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THURSDAY, 5 JULY 1821
Knowing I would be unable to rest a minute longer, I rushed back up the stairs to dress in order to meet with Olivia Tremont this morning to watch the sun rise. Upon tiptoeing back down the stairs, I became aware that someone other than myself was awake in the house for I heard muffled sounds coming from the direction of Cathleen’s former bedchamber where I knew Mr. Haworth was staying. As I did not want to come face-to-face with that gentleman this morning, I resisted the urge to revisit the kitchen in order to snatch up a slice of bread or a biscuit, and once again check to see if Wendy might have returned, so instead quietly stole from the house and set out on foot. I had only just begun to follow the curve around to King Street when a small black hansom cab drew up alongside me.
Glancing over my shoulder, my heart sank when I saw Mr. Haworth’s face peering out at me. “Get in, Miss Abbott.”
Sensing that something was afoot, my breath lodged in my throat. “Good morning, sir,” I said as, unassisted, I climbed up and into the small coach. “You are up and about quite early today, sir.”
“I am on my way to the pier to catch the early morning steamer back to London.” His hard tone did not soften as he pinned me with a stern look. “And you have set out this morning for . . . where?”
In an attempt to calm myself, I sucked in a breath before replying. “I quite enjoy watching the sun peek up from the sea here in Margate. On those mornings when I arise early enough, I walk to the shore and onto the grassland atop the cliffs in order to . . . to . . .” I floundered, then rambled on. “Unlike London, sir, the air here is clean and crisp, which renders the sight quite lovely. From an elevated aspect, the breeze also feels quite invigorating.” Which had nothing to say to anything.
He raised a gloved finger to calmly indicate the opposite direction. “Are not the white cliffs . . . that way?”
A small smile wavered across my face. “On occasion, sir, I meet up with my friend, Miss Olivia Tremont in order that we might watch the sun rise together.”
“I see.” His lips became a straight line of disapproval.
For several very long moments, the only sounds to be heard were the clip-clopping of the horse’s hooves on the hard-packed ground below us. We passed a few other folk walking along the narrow street, housekeepers on their way to market, one or two gentlemen carrying valises, quite possibly also on their way to catch the early morning steam packet in the harbour.
At length, without turning to gaze at me, Mr. Haworth said, “I am loath to do so, Miss Haworth, but it appears that your blatant disregard of your duties here in Margate regarding my daughter’s well being, leaves me no choice but to terminate our agreement.” Reaching into the pocket of his frockcoat, he withdrew his purse. “I shall, of course, pay you for the days in which you have been . . .”
“Please, sir.” I lifted a hand. “I want nothing from you. Once Cathleen is on her feet and able to care for her child, she will need the funds far more than I do. Please, give your daughter whatever you intended to pay me. I want nothing. Nothing at all.”
A look of surprise appeared upon his face as he turned a quizzical gaze on me. “That is quite generous of you, Miss Abbott. And, quite . . . unexpected. However, I insist upon compensating you for the days you have been here.”
“Thank you, sir; but that is not necessary.”
“Rubbish. You will require funds to book your return passage to London.”
Tilting up my chin, I stared straight ahead. “As is happens, sir, I am in possession of sufficient funds to do so.”
“You are being quite stubborn, Miss Abbott.” He attempted to press a few coins into my hand, but I drew back and upon noting that we had now reached the corner of King Street and Marine Parade, said, “I should like to alight here, please.”
The gentleman’s nostrils flared as he angrily shoved the money back into his purse and thrust it back into his pocket. “I fully understand now why my daughter turned you out of our home in London, Miss Abbott. You are far too willful for your own good, young lady.”
Since the carriage had paused at the corner, I smiled serenely as I hopped to the ground. “Do have a safe trip home, sir.” Once again I lifted my chin and set out to walk a few feet up Marine Parade, away from the carriage, and in the opposite direction from the white chalk cliffs. Never once did I look back. Instead, I proudly told myself that I had successfully stood up to the apple, meaning Cathleen, before I left London; and now I had stood up to the tree. At present, I found neither of the Haworths to my liking and before neither would I cower. Not ever again!
Holding my head high, my eyes firmly fixed upon the direction I was headed and from which I expected to soon see Olivia approach, I heard the small cab behind me clatter away. In moments, I spotted Olivia hurrying towards me.
“Good morning, Juliette! It looks to be a lovely day!”
Reigning in my somewhat tattered emotions, I hastily put aside my vexation with Cathleen’s father, a man whom I hoped to never see again, and turned my thoughts to the present. I had not yet decided whether to reveal to Olivia what I had learned last evening from Wendy, that it was, indeed, a rival gang of smugglers who were responsible for Anna Jeffries’ death; nor the reason why I was now anxious for the safety of our own innocent young housemaid Wendy.
Part of me was eager to dispense with all pleasantries and race to the top of the cliff as fast as I could and look down, hoping against hope that I did not spot another small girl’s body lying face down upon the ledge. But, as Aunt Helen had said, perhaps darkness fell last evening and Wendy had simply decided to pass the night, as she had previously been accustomed to doing, with her parents and would return to Northumberland Row this morning, quite well and quite alive. I fervently hoped that would be the case.
As Olivia and I briskly walked toward the hill that led to the cliff top, she remained oblivious to my cares and kept up a running stream of chatter regarding her, and also perhaps, my plans for the day. And, given that I was now no longer employed as Cathleen’s companion, I suppose I was, indeed, now free to do as I pleased with no guilt or misgivings.
“ . . . thought we could take breakfast with Noble and Ash at the Duke’s Head Inn, and then go our separate ways in order to scour the area for Priscilla. The boys are prepared to climb, or perhaps even, scale, the cliff walls, if necessary, in search of a cave whilst you and I can walk along the beach below our house and ask questions of all and sundry. What do you think?”
We had now gained the grassy area atop the cliff and saying nothing at all to Olivia in regard to my fear for Wendy’s life, I nonetheless walked to the edge and anxiously looked down. Spotting no body lying on the ledge below, I inhaled a relieved breath. “That seems a perfectly fine plan to me, Olivia. I also thought we should question the bathing machine attendants. Being out on the beach every day, it is quite possible one of them might have seen, or heard, something untoward.”
Settling ourselves upon the blanket we had spread out on the ground, we prepared to watch the sunrise and the early morning sky lighten. No ominous-looking clouds today meant the sight would be glorious, indeed.
“Are Ashford and Noble planning to meet us at the inn,” I asked, gazing straight ahead, “or are we to meet them at your home, and then all walk back this way together?”
Her eyes also focused on the horizon, Olivia replied, “They will meet us at the inn. Both were up and sipping coffee when I left, so I expect they will not be late. It would not surprise me if they have not yet been to bed. How gentlemen manage to get on with little to no sleep is beyond me. But I expect they are possessed of far more vigor and prowess than we ladies. I find if I am to look at all presentable when I arise in the morning and throughout the day, I simply must have a full . . .”
She continued to prattle on as my churning thoughts persisted to fix on Wendy’s well-being, then jump to my own (now) uncertain future, and back again. I prayed that nothing dreadful had befallen Wendy. I also wondered where I would now stay in Margate? Had Mr. Haworth informed Aunt Helen that he intended to sack me? Perhaps it was she who told him he might find me on my way to the seashore this morning. He did not seem too terribly surprised when he came upon me, therefore, he might have expected to find me walking along his route to the pier, and he also knew what he meant to say to me. At length, I decided that even if Aunt Helen had had a hand in my dismissal, it would be prudent of me to send a note ‘round to her from the Duke’s Head Inn informing her that I intended to stay out on the beach a while longer today in order to assist the Tremonts in their search for Priscilla.
Which is exactly what I did only moments after Olivia and I entered the busy Duke’s Head Inn. A good many travelers were already to-ing and fro-ing both inside and outdoors in the busy inn yard when I excused myself to walk to the counter and inquire of the inn-keep standing behind it about sending a message to someone in town.
Once I had taken care of my business, the gentlemen appeared and after exchanging greetings, we all trouped into the inn’s spacious common room, it surprisingly full of guests this morning, and were shown to tables where we might sit and enjoy our breakfast. Of course, my anxious thoughts continued to fasten on Wendy, but each time, I tried to convince myself that Aunt Helen was likely correct in believing that the girl had simply stayed the night with her parents, and was, even now, back home safe and sound with Cathleen and Aunt Helen.
Still I found my gnawing anxiety over the maid’s safety meant I had little to no appetite for the hearty English breakfast that Ashford and Noble insisted we all partake of.
“If Noble and I are to scale thirty-foot high cliffs today,” Ashford declared, “we shall need all the strength we can muster.”
“Then you may have the rest of my ham-steak,” Olivia said, “for I am stuffed to the gills.” She transferred the remainder of the thick ham-steak on her plate to the now nearly empty one before her brother. “What about you, Juliette? Do you intend eating all of your ham-steak?”
Sitting back, I delicately raised the corner of my napkin to my lips. “I daresay I shan’t be able to swallow another bite. You gentlemen are welcome to take whatever you like from my plate.”
“Ash, you can have the rest of Juliette’s ham-steak, as well. She is also stuffed to the gills.”
Ashford cast a sidelong look at me. “She does not look stuffed to the gills, as you so eloquently put it, Liv. On the contrary,” his tone turned rakish, “in my estimation, Miss Abbott looks . . . quite delectable.”
Olivia laughed. “Are you saying, brother dear, that our Miss Abbott looks good enough to eat?”
The three of them laughed while I ducked my head a trifle self-consciously, then on impulse, tilted up my chin. “If you attempt to nibble on any part of me, young man, I shall knock your lights out!”
This brought peals of laughter from my companions. When our party rose to depart, Ashford leaned into my ear. “I quite like a young lady with mettle.”
I merely lifted my chin another notch and said nothing further.
Gaining the inn yard, the four of us prepared to go our separate ways, the gentlemen already looking past the pier to the craggy rocks beyond, telling us that if they spotted anything from the ground that looked to be the opening to a cave, they would most certainly climb a bit higher up the cliff wall.
“If you happen upon a line of tubmen,” I warned, “do raise your hands to alert them that you are unarmed. I understand that once alarmed, smugglers can be quite dangerous,” I reminded both young men.
“Jolly good to know that you worry over our safety, Miss Abbott,” Ashford said with another rakish grin.
“I do not want you shot dead either, Noble,” Olivia declared.
“Where will you ladies be?” Ashford asked.
I told him we would walk back north to the beach and then trudge through the sand and ask questions of anyone we met there, including the bathing machine attendants.
“Perhaps we might even dig a bit in the sand,” I said to Olivia as she and I headed off in that direction. “I recall Aunt Helen saying that smugglers often dig shallow tunnels in the sand in order to hide oilskin packets containing contraband, such as tea leaves or spices.”
Olivia turned a quizzical gaze on me. “You do not expect to find Priscilla buried in the sand, do you?”
“No, of course not, but we might find a clue, another shell picture, perhaps, which would tell us she had been there. Who knows what we might come upon. We simply need to scour the beach, ask questions, and hope to find a clue.”
“Very well.” And, that bit of discussion constituted the duration of Olivia’s interest in our proposed task. Instead, she began to natter on about what was to come later that evening. “Do tell me what color gown you will be wearing tonight, Juliette. I think it best if we do not wear the same color.”
“Are we going somewhere tonight?” I absently inquired.
At that moment, we were passing a row of shops across from the library on the High Street. Olivia came to an abrupt standstill before a placard in a shop window that in quite flowery language indicated that the Margate Assembly Rooms would host the first ball of the Season this very evening. “It says the Rooms open at seven sharp, and an orchestra will provide the music for dancing. I confess I am quite excited!”
“Oh, yes. I do recall our plans for the evening,” I murmured. “But, I daresay I have not given the matter of what I shall wear a great deal of thought, or any, for all that.” And, I hadn’t. My mind was far too filled with more important concerns to think on anything as inconsequential as gowns or fripperies.
We walked on.
“I cannot wonder that you do not concern yourself with what to wear, Juliette. No doubt, it is because every gown you possess is lovely and any one of them would do quite nicely for an Assembly in Margate.” She did not pause for breath. “You really must tell me about the Assembly Rooms in London. I believe they are called Almack’s, is that not correct? No doubt you are acquainted with every one of the Patronesses. Is the Countess Lieven as haughty as they say? And what of Lady Jersey? You’ve no idea how I envy you, Juliette. The shabby little assemblies those of us in Oxford are obliged to attend are quite paltry by comparison. Noble and I rarely go; for it hardly seems worth the effort.”
I drew breath, even as Olivia did not. I hoped she did not press me for details regarding Almack’s Assembly Rooms in London, for, of course, I had never darkened the doorway of those hallowed halls, and doubted I ever would. But, rather than confess that awful truth to her, I merely murmured, “Lady Sefton is very kind and affable.”
“Oh!” Olivia squealed. “So you are acquainted with them.”
Not wishing to admit to the terrible truth, or to forward a falsehood, I merely said, “The Lady Sefton was a special friend of Lady Carstairs, with . . . whom I lived following my parents’ deaths,” I replied quietly, and truthfully; then hastened to dismiss the topic, a bit. “What color gown will you be wearing tonight?”
Even as I think back now, I do not recall what Olivia said, for we very soon gained the beach, and at once left off all talk of gowns and balls to turn our attention fully to the task at hand; although after trudging only a few feet onto the sand, Olivia grew weary of our endeavor.
“I can feel the sand seeping into my slippers and it makes my feet feel . . . gritty. I quite dislike the feeling.”
I had to agree, however to solve the problem, I reached down to remove my slippers. “Perhaps we might carry our shoes, or . . .” After shaking the sand from my footwear, I untied the ribbons of my reticule and stuffed my soft kid slippers inside. They folded up nicely, with only the tips of the toes sticking up from the ruffled edge of my reticule.
Following my lead, Olivia did likewise. “You are so clever, Juliette. There, that does feel better. I shan’t care a bit if my stockings become soiled for they can be washed. Although, not by me.” She giggled.
I moved to approach a couple of women who were busily sifting through the sand, I assume, in search of the odd seashell, or any sort of treasure they could find.
“Excuse me,” I addressed the ladies, “but I wonder if it is your habit to frequent the beach every day?”
Curiosity etched upon their faces, both women looked up.
“I ask because a young lady of my, er, our acquaintance, has recently gone missing. About a sen’night ago.” A hand indicated Olivia. “Miss Tremont and I are attempting to uncover what might have happened to the girl. Do you recall seeing a young lady of about three and ten, accompanied by her maid, the pair of them also here on the beach in search of seashells?”
Both women were already shaking their bonneted heads. “We only just arrived in Margate on Sunday last,” one said.
“The shore stretches a good ways up from here.” The other chimed in. “Today is the first day we have ventured this far afield.”
“You might look further down there,” the other one said, a hand pointing further along the sandy shore where the beach was swiftly filling up with sea-bathers out to enjoy a sunny day on the seashore.
“Thank you, ladies.” I nodded. “So sorry to have disturbed you.”
The salty wind off the sea was far more swift at this lower elevation that I expected, so as well as clinging to our reticules containing our shoes, it was also necessary to now and again fling a hand upward to prevent our bonnets from flying off our heads, which would send them top-over-tail along the sand and finally into the water, where our headgear would likely be ruined beyond repair. The serenity of the sandy shore was further disrupted by the raucous cry of seagulls swooping low to tangle with some morsel of food left by someone strolling past. Then as the gulls attempted to lift upward, they were obliged to fight against the high wind as they struggled to remain aloft in order to fly back out over the water.
In addition, the neighing of horses being held in check near the large, loaf-like bathing machines, constantly rent the air, it filled with the cries and laughter of children running past, their nursemaids calling to them to not stray too close to the water’s edge. The constant pounding of waves upon the shore added to the confusion, the noise bouncing off the high rock wall that protected the row of houses along the Marine Terrace from rising tides. All in all, it made for a less than pleasant walk along the seashore, and caused exhaustion to set in far sooner than I expected. Still, I was determined to press on. To find Priscilla Tremont was paramount. We could rest later, after the girl was safely restored to the loving arms of her family.
Olivia and I next approached a pair of less finely-dressed women who before we had a chance to state our business, promptly told us that when the tide was low, as it presently was, the pickings on shore netted far more in the way of fancy seashells, some shaped like stars, one gleefully declared, holding up just such a specimen.
“Yours for two shillings, miss! An’ that’s a steal, make no mistake!”
“Do come by our shop.” The other one pointed up behind them to the stone wall that separated the street from the beach below. A number of stalls had already been set up this morning; the proprietors noisily hawking everything from freshly caught fish to vegetables just picked from their gardens this morning. “Do come and see what we ‘ave to offer, miss!”
“Thank you, I’m sure.” Walking on, I said to Olivia, “I do not believe those women paid the least bit of mind when you told them we were seeking information about your missing sister. They rather believed we were also on a quest for the odd sea fossil.”
Olivia pointed up ahead. “Let us inquire of the bathing machine attendants. My, I would never wish to go into the ocean in one of those odd-looking contraptions, would you?”
“Indeed, not. But perhaps the attendants might remember a young girl and her maid hereabouts,” I replied hopefully.
We asked several of the women attendants and even a few men, and from all, netted the same response. Nothing that could be considered the least bit useful. However, the last one we questioned did recall seeing a pretty young girl with blonde curls who was accompanied by her maid, but no, not in the past several days, the woman said. They then informed us that the town of Margate and also Ramsgate and several fishing villages in between were fast filling up with summer tourists, adding that they all stayed quite busy now tending to those brave souls who wished to hire a machine in order to take a turn at sea bathing.
“Do you young ladies wish to give it a go?” one asked us.
“Not today, thank you,” Olivia murmured, then aimed an exasperated look at me.
To the bathing attendant, I said, “If you happen to see a young girl who fits the description we just provided, could you please alert the authorities, at once? The constable and his men are also out searching for her.”
From nearby, a snaggle-toothed woman, who had apparently overheard our discussion with the attendant asked, “Is the girl’s family offerin’ a reward for ‘er return?”
“Why, yes, of course.” Olivia’s interest perked up. “We are indeed offering a handsome reward when my sister is safely returned to us.”
“Well, now. ’Ow much is yer folks offerin’?”
Olivia looked a question at me. “Well, er, my Father did not mention the exact sum. But I can assure you, it would be well worth your trouble, ma’am.”
At that instant, a gentleman approached the bathing attendant and asked the price of his services to drive him into the sea.
When they began to haggle, Olivia and I sighed with frustration and moved on. I began to think, although did not admit aloud, that our attempts to learn what we could on the beach were proving fruitless, indeed. We had learned nothing that might lead us to Priscilla Tremont and furthermore, I still knew nothing of Wendy’s whereabouts.
Trudging back through the sand and on up to the Marine Terrace, Olivia invited me to her home for a refreshing drink; cool water, or perhaps some lemonade, she said. Feeling quite parched, I accepted the kind offer.
“But, afterward, I really must return home,” I said.
We found Mrs. Tremont seated in the drawing room, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. She looked up expectantly when we entered the room.
Shaking her head, Olivia said nothing as she sat down upon the opposite end of the sofa.
I slipped onto a chair across from them. “One of the bathing machine attendants did say she recalled seeing a pretty young girl and her maid gathering seashells.”
“Oh?” Mrs. Tremont anxiously leaned forward.
I was instantly sorry to have raised her hopes. “But, not recently.”
“No one knows anything, Mother.” Olivia sighed. “Juliette and I are quite exhausted and also quite thirsty. Might we have . . .?”
“You’ll find a pitcher of cool water on the buffet, dear.”
Olivia got up to pour us each a glass and after handing one to me, sat back down.
“All our efforts were for naught, Mother.”
“I know what you are thinking, dear, but I refuse to leave Margate until all avenues have been explored. I will not leave this city if the remotest possibility exists of finding my child.”
“Juliette and I are fast running out of avenues to explore.”
“I will not leave Margate so long as there is a chance that Priscilla might be found!” Mrs. Tremont exclaimed again. “It would be the same as turning her out of the house to fend for herself. For all I know, she is even now begging food from a stranger on the beach, and seeking shelter wherever she can find it. The thought of my child . . . it simply breaks my heart!” A sob caught in her throat. “My precious baby is lost and alone and I refuse to abandon her! No matter what your father says.”
Silence reigned for several long minutes, then I said, “Perhaps Mr. Tremont and Ashford might hire a carriage, or horses, and ride a bit further up, or down, the beach, perhaps towards Ramsgate. One of the women we spoke with mentioned that the sand stretches quite a goodly length in both directions.”
Mrs. Tremont sniffed. “That is quite a good plan, Miss Abbott. I wonder I did not think of it myself. I shall mention it to Mr. Tremont the moment he returns from . . . wherever he has got off to this morning.”
Olivia reached to place a comforting hand on her mother’s arm. “You are making yourself ill, Mother. Juliette is quite clever. She thinks of a good many things that escape me. We are so very fortunate to have met her, and that she is willing to forego her own family’s needs in order to help us search for Priscilla.”
Mrs. Tremont aimed a wobbly smile my way. “Thank you, indeed, Miss Abbott, for helping us. I am certain that searching for a lost child is not the manner in which you wished to spend your holiday.”
“I am glad to help.”
At that moment, the Tremont’s butler entered the room carrying a silver salver upon which rested a missive. “The post has arrived, Madam.”
“Do leave it on the sideboard in the corridor, Tate.”
“I shall take it,” Olivia said, reaching to snatch the letter from the tray before the butler had a chance to return to the foyer with it. Glancing with interest at the sealed letter, Olivia murmured, “It’s for Noble. From his father.” She paused. “I wonder what . . .?”
“I really should be going now,” I said. Rising, I replaced my empty glass upon the buffet.
Slipping the letter into her pocket, Olivia rose and walked with me to the door. After thanking me again for helping the family, she reminded me that she and the gentlemen would call for me at seven of the clock this evening. “We shall have a gay time at the ball tonight. I am certain of it,” she said as I quitted the house.