Homecoming Girls (12 page)

Georgiana turned and smiled. ‘How well you know me.’

‘Of course.’ He reached out his hand, and she came towards him and clasped it and then sat next to him. ‘After so many years together I know when you’re happy and when you’re sad.’

He is the dearest man in the world, she thought. So sensitive
to my feelings. She gazed at him and saw how his hair was now more silver than brown, and the tiny wrinkles at the sides of his eyes, which showed whenever he laughed, which was often. He was ten years older than she, fifty-five to her forty-five. She had been sad that she hadn’t given him a child, but he had said tenderly on many occasions that they did not need a child to cement their love. And they had Jewel, whom they considered as their own.

‘And you are restless,’ she said. ‘I know that about you too. You’ve been very unsettled since Jewel went away.’

He had been so very edgy that they were no sooner home after seeing Jewel off on the ship than he had insisted that they travel to Amsterdam for a short holiday. It was cold and wet and they were both miserable and returned home to Hull within a few days. A week later he suggested that they go to the south coast and tour the area. But after some time there, he wanted to be home again in case there was news waiting. Which there was, telling them that both Jewel and Clara were having a wonderful time, catching up with everyone and renewing friendships.

‘I am restless, it’s true,’ he admitted. ‘When I travelled to America last year I realized how much I had been missing it; oh, I’m not saying that I didn’t miss England too, but that was because you were not with me on that occasion. But—’

‘England is not your homeland,’ she interrupted softly. ‘Your roots are over there.’

He nodded. ‘They are,’ he said, and smiled as he added, ‘But I have transplanted very well, and that is because of you and Jewel.’

‘And now, because Jewel has gone back to
her
homeland – for that is what it is, even though she perhaps doesn’t realize it yet – it has unsettled you again?’

He sighed and picked up the newspaper, which he had dropped to the floor. ‘It has. But I’ll get over it.’

Georgiana rose and crossed the room to ring the bell. ‘Would you like a brandy with your coffee, Wilhelm?’ she asked.

When he didn’t answer but kept his eyes glued to the newspaper, she said again, ‘Wilhelm! Brandy?’

He looked up, but his eyes were glazed and his lips parted. ‘What? Erm, yes. Georgiana—’

‘What is it? Are you unwell?’ She was concerned. He was never ill, but he looked decidedly pale and he had put his hand to his face as if in some distress. ‘Wilhelm. Tell me!’

He closed his eyes for a second. ‘There’s news,’ he said huskily. ‘Of a fire. In Yeller Valley. It says that the town is completely destroyed.’

Georgiana sank down beside him. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘When? When did it happen?’

He shook his head. ‘It doesn’t give a date. It says last week. My God! What if they’ve been caught up in it?’

Georgiana’s mouth was dry. ‘But – they’re in Dreumel. Staying at the Marius.’ She put her hands to her mouth. ‘Kitty and Caitlin! The girls might have decided to stay with them. What shall we do?
Wilhelm!
What shall we do?’

He got to his feet. ‘I’m thinking. I’m thinking! We mustn’t panic. We must assume that everything is all right.’

He was interrupted by the maid knocking on the door.

‘Coffee, Annie, please,’ Georgiana said, and Wilhelm added, ‘And please bring my outdoor coat.’

‘Where are you going?’ Georgiana asked. ‘To see Martin and Grace? I’ll come too.’

‘No. No. I’m going to send a cable.’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘But to where? They’ll not get it at Dreumel’s Creek. New York! The Marius. Brady will know what’s happening and he can send an overland telegraph to Crawford in Dreumel. Or Philadelphia!’ He was scratching around for ideas. ‘The news office will know.’

Wilhelm still owned the
Star
newspaper in Philadelphia and they had telegraph connection there. Why hadn’t they been in touch? They knew of his involvement with Dreumel’s Creek and Yeller Valley. Great heavens, they’d announced the finding of gold all those years back. He’d even agreed to
an interview, a feature article. Against his better judgement, it had to be said. He wasn’t a man to court publicity for himself.

‘Will you get through tonight?’ She was buoyed up with tension. Sick with fear.

‘What time is it? Seven o’clock,’ he answered himself and chewed on his lip as he ruminated. ‘The Hull Exchange will probably be closed. Perhaps I could catch a train to London and send a cable from there. It might be quicker. London’s the hub of communication.’

That’s what he had done the previous year during the American financial crisis when he couldn’t get through from the Hull telegraph office. Then he had written a hasty letter to Georgiana and caught the next ship to New York.

‘Wait, wait!’ she beseeched him. ‘We must first go to tell Martin and Grace. Martin might know of someone who could arrange for us to telegraph from Hull.’

Wilhelm sat down again and put his head in his hands. ‘Yes. Sorry. You’re right. He knows many people in authority.’

They cancelled the coffee and the maid brought their outdoor coats and hats and they set off immediately towards town, walking briskly even though each realized that no matter how they hurried they could not influence what was happening thousands of miles away.

They were shown straight into the Newmarches’ cosy sitting room. Grace had sewing in her lap and Martin had a leather briefcase on the floor beside him and a sheaf of papers in his hand. They both rose as Georgiana and Wilhelm were shown in.

‘No, please. Don’t get up,’ Wilhelm said. They were old friends and had no need to stand on ceremony. ‘May we sit down? We’ve things to discuss.’

Grace moved up on the sofa to make room for Georgiana and said anxiously, ‘Something’s happened! What is it? Not the girls?’

‘What?’ Martin’s forehead creased and he put down his reading material. ‘What have you heard? We received a letter
from Clara only the other day. Everything was all right then.’ He glanced at Grace, who nodded.

‘We might be worrying unnecessarily . . .’ Wilhelm began.

Georgiana interrupted him. ‘We are, I’m sure, but nevertheless—’ She took a deep breath and fisted her hand, putting it to her mouth.

Wilhelm handed the newspaper to Martin with the short passage about the fire in Yeller facing towards him. ‘It’s this morning’s newspaper,’ he said, ‘but I didn’t read it until this evening. We came straight away.’

Martin read it and then handed it to Grace. ‘There was nothing about this in the
Manchester Guardian,’
he said, glancing at Grace, whose lips were moving silently as she read the piece.

‘How far is Yeller from Dreumel’s Creek?’ she asked quietly, when she had finished.

‘Boundary to boundary, about two miles,’ Wilhelm said. ‘The road to Yeller is through the mountain.’

‘But it’s not the proximity that worries us.’ Georgiana’s voice trembled. She felt faint with worry, but tried not to let it show. ‘It’s whether or not Jewel and Clara were staying with Kitty and her family; their hotel is in Yeller.’

Martin got up from his chair and began to walk about. ‘Would they do that? I understood that they were staying at the Marius in Dreumel.’

‘That’s where Clara’s last letter came from,’ Grace interjected. ‘She was telling us about her room, which overlooked the creek.’

‘We’re probably being foolish and needn’t be concerned,’ Georgiana said.

‘Of course we’re not being foolish,’ Grace said softly. ‘And you’ll be anxious about your friends as well as Jewel and Clara.’ She huffed out a breath. ‘Anything could have happened, and ’chances are that nothing has. But still . . .’ Her voice trailed away and Georgiana clasped her hand.

‘We need to send a cable,’ Wilhelm said. ‘But the Exchange will be closed.’

‘There’ll be someone on duty.’ Martin galvanized himself into action and headed for the door. ‘I’ll get my coat.’

Georgiana and Grace sat waiting. Grace ordered tea for them both and they made small talk. Grace asked how it was possible that a fire could break out and devastate a whole town.

‘The gold-rush towns are nothing like the towns we have in England,’ Georgiana told her. ‘Even nowadays some of them still look like shanty towns, with their boardwalks and mud roads, and of course the buildings are made of timber. Then with the dry summers . . .’ She shrugged. ‘From what I recall of Yeller I don’t know if they even had a fire company.’

‘Incredible!’ Grace murmured. ‘And yet there are such fine cities too, like New York and Philadelphia.’

Georgiana nodded. ‘But it’s not that long since those cities and others like them were built. It’s not like England with our ancient historic buildings. When I first went to New York – oh, when, twenty-five years ago – the city was still being built. Central Park was being laid out.’ She smiled. ‘I remember Kitty being appalled to see pigs snuffling about in the streets and poor people sitting on street corners. I think she felt that nothing had changed.

‘And in some ways, nothing has,’ she added. ‘Wilhelm said on his return last year that there were even more people begging on the streets following the financial crash.’

‘The poor are always with us,’ Grace murmured. ‘That I know.’

An hour later the two men returned. Martin poured Wilhelm a brandy and then one for himself, before apologizing to the ladies and asking if they would like a glass of sherry. They both refused and waited expectantly for news.

‘We’ve cabled New York and Philadelphia,’ Martin said. ‘We should hear something soon.’

‘Perhaps!’ Wilhelm said. He didn’t have Martin’s confidence. He turned to Georgiana and Grace. ‘We’ve left urgent messages at the
Star
office and the Marius in New York for them to
contact us immediately they have any news. We’ll go back in an hour.’

But the only news waiting for them when they went back was from the New York Marius to tell them that an overland telegraph had been sent to the Dreumel Creek hotel and that they were awaiting a response. There was nothing from the Philadelphia newspaper.

As they walked back from the Newmarches’ High Street home to their own, Wilhelm remarked, ‘If there’s no news in the morning I shall catch a train to London.’

‘Oh, Wilhelm—’ Georgiana began.

‘No!’ He shook his head vehemently. ‘I insist. You know I can’t abide inactivity. There are several telegraph companies that I can use to send to New York or Philadelphia, or even Boston or Buffalo. Good heavens, I can send a cable via Ireland and Newfoundland if necessary. But it’s easier to send from London.’

Georgiana sighed. She found it incredible, not being as up to the mark in technology as Wilhelm was, but she knew that the underground cable which for over ten years had successfully linked Europe and America had thrilled Wilhelm immensely. He had even told her that before very long they would be able to speak to people in other towns or cities, or even other countries, by electronic machine. That, she thought, she would believe when she heard it.

They held each other close that night, each murmuring reassurances that all would be well and that Jewel and Clara would be safe, that they were worrying unnecessarily. But there was no news the next day, and after waiting until midday Wilhelm and Martin were told that the connection to London had failed.

‘That’s it then,’ Wilhelm muttered. ‘I’ll go to London and find out what’s happening. I’ll let you know immediately.’ He saw Martin’s expression change and knew he was going to say he would accompany him. ‘There’s no reason for us both to go,’ he said swiftly. ‘I’m sure everything is all right, but if it is not I shall take the first ship out.’ He looked steadily
at his friend. ‘I feel that Jewel and Clara will have already left Dreumel and set off for California, but I am extremely worried about my friends in Yeller. And,’ he added, ‘if I can help the townspeople in any way, then I will.’

Martin nodded. ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘You helped found the town, I know.’

‘I did,’ Wilhelm said quietly. ‘It took blood, sweat and many tears. Lives were lost, and being with them now is the least I can do.’

He knew that Georgiana would appreciate the reason why he should travel to London; he also knew that if she suspected that he meant to travel out to America, she would want to go with him. Normally he would agree that she should, but there would be arrangements to be made before they could both depart – servants to be advised and people to be informed – and, as he had the previous year, he felt that immediate action was the essential key.

Jewel and Clara went up to their rooms. There was nothing they could do or say about the missing couple, but only hope that they were safe. But it was very worrying, they both agreed.

‘Should we delay our plans for travelling, do you think, Clara?’ Jewel asked. They were both sitting on Clara’s bed. ‘I feel that perhaps we should stay, or on the other hand would we be a nuisance if we did so?’

‘I’m sure we probably can help,’ Clara said. ‘But will our rooms be needed?’ She shook her head wearily. ‘I’m too tired to even think about it.’

‘Yes.’ Jewel sighed and got up to go to her own room. ‘Let’s discuss it in the morning.’