Mr Cavell's Diamond (16 page)

Henry

Jemima’s lying-in period was now over, and the day Henry had set for bringing her back to Worthing had arrived. At last, he thought, they could be a family, living all together under one roof. Although he had tried to spend as much time in Chichester as possible, his business was all in Worthing and London and he’d had to flit frequently back and forth. He’d come to know every coachman who worked the Worthing to Chichester route, and even knew several of the horses’ names. As he travelled the well-known roads on what should be the last time, he reflected on the events of the last couple of weeks.

They had christened the child Henry
the previous week in Chichester. After the christening and a celebration in a Chichester hostelry, Jemima had returned to her bed, feeling the strain of sleepless nights with a new baby.

‘
I’ll find a wet-nurse,’ Henry had told her. ‘I’ll make enquiries in Worthing and there’ll be one waiting to take over from you as soon as you come home.’

Jemima looked horrified.
‘Mr Henry, no! Sorry sir but I don’t want a wet-nurse to suckle the baby. I’m his mama so that is
my
job. Please don’t bring anyone in to do that, please, I should hate to see it.’

‘
I’m sorry, my love,’ he said. ‘I had no idea you would feel so strongly about it. Very well, there’ll be no wet-nurse, I promise. But instead I shall hire another general servant who can help Maria, and leave you free to care for our son.’ He held up a hand to silence any protests. ‘No arguments, my darling. I’ll not have you wearing yourself out being both a mother and a housekeeper. You are to be the lady of the house now.’

Jemima had smiled weakly and nodded, and they had not discussed the household set-up again.

When he arrived at Chichester Henry leapt down from the coach almost before it stopped, and walked briskly up the road to his house in the Precinct. He rapped on the front door to announce his arrival and then walked straight in.

‘
Jemima! I’m here. Where’s my lovely little boy and his beautiful mother? Jemima!’ He looked in the drawing room and finding it empty, strode up the stairs two at a time to Jemima’s bedroom.

It was empty. The bed was neatly made, the room clean and tidy.

‘Jemima?’ Henry peered into the other rooms on that floor. All were immaculate and empty. He raced down the stairs and into the kitchen. Clean and tidy.

She was gone. No Jemima, no baby, no Mrs
Brown, none of their possessions left anywhere in the house.

He went into the drawing room and sat down heavily on the sofa. Where could she be? Why would she have left without telling him? Was there some sort of a mix-up? Perhaps she’d thought she was to travel to
Worthing to meet him. But he’d been clear about the arrangements – he would come to Chichester and help pack up the house, and the three of them plus Mrs Brown would travel back to Worthing together.

Well. She wasn’t here. Maybe she’d left a note? Henry jumped to his feet and toured the little house again, checking everywhere a note could have been left. There was nothing.

Had something happened to her? Had someone taken her, and the baby? And all their belongings? It didn’t seem likely. He paced the hallway. Someone must know what had happened. He burst out through the front door to the street and knocked on a neighbour’s door. It was answered by a wide-eyed serving girl. No sir, she had not seen the lady leave with her baby. She had only ever seen the older lady going to and from the shops but had never spoken to her.

He ran to the neighbour on the other side. There was no answer. Sir
, that house is empty, said the girl from the first house. He crossed the street and banged on another door. A sour-faced housekeeper answered, looking cross at being disturbed. Yes, of course she had seen the people in the house opposite. Hadn’t she been the one to send for the midwife when the baby arrived? Hadn’t she sent over her own kitchen-maid to help out at the birth? And could she assume the gentleman was the baby’s father? Who did he think he was, ruining that poor girl’s fortune by getting her pregnant then just leaving her to fend for herself in a strange town? For all his fine words, she was sure he’d soon tire of the poor girl. And then who would have her? Oh yes, she’d heard the whole sorry story from Mrs Brown, with whom she’d shared many a pot of tea over the last fortnight.

Henry blinked at the tirade.
Had she seen them leave, he asked. Oh no, she’d not seen a thing and even if she had, did he think she would tell him? If that girl has run away to her mother’s to try to make the best of things then good luck to her. She wouldn’t spoil her chances by telling the good-for-nothing scoundrel who’d got her into trouble where she’d gone.

The door was slammed in his face. Henry stood stunned for a moment. Is that what Mrs
Brown thought of him? Had she tainted Jemima’s view of him somehow? He’d been certain Jemima loved him as much as he loved her, but perhaps having the baby had changed things for her. Well, he now had a pretty good idea of where she’d gone at least.

He locked up the
Chichester house and made a mental note to sell it as soon as he could. There was no coach due until the next day, but a carrier made the run each afternoon and could probably be persuaded to take a passenger.

By the time he arrived back in Worthing it was dark, and a cold wind was blowing, bringing with it rain from the west. Henry shivered as he hurried from South Street along the esplanade, head bent down against the oncoming wind. The tide was in and the wind was whipping up huge waves which broke just yards away. At Prospect Row he turned away from the sea and began to walk up the street of small, neat houses.

Half way up the road he stopped. Which number did Jemima’s family live at? He could not remember.
He had the address written down in a notebook in his writing-desk. Something else came to mind. Something which might prove to Jemima and her family how much he cared for her, and how serious he was about wanting to build a life with her. He turned around and hurried back to the esplanade, round the corner and along to his own house. It would only take a minute.

Jemima

Since the baby was born my Ma has been scolding me a dish of tongues about Mr Henry. She is afeared that he won’t want me after a few months, that he will bore of me and throw me out like he did his wife, and will find another girl more his own class. I argued with her over and over but in Chichester she was going across the road and talking to that nosy woman who lived opposite, and who has poisoned her mind.

I t
old her Mr Henry would come for me and the baby on the day he said he would, and I would take my chances with him for I do love him so. But Ma was worried and she wrote home and my Pa hired a cart and came to fetch us yesterday. I  protested but Pa told me shut up and do as I am told, for I am unmarried and not of age and so I am still his responsibility.

‘
You have gone your own way long enough while I turned a blind eye and now you have brought shame on us,’ he told me. ‘You have hidden your baby in Chichester till now but you have to face the folk of Worthing who know us and will guess who the father must be. I won’t have those folk think we have abandoned you to him. They must know we are still a family and can hold our heads up high, and don’t need the likes of Mr Cavell. You should have married that boy Frederick when you had the chance. Then you’d not be in this sorry state.’

‘
But Pa,’ I said. ‘I love Mr Cavell and I do want to go back and live with him, no matter what people might say.’ I felt the tears come in my eyes and dashed them away and held little Henry close.

‘
You’ll live quietly with us till the baby is weaned, then me and your Ma will bring him up as our own, while you go and find work in another town where they don’t know you. Maybe some decent young man will take pity on you then, if you don’t tell him your past.’ Pa’s nose and cheeks were red. That means there’s no arguing with him, you’ve just got to go along with what he says.

I hung my head and follow
ed him out to the cart. It was a long and lonely journey back to Worthing. All I could think of was Mr Henry and how he would feel when he arrived back in Chichester to an empty house. Pa would not let me so much as leave a note. Tears ran down my face and wet the child’s head as we drove back. He grizzled and fretted like he knew his mama was sad. Holding his little warm body was the only comfort for me.

Ma w
as trying to make the best of it, chattering on about how nice it would be to have a baby in the house and how lovely to have me home again and about the leg of mutton she would roast on Sunday to celebrate. I could only think about the cosy kitchen downstairs in the Marine Parade house, and how Maria and I work together to make a Sunday roast, and how she’d like to see my baby and how when I think
home
now I think of Marine Parade, and when I think
family
I think of my baby and Maria and of course, Mr Henry. Though I do love my Ma and Pa and know they want only for the best. And Ma said my littlest sister Julia who still lives at home was proud to be an aunty and looking forward to helping with the baby.

It w
as a quiet and lonely night, back in my old room with the baby in a drawer pulled out of Ma’s dresser. I cried half the night, and Julia tried to comfort me by patting my shoulder and telling me how pretty my baby was. I wanted to go straight to Mr Henry’s house in the morning before he left for Chichester but Pa wouldn’t let me out in the storms and the time slipped by until I looked at the parlour clock and knew he would have got on the coach already. I went to my room and fed the baby and thought hard. I love my Pa but he was
wrong
this time, I know my Mr Henry does love me and the baby and would
not
throw us out for another girl,
ever
. I decided I must run away from Pa. Tomorrow I must go to Marine Parade. Mr Henry would return tomorrow from Chichester and I would be there to meet him and be sorry and explain my Pa only meant to help me.

I fe
lt better when I had made up my mind, and I passed the day quietly, tending to the baby and doing some plain sewing. Ma made a fish pie for dinner which was filling and comforting and she built up the fire in the parlour grate and closed shutters over the windows so we could forget the wild winds that blew outside. I wrapped the baby in a shawl and put him to sleep on an armchair near the fire.

When Pa
was out of the room she caught my eye. ‘Jemima, you’re not planning to go back to him, are you?’

‘
Ma, I do love him,’ I said. ‘And I do believe he loves me too, and….’

‘
And what? Love is enough, you think?’ she said, with spit in her voice.

‘
Love
is
enough.’ I put a full stop on my words so she would stop the talk there. I believe it, I know it. I just need for him to prove it now, to my Ma and Pa.

We s
at in silence and watched the fire burn and little Henry’s chest rise and fall. The clock ticked, the wind howled in the chimney and the rain smashed against the window.

I
was wondering whether to go upstairs to bed when there was a pounding at the door.

‘
Who can that be, on such a night?’ said Ma, but she sat and waited for Pa to come from the kitchen and open the door.

We hear
d a mumble of voices, and then the parlour door opened and in strode Mr Henry. He was followed by Pa, with face red and fists clenched.

I jump
ed to my feet. ‘Sir, Mr Henry, you’re drenched, come in, let me find a towel for your face, come, dry yourself by the fire!’

But he d
idn’t go to the fire, he stood before me and looked deep into my eyes. His own eyes were full of sadness and fear and love and hurt, and I knew all at once what he must have suffered when he found me gone. I had turned my back on my love just like the fortune-teller at Cissbury Ring had said I would. I felt shame and sorrow that I had done this to him, that I had let my Pa take me away. All at once I realised that nothing was more important than our love. If he still wanted me, I would defy my Pa and go with him, no matter what might befall me.

The room f
ell silent for a minute, then everyone talked at once.

‘
Mr Cavell, I took my daughter away for her own good. Men like you steal the best of girls like her then throw them off like a worn-out coat.’

‘
Sir, my husband wanted to bring her back. You won’t be cross I hope, we wanted only what’s right for her.’

‘
Jemima, you’re safe, and that’s all that matters.’

At the sound of his voice, Ma and Pa f
ell silent and stood waiting to see what would happen next. Pa’s face was still red and Ma was twisting her apron around in her hands. I caught sight of wide-eyed Julia peeking around the door, her hand over her mouth.

Mr Henry gazed at me a minute longer, like he w
as looking for an answer in my eyes. I tried to tell him silently I love him, I want to come back with him and us be a family, I don’t care what people in the town will say. He must have read this there, for he then turned to my Pa.

‘
Mr Brown, I am sorry you do not trust me and perhaps I should have come to speak to you sooner. Sir, I want the same as you, that is, I want only what is best for your daughter, for I love her with all my heart.’

Pa opened his mouth to say something but Mr Henry held up a hand to shush him. I th
ought how Pa must find it strange to be called ‘sir’ by such a gent.

‘
I would, sir, ask for her hand in marriage but as you know I am not free to marry. If only I were.’ He sighed. ‘I am legally separated from my wife. I can offer your daughter everything except marriage. It is, I believe, enough for her,’ he looked at me and I nodded. ‘Is it enough for you?’

Pa spluttered a moment.
‘Mr Cavell, I, well, that is, your words are very fine but only time will tell whether…’

This time Ma shush
ed him. Mr Henry was pulling something out of his pocket – a small pouch of velvet. ‘Hold out your hand, Jemima,’ he said. I did, and he tipped something out into my palm.

At first I th
ought it were a piece of glass, but it sparkled in the firelight like no glass I have ever seen before. And then I recognised it – the jewel I saw once before on Mr Henry’s dressing table. It was cut into a regular shape, angles on each side match angles on the other. It seemed to shine from inside with its own light. I turned it over in my hand and held it up to let the firelight shine through it.

‘
Jemima, show me?’ said Ma, and I passed the stone to her. ‘Mr Cavell, is this a diamond?’ she asked him. Her voice was breathless with wonder. I gasped for I had not thought it could be a diamond, having never believed diamonds could grow so big.

‘
It is, yes. It was given to me by an Indian Maharajah when I served in the army there. I decided many years ago I would give it only to the woman I loved and with whom I wanted to spend the rest of my life. I am giving it now to Jemima. It is hers to keep, no matter what happens between us.’

‘
Must be worth a bob or two,’ said Pa. His voice were quieter now and I wondered had the diamond done the trick and did he now believe Mr Henry meant what he said. I thought perhaps I should say no, such a jewel is not for such as I, but then I remembered again the fortune-teller, and how she said to take the jewel when it is offered to you, and surely now is that moment she foresaw. But still I wondered what on earth one such as I would do with a jewel such as this.

‘
We’ll take it to a jeweller and have it set into a necklace for you. Or a brooch, whatever you prefer,’ Mr Henry said to me as if he knew what I were thinking. Now I wondered what clothes I could possibly wear with such jewellery.

Mr Henry turn
ed back to Pa. ‘Sir, have I convinced you of my sincerity? Are you reassured of your daughter’s happiness if she comes back to live with me?’

‘
Well, you have the wealth to keep her, Mr Cavell…’ he said, then he glanced at my Ma for help.

‘
If it’s what she wants…’ said Ma.

‘
It is, oh, it is!’ I cried out. Ma and Pa gave each other small smiles, and I took that as blessing, and ran into Mr Henry’s arms. I felt him sigh with relief as he buried his face in my hair and kissed the top of my head.

In his arms I fe
lt like I had come home. Little Henry gave a tiny cry, like he was saying, don’t forget about me! Mr Henry laughed and picked up the baby from the armchair. He kissed his son and then came and put his arm around me, holding the baby between us. ‘We’ll be a family at last,’ he whispered to me, and I felt my heart swell with love for my two Henrys. No woman could be happier than I was, right there and then, and I saw my Ma and Pa smile at each other, and I knew that everything was going to turn out well for all of us, and especially for Henry, little Henry, and me.

The End