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Part 30
Liz returned to her room, making no objection. She felt very weak, and her fever was still as bad as it had been before, even if she had wanted Mrs Charles and William to believe that she was feeling better. The only reason for her getting up had been that she had wanted to see him once again before he left her...she did not know what she had expected from such a meeting, but she had certainly got more than she had wished for - and even though she was feeling poorly at the moment, she could not help being happy at the same time.
When she had heard the doorbell, she had known that it was William who had come to take his leave, and she had got up to make herself presentable, all the time fearing that Mrs Charles or - even worse - Mr Campbell might come into her room and ruin her plans.
Getting dressed took her longer than usual, she had to sit down every now and then because she was overcome with that giddiness she had felt ever since the fever had started. She had not even been able to raise her head, without feeling as if the room was turning, but she had to see William one last time, she had to...
She had already feared that she might be late, that William would have left before she had managed to come downstairs, but approaching the drawing room door, she could hear him talk to Mrs Charles.
Liz was absolutely determined that he should not notice how bad she really felt, and opened the door, smiling and walking towards him as fast as her injured foot allowed her to go.
His reaction on seeing her made her happy. She could see that he was astonished, although he hid this feeling at once and gave her his radiant smile instead. How she loved him when he looked at her like that!
Lying in her bed now, Liz recalled every single moment of that last meeting. He had been so gentle, and when she remembered how he had dried her tears...no one had ever been allowed to touch her face, not even her own brother and sister had done that before. There had been something about the way he had talked to her, and the things he had said. Even if Liz had not been in love with him before, she would be in love now, and she felt certain that he loved her, too.
"Why does he have to go," she said to herself, in a tearful voice. She wanted to cry - but then she remembered how he had said, "Do not cry, Elizabeth, not because of me..." and decided to fight back her tears. No, she would not disappoint him in any way.
Am I going to spend my whole life thinking of those five minutes with William Price, she thought.
No, he would come back, he had promised it...but then there were things that might prevent his coming back altogether. Why could she not have fallen in love with someone whose profession was less dangerous - a tradesman - a farmer - a lawyer - anyone but a sailor!
This is so very much like you, Liz; you always pick the trickiest tasks for yourself!
Well, she'd better prepare herself for William's long absence, and she'd better get used to it.
"You would not marry a sailor, I suppose," he had said once, and Liz regretted that she had not said, "Of course I would, if he asked me," in reply. But then - she had not been in love with him then...or so she thought. She did not exactly know when this feeling had started, but she knew one thing - it would never end.
"I only hope that this cannot be applied to my headache, too, " she muttered to herself.
Then the door opened, and Mr Campbell came into the room with Sarah, trying to hold back a smile, and looking at her sternly.
"Miss Martin! I think I told you to stay in bed, did I not?"
"Did Will...Mr Price tell you I was up, then?"
"No, he did not, but Mrs Charles has told me. Miss Martin, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, at least. Here I am, doing my best to help you, and there you are, spoiling the success of all my efforts within five minutes of getting up. Anyway - knowing how long ladies take to get dressed, I suppose it was more than five minutes, am I right?" He looked into her eyes. "Am I right, Miss Martin? Do not lie to me, it is no use."
Liz had to smile against her will. "You are right, Mr Campbell, but...I just had to..."
"Nonsense, Miss Martin. Believe me, dying for love is not half as romantic as one might think."
"Who said I was in love?"
Campbell suppressed a grin. "Nobody, Miss Martin, calm yourself. Promise me to keep strictly to my orders, though, or I'll have to drown you in laudanum to keep you in your bed."
"I promise, Mr Campbell."
"Don't promise anything you won't keep, Miss Martin," he said, checking on her pulse and temperature. "There, I knew it! Your fever is worse than ever, and your pulse - the less said about it the better. Miss Martin, matters are serious, and you must be careful. No more getting up, do you hear? I'm not saying this to ruin your day, I'm saying this for your own good."
Liz nodded. Her headache had got worse now. She did not want to argue any more, all she needed now was peace and quiet and sleep...lots of sleep.
When Campbell descended the stairs, he saw that visitors had arrived in the meantime, a young couple. The gentleman was tall and dark-haired, and elegantly dressed. The lady was beautiful, with dark hair and eyes and regular features. Her calm manner and ladylike behaviour impressed Campbell.
Mrs Charles introduced him to her visitors.
"Catherine, this is Mr Campbell, the gentleman Elizabeth has probably told you about. He is married with one of your school friends, a Miss...Harrison, was it not? Mr Campbell, this is Mrs Mason, Miss Martin's sister, and her husband, Mr George Mason."
Mrs Mason curtsied and gave him a friendly smile. "I have already been curious to make your acquaintance, Mr Campbell. How is your wife? I have not seen her since I left Mrs Goddard's school."
Her voice was soft, like velvet. Miss Martin had not exaggerated when she had described her sister as a beauty.
"My wife is very well, thank you Mrs Mason. She will be delighted to hear that you are here in Cranston."
"I will visit her as soon as possible, Mr Campbell. In the meantime, please be so good as to give my regards to her."
Campbell bowed and thanked her on behalf of his wife.
Mrs Mason turned to Mrs Charles. "But where is Liz, Mrs Charles? Did she not expect us?"
"I am afraid I have bad news for you, Catherine," Mrs Charles answered. "Elizabeth is ill, that is the reason why Mr Campbell is here."
"Ill? Good heavens, what is wrong with her?" She turned to Campbell and looked at him with big, frightened eyes. " It is nothing dangerous, I hope?"
"Not very dangerous, Mrs Mason, if your sister can be prevailed on keeping to her bed, that is."
"That might be a problem," was Mr Mason's dry remark. "I bet she already tried to get up, did she not?"
"She did, yes."
"She would not be Liz Martin if she had not tried." Mr Mason looked at his wife cheerfully and put his arm around her shoulder. "Do not worry too much, dearest, you know Liz. She is a fighter, she will get better soon."
"How is she at the moment, Mr Campbell?" Mrs Mason asked.
"She has fever, Mrs Mason, and seems to be very tired. No wonder, after this afternoon's escapade. You should have prevented it, Mrs Charles."
"I know, Mr Campbell, but I had no idea...but now Catherine will help me to take care of her, won't you, Catherine?"
"Certainly, Mrs Charles."
"But here we are, in the hallway, I really am the worst hostess in the world," Mrs Charles went on and showed them into the drawing room.
Campbell stayed ten more minutes, talking to Mr and Mrs Mason, and felt that Elizabeth Martin was well taken care of now. He liked both visitors exceedingly - Mr Mason was a perfectly amiable gentleman, clever, and an amusing conversation partner.
Mrs Mason - well, if he had not been a married man, and she had not been married either, he might have been in real danger of falling in love with her. As it was, he just enjoyed her company and admired her for her calm, ladylike ways.
When Campbell arrived back home, another visitor was waiting for him: Mr Barrie. He had come to inform Campbell and William about the latest results of his investigations.
"I knew that Mr Price would not be here for long any more, so I wanted to meet you tonight, if you do not mind."
"Not at all, Mr Barrie," Campbell answered, and William added, "You are lucky to find me here still. If I had kept to my original plans I would already be gone."
"First of all, I would like to thank both of you for your help. I do not think I would have been so successful without your assistance."
"There is no need to thank me, Mr Barrie," William answered. "All I did was write a few letters, and talk to people I would probably have met anyway. It is just that I was interested in the case - and had not much else to do."
"Your help has been invaluable, Mr Price. You gave me a few important hints. And as to you, Mr Campbell - your narrative of what has happened the night my nephew died was of great use, too. Not to mention your medical help last night."
Campbell smiled. "Speaking of medical help - how is your arm?"
"Excellent, really. It hardly hurts any more - you have done brilliant work."
"Now it is my turn to say thank you," Campbell said, smiling, and got up to fill some glasses with wine for his guests. "But tell me - have you found out what exactly happened? This was your intention, after all, was it not?"
"True, and I have been successful as to that - though I must say now that I'd rather not know it. It is a revolting business..." Mr Barrie accepted the glass of wine with a grateful smile and took a mouthful before he went on.
"Do you want to know it?"
"Of course I do, Mr Barrie, after all I want to know in how far my suspicions are true."
"Well, I spent most of the afternoon with Carrick, and he has finally admitted everything. He has killed Charles Maynard."
"But why?" William asked.
"For several reasons. My suspicion was roused when I received a letter from the Customs in Portsmouth, informing me that a certain Mr Neil Carrick, currently stationed in Cranston, Dorset, has been involved in some smuggling business in Bournemouth years ago and that there are hints as to his being back in this business now. What I did not know is that my nephew has found out something about the smuggling here, too, only that he trusted the wrong people.
He had found out that the vicar had something to do with it - don't ask me how, I do not know, and Carrick does not know either. He told Carrick about his suspicions, and Carrick promised him to investigate the case. Instead, he spoke to Adams to tell him that Charles had found out about the smuggling and asked Adams what he was to do. Adams was the man who did all the planning, one could say that he was the gang leader."
William nodded. "A perfect man for this task, if you ask me. Who would suspect a clergyman?"
"Adams said that it was important that neither he nor Searle were to be suspected in any way, but that there was no other solution to the problem than my nephew's death. So this is what Adams has planned, and Carrick has carried out:
My nephew received an anonymous letter, in which someone accused the innkeeper of the Anchor of storing smuggled brandy and other goods in his cellars. This letter had been written by Carrick, for the sole purpose of luring my nephew into those cellars without raising suspicion. My nephew told Carrick about the letter, who acted just as he ought: he offered to go with him and check on the Anchor's cellars the following night, as he was not supposed to go by himself. In the meantime, Adams accepted your wife's invitation to dinner, Campbell - after all, who could be a more valuable witness than the surgeon, who could testify that Mr Adams was in his house while the murder had happened?"
"Disgusting," Campbell murmured. "While Maynard was murdered, one of the murderers was right here."
"This was, of course, just in case that the jury at the inquest would pass a verdict of murder, but they were determined to make it look like an accident. Carrick and my nephew went to the Anchor Inn, and the innkeeper let them go into the cellars. Carrick swore that the innkeeper did not know about his plans until he had carried them out, and was easily frightened into testifying in favour of the accident theory afterwards. In the cellars, Carrick took my nephew's pistol from him and hit him on his head with it - several times. I think you know what happened next."
"This is why Maynard's pistol could not be found! Carrick must have taken it with him!" William exclaimed.
"Carrick told the innkeeper to send for me, as an accident had happened, and told him that if he told anyone of his being there he would probably end up like the man in his cellar," Campbell said, grimly.
"And when you arrived at the Anchor, the innkeeper and the men who had been there all said that Maynard had fallen down the stairs, just as Carrick had instructed them to do," William said. "Too bad for them that you were not fooled so easily."
"Thank you, Price, this compliment is just what I needed." Campbell emptied his glass.
"So far for the first murder," Mr Barrie continued. "After some time, they suspected that you and your friend Mr Price might do some research - and that you might be on the right track. Carrick told me that you had told him to keep a close watch on the beach, that you knew that smugglers were going to land contraband there. This time, it was Searle who was trying to keep you away. He invited you to a dinner party at his house - or, he asked his sister to invite you, to be precise."
"So the whole dinner party at the Searle's house was to no other purpose than keeping us out of harm's way?" William asked.
"No other purpose, no. Searle was always advocating a more ... gentleman-like approach to the whole business. He did not approve of Adams and Carrick's methods. This is why he died in the end."
"Searle was shot by them?" Campbell asked.
"Carrick says yes. He says there has been an argument concerning a certain Miss Martin - Adams was plotting another "accident", or so Carrick said. Searle was determined to prevent it - there was a quarrel, and Searle said that he would not tolerate such methods any longer, and that he would take action against Adams and Carrick if Miss Martin was harmed in any way. This is why he was shot."
William felt sick, thinking of what "accident" might have happened to Elizabeth. Those villains were capable of anything.
"The reason why Carrick killed my nephew was that Carrick knew he would be ruined if Charles found out. There would be no smuggling any more - and he would also be dismissed, if not hanged, which is just what will happen to him soon."
"I cannot say I feel sorry for him," Campbell said. "What about Adams?"
"That man keeps silent, whatever we ask him, but I guess he will own up too, as soon as we confront him with Carrick's testimony." Mr Barrie rose. "It is time for me to leave now, I have trespassed on your time for long enough. Again, thank you for your help, and have a safe journey, Mr Price."
He took leave of William and Campbell and went out. William turned to his friend.
"Campbell?"
"Yes?"
"If you ever happen to move away from Cranston, will you promise me one thing?"
"Sure, what is it?"
"Do not go to another nice and quiet place like this. I cannot endure so much peace and quiet, you know. Going aboard again will be the perfect relaxation now in comparison to my leave."
Campbell laughed. "I promise, Price. If I happen to move away from Cranston, I shall move to another peaceful and quiet place...like Portsmouth."
Part 31
At five o'clock the next morning, William got up. Campbell was to breakfast with him and to see him off. First, William had protested, he had not wished his friend to get up so early on his account.
"You need your sleep, after the lot of work you have had in the last few days," he had said, but Campbell had not wanted to hear of it.
"I do not know when we shall meet again," he had said, "and therefore I am going to spend as much time in your company as possible. Besides, I do not want you to be left all to yourself on your last morning here. Leaving a place without at least someone to say goodbye to is not very pleasant."
William had already taken leave of Mrs Campbell the evening before, and she had been so agreeable, so concerned about him, that William had started to wonder if this was really the same woman he had got to know during his stay in Cranston. Perhaps this was the woman Campbell had married? But what had made her change? At least now he could understand what Mrs Campbell must have been like before her marriage. She had the ability to be agreeable, and one had to admit that she was pretty, too, so this must have been Campbell's reason for falling in love with her.
Let's only hope that she is like this more often, William thought. He knew Campbell, and he knew that he was very fond of his wife, but if she acted like this much longer she would destroy every gentle feeling her husband might have for her.
During breakfast, the two men did not talk much. William was too absorbed in his own thoughts, and Campbell, noticing this, did not bother him with questions.
Finally William sighed and said, "Campbell, will you do me a favour?"
"Certainly, anything you wish."
"Take care of Miss Martin, will you? I have thought of her a great deal, and I hate to leave her behind...I would be much more at ease if I knew that someone is taking good care of her. Will you do this for me - at least as long as she is in Cranston?"
"I will, Price, don't worry. By the way, her sister and brother-in-law arrived yesterday evening, so I suppose they will care for her, too."
"How is she? Her getting up has done her no harm, I hope?"
Campbell shrugged his shoulders. "We will see. It will at least delay her recovery, I think."
"Is there any danger?"
Campbell felt that it was not the best idea to tell his friend about the danger Miss Martin was in. Her fever had worried him. But there was nothing Price could do about it, and he needed a clear mind for his work.
"I do not think so, no. She will get better, I am sure."
"Good," William said with a sigh of relief. "If there is any news concerning her - good or bad - will you send me a message?"
"What for?"
"Campbell, please. I need to know if she is getting better or not, or I'll go mad. I will go mad if she doesn't, that's for sure, but I have to know. If it hadn't been for her illness, Campbell, I'd have asked her to marry me, but considering the circumstances I thought it would be better to wait. As far as I am concerned, I am determined - if she will have me, that is. So, will you let me know everything that has to do with her?"
Campbell nodded. "Very well. I'll send you a letter to Plymouth as soon as I have any news, I promise."
William gave him a grateful smile. "I knew I could rely on you," he said.
Half an hour later, William was gone. Before he had got into the coach, he had once more asked Campbell to take good care of Elizabeth and to send him word if anything happened to her.
Campbell went back to his house, and was just about to enter the house, when a boy came running up to him, asking him to come along, his father had had an accident. Campbell sighed. Everything was back to normal, it seemed.
For three days, Liz did nothing but sleep. The distress and the fever were getting the better of her, and in the few moments she woke up she did not really notice what was going on around her. Mrs Charles and Cathy were taking turns in sitting up with her, and George had sent a letter to Robert to prepare him for bad news, by mentioning "Elizabeth was a bit feverish". Knowing that Mrs Martin would be exceedingly worried even by a slight hint like this, he thought it wiser not to let her know the whole truth about Liz's state until it was really necessary.
Mr Campbell came to see her as often as his duties allowed him to do so, and exerted himself considerably. After all, he had promised his friend to take good care of Miss Martin, and he was determined to keep his promise.
When Liz woke up after three days, something was different. For the first time, she was conscious of what was going on around her, and her headache was gone.
"She is waking up, I think," she heard someone say, and she recognised the voice.
"Cathy," he said, smiling happily.
She saw her sister bending over her, looking at her and smiling.
"Yes, I am here, Liz. How are you?"
"Fine, I think..." Liz answered vaguely. "What's the time?"
"The time?"
"I think I must have slept some time..."
Cathy laughed. "Oh yes, you have. Well, it is three o'clock in the afternoon, dear."
Liz sat up in her bed. "Three o'clock? Good heavens, what will everyone think of me! I need to get up!"
"Don't you dare, Miss Martin," someone said. Liz turned into the direction where the voice had come from and recognised Mr Campbell.
"Mr Campbell..."
"I tell you one thing, Miss Martin, you need to stay right where you are. You're not going to get up before I permit you to do so."
He came over to her to check on her pulse and temperature.
"Much better, Miss Martin, you are doing very well, but you have to be careful."
Liz nodded. It was hard for her to obey Mr Campbell's orders, but she still felt weak and so she thought that her bed was, after all, the best place to be.
"Is George here, too," she asked her sister.
Cathy nodded. "He will be glad to hear that you are better, Liz. We have been worried about you, you know."
Liz smiled. "You know the saying that nothing bad ever happens to bad people?"
"I do, but..."
"Well, why did you worry then?"
Cathy laughed and turned to Mr Campbell. "I think she is getting better rapidly, Mr Campbell. She is already able to make fun of herself."
Campbell laughed, too. "If you do not mind, ladies, I will leave you now. I suppose my wife will think I am a stranger, she has not seen me for ages. Besides, I have an important letter to write."
William had gone ashore on duty and was just walking along the quay in Plymouth, when a messenger on horseback hailed him.
"Can you tell me where I can find the "Achilles", sir? I have an express letter for one of the officers."
"You can give the message to me, I can pass it on to him. Whose is the message?"
The young man took a letter out of his pocket and read the directions.
"A Mr William Price, sir."
William went pale. An express hardly ever meant good news.
"I am William Price."
The messenger grinned. "That's what I call luck," he said. "Of all the sailors in Plymouth I am to meet the right man." He handed the letter to William and rode off after being paid.
William looked at the directions. He knew the handwriting - it was Campbell's, just as he had feared. He was eager to read the letter, but at the same time he feared the news it might contain. Besides, he did not want to read the letter here, among all those people - no, he would rather wait until he had a chance of being alone.
He put the letter into his pocket, and concentrated on the tasks he had to perform. Whatever your private grievances may be - duty is duty, Harville had once said to him, and had pointed out that there was no better way to overcome sorrow than work. Now William found out how true that had been. It was amazing what one could do in spite of a broken heart.
Finally, he had the chance of reading the letter, and was relieved. The news it contained was not as bad as he had feared, on the contrary, Campbell told him that Miss Martin was doing well, that there was no doubt of her recovery, and the only reason why he had sent this letter by express had been that he had not been sure if the letter might be in time to reach him before William left. William could not help but smile.
This is so typical, he thought. You always fear the worst, and then the best happens. Why can't you be a bit more optimistic sometimes?
"Good news, sir?" someone said to him.
William turned around and looked into the smiling face of Midshipman O'Grady, a young man eighteen years of age, who had reminded William of his own brother and therefore had already gained his good will. O'Grady had a friendly, blunt nature, and was always eager to be of use.
"The best news, O'Grady," he replied.
"Glad to hear it, sir, you did look a bit troubled before, if I may mention it. Captain Murdoch wants to speak to you, sir."
"Thank you, O'Grady, I'll be there right away."
While William was going to meet the captain, he felt that nothing could go wrong any more. Elizabeth was getting well again, nothing else mattered. He would write a letter to Campbell before they would leave, asking to keep him informed, but not to send any more express letters. One nasty shock had been enough.
Part 32
Dear friend,
I am relieved to read the good news concerning Miss Martin. I was rather shocked when I received your letter - I was convinced that express letters could only contain bad news, and I have to admit my knees went weak at first, before I had an opportunity to read it.
Please tell Miss Martin that I send my best wishes, and that I hope to meet her again in good health when I return to England.
It seems as if the journey will not take us as long as I have thought before, our purpose is to take some provisions and officers to the Army stations in Gibraltar and Malta. I do not expect it to take that long, Captain Murdoch said something about four or five months...perhaps I shall be able to spend Christmas at home, although I still do not dare thinking of it. The prospect is too tempting, and I shall only believe my luck when I see it.
I am looking forward to going to the Mediterranean, you know how fond I have always been of Spain and Italy - they had their charms even in wartime.
Campbell grinned. It had always been fun to go ashore with Price, he remembered it well. He did not know how Price had done it, but he had always been able to make friends out of the most stubborn and hostile locals, by addressing them in a respectful way and even taking trouble in speaking their own language - or at least learning to speak it.
The company on the "Achilles" are a delightful set of people. I did not expect much in the beginning, but there are some excellent men aboard with me. Captain Murdoch and I get along with each other pretty well. He is a North Country man, from Yorkshire, and only two years older than I am. He only speaks if he has to, but if he does, he has a fine sense of humour and has a great deal to say. Just the sort of man to be friends with.
There is also a young man who reminds me of my brother Sam - Midshipman O'Grady; he is about Sam's age.
The only flaw is Admiral Crawford, I do not like him too much, but I owe him gratitude, and will do my best to make a good impression on him. After all, I want to advance as fast as possible, and he has enough influence to help me there.
True - it would not be very wise to have Admiral Crawford against him. Price's career would suffer from it immensely.
I hope things are well in Cranston. How is Miss Searle? I feel strong sympathy for her and sincerely hope that she is not suffering too much. Is she going to stay in Cranston, or is she going to London with her aunt and uncle?
Campbell sighed. Miss Searle.... Her aunt and uncle had arrived, and they were doing their best to cheer her up and to be of assistance, but she refused to be touched by their efforts. She treated them with civility, but that was all. Campbell hoped that this would change once she had recovered. Miss Searle deserved a bit of happiness, at last.
Please give my regards to all my acquaintance in Cranston, especially your wife and Mrs Charles - and Miss Martin, most of all. I wish I could write her, too, but it would be considered highly improper if I did. I shall depend on you to let her know everything concerning me, if she cares to hear it, that is.
"Of course she does," Campbell said aloud.
"What did you say," his wife asked, looking at him curiously.
"Oh, nothing, dear. Price sends his regards, by the way."
"The letter is from Mr Price? How wonderful! He is well, I hope?"
"Very well, yes."
Campbell read on.
When you receive this letter, I will already be at sea, I suppose, but I shall send you a letter from Gibraltar. If you have any news for me, I shall be glad to hear from you.
Meanwhile, I wish you all the best, and thank you again for your hospitality and support in the past weeks.
Yours etc.,
W. Price
Campbell put the letter aside. He was glad to hear that Price was well, and he was also glad to hear that the cruise he had dreaded so much would not last as long as he had thought at first. It was true, there could still be obstacles, but they could not defer Price's return for very long, Campbell was sure of that, and he was pleased about it, on account of Price and Miss Martin. He had grown to like Miss Martin very much, and he was sure that she would be the right woman to make Price happy.
When he went to see her later that day, he told her everything Price had mentioned in his letter, and saw his suspicions confirmed. She was listening to the news with such eagerness, that there could be no doubt as to her affection for his friend. She asked a lot of questions, too, like, "Do you know Captain Murdoch? What sort of man is he? Do you think Mr Price will be back home by Christmas? Is it dangerous to sail to the Mediterranean? Where exactly is Malta?", and Campbell did his best to answer all of them. He even found an atlas and showed her the route the "Achilles" was most likely to take, and told her everything he knew about Gibraltar, where he had already been, and Malta, although he did not know much about that place.
Her lively interest also convinced him that she was, at last, getting better, and he allowed her to get up the next day, provided that she stayed in the house and would go back to bed as soon as she felt weak.
Meanwhile, Mrs Mason had paid her long promised visit to Mrs Campbell, and Mrs Campbell was eager to return that visit as soon as possible. So she joined her husband when he went to check on Miss Martin the following day.
They were shown into Mrs Charles' drawing room, and found the ladies there. Liz was sitting next to the fireplace, with a plaid arranged around her legs and a shawl around her shoulder. They all greeted Mr and Mrs Campbell cordially, and Mrs Campbell seated herself next to Mrs Mason to talk with her.
Liz sat there, talking to Mr Campbell, and enjoying herself. It had been a long time since she had been able to get into company, and her being up to do so showed her that she was getting better, at last. She was in high spirits, and laughed a great deal.
Then she grew more earnest and said, "Do you think Emily will come to see me once? She said she did not think we might meet any more, but then I still hope we will. She has been such a good friend. Will you tell her I would like to see her, Mr Campbell?"
Campbell assured her that he would tell Miss Searle about her wish, when his wife exclaimed, "Miss Searle won't have much time to pay any visits, now that her brother is dead she will have other things to worry about."
Liz looked at Mr Campbell's face and knew that Mrs Campbell had said the truth. For a moment, she thought she was going to faint.
"Mr Searle is...dead?" she asked, quietly.
Mr Campbell looked at her, and nodded, gravely.
"I am sorry, Miss Martin, I did not want you to find out about it like this..." With these words, he gave his wife a furious look. "...but now, I cannot keep the news from you any more."
"But how...did it happen?" she said, with trembling lips and a tearful voice.
"He died the same night when you fell ill, Miss Martin."
"I did not ask when, Mr Campbell, I wanted to know how it happened."
"He was shot, Miss Martin." He saw that her hands started to tremble; she was obviously in a state of shock.
"Mrs Charles," he said, "I think it will be better if you take Miss Martin to her room now."
Both Mrs Charles and Mrs Mason rose, and assisted Liz to her room, while Mr and Mrs Campbell were left behind.
"I...I am sorry," Mrs Campbell stammered. "I didn't think..."
"That's right," he snapped. "You didn't think."
"But...."
"DON'T...just don't say anything now, I don't want to hear it," he said furiously, and left the room to see if Miss Martin was allright.
She was lying in her bed now, and her sister was sitting with her, holding her hand.
"Tell me the whole truth, Mr Campbell," she said.
"Are you sure you want to hear it?" he asked.
She nodded. "I do want to hear it, yes. What happened that night after Mr Searle left his house?"
Campbell sighed. "There was a quarrel, Miss Martin, and during this quarrel he was shot by his accomplices."
"Why did they quarrel, Mr Campbell?"
"I do not know, Miss Martin." He could not tell her the truth about that.
"Why did they quarrel?" She looked into his eyes, and he had to submit to this inquisitive gaze. How could one lie to her, he wondered.
"They quarrelled...because of..."
"Because of me?" Her voice sounded calm, but one could see in her eyes that she was distressed. "The argument was about me, am I right?"
"You are right, Miss Martin."
"I feel so dreadfully guilty for what has happened," she said, with a tearful voice. "It was entirely my fault."
"No, it wasn't, Miss Martin. You had nothing to do with it. There is no reason for you to feel guilty."
"Oh yes, there is. If you only knew how I treated him that afternoon - I hurt him. I did not know then - I did not know that he was on my side, that he wanted to protect me. How am I ever to forgive myself? You should have seen him - he looked as if I had slapped him..."
She broke off, and was silent for a while. "Emily must hate me for it."
"No, she does not, Miss Martin, and I do not think that Mr Searle hated you either. There were no hard feelings towards you on his side."
"How do you know?"
"I know it, Miss Martin, is this not a sufficient answer?"
She nodded. "But tell me one more thing - how long would you have let me believe that he was alive and well?"
"I thought that the news of his death might do you harm, Miss Martin. I wanted to wait until you were well enough to face such a terrible message."
She nodded. "I think you are a better friend than I deserve, Mr Campbell. Mr Searle was a better friend than I deserved, to be sure. Poor Emily! How is she getting on?"
"Her uncle and aunt from London are with her, and they are supporting her as well as they can."
She leaned back in her pillows. "I guess I need some peace and quiet now...thank you for your help, Mr Campbell."
Campbell ate his dinner in silence, and he was determined not to speak to his wife all evening. Her behaviour this afternoon had been the last straw - what had become of the girl he had once loved so much? She had become a thoughtless, selfish woman who had not the slightest regard for anybody's feelings but her own.
He knew that if he started talking to her, he would tell her so, and he would also tell her...no, it was better to remain silent.
"You are very quiet tonight, my dear," she addressed him.
He gave her a long, earnest look, but did not say a word.
"You are not angry with me, just because of this...foolish mistake I made this afternoon? I said I was sorry, didn't I?" she said, smiling.
No answer. He just kept watching her, with that serious expression in his face.
"Will you speak to me when I ask you something," she said, now thoroughly annoyed.
"You want me to answer? Very well then, you asked for it," he said.
"Have you ever - at least once in your life, thought about the possibility that other people might have feelings, too? Has anyone ever told you that you are not the centre of the world, that there are more important things than morning calls and dinner parties? What has become of you, I wonder? Have you always been like that and was I mistaken when I thought you to be a lovely, warm-hearted woman? That is what I thought you to be, that is what you were when I first met you. This is the woman I fell in love with - what has become of her?"
He had spoken in a clear, determined voice, and every word had made her start. Never before had he talked to her like that...
"Eleanor, I have watched you in the past weeks, and I am not happy with what I saw. I thought I could change you by giving you what you wanted - well, most things you wanted, that is. You knew I was not a rich man, you knew I had to work for my living, and you did not mind - at least that is what you said. But whenever I have to leave you to do my work you act as if it was a personal insult to you. If something is not quite as you want it to be, you lament and blame anyone but yourself for it. You keep hurting people, without even noticing or caring about it. Tell me, is that you? Because if it is, I have been mistaken in your character, and I will have to live with my mistake somehow.
If you cannot stand my presence any longer, tell me so, and I will be off to Bristol or Southampton and will go aboard the first merchant ship there. Frankly, Eleanor, if you go on like this you will drive me out of this house, because I cannot stand it any more."
Had his voice sounded angry, Mrs Campbell might have retorted something, but she was not prepared for the extreme sadness in her husband's voice. She looked at him anxiously.
"You want to leave me? But, you cannot..."
"Tell me one good reason why I should stay, just one."
"You cannot go to sea again, consider your health. You will kill yourself if you do."
He gave a bitter laugh. "Would you care? I heard that mourning clothes can look very elegant nowadays."
She started to cry. "Do not talk like that, John, you know I love you!"
He looked at her, doubtingly. "You have not shown it very much lately, Eleanor."
"I am sorry, I really am. Please, do not go! What would I do without you? I will try to change, but you will have to help me..."
Campbell looked at his wife, sitting there, crying, and he felt sorry for having been so harsh. He got up, went towards her and took her in his arms.
"I will," he said, softly. "I know life is not easy with me either, Eleanor, and I am sorry if I have hurt you. It was just...sometimes I had the feeling you did not love me any more, and that was hard, believe me."
She looked at him. "Does that mean you will not leave me?"
He smiled. "No, I won't. Running away won't solve our problems, but we can solve them, if we try. Do you think it is worth while?"
She nodded. "I think it is."
Part 33
The Achilles was now at sea, and William had had the opportunity of getting to know the men aboard the ship.
As he had already written to Campbell, Captain Murdoch and Mr O'Grady were the men with whom he was on the best terms.
He respected Murdoch for his professional skill and fairness. In a way, he reminded him of Captain Harville - although Murdoch was not at all a father figure for him, he was only a few years older than William. This was the second reason why William liked Murdoch. They were nearly the same age, and they had much in common. Like William, Murdoch had to support his family, was diligent and earnest as far as duty was concerned, but not at all disinclined to a joke now and then. Working with Murdoch was a pleasure - he was competent, intelligent, and his judgement was something to rely on.
Midshipman O'Grady had attracted William's attention on the very first day when he had arrived in Plymouth. He had a resemblance to William's brother Sam, who was nearly the same age as O'Grady. This was, of course, not the only reason why William liked him.
He soon found out that O'Grady was a friendly youth, who was ready to learn and who had, somehow, chosen William to be his tutor.
O'Grady was from the Irish town of Cork, and although he did his best to "speak proper language", he sometimes forgot about it and relapsed into his Irish accent, especially if he was excited or angry about something.
He was an imaginative lad, too, a good narrator with remarkable acting talent, and knew an immense number of stories and songs with which he very often entertained his shipmates.
Admiral Crawford had acknowledged William's arrival, but had not spoken much to him since then, except if he had had orders for him. He had given him his nephew's compliments, and William had said what was proper, without being really sincere.
Since the unfortunate affair concerning his sister and his cousin Maria, William did not have a very high opinion of Henry Crawford. He was glad that he had not tried to talk Fanny into marrying Crawford, which was what not only Crawford himself but also Uncle Bertram had wanted him to do. He had at that time thought it best to let Fanny decide for herself, and he had to admit that Fanny had been right in not trusting Crawford too much.
Had William interfered, she might be Mrs Henry Crawford by now - and would probably be unhappy. But how could Crawford be so incredibly stupid to run off with Maria Rushworth, if he had been in love with Fanny Price?
William had never understood it, and now that he was in love himself, he could understand it even less. He would never do a thing that might sink him in Elizabeth's opinion - not for the world.
The Admiral left the business of commanding the ship to Captain Murdoch most of the time, he spent much time in his cabin, and no one really missed him. One had to admit though, that if he took the trouble of coming to quarter-deck and assuming his place there, he was an expert seaman who had to be reckoned with, and one could see that his years of experience had not been in vain.
The Army officers who were on board the "Achilles" were a set of excellent men, and William got on well with them. There was only one exception, a Mr Edward Mason. Even his fellow officers considered him a bore, and so he was.
O'Grady had developed a particular dislike to him and cringed whenever he came near. Mason had a tendency to consider the seamen inferior to him, and had already been warned by his commanding officer, a Colonel Fitzwilliam, not to treat them like servants - a warning he had not taken too seriously. Also, he did not consider their duties important enough that they could not give way to any of his requests at once, and this annoyed the men even more.
William was amused at Mason's behaviour, he seemed to be so convinced of his own importance that William thought he was a perfect victim to be made fun of, and he was sure that his men, especially O'Grady, were already plotting some pranks against him. Well, as long as he did not know anything about it...he would definitely not stop them, provided that no harm was done.
There was one thing that interested William about Mason, though. He had overheard a conversation one day, in which Mason had mentioned that he was from Donwell, in Surrey. Could it be that he was - in any way - related to Elizabeth's sister? Mrs Campbell had referred to Elizabeth's sister as "dear Mrs Mason" once. Of course he did not presume that any sister of Elizabeth's would consider marrying a man like Edward Mason, and Mr and Mrs Mason were in Cranston, anyway, but maybe he was somehow related to Elizabeth's brother-in-law.
Perhaps he would have the chance of asking him one day? William was eager to hear more about Elizabeth and her family, even though he already knew a great deal from her own description.
Perhaps he ought to warn Mason? No, that man definitely needed to be taught a lesson, no matter who his family might be.
That evening, both army and navy officers were to dine with the admiral, and William took the opportunity to get into conversation with Mr Mason.
"I have heard that you are from Surrey, Mr Mason."
"That is right, Mr Price. The place is called Donwell, about fifteen miles from London. I do not suppose you ever heard of it," Mason answered, with a haughty smile.
"You may not believe it, but I have," William said, and was satisfied with the effect his answer had on Mason. According to his looks, he felt deprived of a chance of lecturing him.
"Indeed? You are the first person I meet who has. How come you are familiar with my neighbourhood?"
William laughed. "I have been so fortunate as to be acquainted with two ladies from Donwell, a Mrs Charles and a Miss Martin. Do you know them?"
Mason coloured, but only for a few moments, then he regained his composure. "I do know them, yes. In fact, our families have been friends with each other for ages. Miss Martin's father was my godfather, you must know, and her sister has married my elder brother."
"Indeed! Well, it's a small world, is it not?" William took a mouthful of wine, watching Mason intently. Something was wrong; something made him feel uncomfortable, that was sure.
"Are you...are you well acquainted with Mrs Charles and Miss Martin?" Mason asked, warily.
"Slightly. I met them in Cranston, when I visited my friend Campbell. You know them better than I do, I dare say."
"I have to admit that I am not as intimate with the Martin family as I used to be, Mr Price. Mr Martin - not my godfather, but Miss Martin's brother - has treated me abominably, and I will not enter his house again until he has apologised. Even if his sister is married with my brother, there are some things I shall never forgive."
Why can't I believe you, Mason? Even if Elizabeth may be biased in favour of her brother, I am sure she would not praise him so highly if he was a disagreeable sort of fellow. There is more to the story than what you tell me - or you are lying to me, but for what purpose?
"I am sorry to hear it, Mr Mason. I think it is a terrible thing if one does not get along with one's relations."
With these words, William would have dropped the topic, as he was not really interested in any private affairs of Mr Mason's, but Mason was determined to make him acquainted with every detail of his misfortune, it appeared. He told him the long, sad story of Mr Martin's dealings with him, which had - or so it seemed - started with Mr Martin's jealousy for his father's affection, and had continued with his jealousy concerning a young lady, a Miss Smith.
"She was very attached to me, I know, but I did not return her fondness. True, she is the sort of girl one likes to look at, and I wouldn't mind - you know what I mean. Perhaps she even would have been persuaded to - at least she was not at all unwilling - well, I'm sure you understand."
William looked at him incredulously. "I think I comprehend perfectly," he said. His voice was freezing cold, but Mason did not seem to notice.
If he talked about Elizabeth in this disrespectful way, I'd have him flogged.
"There has been some misunderstanding, and Mr Martin told me to leave his house at once. I haven't been there very often since - it is entirely Miss Smith's fault. Such an artful woman!"
If you spoke to Mr Martin like you talked to me, there was not much to be misunderstood, Mason, and I don't blame him for kicking you out of his house. He has to be admired for his self-control, actually, for not doing you any more harm than "treating you abominably".
William cast a look across the table, where O'Grady was seated. O'Grady gave him a mischievous smile, winking at him and indicating into the direction of Mr Mason with a nod. So the lads were up to something. William grinned. Perhaps they could do with some assistance?
His opportunity came soon. Mason mentioned that he had been missing one of his shoes that morning, and had found it in the most unusual place.
"It was too far away, I cannot possibly have put it there," he said. "Strange, is it not?"
O'Grady looked at him gravely. "'Tis a bad sign if things start being strange like that," he said.
What is he about, I wonder?
William decided to say nothing at the moment but to watch the scene for a while. He noticed that O'Grady gave him a wink, before asking, "Did that happen more often, Mr Mason?"
William leaned back, taking another sip of his wine, and watching. He had some idea now as to what O'Grady was up to, and was getting ready to take part as soon as it was necessary. This looked like fun. William cast a glance at Admiral Crawford, Captain Murdoch and Colonel Fitzwilliam, who were still engaged in their own conversation and had not yet noticed what was threatening Mr Mason. He was in severe danger of having his leg pulled.
"Well, now that you mention it...things have started to go missing, but nothing serious really. I always found them again, but never in the place where I had expected them to be."
O'Grady nodded solemnly. "That's how it always starts, doesn't it, Mr Price, sir?"
William admired O'Grady for his acting talent. "Indeed, O'Grady, that's how it always starts."
He would just join the fun, by confirming everything that O'Grady said, and only hoped that his expression would not betray the joke too early.
Seems like he's spinning some yarn - well, let Mason have it!
"Things start disappearing - and turn up somewhere else...oh, where have I heard that before? It was the same business on the...what was the name of that ship again, the Lord have mercy on the poor souls that were aboard her..." O'Grady looked as if he was making an effort to remember the name of the vessel.
Captain Murdoch had now noticed what was going on, and seemed as eager to join the amusement as anyone. "Are you talking of the "Orient", Mr O'Grady? It was a grievous business indeed. When did that happen, I cannot quite remember - Admiral, do you know?"
The admiral raised his eyebrows in surprise. "The Orient? Never heard of her."
"Really? I am amazed, sir, I was sure you remembered it," Murdoch said, pretending to be surprised.
"Was it not about twenty years ago, Captain," William said. "It was before my days at sea, of course, but I have heard the story quite often."
"Could have been, yes, I cannot quite remember either." Murdoch's expression was solemn, but one only had to look at his eyes to know that he was enjoying himself excessively.
The admiral looked at the captain furiously, as if to ask him what the fuss was about. William had a hard time keeping himself from bursting out laughing. Mason looked thoroughly interested by now, because as yet no one had given him a hint as to the "grievous business".
Well, it is an old game, but it works every time. Start talking of something in a vague manner, and pretend that everyone knows what they are talking about - and imagination will do the rest. Mason will be eager to hear everything about the dreadful fate of the "Orient", and will not find out that we're making fun of him until we let him realise.
"And it started off just the same...or so old Sean Malone has told me," O'Grady went on seriously.
Meanwhile, everyone but Mason had noticed what O'Grady was up to, and even Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed to be disposed to participate.
"Is the "Orient" not the vessel that sank off the Madagascar coast?" he asked, winking at William.
"No, that was another. The "Orient" perished in a terrible gale off Cape Horn," he answered.
"Actually, the Colonel is right," Admiral Crawford said. "Now I remember it well, it caused much distress at that time. A disaster."
Ah! Welcome on board, Admiral!
"What did that Mr Malone tell you, Mr O'Grady," Mason asked, uneasily.
"Old Sean? Well, it's a long and sad story, I don't know if you care to hear it, sir, and it would be bad luck, too, if I told such stories. Could be bad for the morale aboard, after all, the same things are happening here as well. You know us seamen, we're a superstitious lot."
"Come on, tell us, O'Grady," William said. "You got me interested in that tale, now you have to tell it."
The other men agreed.
"Well, but don't say you haven't been warned. The "Orient" set sail in Cork, and was to go to the East Indies. She was a beauty if ever a ship has been, or so old Sean has told me. They passed the Canary Islands, going southwards, and that's when the trouble began, just like here...things starting to disappear and being found where no one had put them. The Captain missing some of his private provisions of whiskey - and all the men swearing they had not taken it..."
"A grievous business, indeed," Captain Murdoch said, dryly.
"No, really, no one had touched it. At night, people keeping their watches sometimes heard some whispering and laughing up aloft..."
"Must have been the wind, O'Grady," William said, soothingly.
"So I thought at first, too, only old Sean thought differently. It was ... well, you know, the one you shouldn't name..."
"Now, come on, you don't believe such stories, do you?" Mason sounded really frantic by now.
"Of course we do not, do you?" Captain Murdoch said, grinning.
"No, I don't."
"Go on then, O'Grady! What happened next?"
"Well, we all know what happened! Mark my words, we have to be careful, or the "Achilles" will suffer the same fate as the "Orient" did. May the Lord and all his angels guard us."
"There is one thing that interests me," Colonel Fitzwilliam said, turning eagerly towards O'Grady. "How did Sean Malone survive?"
"The measles, sir."
"I beg your pardon? I do not quite understand."
"Old Sean had the measles and was left behind in Bombay. The other men of the "Orient" were never heard of again."
"Enough now, Mr O'Grady," Captain Murdoch interrupted him. "I will not have any more such talk aboard my ship, do you hear? It is unchristian to believe such things, and I will not have you mention them here again." He looked at O'Grady severely.
"Aye, sir," O'Grady replied, and remained silent, although one could see that he was annoyed.
Five minutes ago Murdoch was quite content with O'Grady's story. What is wrong with it now?
William was soon to find out what was wrong with it, when he met Captain Murdoch on deck.
They discussed what had happened that evening, and William took the courage to ask him. Murdoch grinned.
"The most important thing in such business is to stay plausible, that is all. I had to forbid O'Grady to speak, because that is just what a captain ought to do if he hears talk like that. Besides, it will leave Mason in suspense - and suspense is always worse than knowledge. He'll lie awake and wonder all night what had been so dreadful that O'Grady was not allowed to tell him."
William looked at him, all astonishment. "I did not think about that, but you are right, Captain. Dear me, I'd hate to have you for an enemy."
Murdoch laughed. "I guess so, but you need not fear that. Well, tell O'Grady to leave Mason alone now. If all goes well, we will be rid of him in a few days, he'll leave us in Gibraltar, and I think not one man aboard will miss him."
William agreed. The mention of Edward Mason, however, made him think of Elizabeth again - although, to be honest, he had to admit that he needed no reason at all to think of her. Thinking of Elizabeth Martin, remembering her, had become as natural to him as breathing, and just as indispensable.
Part 34
Liz had recovered sufficiently to be allowed a short walk in the garden now and then. Cathy spent much time with her, as George had to go to Weymouth each day.
To her, Liz confided, she told her about Mr Searle, and - most of all - about William, although she did not dare calling him William in her sister's presence - he was Mr Price to anyone but herself. Cathy had her suspicions, and she confronted Liz with them.
"You seem to be very attached to Mr Price, Liz, considering how much you speak of him."
Liz blushed. "Maybe I am, but I am not sure what he feels for me. There has been one moment when he...well, I felt as if he was going to tell me all about it, on the day he left. But maybe I was just imagining things - after all, I was not at my best that day."
She gave her sister a playful smile. "It is just like me to fall in love with someone who has to leave me after a short time, is it not?"
Cathy laughed. "He will return one day, I am sure."
"But will he also return to me?"
Liz was serious again. That thought had plagued her for some time. What if he ceased to think of her in the long months of separation? She did not doubt that there were LOTS of pretty girls in Spain, and in Malta, too.
"If he is worth your notice, he will," Cathy said resolutely, and added, with a smile, "But in view of your description of him, he is well worth your notice."
"I am prejudiced, don't forget that," Liz said, smiling.
"Never mind, I think I can trust your judgement."
Liz was earnest again. "That's what I thought too, Cathy, but I've found out that I cannot."
Cathy was worried. Liz had never been like this before, she had always been a cheerful girl, occasionally quick-tempered, but never depressed.
Of course, one could not blame her for having changed in this way, keeping in mind what had happened to her in the past weeks, it was quite natural that she would behave like this.
It was time that she left Cranston, Cathy thought, and decided to talk to her husband about it. In her own home, back on Abbey Mill Farm, and surrounded by her own family, Liz would soon stop thinking about the shock she had suffered from, and her heartache could be mended much better if she was surrounded by people who had a lot of love to give.
There was someone approaching them, coming from the French window that led out of the drawing room into the garden. It was a young girl wearing mourning clothes.
"Emily," Liz exclaimed.
It was Emily, indeed, but how she had changed! There was a hard, bitter look in her face, her face was pale and worn, and she had grown thinner. Still, when she saw Liz, she smiled, or at least tried to.
"I thought I'd visit you before I leave," she said.
Liz introduced her to Cathy, and Emily looked at her with unfeigned interest. She had heard so much of Mrs Mason, she was eager to make her acquaintance.
Cathy exchanged some pleasantries with Emily, before she decided to return to the house to leave Liz and her friend by themselves for a while. They had much to talk about, or so she thought, and was sure they did not need her.
Liz looked at Emily earnestly. "I am so sorry, Emily, you cannot imagine how sorry I am."
"Oh, Elizabeth..." Emily burst into tears. "I am trying to be composed, as a lady ought to be, or so my aunt keeps telling me - but it is so hard!"
Liz watched her helplessly, and put her arm around Emily's shoulder. What else could she do for Emily but to be her shoulder to cry on? And to imagine that Emily's present state was entirely her fault...Liz could not help it, she started to cry, too.
What is going to become of you, Liz, you have been crying a lot lately - will you get rid of that habit, please?
"You are going to leave, Emily," she said, when she had calmed herself enough to speak.
Emily nodded. "My aunt and uncle think it is the best thing to do. They want to take me to London, and I will probably sell the property here in Cranston. I cannot bear being here any more - and if I had my way, I'd leave England altogether."
"But where would you go, Emily?"
Emily shrugged her shoulders. "Anywhere. I do not care really, and I do not think anyone would care if I went. I am trying to persuade my aunt to go to the Continent with me - I am sure a change of situation would do me good, do you not think so too?"
"I don't know, Emily, but I am sure you know best what is good for you."
"You know, I need to go to a place where nobody knows me, and where nobody knows about my connections...people would not pity me, you know, I hate to be pitied. If I look at all those hypocrites who tell me how sorry they are, and in fact they are just enjoying the drama! The way they look at me - there is so much spite in their looks, even if they say they feel sympathy for me! Actually, there are only three people in the world whom I know to be sincere when they tell me about their compassion. One of them is you, Elizabeth, and the others..." She stopped.
"Who are the others, Emily? I'd like to know if I am in good company," Liz said, smiling, trying to cheer Emily up.
"Mr Campbell is one, and the other one is Mr Price. He went with Mr Campbell when he broke the news of my brother's death to me - I dare say there is hardly any person in the world who can be as supportive as Mr Price."
Liz nodded, thoughtfully. Emily's statement had upset her, because it reminded her of her old jealousy. Perhaps Emily was in love with William? She wanted to change the topic as fast as possible, and so she just said, "Very true, Emily. So you are going to London! When are you going to leave?"
"Tomorrow morning, that is why I came here to see you once again."
Liz smiled. "London is only fifteen miles from my home, Emily. There might be a chance of our meeting again."
Emily beamed. "Would you really care to meet me again? This is more than I have dared to hope! Oh, it is so good to have a friend like you!"
Liz felt incredibly guilty. If Emily knew...
"Would you allow me to write you, Elizabeth? I would so much want to keep in touch with you." Emily looked at her pleadingly.
"I shall be happy to correspond with you, Emily," Liz replied. "Cranston will change a lot, do you not think so too?"
"It will, yes. Have you heard that the Campbells are going to leave Cranston, too? Amazing - you will be quite on your own now, you and Mrs Charles."
"We will get along very well, Emily. I think some peace and quiet will be nice for a change."
"And still I think you will be very lonely, Elizabeth."
Liz smiled. "For a start, my sister and brother-in-law will stay with us, and then I think Mrs Charles does not have the intention of staying in Cranston very much longer. The whole affair has distressed her more than anything I can imagine, and I guess she already longs for the quiet solitude of her own home."
"So you will leave here, too." Emily sighed. "What will Cranston be like when we are all gone, I wonder?"
Liz laughed. "Life will go on without us, most likely. It always does."
"This sounds so... disillusioned, in a way, but I think you are right." Emily sighed and rose.
"I will have to leave now, I want to call on Mr and Mrs Campbell, too. Good bye, Elizabeth, and promise you will not forget me."
"I won't, Emily. Take care of yourself."
Liz attended Emily back into the house, where Emily took leave of Mrs Charles.
Everyone's going, only I'm staying... Liz thought. The thought made her melancholy. To cheer herself up, she went to her room where she kept the atlas Mr Campbell had used to show her the route of the "Achilles".
They would be in Gibraltar by now. Liz closed her eyes and tried to imagine what the place looked like, tried to picture the rock of Gibraltar with the town, the sea...the summer sun burning down on them...and Africa, visible far away in the haze...
Liz went to the window and looked out on the sea. It looked so peaceful at the moment, but still, one never knew...
"Let him get back home safely," she said aloud. "You are not going to keep him, do you hear?"
Liz, are you going mad? You're talking to the SEA!
She shook her head at herself.
Completely and utterly crazy. When William comes back, he'll run away in horror if he sees what a lunatic has become of you.
There was a knock at the door, and Liz answered. Cathy came in, casting a glance at the map that was lying on the desk, and said, "The Mediterranean...very interesting. Liz, can I have a word with you?"
"Of course," Liz said, offering a seat to her sister and sitting down on her bed.
"George and I have a suggestion to make, Liz. We have thought that now that everyone seems to be leaving Cranston, we might as well take you home with us. What do you think?"
Liz hesitated. After all, Cranston was the only place she had to remember William - it was here she had met him, and it had been here where she had spent some of her happiest, but also her saddest moments.
"What about Mrs Charles? I cannot leave her behind all by herself, it would not be right, after all she has done for me."
"Actually," Cathy replied, "Mrs Charles said she would accept the offer if you did. So, what do you think?"
The Campbells will leave soon...Emily will be gone tomorrow...and William...
Cathy watched Liz, who was playing around with her necklace.
"Why not?" Liz answered, finally.
I have to get used to living without him, somehow. Even if he does come back to me, he will be able to stay but for a short time. With my family, I'll be all right.
"Good. George will have settled his business in Weymouth soon. I think we will leave next Monday. Do you think you will be able to pack until then?"
Liz nodded. "There will be no problem as to that. It is not as if I owned that many things, after all." She grinned.
"I am afraid my riches will fit perfectly into one trunk, maybe two."
Cathy laughed. This was a spark of the old Liz shining through. There was still hope if she was able to make fun of herself.
They spent their last evening in Cranston with the Campbells, who were also preparing for their departure. Mr Campbell had had an offer he could hardly refuse.
An uncle of his who had also been his tutor once, had to retire from his profession, and had suggested that his nephew could take over his practice in Portsmouth.
Campbell knew that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. His uncle had a large acquaintance in Portsmouth, and so had he. Many people had trusted in his uncle, and he had always been able to lead a very comfortable life with the money he had earned.
Campbell had introduced the plan to his wife, and she had been delighted. Portsmouth! She was looking forward to living there, the society in Cranston had, after all, become a bit confined.
"But you know that I will be busier in Portsmouth than I have ever been in Cranston," he had told her.
"Never mind," had been her answer. "I think we will do very well in Portsmouth, and you must not let this chance slip away."
So Campbell had decided to accept his uncle's offer, to sell his practice in Cranston and to move to Portsmouth.
Liz watched Mrs Campbell talking to Cathy, telling her of all the advantages of living in an important town. She smiled, but did not say much. If there was one thing that interested her in Portsmouth, it was the fact that it was William's hometown - but he was not there at the moment, so she did not feel much interest.
"Have you had any news from your friend, Mr Campbell," she said.
George watched her with a knowing smile, but did not say a thing. Being an intelligent man, he knew when to keep silent.
"Not yet, unfortunately, Miss Martin," was Mr Campbell's answer.
"Is that a good or a bad sign, Mr Campbell?" Liz looked at him anxiously.
"Neither. It just shows me that he has not had an opportunity to send me a letter yet, Miss Martin."
"Oh...do you think they have already arrived in Gibraltar?"
"If there has been no gale or anything, yes, I think they have, Miss Martin."
Liz did not ask any more. She felt uncomfortable with the way George looked at her. He would not miss a chance of teasing her, if he knew...
When they left, Mrs Campbell promised her to write soon.
"So you are going to write to Miss Martin," Campbell said to his wife when they went back into the house.
"I thought she might want to know all the news from Portsmouth...and abroad," she answered.
Campbell laughed. "Are you actually doing a generous thing? You astonish me, Mrs Campbell." Then he became more serious. "And I am proud of you."
Mrs Campbell blushed, but did not answer.
The journey back home was more fatiguing than the journey to Cranston. Liz had thought herself thoroughly recovered, but she realised soon that she was still not her old self again.
They arrived on Abbey Mill Farm on Wednesday evening, and were welcomed by all the family. Mrs Martin had been exceedingly worried about her daughter's health, and was in raptures to see her again.
Robert welcomed her in his calm, warm-hearted manner, and Harriet - well, Harriet was Harriet. She embraced Liz, crying, and told her how much she had missed her.
Liz looked at her curiously. Harriet had grown a bit rounder since she had last seen her. Now, one could tell clearly that she was pregnant. She was well, or so it seemed. Her whole person was glowing with happiness, and she looked more mature than before, probably due to the responsibility she was soon to take.
During dinner, Liz watched her brother and Harriet. They were so happy with each other...she envied them.
She noticed that Rob gave her a searching look now and then, and knew that he was not the sort of person to abstain from asking her if he thought something was wrong.
Liz wanted to confide in him, but she wanted to wait until she was ready to do so. She was not ready yet. Rob would just have to wait.