Different Tides (7 page)

Zachariah arrived home an hour later and Clementine went downstairs to intercept him. He’d just placed his hat and gloves on the hall table.

‘My apologies for being late. My business with the Sheridans turned out to be more complicated than I expected. You look serious. Are there problems with the children already?’

‘Several. The biggest one is that they haven’t been told their parents are dead, and expected them to be here waiting for them.’

‘I see … Did you enlighten them?’

‘I thought that particular duty should be yours, since you are their guardian.’

The sigh he heaved was heavy. ‘Yes … of course it should be. I hadn’t considered that they might be unaware of the circumstances.’

‘Also, I believe they’ve been badly treated. Edward, in particular, is too frightened to speak. Iris is the more confident of the two.’ She described Edward’s reaction, and recounted what Iris had said. ‘Edward believes Mr Sheridan will come in the night and cut off his tongue and eat it if he talks – so he no longer talks, though he tried.’

Zachariah sucked in a breath and his hands curled into loose fists.

‘Now who feels like starting a brawl?’ she said softly.

‘You’re right. The children are young and impressionable and they need someone to protect them. What else, Clementine? I can see you’re not done.’

‘The third problem is that both children seem to be suffering from an infectious disease. From the nature of the blisters I think it could be chicken pox rather than smallpox, and a mild dose at that. The symptoms are not too severe, but it’s best to make sure so I’ve sent for the doctor to come and examine them. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Not at all; you must do what you think is in their best interest. Mr Bolton will take care of the accounts on my behalf. We shall also consult with the doctor about Edward’s lack of response. It may be that he just needs to grow used to us. I will speak to the children about their parents afterwards. They’ll be upset, I imagine.’

‘Yes … but small children are resilient, and they adjust to their situation fairly quickly. Whether they live in poverty or luxury, and especially when they’re sad, they’re needful of any kindness and affection that’s offered to them, even if they don’t respond as well as you expect them to.’

‘That’s something we’ve lacked in our own childhoods, so we should be experts in knowing what to provide. We shall have to make sure they have plenty of both. I’ll be kind to them and you can supply the affection.’ For a moment Zachariah’s eyes gazed into the distance, his vulnerability all too apparent as if he was trying to recall what affection and kindness felt like. Then his gaze shortened and his eyes slid towards her. His voice was unsure, salted with his imagined inadequacy to carry out such a task. ‘I’m not used to children and I can’t promise to be perfect, but I’ll do my best.’

Clementine felt like hugging him, but doubted he would appreciate such a gesture from her.

The doctor endorsed what Clementine had suspected.

‘It’s chicken pox. Use a soothing lotion, and try to prevent them scratching the scabs off when they form, else they’ll be left with scars.

‘As for the other business … there’s nothing physically wrong with the boy’s tongue or mouth that I can see, and no reason why he shouldn’t talk in time. Give him plenty of activities to keep him occupied, both mental and physical. Encourage him by singing around him, and he may join in. Singing does wonders for children with speech impediments. I also advise you to keep to a routine. It will build him up and give him confidence.’

But first the children had to learn that they were orphans. And judging from Zachariah’s face he wasn’t looking forward to telling them. ‘I’ll fetch the picture of my brother and his wife and we’ll go up together,’ he said.

When they got to the nursery he propped the painting against the table with the back towards them and cleared his throat when the children gazed expectantly at him. ‘There’s something I must tell you, and I can’t express how sorry I am that it’s necessary. Your mother and father won’t be returning home again. They have lost their lives in an accident.’

Edward stared at him.

‘I thought I lost a doll once, but Edward had hidden it and I found it again,’ Iris said.

‘It’s not that sort of lost, Iris dear. Your parents are dead … I’m afraid.’

‘What does dead mean?’

Zachariah gazed an appeal at her.

‘They’ve gone to be angels in heaven,’ Clementine said.

‘Why can’t we go to heaven and be angels as well?’

‘Because you’ve got healthy bodies to live in.’ And before Iris’s curiosity prompted more questions, Clementine added, ‘We will all go to heaven one day.’

‘My body’s got itches. So has Edward’s.’

A quick glance showed Zachariah’s eyes filled with amusement, even though the situation should have been serious. He told them, ‘They’ll go away in time if you don’t scratch them. Now, listen carefully while I tell you what has been arranged. This house used to belong to your father, who was also my brother. You will live here and Miss Clementine will be in charge of you, with Polly helping her. I work in London and travel a lot, but I will visit here as often as I can to find out how you’re getting on. Do you understand all that?’

Edward nodded and Iris said, ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good … and because your father was my brother that means we are close kin, and you may both call me Uncle Zachariah. I’ve got a painting of your father and mother here. Would you like me to hang it on the nursery wall? That way you’ll see them every day while you’re growing up, and you won’t forget them.’

Iris gave a little cry when he turned the portrait around and her voice choked up, though she had a puzzled expression. ‘Is that our mama and papa? Mama is pretty with all those jewels on but Papa’s hair is funny and he looks stern. His eye looks odd.’

‘Your mama and papa were much younger when that was painted. It has a date on the back and it was painted before Edward was born.’

‘Perhaps he was wearing a wig when this was painted.’ Although the family resemblance wasn’t marked – in fact it was too slight to really signify – it was there. Clementine said, ‘You look a little like your mother, Iris.’

‘But they don’t look like our mama and papa, do they, Edward? I want my mama … I miss her,’ she said, sounding so miserable that tears pricked Clementine’s eyes. ‘That man said they’d be here waiting for us.’

Clementine remembered the ache of losing her own mother, and she’d been older than Iris. ‘I know, darling. Perhaps the artist wasn’t very good.’ She drew the girl into her arms and rocked her back and forth while she wept. After a little while Iris relaxed and Clementine knew she was asleep.

Edward had turned away from them and had pulled the covers over his head. Zachariah gently patted the boy’s back while he tried not to cry, but eventually he gave into it, releasing sniffs and sobs.

Pulling the covers back, Clementine stooped to kiss his wet cheek. ‘Try to be strong for Iris, my dear. You’re too young to lose your parents, but you have your uncle, and you have me and there’s Polly. It’s all right to cry, Edward. Will a hug help you feel a little better? That’s what your mother and father would have done, I expect.’

When the boy nodded and scrambled from under the covers it was Zachariah he hurled himself at.

For a moment Zachariah looked almost panic-stricken by the contact, then he placed his arms awkwardly around the boy and patted his back. ‘If I could bring your parents back to you I would. They loved you, Edward. You must always remember that.’

Clementine wondered when Zachariah had last hugged anybody, when he gave her an appealing look that stated he needed help. His expression quickly turned to exasperation when she ignored it and smiled at him.

Edward clung to him like a little monkey to its mother. Suddenly the boy gave a series of long, shuddering sobs.

‘Oh God,’ Zachariah whispered, but after a while his eyes closed and his fingers caressed the boy’s scalp through his silky hair.

‘It will be all right, Edward,’ he whispered. ‘I loved your father, too, and he sent me you both to be cared for. Now you must rest, so you’ll recover quickly from your illness. It’s been a long, busy day, and we have many things to do together before I return to London. One of them is a surprise, but it can wait for a week or so.’

Edward looked up at him and Clementine could see the question trembling on his lips. She held her breath, willing him to ask it, but he didn’t. Instead, he reached up and tentatively touched Zachariah’s face.

Zachariah smiled and gave him a final squeeze. ‘Into bed with you now. Polly will stay here with you.’

The children recovered rapidly from their illness and life took on some normality as they edged into a routine.

So her charges wouldn’t get bored, Clementine divided the day into sections. The mornings were spent doing easy lessons that consisted of drawing, or shaping their letters on a slate and repeating the sounds they made, for they were hardly out of infancy. Once they gained mastery of the chalk and slate she intended to progress to a pencil and she’d introduce other subjects. The afternoons were spent being more active, exploring the countryside and playing games. She told them a story each night before they slept.

Edward still didn’t speak, and he had bad dreams where he thrashed around and called out, but it was more noises than words. Sometimes he shouted out the name Jonas, and he’d wake, wide-eyed and trembling. Since Polly was a sound sleeper it often fell on Clementine to provide comfort for him. She’d hold his little body in her arms, rock him back and forth, and sing him a lullaby until he relaxed again.

On the last day of the children’s confinement it was as fine a morning as could be. The children were lively and couldn’t keep still. Who could blame them when the sun was shining outside and the countryside was begging to be explored. Zachariah came into the nursery in the middle of lessons. He was dressed for the outdoors and wore riding boots. ‘Good morning everyone.’

‘Good morning, Uncle Zachariah,’ Iris said, and Edward gave him a wide smile.

‘I think it’s time we picked up the children’s surprise, don’t you, Miss Clemmie?’

‘They’re supposed to be having lessons, and I’d be obliged if you’d stop calling me by that ridiculous name. The children are picking it up.’

He ignored her complaint. ‘Here’s a lesson for you.’ He picked up the chalk and wrote a word in large letters. ‘Can either of you tell me what that says?’

Iris puzzled over it, her forehead screwed up in concentration as she mouthed the letters. ‘It’s GOD!’ she shouted. ‘Are we going to church? I hope not. It smells like pepper there and it makes my nose itch until I sneeze.’

His mouth twitched. ‘Not until Sunday, I believe, and only then under duress, because Miss Clemmie insists it will be good for our souls. You almost got the word right, Iris. Clever girl.’

Iris gazed proudly at everyone at the compliment. Like all children she responded to praise.

Whether Zachariah knew it or not he didn’t have to try very hard to attract the affection of the children. They would miss him when he returned to London. She’d miss him as well, she thought, and gave a faintly surprised smile. Now, who would have thought that?

Edward gave a snort and the expression on his face was suddenly alert. He was almost quivering with excitement.

‘Edward knows what it is.’ Zachariah ruffled his hair. ‘I knew a mind reader in London and he taught me how to do it.’ Closing his eyes he placed a hand on Edward’s forehead. ‘Think of the word.’ After a few seconds he opened them again. ‘You’re thinking the surprise might be a dog.’

Edward vigorously nodded his head.

‘Well done, Edward. You’re right. Polly, fetch their capes and hats if you would.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘You can get yours on too, Miss Clemmie.’

She knew she was fighting a losing battle when she told him, ‘The doctor said they’re not out of quarantine until tomorrow.’

He placed a finger over her mouth with just enough pressure to form her lips into a kiss-shaped pout around it. His blue eyes gazed intently into hers and his voice was a quiet drawl. ‘I insist.’

If she parted her lips she’d be able to draw his finger inside and bite it.

He withdrew it with a smile, as if he’d truly read her mind, leaving her shocked by the blatant exposure of her own thoughts.

The carriage was waiting for them, the hood folded back so they could enjoy the day.

Twenty minutes later they stopped outside a cottage where the front garden was awash with summer-scented flowers and the air was thick with the frantic hum of bees around the roses, as they gathered the last of the pollens and carried it back to their hives. The side gardens were crammed full of vegetables.

The cottage stood in the middle of the village, and people came out to lean on their fences and gossip together when the carriage came to a halt. She imagined that most of the men living in the village worked for Zachariah.

A woman opened the door and bobbed a curtsy, her smile wide and welcoming. ‘Come in, Mr Fleet. You as well, Miss. I’ve been expecting you.’ Her eyes widened as her glance went to the children. This is never Master Edward, the young sir who belonged to Sir Gabriel?’

‘It certainly is, Mrs Mason.’

‘My goodness, he’s grown tall since I last set eyes on him, like a stick of rhubarb … though he was an infant then, and kicking up a stink as the reverend gave him his name. He’s grown, all right.’

‘Yes … well … he would have. This is his sister, Iris.’

‘You’re a pretty little miss, and called after a lovely flower with purple petals that grows at the edge of the pond. Though some be all golden, so when they come out together they look right royal.’

Edward had edged closer to Zachariah, while Iris smiled and said graciously, ‘Thank you, Mrs Mason.’

Zachariah allowed Clementine through with the children first, then he removed his hat and bowed his head to enter through the low doorway.

Inside, the spotless little cottage smelled deliciously of baking.

‘Will you take some refreshment before the children get acquainted with the pups? It doesn’t do to rush these things and they’re having a sleep.’