Read Online Across the Sands of Time by Pamela Kavanagh - Free Book Online

London and nothing but an empty hearth to return to each night.’
    â€˜But I don’t love him,’ Polly protested chokingly.
    Wallace’s eyes narrowed.
    â€˜What’s that got to do with it? He’s a good man who’ll look after you, so let that be an end to it.’
    Recognising the stubborn note in her father’s voice, Polly bit back the argument that trembled on her lips. Mama hated raised voices. She must not be upset. Polly picked up her basket and took her leave. A few moments later she was speeding along the road, passing the row of Coastguard Cottages, heading for her Aunt Jessica’s in the centre of the village.
    As a rule the Parade would have been crowded; strolling couples admiring the view of the estuary, nannies taking the air with their young charges.
    Today, with rain sweeping in from Wales, the road was deserted, and Polly was glad to turn off into Mostyn Place where her aunt’s house stood, staunch and welcoming, in its big garden.
    Fernlea was the Platts’ family house, a stone-built residence with wisteria-clad walls, mullioned windows and tall chimneys.

    Jessica Platt must have been watching out, for the front door opened and Polly was enveloped in her aunt’s patchouli-scented embrace. Dark where her sister was fair and handsome rather than beautiful, with flashing black eyes and a healthy complexion, Jessica had a manner that brooked no arguments.
    â€˜Polly! Give Agnes your cape and come and sit by the fire, dear. Some tea I think, Agnes.’
    â€˜Yes, ma’am.’
    The maid bobbed a curtsy and vanished into the nether regions of the house, whilst Polly was ushered into the comfortable parlour of plush-covered chairs and polished surfaces.
    â€˜Now, tell me your news. I vow it is weeks since last we spoke.’ Jessica smiled to take the sting out of her words and arranged herself on the sofa with a rustle of silken skirts. ‘First your dear mama. How is she?’
    â€˜Not very well, Aunt Jessica.’
    â€˜Then you must call the doctor. Marion never was robust and she works too hard. I’m surprised your papa doesn’t engage some help in the tavern.’
    â€˜I’m sure Da isn’t intentionally thoughtless. It’s just that Mama has always managed. She’s sent you a jar of the strawberry preserve you are so fond of.’
    â€˜Oh la! Give her my thanks.’ She studied her niece closely. ‘You look wan, child.’
    â€˜Oh, Aunt! It’s Da.’ Polly hardly knew where to start. She lowered her voice conspiratorially. ‘I fear he could be in big trouble. He’s involved with smugglers .’
    Aunt Jessica patted her hand.
    â€˜Dear me, is that all? I’m not a whit surprised. A tavern on the harbour couldn’t be better placed for a spot of crafty trafficking. Polly, my love, don’t look so shaken. You’d be amazed at the number of people – many of them very well respected – with a finger in that particular pie.’
    She preened her hair and the collar of her frock.
    â€˜How else do you suppose one obtains the material for one’s gowns or the wine for the cellar?’

    â€˜I … I hadn’t thought,’ Polly stammered. ‘Aunt Jessica, that’s not all. Da says I’m to be married – to Mr Rawlinson the ferry owner!’
    â€˜To … to George?’ At this Jessica looked stunned. ‘My goodness me!’
    The maid entered the room then with the tea-tray, giving Jessica time to restore her scattered wits. Busy with silver teapot and delicate china, she heard Polly out.
    â€˜I won’t do it! I cannot marry someone old enough to be my father! Besides, I love another, but I dare not make an issue out of it for fear of upsetting Mama.’
    â€˜There, child. Mayhap it will come to nothing.’
    Jessica handed Polly her tea, plied her with cake and, cleverly changing the subject, launched into an entertaining