Into the Blue (16 page)

‘I shan't give up, Hester. You're upset today and that's only natural. I'll come again later in the week and I feel sure you'll have different thoughts by then.' She heard a warning in his lowered voice before he stepped back, watching her, and then, very slowly, as if playing a part, began to smile in the old friendly manner that she remembered from their childhood. ‘You know you must marry me,' he said very quietly, but with an underlying persistence that she also remembered. Hugh, as a small boy, had never given up.

‘No,' she said hoarsely. ‘No, I won't.'

‘I think you will. It's the only way you can come to terms with the shock you must have caused your parents. The only way to make up for it, doing what they both want. After all, you know that leaving home was the reason for your father's illness, wasn't it?'

A shiver ran through her. ‘Yes.' Her voice was so low that he leaned forward to hear the one word.

‘And you must feel so guilty, Hester. So think about my plan and see how well it would all work out. Your parents relieved, you free of your guilt – and you and I being together, a new life for both of us. Marriage, and then children, and surely that's all any woman really wants?'

‘No,' she said again, with a sob in her voice. ‘No!' she ran back into the house, leaving him alone on the terrace, watching her, nodding his head as if pleased with the evening's work. Then a second later he went towards the stables and found Hoskins waiting to put the cob into the trap, ready for the homeward journey.

 

Somehow Hester survived the remainder of the evening, making excuses for Hugh' s sudden departure and finally ensuring that both parents were comfortably asleep and the house quiet enough for her to think through all that had happened during the day.

She found it impossible to keep still so wandered again through the fragrant garden, watching the bats and the moths and hearing a nightingale somewhere far off making magical music.

Ruby came out to find her. ‘You there, Miss Hester? Anything I can get for you before I go up?'

Hester turned, looked through the half light at the green eyes watching her so intently, and said wearily, ‘No, Ruby, thank you. I just needed some fresh air. I'll lock up when I come in.'

‘Very well, Miss.'

Why did the girl hesitate for a moment before turning away and going back into the house? It was almost too dark to see details but Hester thought she had seen an unexpected look of something – pity? – on the small, pretty face. The idea made her smile tightly, made herself a strong promise to be brighter in the morning, and then slowly go to her bedroom, after a last look at her father. She undressed with a feeling of relief and longed-for sleep.

Perhaps it was the aftermath of all the disturbances that had overwhelmed her during the long day – Father, Nicholas, Hugh – but, as she got into bed and felt the cool comfort of the pillow, tears suddenly came, streaming down her cheeks, choking her breathing, making her sit up and rock to and fro, utterly at the mercy of emotions that were too painful, too powerful for her to even try and control.

She didn't at once hear the soft knock on the door until it was repeated, and Ruby's whisper reached her. ‘Are you all right, Miss Hester?' she was unable to answer.

Another scratching little knock and the door opened a crack. Ruby peered in, her face lit by the candle she carried, saw her, and said, ‘Oh, Miss, whatever's the matter?'

Hester could only shake her head and hold a handkerchief to her streaming eyes.

This was terrible, humiliating, quite awful – to let a servant see how upset she was, how she couldn't stop crying. Still she choked. with sobs racking her body.
She must stop. She must.

Ruby put down the candlestick and sat on the bed, arms around Hester's shoulders.

Her whispers were gentle and comforting. ‘Never mind, Miss, it'll all be better soon. No wonder you're crying – what a day you've had, going off like that and then having to come back when poor Master was took bad ... but never mind, I'll help you deal with everything. You just lie back and dry your tears and try to sleep. I'll sit here till you do.'

And then, as Hester stared aghast and tried to speak, she smiled, a big warm grin that took away all thought of words and persuaded Hester to drop back against the pillow, staring into the bright green eyes that looked so cheerful and unbelievably friendly. ‘Yes, really, Hester. I wants to help you. After all, it's what I'm here for, only you don't know, do you?' Ruby pulled the eiderdown over Hester's shoulders and tucked her arms beneath it.

She sat there, still smiling, and then, very quietly, tried to explain. ‘You see, when my ma was ill and knew she was going, she fished out this bit o' paper and give it me. “Your birth certificate,” she said. “And look, there's no father's name cos you was born illegitimate, but see,
I've pencilled in his name just here – look – can you read it?” '

Ruby paused and slowly her smile disappeared. ‘An' I could,' she went on. ‘An' that's why I come here, Hester, to find you – and the Master – cos I wanted to find my own real place in the world. And, you see, I have ... haven't I?'

A sob ceased in mid breath as Hester gasped. Somehow she pulled herself up, staring at Ruby's triumphant face. Her mind chased around like a merry-go-round, her breath quietening as those words filled her mind. What did Ruby mean?

In the silence binding them she looked into the wide green eyes and was amazed at what she saw there: familiarity, amusement, and then a look of something much more shocking. Power. ‘Go on,' she said unsteadily. ‘Tell me what you read – what it means.'

Like a torn cloth, the words ripped out. ‘Your pa's my pa.'

Hester sucked in a huge breath, gaining the strength to consider this preposterous tale. She didn't believe it, of course not. Ruby was making up a story for her own ends. Father would
never
... . Surely, after Mother died, his need had not been so great? Hester's face tightened distastefully. Great enough to take advantage of a servant? She frowned, thinking back into her childhood and the name of the maid who was in the house then. Ruby was not yet seventeen, so it was easy, according to the date on the certificate, to work out that she herself had been four years of age at the time.
Think back to when Mother was alive. Mrs Caunter was here, but who was the housemaid?

It came in a flash of memory. Ellen, a rather dumpy woman, a maid who was quick on her feet and always running around but who suffered with her breathing. Yes, she could still hear that wheeziness.

A terrible image struck Hester. Could Father really have crept up the attic stairs into snuffly Ellen's bed? The idea grew, pushing aside the disbelief. Had he fathered a child by Ellen? Impossible. But then more memories came, searing her mind: Ellen had suddenly left. Was
Ruby telling the truth, or was this just a wicked lie, intended to dig herself more firmly into the household?

Hester's chest grew tight. Was it a shameful ploy which would make Ruby a daughter of the Redding family, with all the benefits that such a position entailed?

My sister? She can't be. I don't believe a word of it.

Anger was a welcome relief. She glared at the small, triumphant face, and said harshly, ‘You're lying. You're not my father's daughter, you're not my sister—'

‘Half-sister,' Ruby cut in, cat-smile never fading. ‘Ma said I'm your half-sister. The same pa, see, different mothers.'

Hester had no reply. She sat up very straight. For a moment neither of them moved, until slowly Ruby got off the bed, picked up her candlestick, and moved towards the door. She turned, looking back at Hester.

‘Sorry you're upset. I heard you crying and I come down to comfort you – I mean, we're sisters. But you don't feel like that, do you?'

‘No.' Hester spat out the word and watched Ruby's reaction. She expected sharpness and was unprepared for the self-satisfied smile which came instead.

‘P'raps you'll think different in the morning. I hope you sleep all right. Good night, Hester.' Ruby slipped out of the room, firmly closing the door behind her.

Hester lay back, staring at the outline of the window. Outside a waxing moon shone brightly, and a breeze flapped the curtains. She heard an owl in the distance. Thoughts came racing; past memories, present shocks, future anxieties. Sleep eluded her for some time, but finally she drifted off, only to dream of spoiled gardens and ravaged flowers and creatures with gleaming eyes hunting her through the greenery.

Waking early, abruptly she faced the nonsense that Ruby had insisted was the truth. Was she Father's illegitimate daughter? His bastard child? Her sister? Ruby's words echoed, and she frowned; the girl had been so sure.

Sitting up in bed, something caught her eye: a crumpled sheet of what looked like a well-used official document on the bedside table.
Picking it up, knowledge came, sickening and sour. Ruby had come down again last night while she was asleep and put her birth certificate here.

She read it. Ellen Jones's name was clear and so was Ruby's. The mother's address was a back street in the poor part of Newton Abbot. Father's name? Not here – at least, not written in ink in the registrar's own forward sloping hand. No, just a couple of scribbled, pencilled words, misspelt, giving the vital information.

Arther Reding.

Hope filtered through Hester's dismay. This was surely added after the birth had been registered but was it legal? Suddenly she knew exactly what to do: take the document to Hugh and ask his professional advice. Dressing, she paused. He mustn't know exactly why she was asking – she certainly wouldn't show it to him. Think of the shame, of the social reactions if he said it were true. But it wasn't. Even so, she must have Hugh's advice. And if he said this pencilled scribble was illegal, then Ruby's cock-and-bull story could be thrown out of the window.

Heartened, Hester's spirits rose as she went about the morning duties of seeing to Father, helping Stepmother downstairs and waiting for breakfast to finish, at the same time avoiding Ruby's questioning glances and keeping her own eyes fixed on her plate.

When the household was settled, Hester put on her hat and told Stepmother she would be out for an hour. ‘Stepmother, please tell Ruby to look after Father until I return. And I expect Dr Winters will be here soon. I shan't be long.'

She forced Hoskins to race the pony down the lanes, and once in Bovey Tracey she ran down the high street and into the Marchant, Marchant & Forrester offices.

‘I must see Mr Hugh Marchant at once... .' The command in her voice was enough to open all doors, and Hugh quickly appeared.

His voice was friendly, his grin as easy as ever. ‘Why, Hester, this is a very pleasant surprise. Taking me out to luncheon, perhaps? Or planning an afternoon's ramble on the moor? Luckily I'm not too busy at the moment. Come in and sit down.'

She whirled into his room and confronted him across the leather-topped desk.

‘Hugh, I'm not here for any of those reasons. I need your advice.'

The smile faded slowly. ‘Ask away. You know I'll do anything I can to help you, Hester. What's happened? Not bad news about your father, I trust?'

‘No.' For a second she paused. Of course, it might well be bad news – but then she forced herself to think more positively. ‘Is it legal to add a pencilled name to a birth certificate? A name that clearly hasn't been written by the registrar? Yes or no, Hugh.'

She held her breath and stared into his unblinking brown eyes.

He frowned and then said shortly, ‘No, it's not legal.' The frown deepened as he leaned over the desk. ‘What's all this about, Hester? I can't help unless you tell me the details.'

But she was up, running around the desk, throwing her arms around him, kissing his rather scratchy cheek and then heading for the door. ‘Bless you, Hugh, you're wonderful. What would I have done without you? No, don't try and stop me, I have to rush back.' She gave him a last exuberant smile as he followed her to the door and watched her fly up the street, calling over her shoulder, ‘Dr Winters is coming to see Father and I must be there. Goodbye.'

What a relief! Thank goodness! The shadows fell off her shoulders as she climbed into the trap and told Hoskins to hurry home. Now she could face that evil Ruby and tell her just what she thought of her. Hester smiled into the morning sunlight as the pony trotted down the lanes; she tightened her lips and planned to tell Ruby to leave. At once and without a character.
I can't wait to do so.

 

Dr Winters was at Arthur Redding's bedside, his long face unsmiling as he turned to acknowledge Hester's arrival.

‘I'm sorry I'm late, Doctor—'

‘Your maid was here, Miss Redding. She had the good sense to bring Mrs Redding to sit with your father when he became restless. He's quieter now.' One hand on the invalid's pulse, Dr Winters consulted his watch, put it away and then gestured Hester towards the window. He stood, looking at her gravely. ‘Your father is making rather slow progress, Miss Redding. I advise complete rest, and as much nourishing food as he will take, although I fear it may be difficult for him to swallow. Don't disturb him in any way and try to
be cheerful when you are with him. Indeed, any scraps of good news you have would be beneficial. And a few gentle exercises to get the strength back into his arm and leg.'

She nodded, uneasily hearing a mournful warrant for her future in those words, but tried to add a note of optimism into her voice as she said, ‘Yes, Doctor, I'll do all you say.'

‘Don't bother to see me out. Perhaps you could sit with him for a short while. He wakes periodically and needs reassuring.' Another nod, and then a more cheery tone. ‘Good morning, Miss Redding. I'll call again in a few days. But send me a message, should it be necessary.'

Hester let the warning run around her mind as the door closed and she was left alone with her father. Was he going to recover? Her thoughts circled, becoming personal. Forget Father – what about her own life? So much for leaving home, for starting a professional career, for exploring the world. Sitting on the bedside chair she looked at the pale, lined face lying on the pillow, and knew that she must be thankful for this chance to make up for her wickedness in causing Father's seizure.

Perhaps there might sometimes be a few spare minutes in which to think about painting, to sit down with a brush, her paintbox and some flowers, but then reality stepped in, and she knew that all her time was going to be filled. For there was Stepmother to care for as well as Father. The house must be run, the meals carefully organized. No time for flowers or painting them. She must forget that joyous and hopeful passion which had brought such plans, such dreams.

She sighed. And what about Ruby? She shook her head. All that mattered was that Father should recover, which meant that Ruby's horrible little plan must never be divulged. So how should she deal with the matter?

Downstairs the hall clock struck noon, and she got to her feet. Time to consult Mrs Caunter about a meal for the invalid. Time for sherry with Stepmother, while trying to make light of the terrible situation. Hester lifted her head, straightened her shoulders and felt a shift of thinking; time must be found today to have a stern talk with Ruby.

A showdown, that was what was needed. A few well-chosen words,
piercing the evil bubble the girl had blown; then an apology would be demanded, and after that the inevitable dismissal. Hester was smiling as she went downstairs to the kitchen to suggest some beef broth or possibly steamed fish for Father.

And after luncheon – Ruby.

 

It was mid afternoon before the opportunity came to order the girl into the summerhouse, after ensuring that Father was asleep, that Stepmother was resting, and that nothing of any event would happen in the house for the next half hour or so. She met Ruby coming up from the kitchen, on her way to her bedroom to change into her teatime dress, apron and cap, and said briskly, ‘Come with me, please, Ruby. I have something very important to say to you.'

Not waiting for a response, she led the way into the garden and then to the summerhouse, turning and facing the girl as she entered behind her.

‘Now, about this birth certificate and the ridiculous idea that you are my father's natural daughter.' She saw Ruby's eyes widen, watched the small, bow-shaped mouth lose its attraction and become sharper, and realized this was not going to be the plain sailing she had envisaged. She hardened her voice. ‘Ruby, the pencilled name of my father on your certificate does not' – she paused, and then repeated the word, louder – ‘does
not
mean that there is any truth in your mother's claim about him being your father. It is not legal to add a name to a document. I have consulted a solicitor and verified the fact.'

Ruby gasped. And then came the words, rapid, unsteady, aggressive, the country burr more evident than usual. ‘I don't believe it! You'm making it up. Just cos you'm a lady and I'm on'y a workin' girl you think you can get rid of me, well, you won't. I'm gonna tell everybody who I am. I don't care what your solicitor said, my ma said he was my pa, and that's what I believe... .'

Green fire shone out of her eyes and the small face set in a hard mask. Hester stared, shocked. She was unsure how to react, but then Ruby took a step nearer, so close that she was just a breath away.

‘I'm gonna tell your pa – and your stepma – who I am,' she hissed. ‘They'll believe me, even if you don't. You never liked me, always had
that high 'n' mighty sound in yer voice – Ruby this, Ruby that.' The last words were shrill and ugly, and Hester shrank, stepping away further into the summerhouse.

‘I'm yer sister, I tell you, and you're gonna have to treat me different.' Ruby's voice suddenly quietened, her smile triumphant.

They looked at each other, Hester open mouthed and searching for words. Outside, in the garden, Hoskins passed, his wheelbarrow squeaking, and Ruby glanced aside. ‘Needs oiling that does. I'll tell him – I shall give orders now.'

A shutter clicked open in Hester's bewildered mind, and abruptly she knew exactly how to deal with this extraordinary situation. ‘Ruby,' she said quickly, ‘listen to me. We have to understand one another. Yes, I know what you think of me, but you must see things from my point of view, too. Now... .'

She eased herself into a chair and nodded at Ruby to do the same. Slowly the girl obeyed, sitting straight and tense, eyes never leaving Hester's face.

‘I am telling you again that your mother's claim about my father is illegal – it has no truth. This is hard for you, as obviously you've dreamed of becoming his daughter.'

She paused. Ruby's face was drooping as her dreams slowly shattered. The moment grew longer.

I know about shattered dreams
. Hester softened her voice. ‘Tell me about your life before you came here.'