The Silver Touch (40 page)

‘Thank you, Peter.’

He almost looked back at her. For the fraction of a second he was tempted to gaze again on the face of the woman who enthralled him more and not less with every passing day, but he had almost given himself away once already and he dared not risk it a second time. ‘Good evening to you,’ he said over his shoulder and went off down the road in the direction of his own home. She felt rebuffed anew, hurt and angered by him.

When Hester’s design and the discs came next morning, Anne-Olympe was aware he had presented her with a challenge. No easy task here, but a grand inkstand with three wells, flush lids and fine beading, complete with a pen-tray and a candle-holder and snuffer. She set to work at once, singing under her breath. In spite of Peter’s churlishness towards her she felt she was making the inkstand for him, and although their shared animosity was unabated, it gave a certain excitement to the project.

The inkstand was magnificent when finished. Hester was generous with praise and so was Jonathan. Peter only gave a nod. Anne-Olympe’s Gallic temper flared, making her long to throw the inkstand at him.

‘What do you want me to do next?’ she hissed.

‘Tell me what you prefer.’

‘Trays!’ She knew she would be taking away from him the work that he liked best.

‘Very well. The designs are on the shelf.’

She took the one that offered the most intricate work. He unlocked the chest where the discs were kept and gave her what she needed. She stalked away.

For all Jonathan’s penchant for the luxuries of life, he had the Bateman dedication to work and took immense pride in the articles he made. Hester knew only too well that he also felt that his wife’s extension of the working premises had given him a larger stake in the business than his brothers, and he tried to use this against them on occasions. Unfortunately for Anne-Olympe, he was more careless in his marriage bed than he would ever have been at work and she became pregnant every year. Hester’s respect for her daughter-in-law grew. No matter how unwell Anne-Olympe was feeling, she never shirked the silversmithing she had taken on and once collapsed with labour pains at her work-bench. It was as if she were driven at all times, not in competition with her husband, but by a need to prove to Peter that she could match any one of the Batemans and he more than the rest.

With such an excellent team of workers at her benches, Linney having elected to stay on after registering his ‘touch’, Hester concentrated much of her time on designing. Yet she let no one use her work-bench and took up her place there to continue making the small articles that were always her choice.

All three of her sons benefited greatly from her prosperity which had become firmly established during the first half of a decade that had passed since the exhibition, and neither did Linney’s wages fall short, he being entitled to the same bonuses as the Bateman brothers. Anne-Olympe received the same benefits as her husband, for Hester had never been able to understand why a woman should be penalized by her sex in the matter of pay.

She found her soaring financial status faintly amusing. It had no importance for her beyond the thriving of her business, for she had always known the true values of life and wealth had never been on her list. Yet inevitably she now had her own coach as did her sons and there were thoroughbred horses in her stables. Silk drapes adorned the windows of her home, and much of the replacement furniture was from Mr Chippendale’s shop in St Martin’s Lane. In the matter of jewellery she had sought Richard’s advice, for none could judge a precious stone better than he, and from him she had purchased a few beautiful and quite simple pieces that she wore on special occasions.

She chose to wear an emerald brooch and a velvet gown of the same hue on the Sunday evening when she felt a need to confide in James. They sat by the fire in the mansion after having had supper together. She had brought him a tincture made from boiled dandelion root for his minor digestive trouble and he enjoyed her consideration. Mary had merely slapped him on the back and told him to ride to hounds more often in the fresh air.

‘Peter and Anne-Olympe are more hostile to each other than ever.’ She lifted a hand, letting it drop into her lap again despairingly. ‘Jonathan never takes either side. Sometimes he seems to enjoy their sparring. He has a curious sense of humour. Who would ever have thought that a feud between his wife and his brother would have lasted so long?’

‘It’s not surprising if what you happen to believe should be true.’

‘That she is as drawn to Peter as he is to her? Oh yes, as I have said to you before, underneath all that open hostility there is a bond between them. She doesn’t recognize it, of that I’m sure, but it is always his approval that she seeks, no matter what show of indifference she puts on. In the same way she is completely loyal to Jonathan, who neglects her shamefully for his pleasures in town.’

James kept a tactful silence. It was well known in city circles that a certain married woman, prominent in society, was Jonathan’s mistress and there had been others before her. The young man had charm and money, a combination that opened any door. As if reading his thoughts, Hester leaned forward in her chair and tapped him sharply on the arm with her closed fan.

‘Don’t suppose I’m ignorant of Jonathan’s paramours! I have ears in my head too, you know, James. So you may speak freely to me as an old friend.’

‘In that case,’ he answered candidly, ‘it’s a pity that Anne-Olympe chose the wrong brother and that Peter didn’t wait a while before remarriage to see what was over the horizon.’

‘I agree, but he was much younger then and, as we know, the young never listen to advice. Added to that, we Batemans have always been a headstrong bunch.’

‘Even the other Ann in your family?’

Hester gazed pensively before her. ‘Even Ann in her own quiet way,’ she conceded. She would regret to the end of her days those heated moments when she had let a long-buried and never fully formed thought about Matthew Grant burst to the surface. Ann’s momentarily stricken face had confirmed the truth of it. Somehow that had severed a link, putting a longer distance between her and her daughter than stretched from Bunhill Row to York. How easy it was by a single unguarded phrase to alienate one’s own offspring. There was not even a grandchild to heal the breach, for Ann and Dick’s marriage seemed destined to be childless, just as there continued to be no sign that Peter and Sarah would have a family.

‘Is Joss back at work again?’ James enquired.

Hester broke out of her reverie. ‘Yes, he was only away a few days. Neither he nor Alice have any idea what ailed him, but he has lost weight and needs to regain it.’

‘I wish him well. No news of William, I suppose, now that the American colonies have finally rebelled?’

‘None. The only consolation with a son in a fighting force is that no news can be good news.’

‘I agree. The military authorities would notify you if anything fatal occurred.’ He saw her shudder and she suddenly hugged her arms. ‘Are you cold, my dear?’

She managed a bleak smile. ‘Not really. Perhaps someone walked across my grave. Let’s talk no more of death.’

‘Indeed not.’ He lifted himself up from his chair to boot a couple of the glowing logs into the leaping flames. ‘Shall we play backgammon?’ he suggested cheerfully. ‘You beat me soundly last time and I want revenge.’

The rosy light danced over her lifted expression and she clapped her hands together in agreement. The rest of the evening passed in good form.

He walked her home to her door as he always did, holding a large umbrella over her, for it was raining a little. They exchanged a good-night kiss out of their fondness for each other, although there were still times when he would embrace her as heartily as if they were still as young in their bodies as they were in their minds.

‘Good night, James.’

‘Sleep well, Hester.’

She let herself into the house and closed the door behind her. A candle-lamp was always left on the side table in the hall for her on these evenings, for she saw no reason to keep the servants up late. Even as she reached for it, someone moved out of the shadows by the stairs and seized her about the waist from behind, clapping a hand over her mouth at the same time. She almost fainted as William’s voice whispered in her ear.

‘Don’t be afraid, Mother. I just don’t want anyone else in the house to know I’m here. When I release you, pick up the lamp and go into the parlour. I’ll follow and whatever you do, don’t cry out when you see me. I’m not as you last saw me.’

His hand left her mouth. As she released her cape he took if from her and she heard it fall across a chair. Obediently she picked up the lamp. He followed her quietly but she caught what she thought was the tap of a cane. When she reached the parlour she set down the lamp and then turned as he came from shutting the door after them.

She pressed fingertips to her mouth to keep back the cry he had feared. He was greatly changed, a scar gouged his forehead over the right eye from brow to hairline and it was not a cane that supported him, but a crutch, one leg seemingly useless. As for his clothes, they were tattered and filthy as if he had slept in them for months, a pervading odour coming from them suggestive of a ship’s hold. Yet his cheerful grin on his unshaven face was unchanged, the same mischief in his eyes as if surprising her had been no more than one of his boyhood pranks. She burst into tears of joy at their reunion, rushing forward with her arms outstretched. They hugged each other for several minutes, she unable to control her weeping and he also moved to a wetness of the eyes that he quickly wiped away when eventually she stood back from him.

‘Have you deserted?’ she asked fearfully.

He threw back his head and laughed. ‘I can tell that you don’t believe that even eleven years in the army could change me! No, I’ve not scarpered. They invalided me out and sent me home on a ship with a number of other wrecks they could no longer keep on the march.’ She had pushed a chair forward for him and he dropped into it, close to exhaustion. ‘I’ve had to beg my way here from the Pool of London where I disembarked and it has taken me more days than I bargained for to make my way to Bunhill Row. Fortunately I was able to slip into the house just before your servants locked up for the night.’

‘Did the army send you home penniless?’ She was indignant at the thought of such military callousness.

He shook his head wryly. ‘No, but you should know my luck, Mother. I was robbed on board ship, not being able to defend myself as once I could have done. It was being set upon by footpads in a London street that started the chain of events that eventually landed me in the army and so it’s no surprise to me that a similar attack should accompany my leaving it.’

‘How were you wounded?’

‘Not on the battlefield, although I did get this scar in a skirmish.’ He grinned ruefully. ‘A runaway army wagon knocked me down and crushed my leg. Mercifully the surgeons didn’t cut it off and it has healed.’

She put a hand to her head in bewilderment. ‘Why am I standing here asking you questions. You must be starving!’

‘I haven’t eaten since yesterday. But tell me first — are all the family well?’

‘Yes, I’m thankful to say. Joss is the least fit at the moment but he was back at his bench today.’

‘And what of Sarah?’ He spoke deliberately.

‘She and Peter live a few doors away. They have no children.’

‘Not even mine?’

‘No. Did you think that might have happened?’

He shrugged. ‘I thought it unlikely, but when Peter wrote that he had married her, I did wonder if it had been to give a child of mine a name.’

‘Is that why you wanted no one else to know you were here?’

He gave a nod. ‘I didn’t want to arrive like a spectre from the past to spoil their lives until I knew the situation. It’s why I stopped writing. I know it must have been hard on you not to have a word from me, but I was faced with what seemed to me to be a lifetime in another land and I never expected to see my own country again.’

‘Why should you suppose Sarah might still care for you after all this time?’

‘I’ve not forgotten what she said to me when I marched away.’

‘And you?’ She almost held her breath in trepidation. ‘When you wrote after the news of the marriage you made it plain it was of no importance to you that she had wed.’

His pain-worn face changed subtly as if she had touched a nerve. ‘I daresay if she had not married my brother I should have tried now to win her back to me.’

Her mind was racing. Whatever happened they must not meet. Peter and Sarah had put their lives together again and if that was disrupted, however unintentionally, it would leave Peter more vulnerable to Anne-Olympe and immeasurable trouble there. ‘Come into the kitchen,’ she urged, needing time to think. ‘You look ready to drop and there’s plenty of food in the pantry.’

He ate at the kitchen table, wolfing down bread, pickles, cold potatoes and the slices of beef that she had cut from a joint. As she heated water on the range and brought a tin hip-bath that the servants used, she gave him news of the family and friends, for he had received none of the letters written to him for over three years, having been constantly on the move. After he had demolished an apple pie and drained his tankard for the third time, she sat down as she asked him if he had made any plans for his future.