The Sea Between (27 page)

T
he journey from Lyttelton to the farm the following day was long and hot. Charlotte couldn’t think of a single thing about it that had been enjoyable. She and George had travelled by train from Lyttelton to Christchurch, and from there they’d taken the coach as far as the Malvern Arms, where they’d collected the two saddled horses that Edwin had left for them. It was late in the afternoon when they finally arrived at the farm.

Braving the wilting nor’wester, Edwin and his oldest son, Arthur, were in the yard, stacking freshly split logs of firewood against the side of the barn. ‘We’d just about given up on you. We were starting to think you wouldn’t arrive today,’ Edwin said, wiping the back of his hand across his sweat-beaded brow as he walked over to greet them. Dropping the log of wood that he was carrying, Arthur ran into the house to let the rest of the family know they’d arrived.

‘It was a very long trip from Christchurch in the coach,’ George replied as he dismounted from his horse. ‘One of the passengers, an elderly gentleman, wasn’t feeling well—he said he had bad pains in his chest. His wife was anxious, as you’d expect, and asked the coach driver to turn back. No one objected, of course, but it added an extra couple of hours to the journey. That’s why we’re so late.’

‘Well, you’re here now,’ Edwin said cheerfully. ‘Come into the house. You look as if you could use a cup of tea.’

‘Not for me, thank you, Edwin,’ Charlotte said as she slipped
down from the saddle. A cup of tea would inevitably include a heaped spoonful of discussion about her wedding, which she wanted to avoid at all costs. She needed to speak to her father before she told anyone else about her broken engagement. He wouldn’t be pleased when he heard her news, but he’d be even less pleased if the rest of the family heard about it before he did. She forced a smile and added, ‘I’ll say a quick hello to Sarah and Ann, then I’ll ride over to see Father and Letitia. I presume I’m to stay with you, Edwin?’

Edwin nodded. ‘You are. And Richard and Eliza will stay with Letitia and Father, of course. Which brings me to ask: where are they? I thought you were planning on travelling together.’

Charlotte turned to look at George.
He
could explain where they were.

‘Well—’ George started to say, but got no further. Ann had emerged from the house and was hurrying over to him. She was followed by Sarah, carrying her youngest son, James, on her hip, and close on her heels were Arthur, Matthew and Mary Ellen.

‘Charlotte, it’s good to see you again,’ Sarah said warmly. ‘We were so pleased to hear the news of your engagement to William.’ She leaned forward to kiss her, then took hold of her left hand. ‘Oh, you’re not wearing your ring,’ she exclaimed in surprise.

Charlotte was on the point of fobbing Sarah off with a plausible excuse when young Matthew, bless him, butted in with, ‘Please, Aunt Charlotte—have you brought us some of those nice boiled sweets?’

‘Matthew, wherever are your manners! Did you leave them in the house?’ Sarah looked at him reproachfully. ‘It’s polite to wait to be offered gifts. You ought to know better than to ask for them.’

‘I said “please”,’ Matthew defended.

‘You still oughtn’t to have asked,’ Sarah said firmly. She shook her head and turned back to Charlotte. ‘They say “manners maketh the
man”, but, dear me, they’re a long while in the making!’

Normally, Charlotte would have laughed. Today, all she managed was a stiff smile, and even that was an effort. ‘Your children have all grown since I last saw them,’ she remarked, before the conversation could return to her ringless finger. James was nearly a year old now. She stooped to smile at Mary Ellen. Behind her, Charlotte could hear Edwin quizzing George about Richard and Eliza’s whereabouts.

‘Oh, so that’s why they’re not here,’ Edwin exclaimed. ‘Did you hear that, Sarah? Eliza is pregnant.’

Sarah grinned at him. ‘That will please Letitia. Her first grandchild. She’ll be disappointed at not seeing Richard, though. She’s been looking forward to his visit for weeks.’

‘If I’m not mistaken, that’s John and Letitia arriving now.’ Edwin cocked his head to the side, listening. A cart was coming up the track. A minute later, it rumbled into the yard.

‘Ah, so this is where you are. Have you not long arrived?’ John asked, taking in the baggage, still tied to the horses’ saddles. With practised ease he jumped down from the wagon.

‘We arrived just a few minutes ago, Father,’ George answered.

‘Where are Richard and Eliza? Are they in the house?’ Letitia asked as she climbed down.

‘I’m afraid they’re not coming,’ Edwin replied. ‘George has just been explaining to us that they’ve decided to spend Christmas in Lyttelton, on account of Eliza. She’s pregnant.’

‘John, do you hear that?’ Letitia exclaimed, her voice a mix of delight and disappointment. ‘I’m to be a grandmother at last!’

John put his arm around her in a touching gesture of congratulation, and perhaps, too, wanting to comfort her in her disappointment at not seeing Richard. ‘Well, that is good news! Does that mean I’m to be a grandfather again, then?’

‘Haven’t you enough grandchildren of your own, John, that you
should want to share mine?’ Letitia asked.

The yard rang with the family’s laughter.

Charlotte turned away, pretending to look back up the track, not wanting them to see her smileless face. The terrible irony of it was that the child was indeed John’s grandchild, and no blood kin at all to Letitia. As the laughter began to subside, she turned back again and flicked a black look at George, who was somehow managing to put on a vaguely cheerful face.

‘Why did they decide against coming? Is Eliza suffering from morning sickness, Charlotte?’ Sarah asked.

‘Yes, she’s feeling quite unwell,’ Charlotte replied. An understatement, to say the least.

‘Charlotte,’ John said warmly as he walked over to her. ‘How are you? You look a little pale. Are you all right?’

‘Just tired from travelling,’ she said, and mustered the expected smile.

‘And William, how is he? It’s such a pity he couldn’t join us for Christmas.’

She didn’t even get a chance to answer. Letitia, still glowing with the news about Eliza, was embracing her. ‘Charlotte, how are you? Oh, what a lot we have to celebrate this Christmas! A wedding to look forward to in a few weeks, and now the news that Richard is to be a father.’

‘A Christmas to remember!’ John said.

‘Is your wedding dress finished, Charlotte?’ Letitia asked.

‘I should hope it is by now,’ John said with a laugh. Letitia smiled as his arm settled around her shoulder again.

‘We thought we’d make the wedding cake a day or two after Christmas. You’ll have to take a turn in the stirring, Charlotte. It’s meant to be good luck,’ Sarah said. ‘It’s meant to bless you with lots of children!’

‘You surely don’t believe that old wives’ tale, Sarah,’ Edwin scoffed.

Sarah laid her hand on Edwin’s arm, then turned to the rest of them and said, ‘This is the man who, whenever he spills salt on the table, throws some over his left shoulder to stave off bad luck.’

The yard filled with laughter again.

‘Well, I suppose I am a bit superstitious,’ Edwin admitted with a grin. ‘Anyway, come into the house. I don’t know why we’re all standing in the yard,’ he said, turning to lead the way.

‘Are you hungry? I expect you are. There’s some cold lamb, Charlotte, if you fancy some,’ Sarah said, as they walked towards the house.

‘Just a cup of tea, I think,’ Charlotte murmured, glancing back at her father, who was talking to George. Seizing her chance, she turned back and went over to them.

‘Father,’ she said quietly, interrupting their conversation. ‘Could I speak to you, please? In private, somewhere.’ Out of the corner of her eye, she saw George stiffen.

Her face must have told John quite a bit, because a sudden change came over his features. He glanced at George, looked back at Charlotte, then dipped his head towards the house.

‘In the study.’

Once there, he shut the door behind them and turned to her, his face serious.

‘Bad news, is it? Is it Eliza? Is her pregnancy precarious?’

She shook her head and went to sit on the couch; her legs were starting to feel as if they’d lost all their bones. ‘It’s not to do with Eliza. It’s…’ She took a deep breath. ‘It’s to do with William and me. We…’ She had been about to bluntly say ‘we won’t be marrying next month’ but instead found herself hedging. ‘There was a bad misunderstanding between us a day or two ago. Someone accused
William of something very serious. I believed the accusation, then afterwards I found out that it wasn’t true. I apologized to William, but…’ She licked her lips and swallowed. ‘…he can’t forgive me.’ She swallowed again and forced herself to say the words she’d been dreading. ‘We won’t be marrying next month, Father.’

John stared at her, looking completely and utterly taken aback. She lowered her eyes and waited for him to erupt. It wasn’t an eruption that came, though; it was a question. ‘What was the nature of this serious accusation?’

She looked up again and met his eyes as steadily as she could. ‘A woman accused him of fathering her child.’

John’s eyes snapped wide with shock, and in a rather less controlled voice he exclaimed, ‘And you believed her?’

‘Father, I was there when the woman’s husband confronted William. He said his wife had named William as the father of the child she was carrying,’ she defended.

‘Which William denied, I trust?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘But you didn’t believe him,’ John cut in.

She lowered her eyes again. ‘I didn’t know who to believe.’

‘You didn’t think to give your fiancé the benefit of the doubt?’ John’s voice was getting louder with each word.

‘At the time, Father, I thought there
was
some doubt,’ she said.

‘But you’ve learned since that you were wrong!’

John turned his head sharply as footsteps sounded in the hall, along with the chink of china. The door swung open and Letitia appeared with a tray of tea. She paused, looked from John to Charlotte, frowned, then set the tray down on the table. ‘John? What is it?’ she asked.

John looked at her, tight-lipped. ‘My daughter has just informed me there’s to be no wedding.’

‘Oh. So that’s it. I thought something wasn’t right,’ Letitia said quietly.

‘Oh, you did, did you, Letitia,’ John stated tersely. ‘You mentioned nothing to me of your thoughts.’

‘I’ve scarcely had time to mention anything to you, John,’ Letitia replied, raising her brows at him. ‘So,’ she said, turning back to Charlotte. ‘Have you decided William isn’t the right man for you?’

‘Right man?’ The china cups clattered in their saucers and milk spilled from the jug, dousing the cinnamon biscuits, as John pushed past the tea table. ‘He’s as good a match as Charlotte can hope for!’

‘That isn’t what I meant, and don’t shout, John,’ Letitia said, raising her own voice a little now. ‘I meant right in terms of feelings of affection. Love.’

Ignoring her plea for restraint, John said even more loudly, ‘My daughter
loved
your son, or reckoned she did! But did she marry him? No. And why? Because he didn’t have the right profession. She didn’t want a sea captain, she wanted a man who’d be at home with her of an evening. Well, she had one in William Fairfield. Had!’ He ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation, making it stick up like thistle heads. ‘Anyway, you’re barking up the wrong tree, Letitia. The reason the wedding is off has nothing to do with love—it’s off because Charlotte is evidently prepared to trust the word of some woman rather than the word of her fiancé! Can you believe this? Some woman accused William of fathering the child she’s carrying, and Charlotte believed her, despite the fact that William denied it!’

Letitia stared at him, shocked into silence.

‘My daughter has since found out that the woman was lying. Which,’ John added, fixing a damning eye on Charlotte, ‘she ought to have realized from the start.’

‘Maybe so, John, but it’s easy to be wise in hindsight,’ Letitia said, finding her voice again. ‘Like it or not, men do father illegitimate children, and it’s often the men you’d least expect it of. No one in the district believed Mary Camp when she named David Allsop, a married man with two children, as the father of her child. He hotly denied it. But he is the father, as you and I both know now. Mary Camp’s son is the image of David Allsop—you only need to look at his hair and the colour of his eyes to see he’s his.’

Silence fell. Charlotte looked from Letitia to her father, waiting for his reaction. John had been one of David Allsop’s strongest and most vocal supporters at the time. He wouldn’t like being reminded of his mistake by Letitia, but the reminder was timely nonetheless.

Letitia reached out to lay her hand on John’s arm. ‘Sit down, John,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m sure there’s something that can be done to put matters to rights. What about George? Surely he can speak to William.’ She sat down on the couch beside Charlotte and looked up at her husband.

John remained standing, his mouth set in a hard, straight line. ‘I take it George knows about this?’

‘Yes, he knows.’ Try as she would, Charlotte couldn’t keep the bitter edge from her voice.

‘Has he spoken to William since it happened?’

She nodded. George had seen William, briefly. What they’d spoken about she had no idea—she hadn’t asked George and he hadn’t volunteered anything.

‘And?’ John prompted.

She looked away, avoiding his eyes. ‘William won’t be talked out of it, Father. He’s a proud man and he can’t forgive me.’ Any more than she could forgive George.

Silence fell again, then John burst out angrily, ‘Why the devil did she name William as the father of her child? Why did she name
anybody for that matter? Why did she not let her husband think the child was his? I’m damned if I understand any of it!’

‘What’s that? She’s married, you say?’ Letitia said in an astonished voice. She shook her head, frowning. ‘I assumed she was a single woman, hoping to get William to support her and the child. Why ever did she name William, then? Is she hard up? Is she hoping to get some money out of him?’