Different Tides (18 page)

‘I’m not looking for one.’

‘You haven’t considered, though, that one might be looking for you.’

After she’d gone Zachariah chuckled. She was talking nonsense. What an intense little creature she was at times. If she’d had that reaction when he said he liked her, how would she react if he told her he loved her?

Where the hell had that word come from? He must watch his tongue when he was around her from now on, because she would probably believe such a lie. His life was complicated enough at the moment without adding matters of love to the list.

Love or need? Clementine lived in his home. She cared for his wards, ran his household and relied on him. He couldn’t ruin her. Yet the more he saw of her the more he wanted to.

Were he to wed it might as well be her, and that might yet prove to be the case. What he’d said to her was true. He did like her, and she’d cried. But that wouldn’t be enough for her. She would want all of him, his body, his heart and his soul. She’d give him the same in return, for she understood him.

So the question remained. Was it love or was it need?

After a couple of days the snow cleared, much to the children’s disgust.

Zachariah went to the market and came back with a sturdy, but gentle-natured brown pony.

Quivering with excitement Edward was lifted into the saddle. His feet were firmly in the stirrups and his hands gripped a leather strap across the pony’s back. Zachariah attached the animal and its burden to a leading rein.

Clementine and Iris watched from the window seat on the landing window and Zachariah led the pony up and down the carriageway, allowing Edward to get used to the motion.

‘Will Uncle Zachariah teach me to ride?’

‘One day, when you’re older, I expect. Ladies have special saddles, I believe. They don’t ride like men do, but sideways.’

‘That’s silly. How will they know what’s in front of them?’

She grinned, imagining Zachariah trying to find a reason to explain that to a four-year-old girl. ‘You might have to ask your uncle that.’

Alexandra, who’d learned to twist her foster parents around her little finger, didn’t take to instruction easily – despite her strict upbringing. Agreeing with them had usually resulted in her getting her own way.

Zachariah Fleet had left a certain amount of money to clothe her, and she intended to spend every farthing of it on garments of her own choice, despite Julia Beck’s unwanted advice.

The fabrics Alexandra was presented with were sumptuous. The gowns she chose for herself were heavy with embroidery, their necklines low on the shoulder and showing a little of her breasts. Roland would like them; he’d be able to sit and stare all he liked.

But she had underestimated the determination of her hostess. Julia Beck was horrified by her choice and discarded them one by one. ‘Come, come, Miss Tate, that type of neckline is unsuitable for day wear, especially in these cold months. You will need something practical and warm for every day.’

‘I will purchase this little fur shoulder cape with the matching muff. And just look at that pretty embroidered bag. There are evening pumps to match. How sweet.’

Bustling with annoyance, Julia reminded her she was holding the purse strings. ‘They are too expensive. I cannot allow you to take advantage of Mr Fleet’s generous nature to that extent. We will buy gowns suitable for day-to-day wear, and a modest gown for entertaining.’

‘Of course we will. But they are all so pretty and the neckline of this ball gown will enhance my shoulders.’

‘There will be precious few balls at Martingale. Mr Fleet prefers a quiet life when he’s in the country.’

‘Don’t be vexed with me, Mrs Beck. I’m only teasing you.’

To save arguments Alexandra allowed Julia Beck to choose the travelling gown. It was olive green, a hideous colour that made Alexandra’s complexion look muddy. What was more, it was made of thick material. It was as if the woman had picked that gown deliberately and for that very reason.

These Quaker people were so dull in their choice of clothing, Alexandra thought, though she kept her counsel. The gowns she’d chosen for herself were no more shocking than any other normal woman wore. She didn’t see why she shouldn’t have something pretty. She intended to have her way in the matter of the ball gown and one of two other things, and had noticed that Mrs Beck kept all the invoices together in a small compartment in the bureau.

The day before they were due to leave for the country Alexandra feigned a headache when Julia and her husband went to bid farewell to their children.

‘Oh, I do hope you’re going to be all right for the journey.’

‘I’ll be perfectly all right in the morning, I promise.’

As soon as her hosts had gone, Alexandra packed the green travelling outfit and a burgundy taffeta gown she didn’t particularly like, and she took them back to the dressmaker’s premises, where the fawning proprietor was only too eager to change them for more expensive garments. She added the pumps and handbag, then the muff and cape.

‘Place it on Mr Fleet’s account, please.’

‘I will need Mrs Beck’s signature.’

‘Oh … of course you do. Did I forget to tell you? Mrs Beck is suffering from a headache, and her instructions were to bring the invoice back with me. We’re leaving for the country tomorrow, where we will join Mr Fleet.’ She smiled. ‘It’s a secret, but I’m sure I can trust you with it. I wanted something special, you see.’ She shrugged. ‘It
is
for a celebratory occasion, but I promised not to tell anyone. You do understand, don’t you? If you won’t let me sign for it then I’ll have to cancel the sale. I admired it the first time I saw it, and considered it to be a wonderful gown to be wed in. You’re such a clever and artistic designer, Mrs Spencer, and I will recommend you to all my friends.’

A smile crossed the woman’s face. ‘I always think that my customers deserve the best I can do. Mrs Beck has always been a good client of mine and her recommendation has brought a new clientele to my door, so I’ll trust her on this.’

Alexandra managed to get the clothing indoors before Julia and John Beck came home. She went to the bureau first and placed the invoice in the middle of the bundle.

When she packed the gown in her trunk she stroked her hand gently over the lace-edged tiers of blue silk. No doubt there would be a stink when the deception was discovered, but she would handle that when it happened.

She was not looking forward to the journey, though it would be a little more comfortable by private carriage if the weather held out and there were only a few ruts to contend with.

There was a faintly awkward atmosphere inside the carriage, though the Becks were exceedingly polite. Julia chattered about nothing, until Alexandra felt like screaming. Couldn’t the woman see she was shivering with the cold?

When she alighted from the coach at one of the inns and mud splashed on her skirt from a passing vehicle, Julia remarked rather caustically, as though she’d discovered her deceit, ‘Oh, such a pity. You should have worn the travelling gown for the journey. It’s more serviceable … and the mud would have brushed off. Also it would have been warmer. I’ll see if I can find a thick shawl in my luggage for you to wear.’

Julia Beck might chatter, but both she and her husband had been evasive when it had come to answering questions about Mr Fleet. Nevertheless, Alexandra tried to strike up a conversation about him.

‘Have you known Mr Fleet long?’

The two of them looked at each other and smiled before John said, ‘We’ve known him for many years, and we’re business partners. He’s a good man.’

‘Mr Fleet must have been a child when you first knew him then.’

‘Yes, I suppose he must have been.’

She said outright, ‘You seem very close; are you related to him?’

They would not be drawn. ‘Zachariah is as dear to us as our own sons,’ John said smoothly, and changed the subject. ‘Have you been to the country before, Miss Tate?’

She gazed out at the stubbly brown fields that were enclosed within hedges of woven sticks. They had very little foliage. Then there were the stark outlines of leafless trees stabbing crooked fingers against a drab grey sky. Sinister black birds circled the copse like witches on broomsticks, and her heart dropped. She hadn’t expected the country to be so sparse and unappealing.

It reminded her of her life so far: drab.

Eventually their destination came into view, a sizeable house topping a gentle rise, and wrapped in a copse of trees. The house seemed to be isolated in the middle of nowhere, if one was to ignore a small village they’d passed through. She’d learned that Zachariah Fleet owned property in London, too, so he was a man with considerable wealth.

How different it would have been had her mother kept her. She might have grown up in a house like this one and her stepfather would have been a baron, not a simple tutor. Surely that would have given her a better advantage in life.

John Beck had asked her if she’d been to the country before. No, she’d never been to the country, and whatever happened, she doubted if she’d be staying long. Not that she had anywhere to go, but there was always Roland if her plans came to naught.

A housekeeper came from the front door, bobbed a curtsy and let them in. A couple of men came from the stables, unpacked the luggage and followed them inside while the carriage horses were turned about and led towards the stables.

The front door had barely closed around them when the tall figure of Zachariah Fleet came down the stairs, a smile on his face. ‘John … Julia. How pleasant to see you again. I hope the journey wasn’t too tedious.’

Julia kissed him on both cheeks. ‘Isn’t it always tedious? But it’s worth the trial of the journey to see you at the end of it.’

His glance came her way, blue and impersonal. ‘Miss Tate, welcome to Martingale House. We’ll do our best to make you comfortable while you’re here. Come into the drawing room, all of you. My housekeeper will be along shortly.’

Alexandra wondered where her half-sister was as she looked around the comfortable drawing room with its blue furnishings and darker blue and silver patterned wallpaper.

Inside the house was warm and welcoming, and there was the smell of freshly baked bread coming from the kitchen that made her stomach rumble. She pressed her hands against it.

Somewhere in the upper reaches of the house came the sound of a giggle and the patter of feet. A dog barked.

‘Be quiet, Happy.’

There was a hushed, but loud whisper. ‘Come back, Iris. We have to wait until we’re called, then Miss Clemmie will take us down.’

‘But Happy’s gone downstairs.’

‘I expect he’s gone to the kitchen to see what he can scrounge.’

A woman’s voice this time: ‘Iris … come back up at once. Your hands and face need a wash and your hair is untidy.’

A faint smile touched her host’s lips as he gazed at Julia. ‘The children are excited at meeting you, but I’ll allow you to settle in first. And you can meet them at breakfast tomorrow morning.’

So, Zachariah Fleet was a married man with children. Alexandra imagined he’d be a strict father, and his wife would be cowed.

‘How can you be so cruel when you know I’m eager to see them?’ Julia grumbled, and then gazed from one man to the other when they laughed. ‘There, you rascally creatures, you were teasing me. I knew it.’

‘They will be down soon and I will introduce you to them, Julia.’

A short time later a knock came at the door and a young woman entered, ushering two children in front of her. Her gaze went directly to Zachariah Fleet and her welcoming smile was reflected in her eyes. He went to her side as if drawn there. ‘This is my nephew and niece, Edward and Iris, who are also my wards.’

They looked like a family posing for a portrait until Iris dipped into a wobbly curtsy and spoiled the illusion.

‘You’re not supposed to do that until the guests have been introduced,’ Edward said as he manoeuvred himself into position against his uncle’s leg and gazed up at him, the hero worship in his eyes plain for all to see.

When Zachariah Fleet ruffled the lad’s hair he smiled at being the recipient of special attention, however small.

The young woman placed a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle, and Zachariah Fleet grinned at her. ‘It was a pretty curtsy all the same, don’t you agree, Miss Clemmie?’

‘Fit for royalty to receive.’

Alexandra revised her earlier opinion. She had not been told about the children, and disappointment settled inside her. It wasn’t that she disliked children, but she didn’t like them all that much either.

‘Children … this is Mr and Mrs Beck, who are my dearest friends.’

Mrs Beck almost pounced on them, her smile full of affection. ‘I’ve been so longing to meet the pair of you. How wonderful. We shall have some jolly times together while we are here.’

Edward bowed over his hand. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs Beck … and you, sir. I’ve got a new pony that I’m learning to ride.’

‘You must show me how well you ride tomorrow.’

Julia wrapped the young woman and the children in a hug. ‘How well you look, my dear, the country air must suit you. Doesn’t Clementine look well, John? And the children are so sweet. Such a pretty little girl with such nice manners, and young Edward is so polite. They are a credit to you, Clementine. Don’t you think so, Zachariah?’

‘I expected no less. The children like her, so they are always on their best behaviour for her.’ Zachariah turned to them. ‘Go upstairs to Polly now, while I get our guests settled.’

‘Is Miss Clemmie coming?’

‘In a little while.’

Clementine blew the children a kiss. ‘I’ll see you before too long.’

The children blew kisses back and headed for the door.

What a nauseating display
, Alexandra thought. If they were her children to look after they wouldn’t be allowed such liberty.

Their host turned to Julia. ‘I’ve given you the usual bedchamber. I think it would be a good idea if we allowed the two young women some privacy.

‘Miss Alexandra Tate, may I introduce you to Miss Clementine Morris, who may or may not be your relation, and who supervises the children. Clementine, Miss Tate has recently suffered bereavement with the death of her foster father. I’ll be in the library with John if you need me.’