The Orphan's Dream (38 page)

‘Poppycock. You'd be bored to death within weeks. My client is master and owner of the ship but a poor businessman. He needs a partner who would be prepared to invest and run the business side of things. If he doesn't find someone soon I'm afraid he'll go bankrupt and lose everything, which would be a shame because he's a decent man.'

‘I'm not looking for a husband,' Mirabel said warily. ‘I hope you don't think you're acting as a marriage broker.'

Zilla threw back her head and laughed. ‘Edric Hamilton has a wife and five children, as well as a stuck-up sister-in-law and a brother who won't have anything to do with him.'

‘The name sounds familiar,' Mirabel said thoughtfully. ‘He wouldn't be related to Adela Hamilton, would he?'

‘Do you know her?'

‘She runs the soup kitchen where I used to help. Anyone related to her has my sympathy.'

‘Does that mean you'll consider the idea?'

‘If you can arrange a meeting with Mr Hamilton I'll be happy to hear what he has to say.'

At first sight Edric Hamilton was not a prepossessing figure. He stood on the quay wall, a towering figure over six feet in height. His fiery red hair stood out around his head in a mass of tight curls, matched by a beard and moustache that masked the whole of his lower face. His eyes, rimmed with sandy lashes, were the intense blue of a summer sky and a livid scar on the left side of his face showed up white against his tanned skin. ‘Mrs Kettle.' He advanced towards her holding out a huge hand at the end of a muscular forearm exposed by his rolled up shirt sleeve. ‘How good of you to come.' His voice was surprisingly cultured and at odds with his appearance. ‘Would you care to come aboard and see for yourself?'

Mirabel shook hands, trying hard not to wince as strong fingers crushed her bones together in a firm grip. ‘Yes, Captain Hamilton. I think I would.'

He descended the wooden ladder placed precariously on the deck of his vessel and propped against the wooden stanchions of the quay wall. Standing at the bottom he held out his arms. ‘I'll catch you if you fall.'

‘Thank you, that won't be necessary, Captain.' Mirabel put one foot on the top rung, holding on for dear life as she climbed down the ladder. The vessel was a paddle steamer with one funnel amidships and its deck lined with wooden benches. ‘What exactly do you do carry, Captain Hamilton?' She gazed in horror at the disarray on the deck, which was covered in a film of black oil, and the benches were splattered with bird droppings.

‘Passengers, ma'am. I used to carry sightseers in summer, although to be truthful not too many want to step on board these days.'

Looking round Mirabel could understand why. She tried to be positive. ‘What about cargo?'

‘Sometimes I get a charter, but I don't have time to go looking for work. I'm a seafaring man, used to sailing bigger craft than this, but needs must.'

‘I'm afraid I don't understand. Why do you continue with this type of work if it doesn't pay?'

‘I have little choice, Mrs Kettle.' He stared at her, his sandy brows lowered in a frown. ‘I have a family to keep, and taking sightseers downriver used to pay well, but when the
Princess Alice
went down four years ago with such a terrible loss of life my business suffered too.'

‘Perhaps what you offer isn't quite enough these days,' Mirabel suggested tactfully. ‘Maybe a clean-up and a coat of paint would attract more custom.'

Edric threw up his hands. ‘Ma'am, do I look as though I can afford to pay for such things?'

‘You can afford Zilla's prices. I would have thought this would be your priority as it's your way of earning a living. What does your wife have to say about all this?'

‘She says it was a bad day when I split with my old partner. He bought me out five years ago. I sold the brig and bought this, thinking I could run the business by myself.'

‘What happened to your partner? Wouldn't he be the one to go to for advice?'

‘The poor fellow's ship was lost off the coast of Havana with all hands.'

‘What was his name?' Mirabel's breath hitched in her throat and her heart pounded against her ribcage, and she already knew the answer.

‘Jack Starke. He was a good mate, God rest his soul. It was through Zilla that we met.'

‘He didn't drown. Last time I saw him he was alive and well.'

The corners of Edric's eyes crinkled into a smile. ‘You don't say so. Well I never did. Where is the old devil?'

‘Florida. At least that's where he was a few weeks ago.'

‘Zilla told me you're well travelled, but I'd no idea you knew my mate Jack. How is he?'

‘He's enjoying life as far as I know.' It was painful to talk about Jack in such a casual way, but knowing that he had been this man's friend had made her think differently about helping Edric. Suddenly his needs and her own seemed to be inextricably interwoven, and dragging him from a pit of despair was a challenge she could not ignore. ‘But this isn't about Jack Starke; this is about your business, Captain Hamilton.'

He ran his hand through his untidy mass of hair. ‘Do you mean you'll help me?'

‘I'd like to talk it over with you, but I might be interested.'

‘Why would a lady like you want to take on something like this?'

‘My father was a businessman, Captain. Perhaps I've inherited some of the instincts that made him a success.'

‘With all due respect, I'm not sure about working with a woman, ma'am.'

‘I haven't agreed to anything yet, but as I see it you haven't got much choice. What does your wife think about all this?' She encompassed the vessel with a wave of her hand.

‘She threw me out, Mrs Kettle. I've been living below deck for the past six months.'

‘I need to see the whole of the ship, Captain. And a report from a surveyor would be helpful. There's no point putting money into the boat if it's about to sink to the bottom of the river.'

Mirabel's first mission, having inspected the vessel and arranged for a survey to be done, was to visit Edric's wife. The family home was in Limehouse, close to the river, and the dwelling was, like the boat, in a state of disrepair. Tiles were missing from the roof and several of the windows were boarded up. Fronting directly onto the street, the house was sandwiched between a pawnbroker and a pub. It was not the most salubrious area even in broad daylight. She rapped on the knocker and somewhere inside a dog barked and a baby began to cry. The door was opened by a thin woman whose pale face was lined with fatigue, but vestiges of her youthful prettiness still lingered. She stared at Mirabel, looking her up and down without saying a word.

‘Mrs Hamilton, may I come in for a moment?'

‘Who are you?'

‘My name is Mirabel Kettle.'

‘If you're from the school board I don't know where Jimmy is.'

‘I'm not from the school board. I'm here because I might be able to help your husband with his business, but I wanted to speak to you first.'

‘You'd better come in, then.'

Mirabel followed her into the dingy parlour where a baby lay in a wooden crib by the window while a toddler crawled round the floor, trying to pick up a cockroach. The walls were covered in faded prints of ships, and every available surface was littered with strange objects presumably brought back from foreign parts. The only furniture was a square pine table, several wooden stools and a rocking chair by the fire. The grate was empty and the air was thick with the smell of soot, rising damp and the odours creeping in from the river. ‘My husband's sister-in-law didn't send you, did she?'

Mirabel had a sudden vision of fastidious Adela Hamilton standing in her place, looking round with her nose in the air. ‘No, she didn't. May I sit down?'

‘Tell me what you want. I have a baby to feed and a meal to cook for my boys. They're down at the water's edge, scavenging for anything that will fetch a copper or two. Why have you come here?'

‘I'm thinking of investing in your husband's business, but he can't go on living on board the
Beatrice
.'

‘He named the boat after me, but that was in better times. I don't want him back, Mrs Kettle. He squanders any money he gets on women and drink.'

‘I won't part with a penny until I'm certain he'll change his ways. Would you be prepared to give him another chance if he promises to behave?'

A wry smile lit Beatrice's eyes for a brief moment. ‘He's not a schoolboy, Mrs Kettle. I can see that you mean well but you've obviously led a sheltered life. You wouldn't know what women like me have to put up with.'

‘Did he beat you?'

‘Never!'

Mirabel glanced at the baby in the crib. ‘But he obviously loves you.'

‘Men will have their way and love doesn't always come into it. You're a married woman, Mrs Kettle. You know the way it is.'

Mirabel felt the blood rush to her cheeks and she turned her head away. ‘Of course, but do you love your husband?'

‘I did once, but he was different then. We aren't the same people now.'

‘I doubt that, Beatrice.' Mirabel tried another tack. ‘You weren't born to this sort of life, I can tell that. You deserve better.'

‘You can work miracles, can you, Mrs Kettle?'

‘It's Mirabel, and no, of course I can't, but I've had a long talk with your husband, and I think I can judge character. I believe he is sincere in wanting to mend his ways.'

‘He's made more promises than I care to remember, but they always come to nothing. We're better off without him.'

Mirabel looked round the room, suppressing a shudder. ‘Are you sure about that? If your husband's business improves you could move somewhere more suited to your needs.'

‘It wasn't always like this.' Beatrice leaned over to pick up the baby. ‘Hush now, Charlotte.' She cradled the infant in her arms. ‘When Eddie was in business with Jack we had a good living, but they went their separate ways, and now poor Jack is dead.'

‘I know Captain Starke and I believe he was a good friend to you and Captain Hamilton. I'm happy to say that he's alive and well.'

‘Jack is alive?'

‘He survived the shipwreck, along with most of his crew. I met him by chance a few weeks ago in Florida.'

Beatrice sank down on the rocking chair. ‘Well I never did!'

‘I think Jack would want me to help you out of your present difficulties,' Mirabel said, pressing home her advantage.

‘What is he to you, if you don't mind me asking?' Beatrice unbuttoned her bodice and put the baby to her breast.

‘It's a long story.'

A slow smile lit Beatrice's eyes. ‘I'm not going anywhere for a while.' She beckoned to the toddler, who had abandoned her efforts to catch the elusive insect. ‘Come and sit with me, Lily. The lady has a tale to tell.'

‘I'd make you a cup of tea, but I'd need to light the fire first,' Beatrice said when Mirabel came to the end of her narrative. ‘Thank you for being so frank with me. I had you down for one of those rich women like Adela, who patronise the poor because it makes them feel better about themselves, but now I know different.'

‘I would like to help you and your husband, but I would be doing it for my benefit as well. I intend to make money, which of course we would share. I can't spend the rest of my life feeling sorry for myself.'

‘What about that nasty man Wiley? My Eddie would sort him out in two seconds flat.'

‘I hope it won't come to that, but I'll deal with Wiley. His threats don't bother me, and he can't hurt poor Hubert now.' Mirabel rose to her feet. ‘Don't worry about the tea, Beatrice.'

‘Have you decided whether or not to go into business with Eddie?' Beatrice hitched the baby over her shoulder. ‘He has his weaknesses but he's an honest man.'

‘I'm sure he is, and if the surveyor's report is favourable, then I just have to find out exactly how much I'm due to collect from the tontine, and I'll make Edric an offer.'

‘Jack was a fool to let you go,' Beatrice said, holding out her hand. ‘I'll tell him so in no uncertain terms when I see him again.'

The surveyor's report was favourable. The
Beatrice
was sound, but in need of a considerable amount of hard work to make it an attractive proposition as a passenger craft. The money from the tontine was paid into Mirabel's bank account, and although it was not enough to keep her in comfort for the rest of her life, there was sufficient to allow her to enter into a business contract with Edric Hamilton. It was an easy decision to make, and although Jack seemed unlikely to return to London, working with his ex-partner made her feel that he was not altogether lost to her. As a married woman she had made the heartbreaking decision to walk away from him in Florida, and there was no going back now. He had probably moved on, or else he was content to live out his life on the beach with rum as his constant companion. She set her sights on building up a business with Edric and taking care of her surrogate family.

With autumn upon them and winter snapping at its heels, she set up an office in what had been Hubert's study, and employed Alf to start work on the
Beatrice
, helping Edric to clean, paint and generally tidy up the vessel, while she put all her efforts into renewing the licence to trade and finding suitable work. It was a chance remark from Alf that led her to visit the Anglers' Association in Clerkenwell Road, where she was met by the supercilious secretary, who seemed to think that she was trespassing in a purely masculine domain. She had been prepared for this, however, and sat listening patiently while he expounded on the difference between men and women. ‘Wives,' he concluded pompously, ‘are the angels of the house. They should leave all other matters to their husbands, who are far better suited to deal with the outside world.'