Wendy Soliman (6 page)

“I wish you would.”

Felix sat alone in the drawing room after luncheon. He’d not been at Riverside House for a whole day yet, but already he was starting to have doubts about Mrs. Eden’s involvement with her father. There were so many things which didn’t make sense. Her clothes, for instance: he couldn’t think of any reason why a lady would dress so badly through choice. Even if she was keeping up a pretence of having nothing to do with her father, surely she could still clothe herself more appropriately without exciting comment?

Then there was the state of the gardens, which he’d so recently witnessed at first hand. He’d seen no sign of any gardeners or, come to that, any male staff at all other than the ancient butler. There didn’t appear to be any footmen, boot boys, and the like. There was Mrs. Graham, the cook whom the twins had mentioned, who was married to the butler. Apparently they’d been at Riverside House for more than forty years. Apart from that, Felix had seen only the rather slow-looking girl who had helped to serve dinner the evening before, and a slightly brighter one who’d performed the same service at luncheon today.

This was not a large house, by Felix’s standards; still, it must require a vast number of staff — certainly more than he’d observed — to maintain it. Reviewing the layout, Felix knew that apart from the best room, which he occupied on the first floor, Mrs. Rivers had two rooms for her private use on one side of him, and Mr. and Mrs. Jennings occupied the large room on his left. Fothergill had a room of his own at own end of the corridor, which interlinked with the schoolroom, and Miss Willoughby and Captain Fanshaw had the only remaining rooms on that floor.

The twins slept on the top floor, as must the servants. But what of Mrs. Eden? Surely she wasn’t relegated to the top floor as well? If she was acting purely as her father’s go-between, why endure such deprivation? Twice that day he’d come upon her carrying out menial tasks. Just as when he’d found her wheeling the tea trolley the previous evening, she became flustered, insisting upon offering him explanations for her actions.

Felix was trying to make sense of it all when the door burst open in a manner which he was already starting to recognize. The twins were upon him in seconds, claiming that the French had gone well and that Mr. Fothergill had been very surprised. But they were uncharacteristically subdued and would say nothing more on the matter.

“Well,” Felix said, rising from his chair. “I’m off to the bay to do a little fishing. I met a man in Burton Bradstock, today, who has arranged to meet me there and supply me with tackle.”

“Oh, that will be Mr. Evans — ”

“He persuades everyone who’s new here to fish our river — ”

“The River Bride, it’s called,” offered Josh helpfully.

“Indeed, so I understand. Do you like to fish, twins?”

“Mama doesn’t allow it.”

“What does Mama not allow?”

Felix looked up, unaware that Mrs. Eden had joined them, wondering how long she’d been standing there and what she’d overheard.

“For us to go fishing.”

“It’s dangerous for children on their own, Josh, as you’re well aware.”

“But if we went with Mr. Beaumont — ”

“He would look after us.”

“Has Mr. Beaumont invited you to join him?”

“Well, no, but — ”

“But I was about to, with your permission, Mrs. Eden.” Felix offered a mildly expectant and perfectly courteous expression for her examination.

“Well, I’m not sure it would be wise to — ”

“Oh, Mama, please!” Naturally this was said in unison.

“You may rest assured that I’ll take the best of care of them and would welcome their company.” Felix replaced his courteous expression with a disarming smile.

“Well, all right, then. But you are to do whatever Mr. Beaumont asks of you without question, children, and are not to be any trouble. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mama!” But they were already leaping around, narrowly managing to avoid tripping over Hoskins who was dashing about in tight circles, chasing his tail and generally adding to the mayhem.

Two hours later Felix carried a sound-asleep Amy through the doors of Riverside House. Josh was at his side, valiantly attempting to conceal his yawns. Mrs. Eden had clearly been watching for their return, and came rushing up to them, her face ashen.

“What’s happened? What’s wrong with her? Is she harmed?”

“Calm yourself, Mrs. Eden. She’s merely asleep. Too much excitement and fresh air, I fear.” Felix indicated the yawning Josh with his eyes, causing his mother to expel an audible sigh of relief.

“Well, at least I won’t have the usual struggle to get them to bed tonight. Thank you, Mr. Beaumont, I can take her now.”

“I wouldn’t hear of it. You might wake her. I’ll carry her up for you.”

“I can manage.”

“I dare say, but not as easily as I can.”

Giving her no time to demure, Felix carried Amy up to the first floor and, at receiving a nod from Mrs. Eden, continued on to the second. Saskia opened the door to the twins’ room, and Felix laid Amy on her bed.

“Girls aren’t as strong as us men, are they, Mr. Beaumont?” Josh sank onto his own bed with an exhausted sigh, causing Mrs. Eden and Felix to share the first amused smile of their acquaintanceship.

“You must always take care of your sister, Josh,” Felix said.

“Of course, sir.”

“Have you thanked Mr. Beaumont for his kindness, Josh?”

“Yes, Mama. And we caught lots of fish, but Mr. Beaumont said we had to throw them back because they were too small to eat. Amy didn’t want to put the worms on the hook but girls don’t like doing that either, do they, Mr. Beaumont?”

Leaving Josh chattering away to no one in particular, Felix moved towards the door and whispered to in Mrs. Eden’s ear. “Ask Josh what happened to his knuckles,” he said.

The twins had remained subdued for much of the afternoon, and Felix realized, after a while, why that must be: Josh had angry red marks across the back of his knuckles. Felix and Luc had received a ruler across their own hands during their school days far too often for him not to recognize the signs…but this attack upon Josh had been particularly vicious.

It was not Felix’s business, of course, and he knew he shouldn’t permit himself to be distracted from his purpose, but it was already too late for that. He’d developed a special rapport with these delightful children, and suspected that if Mrs. Eden wasn’t capable of upbraiding Fothergill for his drink-fuelled brutality against a helpless six-year-old, then he’d feel compelled to do so in her stead.

But Felix soon discovered that he need not have doubted her mettle when it came to protecting her children. He was leaving his room that evening, on the way to dinner, when he heard raised voices coming from the schoolroom. Naturally he stopped to listen.

“Calm yourself, Mrs. Eden, and allow me to worry about the children’s discipline in the schoolroom,” Felix heard Fothergill saying, his oily voice oozing manly condensation.

“Mr. Fothergill, I wish to know precisely what it is that my son did to cause you to beat him so viciously.”

“He was rude about his French verbs,” Fothergill said shortly.

“In what way? Had he not studied?”

“He was word perfect.” Fothergill made this concession with obvious reluctance.

“Then I don’t understand the problem.”

“The problem, my dear lady, is that the twins were making fun of learning, and I regret to inform you that your new guest was entirely responsible for this lassitude.”

“In what respect?”

“My dear, he taught them to conjugate a verb by making up ridiculous rhymes. They thought it was fun.”

A penetrating silence greeted this statement, but when Saskia spoke again Felix could have sworn that she was attempting to keep the amusement out of her voice. “Let me see if I understand you, Mr. Fothergill? Mr. Beaumont was good enough to assist the twins with work that I consider to be far too advanced for them — but, then, you’re already aware of my views on that subject. Mr. Beaumont managed to help them to learn their verb, and to enjoy doing so, yet you considered this to be a reason to violently punish my son.” Her voice had risen again, resonating with undiminished anger. “If that’s how you reward good conduct, Mr. Fothergill, I dread to think what could be in store for my children if they fail to learn their lessons.”

“But, Saskia, my dear, he undermined my authority, and must be taught to respect his elders and betters.”

Felix grunted aloud, unable to believe that even Fothergill could be so pompous.

“It’s ‘Mrs. Eden’ to you, sir.” Felix could easily imagine her breathing deeply as she attempted to keep her temper under control. When she continued, her words were punctuated with firm determination. “Now, Mr. Fothergill, let us understand one another right well: you will never again, I repeat never, strike either of my children without my expressed permission. If I find that you’ve done so, then you will leave this house immediately. Immediately, sir! This is your last warning, Mr. Fothergill. I trust we understand one another.”

“My dear, you don’t understand these things.” Fothergill was back to his most patronising best. “You can’t run this house and expect to keep control of the children as well. You must allow me, at least, to shoulder that burden in your stead. You know that I am exceptionally well-qualified as a teacher, and you really must permit me to know what is best for them. I would, as I’ve told you on any number of occasions, happily shoulder all of your burdens, and remain faithfully at your side as your consort.”

Felix, still eavesdropping shamelessly, had to clench his fists and dig his fingernails into his palms to force himself not to intervene. But it appeared that Mrs. Eden had no need of his assistance, and Felix smiled as she carelessly dismissed his presumptuous proposal.

“Mr. Fothergill, you forget yourself.”

Felix silently applauded her handling of the situation, but suspected Fothergill thought too well of himself to detect the disdainful contempt beneath her words.

“Your father would be so distressed to see you reduced to dealing with such matters as your son’s discipline on your own,” Fothergill said. “Only a man can be expected to undertake such a task.”

A further deathly silence ensued. Felix held his breath. It seemed that he was about to discover the true nature of Fothergill’s residence in this house, and his relationship with Barker’s daughter, rather sooner than he could reasonably have expected to be the case.

“What do you know of my father?” she asked quietly.

“Only that you had some kind of stupid quarrel and are too proud to apologise. But I’m sure he would welcome you and your children back, if only you would admit that you were wrong, and behave in future as a dutiful daughter ought. Everyone around these parts knows what a good and forgiving gentleman Mr. Samuel Barker is.”

Mrs. Eden, in command of herself once more, sounded imperiously detached; Felix could only imagine the haughty tilt of her chin and the anger blazing in those remarkable eyes of hers. “My relationship with my family is not your concern. The education of my children, however, is.” She paused, before issuing her next warning in a frosty tone. “At least for the time being. I give you due notice, however, Mr. Fothergill, and you would do well to heed my words: one more example of the cruelty you exhibited today and you will be out of this house before the end of the day. I trust you understand me, sir?”

The door flew open, but Felix hardly needed to conceal himself. She swept out, her eyes glinting with a mixture of suppressed fury and unshed tears, and marched away from Fothergill’s room, looking neither left nor right.

M
RS.
E
DEN
D
IDN’T
A
PPEAR
in the drawing room until shortly before dinner was announced. Composed, with no sign of the tears that had been so close when she left the school room, she apologised for her tardiness but offered no explanation for it. A short time later she paused beside Felix and thanked him in an undertone for pointing out Josh’s injury.

“I’m relieved that he confided in you,” she said. “Sometimes, it’s so hard to know…”

It was the closest she’d come to speaking to him of personal matters. Appearing to realise it, she blushed and abruptly stopped whatever she’d been about to say.

“He didn’t exactly confide,” Felix said, keen to prolong their interaction.

“Then how did you know?”

“The twins were subdued this afternoon. When I noticed Josh’s hand I realized how he must have sustained the injury.” Felix offered her a puerile grin. “I received a ruler across my knuckles during my school days often enough to recognize the signs. But not,” he added, scowling, “when I was six years old, and certainly not anything like as severely.”

“Indeed, sir, we are of one mind on the matter, but I’ve dealt with it and am confident that it won’t recur.”

“I’m relieved to hear you say so.”

“I understand, Mr. Beaumont, that I also have you to thank for assisting the twins with their French verbs.”

He smiled at her, his most intimately engaging smile, willing her to lower her guard and offer some sort of response. “Not at all. I enjoy conjugating verbs,” he said in a velvety smooth purr.

This time she returned his smile and held his gaze for a second or two, before moving away and conversing with others. Her manner was less reserved than the previous day, but there was still a cautiousness about her which discouraged intimacy. He observed her as she moved about the room, putting her guests at their ease with her gracious manners. She was wearing a lavender-coloured muslin gown that was ill-fitting and dated, but that was insufficient to prevent Felix’s mind from dwelling upon the body beneath the garment, which it made such poor work of disguising.

Damn it, this wouldn’t do!
He was here to prove the woman’s culpability in her father’s illegal activities, not to entertain lascivious thoughts about her or demonstrate his protective instincts regarding her children. Disciplining himself to behave, Felix turned with a charming smile to Mrs. Rivers and entered into conversation with her.

Felix anticipated that Fothergill’s manner would be truculent following the events of the afternoon, and that he would place the blame for his disagreement with his employer squarely at his door. The fact that his behaviour was completely the opposite, his manner veering toward obeisance, supplied all the proof that Felix required to confirm his suspicions. There could no longer be any question that Fothergill was in the pay of Barker and placed in this house to act as his spy.

When the ladies withdrew and the port was circulating, Fothergill held court, much as he had the previous evening. Tonight, however, he spent an inordinate amount of time stressing the need for a permanent masculine presence in Riverside House.

“I don’t see how two genteel ladies can be expected to run such an establishment unaided.”

“Quite unsuitable occupation for ladies,” agreed Jennings, nodding vigorously. “Just as well you’re here permanently to keep an eye on things, Fothergill.”

“Well, yes, it’s true that they rely upon me to an inordinate degree, and naturally, I’m more than willing to lend any assistance within my power, but should I decide to take another position in a school — ”

“You’re considering another position?” Felix asked languidly.

“Indeed. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that I’m in great demand. Experienced school-masters are in short supply nowadays.”

“Then why stay here teaching two small children?” Felix leaned back in his chair, not believing for one moment that Fothergill had prospective employers beating a path to his door. He was curious to see how he’d behave when someone didn’t hang on his every word. “There must be far greater cerebral satisfaction in teaching larger numbers, to say nothing of the financial rewards.”

“You’re in the right of it, but I’m nothing, if not a compassionate man. And how would Mrs. Rivers, and Mrs. Eden in particular, manage without me?”

“How, indeed?” countered Felix with an ironic twist of his lips.

“Those twins of hers are permitted to run almost wild, and had no idea how to behave. Were it not for me, I dread to think how they would turn out. Really, Mrs. Eden is far too tender-hearted for her own good.”

Captain Fanshaw and Mr. Jennings nodded vigorously in agreement with him, the latter mumbling something about children being seen and not heard.

Fothergill eventually came to an end of his self-serving monologue and turned to Felix, asking detailed and very pointed questions as to his reason for being in Swyre. Satisfied that Fothergill was acting upon instructions passed to him at the Swyre Inn before luncheon, he gave tantalising descriptions of the wealthy clients for whom he was commissioned to purchase certain items. Items which he’d been given to understand were available in the vicinity of Burton Bradstock, provided one knew where to look.

There were no melodic Bach sonatas in the drawing room that evening. Instead, Mrs. Eden poured her heart into a Beethoven concerto, hammering out the chords with fury and passion. Her performance, if anything, exceeded that of the previous evening. Her fingers danced across the keyboard, interpreting the composer’s work with a fervour that suggested there was still a well of anger to be expunged in the wake of Fothergill’s harsh treatment of her son.

To Felix, she was a compelling mixture of pride and insecurity; determination and vulnerability; tough resourcefulness and beguiling femininity. She’d attracted his interest with her fiercely independent spirit, and he was now determined to get to the bottom of her secrets, but for very different reasons to those that had originally occasioned his visit to Riverside House.

When the evening came to an end, Felix again occupied the window-seat in his chamber, musing upon the progress he’d made that day. There were three things which he now definitely knew about Saskia Eden: she had no contact with her father because of some sort of disagreement, she was not in league with him in any way, and she was almost certainly deeply afraid of him.

Fothergill, on the other hand, was definitely in Barker’s employ. His singularly shabby attire alone lent proof to his impecunious state. This fact, added to the other compelling evidence he’d collated, reinforced that conclusion. Could that be why Fothergill was so confident about his own expectations and so carelessly disregarded Mrs. Eden’s attempts to determine the direction of her children’s education? Was the twins’ grandfather controlling their destiny from a distance? This notion deeply unsettled Felix, and he fervently hoped that he’d got it wrong.

As far as he’d been able to ascertain, Fothergill was a school master of decidedly mediocre ability, his offers of positions in other quality schools almost certainly wishful thinking on his part. Greedy and ambitious, and having failed in his chosen profession, he wasn’t above taking money from a man who’d doubtless persuaded him that his only concern was for the welfare of his daughter and grandchildren.

Felix shuddered, turning his mind to other matters pertinent to Riverside House. There was still much that he didn’t comprehend. If Mrs. Rivers had lived comfortably before her niece’s arrival then she must have an income of sorts, since her husband would have provided for her financially. So why the need to take in lodgers, and why did that necessity arise only after Mrs. Eden’s removal to the house? More to the point, why did Mrs. Eden herself need to work so hard?

Felix needed to find out more. His intention to get to Barker through his daughter was now looking increasingly unlikely to succeed. It might be necessary to consult with his father before deciding upon his next step. First, though, he intended to get to the bottom of things here at Riverside House. He’d noticed today that Mr. & Mrs. Jenkins went driving for the entire morning, and only returned for luncheon. He understood that it was their custom to spend all of their mornings thus occupied. Fothergill, of course, was in the schoolroom, Captain Fanshaw spent every morning out of the house, researching his almanac, and Miss Willoughby was inclined to sit with Mrs. Rivers in her private apartment, drinking tea and gossiping about the old days. With the whole household occupied in various ways, the mornings would obviously be the best time to make a private exploration of Riverside House.

The next day, Perkins, with a rakish smirk, assured his master that he was making satisfactory progress — with his barmaid at least as rapidly as with his other contacts. Felix had little difficulty in believing that part of Perkins’s assertion. He returned to Riverside House, still smiling at his irrepressible valet’s cavalier approach to life.

Felix entered the house as unobtrusively as possible. As he’d expected, no one was about. He slipped undetected up the stairs, his first destination being the top floor. Just as a matter of curiosity he wanted to see where Mrs. Eden slept.

He entered the room next to the twins and let out an astonished oath. It was little more than a cell: a space for the lowliest servant to occupy. There was a small trestle bed, an armoire, one chair, and no room for anything else. All was neat and tidy, and just for a moment, Felix was able to convince himself that it was the domain of the housemaid. Then he noticed the gown Mrs. Eden had worn the previous evening flung across the back of the chair, and the truth struck home.

But it made no sense at all. It was obvious that Mrs. Rivers held her niece in high regard, so why was she forced to live in such deprivation? What could have happened between her and her father that she would prefer this kind of life to the comparative luxury of his residence?

From the tiny window, Felix looked down at the kitchen garden, mulling the question over in his mind. Preoccupied as he was, it took a moment for him to register the scene below. A line full of washing had fallen onto the muddy ground and would need to be redone. An untidy pile of logs lay unsplit beside the block outside an almost empty log shed. A long line of empty pails stood beside the pump, waiting to be filled. It appeared that a whole row of lettuces had been roughly half-pulled out of the ground by someone or something, and left where they were to rot.

Amidst all this disarray, Saskia Eden sat on the ground, head in her hands, weeping in despair.

Saskia sat up and blew her nose. Discovering the ruined washing had pushed her beyond despair, and she’d had a long overdue cry about lost opportunities. Feeling better now, her resolve strengthened. She squared her shoulders and used a few most unladylike words. She wouldn’t be beaten, she simply would not! Somehow she’d find a way to survive these daily crises and hold onto Riverside House, if it was the last thing she ever did.

If only that damned boy from the village had turned up today to cut the logs and tidy the garden. Saskia herself could turn her hand to most tasks, but even she couldn’t chop logs; that was definitely men’s work.

Still, the washing had to be redone. She’d take advantage of the weak afternoon sun and hang it out again later, making sure the rope was properly secured this time. Then she’d see what wood she could gather from the rapidly dwindling pile for this evening’s fires. At least the weather was co-operating; it had remained mild, and they’d be able to get away with smaller blazes.

When the laundry had been redone, Saskia stepped through the scullery door, washing basket under her arm, and stopped dead in her tracks. A man had his back to her, and was swinging the axe through the air as easily as if it was made of matchwood, slicing the logs cleanly in two as he made contact with them. The man was tall, naked to the waist, and in possession of an abundance of thick curly brown hair which he’d clubbed back with a kerchief. There was a shimmer of perspiration on his torso, and the muscles in his arms and back rippled in time with his seemingly effortless labours.

She found herself rooted to the spot in rapt fascination, unable to move. Her legs refused to co-operate with the commands issued from her brain. She absently moistened her lips with her tongue, and had difficulty drawing breath as her stomach lurched in a most peculiar manner. It took a moment for her to realise that the twins were there, too. They were stacking kindling a safe distance away from the flying splinters of wood, Hoskins charging about in crazy circles with a stick in his mouth, wagging his stumpy tail and generally getting in the way. The children noticed her and shouted a greeting.

“Mr. Beaumont is cutting the logs, Mama — ”

“He’s done loads — ”

“And we’re helping — ”

“Look how much we’ve done already.”

Mr. Beaumont turned to look at her, and Saskia heartily wished that he hadn’t done so. If she’d found the prospect of his naked back disconcerting, it was nothing to the sight of his broad chest covered with wiry brown hair and, God help her, strong thighs so tightly encased that his breeches looked like a second skin, leaving precious little to the imagination.