Sea Mistress (27 page)

‘The leather I buy from you, is ideal for horse-collars, saddles, that sort of thing, it's so well treated.' He was sincere enough; Jubilee had always prided himself on quality. ‘I ship the goods abroad to a customer of mine in Ireland.' Paul smiled. ‘It's not a big order for me, as I'm sure you appreciate, but the goodwill of a business is so important.'

It was a reproof and Ellie recognized it as such. Paul smiled again as if to soften his words. ‘I needn't remind you of that, of course. Later on, I'm hoping to increase the stock of leather I buy from you to a much bigger quantity.'

‘I see.' Ellie didn't much care, one way or another, she would rather have as little as possible to do with Paul Marchant and his fiery wife.

It was as though he read her thoughts. ‘I'm sorry for the way my wife acted that time,' he said quietly. ‘I'm sure she would have apologized to you herself but she hasn't been well lately, indeed, she is a complete invalid these days, confined to a chair.'

Ellie had heard a little of Bridie's illness from Martha who seemed to pick up all the gossip being spread around the town but she hadn't realized how serious it was. ‘I'm sorry to hear that. I don't suppose there is anything I can do to help?'

‘That's very kind of you, especially in the circumstances, but no, I'm managing everything just fine, thank you.'

Ellie forbore to ask how his wife was managing; Bridie Marchant was not the most patient of women, it couldn't be easy for her to be dependent on other people. Paul rose to his feet and smiled down at Ellie as though entirely sure he could charm her. She looked at him without expression. ‘Please feel free to choose any of the skins you want,' she said as pleasantly as she could, ‘though we have no inferior goods on sale, I do assure you of that.'

‘I am aware of the quality of your leather,' he replied, ‘as I said, it is of the best, that's why I have returned to buy more.'

Ellie wished he would go and leave her alone, she really must get a good manager in, someone who would take the responsibility of running the tannery without her help. She moved impatiently towards the door, she was expecting Daniel and she wanted time to prepare herself. Her spirits lifted at the thought. All she had to do was to be patient and soon she would be with the man who had come to mean more than all the world to her.

‘You can't mean it,' Arian Smale was looking at Daniel in disbelief and though he was flattered by her reluctance to accept his decision, he was not one bit influenced by it.

‘I am grateful for my training here,' he said humbly, ‘I've learned such a lot, things I should be able to put into use when I have a parish of my own.'

‘You really mean to go into the church then?' Arian shook her head. ‘I knew you were impressed by Evan Roberts, I just didn't realize how impressed.'

‘I hope you've thought this over,' Mac was leaning across his desk, his long legs looped around his chair. ‘Not much money in being a vicar, you know.'

‘I don't mind that,' Daniel answered good naturedly, ‘I'm not out to make myself a rich man. In any case, I've spoken to the bishop and he feels I will do very well in the church. So you see, it's all settled.'

‘Doesn't have to be, keep on the job for a while, it wouldn't hurt to have a bit of cash by you, especially a young sprig like you who might want to get hitched one day.'

Daniel looked at Mac with affection. ‘I won't be in a position to get married for a long time yet.'

‘Not until Ellie Hopkins' year of mourning is over, at least.' Arian said.

Daniel felt his colour rise. ‘I would be very honoured to marry Mrs Hopkins but I will respect her wish to give her husband's memory the respect it deserves.' He knew he sounded pompous but he couldn't seem to help it.

To their credit, neither Arian nor Mac mentioned Jubilee's will and the great fortune he had left his widow. They knew Daniel better than to believe him a gold-digger.

‘I'll work out the month's notice if that's suitable,' Daniel said, ‘I don't have to go to college until the beginning of the next term.'

Arian smiled. ‘As Mac said, why not keep on your job 'til then?' It really was generous of her, she could have begun looking for a junior reporter at once.

‘I would be delighted to stay as long as I may,' Daniel smiled warmly. ‘At the risk of sounding sentimental, I feel I belong here.'

‘Right then, I have an assignment for you,' Arian said. ‘I've heard a rumour, just a rumour, that Paul Marchant has somehow taken charge of his wife's shipping fleet, apparently she is left with no assets to her name at all. See what you can dig up about it, Daniel.'

This was part of the job he didn't like; the snooping, the prying into the private affairs of others but it was all in a day's work in the life of a junior reporter and for now, he was still in Arian's employ.

‘I don't know how you'll go about it,' Arian continued, ‘you can hardly go and ask Paul or Bridie Marchant outright, can you?'

‘Leave that to Daniel,' advised Mac, ‘any reporter worth his salt knows how to winkle stories out of unsuspecting folk.'

It was easier said than done, Daniel mused as, later, he walked along the Strand. He knew his starting point, the shipping office in Gloucester Place, but how to make enquiries without seeming too inquisitive. Daniel knew he could write the stories well enough, it was the ferreting out of information he was no good at. Perhaps it was just as well he'd chosen to go into the church, there people would confide in him only so much as they wanted him to know.

Brian Thomas was uncommunicative. He sat in the offices of Marchant and James and stared stoically at a point somewhere above Daniel's head. ‘I don't know what information you are seeking,' he said pompously, ‘but remember, I only work here, if you want to know anything you must speak to the owner.'

‘I thought there were
owners,
plural,' Daniel said quickly. ‘But then,' Daniel continued, ‘I don't suppose you would know, not being in the confidence of the owners.' Daniel tried playing on the man's sense of importance; Thomas was obviously puffed up with pride.

‘Mr Marchant is the sole owner these days,' Thomas fell into the trap and then immediately regretted his words. ‘I'm saying no more.' Daniel left the office knowing he would have to search elsewhere for his copy though it did seem as if Arian's sense of a story was working as well as ever.

Daniel walked up the hill to where the big houses sat in woody gardens. Sea Mistress, the house owned by Paul and Bridie Marchant was set back from the roadway, the elegant gables reaching fingers skyward, the windows gleaming brightly against the old stonework.

Perhaps, Daniel thought, he could talk to one of the servants, there seemed no other line of enquiry open to him. He paused by the imposing front entrance, the old wood of the double doors, lovingly polished, opened up a way into a marbled outer hall. He would gain no entrance there. Daniel made his way round the large structure to the back. The gardens stretched away into the distance, trees and shrubs offering privacy to the neat walkways and pretty arbours. Stone statues were placed among the trees to charming effect and Daniel stood for a moment appreciating the scene before him.

‘Can I help you?' A voice broke into Daniel's reverie and he turned to see a man a little older than he himself watching him with suspicion. This was one of the male servants, a man of position in the household and he was looking Daniel over with a practised eye, correctly assessing his status in the place of things and speaking respectfully.

‘Excuse me,' Daniel smiled disarmingly, ‘I'm afraid I'm trespassing.'

‘Do you have any business here?' the man was cautious, overly polite and yet with a distinct air of one who would guard the privacy of the residents of the house with force if necessary.

‘I'm afraid I am snooping,' Daniel liked the look of the man and decided he might as well be honest. ‘My boss, Arian Smale, asked me to look into the rumour that Mrs Marchant has signed the business over to her husband.'

The man appeared startled. ‘How in heaven's name . . .' he broke off and ran his hand over his brow. ‘Wait here.'

Daniel stood in the garden wondering what on earth was going on behind the solid walls of the big house. Women, in the past had fought hard to retain control of their inheritance and now, Bridie Marchant, a woman renowned for her toughness in business was handing everything over to her husband on a plate, it was incredible. A sense of excitement filled Daniel, Arian could well be right, there could be more than a gossipy item here, there could be a big story.

The man reappeared. ‘Come with me,' he led the way inside the house, through the dark corridors and out into the elegant front hallway. ‘Mrs Marchant is in the blue drawing room, she'll see you right away.'

He opened the door and admitted Daniel into the sumptuous deeply carpeted room. Bridie Marchant was seated in a chair fitted with wheels, she looked well enough, Daniel thought flipping open his notebook.

‘Thank you, Collins,' Bridie smiled and inclined her head and the servant withdrew, closing the door quietly behind him.

‘So,' Bridie said, ‘you have heard rumours then?'

‘Well, yes,' Daniel was taken aback by her outspokenness. He'd had little contact with Mrs Marchant previously but what he did know of her warned him she could be a dragon lady.

‘Sit down,' Bridie said and Daniel obediently sat. ‘So you've come to ask me if it's true?' Bridie said baldly.

‘Yes. I suppose it's forward of me but if
The Times
doesn't run the story some other paper will and at least I'll handle it sympathetically and fairly.'

Bridie was lost in thought for a moment. ‘Very well, then let's say that because of my indisposition I have given my husband free rein with the shipping business.'

‘But it wouldn't be exactly the truth?' Daniel said shrewdly.

‘The truth is that my husband took advantage of my illness to trick me into signing my business over to him. What's more, I believe he is doing something illegal, I found his notebook, saw that he'd been shipping cargos that weren't all they appeared to be. No-one would believe it, of course.' She looked at Daniel with large, tear-filled eyes and Daniel, instinctively, made a move towards her and then hesitated.

‘I'm so sorry.' The words were out before he could prevent them. He must learn to curb his tongue, he needed to be objective, not only in his role as reporter but if he ever achieved his ambition in the church he'd need to be restrained.

‘You can tell Arian Smale what I've said but she can't use it, not without evidence.' Bridie looked up at him. ‘I know you must think me a bad wife, talking to you like this, but Paul has left me penniless.'

‘Don't worry, I won't betray your confidence,' Daniel said. ‘But what are you going to do?' It was beyond understanding that a man could rob his wife of all she possessed, he thought angrily.

‘I won't let the matter rest here, I'll recover my inheritance one day then Paul can look out.'

Daniel snapped his notebook shut and bowed slightly. ‘Until such a time, I'll leave you in peace.'

‘Thank you for your concern and please give Miss Smale my regards when you see her.' Bridie Marchant was once more in control, her head high, her expression bland.

Daniel left her and walked back to town pondering on the ways of men. Paul Marchant had married Bridie when he had nothing but a small shipping fleet to his name. Well now he was rich enough but ill-gotten gains did no-one any good in the long run. For a moment he felt downhearted, it was a sad story, a sick woman betrayed by the man she loved. As for the hint that Marchant was dealing in contraband, it was all rather too far-fetched to be believed. He would tell Arian all he knew just as Mrs Marchant had suggested and then it was up to his boss to make of it what she would.

His spirits lifted, tonight he would see Ellie, he would be near her, would breathe in her perfume and one day, he would take great joy in making Ellie his wife.

Ellie looked across the room to where Daniel was seated and found it difficult to hide the pleasure in her eyes. In the corner Martha was busily sewing, bent towards the lamplight, her back to the room, Martha was the perfect chaperon, present and yet self-effacing.

‘So you've found a new manager.' Daniel was leaning forward eagerly in his chair, wanting to be as near to Ellie as he could. ‘Thank goodness for that, I've been worried in case Matthew decided to come back and cause trouble.'

‘I'm as surprised as you are that he's gone so quietly,' Ellie said. ‘I suppose he'll turn up again like a bad penny.'

‘Not for a while he won't,' Martha spoke without turning her head. ‘He's gone to be a sailor with one of the Marchants' ships, the
Marie Clare
or some such outlandish sounding name.'

Ellie's heart lifted. ‘How do you know that, Martha?' she asked in surprise.

‘Well Rosie told me, of course, there's not much passes her by where that man is concerned, still in love with him she is in spite of everything, if you ask me.'

‘I thought you and Rosie didn't get on,' Ellie said, hiding a smile.

‘We don't, well not particularly, but then the girl has to talk to someone and I'm here so I suppose I serve the purpose.'

‘Well, I never thought Matthew was one to take to the sea.' Ellie mused, ‘I wonder what on earth induced him to become a sailor.'

‘A fat purse, I suppose,' Martha said flatly and bent her head over her sewing once more, her shoulders hunched, indicating that the conversation was over.