Sea Mistress (33 page)

If the Customs and Excise men were ever to raid the ship, he would simply be part of the crew, Paul Marchant would be the one to take the blame for any irregularity that might be found. And yet a slight uneasiness filtered into Matthew's mind, Paul had taken the trouble of involving Ellie, up to her neck, wouldn't he have taken the same precautions concerning Matthew himself? He would have to tread very carefully, he must take great pains to ensure there was nothing concrete to tie him in to the smuggling business.

Ellie was not at all pleased to see him. She met him in the dimly lit hallway of the house bordering the tannery and Matthew could tell from the voices issuing from the drawing room that she had company.

‘I want paying,' he said bluntly, ‘I'm sick of playing around, I want some money and fast.'

‘All right,' Ellie said at once, ‘I'll pay you, if that's what it takes for you to leave me alone.'

‘Anything wrong, Ellie?' The pup Daniel Bennett was standing in the doorway as if he was master of the house, his eyes were guarded as they looked at Matthew.

‘Keep out of this,' Matthew said. ‘It's none of your business, get it?'

‘If you are upsetting Ellie then it is my business.' The newspaper man was as tall as Matthew himself but much slighter. He looked as if he'd never done a real day's work in his life.

‘It's all right, Dan, really,' Ellie said quickly.

‘Aye, you tell your fancy man to keep his nose out of this or it might just get busted.'

‘There's no need of that,' Ellie said, ‘I've told you I'll pay you, I'll get the money out of the bank tomorrow, come up here about three in the afternoon, I'll have it ready.'

‘This had better not be a trick,' Matthew said, ‘any funny business and you'll be sorry.'

‘Will you leave this house and now?' Daniel said in a hard voice. Matthew moved forward, his fists bunched under Daniel's chin. ‘And what if I don't little boy?' he sneered. ‘What will you do about it, I could kill you and you know it.'

‘Please Dan,' Ellie begged, ‘let it go, I'll deal with it myself, I happen to owe Matthew some money, that's all.'

‘Well he hasn't got a very gentlemanly way of asking for it.' Daniel had not backed away as Matthew had expected, he grasped him by the front of his starched shirt.

‘Go back to your mother's milk, sonny,' Matthew said between gritted teeth, ‘you can play with the big boys when you've grown up a bit.'

To his surprise, the young reporter moved rapidly, his fist lashed out, catching Matthew a blow to the nose. His head snapped back and he felt blood run down his chin.

‘You bastard!' He lunged forward but another blow caught him across the eye, Daniel Bennett was stronger than he looked.

‘Just leave it now,' the reporter had the gall to say, ‘I don't want to fight you.'

‘It's a bit late for that, I'm going to thrash you to within an inch of your miserable life.' Matthew flung himself forward thinking his weight would bear the lighter man to the ground but suddenly Daniel was not there. Confused, Matthew looked around just in time to feel a fist connecting painfully with the side of his temple.

It began to dawn on Matthew that Daniel Bennett was not the milksop he'd taken him to be, somewhere, somehow he'd taken lessons in boxing but a kick between the legs would knock all that nonsense out of him. Even before the thought was put into practice, Daniel had caught his raised foot and twisted it so that with a cry, Matthew was on the ground, his face crushed against the floor, Bennett's foot against the back of his neck.

Anger flowed in a blood red stream before his eyes and Matthew lay for a moment, winded, gathering his strength; a blind urge to kill filled him and he made to rise. Before he could move, Daniel was dragging him upright, twisting his arm behind his back, propelling him towards the door. He was outside then in the cold night air, his face stinging, his knee agonizingly painful as he tried to stand upright.

He turned for one last venomous look at Daniel. ‘You think you're very clever but all the boxing tricks in the world won't stand up against the weight of an iron bar.'

He limped away from the tannery, his head full of thoughts of revenge. They would pay for this humiliation, both of them. Oh they might be laughing now but he, Matthew Hewson, would be the one to have the last laugh of all.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Bridie sat in Jono's parlour looking out at the greyness of the winter day. She felt as cold as the frost that rimmed the windows. She felt a great sadness that Paul had kept her sons away from her over Christmas, the very time they should have been with her. Now, he'd sent them away, out of her reach, God knows where. It seemed he was determined to punish her even though he was the one who had betrayed every marriage vow he had ever made.

Well, Paul was part of her past now and even though she had lost her material possessions, she had found something else, the steady, undemanding love of Simon Collins. For love her he did, it was becoming more and more apparent every day.

She rose to her feet and leaning on her stick, moved close enough to the window to look into the garden. There he was, emerging from the coal shed, his shirt sleeves rolled up, as if he didn't feel the cold. He carried the heavy coal scuttles with ease, his hair, fine and blond fell over his face and Bridie felt her heart contract.

She studied him, he was young and strong, a virile man, what did he see in her? She had been a shrewish mistress, always carping and criticizing and yet when she was at her lowest ebb, it was Collins who had been at her side supporting her.

He had changed in the weeks they'd been at Clydach; he'd become straighter, more confident as though the burden of servility had been lifted from him. She had changed too, Bridie realized, the last remnants of the old, selfish Bridie James seemed to have been knocked out of her, firstly in the way Paul had betrayed her and later in her efforts to walk again. But in that she had succeeded. Encouraged not only by Collins but by her cousin Jono she was becoming stronger every day.

When she was reunited with her children, they would see not an invalid but the upright mother they had always known. That Paul would make every attempt to turn the boys against her she didn't doubt but she had taken the precaution of writing to them, telling them only that she was taking a holiday with Uncle Jono in Clydach until her health improved. She could only hope that Paul had sent her letter on to their sons.

A splash of bright colour near the gate caught Bridie's eye and she saw a woman coming towards the house. As the slight figure drew nearer, she recognized Ellie Hopkins, her face pale, her hair drawn back away from her face. She was still in mourning for her clothing was dark except for the yellow scarf she wore around her shoulders.

Bridie returned to her chair, her ability to walk was something she would keep secret, for now at least. She didn't want anyone going to Paul, telling him how well she was. She was biding her time, waiting until she was fully recovered and then she would take on Paul and a whole fleet of sailors if need be in order to have her inheritance restored to her.

Bridie was aloof as Ellie was shown into the parlour, she hadn't forgotten the angry scene at the docklands when Ellie had struck out at her. Not that she didn't deserve it, she had behaved like a fishwife, still it was with a grave face and even graver reservations that she looked up at the other woman.

‘I'm surprised that you should come looking for me, of all people,' Bridie said when Ellie was seated in a chair at the other side of the room. ‘No-one could call us friends.'

‘I need to talk to you,' Ellie began with a rush, it was clear she was nervous. Had Paul made the woman promises and then let her down? It was more than a possibility.

‘Well talk away then, I'm listening.' Bridie's tone did not soften, she didn't see why she should be kind to this woman who for all she knew had slept with her husband.

‘Your husband . . .' Ellie began and Bridie raised her hand impatiently.

‘Whatever he's done, I don't want to hear it,' she said coldly. ‘I have enough problems of my own without taking on yours too.'

‘I thought we might work together,' Ellie said softly, ‘I'd like to explain. I am being dragged into your husband's illicit dealing and being blackmailed by a man who used to work for me.'

‘You must have done something wrong then, otherwise you wouldn't be subject to threats would you?'

‘I sold leather to your husband, I had my wagons take the skins to the saddler's. I didn't know that the leather was being made into horse-collars and filled with contraband goods. I didn't know that your husband was paying me far more than the leather was worth, either.'

If Bridie was surprised she had no intention of allowing this woman to see it. ‘You should know better than to become involved with a married man and you a widow,' she said unforgivingly.

‘I was not involved with your husband, not in any way. I was never, I repeat, never unfaithful to Jubilee, I hoped you'd have come to realize that by now.'

‘Why, what should have changed my mind?' Bridie asked guardedly, there was something in the way this woman spoke that rang true.

‘Your husband has installed his woman friend from Ireland in your house as his so-called housekeeper, at least that's what the gossips are saying. That sort of relationship doesn't develop overnight. I'd have thought it perfectly obvious that Paul Marchant was not interested in me except as someone stupid enough to be used by him.'

Perhaps Ellie was telling the truth, what she said made sense. Still, she wouldn't put it past Paul to indulge himself with the rich widow while having a fling in Ireland at the same time.

‘Why should I believe anything you say?' Bridie asked, interested in spite of herself.

‘Because I am telling you the truth and we can help each other,' Ellie spoke with conviction. Bridie attempted to look past the pretty, delicate appearance Ellie Hopkins presented to the woman within.

‘Together we might manage to defeat Paul Marchant and Matthew Hewson,' Ellie was leaning forward earnestly. ‘I'm sure you want your ships back, don't you? What
I don't
want is Jubilee's good name being dragged through the mud.'

‘Of course I want my ships back but I don't particularly want my husband exposed to all the world as a criminal,' Bridie said carefully. ‘What have you in mind?'

‘I have a plan but I can't put it into action alone, I'll need help.'

‘I'm listening,' Bridie said not hoping for too much yet unable to contain the rising excitement within her.

‘I've learned that my manager is still supplying your husband with leather. My wagons take the skins to the saddler's workshop to be made up into tack. Later, my men collect the collars, saddles, and bridles and deliver the finished goods to the docks. The collars by now are filled with opium.'

Bridie nodded, this was just what she had suspected. ‘Go on.'

‘Two of my trusted drivers will change the load of horse collars, replace them with collars containing only rye grass.'

Bridie was not slow to realize the implications of what Ellie was proposing. Paul's connections in Ireland would not be happy to be duped, they might even turn ugly, something he would want to avoid at all costs.

‘I see what a threat this would be to Paul, I don't love him any more, indeed, I think I despise him but he is the father of my children, I wouldn't want him harmed.'

‘This is where I'll need help,' Ellie said. ‘Someone must go to Ireland and you have the right contacts. Whoever you send must offer to bail your husband out on condition that he signs a few papers.'

‘I see, it might just work. Paul would be so frightened he'd sign anything. I'd have my fortune restored to me, my ships would be under my control again. But what about you, what good would all this do you?'

‘Well, if your husband would sign another document, absolving me and Glyn Hir Tannery from any involvement in his schemes, Matthew Hewson would have no hold over me.'

Bridie considered the matter for a moment and then suddenly made up her mind, ‘I'll go to Ireland myself.'

Ellie looked at her in surprise, she glanced at the wheels of Bridie's chair but seemed reluctant to say anything about Bridie's disability.

Bridie decided to trust her, she had little option really and the scheme did seem sound, it might really work. In any case, Bridie had no better ideas herself. She rose from her chair. ‘Don't worry, I can walk,' she said, ‘with a little help.'

Ellie smiled, ‘I'm glad I came to you.' She sounded sincere and Bridie realized, reluctantly, that she might have been mistaken about Ellie Hopkins all along.

‘Tell me the truth, it doesn't matter to me now,' Bridie said ‘but I like to know where I stand. Was there ever anything between you and Paul?'

‘Nothing. I give you my word before God, I will swear it on the Holy Bible if it will convince you,' Ellie said softly. ‘I am still in mourning for my late husband but when the year is over, I'm going to marry a man I love very much.'

‘Then I'm sorry for the way I've behaved,' Bridie said at last. It was difficult for her to apologize. ‘For a time I was so overwrought, so insanely jealous that I was ready to believe anything of anyone.'

She studied Ellie's face, she was so open, so young and beautiful as well as being rich, she doubtless had her pick of the young men of Swansea. Why should she settle for someone like Paul?

‘Perhaps when this is all over, we can be friends. It seems I've misjudged quite a few people.' Once the words were spoken Bridie felt better. It was as though she had crossed some sort of threshold. Was she becoming more fair-minded or was she simply older and wiser?