be so mysterious. If he has a problem, you’d better tell me and have done with it. If Thomas is not well enough to guide his sons, then I must.’

  She smiled. ‘There can be no guidance in the matter of the heart, William. You of all people should know that.’

  ‘Oh.’ He grabbed her by the waist and held her fast. ‘What are you talking about, woman? Matters of the heart? What would I know about that? You know I only married you for your money! So tell me. Has Tom fallen in love with someone unsuitable?’

  ‘He loves Sammi,’ she said simply. ‘It’s as plain to see as the nose on your face!’

  He rubbed his fingers through his beard. ‘Sammi! Our Sammi do you mean?’

  ‘How many are there?’ she queried, as she ascertained his reaction.

  ‘You’ve sent him out looking for her,’ he said distantly. ‘Was that wise?’

  ‘They’ve been walking on the sands since they were children,’ she said softly. ‘I know that she is safe.’

  ‘But, how do you know of this? Has he spoken to you of it?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. But I know.’

  He sat down heavily in his chair. ‘Sammi! Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. But Tom! I never expected …! Not from that quarter.’ He looked up at his wife. ‘He’s a good man. Reliable, hard-working. And his prospects are good. Thomas was always a shrewd old devil.’ His face lit with humour as he mentioned his cousin’s name. ‘He’ll have a fair nest egg put by for his sons and daughter.’ He stretched out his long legs as he contemplated the news; Ellen sat down opposite him. ‘He told me once that he’d bought some railway shares. He’d been talking to Arthur, and he bought them at a good price, then sold them at a profit. And I know that he bought one or two parcels of land over near Beverley, not vast acreage, but near enough to other larger estates who might be interested in buying one day.