Across the Sands of Time (18 page)

John's deep-grey eyes narrowed. He felt he could be treading troubled waters here. How much did the lady of Fernlea really know of the illicit trading that went on in the dark of the moon? Was she involved herself? He wouldn't have been at all surprised.

Jessica Platt cleared her throat.

‘You mentioned another matter. Am I to know what it was about?'

‘Yes, ma'am. I wish to speak of your niece. Polly and I have a – a fondness for each other. I wanted to ask for her hand, but unhappily the move was thwarted.'

‘Well put, man. So what now?'

‘I think you may know of Polly's whereabouts.'

‘I?' The strong black brows rose archly. ‘Fie, sir. What gives you that idea?'

‘I know how Polly confided in you. Her removal was too swift to have been done under normal circumstances. Someone who could pull strings had to have had a hand in it. Begging your pardon, ma'am, but that someone could only be yourself.'

In his need, John unwittingly twisted his cap in his salt-roughened hands.

‘I love Polly and want her for my wife. Please, ma'am. Could you let me have her current address.'

For a few trying seconds Jessica hesitated. Then she gave a little shrug and turned back to her desk. Taking up a sheet of writing vellum, she dipped the quill into the inkwell and wrote what he requested, sanding it lightly to dry the ink.

‘There you are, young man. You will find Polly at this house. I must add that she is settled in her new life and not unhappy. Giving it all up will not be undertaken lightly. But then mayhap true love will prevail.'

Her tone was wry and slightly mocking. Taking the sheet of paper, John folded it neatly and stowed it away in his trouser pocket.

‘My thanks, ma'am. I assure you that in this case, it will.'

She smiled at that, her fine dark eyes twinkling.

‘I believe you, John Royle. May God go with you. Mind you give Polly my deepest regards when you see her.'

Next instant she had summoned the maid and John was being shown out.

He put a fair distance between himself and the house before glancing at what she had given him.

Polly Dakin, c/o Jerome Kendrick Esquire, 3, Stanley Place, Chester.

The elegant copperplate danced before his gaze. So that's where Polly had vanished to! She had gone into service with one of the Chester gentry and would be working all hours as a kitchen maid, or perhaps a nursemaid if she were lucky. At least he could now go and seek her out.

All thought of the running tide and the catch that awaited fled. First he would go home and spruce himself up, then he would hire a horse from the livery yard and be on his way.

Within the hour he was doing just that, trotting the hired hack smartly down the village street. Passing the Harbour House, he ranged the yard for any signs of upheaval. All seemed undisturbed. Mollified, since he had a certain affection for the old rogue of an innkeeper, John applied his heels to the horse's sides and pressed on.

He was approaching the Chester Road when a fellow rider came cantering towards him, pulling up sharply in a cloud of dust from the unmade country lane.

‘Ho, there, John! Where are you bound in such a hurry?'

The rider was Edward Dakin.

John and Edward had been boyhood pals. As youths their way had parted somewhat. John had had a living to make and the hardship of battling with tide and weather had swiftly made a man of him, whilst Edward, the only son of a thriving establishment and never short of a coin or two in his pocket, had enjoyed the sort of freedom most young men could only dream of.

Until Susanna Marsdon had come along. Edward's enchantment with the parson's pretty daughter had pulled him up short and the drinking and carousing had stopped. Now Edward, by all accounts, was joining the rigid ranks of the legal profession.

John reined in his horse.

‘Edward – good day to you. Your horse is in a lather. Is all well?'

‘Aye, but there's been a spot of bother at the tavern. I had to ride into Neston to check out some details at the firm of solicitors I'm with. All sorted now, fortunately.'

‘I'm glad. Would it have been to do with a certain visit from the authorities? I chanced on them earlier.'

‘Did you, indeed? Well, it stands to reason you won't be blind to what goes on there. Nobody is. Father's got away with it this time. By the skin of his teeth, I might add.' Edward lowered his voice. ‘The cellar had been cleared of certain goods only last night, happily for all concerned. Father must watch his tongue, though. That's how there came to be an inspection.'

‘I did try to warn him.'

‘Did you? You're a good man, John. Polly missed her chance with you.'

‘Not entirely.' John's eyes glimmered. ‘I've just come from Fernlea.'

‘What – you bearded the lioness in her den?' Edward gave a shout of laughter. ‘Brave man! Jessica's a woman one doesn't care to cross. Though she's not a bad sort once you get to know her. What happened?'

‘I wanted to know where Polly was biding.'

‘And?'

John patted his top pocket, where the sheet of paper giving Polly's abode rested.

‘I'm on my way to see her.'

Edward looked impressed.

‘Well, I'd best not hold you up any longer. Just one more thing.…' His face sobered. ‘Mama is failing fast. When you see Polly, you might tell her not to linger.'

‘I'm sorry, Edward.'

‘Yes, well, Mama never was strong.' Edward gathered up his reins. ‘Best of luck, John! Give Polly my fondest love and tell her I hope to see her soon.'

A farewell salute, and they went their separate ways. John's heart sang as he spurred his horse along the open highway to Chester. Not long now and he would see his Polly again.

He was not to know that Polly was trudging homewards, weary and footsore, having left the main route with its many hazards for the unwary traveller, and was taking instead the quieter sandy lanes that wove across country towards Parkgate.

 

‘Oh, no! You'll miss each other! You must turn back!'

Thea jerked awake, her cry strangled in her throat, the rattle of iron-shod hooves on the gritty road becoming the strident buzzing of a telephone at her elbow. Fogged with sleep, it took a moment or two to realize where she was. The phone rang on. Thea reached out to answer it.

‘Miss Partington?' The broad Irish brogue of the hotel night attendant was harsh in her ear. ‘Sure then, if there isn't a Mr Shane here, asking to see you. Hold on a minute, please. I'll put him on the line.'

It was pitch dark. Pushing her heavy weight of hair back from her face, Thea struggled up in the bed and switched on the bedside lamp. The room sprang into brightness. Squinting, she saw with a groan that her small travel clock indicated five-twenty in the morning. Next instant, Dominic's voice came over the line.

‘Thea, are you there?'

‘What? Yes, of course but … Dominic, what's going on? Have you any idea what time it is?'

‘Getting on for six, I should imagine. Thea, I need to speak with you and I don't have much time to spare. The hotel is rustling up coffee and something to eat. Could you come down? I'll be in the foyer.'

‘Oh but … oh, very well. How did you find me?'

‘You left a message at the airport, remember? I came straight over here. Thea, this is urgent. I need to get back but I must see you first.'

‘Give me five minutes to get dressed and I'll be there.'

She rang off, feeling horribly disoriented and uncharacteristically out of sorts. She never had been one for dramatics and Dominic, with his impulsive ways and apparent knack for landing himself in the thick of trouble, really was pushing his luck this time.

But he had made an effort to see her, a small inner voice reminded. And emergencies could crop up in any place and at any time. The least she could do was go and hear him out.

Leaving the still-tempting comfort of the bed, she splashed her face with cold water to wake herself up, scrambled into some clothes and left the room.

Dominic was seated in a secluded corner of the hotel foyer, a tray of steaming coffee and hot toast on the table beside him. He rose as she appeared and went to greet her, taking her hands. His face was unshaven, his hair tousled, his eyes troubled and shadowed, and some of Thea's exasperation dispersed.

‘So there you are.' He gave her an eager smile. ‘Thea, I'm sorry about yesterday. Something cropped up and—Come and have breakfast and I'll explain.'

Without a word she sat down and let him pour the coffee. Dominic helped himself to toast, spreading butter and marmalade, eating hungrily, whilst she sipped the hot, reviving beverage and felt its warmth spreading through her veins.

‘It's Murty,' Dominic began. ‘Murty Miles the jockey? I was on my way to meet you yesterday as usual when I had a call from the
hospice. He'd taken a turn for the worse and wanted to see me. What else could I do but double back?'

‘You never thought to put a word through to the airport? Text me? Ring as soon as you had the chance?' All Thea's indignation rose once more. ‘I was worried sick. I thought you'd had an accident or something.'

‘Thea, I can't apologize enough. I did try and get in touch but you know me. By the time I'd reached the hospice the wretched phone needed charging, and then it was all systems go and I didn't get the chance again to ring. I've been with Murty most of the night.'

‘Is he…?'

‘I'm afraid so. He passed away peacefully just after three this morning.'

‘Oh, I'm sorry.'

‘He just slipped away, Thea. I promised him I'd make the necessary arrangements. He's no folks of his own so what else could I do?
Had
no folks of his own, I should say.'

Dominic pushed the plate of toast away as if it suddenly tasted of cardboard, burying his face in his hands.

‘What a dreadful end for a rider like Murty! I keep seeing him at the track, going all out for the winning post, the crowd roaring fit to burst your eardrums and the horse doing its utmost for him. Murty was like that. He could get the best out of the most difficult ride of the bunch.'

With mute sympathy, Thea pushed his coffee closer. Rubbing his face wearily with his hands, Dominic sent her a brief smile and picked up the cup.

‘I suppose,' Thea said slowly, ‘you'll need to get back and deal with the official side of things. Do you want me to come with you?'

‘No, thanks all the same. I'll manage, It wouldn't be fair to drag you round with me.' He sighed. ‘Not the sort of weekend we had planned, is it? I feel bad at having to desert you like this but, being as you're here, why don't you join your brother and the band? They were going on to the Midlands, weren't they? Roscommon, if I remember rightly. You'd love it there.'

‘I'm sure, but is it worth the hassle? I'd need to hire a car and I'd
have to be back in Dublin tomorrow for the seven o'clock flight to Liverpool.' Thea shrugged dismissively. ‘It's not really on. And another thing. Mum isn't very well. So perhaps it's best to shelve things for now.'

‘Mae's poorly?' Dominic was all concern. ‘What's wrong? Is it serious?'

‘I hope not. Mum's been prone to migraines in the past and this one struck just at her busiest time. I don't suppose my sister has any idea about it – Bryony's pretty useless at coping anyway. That leaves just Dad at home to look after everything.'

‘Ponies and all?'

‘Ponies and all! Initially I was tempted to put this weekend off. I only carried on with the arrangements at Mum's insistence – and because you'd mentioned having some positive news about the case with the Jockey Club.'

This provoked a grin, a rueful one.

‘Went right out of my head, so it did! It seems the solicitor I'm using believes it should be a cut and dried case. It's more a matter of putting the record straight, ending with an automatic granting of a pardon on my part, rather than a full scale legal procedure. Good news, isn't it'

‘Excellent! Did he say how long it would take?'

‘He thought weeks rather than months. Meantime I'm free to get back to England and carry on as before. Well, there's nothing to keep me here now Murty's gone. The old rogue! One heck of a load of trouble he made, and all I can do is anguish over his passing!'

Dominic looked suddenly bleak again and impulsively Thea reached out and took his hand.

‘It's maybe for the best. Look at it this way. He'll likely be up there riding his winners!'

‘I don't doubt it for one moment.' Dominic drew in a long breath and let it out again in a gush. ‘So, what would you like to do? Get an early flight home? I could take you to the airport.'

‘It might be best,' Thea said.

During the flight back, Thea did a great deal of thinking. Exhausted and upset though he was, there was no doubting Dominic's feelings for her.