Different Tides Page 6

  ‘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 blatan
t 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.’

  In anticipation of the event Mrs Mason had already spread the table with a spotless white cloth and her best blue-and-white china. Before too long the table was laden down with freshly baked scones, and there was clotted cream and strawberry jam to spoon on to them. Steam curled from the spout of a brown earthenware pot and there was milk for the children.

  Edward and Iris tucked into the scones and soon wore creamy moustaches and expressions of bliss. They tried not to appear too eager or impatient as they waited for the adults to finish, but they exchanged looks and now and again forgot they were supposed to sit still, and jiggled about. In the back room one pup yelped.

  Edward’s gaze went to the door when others joined in. Mrs Mason smiled. ‘It sounds like they’re waking up. Would you like another cup of tea, Mr Fleet? A surprise is always better for the waiting.’

  ‘I think not, Mrs Mason. We’d best get on before the children burst out of their skins.’

  The woman filled a bowl with warm water and picked up a clean cloth. ‘We’ll wash those hands and faces before you see the pups lest you get dog hairs stuck to them. I’ve put two aside that I thought might suit. They’re the smallest of the litter and just the thing for young children … But that’s not to say that they’re not strong and lively.’

  Edward reached for Clementine’s hand and clung to it with a sticky tightness. He wasn’t ready to trust strangers. ‘I’ll wash their hands, Mrs Mason,’ she said. ‘Perhaps you could fetch the pups in.’

  The dogs were plump little creatures, with pointed ears and soulful faces. The brown one had white socks and a matching patch on its back. It immediately pounced on Iris, full of energy.

  ‘It looks as though that one’s chosen you,’ Zachariah said.

  Iris began to giggle as she fought a losing battle with her pup trying to lick her face. She tickled its belly.

  The second one was black and wiry-haired, and one of his ears flopped. ‘He has long legs so I do reckon he’s going to be a gangly dog that can run like the wind.’

  The pup gave growling yaps when Edward picked him up, but it was all for show because its thin tail wagged furiously.

  Clementine exchanged a smile with Zachariah at the sound of laughter coming from the children.

  ‘My dog smiles so I’m going to call him Happy,’ Iris said. ‘What will you call yours, Edward?’

  Still absorbed with his puppy, Edward gazed at it, his head to one side, his expression contemplative. It was a look he’d adopted from Zachariah. The boy was going to miss his uncle when he returned to London.

  ‘Well?’ Iris said.

  ‘Shush, Iris. I’m thinking.’

  ‘You spoke,’ she said.

  He gazed round him, gave a secretive little grin and lowered his voice. ‘Of course I did … how else can I call my dog to heel? I’m going to teach him to bite Jonas.’

  Iris gasped. ‘You’re not to say that name in case the orphanage comes to take us away … remember?’

  Fear came into Edward’s eyes. ‘I forgot. I’ll call him Wolf because he looks fierce.’ He placed the dog on the floor a few inches from his feet and crouched, his hands held out. ‘Here, Wolf … come.’

  The pup wobbled along for a few steps and flopped on to Edward’s feet. ‘See, it’s easy. They can’t hear me from where they are.’

  ‘Who can’t hear you?’ Zachariah asked him. ‘Who is Jonas?’

  Edward’s voice was a murmur as he answered, ‘Nobody.’

  Iris said, ‘How did you make Wolf do that?’

  Edward gave a modest shrug.

  Determined not to be outdone, Iris copied him. ‘Come to me, Happy.’

  Happy rolled over on his back and waved his legs in the air.

  When Zachariah exchanged a smile with her, Clementine realized how clever he’d been by finding a practical method to trick Edward out of his state of solitude. First the mind-reading trick, then a gift that demanded he use his voice … and all done so casually. She wondered if Zachariah had noticed the exchange about the name. Of course he had; he didn’t miss much.

  ‘I should congratulate you for helping Edward to find his voice,’ she said, when he escorted her to the carriage. ‘Was it planned?’

  ‘The dog was. The mind-reading … well, let’s call it a gift.’

  She laughed.

  ‘You don’t believe me?’ He placed a hand on her forehead and gazed into her eyes. ‘Think of something.’

  She tried to but could only think how blue and guarded his eyes were and wondered why the wry twist to his mouth was just one-sided. Her breath seemed to leave her body as her glance was suddenly absorbed into his, as if a window had opened and invisible forces had pulled her through it. Her mouth tingled and she wished he’d kiss her, though she knew he wouldn’t. She wondered desperately what it would feel like if he did.

  Panic filled her and she felt angry – at herself and at him. She was a servant, nothing more, but he made her feel as though she was his equal. She would be glad when he went back to London.

  ‘Hmmm … perhaps not,’ he said with a chuckle, as if he really had read her mind, and had found her lacking in everything he desired in a woman.

  Twisting away from him she ignored his hand and scrambled into the carriage unaided.

  Five

  The season slipped quietly into autumn and the landscape covered itself in a cosy patchwork quilt of warm colours.

  Seated astride his grey, Zachariah gazed at Martingale House. He’d already stayed longer than he’d intended to and it was time he left. There were business matters to take care of in London. He wanted to take stock and sell off some of his more risky investments.

  Cotton prices in America had plunged, and the wheat harvest had been poor. He also had investments in overseas railways. Luckily most of his wealth was in gold or property, rather than paper. He liked to get things settled in a timely manner lest an opportunity to profit from it was lost.

  Unlike Gabe, who had gambled for the pleasure of the risks involved. Zachariah knew when to apply caution, when to stop and wait until markets improved. He suspected there
would be a recession in America before too long and that would have an effect on his own fortune. The upside of that was the property market would contain some bargains.

  There was a sense of reluctance inside him to leave. He’d not expected to discover such a strong sense of duty in being responsible for two orphaned children. He admitted it had been a painful trait to recognize in himself. Edward in particular had formed an attachment to him. Odd when the child hardly knew him. Zachariah had offered him very little encouragement. Iris was a sweet child, outgoing and dainty.

  He could see only a passing resemblance between the children and their parents – or had that been a defence? That bothered him somewhat. They hadn’t seemed to recognize Gabe and Alice in the painting. Then there was the name that had slipped out. Jonas. ‘I’ll teach him to bite Jonas,’ Edward had said, evading Zachariah’s question. Also their manners were slightly rough, though they were improving.

  He shook himself, willing himself not to look for faults. Clementine was smoothing the rough edges from them. Circumstances made children change to suit their environment, so they wouldn’t make themselves noticeable by being different.

  He’d expected the impossible, two fully trained children complete with impeccable manners – children that wouldn’t cause him a moment of trouble. They would be trotted out in their Sunday best every time he visited so he could smile his benevolent-uncle smile on them and bask in their adoration. What he’d got was a pair of underfed strays who were strangers to him, both of whom were bewildered and afraid to trust anyone.

  Iris was fairly confident, though tended to look to her older brother in times of stress. Even at her young age she displayed some of the outgoing feminine charm that he hoped would stay with her. That, she’d inherited from her mother, except the girl had an intelligence that needed nurturing, so she didn’t grow up empty-headed. Clementine’s influence would ensure that Iris would contribute an informed opinion to a conversation in the years to come.

  Edward was scared of his own shadow. Over the past year or so he’d been so badly treated by someone, probably the Sheridan couple, that he’d become frightened of his own voice. The boy had nightmares, and he looked nervously around him when he spoke, and avoided the dark corners. There was caution in him where Zachariah would have expected to see his father’s brashness.