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Authors: Jane Jackson
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smell?’
‘That’s the crew’s dinner, madam. Boiled salt pork and split peas. ‘Course, if you was to prefer that to this ’ere cold ham –’
‘No, the ham will do.’
‘Right, madam.’
‘Thank you, Broad. We will manage now.’ Nick said.
‘As you wish, Mr Penrose.’ Taking the empty tray, the steward withdrew.
‘These vegetables don’t look very hot to me,’ Betsy huffed. ‘Lady Russell, may I pass you the –’
‘No, please,’ Judith said hastily. ‘Do help yourself, Mrs Woodrow.’
‘Well, if you’re sure,’ Betsy simpered, and spooned a lavish helping from every dish onto her plate. Shuddering, her husband looked quickly away.
‘Is your journey for business or pleasure, sir?’ Nick enquired.
‘Some family business requires our attention,’ Betsy answered before her husband could respond. Mesmerised, Kerenza watched as she took thick slices of pink ham liberally marbled with fat then topped them with a large dollop of mustard. ‘My husband is a dedicated man, Mr Penrose. Too much so for his own wellbeing.’
‘Please, my dear,’ Donald Woodrow’s smile grew more nervous. His wife ignored him.
‘The drawback to a generous nature is that people tend to take advantage. Sometimes they want more than he is free to give. Isn’t that so, Donald?’
His smile was a grimace of shame and desperation. ‘I don’t think –’
‘That is part of your trouble, Donald,’ Betsy chided with syrupy sweetness. ‘You don’t think. And you are far too willing to believe the best of people.’
He looked at her for a moment, and Kerenza glimpsed the light of battle raging in his tired eyes. But the spark died. ‘As a minister,’ he said quietly, ‘how can I do otherwise?’
‘Do you have children, Mrs Woodrow?’ Judith enquired with a deftness that filled Kerenza with relief and admiration.
A martyred smile twisted Betsy’s mouth. ‘We have not been blessed, unfortunately. I can only conclude that God had a purpose in denying me the joys of motherhood. And that was to ensure I would be free to help my husband in his work.’
Kerenza shot a glance at Donald Woodrow. Round-shouldered, wretchedly miserable, he stared at his empty plate.
‘People have no idea how much organisation is required for a parish to function as it should.’ Glancing from Nick to Kerenza, as if daring them to argue, she focused her gaze and her attention on Judith. ‘Naturally, Lady Russell, you will understand that I refer to a properly-run parish. Of course there are plenty of the other kind. Far too many.’ She sighed. ‘But I suppose one must be charitable.’
‘Indeed, one must,’ Judith agreed gravely. ‘For your vision of an ordered world is one to which few would aspire.’
As Donald Woodrow glanced up, visibly startled, and Nick raised his hand to mask a sudden bout of coughing, Kerenza saw Betsy’s grease-slicked lips purse in a smirk of pride and satisfaction. She thought the remark a compliment.
The meal continued. While Betsy chewed noisily and Judith drew the minister into conversation, Kerenza cut a sliver of ham and a small portion of vegetables into tiny pieces.
The man she hated for the pain he had caused her, who had been the first to touch her heart, was sitting barely an arm’s length away, eating with swift efficiency. And though her throat felt so stiff and tight she was terrified she might choke she knew she must do the same.
Quickly clearing his plate, Nick excused himself to return topside. His departure allowed Kerenza to relax; as her shoulders dropped, she realised she was aching all over from accumulated tension.
‘Would you mind terribly if I had a little nap?’ Judith said when they returned to the cabin. ‘Though my condition has brought me great joy, I do find the constant movement of the ship very tiring.’
‘Of course you must rest,’ Kerenza said quickly. ‘I shall go to the saloon and write to my grandmother.’
‘You would do far better to go
‘That’s the crew’s dinner, madam. Boiled salt pork and split peas. ‘Course, if you was to prefer that to this ’ere cold ham –’
‘No, the ham will do.’
‘Right, madam.’
‘Thank you, Broad. We will manage now.’ Nick said.
‘As you wish, Mr Penrose.’ Taking the empty tray, the steward withdrew.
‘These vegetables don’t look very hot to me,’ Betsy huffed. ‘Lady Russell, may I pass you the –’
‘No, please,’ Judith said hastily. ‘Do help yourself, Mrs Woodrow.’
‘Well, if you’re sure,’ Betsy simpered, and spooned a lavish helping from every dish onto her plate. Shuddering, her husband looked quickly away.
‘Is your journey for business or pleasure, sir?’ Nick enquired.
‘Some family business requires our attention,’ Betsy answered before her husband could respond. Mesmerised, Kerenza watched as she took thick slices of pink ham liberally marbled with fat then topped them with a large dollop of mustard. ‘My husband is a dedicated man, Mr Penrose. Too much so for his own wellbeing.’
‘Please, my dear,’ Donald Woodrow’s smile grew more nervous. His wife ignored him.
‘The drawback to a generous nature is that people tend to take advantage. Sometimes they want more than he is free to give. Isn’t that so, Donald?’
His smile was a grimace of shame and desperation. ‘I don’t think –’
‘That is part of your trouble, Donald,’ Betsy chided with syrupy sweetness. ‘You don’t think. And you are far too willing to believe the best of people.’
He looked at her for a moment, and Kerenza glimpsed the light of battle raging in his tired eyes. But the spark died. ‘As a minister,’ he said quietly, ‘how can I do otherwise?’
‘Do you have children, Mrs Woodrow?’ Judith enquired with a deftness that filled Kerenza with relief and admiration.
A martyred smile twisted Betsy’s mouth. ‘We have not been blessed, unfortunately. I can only conclude that God had a purpose in denying me the joys of motherhood. And that was to ensure I would be free to help my husband in his work.’
Kerenza shot a glance at Donald Woodrow. Round-shouldered, wretchedly miserable, he stared at his empty plate.
‘People have no idea how much organisation is required for a parish to function as it should.’ Glancing from Nick to Kerenza, as if daring them to argue, she focused her gaze and her attention on Judith. ‘Naturally, Lady Russell, you will understand that I refer to a properly-run parish. Of course there are plenty of the other kind. Far too many.’ She sighed. ‘But I suppose one must be charitable.’
‘Indeed, one must,’ Judith agreed gravely. ‘For your vision of an ordered world is one to which few would aspire.’
As Donald Woodrow glanced up, visibly startled, and Nick raised his hand to mask a sudden bout of coughing, Kerenza saw Betsy’s grease-slicked lips purse in a smirk of pride and satisfaction. She thought the remark a compliment.
The meal continued. While Betsy chewed noisily and Judith drew the minister into conversation, Kerenza cut a sliver of ham and a small portion of vegetables into tiny pieces.
The man she hated for the pain he had caused her, who had been the first to touch her heart, was sitting barely an arm’s length away, eating with swift efficiency. And though her throat felt so stiff and tight she was terrified she might choke she knew she must do the same.
Quickly clearing his plate, Nick excused himself to return topside. His departure allowed Kerenza to relax; as her shoulders dropped, she realised she was aching all over from accumulated tension.
‘Would you mind terribly if I had a little nap?’ Judith said when they returned to the cabin. ‘Though my condition has brought me great joy, I do find the constant movement of the ship very tiring.’
‘Of course you must rest,’ Kerenza said quickly. ‘I shall go to the saloon and write to my grandmother.’
‘You would do far better to go
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