Mr Cavell's Diamond (3 page)

Jemima

Being
Holy Sunday I had the afternoon off to see my family. Also Mrs Smith said I could go to Church in the morning if I were back-along to serve the Master his luncheon. I went up to St Mary’s and sat there in a middle pew waiting for the Rector. He was late as always being he has other interests outside the Church (this makes my Ma mad as she says a Rector’s first priority should be his Flock and his Church, and with Easter being so important he should be on time). A young man with a freckled face and friendly smile sat next to me. ‘The Rector has another living at Tarring,’ he told me. ‘He’ll have been doing the service there. That’s why he comes so late to us here.’ I smiled at this and the young man took it as encouragement and told me his name was Frederick. I didn’t tell him my name.

The Rector
got there by and by, and we got our Easter service. Afterwards I had to walk fast before Frederick became over-friendly, and also because the service was so late starting and so long that I was scared I would be too late to serve the luncheon. I was quite out of breath and red in the face when I got back. It was lucky I did hurry for I was no sooner in the door than the Master was calling for coffee to be brought to his bed chamber, where he was trying on different clothes. I don’t think he even noticed me put down the coffee on the side table.

Not long after, Her Majesty (as
Mrs Smith and I call Miss Simpson, for the way she queens it over us when she comes to the house, which is far too often for our comfort, says Mrs Smith), pulled on the doorbell and came in like a swan all stretched neck and high-held nose.

The Master w
as down the stairs before I had even shown her into the drawing room. ‘Caroline you look stunning,’ he said. She must have liked this compliment for she smirked and a knowing look came in her eye. I thought that she was plotting something and I said so to Mrs Smith when I went back to the kitchen.

She sh
ook her head and pursed her lips. ‘That Simpson woman wants to be Mrs Cavell. But he’ll be just playing with her, and she’ll live to regret it, mark my words.’

When the Master and Miss
Simpson left the house Mrs Smith said I was free for the afternoon. First, I went home to see my Ma and Pa. My sister Emmy has a sweetheart and they planned to go to Cissbury Ring. Mother was not happy for she knows well what goes on there after dark so she asked me would I go along-of them. It was a fine day – tis said the sun always dances on Holy Day – and Cissbury festival is fun, so I agreed and we three went off arm in arm, with Emmy in the middle.

Cissbury
was full of people as it most-in-general is at Easter, and they had brought barrels of ale up on mule-back to add to the merriment. How they got those mules through the cuckoo-gates I surely cannot say. Emmy and her sweetheart spied a gypsy woman who were telling fortunes. Her hair was black and unwashed, her eyes green and her hands flashed with many rings. We stood in line and paid our pennies. Emmy came away giggling after her turn, but she wouldn’t say what was told to her. I was scared for my part – I wondered would I like what I heard. But the gypsy woman went quiet and serious when I approached. She watched me carefully as I sat down and then she sighed, like she was not sure how to tell me what she saw in my face.

I nearly g
ot up to leave, then she caught my hand and inspected my palm. ‘Riches,’ she said. ‘Long life, love, and children, many children.’ I smiled at her for this were all good news.

‘
But it don’t come yet,’ the gypsy went on. ‘It don’t come to you for dunnamany years, and when it do come, you will turn your back on it. Leastways that’s what I sees here.’ I frowned at her – why would I turn my back on a man who loved me if I loved him too?

‘
Look for the jewel,’ she said, fixing me with her eyes, green and bright as a spring morning. ‘Take the jewel when it is offered to you.’

‘
What jewel?’ I asked but she waved me away and turned to the next person.

Emmy
asked me what was said but as she didn’t tell me her fortune, so I didn’t tell her mine. We went looking for her sweetheart who had gone to watch the fighters in the ring. Then I spied a crowd around one table, and we went to see what was happening there.

‘
Magico!’ said Emmy. ‘I saw him here last year. Don’t loan him your penny or you won’t never see it again – he spirits it away in some clever way.’ We went close up to watch his tricks, and I gasped for in front of the magician and arguing with him was my master.

‘
Quickly, we must move away,’ said I for I thought Mr Cavell would not like to know he’d been seen at such a gathering of common folk. I was surprised to see him – I didn’t think it was the kind of entertainment a rich man such as he would like. When I told Emmy she craned her neck for a glimpse.

‘
Who is the lady along-of him, holding on to his arm?’ she asked me. I threw a glance over my shoulder and gasped again for it was Miss Simpson, and she was acting all familiar with him. Before I could answer, my sister looked again at them, and then turned to me and said, ‘No, I’m wrong. That’s no
lady
with him, surely.’ That made me laugh and we scurried away before they saw us.

We le
ft Cissbury not long after. I was so worried about Mr Cavell catching sight of me there that it was no longer fun, and Emmy and her sweetheart decided they preferred to watch the sunset on the beach, so we bought pies to eat as we walked, and set off back to town. I saw Frederick, the boy from the church, sitting on the cuckoo-gate at the bottom of the hill, and he doffed his cap and gave me a wink. It was only the late sun made me redden, is what I said to Emmy. I don’t think Frederick is who the fortune-teller had in mind when she told me I would find love.

Caroline

‘Where were you last night? Why were you so late back?’ Ann Simpson thumped her mug of tea down on the kitchen table, spilling half of it, and put her hands on her hips. ‘You’d better not be in trouble again, my girl. One bairn’s enough to cope with, you being out of work and all.’

‘
Oh Ma, I’m not in trouble,’ said Caroline. She smiled brightly at her mother and twirled around the kitchen. Little Frances was playing on a rug beside the hearth. Caroline scooped her up and planted a kiss on the top of the child’s head. ‘Quite the opposite, Ma. Everything is going according to plan. Do you hear that, Franny? Exactly according to plan.’ She spun round and round, and the little girl shrieked with delight.

‘
And what might those plans be, hmm?’ asked Ann.

‘
Never you mind, Ma,’ replied Caroline. Frances was squirming in her arms, so she put her down. The child crawled back to the hearthrug and began poking at the cold ashes. ‘But mark my words, I’ll be out of this place by the time summer comes. I’ll be living in a grand house, you’ll see.’

‘
What, you’ve got a situation to go to, at last?’

Caroline threw her head back and laughed.
‘No, I won’t be a skivvy. I’ll be the lady of the house. People will skivvy for
me
. Maybe there’ll even be a job there for my sisters. Imagine that, having my sisters working for me!’

Ann shook her head.
‘They won’t come and work for you. And whatever your so-called plans are, you’ll never be a lady. Now you get on and bathe that child. She’s got her fingers in the grate again. Look at the state of her!’

‘
Fine, I’ll wash her,’ said Caroline, picking Frances up again, but holding her at arm’s length.

‘
And have a look for the green plaid blanket, will you? It’s gone missing, and I wanted to put the child on it out in the yard this afternoon if it stays dry. Maybe your father took it for something.’

Caroline turned away and smiled to herself.
‘Yes, Ma, I expect that’s what’s happened to it.’

She took
Frances out to the yard and scooped water from a rain butt into a bucket, then sponged the child’s hands and face. Frances squealed her displeasure at the cold water and kept turning her face away. Caroline slapped her leg.

‘
Behave, Franny! How can I clean you when you fidget so? Ah, that’ll do. You’re clean enough.’ She sat back and considered the little girl, who was still whimpering from the slap. Suddenly she gathered her up and hugged her close, covering her face with kisses.

‘
I’ll bring you with me, Franny. I promise. When I’m a lady in the grand house, I’ll buy you pretty frocks and toys. I’ll have a maid to wash you and dress you. That will be fine, won’t it? You can be a proper little lady!’

She rocked the child on her knees.

‘We’ll both be ladies,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll make it happen, you’ll see.’

Quite how she would make it happen she didn’t entirely know, but somehow she would manage it, she was sure. She had to.

Chapter
3 – May 1829

Henry

Henry had acquired a dog. He’d bough
t the golden-haired lurcher, bred for hare-coursing, from a family of gypsies who’d camped on the beach for a few days. He called the animal Sultan. Good-natured and obedient, Sultan had already become a favourite with the household staff. Mrs Smith the cook would feed him the best of the leftovers, and the quiet little maid-servant liked to pet him whenever she came across him.

I’m putting down roots
at last, thought Henry. House, staff and now a dog. He liked the way the servants had taken to Sultan. Although business still frequently took him to London or Brighton, Worthing was beginning to feel like home. After his years in India moving around with his regiment it was refreshing to be living in a place where he felt he belonged. Perhaps it was time to look for a wife. Yes, a wife and children would suit him very well, now.

He looked out of his front bay window. The sea was a calm, glassy blue, and the May sunshine promised a good summer to come. He decided to take Sultan out to run on the beach.

‘Come on, boy,’ he said, as he stood up and tapped his leg. Sultan jumped up from his place beside the fire and skipped around excitedly. ‘Beach, old boy?’ asked Henry. Sultan replied with a gentle woof, as Henry attached a length of fine rope to the dog’s collar.

They were barely down the house steps, Sultan pulling frantically as soon as he felt the fresh air on his face, when Caroline appeared. She was walking along the Parade, her head bowed, her hands clasped together in front.

‘Caroline!’ said Henry. ‘We were just off to walk on the beach this fine morning. Meet Sultan, who has become my constant companion, my best friend and my soul mate, all within the three days since I bought him! See how his eyes sparkle – he is pleased to meet you I think, aren’t you, Sultan?’

The dog butted Caroline’s leg and attempted to lick her gloved hand. She snatched it away and took a step backwards.

‘Oh, a dog, how lovely. Quite delightful,’ she said. It was then that Henry noticed her red-rimmed eyes under her bonnet.

‘
But Caroline my dear, is there something wrong? Are you unwell?’ he asked, taking her hands in his. Sultan whined, but sat down resignedly at Henry’s heel.

‘
I’m quite well, thank you, Mr Cavell, but…’ Caroline burst into sobs.

Henry fumbled in a pocket for his handkerchief and passed it to her.
‘What is it, dear girl?’

‘
Oh, may we go inside? I cannot speak of this out here in the street,’ she said.

‘
Of course, of course, what am I thinking of? Sorry old boy,’ he said to Sultan. ‘Another time, hey?’

Once inside he called for the maid-servant to take care of the dog, and showed Caroline into the drawing room.
He poured her a brandy, which she took with shaking hands. ‘Now, take a sip of that to warm you, then tell me what this is all about.’

He watched her while she took a gulp, sniffed, and dabbed her eyes with his handkerchief once again.

‘Oh Henry. I don’t know how to tell you. Remember that day up on Cissbury Ring?’ she began.

Henry felt his stomach jolt. Of course he remembered it. He’d regretted it afterwards, seducing Caroline had not been one of his better ideas. Though had he seduced her, or she, him? He wasn’t quite sure. The heat of the moment, the beer they’d consumed, the romance of the evening had tainted his memories. But now it looked as though he would pay the price.

‘Caroline, do you mean to say… is it that… are you…?’ he stuttered.

‘
With child. Yes. Oh Henry, what will I do?’

‘
Caroline, my dear, oh, my dear Caroline,’ said Henry. He took her hands, and pulled him to sit beside him on the sofa. His thoughts were in turmoil. She was not his social class – this had not worried him while things were on a lighter footing, but now she was carrying his child! If he married her, Worthing society might ostracise him. But then, not to marry her, to abandon her and the child, was unthinkable. Whether he’d seduced her, or she’d seduced him, the fact was he’d made love to her and now she was carrying his child. She was his responsibility. And after all, had he not been thinking of acquiring a wife and children not an hour earlier? Here he was being handed his wish on a plate.

‘
Caroline, the question is what will
we
do. I’ll not abandon you, my darling.’ He moved closer, raised her hand to his mouth to kiss. Her eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted, her breath came fast.

‘
My dear, I’ll marry you. If that’s what you want?’ The words came as a rush.

She broke into a smile, that lop-sided one he’d found so endearing at first.
‘Oh Henry, I don’t want to tie you down if it’s not what
you
want…’

Henry sighed, and looked at the floor.
The thousand possible futures he’d imagined for himself as a young man dissolved like smoke on a breeze, leaving just the one, solid reality of a lifetime with this woman who sat sniffling beside him now. She may not be his ideal choice of mate, but he was attracted to her and wasn’t that enough? He raised his head and faced her again, smiling. ‘Caroline, you are beautiful, charming, amusing, and carrying my child. Of course it’s what I want. Come to me.’

He held out his arms, and she sank gratefully into them. He stroked her hair. So, his future
: marriage, a child, more children as the years went on. The faithful Sultan by his side. And life in this growing seaside town, which he’d grown to love. It was not a bad prospect.

‘
Henry?’ Caroline lifted her head away from his chest and smiled coquettishly at him. ‘Will we move to London when we are married? I should so like to live in London.’

Henry laughed.
‘Slow down, my darling! No, we shall not move to London for I like it too much here. And you would prefer to be near your parents and sisters.’

‘
When will we marry, Henry?’ Caroline asked.

‘
Soon, my love. I shall speak to your father tomorrow.’

Henry grimaced inwardly. When he’d employed
Simpson as his house painter, he’d never imagined that a few months later he’d be asking for his daughter’s hand in marriage. But it had to be done, and properly.