The Ragged Heiress (39 page)

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Authors: Dilly Court

Tags: #Fiction, #Sagas

BOOK: The Ragged Heiress
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He returned moments later and having placed the kettle on the hob he took a watch from his pocket and examined it, frowning. ‘If your employer has not returned in the next half-hour, I’ll have to go about
matters in a different way. If I have not received payment by this afternoon, the cargo will be put up for auction.’

Lucetta eyed him curiously. She had grown up in the shadow of her father’s business and she knew that he dealt mainly with shipping agents rather than the masters of the vessels. ‘Don’t you have an agent to do this for you, Captain?’

‘I am part owner of the
Sea Eagle
and not yet in a position to pay agents’ fees. I handle all our business deals personally, which is why I have not the time or the inclination to await Mr Froy’s pleasure.’

He glanced at his watch again and Lucetta was afraid that he would leave before Jeremiah arrived. ‘He will be here soon, I am certain. A few more minutes won’t make any difference. Won’t you sit down and make yourself comfortable? The kettle will be boiling soon and I’ll make the tea.’

‘Mr Froy is lucky to have such a devoted assistant. I will give him another ten minutes, but I have two days in which to turn my vessel around. I can’t afford long delays.’

‘You are leaving so soon?’

He met her anxious gaze with a casual shrug of his shoulders. ‘An idle ship doesn’t make any money, and neither does an empty hold. I was lucky enough to negotiate another cargo bound for France when we docked on Christmas Eve, and when we reach Calais I will look for further business.’

Lucetta busied herself making the tea. ‘You can have very little time at home with your family.’

‘I am a free man,’ Sam said grimly. ‘I have no ties in England or abroad. Marriage and seafaring do not sit well together.’

Her hand shook as she selected a cup that had the least amount of cracks and chips from the tray behind the counter. ‘I think that if a woman loved a man enough she could put up with almost anything.’

‘You have romantic notions, Miss Guthrie. I am afraid that I have no such delusions.’

Lucetta glanced at the clock on the wall, willing Jeremiah to hurry. She knew to the last penny how much the owners of the
Sea Eagle
were owed, and thanks to her efforts in collecting outstanding debts there was enough money to pay them, but it was Boxing Day and all the banks were closed. The street outside was unusually quiet and the only sounds in the room were the ticking of the clock and the crackle of the burning coals. She made the tea and watched Sam drink it in silence. She longed to reach out and smooth away the frown that creased his forehead and she struggled to think of something to say that would ease the situation. The carefree young seafarer she had known and loved had matured into a man weighed down by responsibilities, and worst of all he did not recognise her.

Sam put down his cup and rose to his feet. ‘I can’t wait any longer. Froy has had his chance and you must tell him that the goods will be sent to auction in the morning unless I receive full payment in cash.’

He was about to leave the office when the sound of an approaching cab made him hesitate. Lucetta could
have cried with relief when a hansom cab drew up outside and Perks climbed down, followed more slowly by his master. Jeremiah strode into the office, shaking a powdering of snow from his top hat.

‘What the devil d’you think you’re doing calling me out on Boxing Day, Captain Cutler? Don’t you know that the banks are all closed until tomorrow?’

Sam eyed Jeremiah coldly. ‘A promissory note will be sufficient to secure your goods, but they will not be released to you until I have visited the bank first thing in the morning and have the cash in my hands.’

‘Are you suggesting that my credit is not good?’ Jeremiah’s cheeks puffed out and a dull red flush rose up from his throat to suffuse his face.

‘I’m not suggesting anything, Froy. I’m merely protecting my own interests. I would be grateful if you would write that note. I have a lot to do today.’

‘Fetch me pen and paper, Miss Guthrie,’ Jeremiah ordered, waving his hand in her direction. ‘And hurry up. I have a house filled with guests waiting for my return.’

‘I’ll fetch it, miss.’ Perks had entered the office in the wake of his master. He gave Lucetta a perfunctory smile. ‘Sit down and drink your tea.’ He then hurried into the warehouse.

Jeremiah faced Sam angrily. ‘You’d better be careful, mister. I’ll pay you this time but there are plenty of other shippers who would be only too pleased to carry my cargos.’

‘But not as cheaply as I do, and not as quickly either. The
Sea Eagle
is as fast a ship as you’ll find, and the
mix of steam and sail takes weeks off each trip. Your father knows when he’s on to a good thing and he has the final say in business matters, not you.’

Lucetta could see a vein throbbing in Jeremiah’s temple and his colour deepened from brick-red to puce. She thought for a moment that he was going to have an apoplectic fit, but Perks reappeared and Jeremiah snatched the pen and paper from him. He scribbled the note and thrust it into Sam’s outstretched hand. ‘Don’t be too sure of yourself, mister. I have some influence amongst the city merchants and I could ruin you if I chose.’

‘But that would not be to your best advantage,’ Sam said calmly. ‘If you put me out of business you would have to pay the going rate to the larger shipping lines, and I’m sure that’s not what you want.’

‘All right, but I want my cargo unloaded first thing in the morning. See to it, Cutler.’ Jeremiah turned to Perks. ‘And you deal with anything else that might come up today. I don’t want to be disturbed again.’ He made for the street door and strode out to the waiting hansom cab.

‘Charming fellow,’ Sam said, smiling for the first time as he pocketed the promissory note. ‘He could at least have offered you a lift home, Miss Guthrie.’

‘It’s not like it was in the old days,’ Perks said gloomily. ‘I might not have known him, but I believe that Mr Henry would be turning in his grave if he could see what his brother and nephew have done to the business.’

‘I must go now.’ Sam put his cap on and he turned
to Lucetta, giving her his full attention for the first time. ‘I’m sorry if I ruined your precious day off. Perhaps I could see you home safely?’

He was regarding her so intently that she was taken off guard. Had he remembered her? It was too much to hope for and she could not bear another disappointment. ‘No – I mean, thank you, but I don’t have far to go. I wouldn’t want to put you out.’

‘I have business on Spirit Quay. Is that anywhere near your home?’

‘Miss Guthrie lives in Samson’s Green, Captain,’ Perks said before Lucetta had a chance to answer for herself. ‘It’s on your way.’

‘That’s settled then,’ Sam said, smiling. ‘Put on your bonnet and shawl, Miss Guthrie.’

She had been intent on refusing his offer but she was undone by that smile. For a brief moment she saw the Sam she had known and loved, and she knew that she could refuse him nothing. The fact that he did not recognise her hurt more than she would have thought possible, but the light in the office was poor and she was wearing the drabbest of clothes. He was tired after a long sea voyage and his mind was focused on business, not pleasure. Added to all that, he was under the impression that she had died more than two years ago. It was hardly surprising that he did not know her, but she could still hope. She put on her bonnet and slipped her shawl around her shoulders. ‘I’m ready, Captain.’

Perks smiled benignly. ‘Thank you for helping out, Miss Lucy. I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Don’t work too hard, Mr Perks.’ Lucetta accepted
Sam’s arm and was glad of his help as she stepped outside onto the slippery snow-coated cobblestones.

‘You’ll have to direct me,’ Sam said, pulling his cap down further over his eyes as the thick white flakes swirled around their heads. ‘I don’t know Samson’s Green.’

‘It’s not far,’ Lucetta murmured, shivering as the flakes melted on her shawl and the icy water seeped through the thin cotton of her blouse.

Sam glanced down at her and he frowned. ‘That is just as well. We must get you home quickly before you freeze to death.’ Taking her by the arm, he quickened his pace and Lucetta had to concentrate hard in order to keep up with him. She couldn’t help thinking that the old Sam Cutler would have taken off his jacket and wrapped it tenderly around her shoulders, insisting that her need was greater than his. As it was she found herself half carried, half dragged back to the narrow street she called home. She stopped outside her front door, praying that he would not want to come inside. He might not know her but he was almost certain to recognise Guthrie and feel duty-bound to hand him over to the authorities. She stood with her back to the door, peering up at him through the driving snow. ‘Thank you for seeing me home, Captain Cutler.’

He nodded his head, thrusting his hands deep in his pockets and turning away as he spoke. ‘Good day to you, Miss Guthrie.’ He walked off towards Redmead Lane without a backwards glance.

* * *

Next day at the office Lucetta could not wait to interrogate Perks. She arrived early just as he was stoking the fire. He glanced over his shoulder as she entered the room bringing with her a gust of cold, snow-laden air. ‘You’re bright and early, Miss Lucy.’

She took off her sodden bonnet and shawl and hung them over the back of a beech-wood chair to dry. ‘I thought we might be busy today, Mr Perks.’ She moved closer to the fire, holding her chilled hands out to its warmth.

He struggled to his feet, rubbing his knees as if they caused him pain. ‘This weather doesn’t help my rheumatics. I’ll be glad when winter’s over.’

‘It must be wonderful to sail off to sunnier climes like Mr Froy senior and Captain Cutler.’

‘Yes, miss.’ Perks went behind the counter and opened a leather-bound ledger. ‘The captain saw you home safely then?’

‘Right to the door, for which I was very grateful as the pavements were very slippery. Do you know him well, Mr Perks? He seems quite young to be a sea captain.’

Perks took a pair of spectacles from his jacket pocket and polished them with a cotton handkerchief. ‘He was first mate on the ill-fated
Caroline
, but he was left behind in Bali when she sailed for England. He seems to have come into some money and he bought himself a half-share in the
Sea Eagle.
There was talk that Captain Cutler had made his fortune by selling a valuable cargo that Mr Henry had bought and paid for but hadn’t been able to bring back on the
Caroline
. I know that
Mr Bradley had his suspicions at the time, but there was no proof. All Mr Henry’s papers went down with the ship and there was no one left to say yea or nay to the accusations.’ Perks placed his spectacles on the bridge of his nose and his expression changed to one of concern as he stared at Lucetta. ‘Are you all right, Miss Lucy? You’ve gone as white as the proverbial sheet.’

‘I’m fine, thank you,’ she said hastily. ‘Just a bit cold, that’s all. I’d best get to work before Mr Jeremiah arrives.’ She hurried past him into the warehouse, where the men were just arriving for work. Their initial animosity had lessened gradually over the weeks and now they greeted her with nods and smiles, adding a few grumbles about the weather and the bone-chilling temperature which was little higher inside than out. Lucetta smiled automatically and headed for the relative peace of her tiny office. She sat down, staring into space as she grappled with the notion that Sam had stolen the goods that her father had trusted him to retrieve and send to London on the
Caroline
’s sister ship. She could not believe that he had sold the cargo in order to further his career. Sam would not do such a dishonest thing. She bit her lip as doubts assailed her, but she pushed them to the back of her mind. It was idle gossip, of course, and most likely put about by Bradley himself, who had turned what had been a most profitable business into one that was on the verge of collapse.

While she was growing up, Lucetta had never paid much attention to the dull discourse concerning financial matters that passed between her father and his
colleagues, but she realised now that she must have absorbed something from their conversations. She could see why Uncle Bradley was not making money, but she knew that Jeremiah would brush aside any suggestions she might make. He had made it plain that he thought all women were feather-brained creatures put on the earth for one purpose only, and he only tolerated her because she worked for less pay than a man. She sighed and began sorting through the neat stacks of papers on her desk. She must put all thoughts of Sam and what might have been from her mind if she were to keep a clear head. There was rent to be paid and fuel, food and candles to be bought.

Guthrie’s injured leg would make it difficult for him to get about on the freezing pavements, and he was fit only for the lightest of manual labours. She had not told him about Sam when she returned home yesterday and she did not intend to, especially in the light of what Perks had just told her. Guthrie was as protective of her as a guard dog, and his lameness would not prevent him from using his fists if he were provoked. Lucetta suspected that he had gone back to his former trade of picking pockets. He had protested his innocence and promised her that he had earned what little money he brought home by honest labour, but doubts still lingered in her mind. She had found a pawnbroker’s ticket in the pocket of a shirt she was about to wash, and when faced with it he had admitted one such lapse, but had given her his word that he would not steal again. She could only hope that he would not give in to temptation.

She turned with a start as a sudden gust of cold air blew in from the street. The double doors to the warehouse had been flung open and the men leapt into action, hefting huge crates into the unloading bay. It would seem that Sam had cashed the promissory note and would be preparing to set sail as soon as the next cargo was loaded. Her feelings were so mixed that she did not know what to think or whom to believe. If he had truly loved her wouldn’t he have recognised her the moment he saw her?

‘Haven’t you any work to do, Miss Guthrie?’

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