The Sea Between (24 page)

‘Were they profitable?’

‘Average.’ Experience had also taught him that it paid to be noncommittal about profits too, given Eliza’s propensity for spending them.

They fell silent again. While Richard steadily ate his way through the mountain of food on his plate, Eliza slowly ate her way through her potato, slicing finer and finer slivers off it. She eventually finished it and placed her knife and fork on the plate, leaving her beef untouched.

‘Is that all you’re going to eat?’ he asked, frowning.

‘I don’t fancy the beef,’ she said in a tone that immediately made
him give up any thoughts he might have had about insisting that she eat it.

He chewed on his sausage, watching her. During the three years they’d been married, he’d come home from sea to quite a variety of moods and receptions, but he’d never seen Eliza in a mood like this. Her eyes were roaming constantly around the room, as if her thoughts wouldn’t be still, and if she’d licked her lips once she’d licked them fifty times. There was more wrong with her than just a headache.

‘Eliza, what’s the matter? You look worried,’ he said. ‘What is it? Have you overspent your allowance again? Is that it?’

She tightened her lips, looking for a moment more like the Eliza he knew. ‘No, I have not! I’ve kept a record of everything I’ve spent, right down to the last farthing, if you want to see it.’

‘What is it then? I can see something’s troubling you,’ he persisted. ‘Are you worried about these headaches you’ve been having?’

‘Nothing’s troubling me.’ She licked her lips again and looked away, her eyes resuming their restless travels around the room. But after a few moments she looked back and said in a high, tense voice, ‘All right, there is something. I don’t want to go to the farm for Christmas, Richard. I don’t feel well enough.’

He leaned back against his chair and eyed her suspiciously. Eliza was quite open about her dislike of staying at the farm. If she had the choice, she would far rather remain in Lyttelton for Christmas, just the two of them. He wouldn’t put it past her to contrive headaches and sickness as an excuse for them to stay at home.

‘The headaches I’ve been having make me feel sick,’ she continued. ‘I can’t travel long distances if I’m feeling sick. You go, if you want to. I don’t mind staying here on my own. It’s not as if I’m not used to it.’

Ignoring her barbed comment, and well aware that she’d mind very much if he went to the farm without her, he said evenly, ‘I’ll call
on the doctor in the morning and ask him to come and examine you. He might be able to prescribe something that will help.’

‘I don’t want to see him. He’ll only prescribe rest,’ she returned impatiently.

‘Well, if he does prescribe rest, that’s what you’ll have to do,’ he replied. ‘In which case, I’ll ask George to give my mother and John our apologies and explain that you’re not well enough to travel.’

‘Richard, I don’t need you to stay and coddle me! I’m well able to look after myself. God knows, I do so often enough.’ She looked away, biting her lip, then said in a shaky voice, ‘I’m sorry. I oughtn’t to have said that. I’m tired. I’ve not been sleeping well. I’m—’ Clasping her hands to her face, she burst into tears.

Richard stared at her. He was damned if he knew what to make of Eliza. Her moods were swinging all over the place. Scraping his chair back, he walked around the table and crouched beside her chair. ‘Come here. Let me hold you,’ he said gently.

Twisting around, she collapsed on his shoulder and broke down in loud sobs.

Richard wrapped his arms around her. That night Eliza wasn’t the only one who slept poorly.

The following morning, Richard had his first insight into just how ill Eliza had been over the past few weeks, and it was very obvious there was nothing feigned about it. He watched her guiltily as she retched into the porcelain wash-bowl, feeling thoroughly ashamed of himself for doubting her. She’d woken with another headache, complained of feeling dizzy, and within two minutes of getting out of bed had started vomiting.

Deciding it was high time she saw a doctor, Richard walked into town to arrange a house visit. Dr Smythe, however, like most doctors,
was a busy man and it was late afternoon when he finally arrived. Why Eliza hadn’t seen the doctor earlier, Richard couldn’t for the life of him understand. The only thing he could think was that she’d got it into her head that she was seriously ill, and was afraid to see the doctor in case he confirmed her fears.

At the finish of his examination, Dr Smythe emerged from the bedroom and joined Richard in the parlour.

‘Well?’ Richard prompted.

‘I don’t think you need be too concerned about your wife’s health, Captain Steele,’ Smythe reassured as he slipped his stethoscope from his neck. ‘I don’t think she’s suffering from anything serious. Her headaches are obviously making her feel sick, however, and I’m puzzled as to why she’s suddenly had such a rash of them. She’s not worried about anything, is she?’

Richard shook his head. ‘Not that I’m aware of. I asked her yesterday if she was worried about anything, but she said she wasn’t.’

Smythe nodded thoughtfully as he slipped his stethoscope into his leather bag. ‘Well, it could possibly be the weather causing her headaches. We’ve had an extremely hot December and some very blustery nor’westers, which do have a tendency to cause headaches, but they don’t normally cause nausea. As for the latter, I did wonder if it might be morning sickness, but Mrs Steele seems quite sure that she’s not carrying a child. I’d like to get a clearer picture of how frequently she vomits. Your wife said she’s been sick only once today, but when I tried to ascertain how many times she’d been sick on previous days her memory was rather muddled. I don’t suppose you would know?’

Richard shook his head. ‘I only arrived home yesterday afternoon.’

‘How long have you been away, Captain Steele?’

‘Four months.’

‘How does your wife cope while you’re away?’

‘All right, as a rule,’ Richard said, frowning.

‘Your wife lives alone?’

‘Yes, she does.’

‘You’ve no children?’

‘No, not yet.’

‘Do you employ a housemaid?’

Richard nodded. ‘She comes in for an hour or two each day to do the cleaning and some cooking. She doesn’t live in. Eliza prefers this arrangement.’

‘Your wife spends a lot of time on her own, then?’

Well aware where the questions were leading, Richard answered, ‘I’m the captain of a sea-faring cargo ship, doctor. I’m of necessity away for long periods. Eliza has friends, though. She’s not entirely alone.’

Smythe nodded then reached into the side pocket of his bag and pulled out his prescription pad. ‘Well, unfortunately I don’t think we can rule out your long absences as a possible contributing factor to your wife’s present ill-health, Captain Steele. Stress often builds up gradually over a period of time, so a person can appear to be managing quite well but eventually they reach a point where they can no longer cope. Headaches, nausea, tension—all of which your wife is exhibiting—are typical symptoms of stress. Has she shown any signs of stress in the past?’

Richard shook his head. ‘Nothing like this.’

‘Has she had any out-of-the-ordinary difficulties to deal with during the past few weeks?’

Richard shook his head again. ‘Not that I know of. She’s not mentioned anything.’

‘I suggest you quiz her,’ Smythe said. ‘As for treatment, I’ll
prescribe something for her headaches and the nausea, and I strongly recommend that she rests and doesn’t overtax herself. I suggest she takes a tonic, too. The chemist will be able to recommend one. If she hasn’t improved in a month’s time, she must see me again.’

He briskly wrote out a prescription, then left.

Keen for Eliza to start taking her medicine as soon as possible, Richard took the prescription to the chemist, purchased an assortment of tonics, then walked home via Norwich Quay, mulling over what the doctor had said. If his long absences were indeed affecting Eliza’s health, he would have to take steps to do something about it. Exactly what steps was another question. He’d cross that bridge if and when he came to it.

Eliza was in the parlour when he got back. She was standing by the sideboard with her arms wrapped tightly around her middle, and he had the distinct impression she’d been crying. Deciding that it might be better to pretend he hadn’t noticed, he smiled and went over to her. ‘Headache pills,’ he said cheerfully, lifting a small round pill-box from the paper bag crooked in his left arm. He set it down on the sideboard. ‘An emulsion to settle your stomach.’ He lifted out a brown glass bottle and set that down beside the pills, then held out the bag so she could see the tonic bottles. ‘And the chemist assures me these will make a new woman of you in no time.’ He leaned over to kiss her cheek.

Turning away, she walked to the window seat and sat down, her arms still wound tightly around her middle.

Frowning, Richard deposited the bag of tonics on the sideboard. There was something terribly wrong with Eliza and he wished he knew what. She was a jangle of nerves. Had something happened to upset her while he was at sea? ‘Quiz her,’ Smythe had said. He breathed out a low sigh and decided it might be simpler to come straight to the point. ‘Eliza, these headaches and the other symptoms
you’ve been having—Dr Smythe said they could be caused by worry, stress. Did something happen to upset you while I was away?’

Tears welled into Eliza’s eyes and her bottom lip began to tremble uncontrollably. ‘Yes, something did happen,’ she said in a shaky voice. ‘You’re always away. You’re never here, Richard. I don’t see you from one month to the next. I blame you for what’s happened. You’ll blame me, but the blame is as much yours as mine.’

Richard’s frown deepened. Blame? What the devil was she talking about?

‘I’m pregnant,’ she said in a tight, choked voice.

Richard stared at her. Pregnant?
Pregnant?
If Eliza was pregnant, he knew with absolute certainty that
he
wasn’t the father. Last time he’d been ashore, in August, they hadn’t made love once. He walked slowly towards her, trying to gather his thoughts, trying to find an explanation other than the obvious one.

‘The child’s not yours, Richard,’ she sobbed.

‘D’you think I don’t know that!’ Grasping her by the shoulders, he hauled her to her feet. ‘Who’s the father?’

She shook her head wildly, her face contorted with sobs. ‘I won’t name him, Richard. I don’t care what you threaten me with—I won’t name him!’

‘You will!’ Richard’s fingers bit into her shoulders. He knew he was hurting her, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. ‘Tell me who the father is!’

‘No-oo-oo!’ The word fragmented into three as Richard gave her shoulders a hard shake.

‘Tell me!’ He shook her again.

‘Richard, please, stop it. You’re hurting me!’ Whimpering like a small animal, she pushed her hands against his chest, struggling to get free. ‘Please. Please. Let me go.’

Afraid he really would hurt her, he released his grip and stepped
back, breathing heavily. ‘You
will
tell me, Eliza!’ he said in a voice so charged with emotion that it shook.

She backed away from him, sobbing uncontrollably, and fled into the bedroom. A moment later, he heard the key turn in the lock.

Richard closed his eyes, forcing himself to stay where he was until he brought his anger under control. His heart was thundering in his chest, and he was shaking, partly from shock, partly from anger, and partly because for the first time in his life he had hurt a woman. He hadn’t hurt Eliza badly, only bruised her shoulders, but he had frightened her. Frightened himself, too. He had never handled a woman roughly like that, despised men who did, and he knew he’d come very close to being even more violent, come close to striking Eliza.

Who had fathered the child she was carrying? Seduced her? Who? Who? Who? He opened his eyes and started to pace up and down, trying to come up with some names, but he couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t think straight. His mind was in a turmoil: one minute he was trying to think who the father might be; the next minute, he was thinking of stupid, unimportant details like why she’d told the doctor she wasn’t pregnant. The reason, he supposed, was because she didn’t want the doctor to be the one to break the news to him, knowing the reaction it would get.

Why had Eliza done it? Why? That was the other question rattling around in his head. He could scarcely believe she was capable of adultery. And
who
had she committed adultery with? Quarter of an hour later, he hadn’t come up with even one likely candidate. He had thought of a way to get the truth out of Eliza, though.

It was another quarter of an hour before he felt sufficiently in command of himself to go and knock on the bedroom door. ‘Unlock the door. Let me in, Eliza,’ he ordered in a firm voice. He stepped back and waited.

There was a long silence.

‘I’ll wait one more minute,’ he said at length. ‘Then I shall go for the axe.’

Ten seconds later, he heard the sound of Eliza’s footsteps approaching the door. The key turned in the lock and she slowly pulled the door open. She looked dreadful. The whites of her eyes were red, her dark lashes were glued together with tears, her dress was all crumpled, and her breath was coming in hiccupping gasps. She had obviously spent the last half hour lying on the bed, sobbing her heart out.

Richard stepped past her, with his hands clasped behind his back, where he intended to keep them.

‘Richard…I never meant it to happen,’ she said in a choked voice. ‘I was lonely, depressed. If you’d been here more, if you’d been a proper husband to me, I’d never have—’

‘You dare to accuse me of not being a proper husband to you!’ he cut in, raising his voice enough to make Eliza take several hasty steps back. ‘I may not be here as much as you’d like, Eliza, but I’m faithful to you, which is more than can be said for you!’

‘I was depressed! You don’t know what it’s like, sitting in an empty house night after night!’ she returned in a shrill voice.

‘You obviously didn’t spend
all
your nights alone,’ Richard replied.