Different Tides Page 2

  ‘I see.’

  ‘You’re educated to a certain level. That’s all the better because the children will benefit – and so will you. You will find plenty to keep them occupied in the country, and there is a small town nearby. I will visit as often as possible.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘I’ve had very little experience with children. For five of my early years I was raised by a cleric who beat me on a regular basis, whether I deserved it or not, so we do have that background in common, Miss Morris. I was supposed to follow in his footsteps.’

  She tried not to laugh. ‘I don’t know why, but I cannot imagine you in a frock, standing comfortably in a pulpit spouting about the perils of sin.’

  ‘Then we have that in common as well, since neither can I. One thing I would like to say, and I’ll be blunt: if you stay here, in this city and under your present circumstances, we both know what the eventual outcome is likely to be, despite your shyness to admit that you’re unaware of such matters.’ He held out his hand. ‘Shall we shake on it, or would that be considered an advance by you?’

  His smile told her he was teasing now. His hand was warm and firm, his handshake brief, and he gave a little bow, as if she were a respected acquaintance instead of Clementine Morris, young woman with no means, no background she’d care to speak of – if she had one at all – and no prospects, except the one currently on offer.

  The beatings seemed to have had a beneficial effect on Zachariah Fleet because he was mannerly, and without being foppish, she reflected as he picked up his hat, cane and gloves. But then, he wanted his wards to have more than just a governess. He wanted them to have an older sister they could turn to in times of trouble. It was a big responsibility; bigger than Zachariah Fleet could imagine.

  Well … she could fill that role even though it might come at a price. Love was a commitment, and was hard to walk away from. Already, she felt the tug of the two motherless children in need, as if they were calling to her from afar like lost baby birds.

  God knew, there were hundreds of hungry orphans in the workhouses. Mr Fleet’s little chicks were lucky. They would never lack for anything material, and would be raised with all the love and care she could find in her. Then she would have to move on and her heart would probably break.

  She told herself she should say no, but even a small amount of love was better than none to a child – and what else could she do?

  ‘I’ll see you in a few days’ time then,’ he said.

  She nodded.

  As they walked through the crowds back to John Beck’s office suite, Zachariah said, ‘You know, John, I feel guilty about not telling her she may be a distant relative.’

  ‘Why get her hopes up when it might not be true. All you’ve got to go on is a rumour that someone called Howard Morris existed, and an annuity had been paid to a school for the orphaned children of army officers in his name, and on behalf of his daughter Clementine. You’ve always had a tidy mind, and that’s what comes of your need to set the family papers in order. It might be for a different person altogether.’

  Zachariah nodded in agreement.

  ‘How many females do you know called Clementine who have fathers named Howard Morris? She’s not on the family tree. She probably comes from the wrong side of the blanket and she’s not your responsibility.’

  ‘I remember the days when I wasn’t your responsibility. I remember standing in front of you and my ears shrivelling from the lecture you gave me. And later, when you’d turned me into a man and I thanked you, you told me to repay you by improving the life of somebody who needed it on my journey through life. That person is Clementine Morris. What say you to that, John Beck?’

  ‘That Julia and I did well at setting you straight.’

  ‘So why the reservations? Clementine Morris was probably overlooked. Nobody paid much attention to keeping the family records up to date. The girl we interviewed attended the named school until the money ran out. That’s no coincidence. Neither is the fact that her father was a distant relative of mine through my mother’s side.’

  ‘The blood connection is too distilled to signify.’

  ‘All the better since the girl is alone in the world and she has nobody but me to turn to. She’s already struggling to survive. I can either leave her to sink, or help her up. You know what happens to young women like her eventually … especially one so fair of face.’

  ‘So, you noticed her looks. Look, Zachariah, you’ve offered her a decent position in your household, and given her more freedom than any other servant would be afforded. Forget that she might be a relative and leave it at that. Eventually she’ll marry the gardener and have ten children to care for.’

  Zachariah laughed. ‘I like her … She’s straightforward but she has a soft heart as well as being able to think for herself. Besides, I need her for Gabe’s children.’

  ‘They’re your children now. May I make a suggestion? Marry the girl yourself, then you can take advantage of her services for nothing, as well as enjoy the comforts a wife brings.’

  ‘I have no intention of marrying. I prefer my own company – and besides, I’d make a terrible husband, since I’m too argumentative. You said so yourself.’

  John huffed with laughter. ‘It seemed to me that Clementine Morris enjoys a good argument. Let things lie then. The less she knows about you the better. You don’t owe the girl a thing except her wage. If you tell her you’re related she’ll try and take advantage of that. As the situation is now she’ll be grateful to you.’

  Two hours later Clementine found herself in a comfortable room in a more prosperous area of town. She’d been examined for lice and bathed. A maid had washed her hair with perfumed soap and she now smelled like a flower garden. The stench of bodily odour that permeated everything in the workhouse had been washed away and she felt all the better for it.

  She stood now in a plain cambric petticoat in front of the fire. Under it she was as naked as the day she was born – and poor, for her discarded clothing had been consigned to the bag destined for either the workhouse or the rag-and-bone man. She’d discarded all the old items and would shortly be reborn in another skin. She welcomed the feeling of being clean.

  Julia Beck was an elegant, mildly fashionable woman who eyed her up and down, but not unkindly. ‘Your hair is so very pretty with that touch of auburn in it. It suits your eyes. I always think light-brown eyes can look rather ordinary.’

  Clementine had never wondered if her eyes were ordinary or otherwise. She had good eyesight, something for which she was thankful. ‘Yes … I suppose they are.’

  The woman had meant no harm. She’d spoken without thinking, and she said hurriedly, ‘Oh, my goodness, I didn’t mean that to sound like a criticism. You will forgive me, won’t you? I meant to add that your eyes are far from ordinary, though, since they are so large, and you have such a long sweep of lashes. I admit to feeling quite jealous.’

  ‘You needn’t be, Mrs Beck. I wasn’t offended in the least, and I’ve always thought blue eyes like yours to be very pretty.’ An image came to her of Zachariah’s eyes, as blue as cornflowers in the field and reflecting from the workhouse window. He had a calm, direct sort of gaze, and was a man so very in control of himself.

  As if she’d picked up on Clementine’s thoughts, Julia said, ‘You’re young to be given the responsibility of Zachariah’s wards, Miss Morris. I do hope he knows what he’s doing.’

  ‘Mr Fleet sounded very sure of himself to me.’

  ‘He’s certainly a confident man. Are you experienced with children?’

  Having already gone through the questioning process with her employer, Clementine wasn’t inclined to repeat the exercise to satisfy the curiosity of this woman, as nice as she seemed to be.

  ‘Mr Fleet considered I was experienced enough to suit him.’

  ‘Ah yes … Zachariah is very thorough. He would have had your background examined in advance of offering you the position. Still, he may have overlooked some things, such as languages f
or the children. The pair of them will need to learn French and the boy must be tutored in Latin as well. Then there are music lessons to consider. Oh dear, you have such a task ahead of you … boys are so different to girls.’

  ‘I’ll make sure to discuss these points with Mr Fleet when the time comes. Thank you, Mrs Beck. Your advice is invaluable.’

  ‘Oh, do call me Julia, and I shall call you Clementine … such a pretty name for someone who was obliged to take shelter in a poorhouse, like a flower in a field of weeds. Was it very bad there?’

  ‘Nobody likes having to accept charity but it’s better than the alternative. As for my fellow inmates, they were no better or worse than me, and some of them had very pretty names. Poverty is a great leveller and I was grateful to have a roof over my head and a meal in my stomach.’

  ‘Zachariah Fleet’s sentiments too. Mine as well, but one wouldn’t want to leave a legacy of poverty for one’s own children and I count Zachariah as one of them, but don’t tell him so. I didn’t mean to pry.’

  ‘I know, Julia, but when you’ve been poor all your life you like to savour a meal when it’s offered to you.’

  ‘I have some books you might like to borrow, since my children are grown up and married. There is one on social etiquette you might find useful. I bought it for Zachariah but he said he was as social as he intended to be. He can be such a rogue at times … and proud.’

  ‘Thank you for warning me.’

  Julia made a little humming noise in her throat. ‘Thank goodness you have a figure that is well-proportioned and not overly heavy at the top or the bottom.’

  This woman’s mind is like a dragonfly that darts about from one thing to the other, Clementine thought.

  So, Zachariah Fleet had taken the precaution of having her investigated in advance. Of course he had. He wasn’t the type of man who left anything to chance, and probably knew more about her than she knew about herself. But why her, when there could be any number of women more experienced, and worthy of the position?

  ‘What does Mr Fleet do to earn his living?’

  ‘Oh, something to do with investment, I believe. I can never understand what these men get up to … The man is a genius where making money is concerned.’

  A knock came at the door. ‘Mrs Spencer has arrived, Mrs Beck.’

  ‘Thank you, Cora, show her up.’ A wide smile sped across her face. ‘While you were in the bath I sent a message with your measurements and colouring to my dressmaker, and told her to send everything that she had ready to wear. It’s so exciting. As soon as we have you looking decent we shall go shopping … I love shopping, don’t you?’

  Clementine couldn’t remember the last time she had bought anything new, but she imagined that growing used to it wouldn’t be hard.

  Soon there were packages on the bed. The gowns were generally unfussy, but a feast of colour and softness. Julia picked out a plain undecorated gown in cream, with a lace trimmed bodice and puffed sleeves to be worn over the tight sleeves. ‘You’ll look elegant in this.’

  Clementine did feel elegant, and to her shame she remembered the vulgar gowns she’d admired on her mother and knew they fared badly against hers. But she must not get above herself. She must remember that her current blessings must be paid for in kind.

  She protested, but half-heartedly, because her longing for something feminine and pretty outweighed her good sense. ‘This is too much … something grey and serviceable would be more suitable.’

  ‘Zachariah gave me instructions … to avoid grey, brown and black, unless it’s for outdoor wear, he said. He gave me a list, and will expect me to get everything on it, plus a few necessary items he’s left for me to determine. We’re not even halfway through it yet. We shall have so much fun over the next few days spending his money.’

  ‘Julia, you are incorrigible,’ she protested, half-laughing. ‘I’m his servant, not his … well … his lady, I suppose.’

  A glance slid her way, inquisitive and amused. ‘You meant to say his mistress, didn’t you? Let me tell you though, that would be a fine thing, my dear, were it Zachariah Fleet. He would surely be extremely discreet about such affairs. No doubt he has them, though not a glimmer of gossip has filtered my way. So annoying of him to be so secretive, but men have ways and means of going about such business, one supposes.’

  Goodness, Julia is a gossip, even though there’s no harm in it really, Clementine thought.

  ‘Besides, he would not sully the family name by hiring his mistress to take responsibility for his young wards, for he wouldn’t want the children corrupted in any way, shape or form. Now, I must stop gossiping.’

  His mistress! Did he have one? Clementine pondered on the thought, but dare not ask her, lest it get back to him. She didn’t want to lose her place because of an inquisitive tongue. And although she knew it was avarice, she didn’t intend to lose all these wonderful garments before she’d had a chance to wear them.

  Julia had a good eye for quality, and by the time her employer came to collect her a few days later Clementine had two trunks waiting in the hall.

  ‘What do you think of her now?’ Julia asked Zachariah when she came down the stairs.

  The glance that washed over her was so quick that it only grazed an insult across her cheek in passing. At the same time he drawled, ‘I hardly recognize you, Miss Morris, for you are quite the lady. I must congratulate you, Julia. She is a work of art and you’re the genius who painted her.’

  ‘I merely helped her emerge. If you’d oblige me with a second, more leisurely look you could perhaps make comment of the impression she has on you with more enthusiasm. How do you expect to attract a wife when you can’t offer a decent compliment?’

  ‘I’ve been telling you for years now that I have no wish to attract a wife.’ He sighed. ‘I’ll indulge you if I must, Julia, though Miss Morris doesn’t appreciate attention from men so a prolonged scrutiny from me would surely raise her ire, as well as her colour.’

  ‘What nonsense! It just needs the right man to come along and sweep her off her feet. Isn’t that right, Clementine?’

  There was a moment of silence when Clementine’s colour did indeed rise, and she hoped the ground would open and she’d disappear into the hole with a puff of smoke.

  Zachariah chuckled. ‘Well, Clementine Morris … you had plenty to say for yourself on the subject the last time we met. Have you suddenly lost your tongue?’

  She didn’t know what to say to that, so stood there, fighting off her embarrassment, until she sneaked a glance at him from under her bonnet and saw the amusement in his eyes. She laughed and shrugged at the same time. ‘I would suggest that you’ve left your broom at home on this occasion, Mr Fleet. Julia, please stop your teasing else I’ll never speak to you again.’

  Julia kissed her on the cheek. ‘I’ll miss you, my dear. You must write to me for advice, and once a month so you can tell me all the local gossip, and let me know how you are getting on with Zachariah. Being a man, he can be difficult to manage at times.’

  The exaggerated sigh he gave was accompanied by a grin.

  Julia patted him on the cheek. ‘As for you, dear man, come to dinner when you return. You can tell me all about the children. I approve of your young lady. You’ve made a good choice for your wards now we’ve tidied her up a little, I think. When will the children be arriving?’

  ‘The agent expects the ship to arrive within the fortnight.’

  ‘From where are they coming, Mr Fleet?’

  ‘From Australia.’

  Clementine was shocked into saying, ‘Alone?’

  ‘Good God, no! I’m not quite as irresponsible as that, though placing children in the company of people who are strangers to me does make me uneasy. They’ll be in the charge of friends of their parents who they’re already acquainted with, apparently. The ship will disembark passengers at Poole and my wards will be amongst them.’ He gave Julia a hug. ‘I expect to be back in London this time next month, Julia. Now, w
e must be off if we’re to make the inn before nightfall without tiring the horses too much.’

  ‘Goodness, you are too softhearted, Zachariah. Horses are born to pull carriages.’

  ‘Try telling that to one who has decided to be stubborn about it.’

  The servant took the trunks out to the waiting carriage while Clementine exchanged a final hug with Julia. ‘Thank you for your hospitality; you’ve been so kind.’

  Two solid-looking horses, a grey and a dark bay, waited for their riders to mount. She was relieved that the men were acting as outriders. She wouldn’t have to share the intimacy of the close confines of the carriage with them. She grinned. They probably didn’t want to share it with a female anyway, since they’d have to mind their manners.

  She was practically lifted into the carriage by Zachariah’s valet with a firm hand under her elbow.

  ‘I’m Evan Bergerac, actor, singer, poet, temporary gentleman’s gentleman and lover of beautiful women. At your service.’ Evan gazed from under hooded eyes at her for a few moments then kissed her hand.

  She withdrew it. He turned and exchanged a grin with his employer. ‘I don’t think she likes me.’

  ‘She obviously has good taste.’ Zachariah smiled at her. ‘Evan is harmless.’

  She wondered at the familiarity between them – as though they’d known each other for a long time.

  One of her trunks was strapped to the back; the second took up most of the floor. The coach horses fretted in their straps, tossed their heads with imperious grace and stamped their hooves. Two coach drivers would travel with the carriage and pair, one to relieve the other. She would be well guarded.

  Her excitement threatened to bubble over when the carriage began to move. She gave a final regal wave as they rounded the corner, for truly, she felt like Queen Adelaide in her carriage.

  She doubted if Zachariah felt as grand as King William though. He was less fanciful than she.