Sea Mistress (31 page)

Ellie smiled but it didn't reach her eyes. ‘We're even then,' she said, ‘I wouldn't fancy you if you were the last man left alive on earth. Now please leave my house and don't come back until you have what I want.'

When Matthew left the yard, it was with mixed feelings; he'd expected to come out of all this on top, to add Ellie's contribution to the money Paul Marchant was already paying him but here he was sent away like a whipped dog. He ran his hands through his hair, she would pay and good, he'd bring her the proof she wanted, she wouldn't dare talk to anyone else about it. In the meantime, he would go to see the saddler, persuade him that it would be in his interest to do whatever Matthew wanted of him. It would not be difficult to get the man to implicate Ellie, to say it was all her idea that they hide the contraband inside the saddles and collars. It was the waggons from Glyn Hir that had delivered the leather to the saddler and had collected the finished articles of tack some time later. Oh, yes, it would appear to anyone interested that Ellie Hopkins, or at least her husband Jubilee, had been in on the scheme from the beginning. He would beat her yet, just let her wait and see.

After Matthew had gone, Ellie went into the kitchen and sank into one of the wooden chairs. She put her head in her hands and closed her eyes.

‘What's up, missus, you look like death?' Rosie had come into the kitchen and was standing beside her.

‘I've just had a visit from Matthew,' Ellie said with a sigh, ‘he's after money again.' Ellie did not choose to go into too much detail, Rosie meant well but she was an incurable gossip.

‘Still on about them shares, is he? Your husband should never have promised him anything.' Rosie was still bitter about the way Matthew had treated her. ‘He's a no-good and he's a dangerous no-good, you look out for him.'

‘Oh, I will.'

‘Anyway, let me take your mind off things,' Rosie sat opposite her, plump arms on the scrubbed surface of the table, ‘I've heard a bit of gossip.'

‘No, really?' The irony was lost on Rosie, she leaned forward eagerly.

‘Mrs Marchant has left her husband, been forced out of her own home, so the gossips are saying.
He's
gone and brought in some fancy piece from Ireland, says she's a housekeeper, a bedwarmer more like it, and no woman is going to stand for that. Course the rich will turn a blind eye to it all, as they usually do when it comes to one of their own. So long as that man Marchant don't parade his lady love in public no-one will say a word against him. All at it, they are, if you ask me.'

Ellie looked up. ‘Where on earth would Bridie go in her state of health?' she asked and Rosie shrugged.

‘Blowed if I know but all she got with her is that funny chair she had made for herself and a change of clothes. Took one of the servants too so I heard. Suppose she had to have someone, her not being able to walk.'

Ellie sat up straighter, this needed looking into, there was something very strange going on and it seemed that what concerned the Marchants was going to concern her too if she was ever to get Matthew Hewson out of her life. But she knew where she might be able to learn more about Bridie, if anyone could make an educated guess it would be Arian Smale, she and her newspaper hounds seemed to know everything.

Ellie felt her spirits lift, Matthew believed he had the upper hand, well she wasn't so stupid as he thought, she would find out the truth herself, she would speak to Paul Marchant, it would be in his own best interests to refute Matthew's absurd claims. She rose to her feet, she had to be alone, she needed to think things through away from everyone, even Martha. ‘I'll go through into the study,' she said, ‘and Rosie, you'd better take some hot milk up to Martha, I know she went to bed early but she won't be sleeping yet.'

When she was seated in the big leather chair, in what had once been Jubilee's retreat, Ellie bit her lip trying to sort out her muddled thoughts. If what he claimed was anything like the truth, she might have to give Matthew half her money just to get him to leave her alone but she would have to make sure he didn't come back for more and keep coming back. The last thing she wanted was another scandal in her life, especially now that she had Daniel to consider. Matthew knew her weak spots, all right, Jubilee's good name and Daniel's too were more important than Ellie's own.

But she wouldn't give up without a fight, she would learn all she could about Paul Marchant's affairs, arm herself with every possible weapon of defence and perhaps, just perhaps, she might get the best of Matthew Hewson.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Paul Marchant looked at Ellie Hopkins as if she had taken leave of her senses, she had called this evening meeting claiming it was urgent and yet she was sitting there so calm and composed anyone would think they were here to discuss the weather.

He was seated in his ships offices behind his imposing desk, his brief Christmas holiday over and he was not feeling in very good spirits. His sons had come home from their trip abroad and far from being grateful for the fine time they'd had, they got on his nerves by whining for their mother throughout the festive season. They hated Carmella on sight and had driven the young Irish girl to distraction. In despair, Paul had arranged for the two boys to go to visit his aunt in Shrewsbury vowing that whatever happened, he would never allow Bridie the satisfaction of knowing she had been right about her sons' wishes all along.

‘Mr Marchant, this is very difficult but there is no other way than to be blunt,' Ellie spoke firmly. ‘I want Matthew Hewson to stop trying to blackmail me or I might be compelled to take further action.' Ellie's eyes were large in her pale face. Paul waited in silence for her to continue, he had no intention of revealing his hand, not until he knew what it was she had in hers. ‘These illicit dealings you might or might not be involved in have nothing to do with me, I am not interested so long as I am left alone.' When Paul didn't reply she continued more urgently. ‘You do know what he's saying about you, don't you?'

‘Blackmail, that's a nasty word, Mrs Hopkins,' Paul was prevaricating, wondering how much this woman really knew of his affairs. ‘As for illicit dealings, I'm not sure I know what you are talking about.'

‘The smuggling of opium in the leather you bought from me, that's what I'm talking about.' She sounded impatient and Paul realized there was no point in avoiding the issue, Hewson had really spilled all he knew, the fool.

‘Unfortunately no-one is going to believe that
you
are not involved,' Paul was still confident. ‘So I would just go home and keep your head down and your lips closed.'

‘And allow Matthew Hewson to blackmail me?' Ellie leaned forward in her chair. ‘Don't you understand?' Paul heard the tone of desperation in her voice. ‘This man is a threat to me and to you, too.'

‘Oh, I hardly think so.' Paul toyed with the silver paper knife on the polished surface of the desk, ‘Who is going to say anything to the authorities without incriminating themselves?'

‘So in other words you are hand in glove with Hewson, you are condoning what he is doing.' Ellie's shoulders sagged and Paul, watching her, felt a moment of triumph; good, the woman knew when she was beaten. He had admired her looks, had been nice to her in their past dealings but she had always seemed a bit above herself for the wife of a tannery owner.

Paul's first reaction to the fact that Hewson had told his little story to Ellie Hopkins had been one of anger but, on second thoughts, he saw clearly that the scheme to get a share of Ellie Hopkins' not inconsiderable fortune might benefit him too. From all accounts Ellie was now a very rich widow. If Hewson had a windfall coming, Paul wanted a share in it. As for the smuggling, he could give that up if it became too dangerous. At the moment, though he was getting richer by the minute and it was a feeling he very much liked.

He was on top of the world, he had rid himself of Bridie, not that he'd meant her to actually leave home, but now she had gone he was free to indulge himself as much as he liked with his little Irish colleen. He was very discreet when visiting her room but in any case the servants knew better than to gossip about him and what's more Carmella had won most of them over with her pale Irish beauty. His feelings softened, Carmella was the one woman he knew who loved him for himself, not for what she could get out of him. Take Bridie, his dear wife, she had spent years keeping secret books, making money to salt away in her own account, it was doubtful if she had ever loved him. It was madness at his age to fall in love when he had avoided it for so long but Carmella was irresistible, he wanted to hold her in his arms and make love to her whenever he saw her. Every other woman paled into insignificance when he looked into Carmella's lovely face.

He had never enjoyed his role as second in command to Bridie; to be accepted in society only because he was her husband had been a blow to his ego. Well now he was in charge of his own destiny and everyone would have to learn their place.

‘I'm sorry,' he said calmly, ‘it appears I am unable to help you.' He rose to his feet indicating the interview was at an end. Ellie rose too but she looked at him levelly, her eyes open and clear and for a moment, Paul felt uneasy.

‘He's dangerous, make no mistake about it, Matthew Hewson is not to be trusted. He'll turn on you when it suits him. He thinks only of himself, so I'd advise you to watch your back when he's around.'

‘It's you must watch your back, Mrs Hopkins,' Paul said quickly, a little too quickly.

She shook her head. ‘I'll tell you one thing, if Matthew pushes me too hard I'll go the authorities, I don't care what the consequences might be, I won't be blackmailed by someone like him. And have you thought of what would happen to you if I did that? Action would have to be taken. Everything about your business would be scrutinized, I don't think you would like that one bit.'

For a moment Paul was uneasy but he forced a smile. ‘I would claim I had no knowledge of any illicit dealings,' he said loudly. ‘It was my wife's ships which brought in the contraband from abroad, I'd say that was the reason we separated.' He smiled more easily now, he was still on top of everything. ‘I'd say I hadn't the heart to turn my wife, my poor sick wife, over to the Customs and Excise men but that on the other hand, I couldn't live with what she'd done.' He leaned forward and stared hard at Ellie and she flinched visibly. ‘And if I did go down, believe me I'd drag a lot of other people with me.'

He knew she was convinced, he saw it by the set of her face and the sudden drawing in of her breath. For a moment he felt almost sorry for her. ‘One word of advice, Mrs Hopkins,' he said more quietly, ‘keep Matthew happy, give him what he wants, it might save you a great deal of grief in the long run.'

The next morning, he called in to the office to pick up some papers he needed and as Brian Thomas was not yet in, he poured over the books just to reassure himself that his profits were increasing. After a time, he took his hat and coat from the stand, he had no intention of remaining all day in the office. In any case, Brian Thomas would be back any time now, he could look after things, that was what he was being paid for.

Now it was time for Paul to see Hewson, give him the sharp edge of his tongue. Tell him he knew Hewson was greedy, couldn't keep his trap shut. Warn him to ease up a little on the Widow Hopkins, pushing too hard might only serve to crack her and then she would go whining to the police.

Paul went first to the drab but respectable boarding house where Hewson was staying, the man had some sense, he didn't make a show of the money he'd suddenly acquired. On the other hand, the lady who owned the place was not unattractive, a little on the full-blown side, her features rather heavy, but Mrs Griffiths was passable and Matthew was doubtless paying some of his rent, at least, in kind.

‘
Duw
, not here, not Mat, not this time of the day, you'll find him in the public bar of the Castle if I'm any judge, don't know when he's going to find a decent job.'

She was talking like a wife already, Paul observed, they were all the same, give them an inch and they took a mile. Well, no, not all of them, not his little Carmella, she was different. A glow of satisfaction spread through him, he'd go to the Castle, have a word with Matthew and then go home and take Carmella to bed. What was the use of having plenty of money if he didn't do what he wanted with his time?

The bar was crowded, smoke-filled and in the corner a ragged, vociferous group of men were playing cards. The floor was covered in sawdust and the furniture comprised of old beer barrels sawn in half and upturned. Paul spotted Matthew at once, he was a big man, handsome too if you cared for the rugged type. And yet the man was no dullard. He was quite literate and particularly articulate which was one reason Paul had decided to use him. But he needed putting in his place, reminding who was boss.

‘Afternoon,' Paul stood beside Matthew, Paul the shorter by almost six inches but with the whip hand for all that.

‘Afternoon, Marchant.' Paul was not thrilled with the over-familiar tone of the man's voice but in the circumstances he could hardly protest. For a moment he wondered if by getting rid of Charlesworth and taking on Matthew he'd only substituted one problem for another.

‘We need to talk. Get me a mug of ale.' Paul moved to a chair near the window where it was fairly quiet. He hadn't missed Hewson's rather indignant raising of the eyebrows at his tone but right at this moment, he didn't care.

‘Anything wrong?' Matthew thumped the mug of ale on the table spilling some of it but Paul ignored the man's obvious ill humour.