The Sea Between (29 page)

Leaning forward, he kissed her on the lips.

Charlotte closed her eyes and didn’t move. She knew it was wrong, she knew he shouldn’t be kissing her, she knew she should be stepping back, and Richard knew it was wrong, too. But what Eliza had done was also wrong, and a lot more wrong than a kiss. And that was why Charlotte was still standing there and why Richard would kiss her again in a moment. And, wrong or not, she wanted him to; she wanted him to take her in his arms, to hold her as he’d held her on the hills above her father’s farm. She wanted to pretend for a few fleeting moments that the impossible had happened: that they’d gone back in time to before it had all gone so very wrong.

Wrapping her in his arms, Richard kissed her again, with a tenderness that made her want to weep. She pulled him closer, until the brass buttons of his jacket dug into her chest. Tears were slipping down her face. She could taste their salty wetness mingled with Richard’s kisses. Tears for so many things, for all that might have been between them, if things had been different.

Slackening his hold on her, Richard drew back his head so that he could see her face. Then in a voice that was barely a whisper, he said, ‘I still love you, Charlotte. I’ve never stopped loving you.’

Letting her go, he walked over to the door and, without looking back, left.

April 1869

L
yttelton was astir. Even at nine o’clock in the morning, people were starting to congregate on the foreshore. A special train from Christchurch had brought official dignitaries and anyone else fortunate enough to come by a ticket, and the general public had flocked in from far and wide, including John and Letitia. The occasion—a royal visit by His Majesty, Prince Alfred, Duke of Edinburgh.

The port had never looked so colourful and gay. Long lines of flags and bunting were festooning the streets in readiness for his arrival, and a magnificent arch, lavishly decorated with native greenery, had been erected. On the seaward face of the arch the words
Welcome, Victoria’s Son
had been worked with leaves on a white background, and on the other side were the words
God Bless Prince Alfred.
A large dais, draped in royal blue and crimson, sporting the royal coat of arms, had also been erected the day before, and beyond it were several rows of seats, reserved for the dignitaries and their wives.

It was now a little after ten o’clock and a sizeable crowd had gathered. Those with tasks to perform were starting to assume their positions. A detachment of police had assembled at the foot of the stairs down which Prince Alfred would disembark from the HMS
Galatea,
and the artillery had split their ranks to form a double line
of honour from the arch to the dais. The schoolchildren had turned out in force, as one would expect for such an occasion, the girls all sporting clean white aprons, the boys with their best caps on. Even the hard-labour gang had been allowed to assemble at the breakwater from where they could watch the prince’s vessel pass.

‘Well, it couldn’t have been a better day for the prince to visit the port,’ John remarked as he cast his eye over the cloudless blue sky.

‘No, indeed,’ Letitia agreed. ‘The harbour’s like a mill pond. There’s hardly a ripple on it. And don’t the ships look fine with all their colourful bunting.’

John nodded as he lowered his eyes. ‘I should think the prince will be mightily pleased with his reception.’

‘I’ll be mightily pleased, too, if even a tenth of all these visitors call into my shop and buy something while they’re here,’ Charlotte said.

John turned to her and smiled. He had got over the Christmas upset. John had a quick temper and could flare like a torch, but normally the blaze didn’t last very long. It was a bonfire while it did last, though. ‘Is the shop doing any better?’ he asked.

‘Considerably better,’ she returned with a grin. ‘Thanks to Rose. She likes to be busy and she’s a very capable seamstress, so she suggested that I should offer a mending and hemming service. She said it would keep her occupied when the shop wasn’t doing any business. So I did as she suggested and she gets a percentage of everything she sews. It works very well for both of us. The takings have increased quite noticeably, and so has Rose’s pay.’

‘Oh, look at the all the watermen’s boats, John. Don’t they look a picture, flying all those flags!’ Letitia remarked, interrupting them. She placed her hand lightly on John’s sleeve.

Charlotte watched as her father affectionately covered Letitia’s hand with his own. ‘They look very fine, Letitia,’ he agreed.

Ann, who was standing on the other side of Charlotte, leaned over and whispered in her ear, ‘It’s good to see John and Letitia looking so happy.’

Charlotte smiled at her and nodded. It was good to see Ann looking happy, too. Her back had been much better of late. George was looking much happier, too, now that Charlotte had stopped sticking pins in him.

As for herself, she simply went from one day to the next and didn’t think or plan much beyond that. And Richard and Eliza, they would probably be in England by now. Not many days passed when she didn’t think of Richard—it was hard not to with the sea there as a constant reminder. As for William, he was now in Wellington and she thought of him hardly at all. In early March, he and George had been approached by a Christchurch insurance company which had subsequently made them a good offer for the business, so they’d decided to sell. William had moved to Wellington and George had accepted a position with the new owners, doing much the same as he’d been doing before, but without all the worry of owning a share of the business.

‘Aha!’ George said, interrupting her thoughts. ‘Did you hear that?’

‘That’ was a distant, resonating boom: the HMS
Galatea
had fired one of her guns, announcing her approach. The general air of expectancy among the crowd lifted like a kite caught in a sudden gust, the schoolchildren excitedly broke ranks, only to be hastily shooed back into line again, while the detachment of police and the artillery straightened their spines and assumed more official poses. A quarter of an hour later, however, the air of expectancy had been replaced by restless fidgeting. The
Gazelle,
which had steamed out to meet the
Galatea
and take aboard the prince’s luggage, was steaming back into the harbour, but there was still no sign of the royal vessel.

‘Now there’s a curious thing,’ George said, dipping his head in the direction of the
Gazelle.
‘Do you see how all the watermen’s boats are following her? Do you know what I think? I think the Prince has boarded the
Gazelle.
’

‘Mmm, you could be right,’ John agreed. ‘I see the organizing committee is watching the
Gazelle
fairly closely. One or two of them are looking a bit concerned. It must have upset their plans.’

John’s comment proved absolutely right. The disembarking stairs had been carefully constructed to be correct for the
Galatea
’s deck, but they were evidently all wrong for the
Gazelle.
After some hasty modifications and a somewhat embarrassing delay, Prince Alfred eventually disembarked, impeccably attired in morning costume, to the accompaniment of exuberant cheers from the crowd. As the official party walked to the dais, a loud boom sounded from the big gun that the artillery had mounted on the reclaimed land some fifty yards away. The line of volunteers presented arms and the brass band launched into the national anthem.

Once at the dais, the Superintendent, William Rolleston, officially welcomed the prince. Leaning discreetly over to Charlotte, Ann whispered in her ear, ‘Men do like to orate, don’t they?’ Charlotte grinned at her, then quickly straightened her face as her father threw her a disapproving glance.

The Superintendent’s speech was both well delivered and short, as was Prince Alfred’s response. The speeches that followed were rather more tedious. Not that it mattered. Most people hadn’t come to hear the speeches, they’d come to see the prince; so the longer the speeches, the longer people were able to see him.

The only disappointment of the morning was the news that Prince Alfred had declined the invitation to go to the Colonists’ Hall for refreshments. In fact, his visit was fairly brief. After the speeches had finished, he inspected the reclaimed land, spoke with one or two of
the schoolchildren, then boarded the waiting train.

As the engine chuffed into the tunnel, Charlotte tapped her father’s arm to get his attention. ‘I’m going to the shop now, Father—hopefully to a full shop,’ she said with a grin.

John nodded. ‘All right, Charlotte. We’ll see you later in the afternoon.’

As John and Letitia started walking slowly from the railway platform, along with the rest of the large throng that had gathered there to see the prince off, John watched the distinctive purple feather in his daughter’s hat weave in and out of the crowd as she hurried back to her haberdashery. He was damned if he knew why she’d bought a shop. She needed a husband, not a shop.

Voicing his thoughts, he said in confidential tones, ‘I wish Charlotte would find herself a good man and settle down, Letitia. I was so pleased that she was going to marry William Fairfield, then…’ John shook his head.

‘Water under the bridge, John,’ Letitia said soothingly. ‘Water under the bridge.’

John gave a reluctant nod. ‘I know it is but…well, I wonder sometimes if she’ll ever marry. She’s got too much of Isobel in her, and I blame myself for that. I was the one who asked Isobel to come and live with us after I was widowed.’ John shook his head again. ‘Isobel was a huge influence on Charlotte. I could see her changing before my eyes. In the space of two years, she went from a quiet, keen-to-please girl to a strong-willed, self-reliant young woman. Had it not been for Isobel influencing and shaping her, I’m damned sure that Charlotte would have accepted Richard’s offer of marriage. Damned sure!’

‘And I’m equally sure,’ Letitia returned, ‘that had Isobel not shaped Charlotte into the woman she is, Richard wouldn’t have asked her to marry him. It was Charlotte’s strength of character, her self-reliance, that drew Richard to her. If she’d been weaker, more compliant, he
wouldn’t have loved her as he did.’ She paused, then added quietly, ‘As he still does.’

John looked at her, a deep frown puckering his brows. ‘D’you think he does still love her, Letitia?’

‘I know he does. Just as you know that Charlotte still has strong feelings for Richard.’

John looked away.

‘I think that’s one reason why Richard agreed to take Eliza back to England,’ Letitia continued. ‘Oh, I’m sure the story about her being homesick and wanting her mother close at hand when she gives birth is all quite true, but I also think that Richard has decided that he needs to put some space between him and Charlotte. Unless I’m much mistaken, Richard’s ship won’t be visiting Lyttelton very often from now on. He knows there’s no possibility of his ever marrying Charlotte and…well, you know the saying, out of sight, out of mind. It’s my conjecture that he’s putting the sea between them, in the hopes that he’ll forget her and she him. I must say, I think she’s more likely to forget Richard and marry if he doesn’t keep sailing back into her life every few months.’

‘She had the chance to marry him, and didn’t,’ John said tersely.

Letitia squeezed his arm gently. ‘Water under the bridge, John. What’s done can’t be undone, so it’s no use crying over it.’

John sighed deeply. No use at all. But he couldn’t help regretting it all the same.

‘Will you want to go and visit your grandchild in England when it’s born, Letitia?’ he asked quietly. ‘I’ve no objections to your going, if you wish to.’ To his surprise, Letitia shook her head.

‘No, I don’t think so, John. It’s a long way and I’m not as young as I was. And I’m a very poor sailor. No, I think I’ll just enjoy your grandchildren.’

John smiled and nodded. Letitia was doing her best to appear philosophical, but she’d been deeply hurt by the letter that Richard had written to them, advising them of his intention to take Eliza back to England. For his own part, he thought it very poor of Richard to send a letter via George and not come in person to tell his mother about his plans. Very poor indeed. Richard had gone down quite a few notches in his estimation after he’d read the letter.

Putting it from his mind, he said. ‘Shall we see if Charlotte has something suitable for Sarah’s birthday?’

Letitia arched her brows and the corner of her mouth curled up in an amused smile. ‘You mean to say you intend to step inside a ladies’ haberdashery, John?’

John laughed. ‘God forbid, no! I intend to stand outside and admire the view. I’ll leave the choosing to you, Letitia.’

September 1870

I
t was over eighteen months since Charlotte had seen Richard, and a lot had changed during that time. He was a father now. He had a daughter, who bore his name, if not his blood. Eliza had called her Suzannah, after her mother. Richard had settled Eliza in a house not far from her parents, in Southampton, and apparently lived with her when he was ashore. Whether it was for appearances’ sake or for convenience or whether he’d forgiven her and was trying to make something of their marriage, it was hard to say. There had been some significant changes to his sea travels, too. He had sold the
Nina
at the beginning of the year to purchase a vessel more suited to shorthaul voyages around the English coastline and the Mediterranean. For Charlotte, it had been confirmation of what she had already known: that their paths wouldn’t cross again for a very long time. She was expecting it to be years before she saw him again, so when she saw in the distance, one Saturday afternoon, a man standing on the Government Jetty who had a look of Richard, she didn’t give him much of a second glance. She regularly saw men who had a look of Richard, but they were never him.

A light nor’easterly wind was blowing, capping the choppy waves in Erskine Bay with white foam, and she was out walking with ‘an interested party’, as George liked to refer to the men who called at
the house from time to time to invite her out. Nice as they were, so far none of them had made her feel as if she’d like to spend the rest of her life with them. Perhaps she was just too fussy. The latest interested party was William Roach—another William. He worked at the Bank of New Zealand. He was a keen swimmer and regularly swam across the bay and back again. He also had a fascination with beetles and had quite an impressive collection. Beetles were the focus of today’s conversation: he’d found a very unusual bright green one, one from foreign parts that had found its way ashore via a ship, so he thought. He’d brought it along to show her, dead now, thank God. By the time they reached the Government Jetty, with her mind on beetles, Charlotte had forgotten all about the man she’d seen in the distance, so the very last person she was expecting to see standing on the deck of a moored ship was Richard. He had obviously seen her some time ago, and was watching the two of them as they walked slowly down the jetty.

She stared at him, thunderstruck, her thoughts written all over her face. Because Richard wasn’t alone: Eliza was with him. She was holding her daughter in her arms, facing away from them, as yet unaware of their presence. How could he? Charlotte thought incredulously. How could Richard bring Eliza and her daughter back to Lyttelton? What in God’s name was he thinking of!

Suddenly aware that Richard was no longer listening to her and that his attention was elsewhere, Eliza twisted her head around and looked over her left shoulder. Except the eyes that curiously met Charlotte’s were not Eliza’s eyes, nor was the face. It was a face that Charlotte didn’t recognize at all. Passengers, just two passengers. Charlotte’s shoulders sagged with relief. Her relief was far from total, though—her chest was still as tight as a drum and tightened even more as Richard turned to speak briefly to the woman, then came on to the jetty and walked over to them.

‘Good afternoon, I’m Richard Steele,’ Richard said, addressing himself to William.

William stared at him, obviously wondering why on earth a ship’s captain should want to introduce himself to two total strangers, out for an afternoon stroll along the jetty. Suddenly conscious that a bright green beetle was lying in full view on the palm of his right hand, he curled his fingers around it and quickly dropped his hand to his side.

‘Er…good afternoon,’ William returned.

Turning towards Charlotte, Richard said quietly, ‘I need to speak to you, Charlotte. In private.’

Charlotte glanced at William, who was not surprisingly looking slightly taken aback. ‘Captain Steele and I are related by marriage, William,’ she said, by way of brief explanation. ‘Would you excuse me, please? I’ll see myself home.’

With little choice, and very graciously in the circumstances, William left.

‘Come aboard,’ Richard said. Assuming her agreement, he turned back towards his ship. It was called
Firebird.
The woman with the child, she noticed, was still hovering on deck, watching them, although she was trying to pretend that she wasn’t. She was probably waiting for someone to come and collect them. It was her luggage, no doubt, that was on the jetty. Charlotte glanced at Richard as she walked past him. There was something wrong, she could see it in his face; and whatever it was it had brought him back to Lyttelton.

Once on deck, to Charlotte’s surprise, instead of ushering her below to the privacy of his cabin, Richard beckoned to the woman. Her daughter was squirming around in her arms like a fish, wanting to be put down. Giving in to her, the woman set her down and let her walk beside her. She was a pretty child with fine dark wavy hair and lovely blue eyes; coming to a halt an inch or two from Richard’s
legs, she looked up and smiled prettily at him. Stooping, Richard picked her up.

‘You can go ashore now, Mary. I won’t be needing your assistance with Suzannah any further,’ Richard said quietly to the woman. ‘I’ll have one of my men take your luggage to the Mitre Hotel.’

Charlotte’s throat tightened as the little girl wound her arms around Richard’s neck and rested her head on his shoulder. This was Suzannah. Eliza’s child. George’s daughter.

They stood in silence, waiting until Mary had left the ship, then Richard turned to her and said in the same quiet tones, ‘Eliza is dead.’

Charlotte swallowed and looked away. She had known even before he spoke that that was what he was going to tell her, but it hadn’t lessened the shock any. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said in a hoarse voice. She looked back again, at a loss to know what else to say.

‘Come below,’ Richard said as Suzannah started to wriggle in his arms. ‘Then I can let Suzannah walk about without fear of her getting under my crew’s feet.’

She followed him below, blinking back tears. Tears for Eliza—she hadn’t had much in the way of happiness in the last few years of her life. Tears for this pretty little girl who now had no mother, and no father either. She had Richard, though, and Charlotte could tell from the way Richard held her that he had some feeling for the child.

Once in the safe precincts of his cabin, Richard put Suzannah down and handed her a bunch of keys that were lying on his desk. Easily amused, she wandered around, shaking the keys like a rattle, poking them in between the floorboards and into any other nooks and crannies she could find.

‘How did Eliza—?’ Charlotte stopped short, not able to bring herself to finish the question. There was no need anyway. Richard knew what she was asking.

‘Pneumonia,’ he replied.

‘Were you at sea?’

To her surprise, Richard shook his head. ‘No, I was with her. She took ill a day or two before I was due to sail, so I stayed ashore and let my first mate take command. She had influenza and it turned into pneumonia. The doctor told me that her condition was serious and that she mightn’t survive, but it still came as a shock when she died.’

Pulling her handkerchief from her pocket, Charlotte wiped her eyes. She had felt every emotion under the sun for Eliza in the relatively short time she’d known her—jealousy, anger, disgust, pity, and now this deep feeling of sadness.

‘After the funeral, I sold the house and chattels then signed a contract to transport a cargo to Lyttelton,’ Richard continued. ‘I carry a few passengers these days so I offered Mary a free passage in return for looking after Suzannah during the voyage. I’ll be taking Suzannah to the farm tomorrow. I’m going to ask my mother and John if they’ll look after her, just in the short term, while I sort out my affairs.’

She stared at him for a moment, then said hesitantly, ‘Did Eliza’s parents not want to care for her?’

Richard shook his head again. ‘Eliza’s mother wanted to, but her father would have none of it. He made it quite clear to me that Suzannah is my responsibility, not theirs. He isn’t fond of children.’ He looked down at Suzannah, who had come up to him and wound her arms around his legs. Reaching down, he ruffled her hair and said quietly, ‘Go and play, Suzannah. Go on, off you go.’

Tears welled into Charlotte’s eyes again as she watched Suzannah trot off, rattling the bunch of keys. This little girl was George’s daughter. Her niece. John and Letitia’s granddaughter, though not in the way they believed her to be.

‘Richard, I’m so sorry,’ she whispered and shook her head helplessly, hoping that her face would tell him what she couldn’t find the words to express.

Richard nodded and looked away. ‘Yes, I’m sorry, too. Sorry that she died so young. Sorry that I asked her to marry me. All I did was make her miserable. And Eliza certainly regretted marrying me. She made no secret of that after I took her back to England.’

Charlotte lowered her eyes, not knowing what to say.

‘If only we could turn back the clock. God, I would!’ With a loud sigh, Richard clasped his hands behind his neck and drew his elbows in tightly together, the way men do when they are anguishing over something.

‘You can’t shoulder all of the blame,’ Charlotte said gently.

Richard closed his eyes. ‘No, but I must shoulder some of it. If I blame myself for nothing else, I blame myself for asking Eliza to marry me. It was a mistake, and everything else that happened sprang from that.’

‘She didn’t have to marry you, Richard. She chose to,’ Charlotte said quietly. ‘Eliza knew what you were when she accepted your offer: she knew you were a sea captain and she knew what that would mean.’

Richard looked at her, his hands still clasped like a self-inflicted millstone around his neck. ‘You knew what it would mean and that’s why you refused me. Eliza didn’t think things through the way you do, though; she didn’t realize just how much she’d be alone.’

‘Oh, I think she did,’ Charlotte returned. ‘But I think she thought things would change once you were married.’ Eliza, however, had greatly underestimated the pull of the sea, just as she had greatly overestimated the pull of the marriage bed.

Letting out another deep sigh, Richard let his hands fall to his sides. He opened his mouth to speak, but whatever word he’d spoken
was drowned out by a sudden howl of pain from Suzannah.

Frowning, he strode over to her and picked her up. ‘A splinter in her finger again, I expect. She’s always getting splinters in them. I’ve tried to teach her not to run her hands over the floorboards, but she won’t learn.’ Patting Suzannah’s back, he walked around the cabin with her, quietly talking to her until her sobs died away to tearful hiccups. ‘Yes, it is a splinter,’ he said, examining her right thumb. ‘I’ll get it out later when she’s asleep.’

Charlotte reached for the edge of Richard’s desk as the ship rocked to one side then rocked back again, in response to the swell wave from a passing ship.

‘Have you been seeing him long, the man you were with?’ Richard asked casually.

‘No. Not long,’ she answered.

There was a short silence, then he said, ‘Do you see anything of Fairfield?’

‘No. He’s in Wellington now.’ She didn’t bother to expand. ‘Will you see Ann and George before you leave for the farm?’

To her relief, Richard shook his head.

‘I won’t have time. I’ll call on them when I come back from the farm. I’ll be ashore for at least a month, maybe longer. It all depends.’

As Richard turned to cast his eye over the pile of documents stacked neatly on his desk, he breathed out a long sigh. Thinking it a game, Suzannah pouted her lips and blew on his face, then put her fingers against his mouth, clearly wanting him to do another sigh. Richard smiled at her, blew a puff of air through her fingers, then put her down.

He watched her for a moment or two, but when turned back to Charlotte his face was serious again. ‘Charlotte, I don’t want to push you off my ship when you’ve only just come aboard, but we’re ready
to cast off and drop anchor in the bay. My crew are still aboard and they’re itching to go ashore.’

She nodded and turned towards the cabin door. ‘Are you staying aboard your ship tonight?’

‘No. I’m staying at the Queen’s Hotel. Suzannah and I, that is,’ he amended.

‘How long will it take to drop anchor?’

‘An hour. Why?’

‘Would you like me to look after Suzannah while you’re doing whatever you need to do, since Mary isn’t here to look after her?’

Slipping his hands into his pockets, Richard studied her for a moment, then said quietly, ‘You don’t feel any resentment towards her, do you?’

She shook her head, surprised that he would even ask. ‘No. Of course I don’t. Children can’t choose the manner of their making.’

Richard looked away, a deep frown puckering his brow. If the ship had been made of glass he would have been able to see Voelas Road, where Suzannah had been made, for that was where he was looking, in his mind’s eye.

‘Well?’ Charlotte prompted quietly.

He looked back and smiled. ‘Thank you. I’d be grateful, if you can spare the time.’

Two hours later she was back at George and Ann’s, preparing to break the news of Eliza’s death to them. The news about Suzannah, too.

As she walked into the parlour, Ann looked up from her needlework and greeted her with her usual smile. George was buried behind the spread wings of his newspaper.

‘Richard is in port,’ Charlotte said quietly.

With a crackly rustle, George lowered his newspaper to his knee and looked at her.

‘I have some bad news,’ she said softly. ‘Eliza has passed away.’

Ann let out a stunned gasp and George stared at her in mute shock. By the time she’d finished the rest of the account, Ann was sobbing her heart out. Pushing himself to his feet, George went over to comfort her, looking not far from tears himself.