Chapter 10
A new leaf.
King had regained some feeling in his fingers and toes by the time they had trudged back to the Captain’s home, but exhaustion settled heavy on his shoulders.
Every muscle ached and burned, but he refused to dwell upon the recent exercise that had come closer to seeing him washed up beside Bill Jenner than he cared to consider.
With a little surprise, he discovered the captain lived in the first of a row of terraced cottages, of which the next but one belonged to Alfred Marwick.
“Well, that’s a happy circumstance,” he murmured as the captain opened the back door and hurried him inside.
“What is?”
“Your neighbour, Alfred Marwick, he’s a good fellow. He’ll stand our story if it comes to it.”
The captain gave him rather a hard look. “By good fellow, do you mean he works on the wrong side of the law?”
King glowered, moving closer to loom over the captain.
“I mean, that he’d save your neck, you devil, and how folk who grew up with nothing to call their own keep their skin and bones together is none of your bloody affair.
He’d not hurt anyone but to save his own skin and if he’s taken it’s from those who can afford the loss. ”
“I beg your pardon,” Dearborn said, frowning over King’s words. “I suppose there are those who would condemn me as a murderer. I… I ought not judge, you are quite right. Please forgive me.”
King grunted. “It’s of no matter, only you’d do well to treat Marwick with respect. His sister too, for she’s innocent of his world. He’s making a life for her here, away from the poverty they were born into, and that’s admirable, don’t you think?”
“I do.” Dearborn nodded gravely. “Now, come and sit down before you fall down. You can sleep on the sofa there, unless you’d like a bite to eat first?”
“I would, I’m famished,” King admitted, relieved when the captain hurried away and began searching for food in the kitchen.
He returned a short while later and handed over a plate filled with thickly sliced bread and butter, cheese and pickles, and slices of ham.
King ate ravenously, relieved to quiet his clamouring belly.
“You’re not eating?” he asked Dearborn, who blanched and shook his head.
“I couldn’t,” he said. “I keep thinking about… about the body. Is there any chance it will never be found?”
King shook his head. “Unlikely. The tide will take it down the coast and it will wash up somewhere between Camber Sands and Dungeness, I reckon. It might take a few days, four or five at most, but as to when it’s discovered, that’s another matter. But better sooner than later.”
“Why?” Dearborn asked, horrified.
“Because that poor wife of his won’t be able to declare him dead without a body,” King said, watching the captain with interest. “But when her lout of a husband is washed up, she’ll be free, free to start over, to marry again if she chooses, though I pray she does better the next time.
The poor young woman needs someone kind to look after her. ”
“Yes,” Dearborn said, nodding, a wistful expression chasing away the horror that had been there upon King’s description of the body being discovered.
“Yes, the poor dear girl, she needs someone to rely upon, to treat her as she ought to be treated. How such a pretty, gentle soul ended up with Bill Jenner is beyond me. I heard tell her father arranged the match, but what manner of father could do such a thing to his own child?”
King snorted. “You’d be surprised,” he said darkly, realising that Dearborn had no experience of parents who despised their offspring and didn’t give a snap of their fingers for their welfare. “Is there any more?” he asked, discovering he was still hungry and offering up his empty plate.
Dearborn nodded and got to his feet at once. “Of course. I’ll fetch it.”
King sighed, satisfied, and closed his eyes to wait.
Anne was late leaving the hotel the next morning, but she had a fitting with Madame Auguste, and the gown was one she’d been hoping to wear for King, or at least have him see her in.
She had no illusions that he would remain here for long.
Now it was clear there was to be nothing between them, that she would not risk an affair and he was too honourable to press her, he would leave.
He would go back to London because, despite what some would say, he was a good man with a kind heart and he would not hurt her by putting temptation in her way, though Lord alone knew he must know he could do it.
If he had the mind to seduce her, Anne was very much afraid she might not be strong enough to deny him.
It was half past ten by the time she left the dressmaker’s shop and turned towards the haberdasher’s, for she had in mind to furbish up the curtains in the dining room.
It was such a sunny room with three large windows, which was a blessing, but it was very hard on fabric, and the curtains were sadly faded at the edges.
She’d had the idea of cutting away the faded parts and adding a strip of plain yellow, which would match nicely the yellow roses on the existing fabric and look as if it were done by design, rather than a thrifty device for saving a good deal of money.
She was about to step up to the door of this establishment when she heard a familiar voice.
“Thank you, Captain, for a most enjoyable evening, though my head might take a day or two to reciprocate the sentiment,” remarked Jasper King, his voice travelling as he smiled and touched his fingers to his temples with a wry smile.
“Indeed, sir, I cannot remember such a pleasant evening, though I wish my luck with the cards had stood a little firmer,” chimed in the young man who stood beside King, and who Anne recognised as Alfred Marwick.
“You’re welcome, no trouble at all. We must do it again,” Dearborn remarked cheerfully.
“We shall. My place next time, Adrian,” Marwick said with a wink that made the captain look rather startled if Anne was any judge. “Good day to you.”
“Er… good day, Alfred. Good day to you too… Jasper,” the captain said a touch awkwardly before hurrying back inside.
King turned and patted young Marwick on the shoulder, speaking in a low voice before looking up and seeing Anne before him.
He went very still, and Anne felt her colour rise as their eyes met, remembering the last time she had seen him, the impassioned words she had given him before running from the room.
His gaze did not leave her face, and Anne could not stir from the spot, her heart thudding with increasing fervour as a slow, wonderful smile curved over his lips.
“Well, I’ll, er… leave you to it, eh, old man,” Mr Marwick said, glancing between them and smothering a laugh as he darted in his own front door and closed it behind him.
“Well, are you going to stand there all day, grinning at me like a lunatic?” Anne demanded, once she had gathered her wits enough to realise they were making a spectacle of themselves.
“No, indeed,” he said, walking towards her at last. “Though I could stare at you all day and still think myself the most sensible man in the world and no lunatic. For what man of sense could find anything better to do, I ask you?”
“Very prettily said, sir,” Anne replied, unable to hold his gaze a moment longer. “I did not realise you were not in the hotel. Did you get locked out?”
“No,” King said, offering her his arm. “But after a certain lady said words to me of the kind I shall treasure to my dying day, I felt restless and out of sorts. Dearborn had offered me a game of cards, so I took him up on it.”
“You’re quite good pals now, it seems,” she remarked, unable to comment upon what else he had said, for her voice quavered with the strength of her emotions.
“I don’t want to speak of Dearborn,” King said in a harsh whisper. “I want to know if you meant it.”
Anne looked up at him, appalled that he should begin such a conversation whilst out in full view of the town. Yet what could she do but answer him honestly?
“Of course I meant it. Do you think I say such things to every man I meet? And if you think I am continuing this conversation whilst the world looks on, you are very much mistaken,” she added, tugging her arm free of his and stalking off, back to the hotel, her faded curtains entirely forgotten.
King grinned, a ridiculous grin that he felt he might never lose if he discovered she not only meant those words but was brave enough to act upon them as she’d suggested she might.
Though he’d been tired enough to drop where he stood last night, he’d been too agitated to sleep.
Thoughts of what might have been if the sea had won their tussle for his life had plagued him.
Anne might never have known what she already meant to him, and he might not have had the chance to discover everything she could mean to him too.
The opportunity to live a life of the kind he had always thought beyond his grasp now seemed to flicker into being.
Yet hope was a dangerous thing. It could keep a man from the grave or lead him inexorably towards it.
All the same, he hoped that his plans, or more like his dreams, the ones in which he had dwelt last night, might have some basis in reality.
Suddenly energised, he returned to the hotel, finding Repton pacing his rooms.
“Oh, sir!” the old man said, hurrying towards him and grasping his hands like he was a long-lost son. “Oh, Mr King, sir, I was that worried.”
“Hush,” King said sharply. “Keep your voice down.”
“I beg your pardon, sir. It’s only I’ve been up half the night, not knowing what to do for the best,” Repton said, looking utterly miserable.
“You did nothing, I hope?” King asked, narrowing his eyes in concern.
“What do you take me for?” Repton replied indignantly, some of his top lofty valet role reappearing for a moment. “I know better than that.”
King sighed with relief. “There’s a good fellow. I’m sorry I worried you, but there was no help for it.”
“A spot of bother?” Repton asked anxiously.