Different Tides (28 page)

His smile came back to her, slow and warm. ‘So I could make a career out of kissing you.’

Iris piped up, ‘Polly said that people who kiss each other have to get married, or else it’s naughty.’

‘You’re too young to know of such things, but I’ll bear that in mind.’

The door closed behind him and they all rushed to the landing window again.

When he reached the carriage, he waved and leapt inside. The vehicle went rumbling off.

The dogs raced down the stairs and scrabbled to be let out, so they could enjoy themselves by chasing the carriages.

‘Don’t let them out, else they’ll be halfway to London before we catch them,’ she said, as the children dashed after them.

July suddenly seemed ages away. She would make a calendar for the children; then they could learn how to use it as they crossed the days off.

She wondered if she’d spend the rest of her life waiting for Zachariah to return, the life in her body drying up, her hair going grey and her back bending under the weight of her spinsterhood. And would he still be pestering her for kisses?

She smiled. She certainly hoped so!

They had passed through Poole three hours ago, barely crawling. Zachariah had forgotten it was a market day. The road in and out of the port town was choked with horses and carts.

They stopped at his agent’s office so Zachariah could tell him he was leaving for London. The office had been busy, the walls covered with the usual posters. One had been a drawing of a man with a beard. There had been something familiar about him. What had his name been? Joshua … Josiah … Hawkins?

He heard Stephen swearing at a bunch of jostling people when they set off again. Opening his eyes he gazed out of the window, in time to see a mounted man going in the opposite direction … Basil Cheeves? The banker’s son gave the carriage a cursory glance, and then he scowled when he saw Zachariah at the window.

He glanced towards the horse and rider on his far side and said something to the man, who had a country hat shading his face. There was something about him that also seemed slightly familiar … the nose perhaps?

Then they surged forward and were past. The traffic had thinned down considerably and Zachariah heaved a sigh of relief. They would catch up with John and Julia at the Lyndhurst inn.

Dragged from his reverie, Zachariah laughed and said, ‘Thank goodness the traffic has eased off. You know, Evan, you can stop the servant and master act now we’re alone.’

Evan sighed. ‘I’ve known you for a long time, sir, and it’s easier to play the servant than switch roles all the time. I’m not going to be your man forever. Soon I’ll have enough money to form my own company of players.’

‘You know I’ll be happy to advance you the money.’

Evan leaned back in his seat. ‘I know you would, but you have enough people dipping into your purse.’

Zachariah shrugged. ‘I enjoy the challenge of finance as much as you enjoy the challenge of play-acting.’

‘You don’t look as though you’re enjoying life at the moment, sir. If you don’t mind me saying, you look like a man who has taken a fond farewell from his lady love.’

‘Then you know a kiss is never enough. Unfortunately, there are lines that a gentleman mustn’t cross, not even in his own home, unless he wants to compromise himself. One of those lines tells him not to gossip about his conquests, however small – if he is lucky enough to make one.’

‘That would never do.’

‘Indeed it would not. Now, tell me … what did you do to Miss Tate to send her scuttling off without saying a tearful thank-you and goodbye to her host.’

Evan examined his fingernails for a moment, then looked up at him and grinned. ‘As you indicated, a gentleman never tells. Let me just say the lady got a little less than she needed, but more than she deserved, and she left here still intact but with more awareness. She had pretty breasts, didn’t she?’

Clementine came instantly to Zachariah’s mind … although really she hadn’t ever left it. ‘Ah yes … small but neat and firm, with a delightful upward tilt – a delectable handful I should imagine.’ He collected his thoughts together. ‘Actually, I don’t think I noticed them.’

‘So it seems,’ Evan said drily. ‘I thought Miss Tate was a little more voluptuous than you described though.’ Evan described her figure in the air with his hands. ‘You did understand who I was referring to, didn’t you?’

Zachariah raised an eyebrow. ‘Of course I did. I’d throw you out of the carriage and bounce you on your arse if I thought you’d refer to Clementine in such a personal matter.’

‘So who were
you
describing?’

‘Hush now, Evan; there’s something bothering me that I can’t quite put my finger on.’

‘That must be frustrating.’ Evan chuckled. Taking out a deck of cards he expertly shuffled them and then began to play patience, using the seat beside him as a table. ‘You’re terrible at card games, Zach. How did you manage to win that money from Cheeves?’

‘I cheated. The cards were Gabe’s, and I remember he’d told me he’d marked them.’

‘That’s what I thought. I threw them in the fire, just in case it was questioned.’

Zachariah closed his eyes, and leaning back into the corner he allowed his mind to drift.

The answer caught up with him as they pulled into the stable yard.

He waited until they were settled down with a tankard of ale, and then said to John, ‘I thought I saw George Sheridan riding with Basil Cheeves in Poole. I was hoping he’d left town.’

‘Perhaps it wasn’t him, just someone who looked like him.’

‘That could be true, John, but I feel uneasy.’ Nevertheless he ignored his instincts because he had nothing solid to attach them to.

At dinner that evening, they were enjoying the inn’s roast beef and dripping pudding when Zachariah found himself gazing at the same wanted poster that had been pinned to the board in his land agent’s office. Up close it was a crude, badly printed image of a man with a beard. His uneasiness came back.

Wanted: Dead or Alive. Jonas Hawkins is charged with four counts of murder in the Australian colony, and the kidnapping of two children. Now believed to be in England. The escaped convict is regarded as highly dangerous and has been sighted in Dorchester, Portsmouth and London.
A reward is offered for information leading to his capture.

Zachariah poked Evan in the side. ‘You know something about theatre disguise. What do you make of that wanted sheet – does it remind you of someone?’

‘The beard looks false and that moustache is typical for saloon-bar dastardly villains.’ Evan made a corner between his forefinger and his thumb and placed it where the chin would be situated under the beard.

‘I’ll be damned … he looks like George Sheridan,’ John said.

Julia placed her hand against her chest and her eyes widened. ‘Oh my goodness. Clementine and the children are alone.’

‘Hardly; they have Mr Bolton and Ben looking after them. Besides, why should Clementine and the children be involved?’ John didn’t sound convinced about that though. ‘The more I look at the poster the more he reminds me of George Sheridan. It is him!’

A sense of doom settled darkly in Zachariah’s midriff as things began to fall into place. Could this Jonas Hawkins be the same Jonas portrayed in Edward’s book? There had been four adults in his picture book – one with red hair. Sheridan’s wife, or the woman who’d stepped on the ship, had dark brown hair.

Zachariah allowed his mind to wander. What if the Sheridans had been killed along with Gabe and Alice? Jonas Hawkins would only need to change his name and hire a woman to look after them until they reached England. Thank goodness the children had survived.

But Edward and Iris were the only two people who would be able to identify Jonas Hawkins as the man who’d killed their father and mother.

Alarm bells began to ring. ‘There are too many coincidences, and something is wrong here. I’m going to return to Martingale House,’ he said.

John said, ‘We’ll all go back, but I can’t leave Julia here by herself.’

‘I’m coming with you, since Clementine and the children might need me.’

‘There is a woman on the outskirts of the village who will give you shelter, Julia. I imagine Mrs Mason will be happy to offer her hospitality until we’re sure it’s safe.’

‘We’d better hurry then, else it will be dark before we get there.’

John stood. ‘I’ll instruct the ostler to get the horses rigged.’

Pushed by a sense of urgency they didn’t spare the horses in the first half of the journey, and they changed to fresh horses when they reached Poole, leaving their own to recover at the coaching inn.

They made their way carefully, taking the inland road since the heath was a dangerous path to take at night, with its bogs and quarries, and could quite easily cause a horse to break its leg or tip a man into its mire. They were not far past Wareham when they came over a rise and saw a red glow in the sky.

‘There’s a fire, and it looks as though it’s on my land. I hope it’s not the house.’ Fear leapt into Zachariah’s heart as he thought of Clementine and the children.

‘I’m going straight to the house,’ he said.

Clementine didn’t know how long she’d been asleep, but she woke with a start.

Now Zachariah and his friends had departed the house had a hollow feeling to it that she’d have to get used to all over again … and again, and again, no doubt.

She could hear the clock ticking in the hall. It sounded loud tonight, as though it had an echo to it. When the spring made a whirring sound and struck twice she jumped, and her heart picked up speed.

Something was different. Sliding from the warm nest of her bed she pulled on her robe. Shadows danced on the wall, the light between tinted with different shades of red.

Like flames! There was a faint whiff of smoke in the air, or was it her imagination? She crept on to the landing and gazed down into the darkness of the hall below. The candle lantern on the stair was still alight, but sputtering; everything seemed to be as it should in the house.

Beneath her she heard a scuffing noise. She stared into the darkness, hearing every beat of her heart and unable to decide whether the noise had been inside, or out in the porch.

Suddenly a fist pounded against the door panel.

Clementine’s heart nearly stopped and she shouted down the stairwell: ‘Mr Bolton … Ben … wake up.’

The dogs hurtled downstairs from the nursery wing and began to make runs at the door, scrabbling to get out and see the strangers off. They barked furiously.

Eyes wide, Edward and Iris joined her. ‘What is it, Clemmie? What’s happening?’

‘I’m not sure.’

Mr Bolton came from the servants’ quarters, pulling on his coat. Ben was on his tail, lighting the way with a lantern.

Heart in her mouth she heard him say, ‘Who is it?’

They heard a mumbled voice. ‘It’s Basil Cheeves. Open up. I was on my way home when I saw the barn in the farm meadow was on fire.’

It didn’t sound much like Basil Cheeves, but his voice was slurred as though he’d been drinking.

His face was in shadow when the door was opened. Sensing a romp the dogs sniffed his ankles, gave him a cursory growl, and then when Ben growled an order to them they wagged their tails and pushed past him, scenting the doorpost as they went out. They sniffed the air, then turned towards the barn and followed the scent of smoke, starting to bark when the noise from the fire was borne to them on the breeze.

Mr Bolton said urgently, ‘Ben, go and rouse the men from the village. Tell them to meet me in the coach house. If there are enough of us we might be able to make a bucket line down to the stream and save the building, or at least some of the contents.’

Polly joined them on the landing. ‘I’ll come down and lock the front door. I’ll leave the kitchen door open so you can get in when it’s over and I’ll rouse the house staff in case they’re needed and make a kettle of tea. It’s thirsty work, fighting fires.’

Mr Bolton headed for the kitchen and Polly headed down the stairs.

The man stayed in the doorway. There was a red glow beyond the trees, and the whiff of smoke in the air.

Clementine drew back in the shadows when he seemed to look directly at them from under the brim of his hat. His head moved from side to side and he almost sniffed the air, like a wild animal seeking out its prey.

She drew the children back further into the shadows.
He didn’t look like Basil Cheeves!
Though in this dim light it could have been him, since she was looking down on the figure, she conceded.

A sudden breeze blew out the flame on the guttering candle.

Beside her, Edward stiffened with fear. ‘Jonas has come for us; we’ve got to hide,’ he said, his voice a low and painful rasp.

Iris gave a little sob and buried her head against Clementine’s thigh.

Despite her instinct to call Polly back up to them, Clementine knew she was too late to do anything to change her course.

Firmly, the maid said, ‘If you wouldn’t mind, Mr Cheeves, would you go to the coach house if you intend to help fight the fire.’

Clementine breathed a sigh of relief when the man turned away and left. Polly turned the key in the lock behind him with a satisfying clunk. She chided herself for being silly. Of course it was Basil Cheeves – who else would it be? There was no reason why someone should pretend to be him.

Polly said before heading to the door, ‘I’ll go and rouse Mrs Ogden and the cook, if they’re not already up and about. You and the children try and get some more sleep, Miss Clemmie. I’ll lock the dogs in the laundry room when they come back, so they don’t get underfoot. I’ll call you if you’re needed.’

Edward tugged urgently at her hand. ‘Hide … hide?’

The hair on her arms and the nape of her neck stood up. ‘It’s all right, Edward. The man’s gone.’

‘Jonas.’

Iris had begun to shiver.

She must get the children back to bed and settle them down. ‘Come on back to the nursery where it’s warm. I’ll tuck you both in bed and then fetch you some warm milk.’

‘Don’t leave us!’ Edward said, and using both hands he began to pull her by the arm in the opposite direction. ‘
Hide … Jonas … don’t talk!
’