Different Tides (22 page)

‘You said this doesn’t look like the home you’d like to live in. What does your ideal home look like, Zachariah?’

He turned, appearing surprised by the question. ‘I don’t know … happier, I suppose.’

‘Explain happier.’

‘This room was where my father dished out his punishment. I can sense his presence here. I often wonder if it’s haunted.’

Her blood ran cold. ‘But you still come in here.’

‘He’s dead and I’m grown up so I’m no longer afraid of him.’

‘But you sense him here and you don’t like it.’

‘I have no answer to that except to say he can no longer hurt me.’ Crossing to the desk he picked up a book. ‘
Robinson Crusoe
. I read this as a child and thought it would do for Edward.’ He put it down again and his eyes engaged hers. ‘What do you think?’

‘Edward will have to wait until he’s a little older and can read fluently. You’re changing the subject, Zachariah. You often do when the conversation gets more personal. I think you should stop prowling around the room like a caged lion and sit down. My head is swivelling like that of an owl.’

Seating himself in the opposite chair, he grinned. ‘I don’t like being subjected to a personal inquisition. Besides, I’ve told you all you need to know. I prefer to keep some in reserve in case I need to draw on it. So do you. Have you told me all about Clementine Morris?’

‘You’re the most difficult man to engage in small talk. You hide behind a façade of prickles. Can you think of anything that took place in this room that made you happy?’

Head to one side, he regarded her with a smile. ‘I think I first kissed you in this room.’

‘It was in the nursery.’

‘What about the other kisses: didn’t they make an impression on you?’

‘Not at all.’

‘Perhaps I should kiss you again.’

She tried not to smile. ‘And perhaps you shouldn’t.’

‘Scared?’

Far from it; she would welcome his kiss if she thought it would mean anything to him. ‘I can’t afford to get involved. You’ve seen how it is for me here. The local people are already making my life almost intolerable.’

‘As I recall, wasn’t that kiss in the nursery meant for the children?’

‘You’d be a fool to think I believed that, Zachariah. You’re not a fool and neither am I. Didn’t anyone ever kiss or hug you when you were a child?’

He shook his head. ‘This house – and especially this room – didn’t represent love or affection in any form.’

‘You should change it. Look how dirty and smoked-stained the ceilings are. Painting them will brighten them and allow the detail to emerge. Get rid of the gloomy furniture, the saggy old chairs and the dark and dirty wallpaper. Make what you will of it and change it.’

‘Is it that simple to get rid of a lifetime of neglect? No, don’t answer that, Clemmie, else you’ll put a twist on it and make it too personal again. You have my permission to refurbish this room to your liking after I go back to London. It will give you something useful to do and you might even paint over my unhappy youth. I’ll tell Mr Bolton to get some pattern books and carpet samples. He will know where to employ the best tradesmen for the job.’

She gazed around her, knowing she would enjoy the task. ‘Will you tell me what colours you prefer?’

‘You choose.’ His mouth twisted in a rueful smile. ‘What did Edward have to say about his parents?’

‘Ah … I wondered when you’d get around to that. When I told Edward his parents would be proud of him, he said that we were his parents now and he loved us better than his own parents. He was angry because they died, then wondered if they were still alive. He suggested that perhaps they hadn’t wanted them, so had run away.’

‘I see.’

‘You have doubts about the children, don’t you?’

He nodded.

Her heart reached out to the children. ‘What will you do if …?’

‘John asked me that and I told him I didn’t know. I still don’t, but I’ve been thinking about it.

‘I promised Edward that he and Iris would always have a home here, but that was before the doubt had set in. In all conscience, I cannot go back on that promise. There’s no reason why they couldn’t live here under my care and be educated to earn a living, as long as they don’t have unreasonable expectations as to their status. Besides, I’m getting used to the little tykes and I quite like them.’

‘You seem to have an instinct for fathering.’

He grinned. ‘I’m doing my best, but I think I know how
not
to bring them up rather than how to. Shall we go and eat some more breakfast? I didn’t have time for anything but a spoonful of porridge before we went out.’

‘You achieved quite a lot on that spoonful in church.’

He laughed.

They rose at the same time and gazed at each other. He reached out and curled a wisp of her hair around his finger. ‘I do love that little curl.’

‘Zachariah, no,’ she said, but it was a half-hearted protest because he was as transparent as glass.

‘I just want to know what a hug in this room feels like.’ He drew her against him and held her there, her head resting on his shoulder. She breathed him in, her mouth resting lightly against his jaw. A minute later he turned her face up to his and kissed her. It was a gentle and loving caress.

Neither of them heard the knock at the door and they sprang apart when Edward said, ‘What are you doing?’

‘Miss Clemmie had some dust in her eye. I was kissing it better.’

‘Mrs Ogden sent me to tell you that breakfast is ready.’

‘Has your eye improved sufficiently, Miss Clemmie?’

He had tripped himself up and she giggled. ‘I can see perfectly now.’

When they entered the dining room, Julia said, ‘You look flushed, my dear. I hope you’re not suffering from a fever.’

The children managed to slip into the seats on either side of Zachariah, who accepted from Mrs Ogden two plates with a small rasher of lean bacon, a coddled egg and fingers of bread fried to a crisp.

Tucking Iris’s napkin under her chin, he gazed round at them all. ‘Reverend Cuthbert’s sermon must have whipped her into a ferment.’

John chuckled. ‘That sounds promising. What was the sermon about?’

‘I have no idea … Miss Clemmie?’

Iris said, ‘Miss Clemmie pretended she was praying. But she was really thinking about Edward and me.’

‘Aha!’ John said, laughter in his voice. ‘I hope they were good thoughts.’

‘Yes, sir. Miss Clemmie tells us we must always think good thoughts.’

‘How utterly boring of her,’ Alexandra said with just enough laughter in her voice to render the remark inoffensive.

Zachariah chuckled. ‘I’m inclined to agree with you, Alexandra, though sometimes I’d like to know what’s going on in her head.’

So … he was using Alexandra’s first name now. Well, why shouldn’t he? After all, her half-sister was Zachariah’s guest. Not hers. Half-sister? She had tried to find some kinship in their relationship and had failed.

Alexandra sent him a smile. ‘Nothing devious, I’d imagine. I’m sorry. I was late in rising. I missed going to church with you.’

‘I thought the service was quite interesting today, didn’t you, Miss Clemmie?’

‘Totally absorbing.’

‘What can I get you for breakfast?’

Zachariah Fleet
. Where were these thoughts coming from? Clementine had never been interested in men before, and the jumble of shocking thoughts and physical reactions she experienced when she was in the presence of Zachariah Fleet was bewildering. What’s more she had lost her appetite.

‘Just some preserved fruit.’

Alexandra said, ‘Goodness, is that all? You eat hardly anything.’

‘I eat enough to satisfy my appetite. I’ve already had some oatmeal.’

Alexandra was sitting under the portrait of the late baron and his wife. The colours were brighter after the wash it had received from Mrs Ogden, and the scribble was gone.

John Beck was looking at it too. Then his gaze lowered to Alexandra and moved up again.

Clementine gazed at the picture in puzzlement. The resemblance between Alexandra and the woman on the portrait was marked.

Then Zachariah set the bowl of fruit in front of her and she could feel his breath warm against her scalp. His mouth on hers, so warm and tender, was a vivid and irresistible memory she could barely ignore.

She hadn’t wanted her life to be complicated by falling in love with Zachariah. He was a man like any other, and with the same appetites. If she allowed him to, he would take her into his bed and use her, then leave, as had the men in her mother’s life. If she stayed she’d be too weak to resist him, her only security being some man’s mistress instead of being paid for by the hour by different men.

Oh yes, she knew what her mother had been involved in. She’d pretended not to know because she didn’t want her judged by others. And while she’d loved her mother, that didn’t mean she wanted to end up like her.

Perhaps it was time she moved on, like she had in her previous employment. She couldn’t go back to the workhouse in London, because that would be the first place he’d look for her, if he bothered to look for her at all. She would wait and see what happened with the legacy. Now she’d noticed the resemblance between Alexandra and the woman in the portrait, she was almost certain who would be the beneficiary of the legacy.

Zachariah must know whose daughter Alexandra was, since his sharp eyes wouldn’t have missed the significance of the resemblance, but did Alexandra know? Probably not, else she’d be even more insufferable than she was already.

Clementine decided not to think past that at the moment. Zachariah was being cautious. He would do nothing until he was sure of his ground.

Not for one moment could Clementine imagine that she and Alexandra were related. They were nothing alike. She was curious though, because she’d never known her father and couldn’t picture him.

When she thought of leaving Zachariah she fell into a dark yawning place where there was no light or softness. And when she thought of leaving the children as well, her heart began to bleed and she was afraid for them.

His nearness brought the blood to her face again.

‘Are you sure you’re not coming down with a fever?’ Julia said.

‘Positive.’

‘Miss Clemmie had dust in her eyes and Uncle Zachariah was ki—’

Zachariah scraped his chair back along the wooden floor and leapt to his feet. ‘Those dogs are under the table. Come out of there, you scrounging hounds. You know you’re not allowed to be there. Quickly, Edward! Grab Wolf’s collar and we’ll take them out.’

The pair of them dived under the table, where a kerfuffle of sounds, knocks and mild curses went on. The dogs escaped, scrabbling across the floor and shooting through the door. They nearly knocked Mrs Ogden off her feet when she came in.

‘I’ll be blessed,’ she said and shouted after them, ‘Don’t you critters go and annoy Cook now.’

The scuffling under the table carried on after the dogs had departed.

Clementine tried not to laugh, but she couldn’t help it when Julia exchanged a significant look with her.

Lifting the tablecloth Clementine said, ‘Gentlemen, you can come out now; the dogs have made their escape.’

Zachariah and Edward took their seats, breathing heavily from the exercise – Edward’s inappropriate conversation now diverted, but not overlooked by those who’d picked up the significance of his slip, for Julia and John were smiling at each other and Alexandra had a frown forked between her brow.

The day had been cold and crisp and the dogs stretched out in front of the nursery fire, their eyelids twitching open now and then in case they missed something, or their legs moving as if they were chasing rabbits in their dreams. They were almost fully grown now – at least, Clementine hoped so, but they were still bursting with the energy of their puppyhood.

As evening fell the frost became a thick white blanket that covered the furrows of ploughed earth. There, the seeds lay dormant, waiting for the warm stirring of spring to wake them.

The sky was filled with stars and the moon rode high, a glowing orb circled by a halo of light that pushed its rays out into the reaches of a velvety dark sky.

‘Is the sky heaven, Miss Clemmie?’

‘It looks like it might be, since the stars are so pretty.’

‘Mr Bolton said that there’s a rhyme that goes: “A ring around the moon is a sign of rain soon”.’

Iris sighed as they gazed at it. ‘It looks like fairyland and I don’t want it to rain because then we have to stay indoors.’

A star shot across the sky and the children cried out with delight.

‘Quickly, close your eyes and make a wish.’

‘I wished the cook would make one of those apple cakes.’

Clementine grinned at the girl. That was a wish bound to come true.

‘What about you, Edward?’

‘I wished I could go up to heaven and say hello to my mama and papa.’

Not such an easy wish to fulfill. She scrambled for something he’d like to hear. ‘If you remember them in your prayers, the angels will leave your message on a star, and they’ll be happy.’

‘I’ve made a book for Uncle Zachariah. It’s a bogafree – the story of my life, and nobody else is allowed to read it so it’s got SECRET written on the cover.’

She tried not to smile. It would be a short biography. ‘That’s thoughtful of you, Edward. Your uncle will like receiving a gift that you’ve made for him. You can give it to him when he comes up to say goodnight.’

‘I’ve arrived,’ Zachariah said from the doorway and her heart leapt so high that it nearly ended up amongst the stars.

‘Aren’t you chilly by that window?’

‘We were looking at the sky and we saw a shooting star and made a wish. Iris wished for an apple cake and Edward remembered his parents and wished the angels would send them greetings. Come and see how pretty the moon is tonight.’

‘It’s always pretty. What did you wish for, Miss Clemmie?’

‘I’m contented with everything I already have at the moment. It would be greedy of me to ask for more.’

He joined them on the window seat, huffed steamy breath on to the cold surface of the window then wrote their names with his fingers. ‘In the morning the windows will be covered in frosty patterns.’