‘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 anything 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.
‘Yes, he’s an opportunist, is Cousin Thomas. He also bought a few acres over at Hornsea, and if the railway line comes as they say it will, it will double in value.’ He nodded. ‘If anyone was looking for a suitable husband for one of their daughters, Tom would be a good candidate.’
‘But?’ Ellen queried. ‘He’s a miller’s son. Do you want more for
your
daughter?’
He looked bewildered for a moment at her question and then hurt. ‘I have never been pretentious, Ellen, you surely know that. I only want my children’s well-being. Besides,’ he gazed thoughtfully into space, ‘I was taught never to forget my beginnings. My mother was the daughter of a common seaman. She never forgot it, she was proud of it almost, even though she became mistress of this great house.’
‘I know,’ she said gently. ‘I was only asking. But the difficulties I was speaking of are Tom’s. You see, he has more pride than you.’
‘I don’t understand what you mean, Ellen,’ he
replied a trifle irritably. ‘Why do you have to speak in riddles? Pride! What has pride got to do with anything?’
‘It has to do with Tom! He won’t ask for her, I’m convinced of that. No matter that he loves her.’
‘Why not?’ he demanded. ‘Doesn’t she care for him?’
‘I don’t think she knows yet.’ She smiled wistfully. ‘But he won’t ask for her. He’s such a gentleman, is Tom – only he doesn’t know it.’
‘For heaven’s sake, Ellen! What are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about you being a landowner, William.’ She shook her head at her husband’s obtuseness. ‘Whilst Tom knows he is only a miller’s son.’
Sammi looked up from the sands and saw Tom on the cliff top silhouetted against the red and gold of the sunset. She knew instantly that it was him, even though she couldn’t see his face. She knew his tall figure, his head of thick dark hair, his unmistakable long-legged stride.
How well I know him
, she thought as she waved to him.
He has always been there whenever I needed to talk to someone. He must have known that I need someone now
.
He slithered down the cliff face, his boots making score marks in the oozing boulder clay as he jumped over the broken hummocks and ridges where there had been another fall.
‘Tom,’ she chastised him. ‘I remember you telling me never to do that! You once told me that I must always use the steps.’
‘Do as I say,’ he laughed, rubbing the mud from his hands, ‘not as I do! And that must have been a long time ago, for I can’t remember.’
‘I was about ten, I think, and I fell half-way down. You scrambled down and rescued me.’ She laughed at the recollection. ‘I was covered in mud and I lost my shoes.’
‘Yes! That’s right, I do remember. You were such a harum-scarum child. Always into mischief. Trouble always seemed to find you.’ He smiled down at her, his eyes gentle.
‘It still does. But sometimes it’s my own fault.’ She looked up and was about to say more, but couldn’t understand his expression and changed her mind. ‘Is something wrong, Tom? Why are you not at the mill?’
‘The first thing is that I have come to fetch you home for an early supper – orders from your mama.’
Oh
, she thought,
so you didn’t come especially to see me, just when I wanted to talk to you
.
‘And secondly, I wanted to tell you that I am going into Hull to try and find Betsy, and to ask where you think I should start looking?’
‘You could start with Billy and Gilbert.’ They linked arms as they retraced their steps, and she thought of the extra problems that Gilbert now had over the bank’s closure, and of her own angry pronouncement that one day he would pay for his misdemeanour.
Should I tell Tom about Gilbert and Adam? Perhaps not; he would be so angry; he would think him dishonourable
.
The waves lapped close to their feet, leaving a frothy lacy edge on the sand and a damp edge to Sammi’s skirt. ‘Would you like me to come with you?’ she asked. ‘Would I be able to help?’
‘No. I don’t think so.’
She bent and picked up a pebble and hurled it into the sea; the dog leapt in after it, barking joyfully.
‘Ooh! Why the temper?’ he asked quietly.
‘It wasn’t temper!’
He stopped. ‘I think it was. What’s wrong, Sammi?’
‘I only wanted to help; to come with you and look for Betsy. But I am only a woman and of course I’m not allowed!’ She hung her head and scuffed the sand with her shoe. ‘And I’m very mixed up about Adam. Aunt Mildred says she will take responsibility for him after all.’
I don’t understand her motives
, she thought.
James has
denied to me that Adam is his, and Gilbert hasn’t yet plucked up the courage to tell her that
he
is the father. There is something very strange happening
.
Tom frowned. ‘Why has she changed her mind?’
‘I don’t know!’ Sammi cried fractiously. ‘No-one wanted him when I brought him here, everyone was prepared to let him go to a charity home, or anywhere out of sight – except Mama,’ she added softly. ‘She wasn’t so cruel.’
‘It doesn’t seem to make sense,’ Tom admitted. ‘But you should be pleased that she has had a change of heart and is prepared to accept him.’
He looked away down the long sands which stretched towards the high cliffs of Dimlington and the slender fingertip of Spurn peninsula. ‘You are naturally curious about her reasons, but you have to think of your own future, Sammi. One day you will marry,’ he said, tight-lipped. ‘Your parents want what is best for you, and the longer the child stays here, the more gossip there will be.’ He turned to look at her and found that she was gazing stonily out to sea. He put his hand under her chin. ‘Look at me.’ She lifted her head and gazed at him; her brown eyes were moist and he wanted to kiss away her tears. ‘The child has red hair! He
could
be yours.’
She couldn’t tell him the truth about Gilbert, but said passionately, ‘I only want what is best for Adam. How I hate gossipmongers – mischief makers. And – and why should my virtue be so important in the general scheme of things?’ A flush touched her cheeks as she spoke, but she continued to gaze defiantly at him. ‘When I was a child I was brought up to be independent, to think for myself.’ Her voice dropped and there was a note of resentfulness. ‘But now that I am a woman, I must change my disposition and only do what is expected of me, because of what others might think!’
‘There have to be rules, Sammi,’ he said gently. ‘Society falls apart without them.’
‘Don’t tell me that you believe in this – this social disease of narrow-mindedness, Tom? I can’t believe that of you!’
‘No. I don’t. I believe that we must do what we think is right at the time, as you did over Adam.’ He hesitated as he looked down at her fervent expression. ‘We must adhere to what we believe in, and we shouldn’t ignore our convictions of principles and scruples, even though—’ he touched her cheek with his fingers, ‘—even though it might bring us unhappiness in the long run.’