Different Tides (20 page)

The children inspected her before she went downstairs to where the men waited with Julia.

Zachariah’s eyes widened as she descended, and when he took her hand in his and kissed it, saying, ‘You look lovely,’ she felt the colour float gently into her cheeks like a soft pink cloud.

She might look lovely, Clementine thought, but Alexandra looked exquisite as she drifted down the stairs in a blue gown that displayed most of her shoulders – one that put Clementine firmly in the shade and widened Zachariah’s eyes even further. She had a white fur collar over her arm, which she handed to Zachariah with a simper, presumably to place around her shoulders so he could view her charms up close. Did she think to make a servant out of him?

Clementine wished she had the courage to be so artful.

Evan descended the stair last, brush in hand to make sure his master and his gentleman friend were free of any last-minute lint to mar the perfection of their cutaway jackets.

Both wore freshly starched cravats. Zachariah’s hair was parted in the middle and fell below his ears in a tumble of unruly waves. He was an exceedingly handsome and well-formed man. So was John Beck, though his hair was streaked with grey and his complexion was taking on that rough outdoors texture that came with age for most men.

Zachariah handed the cape to Evan. ‘See to Miss Tate first. Mrs Beck tells me I need to hire a ladies’ maid on a temporary basis, something I should have thought of myself. I know someone who runs an employment agency, and if he’s there this afternoon I’ll ask him to recommend someone for the position.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Beside her, Julia sucked in a breath. ‘I cannot remember you buying that gown, Alexandra. In fact, I distinctly remember us discussing it and coming to the conclusion that it was far too expensive.’

Alexandra smiled. ‘I believe it was you who reached that conclusion. But I couldn’t resist it so I changed my mind and I took the green travelling gown back and exchanged it.’ She turned to Zachariah, her eyelids gently fluttering. ‘I know I’ve presumed on your kindness, sir, and beg your indulgence. I do hope you’ll forgive me.’

How prettily she said it. Clementine felt like sticking a dagger between her shoulder blades. No, not one dagger but a dozen! More than that, she’d like to slow cook her on a spit over a fire like a suckling pig.

The power of Clementine’s imaginary revenge was so fierce that she almost smiled with the pleasure it offered her to just think it. Then she reprimanded herself as she recognized she was seething with jealousy, which was not a positive trait to encourage.

Zachariah shrugged, as offhand as his manners would allow. ‘It’s only a gown, Julia. As Miss Tate is very well aware, she needs no enhancement and would look just as enchanting in a gown made of sackcloth and ashes.’

Hah!
she thought. Removing Alexandra from the spit, she impaled the immaculate Zachariah there instead.

When he smiled at her, however, she forgave him. Moving to her side when John went on ahead with Alexandra and his wife, he said, ‘You’ll be travelling in my carriage with Miss Tate. Come along, Clemmie, else we won’t get there until it’s time to return home.’

Alexandra had seated herself comfortably in the middle of the seat, her skirt arranged so it wouldn’t crease.

Zachariah handed Clementine in and took the seat beside her. ‘I hope you are comfortable, ladies. Considering you had no maid you both look very becoming. An oversight on my part, I’m afraid. I must hire one for the duration of your visit, Alexandra.’

‘Evan offered to help me out,’ Clementine ventured.

‘How very droll to use a valet as a ladies’ maid,’ Alexandra cooed.

‘Not at all. Evan used to work in a theatre and he has many skills. You should ask him to tell you about it. He can be very entertaining.’

‘I used Polly as a maid for my hair. She’s inexperienced, but fashions a reasonable style. After all, it doesn’t need two servants to care for two small children. Oh, I forgot, Clementine … you’re not a servant are you? But you said you received an allowance. If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly is the description of your position here?’

This was going to evolve into a right royal argument if she wasn’t careful, but still she said, ‘I do mind you asking since I’ve already informed you of it.’

Zachariah leaned forward. ‘Clementine is my guest. She also tutors my wards and provides a maternal presence for them. For that service alone she is worth her weight in gold. I would suggest that you desist from being too inquisitive, or jumping to wrongful conclusions, Miss Tate.’

‘My pardon. I wasn’t suggesting …’ Alexandra turned to gaze out of the window, flags of colour burning her cheeks.

Clementine felt sorry for her and said to him, ‘Between us we have made Alexandra uncomfortable. I’m sure she didn’t intend to be inquisitive. Perhaps we should just drop this particular subject.’

Zachariah shot her an exasperated look.

Unexpectedly, Alexandra agreed with him, but her voice contained a faint nuance of hurt. ‘Mr Fleet is right. I was being inquisitive, but I was trying to get to know you a little better.’

He sighed. ‘My pardon if I upset you, Miss Tate.’

‘I’m sure I deserved it.’

‘No … Clemmie was right to take me to task.’

Zachariah was not a man who was naturally inclined to indulge in small talk. They made the short journey to Dorchester mostly in silence, a slight atmosphere making conversation awkward.

The carriage conveying the Becks followed on behind them.

When they reached their destination he alighted first and helped them down. Alexandra flowed down the carriage steps supported with the lightest of touches on his hand.

Clementine trod on the hem of her skirt and she stumbled. Zachariah spanned her waist with his hands and lifted her down, as if she weighed nothing at all. ‘I have you safe, my little gadfly,’ he said, his whisper designed for her ears alone. When their eyes met for a moment and he smiled, an indescribable awareness shivered through her.

From the moment they entered the room Alexandra became the focus of all eyes, which she took as her due.

Clementine was familiar with some of the people there – part of the congregation of the same church. They exchanged smiles and made small talk as Clementine introduced Alexandra to their host, Emma Cheeves, whose husband presided over a bank.

‘How lovely to welcome yet another guest from Martingale House. My goodness, Mr Fleet does seem to collect an assortment of beautiful young ladies. You must be a relative because you remind me somewhat of the female side of the former baron’s family. Don’t you think so, Miss Morris?’

Clementine didn’t see how two people could be described as an assortment, and the reference to the baron’s family triggered an elusive vision of a face, one that left her mind immediately. Besides which, Zachariah wouldn’t like his business to be discussed in public.

‘Oh, as to that I couldn’t really say. I’ve never met any of Mr Fleet’s family except his nephew and niece.’

‘Always so discreet, Miss Morris. One wonders what you really do at Martingale House. So mysterious … are you connected to the family?’

Clementine felt uncomfortable at being the centre of attention. Next to her Alexandra gave a light laugh. ‘I’ve been given to understand that Clementine was resident in a workhouse, and she didn’t even know Mr Fleet until a few months ago.’

The woman tossed her a look laced with scorn and her voice took on a ring of authority. ‘What exactly
is
your position in the household then, Miss Morris?’

How smug Alexandra sounded when she murmured, ‘I’ve asked her that myself. Miss Morris is paid for her services and she doesn’t understand that accepting payment makes one a servant.’

Clementine could have pointed out to her that the fancy gown Alexandra wore had been paid for by Zachariah, but she didn’t, for he’d be angry at the thought of being the object of such gossip.

‘It wouldn’t have happened in Sir Gabriel’s day. Now there was a gentleman with charm – too much at times, but he always treated a lady as one should be treated, and the servants were reminded of their place from time to time.’

‘The same servants still live at Martingale House, and are part of the family now. Mr Fleet said they know their jobs without him constantly reminding them,’ Clementine told them.

One of the women asked in a more kindly manner, ‘How are your young charges keeping, Miss Morris? They are such dear children … a tragedy that they lost their parents.’

The thought of the children made Clementine want to smile, but she didn’t. She was upset, and felt like crying, so she choked out, ‘They are recovering well from their grief at the loss of their mother and father. Like most children they respond well to love.’

Alexandra gave a tinkling laugh. ‘I try to mother them a little when Miss Morris is attending to her other duties. The children can be naughty, but they get their own way too often, I fear, and that isn’t wise. Were they my children they would be disciplined more often. And really, who has heard of children eating breakfast with the adults in the dining room?’

‘How very bizarre. Spare the rod and spoil the child, I say.’ Mrs Cheeves nodded wisely.

Clementine’s ears began to burn, but with anger rather than anything else.

‘Perhaps you’d like to walk the length of the room with me, Miss Tate. You must meet my son. He is following in his father’s footsteps and will become a partner in his father’s bank before too long. Are you staying in the district for long?’

‘Just until a family legacy has been proved, then I’ll return to Portsmouth, or London I imagine … Unless I meet someone suitable and wed them in the meantime.’

‘You have admirers then?’

‘One or two.’ The pair turned their backs on her and drifted away, heading for Basil Cheeves, a pale-faced young man with a long chin.

Julia joined her. ‘I heard all of that exchange. Far be it for me to think ill of anyone, but that young woman is extremely forward and very conceited.’ Julia placed a cup of warm, spiced wine in her hands. ‘Here, my dear, this will chase away the winter chills.’

‘Thank you, Julia.’

‘Zachariah will not like this.’

‘Please don’t tell him, Julia. He will only look on it as a petty women’s matter.’

‘My dear … Zachariah may be reserved by nature, but very little gets past him. He sees you here, alone and distressed, and shivering like an abandoned kitten – as he poetically put it. He sent me to rescue you. Soon the news will circulate; he’ll see the glances turn your way as people speculate over your relationship with him.’

‘And they will think the worst.’

‘For himself he won’t care what they think. He will care about how it affects you though, and if the gossip continues he’ll do something about it.’

‘What can he do? You can’t stop people from gossiping.’

‘I daresay he will think of something. He knows the power of his position in the community here. If he walked out and took his house guests with him it would cause Mrs Cheeves a great deal of embarrassment. She might even be ostracized.’

‘He must not … not over me. It would be too cruel, for when he returns to London I will have nobody to be my champion.’

The small orchestra filed in and the guests moved towards the seats. Alexandra seated herself with Mrs Cheeves in the front row, the skirt of her gown a shining swathe of silk. Basil Cheeves was staring at her, an expression of admiration on his face, and something else. There was something reptilian in his slightly bulging eyes and the flickering tip of his tongue that he frequently used to dampen his lower lip. Clementine shuddered.

Relief washed over her when Zachariah and John gazed across the crowd of heads. Julia waved to them and they seated themselves either side, with John on her side and Zachariah on Julia’s.

‘Miss Tate is sitting with our hostess,’ Julia informed them.

‘So she is. Mrs Cheeves is always at the fore when welcoming a new arrival to the district, and just as quick to discard them if they don’t measure up.’ Zachariah leaned forward. ‘You look flushed, Clemmie. Has something upset you?’

‘No … it was the mulled wine. I drank it rather quickly and it brought the blood rushing to my face.’

He smiled at that. ‘Are you warm enough now?’

She nodded, charmed by his smile and the infinite hyacinth blue of his eyes. The warmth she experienced had hidden depths and a repertoire of private sins that she wished she could experience with him, and without censure.

The orchestra tuned up with a multitude of uncoordinated squeaks and scrapes that sounded nothing like music. It made her wince. Then a thread of melody emerged from a violin to shimmer like a firefly in the air. Everyone fell quiet.

Clementine gazed at the programme. Schumann, Bach, Brahms and Strauss. She’d never heard music played by professional players, and had difficulty pronouncing the names of the composers in her mind, but the music turned out to be as exquisite as it was sensual, and it played upon her emotions, so sometimes she smiled and sometimes a tear rolled down her cheek.

When the concert was over, she asked Zachariah, ‘Am I allowed to keep the programme?’

‘I expect so. Why do you want it?’

‘To place in my treasure box. I keep my memories in it.’

‘Memories?’

‘I’ve never been to a concert before and might never go to one again, so when I’m old I’ll be able to look at the programme and remember this particular concert.’

‘I should have thought of that. Every young lady should have a treasure box. I must give you a memento to keep in it.’

‘You’re teasing me.’

‘I like teasing you.’

‘I’m not likely to forget you, Zachariah.’ As soon as the words left her mouth she realized she’d been too personal and wished she could recall them.

His glance met hers and the buzz in the room faded into the background when he said, ‘Thank you, Clemmie. That’s the nicest remark anyone’s ever offered me.’

‘I didn’t mean it to sound so personal.’

‘A pity.’ He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it.

The noise resumed. Somebody laughed, glasses chinked.