I, Coriander (24 page)

31

Homecoming

S
o the wheel had come full circle and I found myself back in my father’s study. Mysteriously, the furniture had been restored to its rightful place. The stuffed alligator was once again king of the ebony cabinet and my mother’s chest was placed under the latticed window. How strange to see it so! I wondered if Rosmore’s death had had anything to do with this transformation.

I looked around the room, feeling as if I stood outside time, uncertain as to whether the hands on the clock had gone backwards or forwards. A fire was burning, and I thought the year must still be young if there was need of kindling and coal.

I heard footsteps outside the study door and quickly hid beside the ebony cabinet, wondering who would turn the handle. To my utter amazement, there was my father. He was dressed for the day’s business and carrying a pile of letters, one of which he was reading. He looked older than I remembered, his hair grey and his face weather-worn.

‘Father!’ I whispered and he spun round, as shocked to see me as I was to see him. His papers shot from his hands and went flying up into the air. We stood like strangers, staring at one another. I heard the clock in the hall strike the hour and in that moment I knew I had rejoined this world.

He said softly, as one might to a ghost, ‘Coriander?’ Puzzled, he looked at me as if still unsure whether he could trust what he was seeing. ‘Am I dreaming or is it truly you, dressed so strangely?’

‘It is truly I,’ I replied. ‘I have come back.’

Carefully, with measured steps, he came towards me and wrapped me in his arms. Only at this proof that I was flesh and blood did he to start to weep.

‘I thought I had lost you,’ he cried, ‘I thought I had lost you.’

There was a knock on the study door. My father turned quickly, fumbling for a handkerchief, and blew his nose.

‘Who is it?’

‘Danes, sir.’

My father went to the door. Shielding me with his body, he opened it just wide enough to let her in and then quickly closed it.

‘What is going on, sir? Are you all right? Why, what happened to your letters?’

He moved away and pointed to where I was standing.

‘Oh, my goodness!’ cried Danes, rushing towards me. ‘Did I not tell you, sir, that she would come back to us? Oh, my little sparrow, I knew you would not fly away for good. But why are you still dressed as a boy?’

‘There is no time to explain. We must get her out of those clothes,’ said my father urgently.

It was too late. There came another knock on the door.

My father rushed to stop whoever it was from entering, but it was no good. There stood Mistress Bedwell with a small girl who was holding a basket.

‘I came to say goodbye,’ said Mistress Bedwell.

‘Patience,’ said my father, trying to stop her from coming any further into the room. ‘You saw the baby?’

‘That I did and such a healthy little fellow. He looks so like his -’ She stopped, seeing the papers scattered on the floor. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked with concern. ‘You look a little red around the eyes. Not bad news, I hope.’

‘No, no, everything is fine, thank you. Let me see you to the garden gate.’

‘Who is that boy? Why is he hiding?’ said the child, pointing at me.

Mistress Bedwell looked over at me and her mouth fell open with surprise.

‘You remember Coriander,’ said my father.

‘I certainly do,’ she said, perplexed. ‘It is wonderful to see you.’ She stopped, taking in my appearance. ‘But why, pray, are you dressed so?’

My father cut in quickly, ‘Coriander has just returned from the country. It was thought safer for her to dress this way for her journey on account of the dangers on the road.’

‘Oh, dear Lord, yes,’ said Danes. ‘Why, I have heard the most terrible stories of vagabonds and highwaymen and worse. One cannot be too careful in these desperate and lawless times.’

‘That of course is true. And what news of your cousin?’ asked Mistress Bedwell.

I tried to look as if I knew what she was talking about.

‘A miraculous recovery!’ said Danes.

‘Yes,’ replied my father, ‘by the grace of the Good Lord, he rose up from his deathbed to live another day.’

Mistress Bedwell looked even more perplexed as my father and Danes made up a story between them that was as long as it was round in the telling. It was like watching two fish floundering on the shore, trying to make a river from a puddle.

Patience Bedwell’s eyes were as wide as saucers.

‘What a tale! You quite take my breath away,’ she said. ‘At all events, Coriander, it is lovely to see you. Dear Edmund often asks after you. He will be delighted at the news of your return. Tell me,’ she continued, ‘what do you think of the baby?’

Again I was at a loss as to what to say. For the life of me I could not think whose baby she was talking about. ‘Enchanting, ’ I said, hoping that was the right reply. Babies were usually thought to be so.

‘Now, Master Hobie, you must bring Coriander to dine with us, though not, perhaps,’ she laughed, ‘in those clothes. Shall we say Wednesday? There is so much to catch up on. Edmund will be impatient to meet you and hear all about your travels.’

‘By all means, with pleasure,’ said my father.

‘Come, Sarah,’ said Mistress Bedwell to the child who still stood there, her mouth wide open, staring at me.

‘Where did you get those silver shoes?’ she asked.

I said they were made specially for me.

‘Come,’ said Danes impatiently, ‘let me show you out,’ and with all speed she hurried the two of them from the room.

My father closed the door firmly behind them and leaning against it said, ‘I think she believed us!’

And we both burst out laughing.

‘The baby,’ I said. ‘Father, tell me who has had a baby.’

‘First,’ said my father, ‘you tell me how you came by your silver shoes.’

32

The Sweetest Little Fingers

I
opened the door to Hester’s room and was greeted by such a lovely sight. Hester, looking beautiful, with red rosy cheeks, was sitting in a low chair. The baby, his tiny hand lying flat against her breast, sucked merrily away, making slurping noises like a bird.

Hester took her eyes lazily off the baby and said, ‘Oh, sweet Coriander, I knew you would come back. I told your father so many times that you would.’

‘Hester, look at you! Motherhood much becomes you,’ I said.

Hester smiled. ‘I am as round and as plump as a loaf of bread. I am no longer skin and bone.’

The baby stopped feeding and carefully, as if he were a flower, she handed him to me to hold.

‘What is his name?’ I asked.

‘Joseph Appleby. We named him after my father.’

What a wonder a baby is. Such newness just waiting to unfold. Little Joseph’s tiny hand was perfect in every way, his face full of dreams. He smelt of milk as he nestled into me and then, finding his fist, he sucked greedily on his fingers until he fell asleep in my arms.

‘Why, look at you dressed so!’ said Hester. ‘You have on the same clothes you wore that fearful night when Tarbett Purman was killed.’

‘I know. Although I have only been gone such a short time, so much has happened.’

‘Coriander, are you dreaming? You have been gone more than a year and a half.’

‘A year! It cannot be so. What then is the date?’

‘I can tell you exactly, for I have counted every day since you left. This is the second day of April, and the year is 1660.’

‘Tell me,’ I said, ‘how is it you are safely home?’

‘Why,’ said Hester, ‘friends of the King made sure that all the charges were dropped against Gabriel. Your father saw to it.’

‘Wait,’ I said, ‘wait! Not so fast. The King?’

‘Yes, King Charles II. Has your father not told you that he has been all this time with the King in exile? He put his only remaining ship at the service of His Majesty. You should hear Sam talk of the adventures they have had.’

‘Hester, you are not making any sense. What, Oliver Cromwell now takes counsel from the King? I doubt it much!’

‘No, bless you! Old Noll is dead.’

‘Dead?’ I said.

‘That is why we are home again. Now, tell me what has been happening to you,’ said Hester.

‘No,’ I said. ‘That can wait. I want to understand how you came to meet up with my father.’

‘Well, it was like this. When we landed at La Rochelle, we were at a loss as to what to do. We were in immediate need of work and coin but we did not know whom we could trust. There were many English refugees in the town and all sorts of alarming rumours which in the event amounted to nothing at all. Just as our money was running out, whom did we spy?’ She stopped and looked at the baby and touched his hands. ‘Are they not the sweetest little fingers you ever did see, so small and delicate?’

‘Yes, yes, Hester. They are the most beautiful fingers a baby could have. Now tell me for the love of the Lord, whom did you spy?’

‘Why, Sam, your father’s apprentice.’

‘What was he doing there?’ I asked.

‘That was the luck of it. Your father’s ship was in port and he had come to meet it. He told us that your father was fair desperate for news of you.’ Again Hester stopped and said, ‘Is not the baby the spitting image of Gabriel?’

‘Hester, please,’ I begged, ‘tell me what happened without all the stopping and starting, for you are making me giddy in the telling.’

‘Forgive me,’ said Hester. ‘I do not know what it is about having a baby, but I can hardly put my mind to think on anything else.’

‘For my sake, try,’ I pleaded.

‘I told your father all about my mother and Arise Fell. I left out nothing. I said how you had come to be locked in the chest and how, against all the wonders of the world, you came out again, though you had been gone for all of three summers. Then Gabriel told him about the night when Tarbett Purman died and how he had come to be accused of murder.

‘Well, when your father set sail again he took us with him. When it was safe to return to England, he insisted that we both live in Thames Street. I showed him the papers you had gone to the trouble of writing for me. He took Gabriel into his employment and I asked if he would let me work for him too. Do you know what he said?’

I shook my head.

‘He said that no daughter of his would ever work as a maid. He would not hear of it. Can you believe that? After all I had told him, he called me his daughter! He said that he would never think of me in any other light.’

And she started to cry.

‘Oh Hester, dry your eyes. You will make the baby cry.’

‘Do you think it was wrong of him?’

‘I would have expected no less. You are my sister, dear Hester, no matter what.’

‘How could anyone harm a baby?’ said Hester.

‘I do not know,’ I said, looking at Joseph’s mop of dark hair.

‘My mother did.’

‘Hester, you are not she.’

‘I know, but it saddens me to think of it. I cannot for the life of me understand it. Are you tired? You can put him in the cradle if you wish, Coriander.’

‘No, I like having him in my arms.’

She laughed. ‘So do I. I like him to sleep close to me. Danes say it is better than leaving him alone in a cradle to get too cold or too hot. Mistress Bedwell does not agree. She says that I should have a wet nurse and not hold him all the time, for it indulges him so.’

I laughed. ‘What nonsense!’

Hester looked pleased. ‘It feels right, him being next to me.’

‘Hester, do what you feel is best. Take no notice of Patience Bedwell.’

I could hear the sound of boots on the stairs.

‘Coriander!’ said Gabriel, coming into the room. He looked as proud as ever I saw him and quite the man. ‘It is so good to see you. I could hardly believe the news when Danes told me that you had returned.’

I got up and he took little Joseph from me.

‘Have I not a fine son?’ he said, going to sit beside his wife.

‘I have been trying to find out from Hester how long it is since you have been back,’ I said.

‘Just four months, since this January. We heard that the country had no more appetite for being a republic and the talk was all of the King’s return. Your father was full of grief not to find you here when we finally came home.’

‘I kept telling him that you would be all right,’ said Hester, ‘that you had come back before and you would again.’

‘It has been awkward, though,’ said Gabriel, ‘for neighbours and friends seemed to have more questions in them than we could find answers for.’

‘You should see Bridge Street,’ said Hester, changing the subject. ‘Should she not, Gabriel? It has all been repainted, flags are being put up and nearly every shop has
By Appointment to the King
hanging from its sign. It looks so pretty, Coriander.’

Gabriel put his arm round Hester. ‘That it does,’ he said, and he looked on his little family with pride.

I left them and went back downstairs to find my father waiting for me in the hall below.

‘I still cannot believe you have come home,’ he said.

33

To the King his Own

T
hat evening, after I had bathed and dressed in clean clothes, I sat with my father in his study, enjoying the heat from the fire. We were, I thought, like two travellers returned from faraway places to tell of our different journeys, only to find that our maps had overlapped.

‘Do you forgive me?’ he asked.

‘For what?’

‘For leaving you with Maud and that preacher.’

‘You were not to know what they would do.’

‘No,’ he said, getting up to poke the fire and sending sparks like dragons’ breath up the chimney. ‘But I should not have been so wrapped up in my own grief. I should have taken better care of you and of our future.’

‘You did your best.’

‘In truth I was tortured by the thought of your mother’s shadow. I kept the casket in here for safety’s sake...’

‘I know. I saw it. One evening when I could not sleep, I came down the stairs into the study to find you at your desk with the casket. The lid was open and you asked me if you should have given it back to her.’