Sea Mistress (34 page)

Ellie looked at her levelly. ‘I hope we can. I must admit that I behaved like a fool too, going down near the docklands quite unprepared. Jubilee took me to task over it, told me I should have taken one of the men from the tannery with me but I wanted to show my independence.'

‘It's all water under the bridge now,' Bridie said, ‘let's both forget it ever happened.' She held out her hand and Ellie took it, shaking it firmly.

‘Let's pray that nothing goes wrong,' Bridie said and Ellie bit her lip before replying. ‘I'm wondering if it's wise for you to go Ireland alone.'

Bridie looked out into the garden to where Collins was leaning, in the process of locking the coal house door. He straightened, looking up at the darkening sky, the strong column of his neck exposed in spite of the cold weather.

‘Don't worry,' she said softly, ‘I won't be alone.'

Paul looked at the faces of the two men sitting opposite him in the smoky bar of the Burrows Inn. A raucous laugh from across the room broke the brooding silence that sometimes falls on a crowded room and instantly, as though at a signal, a buzz of voices started up again.

‘What do you think is going on?' Paul asked, leaning back in his chair.

Matthew Hewson placed his tankard of ale on the table in front of him and shook back his fall of dark hair. ‘I'm not sure but she's definitely up to no good. You just ask Smithers he'll tell you.'

The third man at the table leaned forward, his pugnacious face somehow threatening. ‘Had some collars made up in a place outside of town, it's all very suspicious if you ask me. Worth a few quid to you to know that, isn't it, Mr Marchant?'

‘Look, Smithers,' Paul said hiding his irritation, ‘I appreciate that you came to tell us about this new load of tack but it doesn't really have any significance, does it? Perhaps some other customer wanted tack, plenty of people have stables full of horses, it's nothing unusual.'

‘Well, I think it's worth something that I'm keeping an eye on things for you.' Smithers was surly now, sensing defeat.

‘I don't think you really have any further business here, do you?' Paul said coldly.

‘Oh, I'm not got rid of that easily.' Smithers' eyes were narrowed.

Paul regarded him carefully for a moment and then deliberately turned his attention once more to Matthew. ‘I suggest you keep an eye on things and when you have something of real importance to tell me then I'll think about paying you.'

Paul rose to his feet, he'd had enough of the smoky bar and of the two ruffians who sat opposite him. He didn't trust them, not one inch, they would need watching, closely. He dropped some coins onto the table and nodded his goodbyes and then he was outside on the cold, frosty street. He breathed deeply, damn Smithers and damn Matthew Hewson, they had spoiled what had promised to be a good day for him, a day spent alone with Carmella.

When he reached home it was to find his wife sitting in the drawing room waiting for him. His stomach lurched unpleasantly, the last person he wished to see was Bridie. She had doubtless come to make a scene.

‘How did you get here and what do you want?' Paul said edgily, he'd had enough aggravation for one day.

‘I am not here to make trouble, I just need to ask you a favour,' Bridie said evenly. ‘My cousin is adding buildings to his house and I feel I might be getting in Jono's way. I thought to take a trip over to Ireland. I'd like to sail tomorrow on the
Marie Clare
.'

Paul looked at her carefully, ‘Are you serious?'

Bridie nodded. ‘I think I'd like to go down to Kinsale for a day or two, have some fresh air, a change of scene, blow away the cobwebs, is that too much to ask?'

There was more to it than that, much more, but what did it mean? He was silent for a moment aware that Bridie was watching him carefully. ‘What about yout state of health, how would you manage aboard ship with your disability?'

‘I'll take Collins with me, of course,' Bridie said as if that settled the matter. Paul considered the problem; if he refused to take her, Bridie might realize he had something to hide, she might even have her suspicions already that his cargo was not all it should be, she was many things but she was not stupid. He did not want her going to the authorities and causing trouble for him.

‘Very well, if that's what you want.' Let her go, he reasoned, the cargo would be safely aboard by then, what harm could she do? She would not be able to get into the hold to examine the cargo. Even if she persuaded someone else to do the deed for her, they would find only horse-collars and patent fuel blocks, goods he had carried to Ireland many times before.

He moved to Bridie's side and took her hand in his, ‘No-one can say I'm not a generous man.' He saw Bridie's face redden and he smiled in satisfaction, his barb had struck home, they both knew that Paul could afford to be generous now that he held her fortune in his own hands. Serve her right for pestering him.

The landlord was lighting the lamps in the Burrows Inn, the room was fuller now and smokier than it had been earlier. Matthew Hewson leaned back in his chair, a feeling of triumph curving his lips into a smile. ‘I think just a few of the packets of opium will make us a nice little profit, why don't we help ourselves to them while we have a chance?'

‘I don't think Marchant is the sort of man you can double-cross and get away with it,' Smithers said doubtfully and Matthew began to feel irritated with him.

‘If you don't want to take any risks then get out now,' he said aggressively, sizing Smithers up with a practised eye. The man was not tall but he was strong enough, his biceps bulging beneath his flannel shirt. But he was short on brains, he could be outmanoeuvred with no trouble.

‘No need to talk like that,' Smithers said backing down at once, ‘I'll go along with whatever you say.'

‘That's better.' Matthew relaxed, people were so easy to handle when a man knew what he was about. ‘Let's have another tankard of ale, the night is young, I need to find myself a woman.'

Smithers looked him over, ‘I know a place, lovely doxies, do anything for me. Take care of them I do, if there's bother with a customer.'

‘I'm not paying for any woman,' Matthew said bluntly, ‘they can nail me in my coffin when I can't get up a skirt without offering money.'

‘No need to pay, I'm always welcome to take my pick of the girls, any sort of girl I like, Chinese, Indian, African, they're all bit of a change from the pale girls you get round the docks.'

‘Why not?' Matthew said looking round at the pipe-smoking men in greasy caps, at the sawdust-covered floor and the beer-soaked tables. All at once he felt he would enjoy a woman who didn't demur, didn't pretend to be virtuous but allowed a man to take freely of his pleasures.

Smithers rose to his feet, ‘What if Marchant finds out we've taken some of his precious opium?'

‘I'm more than a match for Paul Marchant,' Matthew said, ‘don't you worry about that.'

The bawdy house was brighter than Matthew had expected, clean with drapes that were rich, if faded, and furniture that was cared for and polished. It was a good sign.

‘Evening, Mrs Preece Williams.' Smithers addressed the woman, who sat in the opulent chair that resembled something like a royal throne, with obvious respect. She inclined her head regally and Matthew saw that once she had been very beautiful.

‘Good to see you so early, Mr Smithers, I do not theenk there will be trouble tonight, no many boats come into the docks this week so trade is, what you might say, slow.'

Was she really a foreigner, Matthew wondered, or as her name implied was she as firmly rooted in Wales as he was?

She snapped her fingers and a young girl came out of the shadows carrying a tray containing a crystal decanter and some balloon shaped glasses. ‘Brandy for the gentlemen, Seranne.' The girl was quick to obey, she was dark and with the colouring of a country girl and her eyes slanted towards Matthew with approval.

Mrs Preece Williams saw the look and tapped the girl lightly on her bare arm. ‘Patience, Seranne, let the man have his dreenk. In any case, our visitor might like to peruse our other girls before he makes his choice, might you not Mr . . . ?'

‘Mat,' Matthew said quickly, he was somewhat suspicious, not willing to give his full name and the woman smiled.

‘Mat it shall be. More brandy for Mat, Seranne, and you Mr Smithers, a whisky and an hour with little Sal Huang as usual, is it?'

Smithers, with a quick glance at her, nodded but Matthew was looking at Seranne who was bending before him, her sweet, full breasts rising seductively above her bodice.

‘I think Seranne will suit me just fine,' he said, liking her scent, her provocative way of looking at him, everything about her. She was seductive, knowing and completely undemanding and for the moment that was just what he needed.

‘Show Mat to the best room, Seranne, and look after him. Take the rest of the brandy with you.'

Mat glanced back at Smithers but the man was disappearing through a doorway obviously anxious to get on with the matter in hand. Seranne led the way up the carpeted stairs and along the corridor to a small but elegant room. ‘Make yourself comfortable, Mat,' she poured him another drink and he sipped it, realizing that it was good, strong stuff.

‘Not too much of that or you'll find me a disappointment,' he said pulling her to him. She responded at once and he sighed in satisfaction, this was the life, take a woman when you wanted her and then leave her. This was merely a dalliance, a chance encounter, a little bit of spice to his boring existence.

Seranne was everything he could have wished for, she did not push him, or appear too eager, she waited on him like a handmaiden, doing anything he bade her with swift sureness that excited him. He did not care that she had practiced her art with other men, many other men, indeed the thought lent a piquancy to the event as if it were not quite real.

At last, he lay beside her sated and as if by magic, a drink was presented to him. ‘Well, why not?' he said aloud, he was beholden to no-one, he might just as well make a night of it.

‘Another few drinks,' Seranne said persuasively, ‘will give you back your strength. You are a wonderful lover, Mat, the best man I've ever had.'

He believed her and feeling good, he drank deeply from the glass. When Matthew opened his eyes, it was daylight, he turned his aching head and saw that he was alone in the large bed, Seranne had vanished. He rose and his ablutions were perfunctory, the water in the jug was cold as he splashed it into the basin careless of the drops falling onto the pale marble of the washstand. The door opened and Smithers entered the room, a big mug of steaming tea grasped in his hand.

‘Good night?' he asked and Mat nodded, feeling none too pleased that the other man seemed clear-headed, none the worse for his night of carousing.

‘Good enough,' Matthew said flatly. ‘Isn't it about time you were getting back to work, don't want your boss suspecting anything.'

‘No, that would never do,' Smithers agreed readily. ‘But it's only just gone five, I start work at six. Perks of being in charge, the other men are hard at it by the time I get to the tannery.'

Matthew sniffed, ‘You don't need to tell me, I worked at Glyn Hir for years, remember?'

Smithers ignored Matthew's ill temper. ‘There's a good, cooked breakfast waiting down in the kitchen when you're ready.' Smithers backed towards the door. ‘When is the
Marie Clare
sailing for Ireland?'

‘Today,' Matthew said briefly and brushed his thick, dark hair wishing the other man would go away and leave him in peace.

‘So when do we make our move?' Smithers persisted. Matthew turned to him, his face hard. ‘When I tell you,' he said. ‘Now get the hell out of here.'

The door closed and Matthew stared at it for a long moment. In only a day or two, he would be able to quit the sea, he would have a little nest egg all of his own. Then to hell with everyone, Paul Marchant, the odious Smithers and most of all Ellie Hopkins who had been the one who had got him in this situation in the first place, dismissing him as if he was a nobody.

He left the room and walked down the carpeted stairs feeling a great deal better than he had when he'd woken up. Soon, he would be able to afford a fine house of his own, he would be looked up to, he would have money in his pocket and then the whole town of Swansea could look out.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

‘I've missed you so much, Daniel, and I'm so glad you could come home for the weekend.' They were walking side by side in the garden at the back of Glyn Hir, as far away from the smell of the tannery as they could get. The air was cold, crisp, with a light fall of snow covering the ground but Ellie felt warm as she looked up at Daniel. She felt her heart lift, in his dark suit covered by his big topcoat, he looked so handsome with a powdering of snow in his hair. ‘What's the bishop of St David's like, have you come to know him any better?'

Daniel shook his head. ‘He's so far above me in all sorts of ways, I'm half frightened to speak to him. I obviously don't appear as stupid as I feel because he seems to think I'm a suitable candidate for a career in the church.' Daniel took her gloved hand and hugged it close to his side. ‘I think it's going to work out all right, I'm determined to make a success of it.' He paused. ‘I won't be very well off, though, Ellie. I won't have much to offer you but when I've finished at Lampeter college, I'll be ordained, I'll be appointed curate, probably to some fairly small parish. Will you come with me, Ellie, where ever I go?'