Trade Winds (Choc Lit) (19 page)

‘You’re turning maudlin, man,’ he muttered to himself. That wouldn’t get him anywhere. No, the time had come for decisive action and there was no turning back now.

‘Jess? Jessamijn, where are you?’

Hearing her mother calling from the upstairs landing, Jess came hurrying out of the kitchen. She had been helping the cook to prepare a list of provisions needed from the market the following day. ‘I’m here, is something the matter?’

‘James is still unwell and seems to be taking a turn for the worse. Could you send someone to fetch the apothecary, please? Tell them to hurry. James is as flushed as if he’d been in the fire and needs a physic of some sort.’ Katrijna was wringing her hands, her forehead creased with worry lines and her pale blue eyes frantic.

‘Oh, dear. Yes, right away,
Moeder
.’

Jess swallowed a sigh of impatience. Katrijna fretted at the slightest sign of illness in her two younger children, having lost three of Jess’s siblings at an early age. This was probably yet another instance of her worrying about nothing. However, she knew there wouldn’t be any peace until Katrijna had been reassured by a professional that James was not suffering from any fatal disease. Jess sent a maid out with instructions to bring the apothecary back at once. Then she made her way upstairs to try and keep her mother calm in the meantime.

The two little boys shared the nursery and when Jess came through the door she could see it was in chaos. Ramsay was sitting in the middle of his bed howling, while a harassed maid ran back and forth doing Katrijna’s bidding. Katrijna herself was holding little James. The poor mite was flushed in the face and trying to cry in between bouts of coughing. Twin rivers of mucus ran down from his nose into his mouth. He wasn’t a pretty sight.

‘Shall I take him for a while, Mama?’ Jess never minded helping out in the nursery. She had come to love James as much as she adored Ramsay, and normally the youngster came to her quite willingly.

‘No, he won’t go to anyone but me. Could you see to Ramsay, do you think? He simply won’t stop crying. And where’s Mrs Forbes when I need her?’

‘I’ll go and find out.’ Jess picked Ramsay up and began to croon softly to him, rocking him as she walked out of the room in search of her companion. He too was full of the cold, sneezing and coughing repeatedly, but he clung to her and calmed down slightly. Jess sighed. It looked like it was going to be a long night. She found Mrs Forbes coming up the stairs with a tray of hot drinks and all manner of other things that had obviously been ordered by Katrijna.

‘Mama is asking for you,’ Jess told her. ‘She’s in a bit of a panic.’

‘Aye, don’t I know it,’ Mrs Forbes muttered darkly. ‘Nothing new there and I’m coming as fast as I can.’

‘Yes, I’m sure you are. I think I’ll take Ramsay to my room, he’ll never get any sleep otherwise. The apothecary should be on his way.’

‘Fine, you do that.’

Ramsay soon settled down when tucked into Jess’ own bed. He listened with drooping eyelids to the beginning of a story while she undressed and combed out her hair. Long before the end of the tale, he was sound asleep. She lay down next to him, listening to the sounds of footsteps coming and going in the corridor outside her room.

Ramsay was snoring, his blocked nose hindering his breathing, but Jess didn’t think he was seriously ill as his forehead wasn’t very hot. She prayed all would be well with little James too. The boy seemed particularly prone to disease, which was probably why Katrijna fretted over him so. Jess knew her mother would be devastated if anything happened to either boy. It wasn’t something she wanted to even contemplate either, but she was afraid James wasn’t very strong.

‘Please, dear God, spare him,’ she prayed. ‘He is so small and innocent.’

She dozed off, but was woken some time later by Ramsay coughing as if his little lungs were going to burst. A series of short, hacking coughs came first. Then a long, deeply indrawn breath, which made a strange whooping noise. Finally more coughing until he gagged.

‘Dear, oh dear, Ramsay.’ She sat him up and made him bend forward in order to ease his breathing, while massaging his back with soothing motions. ‘What are we going to do with you?’

He began to cry, muttering about his tummy hurting, which was no wonder she thought. He was probably using all his stomach muscles to help him cough and it was hard work for such a small body. She stroked his silky, dark hair and pulled him close to comfort him.

‘I tell you what, shall I get you some warm milk with honey? Would you like that? It might soothe your throat and make you go back to sleep again.’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Right, well, you lie down again and I’ll be back as soon as I can.’ She put her own pillow under his in order to raise him up a little. She knew that helped when someone was suffering with a cough. Then she tucked the covers securely around him and kissed his soft cheek. ‘All right?’

He nodded, looking tired and wan in the moonlight, and she wrapped her shawl around her and hurried off towards the kitchen. Ramsay was a strong little boy. Although she was fairly sure now that he was suffering from whooping cough, she wasn’t too worried about him. James was a different matter. How was a tiny body such as his going to withstand that sort of coughing? She remembered having the disease herself as an eight-year-old. It had lasted for weeks and quite exhausted her. She shook her head and tried not to think about it. For now, all she could do was look after Ramsay until morning.

Chapter Sixteen

In the darkness of the early December morning, Killian made his way to the warehouse as usual. The weather had turned freezing in the last week and the fresh-smelling air was so cold it hurt the back of his throat if he breathed in too quickly. Huge flakes of snow swirled all around him. They blanketed the ground in a thick, lustrous layer that felt soft to walk on and made the normally dirty cobbles look pristine.

He huddled into his woollen cloak and felt grateful for the thick knitted sweater which Mrs Ljung had persuaded him to accept as a gift. She spent a lot of time making them for local fishermen and their families. When she saw him huddling by his tile stove every evening with a plaid around his shoulders, she decided to give her latest one to him instead.

‘You’ll catch your death if you’re not properly dressed here,’ she told him sternly.

‘I’m wearing several layers of clothing, Mrs Ljung, just like I would in the Highlands.’ But somehow it had never felt quite this cold in Scotland. Perhaps it was because Gothenburg was on the coast and there was a constant sea breeze. Or because Sweden was slightly further north. In any case, the scratchy woollen garment which he had hidden under his jacket was a godsend.

He opened the door to the warehouse with hands that were frozen despite the gloves he was wearing. Almost immediately he became aware of raised voices once again, and frowned at the sight of Miss van Sandt’s maid standing by the bottom of the stairs. The girl was fidgeting and staring at the floor, obviously anxious. He ignored her and quickly made his way up to the office, determined to make himself known this time. As he stepped inside, he found Fergusson bellowing at the top of his voice at a defiant-looking, but very pale, Miss van Sandt. Her stepfather was almost incandescent with rage, his dark hair standing on end as if he’d been tearing at it with his fingers and the deep-set eyes scorching. Holm stood by the window trying his best to be inconspicuous, his thin frame almost blending in with the surroundings. The Swede’s pale gaze, however, was lit up with concern and his forehead creased.

‘And furthermore, you should be at home helping your mother, who is at her wit’s end with the boys so ill. Not gallivanting about in the darkness on your own and poking your nose in where it’s not wanted. I warned you about this before and you knew the consequences. Now go and pack your bags, we’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.’

Killian looked from one face to another, wondering whether to announce his presence or not, but just then Fergusson caught sight of him.

‘Ah, Kinross, there you are. My stepdaughter was just leaving. Perhaps you’d be so kind as to escort her and her maid back to my house? And make sure she doesn’t take any detours, won’t you,’ he added. ‘I’m afraid I have some matters to sort out here this morning before a meeting with Mr Campbell, or I’d see to it myself.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Killian held open the door for Miss van Sandt and she stepped past him without saying a word, her head held high and cheeks burning. She threw her stepfather a look of loathing before descending the stairs, but he had turned away and didn’t notice. Killian saw Holm shake his head at her and wondered what was going on.

This was not the time for questions, however, so he said nothing. Instead he concentrated on whisking Miss van Sandt away from the warehouse. Once outside, he offered her his arm as any polite gentleman would and they set off towards her home. The maid followed without a word, trailing a few yards behind them out of earshot. Miss van Sandt was still in a temper and seemed reluctant to accept his help at first. In the end, she placed her gloved hand on his sleeve, a mere touching of fingers to cloth. But when she nearly slipped on an icy patch her grip became firmer and she took his arm properly.

‘Careful, Miss van Sandt. The snow hides those treacherous pockets of ice,’ he warned, judging it safe to speak by now, although he kept his voice low so that there was no possibility of the maid overhearing.

‘I know, but they’re not as treacherous as some people I could mention,’ she muttered, her jaw set in a stubborn line.

‘Possibly, but I thought we agreed you wouldn’t come to the warehouse again. May I ask why you did so this morning?’

She stayed silent for a moment, and he wondered if she was going to refuse to reply. Then she sighed and it all came pouring out.

‘Very well, I know it was ill-judged of me and I shouldn’t have done it, but I acted on pure impulse. I found something last night, you see, and I couldn’t wait to tell Albert. Since both my little brothers are ill and the house in an uproar, it was really easy to slip out for a while. Especially now Mrs Forbes is poorly as well and no one was paying attention to me. How was I supposed to know my stepfather would leave home when my mother is so distraught? He usually tries to comfort her, but of course I didn’t know about his important meeting. He caught me in the office and ... well, you saw the rest.’

‘Did he find you talking to Mr Holm?’

‘No, luckily Albert had popped downstairs for a moment. I was looking through one of the ledgers on his desk, just to pass the time, you know. I wanted to check whether I could still remember how to do the sums and so on as my father taught me. Robert thought I was snooping.’

‘I see. And if he really does have something to hide, then I can understand his anger at finding you there.’

‘Oh, but that’s just it − he does! Last night I was looking after Ramsay and he started to cough a lot suddenly, waking us both. I went downstairs to make him a hot drink and when I passed Robert’s study, the door was open. He must have forgotten to close it when he went upstairs. Well, with my mother in the state she’s in, it’s no wonder if he had to leave his work in a hurry.’

‘That bad, is it?’

‘Yes, my brothers are very ill with the whooping cough. Poor Ramsay is coughing his lungs out and as for James ... well, he’s in a bad way and I’m very afraid for him.’ She paused to wipe away a few sudden tears, then took a deep breath. ‘Anyway, I could see Robert had left his desk in disarray, which is very unusual for him. You must know how tidy he is, and there were papers strewn everywhere. I went in and had a very quick look around. Would you believe it, right in the middle of his desk there was a letter from Anders Milner, the magistrate, assuring Robert that he’d never tell a soul.’

Killian asked, ‘Tell a soul what exactly?’

‘Well, he didn’t say, only that Robert had no need to remind him of his obligations. And as long as Robert kept his part of the bargain, he could count on Mr Milner’s discretion. I had the feeling he wasn’t best pleased to be reminded. The tone was waspish, if you know what I mean.’

‘Hm, interesting. That would fit in well with my blackmail theory.’

‘Blackmail? You think Robert has a hold on Mr Milner somehow?’ She stopped and stared at him.

Killian nodded. ‘Yes. Mr Holm told me Milner is known as an honest man and he’s been a friend of your family for a long time. Therefore, the only way he would do you harm would be if he was being coerced. At least that’s how I see it.’

‘I’m sure you’re right. That does make sense.’

They walked on in contemplative silence for a while, then Killian asked, ‘Did you have a chance to tell Mr Holm then?’

‘Only that I’d found something, but not what it was. He thought he heard a noise, so he went to check and then Robert arrived. Wretched man …’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll talk to Mr Holm as soon as I can.’

‘Thank you.’ She sighed deeply. ‘I wanted to ask Albert about something else too, but now it’s too late. I’ve been thinking about this East India venture you’re going on.’

‘Oh, yes. What about it?’

‘I wondered if he could somehow get his hands on the same sum as my dowry so I could invest it. I know my stepfather would never consider that, but I thought it was too good an opportunity to miss. It’s probably the only way I’d ever increase my money and my chances of a good marriage.’