Stay with Me (36 page)

‘And I am glad to have shared these moments with you.'

Later, alone in her bedroom, Avril thought of those words, those moments, and wished they had been more intimate. But Alistair did not appear to want to take a step closer. Did he still yearn for Lena? Maybe her own constant quiet presence would . . . But how long would that go on? How long would it take James to recover or would he . . . Avril shuddered; she should not even entertain such a thought. Whatever happened between them, some day she would have to return to Dundee.

Two weeks later James's condition suddenly worsened.

The reluctant way Dr Jollif straightened up from the bed told Alistair what he didn't want to hear. Colour drained from his face as he watched his partner shake his head slowly and silently mouth the words, ‘I'm sorry.'

Alistair, his thoughts in confusion, walked slowly from the room. His steps were heavy as he took each stair, crossed the hall and entered the drawing-room.

‘No!' The word was torn out of Olivia. ‘No! No!'

 

The day was sunny with only a few wisps of cloud drifting lazily across a blue sky, a perfect day for Lena to enjoy her walk around the docks to meet the
Maid Marian,
due in from Whitby. It was an expedition that always set her pulses racing and never more so than today.

Their new ship would soon be launched, and only yesterday she had pleased Peter with her suggestion that they name her the
William Hustwick.

‘Father would have been delighted. In the short time he knew you, I know he came to like you. It would have delighted him that you commemorated him this way.' Peter had taken his wife into his arms to express his love for her.

Yes, life is good, Lena thought now.

‘Good day, Captain Washbrook,' she greeted the Whitby man pleasantly.

‘Good day to you, ma'am.' He saluted her but she saw that his usual smile was absent. He handed the newspaper over. ‘I'm afraid I have some bad news for you, ma'am. Mr James Carnforth died last Wednesday.'

Lena was stunned. For a moment she did not seem to comprehend the news. James, dead? But he was still so young.

‘I'm so sorry.'

‘What happened?' she asked hoarsely.

‘He was knocked down by a runaway horse and trap some weeks ago.'

‘Weeks ago? I was never informed! Nor of his death, a week ago tomorrow.'

The captain knew of the scandal that had rocked Whitby society and caused the rift between brother and sister, but was not prepared to comment. ‘For some reason the family wanted to keep it quiet. Apparently his injuries were serious but were not made known at the time nor in the succeeding weeks. I heard they resulted in a coma from which he never regained consciousness. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, ma'am.'

She nodded. ‘Thank you, Captain Washbrook, I am grateful to you. Do you know when the funeral is?'

‘The day after tomorrow, ma'am.'

She nodded and appeared to sway. He was by her side in a flash, seeing she had lost colour. ‘Ma'am, are you all right?'

Lena stiffened and pulled herself together. ‘Yes, thank you.'

‘Would you like me to escort you home?'

She shook her head. ‘No. I'll be all right.' She started off slowly but with a more assured step.

He watched her for a few moments and then started up the gangway. From the deck he looked in her direction. She was walking a little more quickly now. Captain Washbrook turned to his crew and began to supervise the unloading of his cargo.

Lena's thoughts were in a daze as she tried to take in the news. Why hadn't anyone informed her that her brother had been badly hurt? Even as she posed the question she realised the answer and it made her feel even more of an outsider, not wanted anywhere near the circle in which she had once moved. The business? What would happen to it now? Olivia couldn't run it; Alistair had no interest in it, selling it must be the only solution for them . . . and that would mean it would be lost to the only true Carnforth! Lena couldn't let that happen; she couldn't allow the family business to fall into the hands of strangers. She was determined that one day it would be hers, and had been building up Hustwick's to a position from which she could challenge James and oust him from control of Carnforth's. Now the chance to acquire it had come, in a way she had never visualised. She must seize it. But Hustwick's capital had been stretched by acquiring the new ship. She knew Peter would not condone the idea of borrowing to buy Carnforth's, a major decision on which, by the terms of the Articles of Association they had signed, they both must agree.

Thank goodness Captain Washbrook had arrived in Hull when he had, otherwise she would have heard the news too late for her to reach Whitby for the funeral. After that, Lena reckoned Olivia would dispose of her business asset. Lena
must
be there.

Reaching the offices, she went to find Peter. He realised from his wife's pale and worried face that something was wrong and was instantly out from behind his desk and beside her as she sat down wearily.

‘What's the matter?' he asked her.

‘Captain Washbrook has just told me that James died last week.'

‘What?' Peter felt a shiver of disbelief run through him, but he knew there was no reason to doubt the veracity of what she'd said. He sank to his knees and took her hands in his, wondering how she would be affected by this news. ‘What was wrong?'

Lena quickly told him what she knew.‘I must go to the funeral,' she added.

‘Hasn't it taken place yet?'

‘No. Captain Washbrook told me it's the day after tomorrow.'

‘That's a long while after . . .'

‘They'll be following the old conventions. The timing has worked well for me, at least. I'll be able to go.'

Peter was momentarily confused. James was her step-brother; he and others close to him had slighted her. Why should Lena walk into a situation where she might be shunned or ostracised further? ‘Do you think it wise to go?' he asked gently.

‘Why not?' Lena replied with a touch of defiance. ‘James and I shared much of our lives. And, apart from that, I think I should be there, for Mother's and Father's sakes.'

‘Then I'll come with you.'

She pressed his hand and, with a wan smile, said, ‘I think that would be most unwise. You look after things here, but hire me a coach and coachman to drive me to Whitby. It will be the quickest and easiest way. I'll stay at the Angel. Expect me back when you see me. Who knows what will happen when I'm there?'

Arriving in Whitby next day, she took a room at the Angel and asked the landlord to arrange accommodation for her coachman. Recognising her, and approving of the black dress with its close-fitting bodice and jet ornamentation, he told his wife to show the lady to the best accommodation in the inn. Lena wore a simple bonnet but one item of her three-part luggage was a hat-box, which the landlord's wife judged would contain a smarter veiled hat for the funeral.

She was right; Lena was wearing it at eleven o'clock the next morning when she left the Angel, having decided that she would join the family mourners at the house in New Buildings before the service and interment in the churchyard high on the East Cliff. That was to take place at twelve o'clock. The coachman had been told to hire a trap to take her to the house that had once been her home, and to wait there until she wanted to go to the church.

Lena stepped from the trap and paused to view the front of the house that still belonged to her. Memories of a happy childhood spent there flooded back, bringing a lump to her throat. She tightened her lips and drew her shoulders back. She did not know what reception she would receive but was determined to show no weakness. No one would know she was outside - the curtains and blinds were all drawn. She walked resolutely along the path and up the steps to the front door, where she tugged the iron bell-pull firmly.

A few moments later the door opened and a maid, dressed in sombre black, without any relief, gasped, ‘Miss Carnforth!'

‘Mrs Hustwick, Sarah,' Lena corrected with a friendly half-smile as she swept past. ‘Are they in the drawing-room? ' she queried over her shoulder.

‘Er . . . er . . . yes, miss . . . er . . . ma'am.' Sarah scuttled in front of her. ‘Should I announce you?'

‘No need, I'll announce myself.'

The maid bobbed a quick curtsey, and, now fully in control of her surprise, hurried away to impart the latest news to her fellow servants.

Lena did not hesitate; she flung open the door and swept in. She was immediately hit by the gloom, not only from the oil lamps that made a feeble attempt to emulate daylight but also in the atmosphere. People spoke in hushed voices as if afraid they might desecrate the sombre occasion.

‘Hello, everyone,' she said, keeping her voice level and non-committal. Her eyes surveyed the room. Olivia, holding a handkerchief to her mouth, was sitting in the most comfortable arm-chair, her solemn-faced mother and father sitting to either side of her on straight-backed oak chairs. Alistair stood with Avril who dabbed her eyes with a delicate lace handkerchief. Dr and Mrs MacBride were sitting on the sofa, and standing behind them were Fiona and Robbie, trying to look more than serious while inwardly wishing they were safe at home in Scotland. Lena did not expect or wait for acknowledgement but went straight over to Olivia, carving her way to her former friend's side.

‘Olivia, I only heard the news two days ago. Naturally I'm devastated.' She bent down to kiss her on the cheek, felt Olivia recoil and saw her narrow astonished eyes fill with coldness. As Lena straightened she was aware of all other eyes on her before Alistair openly reacted.

He stepped towards her. ‘How dare you?' The words were meant to cow her. He had not reckoned on Lena's strength of will.

‘I have every right to be here.' She defied his implication and added, ‘I see you informed my uncle and aunt? Quite right too. But you lacked the decency to inform me.'

‘Decency? You think you deserve that?'

Lena gave a little shrug of her shoulders. ‘Depends how you view it. You obviously thought not, but I know James would have wanted me here.'

‘You assume too much.' The words came coldly from Olivia. ‘You don't realise, nor ever will, the hurt you caused him. I saw more closely than anyone what your actions did to him. Before most people he coped admirably, but there was an inner wound that never healed. You are not welcome here.'

Her father, sensing how much worse this exchange could get, intervened then. He had risen from his chair. ‘It is almost time we left for the church. I would ask you all to allow Lena to attend the funeral. After all, she spent many happy years here with James, and they were a support to each other during their tragic loss.' He fixed his gaze on Lena. ‘There is sadness enough here today. We want no more. I respectfully ask you not to return here after the funeral.'

This was not what she wanted; there were other things to be settled. But she could do nothing else but agree.

 

The church on the wind-swept cliff was packed as the people of Whitby paid their last respects to the leading member of a well-respected mercantile firm that had brought money and employment to this Yorkshire port. There were more people outside to witness the interment, conducted in a dignified fashion to match the short but poignant eulogy in the church. It brought so many memories flooding back for Lena. At one stage her conscience was pricked by the momentous decision she had made on the day of the launching of her brother's new ship. But she quickly assured herself she had made a wise decision and set her course accordingly. She must see things through. Carnforth's was in danger of being lost. She could not let that happen!

Lena moved away from the graveside before the rest of the mourners. As she walked to her carriage she felt many eyes fixed on her and saw heads draw close to whisper about her, as they had done when she first entered the church. She directed the coachman to the Angel where she was to stay until the following day when she would return to Hull as planned. But before that she had a call to make.

 

Lena breakfasted early and was driven to the family house in New Buildings where she judged that everyone would be gathered again, to ease the loneliness for Olivia. Her judgement proved to be correct. When the maid opened the door she was able to answer Lena's question, ‘They are all in the dining-room, ma'am.'

Lena pushed the door open slowly and took in the low buzz of conversation as she stepped into the room. No one noticed her until the door clicked shut behind her, then conversation stopped abruptly and all eyes were on her.

Albert Nash jumped to his feet. ‘I thought I told you . . .' he started angrily.

‘You did, but I need to speak to Olivia.'

‘I certainly don't want to speak to you,' came the sharp retort.

‘It will be to your advantage.'

‘Nothing you could ever say would be to my advantage! You destroyed our friendship, destroyed all that James felt for you, and almost broke my brother's heart. You have already said quite enough!'

Lena retained an apperarance of calm, though her heart was pounding in her chest.

‘What I have to say now will I hope, go some way to repairing the estrangment between us. All I ask is that you listen to me, just for a short while.'

For a moment Olivia did not speak. Valuing her brother's opinion, as always, she glanced at Alistair and saw his almost imperceptible nod.

‘Very well, we shall indulge you.'

‘I'd like to talk to you in private.'