The Rector's Daughter Page 20

  Mr Hatton forced a serious expression to remain on his face.

  ‘That may be, but a daughter’s love and care is beyond price.’ He gave Nicolas a speculative glance. ‘Since God gathered my dear Mrs Hatton to his bosom I’ve become accustomed to Charlotte’s ordering of my household. She knows all my little preferences.’ He shook his head. ‘I tell you honestly, at my time in life, I don’t know that I could do without her.’

  Nicolas stroked his chin. ‘I understand completely, of course. Mother too, liked things just so. But I would not expect to take your daughter from you without compensating you in some way for her practical loss. Perhaps two hundred a year will help you in your God-given work?’

  Resisting the urge to clap his hands, Mr Hatton walked to the window and gazed out.

  Two hundred a year! he thought, already compiling a list of how to spend his new allowance. The rectory could be given a much overdue overhaul for a start. Next, he could scrap that old bone-shaker of a carriage and buy himself a new sprung one and a fresh horse to pull it. He could even take a house in Brighton for the Season, something he hadn’t done for some time.

  He turned back and heaved an audible sigh. ‘I am afraid it is a parent’s lot to put their child’s happiness before their own comfort so, Captain Paget, you have my permission to marry Charlotte.’

  Nicolas shot over to him and grasped his hand in a slightly firmer grip than before and pumped his hand. ‘Thank you, Mr Hatton. Thank you.’ He glanced at the ceiling again. ‘As it is 2nd of June today my six months’ mourning period will be over at Advent, but I thought given the circumstances an early October wedding, when I’m out of deep mourning, might not cause too much of a stir.’

  ‘That seems acceptable.’ Mr Hatton gave Nicolas an indulgent smile. ‘She has been gently nurtured and should not have the married state thrust upon her so perhaps that would give her a time to adjust to the idea of marriage.’

  Nicolas nodded. ‘I’m sure you’re right, sir. Although she knows of my admiration I would not expect a young woman of Miss Hatton’s sensibilities to be eager for the more…’ He paused and stretched his neck ‘…purposeful side of wedded bliss.’

  ‘Your consideration does you credit, Captain Paget,’ the rector replied, leading Nicolas to the door. ‘Perhaps, as she is taking a few moments of ease in the garden, you might want to tell her the good news.’

  ***

  Leaning back on the garden bench, Charlotte closed her eyes and tilted her face up to the warm June sunshine.

  It would create a fresh crop of freckles, of course, but she didn’t care because Josiah said he loved them and had proved it by kissing each and every one across her nose the last time they’d met behind the old crab apple tree. With the shadows from the leaves of the beech tree behind her dappling the light through her eyelids, Charlotte inhaled and smelt the sweet fragrance of the summer flowers around her. Somewhere high above her a couple of blackbirds were singing while a bullfinch chipped along. It was idyllic. Well, almost because nothing could ever be totally perfect unless Josiah was with her.

  Sadly, they hadn’t met now for almost a week and then just for a fleeting half an hour. There had been another small flood in the tunnel a few days after she had taken Sarah to speak to Ezra, which had caused Josiah to spend long hours underground keeping the pumps working.

  She just prayed he would be able to get away to attend church on Sunday or it could be days before she could feel his strong arms around her and his warm lips pressed into hers. Something she was finding increasingly difficult to live without.

  Putting aside her despondent thoughts Charlotte conjured images of what their life together would be like once they were married. Her greeting him with a kiss and a hot meal when he came home at the end of a long day. Her mind ran on to their children, three or four to start with, sitting on their father’s knee while he read them stories. Her imagination shifted on to her and Josiah each evening sitting by the fire, sometimes chatting, sometimes quiet. It then moved on to the other part of married life, the part that Josiah’s kisses and caresses promised, and that she now found herself eager to experience.

  Her heart gave a little flutter, and a relaxed smile spread across her face.

  Her mind started giving her images of Josiah’s hands and mouth but then a shadow blocked out the sun.

  Charlotte opened her eyes and found Nicolas standing over her.

  ‘Nicolas,’ she said, sitting up straight.

  ‘Sorry.’ He smiled. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you but you looked so peaceful and happy I didn’t want to disturb you.’

  ‘No that’s fine, Nicolas,’ she said. ‘But what are you doing here?’

  ‘I’ve come to speak to your father about the arrangements for Mother and—’

  ‘Of course,’ said Charlotte, ashamed of her thoughtlessness. ‘I was so very sorry to hear of your mother’s passing yesterday.’

  ‘Thank you. May I?’ He indicated the space beside her on the bench.

  ‘Of course,’ said Charlotte, shifting along so he didn’t have to sit too close.

  Taking the linen handkerchief from his pocket he dusted the wooden struts then sat down, the bench creaking as it took his weight.

  ‘I know how very close you were to her,’ continued Charlotte, as he tucked the handkerchief back where it came from. ‘It must have been a shock.’

  Pressing his lips together, he nodded.

  ‘I’m sure she’s at peace now,’ she added. ‘And I’m sure you’ll give her a funeral she would be proud of.’

  ‘I am sure I will,’ Nicolas replied. ‘Especially as she’s left me instructions right down to the last letter. Despite her funeral arrangements being the daily topic of conversation she still felt the need, it seems, to include it in her will, just in case “I forgot”.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Charlotte said.

  Pain flitted across Nicolas’s face.

  ‘“Nicolas,” she would say, “I want four black horses and an oak casket and lay me next to your father. You won’t forget, will you?” and I would reply “It will all be just as you want, Mother, to the letter”.’ His Adam’s apple wobbled. ‘I promised her time and time again and yet she had to get the solicitor to read it aloud to everyone as if she feared I would go against her wishes.’

  He frowned, showing his likeness to the woman that had just been buried.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I know what it’s like to lose your mother but you were a good son.’

  He smiled.

  ‘Indeed I was, but now my duty is done I can look to my own happiness.’ Taking her hand. ‘Our happiness, Charlotte. As man and wife.’

  Pressing his his lips onto her fingers he gave her a smouldering look

  ‘Isn’t it a bit soon for that?’ asked Charlotte as panic sent her thumping.

  ‘It’s true we can’t have a flamboyant wedding during my mourning period but given Mama’s age, I don’t think many would condemn us for announcing our engagement at the start of September and then a quiet wedding a month later.

  Charlotte, are you unwell?’ he asked, giving her an anxious look.

  ‘No, not at all,’ she replied, taking her hand back and clasping it with the other on her lap to control its shaking.

  ‘Only you look a little pale,’ he persisted.

  ‘No, honestly I’m fine,’ she lied, as black spots appeared in her peripheral vision. ‘It’s just a bit sudden and perhaps we should wait and—’

  ‘Oh, my dear, sweet Charlotte,’ he cut in giving her an indulgent look. ‘Your trepidation at the thought of a wife’s marital duties is quite understandable for a young woman of your sensibilities. But never fear, I will be gentle in my husbandly demands.’

  ‘But, Captain Paget, I haven’t —’

  ‘Said yes?’ He laughed. ‘I know! Love-sick fool that I am, I haven’t actually done the whole get-down-on-one-knee business but, my sweetest love, as I already know your answer I thought to save my new trousers
from being soiled on the wet grass.’ He grabbed her hand again and kissed once more. ‘Oh, my darling Charlotte, I’m sure you’re as happy as I am that at last we can start our lives together.’

  He pressed his lips on her fingers again and stood up. ‘And now I must go and visit the undertakers, but I will see you on Sunday.’

  As she couldn’t trust herself not to scream, Charlotte forced a smile.

  ‘And…’ A hungry look crept across his face. ‘I’ll be counting the days until I can make you mine.’

  ***

  Josiah spotted Charlotte coming out of a house in Queen’s Street and turned towards Paradise Street. Downing the last mouthful of coffee, he returned his enamel mug to the street vendor and walked briskly down Croft Alley.

  The narrow cut-through between King Street and Queen’s Street had cobbled yards on either side where the market traders stored their barrows. As he passed down to catch up with Charlotte, Josiah had to dodge puddles of night soil that had been thrown out of the upper windows that morning and the usual collection of trampled vegetables and horse manure. Careful not to splash any of the gutter slurry up his clean trousers, Josiah picked his way towards King Street.

  His shift had finished an hour ago but as he knew that Charlotte would still be on her visits, he’d taken advantage of the company wash rooms and spruced himself up.

  Stretching his legs, Josiah reached the top of King Street and turned into Paradise Street long before Charlotte reached it. He feigned interest in the corner shop window display for a few seconds then she appeared around the corner. The street was busy with people making their way either to or from the market and many greeted Charlotte as she strolled along.

  As always, she was dressed simply in a sprig muslin gown, short summer jacket and straw bonnet. He hadn’t seen her since Sunday before last, and after a whole ten days without laying eyes on her, it was all he could do to stop himself striding over and taking her in his arms.

  Her gaze flickered up and she saw him. Relief flashed across her face for a brief instant before she turned to greet someone across the street.

  Keeping his attention on the display in the window he waited until she reached him and then he turned and doffed his hat.

  ‘Good afternoon, Miss Hatton,’ he said, loudly.

  ‘And to you, Mr Martyn,’ she replied, raising her voice so those passing by could hear. ‘Lovely afternoon, isn’t it? Are you out taking the air?’

  ‘I am indeed,’ he replied. ‘And I guess by the basket over your arm you are about parish business.’

  ‘I am and have just the last one up by the Seven Islands,’ she replied.

  ‘May I carry your basket for you, Miss Hatton?’

  ‘That would be most kind, Mr Martyn.’

  He stepped closer.

  ‘Thank goodness you’re here,’ she said under her breath, as he took it from her. ‘I’ve been past Church Street gates at least twice a day since Monday hoping you’d be in the yard.’

  ‘I’m sorry, we’ve had trouble with the shield and I’ve been trying to sort it out all week,’ he replied. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘It’s Nicolas,’ she said. ‘He’s... I hope I’m not taking you out of your way, Mr Martyn,’ she cut in, smiling at two women Josiah vaguely recognized from church as they crossed the road.

  ‘Not at all,’ Josiah replied, also raising his voice again.

  Keeping a respectable distance apart they strolled on towards the humpback bridge over the mill pond. The road was blocked by a wagon that had shed a wheel. A small herd of cattle, unconcerned by the delay, were munching away patiently at the grass verge while behind them the mail coach with its red-faced driver and irate passengers glared at the driver of the broken wagon as he and the wheelwright struggled to repair the damage. Those hoping to cross over the stream were either sitting on the fences or milestones or making their way towards Boziers Mill further down to cross.

  Josiah caught Charlotte’s elbow. ‘Let’s cut along Prospect Place.’

  She nodded. They turned away from the crowds and up the road that ran between the garden plots.

  After a few moments along the deserted path, Josiah took her hand and drew her into the hedgerow. ‘What’s happened?’

  She told him about her meeting in the garden two days before.

  ‘He wants to announce our engagement in September so we can be married in October,’ said Charlotte. ‘And my father has already agreed, so...’

  Josiah raised an eyebrow. ‘So there’s no chance of him now giving his consent to us marrying.’

  ‘No,’ said Charlotte, flatly.

  Reaching out, Josiah gathered her to him. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, truly I am,’ he said enjoying the sensation of her in his arms. ‘And I know it’s hard for you to marry against your father’s wishes, but it seems we will have to elope before rather than after Christmas. Say the end of September when my half-yearly share dividends are due and before the weather makes travelling more difficult?’

  Scraping the tip of his nose with her bonnet, she looked up. ‘That’s three and a half months.’

  ‘I know. I wish it could be sooner, but my half-yearly share dividends are due in October and I have enough to keep us until then. It won’t be what you’re used to, Charlotte,’ he said, his conscience at ripping her from a comfortable home tugging at him. ‘But I should have sufficient funds for a modest house until I find work and then—’

  She placed her index finger on his lips to stop his words and smiled. ‘Just tell me what you plan to do.’

  Chapter eighteen

  As the shallow draft wherry bobbed along on the incoming tide, Josiah drew his collar closer and blew on his hands. It had been warm enough when he walked the three miles to the monthly shareholder meeting in the city but now there was a decided chill in the air. Having been raised in the country, Josiah could detect the autumnal nip in the night air even though it was still early August.

  He should have been supervising the night shift but as Mr Brunel Senior was still half paralysed from the apoplexy fit he’d suffered a month before, he and Isambard were wresting with setting the shield upright; it was he who’d had to attend the monthly Thames Tunnel Company board meeting.

  Despite the sinking feeling that mention of the shareholder board meeting always engendered in Cow Yard, Josiah felt very pleased with himself because he’d given the grumpy bunch of old skinflints a run for their money. Thankfully, after three hours of quizzing, arguing and grumbling, the meeting ended and Josiah was free to make his way home. As the company was paying he’d caught a wherry by London Bridge to Rotherhithe Stairs so a brisk walk up past the shuttered shops in Princes Street and he would soon be home, if that’s how you could even describe the damp room in the attic.

  Jumping off the end of the shallow craft as it skimmed into Queen’s Stairs, Josiah took a deep breath, smelling saltiness from the incoming tide as he did.

  He glanced across the river to the twinkling lights of Wapping in the distance where in two years’ time, please God, the Thames tunnel would emerge, and all those complaining shareholders would at last be satisfied.

  Josiah turned and walked briskly along the deserted street as the last remnants of tobacco smoke and stuffy boardroom cleared from his mind.

  As he passed the large timber yard before the church and rounded the corner, a thin woman in a grubby yellow dress stepped into his path.

  ‘Looking for company, ’ansom?’ she asked, tugging at her neckline with a black-rimmed finger.

  ‘Certainly not.’

  Josiah tried to walk past but she grabbed his arm, the smell of unwashed body and cheap scent wafted up as she drew closer.

  ‘A fine gentleman like you would want a younger bit of flesh, I ’spect,’ she continued, grinning and showing an array of yellowing teeth.

  The old crone dragged a girl from the shadows and shoved her towards Josiah.

  She raised her head and Josiah gasped.

  ‘Eliza!’r />
  Dressed in a faded blue dress and with a threadbare shawl around her shoulders, the thin young mother stood shivering with her arms wrapped tight around herself.

  ‘Mr Martyn,’ she replied, struggling to hold his gaze.

  ‘As you’re an old customer, like, I’ll let ’er do you for five shilling instead of the usual seven.’

  He gave the procuress a hard look. ‘You can have a shilling and not a penny more.’

  The old woman spat on the floor.

  ‘You’ll only get a hand fumble for that.’ She grabbed Eliza by the chin. ‘Surely she’s worth three for the full treat?’

  Josiah reached into his inside pocket. ‘Here’s a florin and be on your way.’

  He flipped a sliver coin in the air and the old woman snatched it mid-air and stuffed it down the neck of her grubby bodice. Thrusting Eliza at him, she waddled off towards the docks.

  Josiah turned to the girl beside him and she smiled up at him.

  ‘If you’ve got sixpence there’s a room around the corner, otherwise we’ll—’

  ‘I didn’t pay the old woman for your company, Eliza. I paid so you can go home to your baby.’

  ‘I won’t see more than a shilling of what you gave her and I need at least four times that for the quack,’ Eliza told him.

  ‘The doctor?’

  ‘Billy’s sick, that’s why I’ve had to come out,’ she said, not meeting his eye. ‘I didn’t want to but I ain’t got no money for the doctor if I don’t.’

  ‘Have you been to the rectory?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘I’m sure if Miss Hatton knew—’

  ‘I can’t go to the rectory again because I heard from Polly the rag dealer, who heard it from the maid, that when I went two weeks ago the cook told the rector and he gave Miss Hatton such a ’ollering that she spent the night in her room crying.’

  ‘What about parish relief?’ he asked.

  She shook her head. ‘My mother left me in the poor house and if I have to turn tricks till I’m in my grave my Billy’s never going through those gates.’