Mr Cavell's Diamond (9 page)

Henry

‘
How are you liking life in the capital?’ asked William Dennett, Henry’s solicitor and close friend.

‘
Oh, you know. Business in the mornings, visiting in the afternoons and a whirlwind of balls, parties and soirees in the evenings. It’s exhausting,’ Henry replied. They were sitting in Henry’s Chelsea house, in the morning room, drinking coffee. Dennett had arrived the night before. The weak winter sun was streaming in through the window, and a good coal fire was burning in the grate.

‘
Too much of a good thing, eh?’

Henry laughed wryly, his laugh turning into a cough
. ‘You know, I’d much rather we didn’t bother with any of the balls or social engagements. I would be far happier back in Worthing, taking dear old Sultan out on the beach every day, and spending evenings at my fireside with a good whiskey. Never did like London much.’

‘
Why live here then?’

‘
For Caroline. I promised her a season.

‘
Ah. Your charming wife. I trust she is enjoying herself?’

Henry put his cup down and regarded Dennett for a while before answering.
‘She is. It’s the life I think she always wanted.’

‘
Well, that’s all right then. Good to keep a wife happy. Isn’t it?’

Henry sighed.
‘If I may be frank with you, I think she’s enjoying it all a little too much. I had not realised quite how, well,
flirtatious
she can be. With everyone she meets. Sometimes she goes a bit too far.’

Dennett shook his head.
‘Are you worrying what people think of her? That’s unlike you, old boy. You knew her background when you married her.’

‘
I did indeed. No –’ Henry broke off, coughing. ‘Sorry. Wretched fire – the smoke gets in my lungs. No, her background doesn’t bother me. But her behaviour does, at times. She acts, not as though she’s married, but as though she’s still in search of a husband.’

‘
That’s not on. You need to take a firmer line with that girl,’ said Dennett. ‘Tell her what’s what. Or stop her going to the balls. Keep her at home, with your eye on her. And I would keep an eye on that cough of yours, too, doesn’t sound good to me. See a doctor, old man.’

Henry nodded without commitment. He had tried talking gently to Caroline about the need to behave decorously in public, but although she’d appeared to agree, his words had no effect. Perhaps because she’d only recently become exposed to polite society, she didn’t really understand how she was supposed to act. If it was up to him, none of it would matter.
But, given his place in society, it
did
matter. Had he made a mistake in marrying her? Would he have married her if she had not been pregnant? If he was brutally honest with himself, he knew that he never would have. He’d been taken in by her looks and flirtatious ways, and now he was paying the price. And no, he didn’t want to see a doctor. Not here in London, where they charged the earth and did you no good at all.

Chapter 8 – January-April 1831

Jemima

It ha
s been a quiet six weeks since the master and the mistress went up to London, and took Franny and Mrs Smith with them. Just me and Sultan left, rattling around in this big house all by ourselves.

When the master t
old me they were going to London I didn’t understand at first. ‘I need a servant to come with us,’ he said, and I thought that meant me. I was scared, for I didn’t want to leave Worthing where I have lived all my life: my family are here, my job is here, and all the people I love are here. London is a big place a long way from home and a long way from the sea, though I believe it has a river running through it.

‘
Mrs Smith will come to London with us,’ he went on, ‘and you will be left here as housekeeper, to look after the house and take care of Sultan. Will you manage?’

I w
as so relieved I could have kissed him. Me, a housekeeper! I don’t mind being left alone here, though I do miss Franny and Mrs Smith. She was born in London so she was happy to get the chance to go back there and visit old friends.

If I
am being truthful, I miss the master a little bit, too.

Sultan and I slip
ped into our ways within a few days. We slept up in my attic room, and got up when the light came, so we slept far later at this time of year than I am used to doing. I would take him on the beach for a run, then we’d go home for breakfast. Then I’d shop – the butcher keeps the scrag ends for Sultan, and I’d buy a chop or a neck fillet or go to the beach fish-sellers for a couple of sprats for myself. Mr Cavell allowed me far more spending-money than I needed, so I was eating well and becoming plump. After shopping I would clean the house, but there was not much cleaning needed with only me here, so by three o’clock Sultan and I were out on the beach again for a game with a stick. Sometimes Frederick would join us and skirmish almost as wild as the dog. My sister Emmy sometimes called on me, or my Ma, and I would act like the lady of the house showing them in, lighting a fire in the front room and serving them tea. I gave Sultan his meat when darkness came. Then I’d light candles, cook my own dinner and do some sewing or mending or polishing of silver, before going up the stairs to my bed with Sultan at my heels.

It
was a happy and easy time for me. So when the post boy came with a letter for me one morning it threw me into a pickle. The letter was from the master and in it he said he was coming back and to expect him on the coach that evening, and for me to make sure the house was ready and to make a dinner. Just for him – the mistress, Franny and Mrs Smith were not coming back.

Well
, I ran round all day faster than Sultan after his tail, buying leg of mutton for the master’s dinner, cleaning grates and setting fires, airing bed linen, sweeping and dusting till the house gleamed. Sultan whined to go out on the beach but I had no time to play, so as soon as he’d done his business I called him back inside, and he went and sulked by the fire in the kitchen.

I ha
d the meat cooked and the fires lit, and my clean cap on when the master arrived. I heard him first, coughing and groaning as he almost fell in through the door. He told the cab man to put his box down in the hall, then he went in the drawing room and collapsed on a sofa. I poured him a brandy.

‘
Thank you, Jemima,’ he said. ‘That will...’ He broke off to cough again, and I fetched a cushion to tuck behind his head. ‘Dinner smells delicious,’ he said when the coughing stopped, ‘but I fear I will not be able to eat much. Bring me a small plate of food to me here, will you? I’ll not use the dining room tonight.’

‘
Yes sir,’ I said, and curtseyed. I added a log to the fire and went to fetch his dinner. Sultan followed me back and was joyful to see his master again, jumping and barking and wanting to lick Mr Cavell’s face. I had to calm him down as I could see the master didn’t want to be bothered much by his dog now, though he did scratch him behind his ears for a moment.

The master only
ate a bite or two of his dinner, and then he wanted me to help him upstairs and into his bed. I agreed it was the best place for him, poor soul, his cough is one that could rattle the dead. I was scared it might be the consumption and I asked should I fetch the doctor, but the master said no, he reckoned he’d recover now he was back at home and beside the sea.

But late evening his cough g
ot worse and the fever came. I sat at his side all night, putting cool cloths on his forehead and trying to drip water in his mouth. His night-clothes were drenched with sweat, and I didn’t know whether to open the window to cool the room or stoke up the fire to warm it. I felt more alone now in the house even though the master was here, than I ever did when it was just me and Sultan. I wanted to send for the doctor but there was no one to send for I dared not leave his side.

When it
became light, the master was sleeping more calmly. I pulled open a curtain and looked out – the sea was shiny and flat and the day was bright and cheerful like it didn’t know how sick my master was and how worried I was. I spied a boy on the street kicking a stone and I ran down to the front door and called to him to fetch the physician William Humble who lived at The Steyne. I told him to hurry and gave him two pennies for his trouble. He was about to run when I had another thought and told him to call on my Ma in Prospect Row first, and send her to me.

The boy must
have run like the wind for my Ma was with me in just a few minutes. She came straight up to see the patient.

‘
He must have air,’ she said, opening the window. ‘Keep the room cool. Feed him on boiled eggs and milk. Does he cough up blood?’

‘
No,’ I told her, ‘no blood.’

‘
Then we can hope it is not the consumption,’ she said. ‘Go and cook him some eggs for when he wakes, while I make him more comfortable.’

I
went downstairs, and had the eggs on to boil when Mr Humble arrived. He was an old man and wheezed so much as he climbed the stairs I feared I would soon have two patients to nurse. In Mr Cavell’s room he straightway closed the window and told me to build up the fire. ‘Keep the room warm at all times,’ he said, when he came back down. ‘Give him only water to drink. I will make up some medicine for him, but I fear it will only prolong his suffering, not end it.’

He sigh
ed loudly. ‘Your master has the consumption. You should write and call his wife back. She should be at his side at this time. I’ll return later with the medicine and my bill.’

I g
ot him his cloak and hat and he left the house, whistling. I didn’t like this doctor.

When the door close
d behind him my Ma scoffed at what the doctor said. ‘I nursed three or four people through consumption, and they all were coughing up blood. Your master ain’t. Well, my girl, he’s your master and your patient so you make your choice whether you follow the doctor’s words or mine. I’ll be off now, I’ll be back this afternoon to sit with your master and let you get some rest.’

She kiss
ed me on the cheek and left. I went up to the master’s room and opened the windows again.

The master w
oke up at noon, and he seemed better. His skin were cool and dry, and although he were still coughing, it seemed not as bad as the night before.

‘
Jemima, have I slept all morning?’ he said, consulting his pocket watch I had left on a table beside his bed.

‘
Yes, sir, even when the doctor was here,’ I said.

‘
Doctor? Surely I did not…’ he break off to cough again, ‘…need a doctor? Am I that sick?’ A worried look crossed his face. ‘Did the doctor say… is it…’ He coughed again, and fell back against the pillow.

He still ha
s not coughed blood. I straightened myself up, looked him in the eye and said, ‘Do not be a-feared, sir, you do not have the consumption.’ I hoped he believed me, and even more, I prayed my Ma were right.

‘
Well then, that’s good news,’ he said. ‘Now, might I trouble you for a little something to eat?’

I smile
d and curtseyed and ran downstairs to make scrambled eggs, with toast and a glass of milk, just like Ma said. He ate it all, and told me he felt much better, and asked me to bring up the newspaper.

I left him reading it, and told him to ring the bell should he need for anything more.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said, with a mock salute that made me blush and have to swallow a giggle.

I w
as busy setting the fire in the drawing room in case Mr Cavell would want to come downstairs in the evening when the doorbell rang. I thought it would be either my Ma or the doctor, so I scurried to answer it without smoothing my hair or straightening my apron. But it was Frederick, he was standing there with his cap in  hand and his face all red and sweating between the freckles. I started to tell him Sultan and I could not go to the beach today but he held up a hand to shush me.

‘
Jemima, there is something I must ask of you,’ he said, and I blushed too for I feared I knew what was coming. ‘It is time, I think, that I took a wife, and Jemima, you are the wife I most want to take. Do you say yes?’ This came out all of a rush in one breath like he’d been practising it.

Oh, but he
is a sweet boy and I do like his company when we play on the beach along-of Sultan, but to be his wife? No one can see the future but I do believe sometimes we know what can
never
be in our futures, and a life living in a fisherman’s cottage along-of Frederick is not what the fortune-teller told for me. You’ll turn your back on it, she said, but she meant I’d turn my back on a fellow I loved, and for all his sweetness and freckle-face I know I don’t love Frederick.

‘
Frederick, you do me an honour I don’t deserve,’ I began, but then stopped for hope were building up in his eyes. I gave just the tiniest shake of my head, trying to let him down in the gentlest of ways. ‘Frederick, thank you for asking but…’ Well praise the Lord for the word ‘but’ for it seemed to make him understand without me having to actually say that most terrible of words: ‘no’. He nodded and put his cap back on his head.

‘
Be seeing you then, Jemima,’ he said, and with that he walked away. I was glad to see he were holding his head high. Some other more worthy girl will find herself in luck before too long, I reckon. The sigh I let out when he had gone was enough to extinguish a bonfire.

I had barely closed the door when the doorbell rang again and this time it was both the doctor and my Ma who had met in the street and walked the last steps together. The doctor scolded me a dish of tongues for the open window and made me shut it. Ma just stood and smiled. Mr Cavell paid the doctor his bill, inspected the medicine the doctor gave him and nodded at all the advice. When the doctor went, he threw the medicine in the fireplace.

‘
Humble is a quack,’ he said. ‘You did well to call a doctor but next time, send for the other fellow. Or just fetch your very capable and sensible mother. Thank you, Mrs Brown, for all you have done for me. Open that window up again would you? I like a breath of fresh air in here.’