Race Before the Wind

Copyright © Jill Salkeld 1988

Part Two: 1816-1822

The Venturer's Agent

Chapter Eight

In the ballroom at Northwood, Louisa Elderfield stood at her husband's side, poised and smiling amid the encompassing din of music and animated chatter. Tom had been cornered by their host, and though Louisa was impatient to dance she forgave them both. Old Mr. Ward was invariably charming, and reminiscent of an underfed spaniel, so that, as always, she had to resist the urge to offer him something from his own buffet.

Inevitably their talk was of steamers; for this was July 14th, 1821, one year to the day since the maiden voyage of Messrs. Ward &Fitzhugh's Prince of Coburg, the first steam packet to run between Cowes and Southampton. This year, a rival company had launched a vessel in competition, and Mr. Ward's anniversary ball was to some extent a publicity exercise.

"Is Thames really a threat?" Tom was asking boldly, totally at ease with the 'Island King'. "There might actually be enough passengers to fill both packets, with the city folk trooping south for the yachting."

"There may." George Ward's deceptively sorrowful eyes gleamed suddenly with humour, and Louisa was permitted a glimpse of the shrewd mind behind the facade of innocuous courtesy. "I'm a local man, however. I prefer to remain one jump ahead of an owners' consortium with members scattered from here to Stamford Hill. What would you think, Mr. Elderfield, of a steamer built here in Cowes - built sturdy enough to make the Channel crossing, and offering summer excursions to Devon or Sussex? Perhaps even a trip around the Wight?"

Tom whistled. "A special service for the summer crowds? It's an intriguing idea. Have you got a builder in mind?"

"Ratsey. It's no secret."

Tom put an arm around his wife, drawing her close to his side. "What do you reckon, darling? Would your friends welcome the chance to see Torquay Regatta?"

He habitually referred to their wide circle of acquaintances as her friends; and in fact there were many whom he barely knew. Louisa would hold dinner parties in his absence, to pass the time, and when he came home she seldom felt the need to socialize.

She said now, with a faint grimace. "We ladies have some doubts, Mr Ward, as to the safety of steam packets. Are your passengers not for ever falling under the paddles, or being blown to heaven by an exploding boiler?"

"My passengers? No, indeed. My dear Mrs Elderfield, you are speaking of the age when steam engines were in their infancy. Our British engineers are the best in the world."

"In that case, she said, tapping her glass against that of the Island magnate, "let us drink to the venture, which certainly cannot fail, Mr. Ward, with yourself and Mr. Fitzhugh at the helm?"

Some minutes later, as Tom guided Louisa on to the dance floor, he murmured, "I think George Ward is a tiny bit in love with you."

"Nonsense," she said, blushing.

"Can't say I blame him."

Hearing the pride in his voice, Louisa thought for the hundredth time that being Tom's wife was worth all the heartache of the empty days when she longed only to see his face, or to know that he was safe in some foreign harbour. Having been married for two year, four months and three days, she was still deeply in love with him - despite the unavoidable nuisance of sharing his bed.

Louisa recalled her horror on their wedding night; not at her husband's tender, conscientious lovemaking, but at his hope that she would participate actively and even enjoy doing so. He was a skilful lover, and certainly a patient one, whose perseverance often achieved results for Louisa; and yet she chose to remain the passive recipient of pleasure, contributing only a resolute willingness to be loved. She felt that the whole earthy, undignified business somehow demeaned their spiritual love for one another; and in secret guilt she wished they might dispense with it entirely, and return to the romantic days of courtship.

After their first six months of marriage, Tom had started to request his marital rights less often, and Louisa put this down to his thoughtfulness. When she had questioned him timidly, concerned not to neglect her duty, he had said, with a crooked smile, that he did not want a dutiful wife; and the girl, taking his words at face value, had been grateful and reassured.

"And see who is down from London! The Earl of Wickham - no, my dear, no relation to the Marquis of Lansdowne, and I'm sure the Marquis is glad of it -"

"Hush, he will hear you - but do look at that extraordinary young man beside him! Did you catch his name? One cannot hear half the announcements with this infernal clamour....But if that attire is an example of London fashions....One cannot credit that anyone would be seen in a green tail-coat and striped scarlet waistcoat. Just like a traveling tinker - and my ear, what is he doing?"

Glancing in curiosity at the party under discussion, Louisa saw that the youth in scarlet and green was fast attracting every eye in the room. It was not just his odd colour sense, nor his being half a head taller that any other man present. He was attempting to balance a small chair on his head, to the delight of his companions, holding one of its clawed feet precariously amid his unruly black curls.

Louisa, though disapproving, was reluctantly amused, and found herself wondering if the young man would be ejected forcibly from the house, and whether she had seen him among the Earl's friends before. Almost certainly not; she would have remembered that narrow, fresh-complexioned face; the widely curving mouth; the long nose which had been broken once or twice and had set awry - quite apart from the gangling height of the rogue.

A battered, clever, mobile face, with nothing handsome about it except the dark eyes which now glinted to and fro, assessing their owner's effect on his gaping public.

Tom gripped Louisa's arm, making her jump. He said in an undertone, sounding unaccountably breathless, "Come and meet somebody."

"Tom, not that absurd young giant! I'm sure he must be drunk. Please don't say that you know him." But looking sideways up at her husband, she grew uneasy, seeing his pallor under the deep tan. "Darling, who is he?"

Tom was already steering her towards the raucous group. The unknown youth, for the moment concentrating on his prank, paid them no heed.

Tom said softly through the din, "So you're still making trouble, then, after all these years."

The chair swayed, toppled, was neatly caught. Setting it down, the youth bounded to grip Tom's hand and punch his arm, saying with awkwardness and forced laughter, "It's good to see you looking so fit, Tom Elderfield - though I swear you've shrunk."

Tom shook his head, making a valiant but too obvious effort to retain a degree of sang froid. "Louisa, darling," he said, "you must have heard me talk of little Mace Tandy."

Now she understood, for the name of Tandy had haunted her since she was fourteen, and in love with a betrothed tubman. She suppressed a perverse, self-destructive urge to ask Mace Tandy what had become of his sister, and said only "I believe that you have been living abroad, Mr. Tandy. Did the life not suit you, after all? We would love to hear of your adventures."

"Abroad?" Mace hunched his wide, bony shoulders, looking as apprehensive as a small child guessing its punishment. "No, we haven't - but Jess had better that is - "
He glanced in confusion at some point behind Tom, and Louisa saw her husband whirl, his face impassive, frighteningly shuttered.

The woman approaching them around the edge of the crowded dance floor paused once, and then advanced boldly, unsurprised, showing only pleasure at the meeting.

"Why, Mr. Elderfield," she said, "how delightful. We knew that you had been invited, of course. I suppose you had no idea that we were moving down from London."

If the words implied a question, Tom was not aware of it, his eyes had not left her face.

~So this is your lovely wife," Jessica said. "Mrs Elderfield, you've won a prize which I'm sure you appreciate. I'd have married him myself," she added, with a guileless and glowing smile, "but Fate was against me. And life moves on, doesn't it? We are none of us the children that we were five years ago - my little brother especially. Don't you agree, Mr. Elderfield? Did you ever see a scrawny little sprat grow so tall in so short a time?"

"No, Miss Tandy," he murmured, "I never did."

"Yes, I am still Miss Tandy." Again that brilliant smile. "I haven't been so lucky as you, Mrs Elderfield. I am destined to die an old maid."

Louisa could think of nothing less likely. It seemed to the girl that Jessica Tandy, with her cropped curls and bright vivacity, was far more beautiful than Louisa's mother had ever been.

The conversation drifted to more general matters, as the Earl of Wickham and several others joined them. The Earl was clearly entranced by Jessica, appearing as interested as Tom to learn that the Tandys were living in a rented house in Keyhaven. Tom was still behaving with formal courtesy, taking his cue from Jessica; but Louisa began to feel desperate, knowing that Keyhaven was less than a mile from West Mills. Edward Verity and his bride now rented the cottage, since Tom had moved to Lymington, and they would undoubtedly give Edward's skipper an alibi if he needed one. Oh God, what could she do? How could she hope to compete with Jessica Tandy?

As if sensing her despair, Tom suddenly turned to her. Astonishing that blue eyes could burn with such scorching intensity!

"Darling, you're my wife," he whispered. "You. Not Jess. But I must know....will you help me? Will you do as Mace says?"

"Yes, she said, not understanding what he meant, and yet feeling some of the burden lifted, because he was strong and had never let her down.

Tom murmured something to Mace Tandy, who at once bowed to Louisa. "Mrs. Elderfield, can I please claim this dance, if I absolutely swear not to trample on your feet?"

And she allowed him to lead her on to the floor, her tall figure dwarfed by his.

The Earl of Wickham, laconic and distinguished, drawled, "You appear to have forgotten, my dear Miss Tandy, that you promised this dance to me."

"The stars are out, Miss Tandy," said Tom.

"So they are - and this room is so hot. Do please excuse us, Lord Wickham."

She walked ahead of Tom, out to the cool terrace and down on to a lawn lit by clusters of tall candles and lanterns set amid the shrubs.

"Jessie...."

She waited for him. "So I'm Jessie again, am I? And you a married man, Tom Elderfield."

"I rode from one end of Hampshire to the other, bribing every ostler and farm boy for news of you." His smile was bitter. "Well, almost. You broke my heart, you know."

"But it mended." She touched the lace at his wrist, her expression desolate and mocking. "And such prosperity...."

"Can't you tell me what happened, Jess? Even now?"

For answer she took his arm, and together they strolled across the candlelit lawns. She told him the story, then; how three skippers from the old Mudeford gang had been brought to trial twenty-five years ago; how they had served a few years' hard labour and then, like many ex-convicts, been impressed into the Navy and Army. This much Sacheverell Tandy had made it his business to find out; for when he had fled to Hatchley as a young man, his fortunes had included his colleagues' share of the loot.

With the disbandment of Wellington's troops after Waterloo, the three men had come home to Mudeford and had used the county's vast underworld network of tubmen, waggoners and game-higglers to trace the Tandys at last to Hatchley.

The hirelings seen by Ned Farminer had lurked about the village for days, presumably awaiting orders from Mudeford. Then the letter had arrived: unsigned, forthright, stating that until the gold had been returned, and Tandy lay in his grave, not once of his children would be safe. He was given one week to raise or unearth the money; and Jessica unsuspecting, her whereabouts noted, would be the first to suffer for any delay.

Mace had written to bring her home, and in the small hours the Tandys had left Hatchley village, the gold having been placed conspicuously for any burglar to find, in the hope that the hunters would take it and abandon the chase. Jessica's friendship with the gypsies proved useful; the Tandys sought refuge with the Wells family, one of the few to possess a caravan as well as a tent, and travelled some distance with them, to settle at last in Deptford. Here Obadiah took unskilled work in a shipyard, while Mace became an apprenticed shipwright.

"Why did you write that you were leaving the country?" Tom asked her. "And that you'd left me from choice? You couldn't - Jess, you couldn't have thought me capable of betraying you out of spite?"

She stopped walking, and gave his arm a little shake, her eyes meeting his with helpless pain. "As though I could ever think that! Oh Tom, if you had guessed that I was still in England, still wanting you, still ready to believe you loved me, wouldn't you have moved heaven and earth to find me?"

"You know I would," he whispered.

"But you didn't suspect, any more than I had, that the Vaillants' house was watched. You would have traced the gypsies first, they were the obvious refuge - and the link that our enemies wouldn't find without your unwitting help. You would have killed us, Tom and probably yourself too."

"The seal was broken," he said, remembering. "On your letter."

"I'd hoped they would read it. That was another reason for writing what I did."

They walked on, no longer touching. After a time she said, "My father died two weeks ago. A sudden seizure - I think the constant uncertainty, of not knowing where death might lie in wait for any one of us, had weakened his heart."

He gave no insincere condolences. Jess was free again, his Jess, the one woman to whom he would have offered his independence, not as a sacrifice, but gladly as a gift, for she was his equal, his match in courage and passion, and they would have drawn strength from their dependence on one another.

She was free again, and it was too late.

"Mace is a qualified shipwright now, she said. "That's why he came south. We've been living in the West End of London for some months, moving in high society. The Earl of Wickham has offered to use his influence, to get Macey into one of the yards building for the Royal Yacht Club."

The Regent had bestowed his title on the Cowes Yacht Club the previous year, when he was crowned King George IV. Tom frowned.

"I'd sooner pull some strings for Mace myself," he said grimly. "Lord Wickham charges his debtors high interest, from what I've heard."

"Whatever do you mean? He has shown us nothing but kindness."

"Mm. Watch him, though, Jess. And how did Mace serve his apprenticeship in only five years?"

"Oh, in typical fashion. Quite unplanned. He started an affair with his employer's daughter, who was also jumping in and out of bed with her rich fiance. The girl is now pregnant by one of them or the other. Mace was willing enough to forget her and move to West London with Pa and me, in return for having two years knocked off his apprenticeship and the deeds falsified."

"You're joking. I'll give him full marks for cheek, if nothing else. Can he get away with it?"

"Of course. He's worked so hard to learn the shipwright's craft, Tom, and he's a clever designer too."

"What about Obadiah? Is he here?"

"No, just Mace, and Amos's children -"

"Amos...." He had halted abruptly, and was staring at her.

Jessica sighed. "About four months after Amos died, a girl from Andover came to see Pa. Pretty, Mace says, with red hair and blue eyes. Jane somebody. Maybe you'd met her."

"Don't think so. And she was carrying Amos' child?"

"Worse. The babies were two weeks old - twins, a boy and girl. Jet black hair, very curly.....Pa couldn't deny they looked like Tandys. The girl said they'd end in the workhouse if he couldn't give them a home, so of course he did, and sent the girl away with a full purse. He might not have kept them long, but then I came home. I made him take the babies with us to London. I suppose I've become their foster-mother, and they adore Mace - and I couldn't exactly have sent them to Obadiah in Deptford. Oh Tom...." She was standing before him, gloved hands on his shoulders, her eyes brilliant in the candlelight."We've been in Keyhaven s week. I haven't been idle. I've spoken with Trekker Verity. He thinks you're unhappy - that you need something more from marriage than Louisa can give you."

"No," he said roughly. "He had no right to say such a thing. I haven't complained, nor had cause either."

Jessica smiled a little. "You're such an accomplished liar," she said. "You learned it young. Why is it that you cannot lie convincingly to me?"

Tom drew a shaky breath, turning away from her. He had not bargained on how deeply the sight of her in that ballroom would affect him; nor on what he might feel when she gazed up at him with those great dark eyes, and asked if his wife made him unhappy.

"Tom," she said, "I came back to find out what had become of you. I didn't know you would be married. Please believe me. I don't want to hurt you, or spoil whatever you have with your wife. But if.... if it's not like that...."

He shook his head. He could not bear to look at her. "You'd best make your own life, Jessie," he said painfully. "I've made mine without you."

"If I can't marry you. I'm not looking for a husband. I won't share you with her, Tom, I couldn't do that - but if you leave her -"

"Jessie, don't," he groaned; and she came to him, reaching up to turn his face towards her.

"There's been no one else," she said. "No other lovers. Come back to me, Tom Elderfield, and I'll show you a marriage without the need for vows in church."

"No, Jess!" He held her away from him. "I'm already married. I'm not claiming it's perfect - sea-smugglers aren't reckoned to be model husbands, are they? But I love Louisa - that's the truth. You and I belong to the past. We can't go back. I don't want to try."

She stood looking up at him, the girl to whom he could not tell a convincing lie. The girl he had tried so hard to forget, and would love for always.

At last she smiled, and linked her arm again through his.

"Come, then, Mr. Elderfield," she said, "we'll show your wife she has nothing to fear. We'll silence the gossips. Don't you remember? Together we're a match for the best and the worst of them."

"So we are," he said, struggling to imitate her cheerful tone, proud of her as never before.

And she would never know, he thought, what it was costing him to turn her away.

Part 2, The Venturer's Agent, Chapter 9

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