Race Before the Wind

Copyright © Jill Salkeld 1988

Part Two: 1816-1822

The Venturer's Agent

Chapter Eleven

Jessica took breakfast with the Veritys, but would not answer their unspoken questions, not caring to boast of success until Tom proved it by his actions. Yet this was mere superstition; she trusted him completely, and sang to herself as she went outside to hunt for Luke and Honor among the outbuildings. Calling them would not bring a response; they heard what they chose to hear.

She saw Tom when he was still half a mile away, riding hard along the lane from Lymington across the flat marshlands. He had come, most probably, to help Trekker unload the kegs into Hicks' boathouse.

The wind was fiercely cold, flattening the salt-grass. Jessica shivered and did not mind, for he was hers at last, and neither of them need ever be lonely again.

He reined in beside her, dragging at the horse's mouth with unwonted savagery; and she knew then, before he said a word, that her bright plans for their future together had not survived the dawn.

"You didn't tell her," she cried out. "You didn't tell her!"

He slid to the ground, his face haggard from a long inward battle. "Louisa is carrying my child. In God's name, Jess, how can I leave her now?"

She wanted to scream at him: You have a son and daughter who need you. Will you give them up for your wife's whey-faced brat?

But no woman would keep Tom's love by holding him in chains. Neither he nor the twins would ever learn the truth from her lips.

"So we've finally lost the game," she said, "and Louisa has won. I should be grateful, shouldn't I, that we had last night?"

"Jess....." He reached out to her, and then dropped his hand. "I love you," he said, his voice cracking, "I love you."

"That's not enough, is it? You must keep your precious honour too."

"You must see that I can't leave her."

"And you must see," she said, "that I can't wait for you any more, Tom Elderfield. I've had my fill of that."

His despair was overlaid by appalled comprehension. "Jess, don't go to Wickham because of this. God knows I've no right to say it, but -"

"No, you have no right. You forfeited that."

"He's a bastard. He'll break you -"

"And you wouldn't, I suppose, with your conscience and your honour. Lord Wickham may have his faults, but he puts my interest above those of any other woman, and that's virtue I rate highly."

"You said.... you wouldn't share me with Louisa. But Wickham is married, and you'd be his mistress."

"His, yes. Not yours."

His face contorted. "Jesse, why?"

Jessica could have told him that she would not be jealous of Wickham's wife, for the Earl was nothing to Jess; only a handsome face, and the promise of a fine house, where her children might grow up with all the advantages that were seldom laid in the path of penniless bastards.

She could have asked him, also, how he dared to offer her second best, after his vow to make her his bride in all but law.

But she said only, "Last night I would have died with you, out there by Hurst Castle, and died happy. I loved you more than life. Women are such fools."

"You can't mean that," he whispered, "You can't just stop...."

"Stop loving you?" She raised a mocking smile and lifted her chin, daring him to doubt her word. "Just watch me."

And she turned her back on him, not in hatred but because pride alone had goaded her to inflict such a wound and she could not relish his suffering.

"Watch me, Tom Elderfield," she murmured, too low for him to hear, as she walked straight-shouldered to the windmill that was the twins' usual hiding-place. "Just you watch me."

Three weeks later, Tom learned from Rachel Verity that Jessica and the twins had moved to Cowes; not to her brother's modest rooms above a bakery, but to a large house overlooking the Solent. Officially, she was receiving financial aid from the Earl of Wickham, a friend of the family. Unofficially, the air fizzed with scandal at the mere mention of Jessica Tandy's name. Tom knew she would not care; the front of respectability would be mainly for the children's sake.

With Louisa, Tom tried desperately to behave as if nothing had happened. He did not refer to his conduct on the morning after the storm, and Louisa seemed deliberately to avoid doing so, as though her suspicions could have no basis in truth while they remained unspoken. She became more and more withdrawn. Perhaps, Tom thought, one could blame her pregnancy, for she had no inclination for anything much except reclining listlessly on sofas. Even conversation tired her. She read a great deal, as she had done as a young girl. Sometimes when he spoke to her, it appeared to Tom that she dragged herself by an effort of will from the unreal world she inhabited, where nothing could hurt her.

Yet at other times, Louisa would sit smiling to herself in secret, and once when he came into the room she said, folding her hands over the small mound of her stomach, "Isn't it wonderful, Tom? We're going to be so happy, aren't we, the three of us?"

"Of course we are," he said, and patted her head in passing.

"You do want this baby, don't you?"

"Darling, what a question! Doesn't every man want a son? Though a daughter will do just as well, to be going on with."

"Oh please, let us see this one into the world before we think about the next!"

He had made her laugh, however, which few things did nowadays, and he was relieved to find her content with his answer.

She became more nervous than ever before about his trips abroad, and less wary of admitting it, saying tentatively but often that smuggling was no profession for a family man.

"Darling, how can I afford to give it up?" he protested on one occasion. "Look at the things you buy without consulting me? That new curtain material for the nursery, for example."

"You always say you don't mind what I spend," she said, her lip quivering ominously, "so long as I tell you about it. And I'm hardly ever extravagant. It's only for the baby."

He sat on the couch, moving her feet to give himself room. "I don't mind in the least," he said gently. "I'm only pointing out that we have to pay a landlord, a butler, a cook and two maids, not to mention the lad who looks after the horses when I'm away. Working for Hicks makes it possible, but saving for a house of our own is still a slow business."

"It's my fault," she said. "You only keep servants for my sake, and live in this house because I have been used to comfort all my life."

"That's nonsense," he said, squeezing her hand. "And you know it."

"I do so hate you being away so much. Especially now. Tom, you don't really mean it, do you, when you talk of staying with Captain Hicks until you are thirty?"

"We'll see. In another year or two, who knows? I might even go into partnership with Mace Tandy, and build racing yachts."

"No need, Tom. No need for that." She was suddenly agitated, trembling. "We don't have to associate with the Tandys any more. I've heard that Mr. Ward will want recruits for his new steamer."

"Well, I doubt if he's consider a notorious sea-smuggler for a job cosseting the Medina's passengers."

Tom did not inform her that he was crossing to Cowes that very day, for an interview with George Ward and William Fitzhugh. He could guess why the Island King had summoned him to an audience.

He was not mistaken. Meeting at the Fountain Inn for an opulent luncheon, the three men were joined by Captain Knight, who was to command Medina following her launch in June. The interview gave Tom much to think about. He was glad of the three hour sail back to West Mills, with his study gig fighting the floodtide.

William Fitzhugh's words came back to him. "Your career with Captain Hicks has been impressive, Mr. Elderfield, if slightly - shall we say, colourful? We would like to offer you the position of Mate aboard our new vessel."

"To be frank, sir," said George Ward, doleful eyes showing the merest glint of humour, "We have taken into account more than the suitability of your background and character. We feel that this appointment would do much to, er....." He paused, and coughed delicately. "To win the ladies to our cause. To encourage them, in short, to embrace the new age with affection."

Tom could not help grinning, "You forget, Mr. Ward, that I'm a married man."

"On the contrary. The life of a saltern agent is precarious, if you understand me. I hold Mrs. Elderfield in high esteem, and should not like to see her widowed."

"You must be aware that our first child will be born in four months."

"Is a secure profession, with solid prospects for advancement, not worth more than a quick fortune and a premature funeral?"

Tom had answered, smiling. "I very much appreciate your offer, but I haven't yet begun to crave security before variety."

Messrs. Ward and Fitzhugh were obliged to accept his refusal as final. Tom's main worry was how to break the news to Louisa.

The news that awaited him at home that evening drove everything else from his mind. In the hall he was assailed by the youngest of the maidservants.

"Oh, sir, you be home at last." The girl was close to tears. Mrs. Elderfield have been terrible poorly, and none of us knowing where to look for 'ee.

"Poorly? But she seemed all right this morning. Has someone call the doctor?"

"He's been and gone, sir, Mr. Elderfield," the girl added, sniffing. "There were no warning, truly. Madam didn't fall, or nothing like that. She's lost the baby, sir."

When Tom entered the bedroom, Louisa appeared to be He would have tiptoed out again, but his wife opened her eyes and stretched out a hand to him. He sat on the bed and held her hand tight, almost overcome by pity; but his grief was for Louisa's loss, not his own. The baby had not yet become real to him; and because of it he had lost Jess.

"You should have been here," she whispered. "Tom I was so afraid. Where have you been?"

"With Captain Hicks." The lie came easily. "The waggoners on the inland routes are demanding higher wages. Louisa, darling, I'm so sorry."

"I used to think we could be a team," she said. "Like you and Jessica Tandy -"

"Darling, don't."

"But we can't. I'm not brave, or strong. Every day and night I'm frightened for you. And now.....I couldn't even give you a son."

"You're safe, that's what counts. We're young, there'll be other chances."

"What's the use? What's the use any more?" Louisa moaned, turning her head restlessly as if to escape the secret thoughts that tortured her. "I thought this baby would bring you back to me -"

"I'm here, darling. I'm not going away."

But she moaned and wept, clutching his hand, so that he feared she was delirious; until gradually her sobs quietened, and she fell into an exhausted sleep. For Tom, sleep was far away that night. He loved Louisa as he always had, with protective tenderness, and was racked by the knowledge that she no longer believed it. He had convinced himself once that she would happily survive without him; now, he saw his mistake. Perhaps it was fortunate after all, that his folly had not been tested; for he and Jess were strong enough to continue their lives apart.

Tom made up his mind to be more attentive to his wife in future, and let her see how much she meant to him.

This resolution was to call on all his reserves of patience. Louisa recovered physically from the miscarriage, but her mental state began to worry Tom. She read avidly whatever she could find, from Scott's novels to the weekly Hampshire Chronicle. This was nothing new; except that for days at a time she seemed wrapped in dreams, and at night, deprived of fantasy, she would groan and mutter in her sleep. She accepted Tom's many small kindnesses with smiles that gave no clue to her thoughts, and only reproached him if he suggested a ride in the Forest, or a visit to friends. She seemed childlike, and somehow lost; and he had not the heart to make love to her.

After a month of this, Tom paid a surreptitious visit to her physician. The man was concerned, but reassuring. "These fits of melancholy are quite common after a miscarriage, and your wife, sir, is a lady of delicate sensibilities. You must be persistent, and ensure that Mrs. Elderfield has a full social life. Time, I fear, is the only sure healer - but congenial company may be very beneficial. Indeed it may."

Though Tom followed the doctor's advice, and noticed some improvement in Louisa's awareness of reality, he did not take her to see the Veritys' new baby. Instead he rode alone to West Mills, offered his congratulations to the young couple, and insisted that Trekker must not join Marshlight when she sailed next day for Guernsey.

"Your place is here," he told his friend. "God knows, I've taken enough shore leave these past few weeks, when I didn't want to trust Louisa to the servants' care. Now it's your turn."

"Aye, but you can afford to lose a week's money here and there. 'Tis more than I can manage, just now."

"Then take your wages from me, for a change. And I won't hear any arguments. Call it a birthday present for the baby."

Over dinner that night, Tom casually mentioned that Rachel had given birth to a daughter, looking anxiously at his wife to gauge her reaction.

"And Edward sails with you tomorrow," she said wanly. "Poor Rachel will be all alone."

"No, Trekker is staying with her. Won't you try to eat something, darling? The lamb is very tender."

"When will you return?" Louisa asked, pushing aside her full plate.

"Oh....within three days. Tuesday morning, probably."

"Winter Witch sailed into port today. I saw her from the window. I suppose the cargo has been floated somewhere offshore."

It was unlike her, nowadays, to show curiosity about such details, and Tom felt a lift of hope. Was it possible that at last she was beginning to take an interest in his profession again?

"Mr Bezant must be dreadfully annoyed," she said, "now that the ships arrive separately, instead of in convoy. He has to send his tubmen out four times as often."

"I haven't asked his opinion. Actually it doesn't always work quite like that."

Louisa was obviously awaiting enlightenment, so he went on, "Winter Witch has dumped her cargo offshore, right? Fine summer weather, no foreseeable problems. Escapade is due in on Monday afternoon, and Bezant has planned to beach both cargoes at once, on Monday night."

"I see," she said. "Yes, it sounds very sensible."

After dinner, Tom stood at the table poring over the chart, calculating the tides and plotting a course to and from St. Peter Port. To evade the warships and Revenue cutters, he tried to vary the homeward route with each voyage.

Louisa read the Chronicle, taking a pencil to mark a paragraph now and then. She often underlined or cut out reports of local weddings, or the season's new fashions; even though she seldom attended the former, and never nagged Tom to spend money on having the latter sewn for her. She had not forgotten his plea for frugality.

When the Elderfields retired for the night, the newspaper lay abandoned on Louisa's chair. If Tom had glanced that way, he would have seen the page uppermost which dealt with Southampton and Lymington news, and the editorial note which stated that any person giving information leading to the capture of smugglers would receive the customary reward of £20 per man, plus one half of the value of any contraband seized.

He would have seen that his wife had drawn a small asterisk beside the relevant paragraph; and he would perhaps have thought twice about setting sail the next day for St. Peter Port.

Part 2, The Venturer's Agent, Chapter 12

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