A Thimbleful of Hope Page 16

  She didn’t go downstairs until the following day after the dresses had been delivered, and she was obliged to be present when people called to offer their condolences.

  Aunt Felicity was one of them, eager to hear a first-hand account of the accident. Violet sat in the parlour with Ottilie and Eleanor, and Mama who stared mutely towards the window, unable to contribute anything to the conversation. Wilson brought tea and brandy, then left the room.

  ‘Is there anything I can do, my dears?’ their aunt asked. ‘I am at your disposal.’

  ‘It’s very kind of you to offer, but we have everything in hand,’ Ottilie said.

  ‘Have you any idea when we might expect the date of the funeral?’ she went on.

  ‘Don’t you know? His body hasn’t been found.’ Ottilie poured the tea and passed round the cups.

  ‘Oh, I see. He is still out there.’ Their aunt stared towards the sea. ‘How dreadful. Will there be a memorial service instead?’

  ‘We haven’t decided – it’s too soon,’ Ottilie said. ‘But the vicar is going to remember Mr Brooke this Sunday. There will be no funeral or wake until he has been returned to us.’

  Violet toyed with the jet beads at her throat, her mind drifting. Oh, Arvin. She remembered how she had rebuked him over copying out the love letters from the book, how she had complained of his prolonged absences in France, and the harsh words they had exchanged when boarding the steam packet. How she regretted them now.

  ‘The inquest is being held today, and one of your father’s acquaintances, the Mayor of Dover himself, has mooted an inquiry by the Board of Trade,’ their aunt said. ‘They will find out who is to blame for the accident and they will be punished.’

  Through the mists of her sorrow and uncertainty, the heat of a slow burning anger began to sear through Violet’s veins. If she ever found out who was responsible for the accident, she would seek them out and make their lives a misery, just as they had ruined her future.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said, standing up and putting her tea back on the tray.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Eleanor said.

  ‘To my room.’

  ‘Leave her be,’ she heard her aunt say. ‘All this talk is upsetting her. I dare say she needs time alone to grieve.’

  She would end up like Queen Victoria who had lost her beloved Prince Albert a few years ago – they’d had twenty-one years of married life while she’d had only one. She would wear black and remain in seclusion for ever. She hadn’t exactly been prepared for widowhood. She didn’t know what to do, how to behave, or what she wanted. Without Arvin, she felt she had lost everything, her status and hopes for the future.

  The next morning, she was sitting at the dressing table in her nightgown and slippers, resting her head on her hands as daylight tried to make its way around the chinks in the curtains.

  ‘Violet, it’s me.’ The door opened a crack and Eleanor’s face appeared. ‘It’s gone ten. I hope you don’t mind me disturbing you. I’ve brought tea, toast and the newspapers.’

  ‘Can’t you see I’m in no mood for reading or company?’

  ‘I thought it might help if I showed you this …’ Eleanor brought the tray across to her. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry for what happened to Mr Brooke.’ She burst into tears and Violet’s resolve to remain in isolation and in widow’s weeds for the rest of her life wavered.

  ‘Come here.’ She took the tray and put it down on the bed, then got up to embrace her sister.

  ‘I wish … it’s too late. Poor Arvin.’ Eleanor cried against Violet’s shoulder. ‘To have gone like that, swallowed up by the ocean. And it wasn’t even a romantic way to die, not a proper shipwreck on a stormy night—’ She broke off suddenly. ‘I’m making things worse for you. I should go.’

  ‘No, I’m glad you came to find me.’ Violet tucked a damp lock of Eleanor’s hair back behind her ear and released her. ‘What was it you wanted to show me?’

  ‘There’s an article about the inquest held yesterday at Dover Town Hall,’ Eleanor said, recovering her wits. She picked up the newspaper, smoothed it out and tapped her finger against the front page. ‘It names the coroner, the crew and those who lost their lives … and the name of the poor governess.’

  ‘Don’t read them out,’ Violet said quickly. ‘I can’t bear it.’

  ‘The crew of the Samphire were there to give evidence in front of a jury who decided that no one was to blame for the accident. The only fault to surface was that the Fanny Buck didn’t show sufficient light – one of the lanterns had run out of oil and the glasses were dirty.’

  ‘The only fault? How can that be? What in God’s name is that all about? Why didn’t she show sufficient light? Who is responsible? Someone must accept the blame. Where is Pa? He will know what to do.’

  ‘Let me finish. Pa has gone out to Whitstable on some errand. He will be back later. The jury praised the intrepidity of Captain Bennett in particular, and the rest of the crew for saving so many lives that might otherwise have been lost.’

  The words didn’t touch her. Yes, they had done their best, but Arvin was dead. Had he really expired for the lack of a lantern?

  ‘It sounds as though everything is settled, but I don’t think that is the end of it,’ Eleanor said. ‘Pa doesn’t think so either. He is like a dog worrying at a bone.’

  ‘He is sad about—’ His name caught in Violet’s throat and brought fresh tears to her eyes. ‘He thought of him as a son.’

  ‘I know, and although it took me some time to get used to him, I thought of him as a brother.’ Violet gave her a handkerchief from the drawer beside her, and Eleanor blew her nose. ‘I’ll send May up with some hot water, so you can wash.’

  ‘May? She is here?’ Violet was surprised because she and Arvin had left her looking after their house at East Cliff while they were away.

  ‘Pa sent for her. He let our housekeeper go last week.’

  ‘Mrs Garling? Why?’

  ‘He said we didn’t need her, but I think he made the decision due to lack of funds. Shall we go to church to pray for Mr Brooke? Perhaps you’d feel better if you took some air.’

  ‘I can’t bear to see the pitying looks on people’s faces.’

  ‘They have the best of intentions – everyone is hoping for the matter to be concluded quickly for your sake. Perhaps you’d like to sit with Mama for a while instead? It would be a favour to me.’

  ‘Of course,’ Violet said. ‘Thank you, Eleanor.’

  She took Mama out on to the balcony, making sure she was comfortable on the chair that Wilson put out for her. Her mother didn’t utter a word, and Violet was grateful to be left quietly with her thoughts. Whenever she heard the bell ring, she was on tenterhooks, still half expecting somebody to announce that her husband had been found alive and her tears had been for nothing, but the longer time went on, the more likely it seemed that he had gone for ever.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dead Reckoning

  Violet spent the Saturday and Sunday quietly at home with the Rayfields, declining to attend the service when the Reverend Green was due to honour Arvin’s memory. She slept fitfully that night. Each time she woke, she remembered that Arvin had gone, and she was overcome with a fresh wave of nausea and grief. Eventually Monday dawned, heralded by a knock on the door.

  ‘Yes?’ She sat up and rubbed her eyes as May came into the room.

  ‘I’m sorry for disturbing you at this early hour.’ May brought a ewer of hot water and placed it on the washstand. ‘Your father requests your company in his study within the half-hour, dressed warmly ready to go out.’

  Violet sighed. ‘What for? I have no desire to leave the house – I’m coming down with a chill.’

  ‘I’m just the messenger, missus.’ May looked flustered. ‘What shall I tell ’im?’

  ‘Let him know I’ll be down soon.’

  ‘Would you like me to bring you breakfast?’

  ‘No, thank you.’ She couldn’t eat a thing, she thought, hearin
g Ottilie stir as the maid closed the door.

  ‘I wonder what Pa wants to see you about,’ Ottilie said, from under the covers.

  ‘I’ll let you know later.’ Violet assumed that it was about the arrangements for her future. Someone had to pay the bills until Arvin’s will had been dealt with by the executors. Slowly, she got up then washed and brushed her hair. She put on a second layer of stockings under her mourning dress and petticoats, before she went downstairs to find Pa waiting not in the study, but in the hall, dressed in his coat, scarf and hat, and carrying his silver-topped ebony cane and a small leather bag.

  ‘Ah, there you are. Thank you for humouring me at this early hour.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Violet put on her crape bonnet and veil, and black kid gloves. ‘Are we going to see the solicitor?’

  ‘Not yet. This is more urgent – I’m sorry in advance for upsetting you anew, but I need your help to identify precisely where you saw Arvin disappear. I have a boat ready and waiting at the pier.’

  Fresh tears pricked at her eyelids as she glanced at her reflection in the mirror – she looked drawn, and older than her years, her brow furrowed and the corners of her mouth turned down. What was the point of Pa’s quest? A body would be long gone, carried away by the currents in the Channel, and she could hardly remember where they were when it had been pitch-black.

  The events of that night flashed before her eyes: the sensation of nausea and the stench of the tar and bilge; the cold seeping through her flesh and deep into her bones; the fear and panic as the boat crashed into the Samphire; the shouts and screams; the sight of the drowned man and the utter despair as Arvin’s head disappeared beneath the black water one last time. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go back.

  ‘Pa, don’t ask me to go on a boat. I couldn’t possibly,’ she said, trembling.

  ‘I need you to do this – for my sake as well as yours, dear Violet. I can’t rest until we find your husband, God rest his soul.’ His voice broke. ‘I’m finding the sorrow hard to bear, but it must be much worse for you. I’m haunted by the fact that I encouraged this marriage.’

  She reached out for her father’s hand. ‘I beg you not to torment yourself over it. It was God’s will. I find that difficult to accept, but I have to, or I will never find peace.’

  ‘Then you will join me today and put this all to rest.’ Her father’s eyes were wide in entreaty. ‘I will be on that boat with you.’

  ‘I wouldn’t refuse your request without good reason – you know that. I would rather die than—’

  ‘You have always been a dutiful daughter,’ Pa interrupted. ‘You are naturally disposed to do the right thing. Please, don’t go against your instinct on this occasion when there is so much at stake – your peace of mind, if nothing else.’

  She hesitated for a moment, picking a stray hair from the lapel of his coat. If they found him, it would put a stop to the dreams where he came back to her, alive and kicking as though nothing had happened. She would know for certain that he had perished, and in a strange and unwelcome way, it would put her mind at rest. She would be able to mourn him properly.

  ‘I will do my duty to my husband, and come with you to look for him,’ she decided. ‘Let us make haste – the sooner it’s over with the better.’

  ‘Thank you. Take my arm.’

  They hurried on foot along the streets to Admiralty Pier, passing beside the railway line where the mail train from London was in early, exhaling black smoke while its passengers disembarked. The porters were bustling around unloading goods from the guard’s van while a tall gentleman in uniform stood watching, with a whistle dangling from a cord around his neck.

  ‘I know the chances of finding him are small, but I’m very grateful to you for not giving up hope,’ she said, trying to keep up as her father strode past where one of the steam packets was moored, awaiting her passengers.

  ‘We must pray for a favourable outcome. Ah, there is our hire for the day.’ Her father pointed to a herring boat that was tied up further along the pier.

  ‘Oh?’ The sight of it changed her mind about the wisdom of her decision. She felt sick at the notion of bobbing up and down on the water in a small boat stinking of fish, because she could smell it already, even though the deck, glistening in the pale winter sun, had been scrubbed down. ‘I can’t,’ she said, quivering with fear. ‘Don’t make me do this.’

  ‘Don’t let me down,’ Pa said, sounding irritated.

  ‘It is such a tiny boat compared with the Samphire … Why can’t you show me some compassion? I am afraid this is another accident waiting to happen. My husband is missing after the incident with the Fanny Buck. The Dover Belle was lost with all hands. I will not risk my life on some wild goose chase across the Channel, because that’s what it is.’ She gestured towards the sea. ‘How will we ever find him in all this water?’

  Pa’s eyes flashed with frustration. ‘You will come with me. I need you to show me where Arvin fell into the sea.’

  She stared at him in disbelief. ‘How can I? It was dark and chaotic.’

  ‘I’m sure that when we’re out there, something will jog your memory.’

  Violet couldn’t understand why her father was being so insistent. Arvin’s passing – because she was sure he had drowned – had affected him deeply, turning him into a raving lunatic.

  ‘Is everything all right, Mrs Brooke?’

  She turned at the sound of a familiar voice. William – dear William, who had risked his life trying to save Arvin – had appeared at her side, dressed for the weather in a sou’wester, long oilcloth coat and boots.

  ‘Yes, yes, all is well, thank you,’ she said, even though it wasn’t.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Noble,’ Pa said smoothly. ‘You are ready to join us on our expedition?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Rayfield,’ William said stiffly.

  Violet found that she couldn’t read his expression. She wondered what he was thinking. How much had he heard of her father’s conversation? How had her father managed to persuade him to join them on this expedition after what had passed between them with the loss of the Dover Belle?

  ‘I came down here this morning ready to tell you that I wasn’t joining you on this fool’s errand after all, seeing how you bullied me into it, but’ – he gazed at Violet with tenderness – ‘I’ve changed my mind.’

  ‘You don’t have to come,’ she said. ‘You are under absolutely no obligation.’

  ‘Violet, you heard what Mr Noble said,’ Pa interrupted. ‘He has decided to join us.’

  ‘That’s right,’ William said, ‘and nothing will stop me now.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, knowing that she would have William to protect her. If there was any problem with the boat, he would know what to do.

  ‘Mrs Brooke was just saying how nervous she is of the water,’ Pa said more cheerfully. ‘Perhaps she will be reassured now she knows that you are to accompany us on this mission. Let us waste no more time.’

  Reluctantly, with heavy limbs and a leaden heart, Violet made her way to the herring boat where a small group of men were waiting for them.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Rayfield,’ one of them said.

  ‘I’m very grateful for the loan of your boat, Captain Merriweather,’ her father said. ‘Allow me to introduce you to my daughter, Mrs Brooke, who will be accompanying us.’

  ‘It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, but it isn’t wise for a woman to come aboard. You would have your daughter spend a day in the cold with no comforts?’

  ‘I have commissioned this boat and her crew, therefore I shall invite anyone I like,’ her father said. ‘Don’t waste any more of my time – I’m paying for a full day.’

  ‘Very well, sir. Welcome aboard. Mrs Brooke, allow me.’ The captain helped Violet on to the boat. Her father and William followed.

  ‘I’ve been given the coordinates of the place where the Fanny Buck hit the Samphire, but the latter would have drifted some distance after the impa
ct,’ her father said. ‘I’ve made some calculations based on the speed and direction of the wind and currents to pinpoint the exact location where Mr Brooke was last seen, but I can’t be sure.’

  ‘You think you’re an expert in dead reckoning then, sir?’ the captain said. ‘Leave it to me – that’s what you’re paying me for. We’ll make our way to the Samphire’s last recorded position before the collision, then we’ll take soundings and ask our witnesses where they last saw the unfortunate gentleman.’ The captain began to organise the crew who cast off and started to row the boat away from the pier.

  As the boat caught the swell, it rocked, and Violet’s heart began to race, remembering how the Samphire had been caught up by the waves as she’d drifted on the sea, on that fateful night.

  The boat entered the Channel, where the sailors in their caps, navy woollen ganseys and wide-bottomed trousers hoisted the sails to take advantage of a brisk wind.

  ‘Mrs Brooke’ – William walked up beside her as she stood on the deck, frozen with fear – ‘I wish we were meeting in better circumstances.’

  She nodded in agreement.

  ‘Come and sit down.’ He caught her by the arm. ‘You aren’t well?’

  ‘The motion of the sea makes me feel sick, and I’m scared,’ she admitted, as he gently led her to a bench where they sat down side by side.

  ‘It isn’t surprising that you’re worried about being back on the water, but I can assure you that all will be well on this occasion – Merriweather is an experienced master. I used to find that it helped to keep your eyes on a fixed point like the white cliffs.’

  ‘Did you used to suffer from seasickness, then?’ she asked, surprised.

  He nodded, a half-smile on his lips.

  ‘I haven’t had the chance to thank you for what you did … You risked your life.’

  ‘I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I did what I could, but—’ He shrugged. ‘The sea is a cruel mistress at times. She looks benign, even kindly, then turns quickly to spite.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I admire your bravery too. You were very kind to the other young lady in her hour of need. You know that her governess didn’t—’