Sea Mistress (14 page)

‘Can I help you, then, madam?' She spoke with a distinctive Irish accent and in spite of her polite manner, her eyes as they rested on Bridie's well-dressed figure were hostile.

‘I am Mrs Marchant.' Bridie saw the woman's eyes narrow, ‘I'm simply enquiring if my husband is lodged here.'

The woman glanced over her shoulder and Bridie felt, rather than saw, the master's almost imperceptible nod.

‘Sure, your man lodges here but he's not in, not right at this moment. Sorry.'

‘Then oblige me by taking me to his quarters, I shall wait for him there.' Bridie turned to look back at Richard Charlesworth, he was already walking into the ale-sodden bar, nodding to the locals and taking the corner seat as though he was a regular customer.

Mrs Murphy hesitated but clearly Bridie's imperious manner overawed her and with a bob, she led the way up the uncarpeted stairs.

Bridie wondered why on earth Paul should stay in a place like this when he had the means to reside in comfort in a much higher class establishment.

In his rooms Bridie looked around her disdainfully. The furniture was old but good, that much she conceded and the smell of beeswax indicated that the rooms were well cared for. She tugged back the patchwork quilt and saw that the bed linen was spotless. Perhaps, in this area of docklands, Murphy's was the best that Ireland could offer the casual visitor.

She dragged a rattan chair close to the small deep-set window and stared out into the gathering gloom of the evening. She felt weary, wondering if she had been foolish to come here, what if Paul was truly here only on business? How would he react to finding her spying upon him?

She was almost asleep, her head fell back onto the hard cane of the chair and the contact jerked her into wakefulness. She forced herself to concentrate, the street outside seemed to be darker. Two people were coming out of the gloom into the splash of light from the open doorway of the ale house.

Bridie rose to her feet and with a beat of her pulse saw the stocky figure of her husband, his dark hair glinting with the fine rain that had begun to fall. Standing looking up at him was a woman, Bridie could see she was small and well-formed even though a coarse shawl was wrapped around her head and shoulders.

Anger filled her, she put her hand to her throat and leaned closer to the cold glass, straining to see if any scene of tender intimacy would be enacted between her husband and this whore he was with.

Was the woman Ellie Hopkins? The figure was small enough but it was too dark to see any detail. Paul put his hand on the woman's shoulder and for a moment, as he bent forward, Bridie thought he would actually kiss the upturned face. Then a third figure joined the pair, a man, it was Richard Charlesworth, Bridie would stake her life on it. Charlesworth spoke for a moment and then took the woman's arm and led her within the building and out of Bridie's sight.

Paul glanced up, his face a mere blur. She clenched her hands together and drew herself to her full height, her husband was betraying her. She turned into the room, perhaps they slept in this very bed together. Anger burned in her skull, she knew that if, in that instant, she had a weapon she would be capable of killing anyone who stood in her way.

She heard footsteps on the stairs and then Paul was in the room, the scent of the cold rain mingling with the clean fresh smell of his skin. She loved him so much she ached. And yet she hated him too.

‘What are you doing here?' He sounded cold. He closed the door behind him and came further into the room. ‘And why are you sitting in the dark?'

He lit the oil lamp and turned to look at her, there was no smile of welcome. ‘Well?'

Bridie found she was at a loss to reply, she was afraid to accuse him outright of being unfaithful and yet what other reason could she have for coming to Ireland?

‘You have been spying on me, is that it?' He was not playing the loving husband now, he was angry with her and Bridie knew that she had nothing to lose. She might just as well give voice to her suspicions and see if he could answer them.

‘You are having an affair, aren't you, Paul?' She sounded as angry as he appeared to be.

‘What nonsense is this?' he stood staring at her, his whole body tense. ‘What on earth has put such a foolish notion into your head?' In spite of his words, he sounded uncertain.

‘I know you're being unfaithful to me, so don't try to deny it,' she flung at him and he sank down heavily on the bed. There was a strange look on his face and for a moment Bridie thought he was going to confess everything but he remained silent.

‘It's that hussy Ellie Hopkins, isn't it?' She was incensed by his silence, the swine was guilty, it was plain as the nose on his face.

His reaction startled her, he burst into loud laughter, leaning back against the pillows, uncaring that his booted foot was resting on the clean quilt. What rubbish!'

Was she wrong or was that relief she could hear in his voice? She stared at him closely. ‘Tell me then, why did you bother to come to Ireland with such a pathetic load of leather? You know and I know that carrying a few boxes of skins, even supplemented with fuel blocks, can not be profitable.'

‘Glyn Hir gives better service than some of the bigger tanneries. The skins are delivered to the saddler for me and then collected and brought to the docks as part of the bargain. I did it as a favour, if you must know.'

Now she had him. ‘A favour for Ellie Hopkins, is that it?'

‘No, that isn't it at all.'

‘Then give me a rational explanation.' Bridie's words fell like stones and she saw Paul's mouth tighten in anger.

‘I do not like your tone of voice,' he said. Bridie was taken aback by his air of confidence, for a moment, she didn't know how to react, had she been wrong?

From the ale room below came the sound of ribald laughter, the voices of men raised in the high spirits engendered by strong drink. She thought then of the pair of them standing outside in the rain, the woman looking up at Paul, the tilt of her face indicating a closeness that was not that of a casual acquaintance.

‘Charlesworth, he warned you I was here, didn't he?' She resumed her attack. ‘You were outside with your doxy, I saw you with my own two eyes and the ship's master warned you, don't take me for a fool, Paul.'

He came to her then and took her hands in his. ‘You
are
being a fool, my darling,' his voice was suddenly soft. ‘I was walking along with the landlady's daughter, that was all. She does my laundry while I'm in dock, there is nothing else to it, I assure you.'

He took her in his arms and she allowed her head to rest against the broadness of his shoulder. He was not a tall man but Paul had the whipcord strength of a man who lived his life battling against the sea.

‘If only I could believe you, Paul, I want to believe you, God alone knows I do.'

‘Then believe me, I'm not having an affair with Ellie Hopkins.'

She so wanted to believe him. He lifted her chin and kissed her lips warmly and as she clung to him, he kissed her neck, his hands caressing her shoulders so that she leaned against him weak with desire.

‘Come on, let's eat a little supper and then go to bed. As you're here, we might as well make the most of the occasion.'

She raised her mouth to his and he kissed her and if she sensed relief more than passion in his embrace, she was too grateful to question it.

It was only later, lying beside him, wakeful in the unfamiliar room clothed in darkness that the questions began to creep into her mind. For whom was Paul doing the favour of carrying the leather to Ireland if not for Ellie Hopkins? Paul had spoken of the landlady's daughter doing his laundry as though it was a task she undertook regularly. That meant he was in Ireland a great deal more often than she supposed. Was this the couple's trysting place? Did Ellie Hopkins travel out here on the
Marie Clare
with him, was she even now lying snug aboard ship?

She turned over on her back. What if she was? Surely Bridie could overlook a small indiscretion with a woman of no social standing. But Ellie Hopkins did have some standing in the town now that she was a rich widow. Bridie must make a point of monitoring Paul's trips more closely in the future, it seemed her husband must be kept on a tight rein. For now, she must get some sleep, it had been a long day.

Morning was creeping through the chink in the curtains by the time Bridie managed to sleep. When she awoke, it was to find the bed beside her was cold and empty. Paul had gone.

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘Look, Ellie, you know as well as I do what Jubilee intended and that was for me to have a share in the business, it's only fair that you carry out Jubilee's wishes.'

Ellie was seated in the shabby parlour, the fire glimmered in the grate, the embers sending up sparks as the coal shifted. It had been a hot summer's day but now, in the evening, it had turned quite chill.

Ellie looked up at Matthew, she felt weary, weary and sick at heart, all she longed for was some peace. ‘I told you it will be sorted out, Matthew,' she pushed back her hair. ‘I won't cheat you of anything, you know that but I can't do this thing alone, I have to have Mr Telforth's help. You'll just have to be patient.'

‘He won't lift a finger to help! He didn't like me and he made that obvious. It's a few months now since we put Jubilee in the ground, I think I've been patient enough and no-one can say I haven't.'

‘I've given you a rise in your wages, made you chief hand, I don't see what else I can do.'

‘You can honour your husband's wishes, that's what you can do. Had I been made a shareholder, I'd be a rich man now and it is what Jubilee wanted, isn't it?'

She could see he was going to persist in the matter. ‘I'll see the lawyer about it, don't keep on, Matthew, I just can't cope with it all at a time like this,' she attempted to divert him. ‘Are you getting married soon, Matthew? Isn't that what you led Jubilee to believe?'

‘He assumed that was the case, aye, not that I said anything was certain, mind.'

Ellie's patience was growing thin. ‘Are you getting married or not, give me a straight answer for once in your life?'

He smiled as though amused by her irritation. ‘Maybe and maybe not.' Matthew thrust his hands into his pockets. ‘I have been giving my future prospects some thought. You know I've always been fond of
you
, Ellie, perhaps it would be a good idea if I stayed free for the time being, you never know what could come out of our friendship.'

Ellie felt her skin crawl with revulsion, she rose to her feet, clenching her hands together resisting the temptation to slap Matthew hard across his smug face.

‘There could never be anything between us,' she said, ‘put that right out of your mind, Matthew.'

‘Why not? I'm young and strong, Ellie, I could give you children, heirs, strong healthy sons. I'm not a seedless grape like old Jubilee was.'

‘That's enough!' Ellie felt anger burn inside her. ‘I won't have such coarse talk in my house, I never heard the like from my father or from Jubilee and I won't listen to it from you.'

Matthew lifted his chin and swaggered to the door. ‘Don't pretend to be so holy and good, Ellie, I know too much about your past for you to try to pull the wool over my eyes.'

‘How dare you?' Ellie walked past him into the hallway and drew the door wider letting in the late evening sunshine. ‘If you think that sort of threat will endear you to me then you're very wrong.'

‘Aw come on, you know I'm only joshing.' Matthew realized he'd overstepped the line. ‘I wouldn't hear a word against you, Ellie, I'd kill any man who went over your name in public and you know it.'

Ellie's shoulders sagged. ‘Look, Matthew, put any ideas of a romance between us out of your mind. In any case, it wouldn't pay you, don't you realize I'd lose respect if I married within a year of Jubilee's death.' She saw his look of surprise with a sense of triumph. ‘I fully intend to observe a year of mourning, it's only proper, so you must see that marriage to anyone is out of the question.'

‘Oh, I do see, I agree that's only right and proper.' Matthew's words came out in a rush. ‘But I'll be here, helping you, I'll protect you from the other men, I'll look after you.'

To her relief, Matthew left her then and strode out into the roadway leading to the tannery yard. The shadows were long over the wooden buildings, it was high time the men finished work but Ellie was too tired to follow Matthew and give instructions for them to leave.

Luke and Harry were faithful workers, good men, and Boyo would do anything he could to help her but as Ellie returned to the sitting room, she faced the fact that none of them could protect her from Matthew Hewson.

‘I can't marry you now, you must see that.' Matthew was lying on the grass, the sun warm on his naked back. ‘I must get this thing sorted out with Jubilee's widow.'

Rosie turned to him, her bodice still open to reveal her full breasts, her skirt riding up above her dimpled knees. Her rosy lips were pressed together in a pout.

‘We'll get married when I can give you a good living,' he continued, stretching his arms behind his head. ‘I need to wheedle the shares Jubilee promised me from Ellie before I make any commitment.'

‘
Duw
, there's long words then, the poet in you coming out is it, Mat Hewson?' Rosie slid her hand between his legs, ‘But this is where you keep your brains, man, don't try to fool me.' She giggled as she felt him harden, ‘Led by their urges, men are, see, and a sensible woman knows that only too well.'