Where Seagulls Soar (22 page)

Then she remembered Tilda and felt uneasy. Should she trust her friend with the secret of her first marriage, she wondered?

Her thoughts were interrupted when the girls came through, expressions of enquiry on their faces. ‘Oliver said there’s something important you must tell us.’

‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘I rather think I must. It’s about Tobias Darsham . . .?’

The pair weren’t as shocked as she’d thought they’d be.

‘How wonderful,’ Irene cried. ‘I wonder if Australia is anything like America.’

‘It will be better,’ Lydia said caustically, ‘for the Nash family doesn’t live there.’

In Melbourne, Gabriel gazed at his second son and shook his head. ‘Jonathan is the image of Christopher.’

‘Both of them look like you, Gabe.’ Her smile came spontaneously as she gazed at her husband. ‘Thank you for my sons.’

‘And thank you for mine, Jane my dear. You’ve made my life worth living.’ He stooped to tenderly kiss her cheek. ‘You look tired.’

‘It won’t be long before he sleeps all night.’

Rising to his feet, Gabriel stretched. ‘I’m going into the agency to see if there’s any mail arrived from home.’

‘It’s too soon to receive an answer to your letter.’

‘I know, but I thought James might have written to tell me the latest news. The last time I heard from him he said the two smaller clippers had been sold and the
Joanna Rose
would
be going on the market shortly. If I had the money, I’d buy her myself.’

He gazed around at the house, which was a far cry from the large residence he’d once owned in England. However, thanks to Joanna’s foresight in drawing money from the company for him
to use, their home had progressed from the little wooden shack it had first been to a comfortable size. Two large bedrooms had been added to supplement the smaller ones.

He’d had the back of the house extended, too, using ballast blocks, which were easy to obtain. A decent sized kitchen for Jane to cook in had replaced the lean-to, and a new drawing room
had doors that opened out on to the veranda for summer. He’d hung curtains on Jane’s instructions, blue velvet that tied back and lace at the windows for privacy.

Gabriel grinned. Not that anyone could overlook them, for his house was set back from its neighbours and surrounded by a high wall. On the river side, he’d erected a sturdy fence of
wrought iron to keep his sons within the confines of the garden.

In winter Melbourne was cold and wet. He’d had a fireplace built with a stone chimney. There was also a still room, where he’d once kept his home-made wine, though his first attempt
had been a disaster, with corks popping off at odd times of the day and night, like bullets. Now he sold his grapes to a vintner, who paid him well and supplied him with a crate of the finished
product. There was also a room to bathe in, with a cast-iron bath coated in enamel.

Generally, they lived a simple life, now and again socializing with a few of his business acquaintances and their wives. Most of the business was conducted at his club.

After discussions with an architect, Gabriel had every intention of dividing the block and building a splendid two-storey house for his family in the years to come. But not yet. He wanted money
put behind them, so Jane wouldn’t have to worry if anything happened to him.

He’d discussed with his wife the possibility of moving after his encounter with Edward Staines, for seeing his old employee and friend had driven home to him how very much he missed his
family and former acquaintances. It had also made him aware of the precarious position he’d placed his daughter and friends in.

Edward was bound to mention the incident to someone, for he had a dogged nature. And he’d probably come looking for him the next time the
Joanna Rose
docked in Melbourne, so
Gabriel would have to make himself scarce.

If he hadn’t been so stupid as to panic over his ill-fated and outwardly incestuous marriage to Joanna, then the Darsham and Morcant Shipping Company would still be solvent, and he’d
still be running it, he thought.

But then, he wouldn’t have met Jane, and his life wouldn’t have been given a new meaning. Having Jane and two fine sons to care for was a blessing he’d never thought to
experience.

Jane had talked him out of moving. ‘You’ve worked hard to establish yourself here,’ she’d said. ‘If the
Joanna Rose
is up for sale, Captain Staines is
unlikely to come here again. Besides, didn’t you have plans to buy a paddle steamer and ply your trade upriver?’

It had been an idea that had appealed to him at the time, a symptom of his restlessness. For he knew nothing about steamboats, and had enough work to occupy his time with. He missed his former
life and friends, that was all. He’d get over it. He’d have to! And if Joanna and his grandson decided to join them, all the better.

Brian Rushmore didn’t know who’d helped him escape from Newgate. In the dead of night, he was freed from his fetters and was bundled along the filthy corridors, to
be shoved unceremoniously outside a wall. The door was locked behind him.

There was a chill wind blowing and grit swirled around his ankles. Brian dragged his ragged clothes close to his body and crossed his arms on his chest, wondering which direction to go in, for
he couldn’t stay here. The law would be after him by morning.

A darker shadow detached itself from the shadows.

Toughened by several years of incarceration, where survival of the fittest was an unwritten rule, Brian spun round, his only weapons his large, meaty hands. But before he could react further, an
arm came round his neck and a cold blade pricked against the throbbing pulse just under his jaw.

‘At the end of the road is a carriage. Get inside it,’ a voice said quietly against his ear.

‘And if I don’t?’

‘I’ll kill you.’

The voice was so unemotional it chilled Brian to the bone. ‘What do you want of me?’

‘We want a job doing.’

‘And after it’s done?’

‘You’ll be given a ticket to go abroad.’

‘What about money.’

‘That too.’

‘I want the money first.’

‘I’ll take you to a place where you can clean yourself up, give you a new suit of clothes and an advance for your immediate needs. Do you accept, Rushmore?’

‘What about a woman?’

‘Don’t take me for a fool,’ the man snarled. ‘I can always arrange for you to go back inside, though I wouldn’t go to the bother. Life can be very short when the
need arises. Would you like me to demonstrate how quickly it can be snuffed?’

A chill ran through Brian. ‘Like hell, I would. What do I have to do?’

The man’s laugh sent goosebumps racing up Brian’s back. ‘It’ll be as easy as taking a child from its mother.’

The crowds visiting Portland to see the
Great Eastern
seemed endless, the harbour was crowded with boats coming and going, the narrow streets were bustling with
sightseers. Local children took advantage of the rush of visitors by selling fossils. Oliver couldn’t stop laughing when Joanna sold her doorstop. ‘We’ll be leaving in a few days
and I can’t take it with me,’ she said.

Uneasily, she thought of Tilda. She’d put off telling her friend she was leaving, but knew she must tell her by the end of the week. She intended to give Tilda the cottage, too. Being a
genuine Rushmore, Tilda had more claim to it, anyway. It would bring in rent to supplement David’s modest income.

Joanna looked round the cottage with very little regret. ‘I’ll be off on my travels again, Ma and Pa, and this time I won’t be coming back.’ The sense of connection
inside her had lessened, as if her emotional ties to the cottage were unravelling. It seemed to be telling her that she didn’t really belong any more. The island was letting her go.

Joanna knew she’d need to sell her mother’s jewellery to give herself a stake in her new country – something she’d managed to avoid doing so far. Even though she’d
never known her real mother the jewellery held some sentimental value for her, especially the rose brooch and the ring her father had slid on to her finger. Oliver had pleased her by handing back
her wedding ring, which she intended to keep.

She wasn’t going to the Barnes brothers, though, for they’d cheat her. Instead, she intended to go to Poole, where there was a proper jewellery shop. She’d ask Thaddeus to
negotiate a price for it on her behalf.

She set off down the hill in a blustery wind with Toby strapped into his carriage, hoping Leonard would be there to help her to board the ferry.

Because of the crowds she didn’t notice the man who fell into step behind her. As they were passing the open gate of a dingy net-maker’s yard, a hand grasped her arm and she was
steered swiftly through it.

Joanna hardly had time to gasp when she was pushed forward. As she tried to scramble to her feet she was hit from behind.

‘No,’ she whispered, fighting desperately to hold on to her fading senses as her knees buckled under her.

As she fell forward to the floor, something heavy was thrown on top of her, pinning her down. The light began to darken. Fighting the weight just tangled her up, like a fly in a spider’s
web. After a moment or two, she was too weak to move. Her wedding ring was wrenched from her finger.

‘Bitch,’ somebody grunted against her ear. ‘I’d give you the length of me if I had the time, just to teach you a lesson. You can have this instead.’

An unexpected kick to the stomach robbed her of breath and she began to retch. ‘Toby,’ she gasped out as she heard her son begin to cry.

Hands closed around her throat, squeezing relentlessly.

The last sound Joanna heard before her world went black was the steamship whistle.

Joanna had been unable to hang on to the consciousness she’d drifted in and out of. When she fully regained her wits it was to the soft charcoal light of evening.

Pain hammered in her head. Her ears were assailed with a clunk followed by a swishing noise, as if somebody was using a pump nearby.

She groaned as she tried to move, felt her bonds tighten. Cautiously, she moved her hands to see if she could loosen them, her fingers encountering many knots. She was caught in a fishing net,
so she must still be in the yard of the net-maker. There was a weight on top of her body, pinning her down.

The thought of Toby brought her to full awareness, and she began to struggle and shout. The swishing noise stopped as there was an alarmed screech. ‘Get yourself out here, our Ernie!
Something be caught in the nets.’

‘It’ll be Tommy Snodgrass’s auld tomcat. I’ll slice its balls off this time, just see if I don’t.’

‘It’s me. Joanna Morcant.’

‘Well, I never did. ’Tis the devil’s magic.
Ernie!
’ she shrieked, ‘The cat says his name be Joanna.’

Ernie’s voice came closer, along with the glow of a lamp. ‘The methodists’ fire and brimstone be making you mazed, woman, a bleddy cat can’t speak.’

‘Well, this one does, I heard it with my own two ears, you daft auld bugger,’ she muttered under her breath.

A hysterical giggle exploded from Joanna’s mouth. ‘I’m not a cat. I’m under the fishing nets.’

‘See. I told you it could speak. A real fright it give un, too.’

‘Get away with you, Gertie. ’Tis a woman’s voice. Here, make yourself useful and hold the bleddy lamp.’ Hands felt carefully round Joanna’s body and she groaned
when one of them touched against her bruised side. ‘You lie quiet, missus, while I get you out of there. I’ll try not to hurt you.’

The bulk of the net was lifted from her and the net-maker started on her arms, his nimble fingers quickly untangling her bonds. As he helped her to her feet, she clung to him, fighting off
dizziness.

‘What happened to you, missus?’ Ernie said.

‘Somebody hit me, and they took my son and stole my wedding ring.’

‘There’s some right wicked folk around these days,’ Gertie said with a sniff. ‘Weymouth folk come over the bridge to cause mischief all the time. And all those comings
and goings to see that damned great eyesore of a ship in the harbour. What if it blows up again? Like as not it will take the island with it. It shouldn’t be allowed. Do you be from these
parts, then?’

‘Just up the hill. Fortuneswell. I’m Joanna Morcant.’

‘The only Joanna I heard of was Joseph Rushmore’s daughter. A right saucy piece, she was. She was washed ashore in a storm, I heard, though don’t you go tellin’ anyone
that because it be a secret that Fanny Rushmore told me. A real comfort to her ma, the girl was, though. Anna set great store by her, and she was the apple of Joseph’s eye.’

A lump rose to Joanna’s throat. ‘I’m Joanna Rushmore, though Morcant is my married name.’

‘I’ll be blessed. You don’t look like no Rushmore to me. Those boys of Fanny Rushmore’s were a ratty looking lot. Funny that. I thought I saw that younger son of hers
today, not Peter, though, since he be dead. Brian, his name be. He must have got out of the jail. Came off the boat, he did.’

Joanna shuddered at the very thought of running into Brian Rushmore, the man who’d nearly raped her and had succeeded in doing the same to his own sister, Tilda. But the old woman must be
mistaken. She deliberately put Brian from her mind, for Tilda had said he’d been sentenced to life imprisonment.

‘That would have been Leonard you saw.’ Joanna couldn’t stand here chatting any longer. ‘Can you see my bag anywhere? I’ve got to get on.’

At least her jewellery hadn’t been stolen, she thought as her bag was discovered nearby. ‘Would you do me a favour?’ she asked the couple, because she didn’t want to have
to go back and explain everything when she was frantic to go after her son. ‘Go up to Fortuneswell, to the Rushmore house. Tell the people living there that Toby has been abducted, and Joanna
has gone to London to find him.’

‘Who be Toby, then?’ Ernie asked.

Desperation filled her and she shouted, ‘He’s my son . . . will you tell them?’

‘Aye, missus. There’s no need to take on so.’

‘Thank you.’ She was gone, running headlong down the hill, for she had to get to London as soon as possible. That’s where Lord Durrington had threatened to take Toby, and
nobody else would have taken her son.