Going Home (13 page)

He bowed. ‘We have met, Miss Linton,’ he said softly. ‘But have not been introduced.’

She extended her hand and he took it and held it. ‘Indeed, we have!’ she said. ‘What a coincidence.’

‘Met?’ Ralph exclaimed. ‘When? Where? You never said, Jack.’

‘In York.’ Jack kept hold of Amelia’s hand and looked steadily at her. ‘Quite by chance. I had lost my way and Miss Linton directed me. And of course I didn’t tell you.’ He smiled at Amelia and his eyes danced with mischief. ‘A man must have some secrets, even from his best friend.’

Amelia was so cross with herself. She had decided that she would travel by carrier from Hull to the village of Thorngumbald and then ask if the driver would take her on towards home. But he was of a surly disposition and said he hadn’t the time. He obviously didn’t recognize her as Miss Linton from Elmswell Manor and perversely she didn’t inform him, otherwise she was sure he would have been much more obliging.

She had been quite confident that the walk would be a mere nothing. But she had not reckoned on the weight of her bag or on her unsuitable shoes and before she was halfway home her feet were aching, her arms were stiff from carrying the bag and a breeze had got up,
blowing off her hat several times and untidying her hair. Had she thought for one moment that guests had arrived, she would have crept in by the back door and up the stairs to make herself presentable.

As it was, she knew that her face was flushed, her hat was askew, her chignon had fallen down and her shoes were muddy. I don’t care, she grouched, whilst keeping a polite smile on her face. They must take me as I am. But she was astounded to meet the dark-skinned man she had imprudently described as beautiful to the Misses Fielding, standing next to Cousin Ralph.

Presently she excused herself and went upstairs to change and her mother rang for Ginny to show the visitors to their rooms.

‘Mrs Linton,’ Jack began. ‘Is it convenient for me to stay? I know that you didn’t expect me.’

‘Oh but we did!’ Emily Linton replied. ‘Meg wrote to us and said that you were travelling with Ralph. Your room has been ready for the last week. We expected you sooner.’

‘We went first to London then to York, Aunt Emily.’ Ralph explained. ‘I have started looking for details of my mother already. But I wanted to ask your advice and that of Uncle Philip. I have discovered that the charge of attempted murder was brought by my mother’s husband, who presumably is my natural father.’ A look of pain crossed his face. ‘He may not wish to see
me – if he is still alive. Does he even know if I exist? And why did he not plead for clemency for my mother?’

His aunt turned her gaze towards the window. Rooks were cawing and thrushes and blackbirds were flying past, trailing pieces of straw in their beaks. ‘There are no whys or wherefores in reasoning why men or women act the way they do,’ she replied in a whisper. ‘I know that better than most. I was transported because of a man’s antagonism towards me. He was a man with hate in his heart, a man without remorse.’

‘Where is he now?’ Ralph ventured. He had heard of this man from his mother.

‘He spent time in gaol and then we paid off his debts to free him, to give him another chance.’ Her face was pale as she spoke of the man who had blighted her life. ‘He is dead now. He made nothing of his life afterwards and became involved with men even more wicked than he. He betrayed them and was killed, so we heard.’

She glanced towards Ralph and he saw sadness written on her face. ‘If you want peace of mind and answers to your questions, Ralph, then you must seek your father out. He might well have been a good man and your mother a wicked woman. Or perhaps the other way around. My husband will help you, he has had experience in these matters.’

She gave a sudden smile which lit up her face,
and he could see that she had eventually found peace. ‘I was very lucky. Philip never gave in until he proved my innocence. Perhaps you will do the same for your mother.’

I’M NOT SURE
what to make of Cousin Ralph, Amelia thought as she took off her hat and threw it onto a chair in her bedroom. He seems very sure of himself, that square jaw shows confidence and self-will. But Mr Mungo is charming. How strange that we should have met in York. She felt a warm surge of pleasure. I haven’t changed my opinion of him. He
is
beautiful. And handsome. A smile rose to her lips and she glanced in the mirror. Her smile disappeared. Oh, what a fright I look!

All but May appeared for supper and the two guests, after resting and changing their travelling clothes, took their places at the dining table.

‘I will come with you to York, if you wish, Ralph,’ Philip Linton said, having been primed of the situation by his wife, ‘and to visit your father if you find him.’

‘That’s good of you, sir,’ Ralph acknowledged. ‘I would appreciate some help in going through
the records. I’m not much good at that kind of thing. Too impatient, you know. Jack has offered to come with me if we find my father’s whereabouts but we haven’t decided whether it’s a good idea or not. Because of Jack’s colour, you see.’

How churlish! Amelia was shocked. How can he say such a thing in front of Mr Mungo? And he’s supposed to be a friend! She glanced at Jack Mungo to see his reaction but he was chatting to the twins and didn’t appear to have heard Ralph’s remark. Then he turned towards her and she determined to give him her full attention to make up for Ralph Hawkins’s rudeness.

‘Did you enjoy your stay in York, Miss Linton?’ Jack asked. ‘I found it charming. So ancient.’

She agreed. ‘I love it. Although I wouldn’t wish to live there permanently. I love the countryside, you see. I’m happier in the wide landscape, and below the vast skies which are here in Holderness.’

‘I must admit that I am most impressed by the vista,’ he smiled. ‘I was glad to escape from London for that very reason. Here, I’m sure that I can smell the sea. It isn’t very far, I think?’

‘A few miles only,’ she replied. ‘And the River Humber isn’t too far.’

‘Then I will go,’ he said. ‘Perhaps tomorrow, unless there is anything planned?’ He turned to Amelia’s mother. ‘Would you have any objections,
Mrs Linton? I can be up early and be back for luncheon.’

‘Perhaps we could all go,’ Amelia said eagerly. ‘Could we take the carriage, Papa, and go to Spurn?’

‘I was going to walk,’ Jack broke in. ‘I don’t wish to inconvenience anyone.’

‘It’s too far to walk!’ she exclaimed and thought of her enforced walk from Thorngumbald and the blister on her heel.

Her mother gave a sudden laugh. ‘No, it isn’t,’ she said. ‘I’ve walked to the river from here. Many years ago, of course. I wouldn’t like to do it now!’

‘Jack walks for miles,’ Ralph revealed. ‘Or rather, he runs. When I ride on horseback he runs alongside and always keeps up.’

Like a little dog, I suppose, Amelia griped, as she saw her plans disintegrating.

‘I’m afraid I shall need the carriage tomorrow,’ her father interrupted. ‘But perhaps the next day?’

So it was decided. Jack would go off on his walkabout; to get to know the countryside, he explained. Ralph would go over with Philip the details which he had gathered, before he left for the day’s business. Amelia could see her day being boring. It appeared that everyone but her would be occupied.

But, to her delight, as she looked out of her window at noon she saw Jack running up the drive and across the lawn, and she hurried down
the stairs and into the garden to greet him. He had risen before dawn and set off before anyone else, even the servants, was awake. ‘I went towards a place called Waxholme,’ he said. ‘But it was falling into the sea. Then I ran down the coast towards a small town they called Withernsea. It was very cold!’

Amelia gazed at him. He was most improperly dressed for the climate, wearing only a pair of cotton trousers rolled halfway up his calves, and a white linen shirt. She lowered her eyes and saw that his feet were bare, his toes were brown and firm and she wondered if his soles showed pale as he ran. He must have caused quite a stir amongst the locals, she thought.

‘How did you know which way to go?’ she asked.

‘I have seen a map,’ he explained. ‘I had a tutor when I was a boy, who taught me about England. He was an ex-convict’, he added, ‘who had once been a teacher. My schooling was excellent, as good as Ralph’s.’

‘Oh, yes, I didn’t mean to imply—’ she broke off in confusion.

‘Please, don’t upset yourself, Miss Linton,’ he said. ‘It’s just that sometimes people think that I am an ignorant native.’ Before she could think of a suitable reply, he went on, ‘When I asked a man in Withernsea what was the name of the place, he stared at me for so long that I thought he had no tongue or that he was deaf. Then he started to shout at me as though
I
were deaf!’

‘You’ll be the talk of Withernsea and all of Holderness,’ she pronounced.

‘Yes, I think so. The man I spoke to will be a celebrity and the story of the black savage will expand. I will grow to eight feet tall and be covered in hair!’

His skin was dark gold, she decided. The colour of honey. ‘But – you are not black,’ she stammered.

He reached for her hand and held it. ‘I am black, Miss Linton, in spite of my light skin. Don’t be embarrassed,’ he said softly. ‘It is what I am used to and I don’t mind. In Australia the Aborigines are considered to be an inferior race compared with the English. In Britain, blind eyes were turned away from the convicts, so too in my country, white faces turn away from the Aborigines. We are not there, we are as nothing. But I know who and what I am. One day perhaps we will be seen as we really are.’

She withdrew her hand. ‘I hope so.’ She lowered her eyes from his. She felt that he could see into her soul and she didn’t want him to. She didn’t want him to because she knew that she would be found wanting.

At luncheon, Sam and his mother Mary Edwards and his half-sister Deborah Francis appeared. They all lived together at the gatehouse but often joined the Lintons for luncheon or dinner.

Deborah, a middle-aged lady with childlike behaviour, stifled a scream when she saw Jack,
then she carefully circled him, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open. She darted forward and touched him and as swiftly drew away and stood at Sam’s side. ‘Who are you?’ she asked. ‘Why do you look as you do?’

Amelia thought she would die of embarrassment. They were all used to Deborah’s peculiar ways but strangers found her odd.

Jack smiled. ‘I am from another country.’ His voice was soft and encouraging as if he was talking to a child, which he was. Deborah had never properly grown up. ‘I am from Australia.’

‘Emily has been to Australia,’ Deborah declared. ‘But she doesn’t look like you!’ She glanced at Ralph. ‘Are you from Australia too?’

Ralph nodded. ‘I am, Miss Francis,’ he replied and anticipated her next question. ‘But my family have not lived there as long as Jack’s have.’

‘My family have lived here for hundreds and hundreds of years,’ Deborah declared with an encompassing sweep of her arms. ‘And now Emily is looking after it for us, aren’t you, Emily? For me and for Sam.’

‘That’s right, Deborah.’ Emily smiled at her. ‘Of course I am. Now, would you like to come and sit here beside me?’

Deborah shook her head. ‘No thank you. I will sit by Sam and Mary so that I can watch them.’ She nodded towards Jack and Ralph.

‘Our relationship is a little difficult to explain,’ began Mary Edwards. ‘I am Sam’s mother, and
his father was also Deborah’s father. And now we all live together as one happy family, don’t we Deborah?’ Deborah nodded and tucked her arm contentedly into Mary’s.

‘And am I right in thinking that you are also related to my father and Aunt Emily?’ Ralph asked.

‘Indeed,’ Mary replied. ‘Emily and Joe’s father, your grandfather, was my cousin, so even you and I, Mr Hawkins, are relations of a sort.’

Ralph pondered and glanced at Aunt Emily, then said, ‘I fear not, Mrs Edwards. My family relationship is also difficult to explain, but I am not Joe and Meg’s son. They adopted me, and that is why I am in England, to try to find out about my natural parents.’

A letter came from Mrs Boyle the next day thanking the Lintons for the invitation to visit them, and saying that she and her daughter would be travelling north the following week. ‘We shall travel by railway train,’ she wrote. ‘Phoebe has worked out that we shall arrive at the Hull station at four o’clock on the Friday afternoon. If Mr Hawkins and Mr Mungo are available to meet us we should be most grateful, but if it is not convenient, then we shall hire a carriage to bring us to your home. I am so looking forward to meeting you, Mrs Linton, and passing on greetings from my dear friend, Meg Hawkins.’

‘I don’t understand at all,’ Emily said to Philip
when they were alone. ‘She sounds so nice. How can she be married to that dreadful man?’

‘Everyone makes mistakes,’ Philip smiled. ‘Perhaps she made one when she married Boyle. We shall find out, won’t we? Anyway, we must meet her at the railway station.’

In the days before the Boyles’ arrival, Philip took Ralph to York to search through the court records of Rose Elizabeth Scott and to try to find Edward Scott’s present address, if he was still alive.

They found his name in a directory of business, trade and professional inhabitants of York, where he was listed as a confectioner with an address in Coney Street. They sought out the shop but over the door the name read Brown and Son.

Philip went into the shop to enquire. ‘Oh, Scott’s been long gone,’ said the shopkeeper as he weighed out a bag of honeycomb toffee for a small boy. ‘Four years I’ve been here. I bought the business from him, paid top price as well I don’t mind telling you. He’s a sharp one is that fellow. He used to have another shop down in Stonegate which his wife ran.’

He took payment from the child and then, lowering his voice, added, ‘He’d an eye for the ladies, that one. Had a fancy woman for years even when he was married. His wife died and then I believe he married again a couple of years ago. I heard they went to live out Nunthorpe way.’

‘It can’t be the same person,’ Ralph said as they walked towards Stonegate. ‘The shopkeeper said that Scott’s wife had died.’