The Body on the Beach (The Weymouth Trilogy) Read online

  The Body on the Beach

  For Astrid. An inspiration.

  © Lizzie Church 2012 all rights reserved.

  With very grateful thanks to Mrs Val Warren for her extremely useful research into the Weymouth of 1805, and also to James Walton of the Muzzle Loading Association of Great Britain, Jessie and Robin Drury of the British Pistol Club and Max Wray for their helpful advice on pistol wounds.

  Cover illustration by John Amy, ebookdesigner.co.uk, based on a painting detail from ‘Night’ by Francis Wheatley, 1799.

  Chapter 1

  It was when Kathryn’s husband hit her for the first time that she realised the enormity of the mistake she had made in marrying him.

  It had all come out of nowhere. Even once it had happened, even after she had gone through the incident time and time again in her mind, she could not for the life of her think what it was that had led him to do it. Perhaps it was a look. Perhaps it was a word she had used. Perhaps it was an inflexion, a tone. Perhaps it had been nothing at all to do with her. Giles might have been responding to some other incident, real or imagined, and she had just happened to be in the way at the time. But whatever the reason, and why ever he had felt the need to strike out at her and knock her to the ground, the overwhelming love that she had felt for him until that very day evaporated as if it had never, ever existed.

  He had been instantly remorseful. He had picked her up, held her in his arms, caressed her, cried with her. He had promised her, faithfully, that he would never ever hit her – never try to hurt her ever again. And for a few days he had been as good as his word. He had been affectionate, caring. He had stayed with her, been helpful, keen, anxious almost, to look after her and do her bidding. He had resisted the lure of the card tables in Harvey’s library where he had played – and lost – so many times before. He had resisted the draw of the Osmington ‘Crown’ – the camaraderie, the excitement of the smugglers, the temptation of Susie, the serving maid. He had been the man, in short, that she had thought that he was. The man that she had been so keen and so excited to marry only a few short months before.

  Then, one afternoon, one of Giles’ drinking partners turned up at the door. It had been cold and wet for several days and Kathryn could tell that Giles was getting tetchy. He had picked on Bob for some trivial misdemeanour and shouted so ferociously at him that the poor little lad had scuttled, petrified, to his mama’s arms. Bob was not a brave child at the best of times. He was quiet and serious, like his papa had been. It wasn’t necessary to shout at him like that. So when ‘Cutlass’ Chard had appeared at the door and demanded that Giles accompany him to the drinking dens of Weymouth she had been very pleased to see him pick up his greatcoat, and go.

  He got back quite early, before Kathryn had gone to bed, full of a scheme and bursting to tell her about it. And indeed, it sounded quite wonderful. Cutlass had asked Giles to take some jewellery up to sell in London. He had not said where he had got it, and it was always better not to know.

  ‘So how about we both go there? It’ll make a nice change for you, to go up to Town for a few weeks, Kitty. You can dress up in your pretty outfits and we can see the sights and go to the circus. What do you think?’

  Kathryn was thrilled.

  ‘Oh, it sounds perfectly delightful, Giles. I can ask Aunt Shepherd to come and keep house and look after Bob while we’re away. I can’t expect poor Sally to do everything on her own. I’m sure my aunt will help out – it’ll make a change for her as well.’

  ‘Yes, you do that. You’d better be quick about it, though. Cutlass wants his kelter as soon as possible so I told him I’d set off tomorrow.’

  Kathryn was taken aback.

  ‘Tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes. That’s what I said, wasn’t it?’

  ‘But I can’t possibly be ready to go to Town tomorrow. Why, how do you expect me to get Aunt Shepherd here in time? There’s no way that I can walk over to Weymouth in the dark – it would take me more than an hour to get there – and she’ll be in bed by now anyway. And even then she might not be able to come at the drop of a hat. She has her income to think of and I really...’

  ‘Stop it, woman.’ Giles had suddenly switched from almost boyish delight into a raging, black inferno. He threw himself towards her and tore her sewing from her hands. ‘I thought you would like the idea. We could have spent some time together, on our own. We could have enjoyed ourselves for a change. We never enjoy ourselves any more. I might have known that you’d try to ruin everything. Cannot do this. Cannot do that. Cannot do the other. Do you want to come to London with me, or don’t you?’

  Kathryn looked up at him. She was feeling a little afraid.

  ‘Of course I do, Giles. There’s nothing that I’d like better than to come with you. But I have responsibilities. Much as I would like to come with you I have Bob to think of, and Tom and Sally to inform. I would need a few days to get myself ready. Can it not wait until Thursday or Friday? I’m sure I could be ready by then.’

  ‘Did you not listen to me at all, you stupid mort? I have already said that I have to go tomorrow. I am not just going to please myself and I am certainly not going just to please you. This trip is worth an amount of money to me. It is a business trip. You can come with me if you wish to but you can only come on my terms. Otherwise just stay at home with that precious brat of yours. I’ll go there on my own.’

  Giles towered above her for a moment. He seemed to be expecting a reply. Kathryn couldn’t look at him. The anger on his face was too awful to behold.

  ‘Well?’

  She shrugged her shoulders hopelessly.

  ‘Well?’ – very loudly this time.

  ‘I’m sorry, Giles. I cannot go with you so immediately. You know it cannot be done. If Aunt Shepherd still resided with us perhaps it could have been done. But since you ordered her away...’

  ‘Oh, so it’s my fault, is it? It’s my fault that you cannot get off your lazy fat backside and sort something out when I invite you for a jaunt. Nothing about it being your fault that you are burdened with a child to look after. Nothing about it being your fault that there’s scarcely enough money to keep body and soul together. Oh no. Nothing about that at all. It’s never your fault, is it? It’s strange how it always appears to be mine.’

  Giles thrust his face close to hers. He was still shouting and she could smell the beer on his breath. It repelled her. Without realising it, she recoiled as far into the chair as she could.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he yelled. ‘What are you doing? Eh? Why do you recoil from me like that? How dare you move away from me, you miserable, sullen slut? Show me some respect, woman – the respect that is due to me as your husband.’

  ‘I’m sorry Giles. It is just that you frighten me when you shout at me so loudly.’

  Giles took her by the shoulders. He shook her very hard.

  ‘So I frighten you, do I? Good – I should think so too. How does this frighten you?’ (Moving his hands to her neck and squeezing it a little). ‘How does this frighten you? Eh? You don’t yet know the meaning of fear but I can show you if you like.’

  Kathryn was quaking as she struggled for breath under his thumbs.

  ‘Please, Giles – please stop doing that – you are hurting me again. There is no reason to be annoyed with me. You know I would come with you if I could...’

  ‘How dare you answer back to me? How dare you even think of it? Go to your room, you common whore. Now. Go to your room before I change my mind and throw you out of the house.’

  He released her neck and stepped back a foot or so. Quivering and coughing and gasping for breath, Kathryn crept out of her chair and ra
n. He marked her escape with a great kick to her leg. She hardly noticed the pain. She was just relieved that he had let her go. She took up her skirts and made for the stairs. She reached her room and locked the door behind her. Then she locked the door that joined her chamber to his, keeping the key in the lock. Only then did she feel able to breathe a little more easily again.

  It was a stormy night. The wind and driving rain battered the house relentlessly from the east. For hour upon hour she listened as it lashed the building, screaming round the corners, drumming on the panes. On a normal night it probably wouldn’t have kept her awake. She was used to storms like this. Tonight, though, it seemed to be feeding on Kathryn’s own sensations. It kept her awake for hours until it gradually blew itself out and she finally drifted into a fitful, restless sleep.

  She was awake again as soon as he arose, despite it still being dark outside. She could hear him stomping about in the room next to hers, sorting out his things. She could hear his door banging and his footsteps in the corridor. They did not falter as he passed her door. He just went. Then there was a pause. Presumably he was eating his breakfast. Then the kitchen door creaked open, and banged loudly shut. Then silence again. He would be saddling the horse. She listened some more. Now she could hear the horse’s hooves as it cantered up the trackway. Then she heard nothing. Only the silence of the morning and, far away, the very faint mewing of seabirds along the coast. She listened, lying totally still, for several minutes. Yes, he was gone and he had left her on her own.

  At first she felt nothing. She could hardly believe that he had gone. But as the minutes ticked by and the silence remained she began to realise that it was true, that he was actually on his way to Town. He had packed his bag, eaten his breakfast, and gone off into the dawn. Then, slowly but surely, her feelings began to re-emerge. At first she felt sad. Very, very sad. This was not what was supposed to happen at all – for Giles to stomp off in a passion and leave her on her own. But then, as she remembered all the hurts that he had inflicted over the past few weeks and months – the petty insults, the abuse, the downtreading, the viciousness – she started to feel a little stronger, started to look forward to the coming weeks with some optimism. After all, with Giles safely in London, she would feel free to be herself once again – something she hadn’t felt able to be for many a long month. She could suit herself. She could take her dinner when she wanted it, not to suit his whim. She could sing to Bob if she wanted to – allow him to make a noise and run about like other little boys. She could invite her acquaintance round without fear of him returning in a black passion, ordering them away, bullying her, threatening, shoving her around. But even these thoughts saddened her. The man was her husband. She had married him for love. She had so much love to give and she had thought that he would want it. He had told her that he did, before they were married, yet he – and he alone – had succeeded in squeezing that love out of her until it had all but wilted and died. And what of the future? He would come back at some time – probably. What would he be like then? Better? Or worse?

  It was on that very morning that Kathryn spied the body on the beach. I use the term ‘body’ somewhat loosely, as that is what it appeared to be at the time. She had left the house at the first crack of dawn to take her favourite ramble down the hill to Preston cove, there to feel her spirits soothed by the rhythmic lapping of the now quietened waters. It was as she stood at the head of the rocks, staring out to sea, that she suddenly spotted it only a very few yards away from her. The mass of seagulls, mewing excitedly overhead, drew her attention to it. Kathryn was used to the sight of bodies on the beach and the crumpled form in almost indistinguishable clothing appeared little different from the other dozen or so that she had seen on the shore in her lifetime. But slipping cautiously down the rocks to take a closer look she suddenly realised that the body was not a corpse. It was that of a living man. This was not a difficult diagnosis. The body was actually emitting a weak moaning sound which Kathryn knew was most unlikely in a cadaver.

  She approached it across the rough pebbles with some caution. After all, though the man looked harmless enough he was a stranger and may still hit out at her. But she needn’t have worried. For one thing, he was totally oblivious to her presence, even as she stood over him, wondering what to do. For another, she realised that she was looking at a gentleman. Despite their outer casing of rough wet grit and their shapeless form resulting from saturation with the sea she could see that his shirt and breeches – the man wore no coat and no boots – were of exquisite quality and, most likely, originally of quite some style.

  He was lying face down on the pebbles, shuddering with such intensity that Kathryn fleetingly thought that he might throw himself onto his feet at any moment. But then she realised that he was freezing cold and was also probably finding it difficult to breathe. So, tentatively and very, very gently she took hold of his head and turned it a little so that the nose was open to the air. She followed this by rolling his body likewise onto its side. This occasioned some difficulty on her part, as the gentleman was by no means insubstantial, but perhaps he gave her some assistance, for in the very moment of manoeuvring his legs into place she saw that his eyes were flickering open and that he was watching her with glassy but sentient eyes.

  Having got him into position Kathryn untied the cloak that she was wearing and tucked it securely around him. Then she got on her knees and looked at him. He looked so weak and vulnerable, lying on the cold March beach, that she felt the urge to comfort him, to assure him that, after what ever time he had spent in the swirling water, he was now perfectly safe and secure. So she did just what she would have done with little Bob. She gently stroked the fair hair above his ear, bent over to kiss his temple, and cradled his head in her arms.

  She sat like this with him for a couple of minutes, wondering what to do now. She had walked a good half mile from Sandsford House to the beach and the country was wild and hilly. From what she could see at the moment there was no way in which the gentleman would be able to walk such a way himself. But it was imperative to get him into the warmth, to strip off his sodden clothing, to see to any wounds, and she felt the need to do this as soon as she reasonably could. The nearest buildings were her tenants’ cottages. The two brothers who lived in the first one might yet be about, for it was still very early and they themselves quite elderly, and the eldest son in the second one, though still a little young, was a strong, lusty lad well used, already, to manual work. Perhaps they could assist her in carrying the gentleman into the warmth of a cottage, from whence he might more readily be transported further up the trackway and into Sandsford House.

  The plan designed, Kathryn folded a scrap of the cloak under the man’s head and laid it gently back onto the ground.

  ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can,’ she whispered, as the man looked enquiringly at her. ‘I need to fetch help. We’ll soon have you snug and warm inside.’

  She was shivering herself by this time but a scramble up the rocks, with just a brief glance behind her before climbing as quickly as she could up to Sandsford Cottages, soon warmed her. The sight of a thin wisp of smoke emitting from the chimneys gave her cause for optimism. She knocked tentatively on the first cottage door and poked her head inside. Just as she had hoped. Mr Gabriel and Mr Arthur were sitting by their fire, supping something indeterminate from rough-looking bowls. They rose to greet her, without surprise, with a tug of the forelock, and invited her to join them.

  ‘I cannot just now,’ she told them, ‘as I am come to request your aid. I have found a gentleman on the beach. His ship must have gone down in the storm. He is alive, but only just, I think. I need your assistance in getting him into the warmth.’

  The two brothers immediately obliged. Mr Gabriel, the elder, who took responsibility for these things, took it upon himself to ask next door for some further manpower while Mr Arthur fished about for a blanket. Five minutes, no more, saw a team of three, plus Kathryn and two small children, endowed with th
e blanket, hurrying back down towards the coastline and down the steep rocky ledge towards the water’s edge.

  The gentleman had returned to a stupor and was shivering violently by the time they reached him but it was the work of only a very few minutes before they had him safely wrapped in the blanket and were edging him carefully up the rocks. A few minutes more saw him safely deposited on the rug in front of Mr Gabriel and Mr Arthur’s blazing wood fire. Kathryn took the two small children back to the sanctity of next door as the two old men and one young one stripped him of his wet clothing, vigorously rubbed him dry (which procedure also served to stimulate the gentleman himself into consciousness again), washed and dressed some deep wounds on his body and limbs, and proceeded to dress him in the spare smock and breeches which Mr Arthur reserved for the extra special days of the year.

  ‘You’d like some vittles, I suppose?’ asked Mr Gabriel, offering the gentleman his own bowl containing the remnants of the indeterminate mess he called breakfast. The gentleman managed a slight nod. Mr Gabriel tried to pass the bowl to him but he seemed quite unable to take it for himself. Kathryn took it from him instead. She crouched down next to him, cradled his head once more and offered a spoonful to his mouth. The mouth opened and accepted the breakfast gratefully. Kathryn had to smile as she saw the look of disgust on his face as the flavour – or, more probably, the lack of it - reached his tongue. She doubted that a gentleman like him would ever have had the misfortune to taste anything quite so unpalatable as this. Nevertheless, he was obviously ravenous for she managed to get him to accept a good few spoonsful before he shook his head and closed his eyes once again. She returned the now almost-empty bowl to Mr Gabriel. Mr Gabriel quickly finished off the remains, licked the spoon, and put his bowl next to his brother’s on a low shelf near the hearth.

  By now the morning was well advanced and Kathryn, as well as her three hosts, was becoming distinctly edgy. She had left the house for a walk before Bob had woken up and she had not expected to be out for as long as she had. He would be wondering where she had got to. The menfolk, too, were anxious to get going. Animals did not look after themselves and the morning was already slipping by. They all four of them looked down at the man on the rug. He was unconscious again but looked a little more the thing and Kathryn decided that he was probably only asleep.