Different Tides (17 page)

As Zachariah took it Clementine noticed his hands had been doctored by a much more proficient nurse than herself.

‘Thank you, Edward. I’ve come to escort you all down to breakfast.’

‘Edward can slide down the banister,’ Iris said when they reached the landing at the top of the stairs.

Clementine turned her glance on the boy, trying to hide her alarm. ‘Can he now? That’s a surprise.’

‘You weren’t supposed to tell anyone, Iris.’

‘That’s what sisters are for, stopping a chap from scaring everyone witless.’

‘Would it scare you if I did it?’

Zachariah laughed. ‘It’s your head. If you want to bounce off it at the bottom, go ahead.’

Iris turned to grin at her. ‘Edward was scared you’d make a fuss if I told you, Miss Clemmie. You won’t, will you?’

‘I would have. But it’s too late to do that now you have your uncle’s seal of approval.’

Edward gave a little shrug. ‘I only wanted to surprise Uncle Zachariah.’

‘Of course you did.’ She gazed down the long shiny slide of the handrail, her heart in her mouth. It would be irresistible to a boy, and she wouldn’t mind sliding down it herself if she wasn’t hampered by her skirts and didn’t have an audience. ‘Go on then. Be sure of this. I’ll only make a fuss if you fall off and hurt yourself, and that will be a big one.’

Edward grinned. ‘I won’t fall off, I promise. It’s easy if you don’t go too fast.’

‘How do you stop yourself from going too fast?’

‘By holding on tight.’

‘You’d better get on with it then.’

Edward hopped astride the rail, and with his rear pointing towards the hall he began to slide backwards. He managed to slow himself towards the bottom, and then dismounted to grin up at them.

‘It’s perfectly safe,’ Zachariah said, and followed him down in exactly the same manner, only faster and with more confidence.

He stood at the bottom looking up at them. ‘You next, Iris, then Miss Clemmie. I’ll catch you.’

Iris grabbed her hand and clung to it. ‘I don’t want to, Miss Clemmie. I’m scared.’

‘Then you don’t have to, and neither will I.’ She and Iris descended the stairs and walked past the grinning males, Clementine murmuring, ‘You’re becoming a convenient excuse for causing mischief in this house, Uncle Zachariah.’

‘Is that a good thing or a bad thing?’

‘Good for them, since it tells me they feel secure with you, even when they’re being less than perfect.’

He laughed. ‘It’s not so exciting when you know you’re not going to get into trouble when you’re caught. The last time I slid down that banister I got a strap across my rear and I couldn’t sit down for a day or two.’

‘Now you can slide down it any time you feel like, an action that would be of more use if you could slide back up again.’

When they were seated Zachariah placed a small dollop of oatmeal in each bowl for the children and drizzled honey over it. ‘I want you to eat well during this cold weather. It will help keep you warm.’

Edward wrinkled his nose. ‘May I have some bacon instead?’

‘After you’ve eaten the oatmeal. It’s only a small amount.’

Mrs Ogden interrupted breakfast. ‘Ben said it would be better if the children go out in the sleigh this morning, because it’s going to snow again in the afternoon.’

‘They have their lessons to do.’

Zachariah’s laughter rang out. ‘You’re a hard taskmaster, Miss Clemmie. I think we can dispense with them for one morning. A ride in the sleigh is something that mustn’t be missed, and this snow might melt as quickly as it came.’ He turned to Mrs Ogden. ‘Tell Ben I’ll take the reins and he can stand on the back to balance the weight. That grey can get a bit sprightly at times. I just hope he doesn’t get the urge to jump over a hedge.’

‘What about your hands?’

‘I’ll be wearing gloves. Stop worrying, it’s only a few scratches.’

The beast high-stepped along the drive, then under Zachariah’s expert handling they picked up speed and went into a fast trot. Ben had found some bells attached to a leather strap and had hung it on the sleigh. They jingled along the lanes, their breath turning to vapour and their cheeks glowing from the cold.

When they returned to the house, Zachariah sent the children up to the nursery with Polly. ‘You’ll find a couple of gifts waiting there for you.’ He turned to Clementine. ‘Come to the drawing room when you’re ready, Clementine. We need to talk.’

Changing her cloak for a warm shawl, she tidied her hair and went down in time to open the door for Mrs Ogden, who was carrying in a tray with coffee.

‘I’ve brought you some muffins straight out of the oven, sir, and I’ll send Annie up to the children with some hot chocolate to drink with their muffin, if that’s all right with you, Miss Clemmie?’

She nodded. ‘The muffins look delicious. Leave the tray on the table, Mrs Ogden. I’ll see to it.’

‘I’d prefer it if we were left undisturbed for the next hour,’ Zachariah told the housekeeper. ‘I’ll ring if we need anything.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Giving a little bob and studiously avoiding a glance at either of them the housekeeper left.

Zachariah smiled as he turned to her. ‘She’ll jump to conclusions, I’m afraid.’

‘Yes, I daresay she will. Would you like me to pour the coffee?’

‘Please.’

She handed him a muffin, thick with a crunchy sugar crusting and with butter melting from its steaming innards, and placed his coffee on the table next to him. When he reached out for it she noticed some blood had seeped through the bandage. ‘How are your hands after the sleigh ride?’

‘A little sore … and don’t tell me I should have listened to you, because I already know it.’

She made her eyes as round and as innocent as she could, but couldn’t resist a response. ‘As if I’d claim such a satisfying victory at the expense of my employer.’

Zachariah laughed. ‘Stop smirking and eat your muffin. I have something to tell you.’

‘What is it?’

‘I have no intention of discussing it with a mouthful of crumbs, so eat.’

Perhaps he was going to dismiss her. No, he wouldn’t have offered her refreshment. He would have sat behind his desk and been distantly correct.
Miss Morris. I’ve decided to terminate your services …

She bit into her muffin and it burst into her mouth with a buttery soft explosion.
Not when there’s food like this around
, Zachariah Fleet, she thought, and closed her eyes. ‘Mmmm!’

She washed it down with the coffee then dabbed her mouth with a white starched table napkin and gazed at him. ‘That was delicious. What did you want to tell me?’

‘I don’t know how to say it, so have been tossing it around in my mind.’

‘Goodness … is it something so bad then, Zachariah?’

‘It depends how you feel about it.’

‘I won’t know that until you tell me.’

He took a sip of his coffee. ‘I brought you here under false pretences, Clemmie. You see, my dear, there was a legacy involved. John tracked the likely recipient down, and that was you. But we needed to check if you were the right person.’

‘Probably not, because I don’t know anyone who would leave me anything.’

‘The legacy came through your father’s family.’

‘Howard Morris? But he’d already paid for my education.’

‘The legacy originated from his mother.’

‘If I’d had a living grandmother my mother would have taken me to her, surely.’

‘Perhaps she did, and you’ve forgotten. Remember, you were only a child when you and she parted company.’

‘I’d have remembered a grandmother. It’s possible she disapproved of my mother and disowned her. But I think my mother would have told me.’

‘John has to deal with facts, not supposition born of sentiment.’

‘Yes, I realize that. Why is this legacy such a problem?’

‘Recently, another young woman stepped forward with a claim to it. Her father was also Howard Morris, who died at the battle of Waterloo.’

‘Oh … I see.’ She frowned as her mind sifted through the possibilities. ‘Yes … I really think I do see. I have a half-sister. What’s her name?’

‘Alexandra. She didn’t know she was a foundling until a few weeks ago when John and I went to see her. She was raised by foster parents.’

‘Poor Alexandra.’

‘You needn’t feel sorry for her. She loved her foster parents and they loved her. In fact, she would have had a better, and more secure upbringing than you had.’

‘What does my half-sister look like? Are we alike?’

‘Alexandra is exceedingly fair, and has many social graces. She’s taller than you, with blue eyes. The resemblance between you isn’t marked, but I haven’t really tried to make any comparisons.’

But he’d noticed that Alexandra was exceedingly fair with blue eyes, and had been brimming with social graces. Had he looked past the surface? ‘Is she unmarried?’

‘Yes, she’s unmarried, but I’m sure she’ll make an advantageous marriage, since she’s been brought up with that aim in life. I’m inviting her to Martingale House along with Julia and John Beck in the New Year, so you can meet her and get to know her. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Why should I mind? This is your home and I’m just a servant in it. You can invite anyone you like to stay here.’

‘You’re put out. You know you’re more than just a servant to me. I rely on you, and I’ve grown to trust you with all that is dear to me. You know more about me than anyone, except John and Julia Beck.’

She was acting like a sulky brat, she knew. She drew in a deep breath and forced a smile to her face. How could she feel so threatened by a complete stranger – someone she’d never met? ‘It seems odd to suddenly discover I might have a half-sister. May I ask you something, which you might find a bit indelicate?’

He took her hands in his. ‘I think I know what you’re going to ask and we don’t know which of you is his legitimate daughter yet. You see, it appears that Howard Morris was married to two different women at once, and you and Alexandra were born around the same time.’

‘I see … at least, I think I do.’

‘I imagine John Beck will soon sort it out. He’s acquainted with someone in London who has access to the records. He’s going to try and find out more, and will want to speak to you again when he’s here. There are some aspects of this puzzle that don’t quite add up. When he’s sure, one of you will be entitled to the legacy. ‘Would you like to know the amount involved?’

‘I don’t want to have high expectations of something that might come to nothing. Do you think Alexandra will like me?’

His expression was one of dubiety. ‘As to that, we can only wait and see. Is it important to you that she does?’

‘If I’m to acquire a sister, it would be pleasant if we got on well.’

And that, thought Zachariah, might not be possible. Alexandra knew what she wanted, and despite her assumed airs and graces she would always put herself first.

He’d come to realize that Clementine was a tender flower. She wanted to please everyone, and was willing to allow herself to be taken advantage of in the quest to achieve that. She was argumentative, yes, but that fierceness hid her soft nature. It formed a barrier against hurt. She wanted to love and be loved, and that was easily transferred to the children, who’d reached out to her in their own need.

Goodness, what a house full of misfits they were – all waifs and strays, who, one way or another, had been abandoned by those who had given them life. He had it in him to make them all whole. He impaled a stray curl of gold-tinted hair on his finger and moved it from the back of her ear to the front so it lay against her cheek. Her skin was a pale, flawless covering over her fine bones. ‘It belongs there.’

‘It tickles my face when the wind blows.’

‘Then I’ll tell the wind to stop blowing. I like you a lot, Clemmie, and so do the children. Will that do for now?’

She nodded.

He’d not set out to make her cry, but a pair of identical tears rolled from the depth of her soft brown eyes and tracked down her cheeks. She wasn’t being fair to him.

‘Stop crying,’ he said, his voice harsh as he fought the instinct to pull her into his arms. He didn’t want to feel like this about her, so soft and guilty, and leaving himself open to hurt and disappointment.

She backed away from him. Dashing the tears away with a corner of her shawl she turned and walked away, stiff-backed.

She was almost at the door when he said, ‘Come back. I haven’t finished our discussion.’

She stopped. ‘Then finish it. You have ten seconds.’

He waited, taking a couple of deep slow breaths to hold his anger in check, then said, when the tenth tick of the clock told him his time had expired, ‘I apologize … I hate it when you cry, I never know what I’ve done or said to cause it.’

‘You didn’t say anything to cause it.’

‘Then why the devil are you crying?’

She turned, her face almost tragic. ‘You said you liked me.’

‘Well, what’s so wrong with that when I do like you?’

‘Nothing’s wrong with it. It made me feel happy and sad at the same time and I cried.’

‘You cry over nothing?’

She came back to where he stood and gave him a watery smile. ‘You cry too, you just don’t shed tears. Sometimes you gaze into the distance and your eyes are far away and incredibly sad, as though you’re gazing into your past and trying to find yourself. Saying you liked me was something precious because nobody has said that to me before. It meant a lot to me, like being given a gift. ‘Thank you, Zachariah, may I cry now?’

‘No, you may not … I’d rather see you smile.’

‘You remembered a happy time from your early childhood when Edward went down the banister, didn’t you?’

‘There’s very little of the boy I used to be in this house.’ He spotted a grain of sugar on her delicious mouth. Lifting it with the tip of his finger he drew it into his own mouth. ‘Sugar. I always thought you were sweet.’

She tried not to snort.

‘And don’t you start snivelling over that remark else I’ll throw you out into the snow. You’d better go,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’ve got a meeting with Mr Bolton before dinner.’

‘Perhaps you’ll find a new you in this house if you look hard enough.’