Where Seagulls Soar (10 page)

Joanna looked around her, sighing. ‘I can’t bear to see the place like this when my ma took so much pride in it.’

‘Why don’t you come back to the island to live, then we can see each other often. After all, it’s your cottage, and you could make a comfortable home for your son
here.’

It wasn’t the life Joanna had expected to give Alex’s son, but it was a decent life, for all that. Better than some had. Joanna smiled through her tears. ‘Is it my cottage?
Your family didn’t think I was a Rushmore, and neither did many of the locals.’

‘Who cares what they think, and who cares if you’re not blood kin? Joseph and Anna Rushmore brought you up as their own. None would have argued any different, except behind their
back and in private. Most of the islanders will keep their counsel with strangers, as they always have done. Except for old Hiram, and who listens to him, anyway?

‘What about Leonard?’

‘He’s never wanted what can’t be earned with his own two hands.’ Tilda drew her out through the door and closed it behind them. Bundles in hand they made their way up the
hill towards Tilda’s house.

Leonard was waiting to get back to the paddle steamer.

‘Joanna’s going to move back home next week,’ Tilda said, taking Toby in her arms and planting a kiss on his cheek.

Leonard nodded. ‘I’ll give you some help with moving your things, then. Our Brian was none too fussy, so I daresay you’ll need to scrub the place clean. Could be my Kirsty will
give you a hand. And I’ll dig over a vegetable patch for you on my day off. It’s likely I can manage a couple of laying hens, too.’

Twelve days later the cottage walls were gleaming with fresh whitewash, the windows shone, and the glowing patina on the heavy wooden furniture had been exposed by the application of a
slathering of beeswax and plenty of elbow grease.

Joanna’s helpers had now gone back to their own homes, including Mrs Bates, who’d been offered paid employment by Charlotte’s next-door neighbour. It was peaceful being on her
own with her blessed son, and they sat together and watched twilight fill the spaces until Toby became fractious.

Joanna fed her son some mash, then put him to the breast before laying him in his cot to sleep. She stooped to kiss his downy cheek, then unfurled his plump little hand and placed a kiss in
that, too, whispering, ‘Sleep well, my angel.’

Charlotte had objected to Joanna moving back to the island. ‘I’ll miss you both so much. How will you manage, my dear? Stay a little longer.’

‘You forget that I was raised to be self-sufficient. I need to go now, so I can establish myself and prepare the vegetable plot before the ground hardens.’ Joanna also needed to be
alone for a while, but she didn’t want to hurt Charlotte’s feelings by saying so.

‘Do you have money?’

‘Enough to see me through if I’m careful.’

‘You mustn’t be afraid to ask if you need anything, Joanna.’

Joanna had hugged her then. ‘I know. Thank you. We’re not too far away to visit.’

Downstairs, she placed Toby’s soiled linens into a metal bucket and set it to boil on the stove. When they’d cooled sufficiently, she carried the bucket out into the yard to rinse
the squares in cold water from the pump, wringing them between her bare hands, because the winding mechanism on the mangle had rusted solid. Tomorrow she’d slather the cogs with grease, in
the hope that they could be worked loose.

There was a pain in the pit of her stomach, as if her muscles were reacting to the days of manual work. She was unused to it now.

Leonard had strung her a washing line from the shed to the corner of the house. The rope was stiff, pale and untested, but it was strong, and hung where a line had always hung. It had an air of
permanence when she finished her task and the linens dripped water into the weeds.

It was late. The sun sent a path of rippling flames across the sea, so Joanna could almost fancy she heard it hiss as it slid into the water. Shadows were elongated. Dusk deepened from amaranth
into violet and filled the clamouring spaces inside her with peace. An owl landed on the roof and quietly hooted.

She went inside, seating herself on the shabby couch, now covered by the refurbished quilt. She felt glad Tilda had saved it as she ran her hand gently over it and said, ‘I’m home,
Ma.’

But it didn’t feel like home, for her spirit had moved on from the island life and was no longer content. She must be thankful and make the best of it, she told herself sternly. They had a
strong roof over their heads to shelter them from the weather, and she’d been raised to be practical, which was more than many people had.

Joanna sat there as darkness surrounded her, thinking of nothing in particular. She couldn’t shake off a feeling she’d never been away, that her life in between childhood and the
present had been nothing but a dream – a dream that had become a nightmare.

After a while she rose, locked the doors and went upstairs to bed. Through the window she saw that the moon had risen. It embroidered silvery patterns across the water and shone through the
window on to her bed – the bed of her childhood.

She remembered the events of earlier that day. How, to her surprise, Leonard had handed over the purse she’d thought she’d lost. Ten shillings had been added to the small amount of
change that it had already contained.

‘Seth Adams found it and asked me to return it to you,’ Leonard told her.

She’d glanced at him then, puzzled. ‘There seems to be more money in it than I thought I had. Have you lost any from your pocket? It might have slipped inside.’

Leonard had scratched his head and shrugged. ‘It hasn’t been in my pocket. I only opened the purse to slip his card inside, otherwise it’s as Seth Adams handed it to me. You
must have forgotten the amount you had, it’s easy done.’

Joanna hadn’t forgotten, since she didn’t have enough money now to overlook a farthing of it. Seth Adams must have placed it in there. Her face burned at the thought. How dare he be
so presumptuous on so slim an acquaintance.

Seth Adams. Agent of Enquiry
, his card stated. The man had an office near the Old Bailey law courts in London. She must remember to write and thank him for returning the purse, and try
to find a way to return the extra ten shillings.

‘I’ll never sleep,’ she whispered as her body sank into the soft feathers, now smelling of fresh air and sunshine.

But she did. When she woke it was to find that the tender new life she thought she’d been carrying inside her had slipped away. She should have felt sorrow, but her reaction was only one
of relief that she didn’t have an extra mouth to feed.

Seth finished reading the letter and crossed to the window of his offices, which occupied a corner situation and looked down into a street jostling with people on one side, and on to a laneway
full of the same – but less prosperous looking – on the other.

The two rooms were adequate for his needs. The larger one, on the lane side, was occupied by his clerk, who doubled as a detective since his ability to snoop equalled Seth’s own. It also
served as a waiting room. Seth always kept his door locked from the inside, his clients having to go through Mr Geevers first.

Seth’s enquiry business was hard to find, since he didn’t have his name on the door and the building itself was something of a rabbit warren. But it was deliberately so. Seth
didn’t need the money his profession brought him. Along with the interest from a healthy inheritance he’d invested, his main income came from the rest of the tenants in this building,
and the tenants of one or two others.

Seth only took on cases that interested him, whether they paid a fee or not. And he never involved himself with more than one at a time. He read the letter again and grinned, for he knew that
his honesty in any matter was ambiguous and, in this case, a means to an end.

‘The widow has taken the bait,’ he said, and chuckled as he folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket. Rising to his feet, he placed a tall hat on his head, picked up his cane
and sauntered into the other office. ‘I’m going out, Mr Geevers.’

‘Will you be long, Mr Adams?’

‘I shouldn’t be at all surprised. Look after things while I’m away.’

‘Certainly, Mr Adams. Don’t I always?’

Outside, the air was still and slightly oppressive, and the whiff of cat’s piss rose sharp and feral from every corner. Rubbish and horse dung embraced in fevered heat in the gutters while
clouds of flies danced in busy attendance.

Seth strode out, his long legs carrying him over the ground at a fast pace.

He reached the home of his client, leaving his hat and cane with the servant when he was announced. Waved to a seat, Seth accepted the proffered brandy. The pair savoured their drinks for a few
moments, then Seth said, ‘I’ve made some progress. The girl is living in Portland with her son.’

‘She’s gone to earth back to where she came from, then.’

‘Has she? I didn’t realize she was from those parts. What exactly did you want with her?’

‘I want her background investigated. Who her parents were, the details of her first marriage—’

‘First marriage?’

‘To Tobias Darsham. He drowned a couple of weeks after they were wed, and left her the Darsham and Morcant Shipping Company. It was several months before the body turned up and he was
buried in Southampton. I heard that she put everything in Alexander Morcant’s name, then married him. Now
he
’s dead.’

‘You think she killed him? She’d have had nothing to gain by doing that.’

‘Of course she wouldn’t, which is why it needs investigating. Something very odd went on there.’

‘Such as?’

‘The two husbands were friends long before Joanna arrived on the scene. Alexander Morcant was Tobias Darsham’s heir. But when Darsham died and his will was read, everything was left
to the widow. Not long after, everything was transferred to Alexander’s name and she shipped herself off to Australia. Alexander went after her. They came back as a family, the girl with
their son at her breast. They’d been married on board ship. Alexander died not long after they got home.’

‘Was there anything suspicious about his death?’

‘Not according to the doctor. He said it was a straight out case of peritonitis brought about by a burst appendix. I’ve got no reason to disbelieve him. Joanna Morcant was visibly
upset when Alex died.

‘One scenario presents itself immediately. She may have conspired with her second husband to kill the first. Did any money go missing?’

‘I understand that the widow withdrew a large amount of money from the company account before she transferred it into Alexander’s name. The transaction was quite legal, since she was
the sole owner of the company at the time, and was entitled to draw down a director’s salary and expenses. Odd, though, that she couldn’t afford to pay for his funeral. I settled the
account.’

Seth’s grey eyes settled on Lord Durrington. ‘Why would you do that?’

Durrington shrugged. ‘Alexander Morcant was my son, though he refused to acknowledge me as his blood.’

Seth began to like Alexander Morcant. ‘I see. And your motive in this case?’

‘It’s too late to beget myself a legitimate heir now, but that girl is the mother of my grandson. I want to have legal guardianship of the boy and raise him as my own. If I have to
discredit his mother to do it, I will.’

Seth only just stopped his lip from curling. ‘Have you asked Joanna Morcant if you can have legal guardianship?’

‘I intend to. But I need something to tip the scales in my favour.’ Rising to his feet, the old man clapped Seth on the shoulder. ‘I’m relying on you, lad. Your brother
recommended you.’

The affair was beginning to stink like a foxhole. ‘Which one of my two half-brothers do I have to thank for this? Surely not the earl himself, since we’ve not spoken in
years.’

‘Barnard.’

‘Ah, the
banker
.’ Though usurer would be a better name for Barnard’s profession. ‘Good friends, are you?’

‘We have mutually beneficial dealings from time to time. Barnard said you would be discreet over this matter, and would welcome the fee, for you have a child to raise.’

A threat, if ever he’d heard one. ‘And raise her, I shall. I never discuss money with clients. They can either afford to pay, or they can’t. Those who can will be billed by my
clerk in due course.’

‘Of course.’

Seth smiled gently. ‘I heard that Barnard drew in his loan on the company, then seized the assets of the Morcant Shipping Company. You bought it cheaply from him, I understand.’

Durrington shrugged. ‘Clara Nash’s dislike for the girl overrode her good sense and she played right into my hands. My only sorrow is that Alex died before I could carry through my
plans for us to jointly own the shipping company and expand into steam. You know Clara is ill, don’t you? Serves her right, she should never have meddled with opiates.

Seth had never met Clara Nash, knowing her only by reputation. He’d long been aware of her excesses and appetite for the exotic and unusual. ‘Didn’t the lady have young
daughters. What happened to them?’

Lord Durrington smiled. ‘The sweetest pair of innocent doves I ever set eyes on. Clara guarded them with her life, since it’s all she had left to bargain with. I had intended to wed
one of them so I could get myself an heir on her. But Alexander got in her ear and the girls dug their heels in. I could have had the pair at a price, the second as my mistress. But it meant
forcing the issue, and Clara wanted too much for allowing me that little pleasure.’