The Trespass (31 page)

Has someone found me already?
She held very tightly to the small table. Her face was expressionless. ‘Yes?’

‘Ah, Miss Cooper, we are glad you have embarked at last, I have been looking for you.’ He bowed to her. ‘The Captain had been hoping, we were all hoping, that your father was here, to say goodbye.’ He looked rather dubiously around the cabin. Usually people were surrounded by family.

‘My father and I have already – parted. He is detained on government business but – my brother – my brother was here to see me safely aboard. He has just disembarked.’

The official bowed again. ‘I am so sorry not to have met him. There have been some later arrivals among the passengers even than yourself and I was detained earlier. The Captain sends his compliments. He was so hoping to meet your father. We had an embarkation breakfast this morning with many leading dignitaries present; your health and that of your father was drunk in your absence.’ Harriet looked at him in horror. ‘The Captain would have liked to greet you himself – and your brother of course – in person when you boarded but now the estuary pilot is on board and he is called to his duties. He will of course be looking forward to your eating at his table and all care will be taken of you. For we are not used,’ he added confidingly, ‘to ladies travelling alone. We understand, of course, about your very sad bereavement – my condolences to you – and have made an exception in this case. Because of your father, of course. And as you are without a natural protector we will, of course, find a suitable married couple to be your guardians.’ Somebody called, he looked flurried, and was gone with another bow and many apologies.

Cecil came back stumbling under a small cupboard, disappeared again. She opened the cupboard, found it contained a big chamber pot decorated with rather large, bright crimson roses; she blushed in deep embarrassment. In a few minutes Cecil returned with a bowl, and a jug of the same pattern.

‘Have you got curtings?’

She looked at him blankly.

‘See this window? Where the people are passing? When it’s cold and stormy you’ll have it closed but when you go through them tropical oceans you’ll want to have it open, for the breeze. So you should put up curtings. There’s some of them Indians on the dock, with their stuff, their silks and their cottons, and you could sew it. You could come down and choose the colour and that.’

She nodded, put her hat back on, and lowered the veil, followed him out on to the deck.

‘What do I do if I see – bugs?’

‘Burn them and chuck them overboard.’

‘Thank you,’ she said politely. They side-stepped people and boxes and animals and children. There were ropes everywhere, and coils of big chains, and wooden buckets full of water; pigs in cages complained bitterly of their small space, grunting and snorting. Above, a lifeboat hung, suspended over the deck, and far above the lifeboat flags fluttered. ‘How do you know so well – how things are arranged, on board the ship?’ she asked Cecil.

‘I was a sailor, long ago when I was young. I like seeing the boats go, it reminds me; I sailed once, to India, and me daughter’s gone to Australia,’ and with this surprising cornucopia of information he helped her down the gangplank and on to the part of the pier where people were selling and shouting their wares; shabby steerage passengers bought second-hand saucepans and children tried to steal oranges. Cecil pushed his way through to where brown men in coloured turbans held out rolls of cloth. He began bargaining with the Indian traders at once; he and they seemed to have a fearful argument but when the price was struck everyone bowed, including Cecil; he carried under his arm back on to the ship the material of Harriet’s choice, had insisted she buy a big cup and saucer also. ‘For drinking water, the water will be rationed of course, you need to have your own cup.’

‘I know,’ she suddenly said eagerly, putting up her veil, remembering Edward’s manuals, ‘to catch the rainwater.’ Cecil smiled, pleased, and Harriet smiled back at him.

So that was how Lord Ralph Kingdom saw her coming towards him, as he looked for her in vain about the ship: she was smiling on the deck of the
Amaryllis,
holding a cup and saucer.

When Harriet turned, and then saw him, she dropped the cup and saucer at once. They did not break on the wooden deck but bounced down the deck towards Cecil, who picked them up.

‘I wondered if I might find you here,’ said Ralph, very gravely.

She looked as if he had struck her. This time her legs did give way and if he hadn’t stepped forward and quickly caught her arm she would have fallen to the deck.

‘No.
No!
’ was all she whispered.

Cecil, behind her, looked on with interest. He was familiar enough with the ballet dancers at Her Majesty’s Theatre, and their teatime stories, to know much about Lord Ralph Kingdom.

Ralph, so tense himself, was nevertheless appalled by Harriet’s reaction. One moment she was smiling, next moment she looked at him as if he were the very devil himself.
Good God, did she not realise yet that he loved her!
He led her, his arm half around her, to the ship’s rail, where for a moment she stood, her head bowed. Below on the shore people scurried about, calling, waving, directing luggage angrily, buying last-minute supplies, but Harriet saw none of this: only understood that somehow, at the last minute, she had been discovered. Tears of shock burst from her eyes, she was not protected by her veil, she put her hands up to her face and the embroidery bag bumped against the rail.

‘Why should you stop me!’ she exclaimed wildly.

He looked bewildered. ‘What are you doing here on your own? Who are you travelling with? Where is your family?’

Cecil stood at a respectful distance but near enough to hear most of their conversation. Gulls screamed past now, diving towards the ship and then flying upwards again.

‘Who are you travelling with?’ Lord Kingdom’s voice was low and urgent.

‘I am travelling alone.’

‘You are travelling alone to New Zealand?’ His voice was disbelieving. ‘What of your father?’ He was still holding her arm and she felt his fingers tighten. ‘He would not allow you to do this, of that I am certain.’

‘Please. You are hurting me.’ Cecil tensed slightly, but Lord Ralph let go of Harriet’s arm at once and in some confusion.

‘I am so sorry. I did not mean to hurt you.’

He had become acutely aware of people pushing past, passengers calling, sailors and carpenters passing with boxes and furniture, and of Cecil, standing there behind Harriet with his squashed top hat and his waistcoat, holding some material and a cup and saucer.

‘Who is this?’ said Ralph to Harriet, indicating Cecil.

Cecil bowed slightly: ‘Cecil Forsythe, at your service, sir,’ he said, and Harriet, not noticing his slightly mocking tone, said weakly, ‘Mr Forsythe has been assisting me.’

‘I imagine the constabulary would have good reason for arresting him if he has encouraged you in this ridiculous adventure.’ Ralph, usually so calm and sardonic whatever the circumstances, would have been mortified to know that his distress had made him pompous and loud. People passing stared at him. The German band below broke into ‘Home, Sweet Home’ with enthusiasm, as if it was an appropriate item.

‘Excuse me, sir,’ said Cecil, above the band and the cacophony of noise, ‘I believe it would be better to conduct this conversation in more privacy,’ and it was Cecil who led the way back, past all the ropes and the people, to Harriet’s cabin.

Ralph looked in total disbelief at the small space, at the boxes and the bed and the vulgar red wash bowl. For a moment words deserted him. Never in his life, not even with the ballet dancers and their wild and bohemian ways, had he felt as shocked as he did now: to find that a young lady of his acquaintance, who he cared so much about, had somehow got herself, unknown to her family, into this situation; ready it seemed to travel twenty thousand miles and never tell a soul. Cecil stood just outside the partly closed small doorway like a centurion guard. He had his back to them: Ralph presumed that despite his rascally appearance he was some old family retainer, knew that it would be most improper that the door be closed properly and he and Harriet left alone together in the small space.

‘How did you find me?’ said Harriet in almost a whisper.

He turned back to her, spoke in a low, urgent voice. ‘I – quite by chance as you know – overheard you talking to – that is to say – talking to your sister’s grave. There was something – that is to say – I understood you were desperate about something. I dreamed of you last night, Harriet, for – oh, Harriet,’ and his voice, too, lowered to a whisper, ‘I love you.’

He did not see that she looked at him in fear, hearing these words; that she had placed herself in the far corner away from him, holding her hands in front as if to ward him off.

‘You must forgive my impertinence, these are words that I would not have pressed upon you so soon in our acquaintance, and certainly not in a situation like this.’ He looked back at the door, but only Cecil’s shoulder could be seen, he was almost absent. ‘But I dreamed last night that I had lost you and I cannot bear to lose you because I believe you are the woman who can make me happy. Such was my despair at even a dream that something made me send to the Strand this morning to find out when next a ship was leaving. When I heard it was today I went to Bryanston Square at once and was told that you had gone to St Paul’s Church and had not yet returned, although they had been expecting the carriage for some time. I know your father is in Norwich on parliamentary business and somehow it seemed to me that my worst nightmares were confirmed, that for some reason that I do not understand you were doing something extraordinarily foolish. And so, even knowing I was foolish too – thinking one day we might laugh at my folly – I rode here, hoping that I was wrong. I arrived not half an hour ago and have been looking everywhere and could not find you and thought perhaps I had been mistaken; I was about to speak to the Captain. Thank God I have found you in time.’

She looked at him in total despair, said nothing.

‘Does your father know you are here?’ She shook her head.

‘Does anybody know you are here, your brothers, anyone but this servant?’ He indicated the door. Again she shook her head.

He, finally, asked the question that was uppermost in his mind. ‘Is it Edward?’

She looked at him blankly.

‘Are you in love with your cousin? With Edward?’

Her pale, pale face looked so puzzled, so incredulous through her tears that he understood at once that this was not so and something in his grim look relaxed. He took one of her hands.

‘Dearest Harriet.’ He looked at her for a long moment, at her pale, tear-stained face. How full of sorrow she seemed. But he had to have her for his own, there was no denying such feelings, even now her beauty almost overpowered him. He vowed to himself that he would make her happy. ‘Now let us go back to London at once. If you wish, I will keep this story to myself. I do think that is best, for it is such an incredible story, it would start a scandal; think what that would do to your father.’ He did not mention his mother. ‘I feel that the death of your sister has perhaps unbalanced your judgement, but I will look after you, and you will become yourself again.’

‘I will not go back with you. I cannot go back.’ She spoke low, but with such intensity that Cecil easily heard her words. ‘Please, I beg you, if you have any feelings for me at all, go at once, and leave me here.’

He looked at her, unbelieving. ‘Harriet, I do not think you understand, I am here to save you. You are not well. We will call for the ship’s doctor if you wish who will certainly confirm my diagnosis. But even if you were not ill I could not in all conscience let you go all the way to New Zealand, a country we know nothing of, alone, unaccompanied, without your father’s permission. You must know it is quite out of the question and that I cannot possibly let you do it. Apart from any other consideration it would be dangerous for a woman to make the journey alone. I simply cannot consider it for a moment. Try and understand what I am offering you. I love you, Harriet Cooper.’

Cecil, hearing these words and the odd, breathing silence between them, absented himself completely for a moment, to give the girl time to fly into his Lordship’s arms and rethink her plans should she so desire (although he could tell her a thing or two). He walked to the rail of the deck, saw ropes already being unwound, loosened, looked down on to the bustling dock. Then he looked up at the sky, wondering if it might rain, if the captain was ready. The bell would go soon. He pursed his lips as if to whistle. Then he walked back to the cabin. Harriet still looked like a trapped animal there in the corner. They were both tall but the man seemed to bear down on her, make her smaller. The man was still speaking, hurriedly, tensely.

‘I love you, Harriet. I have spoken to my mother and told her I want to marry you, and I believe I have obtained her agreement. I intend speaking to your father on his return. Of course if this – if this incident became public knowledge my mother would be greatly shocked, you can imagine the consequences. So you have my word, as well as my heart. I will tell no-one. We will forget this day and I promise you that when we are married I will take you to New Zealand, if you so desire. But you cannot go on this ship without your family’s knowledge.’

‘If I go back to London, I will surely kill myself.’

Ralph looked alarmed. ‘Harriet, I want you to come off this ship quietly. I want your reputation to be saved. But you are being hysterical.’

‘Ralph.’ It was the first time she had ever called him Ralph. ‘I beg you to believe me. I am not ill, and I am not hysterical. And I must travel on the
Amaryllis
as I have planned, or I will die.’ Something, something desolate in her face caught him, pulled at his heart.

‘Tell me why you are doing this,’ he said quietly.

‘I cannot. I cannot tell you.’ Again, something in her face touched him deeply, some bleakness in her dark eyes full of pain where he could not – would not wish even – to go. He remembered how he had first seen her: the girl with the invisible wall between herself and the world. ‘Ralph,’ and he waited,
‘I do not know the words.’