Straw in the Wind (33 page)

‘How very mean of you, Charlotte, especially after all Adam did for you in the past. And if you hadn't married Seth we might have ended up in a workhouse, ourselves. But no . . . because whatever you think of Erasmus Thornton, he wouldn't have thrown us out to fend for ourselves. And however cruelly you treated Nick in the beginning, he's never held it against you.'

Charlotte looked ashamed. ‘It might have been cruel of me, but it was the right thing to do at the time. He knows it, and so do you. The pair of you are perfect together. Now, don't lecture me when I feel so wretched and useless. I'm surprised that Seth is so patient with me.'

‘So am I.' Marianne sighed. ‘Oh, I suppose you'll get over it.'

She couldn't understand why her elder sister didn't want to meet Serafina, though. She was so adamant that Serafina was dead that she couldn't see past it. Apart from the unfortunate circumstance of her birth, Serafina had done nothing to deserve being snubbed like this. Marianne hoped Charlotte would cheer up in the next day or two. Much as she loved her sister, she also loved her husband, and she had no intention of neglecting him for long.

Adam called on Erasmus and Serafina before he left for Harbour House the next morning.

‘I've come to collect that doll of yours, Serafina.'

‘It's in one of the wicker baskets under my bed. It won't take me a minute to fetch it. Why do you want it?'

‘Oh, just in case Charlotte's seen it before.'

‘It's one of your straws blowing in the wind, then?' Erasmus said with a grin.

‘Exactly, you never know when they come in handy. I'll wait here in the hall, Serafina.' When she'd gone he said, ‘When do you leave for Boston, Captain Thornton?'

‘I'm giving temporary command of
Daisy Jane
to my first officer, Thomas Grimshaw for a while. It's not much use having a daughter unless I can get to know her. I'm not taking Serafina sailing with me that's for certain. It's too dangerous an occupation, and she's far too precious.'

‘She is that,' Adam said softly. ‘You've heard of the saying that finders is keepers? Remember that I found Serafina. I'm giving you a year while I get my business in order, which is more than you deserve.'

‘I know.' Erasmus grinned. ‘That's a fine thing you've done, bringing her home to me, Adam. She's got a bit of ginger to her when she gets her dander up, though . . . same as my sister, Daisy, I reckon.'

‘Or yourself, Erasmus. You and your sister are alike in your ways.'

Erasmus held out his hand. ‘Could be, I suppose.'

Serafina dashed down the stairs, a smile on her face. ‘I've wrapped it in a piece of cloth, since I can't picture you walking along with a doll cradled in your arms. I can't imagine what use it will be.'

‘You never know,' he said vaguely. ‘I'll see you both at dinner tonight.'

‘If you see Mr Leighton, would you tell him that it will just be myself and . . .' she offered Erasmus a tentative smile, ‘
my father
. Marianne is at Charlotte's for a few days, and Nick has a previous engagement.

‘Can I come with you to Harbour House, Adam? Charlotte might want to see me.'

‘She doesn't, and I promised I'd go alone this time. Be patient and wait until you're invited.'

He hadn't meant to sound so brusque, and her eyes mirrored the chagrin she felt. ‘Why is it me who has to be patient?'

‘Because I'm fast running out of ideas, and I'm asking you to be. That should be enough.'

‘Hah! I didn't ask you to look for me,' she threw at him, all challenge.

Adam glanced at Erasmus, who grinned and made himself scarce. He then took Serafina in his arms and kissed her softly defiant mouth until she relaxed in his arms. Then he looked into her eyes and saw the laughter in them.

‘Hah, yourself,' he said softly, and she grinned.

The heath was alive with birdsong and the smell of the heath gorses tickled at Adam's nose. Fronds of bracken unfurled and stretched fingers of green towards a blue sky stippled with cloudy white stripes. The tide was coming in. Mud creaked and bubbled as water crept and seeped into all the nooks and crannies.

Up towards the copse Adam could see a thread of smoke filtering through the pines from the gyspy campfires. Some of the travellers were heading for Poole, baskets and sacks of goods over their arms. They stood to one side as he passed, their faces closed and secretive. Some touched their caps, as if in respect.

A hand tugged gently at his sleeve and he gazed into a face that was old and wise, and somehow familiar.

Head to one side, he contemplated her with a smile. ‘Have we met before?'

‘We've heard her name on the wind and my blood will become part of your blood. Buy a sprig of my heather for your sweetheart; in return she'll give you everlasting love and many children.'

‘How many children,' he said with a chuckle, intrigued by this gypsy woman.

She turned his hand over and gazed at the palm. ‘There will be two strong sons and a daughter called after her mother. Her name will be . . .'

‘. . . Serafina,' he said, because he would have no other.

For a moment the wind swirled around their ankles in a circle of leaves and her name was borne away.

The woman laughed and pinned a sprig of white heather to his lapel, murmuring, ‘True love is bound to follow.'

For a moment his eyes met hers, and before the gypsy went on her way he could see the eyes of Serafina gazing back at him.

He must have been bewitched, Adam thought, looking back when he reached Harbour House. He could only see two figures on the heath path, two women who stood together. Both looked like Serafina from where he stood.

Still slightly bemused, he knocked at the door at Harbour House.

Seth Hardy greeted him with a smile of welcome. The successful clay and gravel miner had once been an army colonel. His missing stepson had been the catalyst that had started Adam's association with the Hardy, Honeyman and Thornton families – one that had led him to Serafina. Seth had several men working for him now. Tall, upright with his soldierly bearing, and with a direct and honest manner, he was well on his way to being wealthy, and he commanded respect without even trying.

They shook hands. ‘Charlotte is a little fragile and has asked me to stay with her for support, Adam. And Marianne will be there. I hope you won't mind.'

‘Of course not. I haven't much to offer them as regard to new evidence, just something that might, or might not be of significance to Charlotte. Erasmus has accepted Serafina as his own, and has offered her the legal protection of his name. His lawyer is preparing the papers.'

Charlotte came up behind her husband and her chin went up. ‘Tell Erasmus Thornton that since he wasn't married to our mother, if that girl happens to be our sister – though she can't be, since she's alive and our sister is dead – then she would be a Honeyman not a Thornton.'

Adam tried not to grin at her skewed logic, though Seth did. ‘Although most of my evidence is circumstantial, I imagine there's enough of that to convince the authorities of the integrity of her background, should the need arrive. I imagine Marianne has related most of the details to you both.'

‘With great enthusiasm.' Seth gave a wry smile. ‘To be honest, I don't know why Charlotte won't allow herself to be convinced. I certainly am. But at least Charlotte is up and dressed today, for which I'm thankful. Marianne tends to stir her sister up like a stick in an ants' nest.'

‘She certainly does not,' Charlotte stated.

Marianne was in the drawing room. Charlotte took a seat beside her, looking graceful and lovely, if a little pale. Marianne was, as always, an exquisite creature. He imagined Serafina next to them. There was a subtle, but elusive likeness about her, but Serafina's elfin looks and her haunting brown eyes registered everything she'd ever suffered or felt. The similarity of the sisters, because there was no doubt in his mind now, lay in their intuitiveness, their passion and their need to be loved.

From upstairs came shrieks of laughter and the whoops of their children, and Adam remembered the gypsy portent. He'd have three of his own making the same noise if she was correct.

A terrier dog came to sniff at his ankle as he went in. It gave a short bark of greeting as if it remembered his smell, then retired to its basket, content that he'd do no harm to the occupants of the house.

‘Marianne, we meet again, how lovely to see you. Charlotte, how are you, my dear, and the baby? It's James, isn't it?'

‘Oh, I'm well enough, and James is thriving.' She gave her sister a quick glance and what seemed to be a reassuring smile. ‘It seems ages since you were last here. Would you like some coffee?'

Her reluctance was like a wall between them. She was delaying the moment, and he wanted to know why . . . wondered even if Charlotte knew why, or was it instinct nudging at her? Adam didn't intend to be diverted. Charlotte had strength of mind, but he sensed that he held in his hands the one thing that could find the chink in her armour . . . and so did she, because her glance kept going to the parcel he carried. He was glad that Marianne was there beside Charlotte.

‘Thank you, but it's not long since I had a cup of coffee. I want to show you something.'

‘So I understand.' Her eyes went to the parcel. ‘Is that it?'

He placed it in her lap. She began to unwrap it, then stopped to gaze at him, introducing a little humour into the situation by enquiring, ‘It won't bite, will it?'

‘It's not alive, but I can't guarantee it won't bite, Charlotte.'

‘Oh, dear . . . why do I get the feeling that I'm not going to like this.'

‘How can you not like it when you don't know what it is?' Marianne said. ‘Open the damn thing. I'm dying from curiosity, and I promise I'll save you from whatever's in there.'

‘It's a doll,' Charlotte said, throwing the cloth aside. She looked puzzled. ‘Am I supposed to recognize it? If I am, I'm going to disappoint you since I've never seen it before. She unwrapped the scrap of shawl from the object, gazed at it, then put it to one side and began to examine the doll's clothing.

He saw her hesitate, then she picked the scrap of shawl up again and scrutinized it. Suddenly her breath hissed between her teeth and the colour drained from her cheeks. Harshly, she asked, ‘Where did she get this from?'

‘The doll was given to Serafina by Constance Jarvis when she was six or seven. That piece of shawl was wrapped round it, but Serafina has always had it. She called the doll Charlotte because of the name embroidered on it. Do you recognize it?'

‘Of course I recognize it. It's mine. I embroidered it for the new baby. It was a gift, and it took me ages because I was only just learning to sew.'

‘Oh, Char . . .' Marianne breathed. ‘What more proof do you need?'

‘She was dead, I swear,' Charlotte cried out. ‘I saw it with my own eyes. The baby was lying on the bed, and she was cold . . . so I wrapped her in the shawl and put her in the crib. Then I heard pa coming, he was ranting and raging . . . I hid under the bed. Our mother's blood was coming through the mattress, just slowly, so each drip congealed before the next.' She began to tremble. ‘I remember that Pa hit the crib with his fist and the baby began to cry, so I moved into a dark corner between the wall and the wardrobe, where the light couldn't reach.'

Charlotte placed her hands over her eyes and Marianne slid an arm around her. ‘Oh Charlotte, how awful for you. You must tell us what you saw, for everybody's sake.'

Voice muffled by her hands Charlotte said tremulously, ‘Oh, My God . . . I remember it all now. Pa picked up a pillow and pushed it over the baby's face. He said . . . he said . . .
I'll see you in hell, you Thornton bastard!
'

Seth went to her. ‘That's enough, Adam.'

‘No . . . it's not, I haven't finished,' Charlotte cried out. ‘Let's get it settled once and for all. God knows I've tried to forget it, but I can't, Seth. It comes and goes in little snatches, so I have to push it away to stay sane. I knew I'd have to tell someone one day. I want Adam to know . . . I want Marianne to know, and most of all I want you to know, too, even if you despise me afterwards.'

‘I'll never despise you.'

‘I tried to run, you see, but pa caught me. He bunched my nightdress in his fist, lifted me off my feet, and he looked at me. His face was dazed and his eyes staring. There was spittle at the side of his mouth. He said,
the bastard girl is dead, and she'll be buried on the heath. If you tell anyone what happened, I'll kill you and your sister. Marianne will go first, because she looks like the whore I married.
'

Marianne gasped.

‘He made me promise on my mother's blood, saying the devil would take her soul if I told what I saw. When I promised, his eyes cleared and he sent me back to bed.'

‘Oh, my poor Charlotte,' Marianne whispered.

‘I locked the door and got back into bed with my sister, but I couldn't sleep. After a while I heard pa leave on his horse. I crept back to my mother's room, in case he'd made a mistake and she was still alive. But there was a sheet over her face, and although I watched for the sheet to rise and fall as she breathed, it didn't. The crib was empty, and I knew he'd taken the baby to bury her on the heath, like he said he was going to. She's dead, I tell you. Pa smothered her. I saw him do it.'

Marianne promptly burst into tears. ‘Poor Charlotte, what a burden you've been carrying all these years. Why didn't you tell me all this before?'

‘Because I couldn't remember it all, just bits of it. Seeing that shawl brought it all rushing back.' Through her tears she gazed ruefully at him. ‘I'm sorry, Adam, but she can't be our sister, though it would be wonderful if she were . . . you see, our sister is dead.'