As he had promised, Christopher Hart came back to Marsh Farm later that afternoon, but the news was predictable. Nothing had been seen of Noah or his father, and word had filtered through via Goole that the crews of two barges were missing.
He sat down by the fire and accepted the offered mulled ale. He was distraught, wet through, his hair soaking as Harriet’s had been, and his hands trembled as he took the tankard from Ellen. ‘I’m so very sorry,’ he said. ‘Such a tragedy. I’ve been promised word if by wondrous chance a miracle might happen.’ He shook his head wearily. ‘But I fear all hope is gone. It’s fearful weather and quite dark and thunderous now, so little can be done until morning. Men will go out at first light to search again.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Harriet’s voice shook. ‘You’ve been very kind and considerate. Your family must be anxious about you.’
‘I sent word to my wife that I’d been held up; she will be very upset when she hears, but it is much worse for both of you, especially with Christmas almost upon us.’
‘I’d forgotten,’ Harriet murmured, and felt tears welling. ‘It was going to be a special Christmas with our new son.’ Daniel was sleeping on her knee, and she moved his shawl that Mr Hart might see his face.
He nodded, and Harriet saw that he was very affected by the sight of him. ‘A fine boy.’ His voice was choked. ‘You must tell me if there’s anything I can do to help you in your hour of need. You too, of course, Ellen,’ he said, turning to her.
‘There is something, Master Hart,’ Harriet said, and Ellen looked at her sharply. ‘Daniel hasn’t been baptized, nor I churched, and as I’m not supposed to go out in public until I am …’
‘Ah, of course,’ he said. ‘We’ll be seeing the parson over Christmas and I could ask him to visit you. Shall I do that? It will be a few days, I suppose, before he comes, but you’ll need time to grieve over your loss, to cope with your sorrow over this terrible tragedy that has come upon you so swiftly, and – and then …’ He paused. ‘Depending on any outcome there will be other arrangements to be discussed.’
He means a funeral, Harriet thought. That’s if they ever find them. And ’magistrate to be informed.
He left them, telling them not to get up, that he’d see himself out, but Ellen insisted on taking him to the door. Harriet heard a few murmured words and then the bolt striking home as Ellen locked it after him. Harriet took a deep gasping breath. She would have left it unlocked – just in case. If that act wasn’t final proof of an ending she didn’t know of another.
‘My dear, wherever have you been?’ Melissa was astounded at Christopher’s appearance. ‘You’re soaked through! You must have a mustard bath at once.’ She reached for the bell to summon Alice, but Christopher put up his hand.
‘I’ve already asked for one to be prepared,’ he said. ‘I’m so very cold. I’ll tell you briefly what’s happened, have my bath and go straight up to bed.’
Melissa rose to her feet. This was so unlike him. ‘You’ve been out all day. I was told you’d been held up. What’s happened?’
He poured a glass of whisky from the decanter and drank it straight down. ‘A terrible tragedy.’ He came towards the fire and held his shaking hands towards it. ‘I don’t know where to begin.’
He told her in short bursts how he’d gone to Marsh Farm and heard a commotion, men shouting and a woman screaming.
‘I thought at first it was a family quarrel and hesitated to become involved, but then realized that it was something much worse.’ He went on to describe how he’d looked towards the estuary and seen a woman down by the bank in obvious distress.
‘Apparently Tuke had fallen into the water and her husband had jumped in to try to save him. But the salt marsh was covered by deep water and they were both washed away by the high tide. I’ve never seen it so fast and strong.’
Melissa, shocked, gazed at him. ‘Don’t tell me they’re …’
He nodded. ‘Gone. I did what I could, sent men out on the bank to look for them, alerted the authorities, but it’s bad, Melissa. I fear there’s no hope for them. And you were right, the young Mrs Tuke has a very young baby, no more than a few weeks old, I should say.’
‘Poor girl,’ Melissa murmured. ‘And the elder Mrs Tuke, what of her? She must be distraught at losing a husband and a son!’
Christopher frowned slightly. ‘I’m not sure. I don’t think she’s taken it in yet. She seemed quite calm, anyway, but then she was always a stoic from what I recall. But she said something rather odd as I was leaving; something I didn’t understand. It’s come at last.’
‘There’s another son,’ Melissa told him. ‘You met him when he came to the house earlier in the year, don’t you remember? Where was he?’
Christopher shook his head wearily. ‘I recall meeting him, but I don’t know where he is. He wasn’t mentioned.’
Their visitors were due the next day, Christmas Eve, but that morning Christopher rose early and sent a note to the parson asking him to call urgently at Marsh Farm, even though he would be busy preparing for the church services.
‘The parson will be the best person to talk to them,’ he told Melissa, ‘and young Mrs Tuke needs him to baptize the child and church her before she goes out in public.’
‘Of course,’ Melissa murmured. ‘The blessing for safe delivery from childbirth. Did you see the child?’ She had already decided that she must keep her own news for a more appropriate time. ‘What was it?’
‘A son. A beautiful child. Some foreign blood, I’d say; perhaps the father was very dark. He’ll be a comfort to her, I hope.’
‘Will you visit them again today?’
‘Yes. Regardless of whether there’s any news. I feel that I should. I’ll let them know that if they need any assistance …’
Melissa smiled and kissed his cheek. ‘You’re a saint,’ she said. ‘May I come with you? Amy can hold the fort here in case everyone arrives early.’
He nodded. ‘Thank you. I’d appreciate your being by my side, and I’m sure they will too.’
They heard the ring of the doorbell. ‘That might be news,’ Christopher said, heading for the hall. ‘If it is, we’ll go to the Tukes straight after breakfast.’
It was the bailiff bringing word that a bargeman’s body had been found near the port of Goole; his partner had managed to swim to shore and walk to safety, and the second barge had been rescued with both crewmen safe. There had been no sighting of Noah or his father.
Christopher was glad to have Melissa with him as they drove to Marsh Farm. He’d been disturbed by Ellen’s behaviour as he’d left the previous day. She had appeared to be unaffected by the loss of her husband and son. He had put her unemotional behaviour down to shock, but as he was leaving and she had accompanied him to the door, she had clasped his hand and whispered the words he’d repeated to Melissa and he didn’t understand her meaning in the slightest.
He knocked and they entered, as no one seemed to have heard them. Harriet was sitting gazing into the fire with her child on her knee and a warm shawl covering them both. She looked up, startled, and saw them in the doorway.
She attempted to stand, but Melissa hurried towards her. ‘Please don’t get up, Harriet,’ she said softly. ‘I’ve come to offer my condolences. I’m so dreadfully sorry. Words cannot express—’
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ Harriet whispered. ‘I’m sorry; I seem to have lost my voice. Mrs Tuke is milking in ’shed. She’ll not be more than five minutes. Can I offer you a cup of tea?’
‘No, thank you,’ Melissa said. ‘My husband has something to tell you.’
Christopher’s fingers ran round the rim of his top hat. ‘There’s no trace of your husband or his father,’ he told her. ‘One bargeman has drowned, the others are safe. I’m so sorry that I haven’t any better news for you.’
Harriet shook her head. ‘I didn’t expect any, sir,’ she said huskily. ‘Not after what I saw. Here’s Mrs Tuke coming in.’ She had heard the click of the door sneck.
Ellen had seen the horse and trap outside and her expression was composed, until she saw Mrs Hart standing by Harriet and then it froze, though she dipped her knee.
‘Good morning, ma’am, Master Christopher,’ she said formally. ‘Thank you for coming. I don’t suppose you have anything new to tell us?’
‘I’m afraid not, Ellen,’ Christopher said. ‘It’s a terrible tragedy. Do you have any other family we can get in touch with?’ He glanced at Harriet, who shook her head and mouthed, ‘No, sir.’
Ellen crossed her hands. ‘No, but I’d be obliged if you’d send a message to Mrs Marshall to acquaint her with what’s happened.’
Christopher, saying that he would, cursed himself for forgetting that he’d intended to send a sack of logs to the old lady. It’s Christmas Eve, he thought; everybody will be busy. I wonder if she has enough fuel to manage over Christmas?
‘You must let us know if there’s anything you need for yourself or your child.’ Melissa spoke directly to Harriet. ‘May I see him?’
Harriet smiled, though her mouth trembled. ‘Yes, ma’am.’ She drew away the shawl. Daniel gave a yawn and opened his dark eyes, which were fringed with the longest lashes Melissa had ever seen, and looked about him as if observing his surroundings.
‘Oh!’ Melissa sighed. ‘He’s beautiful. Quite, quite beautiful. I don’t know many babies, but I’m sure there are none who can match him.’
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ Harriet whispered. ‘I thought it was just me being biased.’
‘I think not,’ Melissa said gently, and turned to Ellen Tuke. ‘You must both be so very proud. The child will give you comfort in these dark days.’
‘Quite so, ma’am,’ Ellen said stiffly.
The Harts left them and headed for home. ‘What a very cold fish your Ellen Tuke is,’ Melissa commented when they reached the road. ‘I don’t think it’s only shock that has made her so. I feel she has some rancour eating away any generosity of spirit.’
Christopher gave a deep sigh. ‘I think you may be right. She is certainly not the person I once knew.’