Stay with Me

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Also by Jessica Blair

  The Red Shawl

  A Distant Harbour

  Storm Bay

  The Restless Spirit

  The Other Side of the River

  The Seaweed Gatherers

  Portrait of Charlotte

  The Locket

  The Long Way Home

  The Restless Heart

  Time and Tide

  Echoes of the Past

  Secrets of the Sea

  Yesterday’s Dreams

  Reach for Tomorrow

  Dangerous Shores

  Wings of Sorrow

  For more information about Jessica Blair visit

  www.jessicablair.co.uk

  Stay With Me

  JESSICA BLAIR

  Hachette Digital

  www.littlebrown.co.uk

  PIATKUS

  First published in Great Britain in 2009 by Piatkus Books

  Published by Hachette Digital 2010

  Copyright © 2009 by Jessica Blair

  The moral right of the author has been asserted

  All characters and events in this publication, other than

  those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious

  and any resemblance to real persons,

  living or dead, is purely coincidental

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

  A CIP catalogue record for this book

  is available from the British Library

  eISBN : 978 0 7481 1747 5

  Typeset in Times by Action Publishing Technology Ltd, Gloucester Printed and bound in Great Britain by MPG Books, Bodmin, Cornwall

  This ebook produced by JOUVE, FRANCE

  Papers used by Piatkus Books are natural, renewable and recyclable products made from wood grown in sustainable forests and certified in accordance with the rules of the Forest Stewardship Council

  Hachette Digital

  An imprint of

  Little Brown Book Group

  100 Victoria Embankment

  London EC4Y 0DU

  An Hachette Livre UK Company

  www.hachettelivre.co.uk

  www.piatkus.co.uk

  For Jill

  whose bright light guided me through dark waters

  Acknowledgements

  I thank my four children for their continued support and encouragement in my writing life. Without them the enjoyment would not be as complete. They are always interested in the development of my latest novel. In this one Judith played an active part, vetting the work as it progressed; Geraldine read the work in its entirety and made suggestions for clarity; Anne and Duncan were ever ready to enquire the progress I was making and thereby spurred me to get on.

  I must thank Kate Strachan, Assistant Archivist National Meteorological Archive and Hazel Clement of the Met Office for information about the weather conditions in 1879.

  I also must thank all the staff at my publisher Piatkus for their help and support, particularly throughout the period of becoming an imprint of Little, Brown.

  All my Jessica Blair books have been expertly and sympathetically edited by Lynn Curtis, this one no less so. Thank you, Lynn.

  Chapter One

  From her home, high on Whitby’s West Cliff, twenty-three-year-old Pauline Carnforth gazed across the River Esk to the older part of the town where red roofs stepped their way up the cliff towards the ancient church and ruined abbey. Her hazel eyes, wide and alert, did not linger on that aspect for more than a moment but sparkled anew when her gaze passed to the view upstream which, for her, was the best in her home town on the Yorkshire coast. A swing bridge spanned the river; beyond, masts and rigging of all manner of vessels resting at the quays trellised the clear sky. It was Christmas Eve 1879. The bustle on the quays was winding down but in two days the ships and quays would be swarming with people again: merchants having a word with their captains, clerks hurrying with manifests, stevedores being harangued to forget their hangovers and prepare their ships to sail to distant shores. Sailors would curse their superiors under their breath and labourers would groan under the heavy crates and bales they heaved on board.

  Pauline brushed a stray strand of dark brown hair back into place, sighing, and wishing, not for the first time, that she had been born a boy, able to sail to the farther reaches of the ocean, to see the magical worlds that lay beyond the horizon and do all the things a girl was not allowed to by this strait-laced society. Not that she was dissatisfied with her lot; she counted herself lucky to have a broad-minded, loving mother, an understanding father, and to want for nothing, knowing she enjoyed her privileged position because of his hard work and astute mind.

  John Carnforth had inherited his father’s yawl at the age of twenty, when the older man had been lost at sea while herring fishing. John was already steeped in the same trade, but saw it as a means primarily of furthering his ambitions to become a ship-owner whose vessels would trade with every part of the world. In this ambition he had been equalled by his good friend Albert Nash who had matched him with a similar enterprise.

  They had become rivals, but the rivalry was friendly with each man prepared to help the other. The two powerful mercantile firms prospered alongside each other in Whitby and the respective families became close.

  Even though it had become customary for them to spend Christmas Eve together, alternating as hosts, they followed the recognised custom of sending out invitations three weeks before. This year Jennie Carnforth had sent the invitations and had received replies within twenty-four hours as etiquette demanded.

  Pauline recognised the sound of her mother’s footsteps; she did not turn round but curled her long fingers around her mother’s when she came and stood beside her.

  ‘You love that view, don’t you, Lena?’ commented Jennie in the gentle Scottish lilt she had never lost in the twenty-four years she had lived in Yorkshire.

  ‘I do, Mama. It’s one I will never forget. You’ll be looking forward to leaving it and going to Dundee, I expect?’

  ‘Of course. Being with my family at Hogmanay is always special.’

  ‘You still miss them then?’

  ‘Yes, but I bless the day your father, following the fleet south, decided to put into Dundee to celebrate his birthday. It was love at first sight for us both, and I was lucky to find a man willing to take on a widow with a son. James was but two at the time.’

  ‘And you were prepared to leave your home and come to Whitby?’

 
‘I would have followed John anywhere, and with my family’s blessing, too. I’ve never regretted it. Your father understands that I miss them sometimes, though, and has insisted every year that we spend New Year in Dundee.’ A faraway lilt had come to Jennie’s voice and her eyes seemed to be focused on something beyond the view from the window. A moment passed; she started. ‘I think we had better stop chatting,’ she announced light-heartedly, ‘and get ourselves ready. It won’t be long before the Nashes are here.’ They both turned away from the window and headed for the door. ‘What are you going to wear, Lena?’ she asked her daughter.

  ‘I thought my new green dress, if that doesn’t clash with yours?’

  ‘It won’t. I’ll wear my light blue.’

  They parted on the landing, each going to her own room. Lena turned the highly polished brass knob and pushed open the heavy oak door to hers.

  ‘Ah, miss, there you are!’ The maid looked up from a pile of clothes she was folding. ‘I’m sorting your underclothes for your visit to Scotland. Will you see if . . .?’

  Lena dismissed the rest of the query with a wave of her hand. ‘You know what I’ll want, Sarah.’

  ‘Yes, miss.’ The girl was pleased to be trusted with the choice. ‘Which dresses, miss?’

  Lena crossed the room to a large hanging cupboard. She flung open the double doors and, without hesitation, said, ‘That, that and that.’

  ‘They’re all day dresses, miss. You’ll need an evening dress.’

  ‘The red one then. I’ll wear the green this evening. Now help me get ready for our guests.’

  ‘Yes, miss.’ Sarah’s eyes brightened. She had loved the bustle and excitement of party days ever since she had come here, six years ago as a fifteen-year-old, to work for the Carnforth family. Soon afterwards she became Miss Pauline’s personal maid as well as helping with more general duties in the house.

  An hour later, her toilette completed, powder and scent applied, the green dress fitted and smoothed into place, Lena viewed herself in the cheval glass positioned to take full advantage of the light from the room’s tall sash window. She gave a little nod of satisfaction, pleased with the choice she’d made when she had consulted her dressmaker two months ago. The dress fitted closely to the waist, emphasising her bust and hips. The high-necked bodice of Valenciennes lace gave way to green silk that flared out in a series of ruffles below the small bustle. Green bows circled the elbows from which the sleeves came tight to the wrist. A small circular calotte decorated with tiny ribbons of silk and lace nestled on her head, complementing her dark brown hair that had been swept up from the nape of the neck.

  ‘Oh, you do look lovely, miss!’ Sarah’s eyes were wide with admiration but she blushed crimson then, realising she was out of place in making such a personal observation to her mistress.

  Lena smiled generously and put her maid at ease, ‘Thank you, Sarah.’ She gave one more glance at herself in the cheval glass and left the room.

  As she started for the top of the stairs she heard a door open behind her, and turned to see James coming out of his room. He raised his eyebrows in admiration.

  ‘You look extremely well, Lena. A new dress? It suits you.’

  She smiled as she acknowledged the compliment. It pleased her that her brother always commented on her appearance.

  ‘Wait until you see the red one I bought at the same time!’

  ‘Saving that for Dundee?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes.’

  He held out his arm so that he could escort her down the stairs.

  ‘It will have to be something to better that one,’ he said. ‘It gives you a real aura of elegance. I’m sure Alistair will approve.’

  She caught the teasing twinkle in James’s eyes and countered with, ‘And no doubt you are out to impress Olivia.’ Her brother cut a fine figure, at just over six foot tall, his dark hair, almost black, and rugged features that combined with a gentle manner to make him a very presentable young man. His dark eyes were usually alert with interest and whoever came under their gaze felt drawn to him. Tonight the black cutaway coat, grey single-breasted waistcoat and matching grey trousers he wore were tailored to perfection, to reveal his slim athletic figure.

  He gave a little chuckle. ‘Father would be pleased if we both married a Nash.’

  Lena’s answering laughter confirmed this. It was indeed likely that such matches would please John Carnforth.

  Their mother and father were already in the drawing-room, enjoying a glass of Madeira. When Lena came in John rose to his feet and his eyes dwelt admiringly on his daughter. ‘You look very fine,’ he commented.

  Lena smiled and inclined her head in thanks.

  ‘And you too, James,’ he added quickly, careful always to treat them equally and never give his step-son the impression that he was any less valued.

  Jennie had always been grateful for her husband’s attitude towards her son. Once James had reached the age to understand, she had explained his true parentage but without question he regarded John as his true father.

  He came to his mother now, holding out his hand for her to take while she stood up. ‘Let us look at your dress and see our two lovely ladies side by side,’ he suggested.

  Jennie, flattered that he should be interested, took his hand. This was her son all over, a natural charmer.

  ‘That dress is just right for you, Mama,’ Lena approved, her eyes drifting over the pale blue silk bodice and skirt with matching peplum. Tight sleeves fell from the covered shoulders where a lace neck-line mirrored the trim around the cuffs and dust ruffle.

  Jennie flicked her skirt with her fingers and did a small twirl before standing alongside Lena, both of them flattered by the attention the men were giving them.

  ‘Now, Madeira for you both,’ said John, crossing to the decanters and wine glasses set on a table on the opposite side of the room from the ornate fireplace. Once he had served them he resumed his chair and fished in his waistcoat pocket for his half-hunter. He glanced at the time and returned the watch to his pocket. ‘Another half-hour,’ he commented, and relaxed in his chair as if gathering himself for the lively evening to come.

  James glanced at his sister and winked, then spoke to his father. ‘Still wearing the same waistcoat, Father?’

  John looked sharply at him. ‘I’ll have you know this is new.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you get one like mine?’

  ‘Black’s more befitting.’

  ‘Oh, Papa, you’d look so handsome in light-coloured trousers and waistcoat,’ put in Lena, playing along with her brother. ‘Wouldn’t he, Mama?’

  Jennie saw the twinkle in her daughter’s eyes. ‘I’m sure he would,’ she agreed.

  ‘Now don’t you start, Jennie,’ countered her husband.

  ‘You should adopt the modern trends,’ James argued.

  ‘Older men still wear black.’

  ‘Oh. So if you consider you are old, where does that put me?’ His wife assumed a hurt expression while trying to suppress the twitching of her lips.

  ‘Now, Jennie, I wasn’t implying that you—’ John stopped talking when he realised that he had risen to their bait once again. It happened every time his choice of clothes was mentioned. He held up his arms in surrender. ‘All right, I’ve fallen for it again, but you still won’t get me to change.’

  ‘You’re too conservative, Papa,’ said Lena. ‘I’ll bet Uncle Albert has been more forward-looking.’

  John gave a grunt of contempt. ‘What? He’s more staid than I am.’

  ‘Well, maybe,’ James granted.

  John missed the knowing look that passed between James and Lena and on to their mother.

  The tap of a maid’s footsteps across the hall, heading for the front door, heralded the arrival of their guests. They were all quickly out of their chairs and into the hall to greet their friends who were being shepherded into the house. Two other maids, ready to take the new arrivals’ outdoor clothes, swiftly appeared.

  ‘Ge
orgina!’ Jennie hurried forward to greet her dear friend. They had been close ever since John had first brought his bride to Whitby, and Jennie had never forgotten the way her friend had helped her settle in to what was to her a strange land. They embraced, and all around them warm greetings were being exchanged.

  The handshake between John and Albert marked a friendship that had endured since their schooldays. It had survived the trials and tribulations of herring fishing and the move to greater things, their trading across the world bringing wealth not only to themselves but benefiting the economy of their home town too. The Carnforth and Nash families were highly regarded in Whitby because of it.

  While Jennie and John were welcoming their good friends, their sons, with merriment in their eyes, were talking in the low easy way that only comes with long acquaintance. As different as they were in what they wanted from life, James planning to follow his father and Alistair to become a doctor, their friendship was still close.

  As they turned to Pauline and Olivia, who were also busy exchanging greetings, James caught Alistair’s dark blue eyes alight admiringly on Pauline before his own exchanged a glance with Olivia. She inclined her head in acknowledgement and felt the nervous quiver inside that she always did when James greeted her this way.

  ‘Isn’t Pauline’s dress beautiful?’ commented Olivia with genuine appreciation.

  ‘Yours equals it,’ replied Lena. It was plainer than hers, without so much lace, but its simple unfussy lines suited Olivia, as did the yellow silk faille trimmed with pale blue. ‘Don’t you think so, James?’ she added, knowing Olivia hung on every word her brother uttered.