The Victory (68 page)

Mrs Upjohn was a thin, mousey woman, with shoulders
bent from too much hard work, and hands red and flayed
from being too often in water. Her clothes glittered strangely
as she moved, and it took Héloïse a while to realise that they
were spangled with fish-scales, like sequins. There were three
small children: a squalling baby and a boy and girl of four
and three.

‘
Now then, Upjohn,' Lord Anstey said heartily, 'this is the
lady who wishes to place young Charlie Wood in a kind
home.' This was the name they had decided to give the boy.

Mrs Upjohn brought forward a wooden chair and placed it
by the fire. 'Would it please your grace to sit down?' she
whispered, almost overcome with awe.

Héloïse sat, and surveyed the couple before her. 'You
understand,' she said, 'that the boy has been badly treated in
the past, and that he is very rough in his manner. But he has
worked for many years on fishing-boats, and knows the sea
very well. I wish him to be useful to you, Mr Upjohn, and to
learn his trade; and to be made a decent, honest man. You
will need, I think, to be firm with him, for he has learned
some bad ways from those who had charge of him before, but
I wish him to be treated also with great kindness, for he has
had very little of that in his life.'

‘
I think I understand you, ma'am,' Upjohn said, 'and I will
say that I can't abide cruelty, to man nor beast. Anyone
hereabouts will tell you that Ezra Upjohn is not the man to
stand by and see a fellow human being suffer.'

‘
You understand that her ladyship will pay you a sum of
money monthly for the boy's keep, as long as she is satisfied
that he is being properly cared for?’

understand that, sir,' Upjohn said, 'and I won't deny
that the money will come in very useful, for we've the little
ones to care for, and though fishing is my life and I wouldn't want any other, there's no denying it's an uncertain living, up
one day and down the next. Now that sum o' money, coming
in regular, that will take a deal of worry off Mrs Upjohn's
shoulders' — he gave his wife an affectionate glance, which
she returned shyly — 'which I shall be glad to see done, for a
better wife a man couldn't want, if he searched the whole of
England. And I shall be glad, too, to have the help on the boat, until my Timmy is old enough to come out with me,
which won't be for a long while yet, as you see, ma'am,' he
said with a grin, 'for feed him how we may, he isn't but four
years old, and won't grow any faster.’

Héloïse smiled, liking the fisherman more every moment.
Her only doubts were as to how the quiet, mousey little
woman would cope with Karellie's roughness. 'I hope your
children will not be shocked by poor Charlie's manners,' she
said. 'He has lived with a very low sort of people until now.'

‘
Don't you worry, ma'am,' Upjohn said quickly, divining
her problem. 'Mrs Upjohn may look as though a gust of wind would blow her away, but there's steel underneath, and she'll
soon bring the boy round her thumb. And having him out
with me most of the day, I'll knock the corners off him in no
time, never you fear. A boy will do a great deal to be like
those he's with, and when he sees I don't cuss nor take the
Name in vain, he'll stop doing it.’

When Héloïse and Anstey left the little house, and took
their first deep breath of untainted air, Héloïse felt much
happier about Karellie's future. ‘I'm sure you have found just
the right family to place him in,' she said as Anstey handed
her into the carriage. 'I only hope that he does not corrupt
those little children, or shock that poor woman. But the man
will be very good for poor Karellie, and make a fisherman of
him, if nothing else.'

‘
I'll have my agent keep an eye on them from time to time,
to make sure all is well, but I'm sure you don't need to worry
any more.' He hesitated delicately. 'You won't tell Mathilde, I
suppose, about the business?'

‘
No,' Héloïse said. 'It is better for her not to know. If he
really is Karellie, he is not the brother she remembers, and it
would make her very unhappy to see him as he is now.'

‘I'm sure you're right,' Anstey said, relieved.

*

At the end of May, when the weather began to be too hot for London, Roberta proposed going down to Brighton for a few
weeks.

‘
It will be very gay down there this year. And with the
camp nearby, there will be plenty of handsome young officers
in scarlet regimentals to distract Mathilde's attention from
the Duc.'

‘
I don't think a hundred officers all dying of love for her could do that,' said Héloïse, who had by now had sufficient opportunity to observe for herself her ward's secret passion for the French nobleman. 'But I suppose it would be a good
thing to do, if there are eligible young men there.'

‘
In plenty,' Roberta said, amused. 'Should you like me to
get her a pretty colonel with ten thousand a year? My Papa is
sure to know of one. Or is it an admiral you want?'

‘
Don't tease,' Héloïse said with a sigh. 'And please don't
talk of admirals. When I think of poor Pierre Villeneuve,
murdered in that dreadful way, it almost breaks my heart!’

The report had recently reached England of the French
admiral's mysterious death in an inn on the way to Paris. Hehad survived his dreaded return to France only by two days.

‘
But it said in the French papers that he killed himself,'
Roberta said. 'There was a letter to his wife on the bedside
table.'

‘
Pah!' said Héloïse crossly, becoming very French in her
agitation. 'One does not believe such stupidness! A man killing himself does not stab himself ten times, and drag
himself half out of bed in that way! That wicked monster
Napoleon sent secret men to kill him, so that he could not tell
the truth about Trafalgar, and s
^p
ew the French people whose fault it really was. It was the assassins who wrote the letter,
and a very vulgar letter it was, too, not what a gentleman
would write to his wife.'

‘
Well, perhaps you are right,' Roberta said soothingly. 'We
will never know the truth of it, I don't suppose. So now, shall
we go to Brighton, or not? For myself, I should very much like
a breath of sea air, and a little exploring in the pretty Sussex countryside.'

‘
To say the truth, dear Roberta,' Héloïse said wistfully, 'I
long and long to go home and see my dear babies, and Flon,
and my poor dog, and my dear little house. I have been away
so very long!'

‘
If it seems so long, I have nothing more to say,' Roberta
said with a smile. 'No, truly, I quite understand your wanting
to see the children again. But why not leave Mathilde with
me? I'm sure she would like to go to Brighton, since all her
new friends will be there.'

‘
Oh, but I could not impose on you,' Héloïse said. 'You
have been put to so much trouble already.'

‘
No trouble in the world,' Roberta said serenely. ‘Mathilde
is company for me, and I love to have an excuse to look at new
gowns and bonnets, and go to balls. She is a dear girl, and I
love having her,' she went on firmly as Héloïse tried to
protest, 'and Bobbie would be quite heartbroken if she were
to leave now. He wants her to stay with us for ever. His latest
plan is for her to marry Mr Firth, so that she need not go away.'

‘
In that case,' Héloïse said, laughing, 'I have nothing more
to say, but thank you. She shall stay with you until you tire of
her, and if Bobbie cannot make her a match in that time I
shall be very surprised!’

 
It was Kithra who reached Héloïse first when she stepped
down from the carriage outside her house. Frantic with joy,
he reared up on his hind legs, which made him about the
same height as her, pinned her against the side of the chaise,
and licked her face and pushed his cold nose into her ear until
Stephen arrived to drag him off.

‘
I beg your pardon, my lady. He said it was you, and
scratched at the door and whined like a mad thing, but I
wouldn't have let him out if I'd thought it was. Welcome
back, my lady.'

‘
Thank you, Stephen. I would have sent you notice, but it
would not have arrived before me in any case. Is everything in
order? Is everyone well?'

‘
Pretty much so, my lady. Here, you boy, be careful what
you do with that box! Shall I pay the postboys, my lady?'
Stephen said tactfully, since Héloïse seemed too preoccupied
with gazing at her house to remember them.

‘
Oh, yes! of course — here is my purse. Oh Stephen, it is so
good to be back! London was very pleasant, but so noisy and
dirty and crowded. Here everything smells so good. Ah, here
is my darling Flon at last!’

She picked up her skirts and ran to be embraced by her old friend, who first shed a tear or two, and then eyed her clothes
keenly. 'That is a London pelisse, every line proclaims it! Very elegant, my love, and a killing colour!'

‘
It is the fashion this year,' Héloïse said. 'And what do you
think of my hat?'

‘
Delightful, except that you sewed on that ribbon yourself,
and did it very ill, as usual,' Flon said shrewdly. 'I shall take it
off and do it for you before you wear it again.’

Héloïse laughed. 'Dear Flon, you always see everything!
No-one in London noticed. But you are looking well, I am
glad to say. Have the children been good?'

‘Perfect angels,' Flon asserted, which was what Héloïse
knew she would say, whether they were or not. But now the news of her arrival had permeated the house, and here were
the children running out to her, followed by the rest of the
servants. Was that really her little Sophie, grown two inches
at least since she went away?

‘
Maman, Maman, you've come at
last!'
Sophie cried
passionately, flinging her arms round her mother's waist and
gazing up at her with a face grown suddenly bony, and a gap
in her smile that brought absurd tears to Héloïse's eyes.
‘Kithra said you were never coming back again, and I told
him and told him, but he wouldn't believe me.'

‘Did he tell you so himself?' Héloïse laughed.

‘
Oh, yes. He talks to me all the time. Nobody else under
stands him.'

‘You've lost a tooth.'

‘
Kithra wagged it out. But it was loose anyway. Flon
shewed me how to bury it in the garden under a rose-bush,
and in the morning there was a silver thimble there.' Sophie
glanced sideways to see if Flon were listening and whispered
importantly, 'She said the rose-fairy left it, but I think it was
her.
Was it, Maman?'