Sea Mistress (25 page)

Excitement washed over her. The first thing she would do would be to bring home her own set of books from the office. Hide them where Paul would not find them. The bedroom they used to share was the best place, she thought bitterly, he hardly ever came there any more.

She clenched her hands so hard that the nails bit into her flesh, he was getting his pleasure somewhere else, there was no way he had become celibate overnight, not her Paul. But he needn't think she was done for, no, not her.

She would get a new doctor. She would practice walking. Surely, in time, the strength would come back into her legs? In the meantime, she would just have to manage best she could and stop feeling sorry for herself. But even as the thought rose to her mind, a tear trickled along her cheek falling like a raindrop onto her useless legs.

The sound of seagulls wheeling overhead told Paul he was nearing the offices in Gloucester Place just a short distance from the docks.

‘Afternoon, Elias,' he greeted the old man affably. ‘How about you taking the rest of the day off?'

Elias lumbered awkwardly from the desk and took his hat from the stand near the door. ‘I'm obliged to you, sir.' He paused for a moment. ‘Could I just have a few minutes of your time, sir?'

Paul was impatient for the man to go but he concealed his feelings behind a smile. ‘Of course, is there anything wrong?'

‘Not really, sir, but me and the wife are not getting any younger and, well the truth is, sir, I'm thinking of retiring. Of course I'll wait until you are suited, I won't just walk out on you without proper notice.'

This was a turn up, Paul had imagined Elias to be a permanent fixture in the office. A small prickle of excitement filled him, he could put someone else in, a man more inclined to do his bidding rather than listen to Bridie's rantings. Not that she managed to get to town very often these days, it was all too much of an effort.

He couldn't be held responsible if her indisposition made life so much easier for him, it gave him a sense of power to know she was tied to the house most of the time, leaving him in charge of his own destiny for once. He had come to realize just how tight a rein Bridie had kept on him. Still, it hadn't prevented him going his own way in business had it?

‘Well of course we'll be sorry to lose you, Elias, but I take your point and of course you will need to be home more, putting your feet up.'

‘Thank you, sir, I knew you'd understand.'

Paul smiled, it was clear Elias was relieved to be breaking the news to Paul and not Bridie. She would most certainly have put up some argument, made the old man feel obligated, urged him to stay.

‘Right, off you go then, I'll lock up here when I've finished.'

When he was alone, Paul went through the drawers one by one, moving papers and replacing them, his eyes sharp, his brows drawn in concentration. At last, he came upon a drawer that was locked and breathing a sigh of relief, he knew he'd found what he was looking for. Carefully, he picked the lock and the drawer sprung open. Inside was a set of ledgers, just as he'd expected. He had come to the conclusion since handling the loads for overseas that there must be a great deal that Bridie was hiding from him. He took out the books and began to look through them. After a time, he whistled through his teeth, slumping back into the seat old Elias had vacated. Bridie was a cunning business woman, she had made herself rich, very rich indeed and it was time that Paul transferred some of the riches into his own bank. He was quite wealthy in his own right, the opium saw to that, but Paul was growing a little tired of being always on the alert for Customs and Excise men. He was getting wary of Charlesworth, too, the man was becoming obsessed by the opium, pushing more and more of it into himself until half the time, he couldn't function properly, he was becoming a liability.

Once he had his hands on Bridie's fortune, Paul could stop the smuggling racket at least for the time being. Get Charlesworth off his back. He smiled, he would bring his little Irish colleen home, set her up somewhere, have Carmella always on hand. Bridie could hardly check on him now could she?

As he studied the figures in more detail, anger began to build in him, Bridie had pretended to love him when all the time she was feathering her own nest, keeping the bulk of the money in her name. It didn't occur to him that he had been doing exactly the same thing. He scratched his chin, the only way he could get his hands on Bridie's fortune was to trick her into signing some of the vessels over to him. But she was shrewd, a good business woman, how could he fool her into signing a document without reading it? It wouldn't be easy but it would have to be done.

He remembered when she was sick, he'd asked her to sign a release to the bank enabling him to take out of the account enough money for the boys to extend their trip abroad. She had done it willingly, trusting him to take care of their sons' future. Could he use the same trick again? He must bide his time, wait until she was vulnerable. But that day might never come, Bridie had a hard edge to her especially when it came to money.

Paul replaced the books and closed the drawer, it clicked, the lock falling into place and he was satisfied that Bridie would never know he'd discovered her little scheme.

He'd better get home, give his wife a little attention, make sure she suspected nothing. If anyone could twist Bridie round his little finger it was Paul, she needed him, wanted him with her and for now, he would play the attentive husband till he dropped. The house seemed to bustle with people, Bridie was in the big sitting room with tradesmen standing around her, listening attentively to her every word.

‘Ah Paul,' she smiled at him, she seemed in a good mood, ‘I've had the most wonderful idea.'

He went forward to kiss her warmly, knowing somehow that this good idea was not going to suit him at all.

Bridie soon learned to negotiate the downstairs rooms with ease, her chair having been made exactly to her specifications. The wheels turned smoothly, propelled by the strength in her arms. At first she had to rest frequently but she soon improved, her shoulders becoming strong, her muscles hardening. She was nothing if not determined and she found that with something positive to occupy her mind, she was less frustrated, more able to deal with her life as a cripple.

She was still bitter, who wouldn't be? But at least she wasn't confined to one room, she could even go out into the garden if she chose, sit in the rose arbour, think her thoughts in peace. One of the downstairs rooms had been converted into a bedroom, she could retire when she chose, she felt in charge of her life once more.

Her renewed vigour seemed to affect Paul, he'd been far more attentive, spending much of his time with her. She wondered a little if he could be up to something but dismissed the idea as being unworthy and ungrateful. In any case, what harm could he do? He'd been to the office several times, hadn't mentioned her secret set of books so he couldn't have seen them. He wasn't the type to keep quiet about something if it aggrieved him.

And then the chill struck her, just when it seemed she was on top of things again and taking her life into her own hands, she fell sick. She realized she had spent too long outdoors, the days were growing cold as autumn was nearly over, and yet she had so enjoyed the feeling of freedom being in the garden had given her. Well, now she was paying for it.

Bridie lay in her bed, shivering, aching all over and even Dr Carpenter's assurances that it would pass didn't comfort her.

‘Her temperature is bound to rise,' the doctor was telling Paul, ‘she will almost certainly be feverish, perhaps talking nonsense but don't worry, just keep her cool, give her lots of liquid to drink and she'll be all right. Get a nurse in if it makes you feel any better.'

‘No, I'll cope.' Paul was beside her, holding her hand, he seemed at his best when she was ill and defenceless, it was something she would do well to remember. Perhaps Paul was the sort of man who needed to be in charge. Had she been too confident, too independent? Was that the mistake she had been making all her married life?

She had heard the doctor tell Paul that the next few days would be the worst but she hadn't reckoned on being so low, so depleted. All she did was lie in her bed, unaware of the time passing, slipping in and out of a restless sleep. She was vaguely aware of Paul sitting beside her, talking to her softly, a paper in his hand, holding out a pen towards her.

‘I wouldn't trouble you, my darling,' she scarcely understood his words, ‘but it's the boys, their tutor is asking for more funds. It won't be much longer now before they come home, might as well let them enjoy their last few weeks abroad.'

She scrawled her signature willingly, she should really give Paul more say in the handling of the money. It was all well and good for her to hold the purse-strings but what if she became ill, really ill, how would Paul manage with all the expenses of the household and more importantly with caring for the boys? He would be quite lost. When she was well, she would hand some of the responsibility over to him. No wonder he acted like a child when she treated him like one.

At last, the haze began to clear from her mind. She still felt weak, even her bones ached but she was slowly regaining her strength. Paul was wonderful, he had the maid bring her some warming beef broth and he fed it to her himself, lovingly taking care of her. She fell back on the pillows and smiled up at him.

‘Paul, I want you to take over handling the household expenditure,' she said. She was still unsure about her secret accounts, perhaps for now she should keep that card up her sleeve, ease Paul into the business slowly. His own income was modest in the extreme, indeed, the way he spent his money it was doubtful he had any resources at all to fall back on; it really wasn't the way to treat her husband.

She almost blurted out the whole story, how she had sent ships deep sea, how their profits far exceeded his expectations. She almost handed him the key to her drawer in the office and yet something kept her silent.

‘I'll gladly take over the running of the house and the business, if you want me to. But I have to go back to sea in a day or two.' Paul took her hand, ‘It's only a short trip and I'll be back before you know it. Shall I bring in a nurse while I'm away?'

Disappointed, Bridie shook her head. She had become used to having him with her, at her side, caring for her, loving her. It seemed her suspicious nature had led her in the wrong direction, Paul didn't seem to want to take over the finances, he certainly hadn't jumped at the idea as she had expected him to.

‘Do you have to go?' She knew she sounded weak, defenceless but she couldn't help it.

‘Yes, I have to, my darling but it won't be for long, I promise you.'

‘Why do you have to go now, what's so urgent?' Bridie found all her old suspicions about him having an affair were returning. She tried to keep the edge from her voice but she didn't quite succeed.

‘I want to rid myself of Charlesworth,' Paul said, ‘the man is becoming more of a liability than a help.'

‘Well, you're full of surprises,' Bridie said, ‘what's Charlesworth done to upset you?'

‘Nothing specific, it's just his way, he thinks he's the boss for a start, he thinks he doesn't need to work too hard. Well I can't afford to employ a man who doesn't carry his full weight.'

‘All right, go if you must but don't be long, Paul, I don't know how I'm going to manage without you.'

Paul took her hand and kissed it. ‘I'll be back before you know it.'

The days seemed empty without Paul, the house was only a place to live, it was no longer a home, a haven where she was safe.

Bridie found all her old fears returning, was Paul involved with Ellie Hopkins? But no, he'd spent all of the past weeks at her bedside, there couldn't be anyone else. Who would wait that patiently for him?

When she was feeling a little stronger, Bridie sent for the carriage, it was time she went to the office, sorted matters out. She was still inclined to tell Paul everything; if he kept his word and came home quickly, maybe she would show him her books, let him know how rich they really were.

The maid helped her to dress and Bridie saw with alarm how much weight she had lost. She wheeled her chair to the mirror and looked at her face, she was drawn and pale and yet somehow she looked more beautiful than she had ever done in her life. Perhaps being the delicate invalid was a role that suited her, on the surface at least.

It was undignified to have Collins carry her out of the house, though he stared straight ahead lest she accused him of being familiar. He clucked softly at the horses, urging them to be quiet and placed her carefully inside the carriage, wrapping a rug around her legs.

She smiled at him warmly, seeing him as if for the first time. He was young and quite handsome in a rugged sort of way. No gentleman, of course, but somehow he reminded her of her cousin Jono.

As the carriage jerked into motion and picked up speed between the overhanging trees, the wheels seemed to catch every stone, every rut in the driveway. Bridie winced, she still felt very weak, perhaps she was ill-advised to go to the office so soon after her illness. The cobbled streets of Swansea were little better, the carriage seemed to leap and buck with a life of its own. Bridie's head began to ache, she wished now that she had stayed at home. It was a relief when the elegantly painted front of the offices came into sight. She sighed and waited while Collins, who had been up top with the driver, came round to the doorway and carried her quickly indoors.

Bridie was still self-conscious about being seen in public; helpless, ineffectual, it offended her independent nature. At least Collins appreciated the fact and was tactful in his handling of her.