Time & Tide

by Jessica Blair

Genres: Sagas

Synopsis

The death of her mother in 1813, brings added responsibility to seventeen-year-old Anna Mason. A self-confident girl, she has to shed her girlhood sooner than she would have expected as she assumes many of her mother's tasks in running the household of Hawkshead Manor. Julian Kirby, a family friend, is entranced by Anna but she doesn't feel she is able to return his affections while her father remains so devastated by his wife's death. However, whilst Anna's father, John Mason, is an outwardly respectable merchant operating out of Whitby, he is also the brains behind a leading smuggling operation in the district. And with his focus elsewhere, his business - legitimate and otherwise - is at risk; a fact which may have serious repercussions on the Mason family and Anna's future when she stumbles on the truth...

Release date: November 10, 2011

Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group

Print pages: 400

Sample

The insistent thrumming of a horse’s hooves brought Anna’s head up sharply from the ‘The Lady of the Lake’. She was sitting
on the window-seat of her bedroom in Hawkshead Manor. The urgency of the sound sent a shiver of foreboding down her spine,
blighted the bright sunshine of this almost perfect day in the summer of 1813.


She looked out of the open window oblivious to the well-kept lawns that sloped gently away from the house to the valley below
where oak, Scots pine, beech, ash and larch clothed the landscape. The view that usually soothed and reassured her did nothing
to quell her mounting sense of unease today.


Anna focused on the rider who was bent on reaching the Manor as quickly as possible. Jack Crane, the under-groom! He had accompanied
her mother on her morning ride. Though Elizabeth Mason was a competent rider, her husband John always insisted that one of
the grooms accompany her in case of accident. Anna knew her mother considered this to be namby-pamby but she made no objection
nor criticism of her husband’s concern, for she knew it arose from his deep love for her. Now Jack was returning alone!


For a moment Anna sat transfixed, too stunned to contemplate why Jack was unaccompanied. Then she leaped from the window-seat,
cast her book to one side and ran from the room. She was along the landing in a flash and raced down the stairs as fast as she had ever done in all her seventeen
years. The black and white chequerboard of the marble floor was a mere blur beneath her flying feet in her haste to reach
the front door. She flung it open and ran into the sun-filled air, feeling no joy in it today. Her steps faltered as she stood
undecided what to do next.


‘Father!’

How he came to be there she never did find out. Had he too felt alarm on hearing the rapidly approaching horse or had word
come to him after an observant servant had recognised the rider? The queries remained unspoken. It didn’t matter. He was there
and Anna felt some consolation in his presence. But she sensed his inner tension as his arm came round her shoulders seeking
comfort as much as giving it to a seventeen year old facing imminent tragedy.


She heard footsteps behind them and knew, without turning, that they belonged to Charles, her brother, two years older than
herself. He came to stand beside his father.


Anxiety heightened in the little group when they saw the rider’s face drawn tight, not only by the exertion of the ride but
also by the news he reluctantly carried.


He pulled the panting horse to a halt at the foot of the terrace steps. ‘It’s the mistress, sir,’ he gasped. ‘She’s been thrown.’

John Mason’s immediate question, one he did not want to voice in front of his children, was in his eyes. He knew Jack had
read it correctly when an almost imperceptible nod came in return. It struck him like a blow from a heavy hammer. He felt
numb yet his mind roared, pleading for this not to be true. Although he felt frozen in this moment when happiness became a
stranger, he was already bursting into action.


‘Get me a horse, quick!’ he called to Jack who was already anticipating the order by turning his mount towards the stables.
‘Wait here,’ he said to Anna and Charles. ‘I’ll be back as soon as possible.’


‘I’ll come with you, Father.’ Charles started towards the steps.


‘No, stay with Anna!’ John called over his shoulder as he ran from the terrace.

She moved closer to Charles and took his hand in hers, drawing strength from his touch. Later, that moment would remain vivid
in her mind as the time when she left her girl-hood behind and assumed the responsibilities that had been her mother’s.


In a few minutes their father and the groom appeared, setting their horses to an urgent gallop. Anna and Charles watched them
race across the countryside until they were lost to sight.


Silently, brother and sister leaned heavily on the stone balustrade, hardly daring to move, as if their remaining still would
prevent the unthinkable happening.


The rumble of iron-shod wheels penetrated their shocked minds. A horse and trap appeared driven by the head groom. He had
harnessed it quickly after being given the news. Moving clear of the house, he put the horse into a brisk trot.


Anna glanced at her brother. ‘Oh, Charles, is …’ There was no need to say any more. Her tear-dimmed eyes and the catch in
her voice completed the question.


He moved closer to her and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. ‘We can only wait,’ he said with quiet resignation,
and then added with an attempt at reassurance, ‘It may not be as bad as we expect.’


Half an hour later the small cortège came into sight. Brother and sister stared at it anxiously. The trap, driven slowly,
was followed by their father, his shoulders slumped, his head bowed. Jack had taken up the rear, slightly to one side of his
master but in close attendance.


Anna and Charles had sensed from the aura around the small procession that their worst fears were realised. They came down
the steps from the terrace as the trap stopped. Anna had been watching her father anxiously. She saw the pain of tremendous loss etched on his face. The impact of tragedy was there for all to see. Her heart went out to him. This
should not be happening to a man of forty-three who had always brought joy in his wake. Now he swung from the saddle as if
he was carrying a heavy load, his expression frozen in a mixture of disbelief and resigned acceptance of what had happened,
knowing there was nothing he could do to reverse the tragedy. He should be swinging from his horse with all the gay abandon
she had seen in him so many times, mischievous laughter on his face as he came to help his vivacious wife from her mount.
Anna could almost see them coming up the steps, arms around each other, laughter on their lips and in their eyes, two people
joyously in love and not embarrassed to let anyone see it.


Now her father moved ponderously from his horse. He seemed to see his children for the first time. Anna caught his expression
and it brought tears streaming down her cheeks as she rushed to him. She flung herself at him, her arms encircling his waist
as if she could impel comfort into a body racked with pain. His arms came round her but they carried none of the warmth that
she knew so well. Then Charles was beside them, his arms round them both, trying to be strong for them all but knowing he
was failing pitiably. They stood clinging together in their shattered world.


‘I must see to things.’ John’s voice was scarcely above a whisper. He eased himself from them and they had to let him go.
He went to the trap, stood there for a moment. The head groom and Jack were already waiting, their faces solemn. He nodded
to them. They knew what they had to do. Slowly they eased their mistress’s body from the trap and carried it with reverence
up the steps and into the house. John and his children followed. Word had spread quickly through the house and Mrs Denston
the housekeeper, Mrs Fenton the cook, three maids and two footmen, were standing at the foot of the stairs, their faces grave and tearful for they knew they had lost not only a charming and thoughtful employer but a friend as well.


The head groom and Jack laid the body carefully on the bed and then retreated quietly, leaving the family alone.

Anna stared at her mother, hardly able to believe that she would not wake up, turn her head, smile and speak, for at this
moment Elizabeth appeared to be in a tranquil sleep. There was no mark on her face, nothing to show that she had been fatally
injured.


The three of them stood beside the bed, silent, each feeling a loss they had never expected. A world had collapsed around
them, a world that but an hour ago was normal, filled with life, in which an unsullied future stretched before them. Now the
atmosphere in this room was heavy with grief. A darkness had descended upon it in spite of the brightness of the day beyond
the windows.


A bewildered Anna, standing between her father and brother, needed comfort. She let her hands slip slowly into theirs. For
a moment there was no response, then she felt their fingers tighten on hers as if that would give her strength to understand
what had happened. A few moments later she sensed a slight tremor in her father’s hand. She glanced sideways at him, fearing
something terrible was happening to him. She saw silent tears streaming down his face. She could never describe the shock
she felt at that particular moment. Her father crying! She had never seen him do so. She had not thought it in his nature
even though she knew him to be a sensitive man in many ways. The enormity of seeing a man of forty-three crying impinged on
her mind with a force that made her heart go out to him, wanting to ease the pain he must be feeling. Her own seemed trivial
in comparison.


Throughout her life she had witnessed the love that these two spirited people had shared, a love that had enveloped her and
her brother in a cocoon of reassurance and safety, one that had spilled beyond the immediacy of their own needs to be shared
with others too. Now so much had gone with that silent figure on the bed. Tears came to Anna’s eyes and flowed down her cheeks. No sobs racked her body and in that
there was all the more torture, for the depths of her feelings were all confined to silent suffering. Concern for Charles
caused her to steal a glance at him. Through blurred eyes she saw that he shed no outward tears but from his grim, shocked
look of incomprehension she knew he cried inwardly for the mother they had both adored.


Elizabeth had brought light and laughter to Hawkshead Manor. Her marriage in 1793 to the eligible twenty-three-year-old John
Mason when she was twenty-one had been the wedding of the year in Whitby. How others had envied her the young man who had
inherited his father’s merchant business at twenty-one, who was handsome with sparkling blue eyes that missed nothing, could
tease and be serious, and whose tall figure was slim and athletic. He had a sharp mind that was matched by hers and together
they had built on the goodwill and enterprise the elder Mason had created. They had expanded and taken a second ship to trade
with the Continent. Anna knew how much her mother was involved in the business and ready with advice, even though she kept
in the background. She knew her father had counted himself more than lucky to have married such a clever woman but also one
who made any man’s head turn, for Elizabeth was regarded as a beauty in Whitby and the surrounding area. Anna had heard people
say that it was a match made in heaven and as she grew older hoped that one day people would say that about her own marriage,
when and wherever it happened.


But now what did the future hold? How would her father cope without his beloved Elizabeth? Overwhelmed by his tears, sensing
the devastation he was feeling and seeing the slump in his body, she knew he faced a bleak future sunk in the darkness of
utter and irredeemable loss.


Anna’s eyes were fixed on the face as pale as the pillow on which it lay. Her tears stopped. They would flow again she had
no doubt but not at the moment. It was as if her mother had told her she would always be there for her and that she wanted her to be strong in order to fulfil a new role,
for the sake of her father. Anna felt a strength she did not know she had. She hoped it would be with her through the trying
months ahead.


High on the cliff at Whitby, where a gentle summer breeze played with the grasses, Elizabeth was laid to rest. Her grave lay
amongst those of sailors who had perished when the sea had raised itself in anger. The old parish church was full to overflowing.
The sorrowful atmosphere at the grave-side had filled the vistas of land, sea and sky as people watched the coffin lowered
into the ground and then expressed their sympathy to John and his children as they left them to their final grief at the edge
of the open grave.


The carriage came to a halt in front of the main entrance to Hawkshead Manor. The old house seemed to hold a sorrow of its
own at the loss of the spirited woman who had once walked its corridors and filled its rooms with life. At the same time it
seemed to Anna that it wanted to help, to ease the pain of the man, his son and daughter who had been at one with the lady
it had lost. Anna resolved that she must gain the assistance of the house that had so much character of its own and had returned
the love John and Elizabeth had given it. Anna felt she had gained an ally and with it came renewed confidence to face the
future.


The door of the carriage was opened by a groom and Charles stepped to the ground. He turned to help his sister and then they
both stood to await their father. He moved wearily out of the carriage, his eyes cast down. He did not speak. His movements
were slow and heavy as he climbed the four steps on to the flagged terrace that stretched the full length of the house. Anna
and Charles followed.


The glass door was opened by one of the maids who had stayed behind so that they would be in attendance when the master returned.
They took his coat and those of Charles and Anna and informed them that some refreshments had been put in the dining room though they knew little would be wanted as something
had already been arranged for the mourners at the Angel Inn in Whitby. That interlude had been a trial for Anna and Charles
for they had seen how much their father was suffering, having to receive so many sympathetic words and glowing tributes to
his wife. Thankfully they would now have a quiet time to themselves.


John sighed the deep sorrowful sigh of one bowing to the inevitable. He started towards his study.

‘Some refreshments, Father?’ said Charles.

He shook his head but did not utter a word.

‘You should have something,’ Anna pleaded. ‘You had nothing at the Angel.’

He did not reply, but opened the door to the study, stepped inside and closed it behind him.

She started after him but Charles laid a restraining hand on her arm. ‘Not now,’ he said. ‘Let him have some time to himself.’

‘But …’ Anna started to protest, her face showing deep concern for her father.

‘He’s grieving, Anna. Let him alone,’ her brother advised.

‘But I’m worried for him. Will he ever get over this loss?’

‘He must. He still has a life to live. It will be hard but he has us and we must do all we can to help ease the pain for him.’

Anna nodded. She knew Charles was right, but that it would not be easy for either of them. They had their own suffering to
deal with.


Charles took her by the elbow to the dining room. ‘Something to eat applies to you as well.’

They found a tray of cold ham, pickles and bread arranged at one end of the long oak dining table. As she took the first mouthful
Anna realised how hungry she was. The rigours of the funeral must have held her hunger at bay but now the past had gone and the present imposed itself. Surely her father must be feeling the same? He had had nothing at
breakfast and had refused every offering at the Angel. She must see that he had something before long.


When they had finished their meal Charles bowed to her suggestion that they take something to John. She put some ham and bread
on a plate and they went to the study.


They found him slumped in his chair behind his large mahogany desk, staring vacantly at its surface. He did not look up when
they entered the room and made no acknowledgement when they placed the tray in front of him.


‘Father,’ Anna said quietly, ‘do try and eat something.’

He shook his head. His eyes were lifeless. Anna was horrifed by what had replaced the lively brightness she had always known.
‘Please try.’ Her plea carried the tone she had used as a child, one which always melted her father’s heart so that he never
refused her wish. But now there was no reaction. She glanced at her brother, seeking help.


Charles stepped beside his father and rested his hand on his shoulder. ‘Do try.’

John shook his head.

‘You should.’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘Very well,’ put in Anna quickly. At the same time she signalled to Charles that they should go. ‘We’ll leave it here in case
you feel like having something later.’ She turned for the door and was followed by Charles.


‘I don’t think he’ll touch it,’ he said as the door closed behind them.

‘I know,’ replied Anna. ‘But we made progress in there.’

‘Progress?’ Charles was puzzled.

‘Yes. Don’t you realise that, apart from the brief words he used when he accepted condolences, those were the first words
he has spoken all day. In fact, they were the first words he has spoken to us since …’


‘You’re right.’ Charles’s doubtful expression lightened when he realised the truth of her words.

‘So it’s a start. Hopefully we can build on it. In fact, we must.’


‘From his attitude at the moment it will be hard.’

‘I know. Mother is lost to us too.’ A catch came to her voice. ‘But she wants us to rise above it and take care of Father.
We must, for her sake. I’ll go and see Mrs Denston and together we’ll have a word with Mrs Fenton to plan something tempting
for Father at the evening meal.’


Charles watched his sister walk away. She seemed so much more grown-up. A new maturity had come over her from the moment her
mother’s body had been laid on the bed. Though he had taken care of the funeral arrangements to relieve his father of the
disagreeable task, he had found reassurance in having a sister to consult, one who was ready with suggestions. A new role
had been thrust upon her and she was not one to shirk responsibilities. Charles was thankful for the new woman who had emerged
from the tragedy without the loss of the younger sister he loved.


Anna left the domestic quarters half an hour later satisfied with her interview with Mrs Denston. The kindly lady whom she
had known since she was six had always run the household with understated efficiency that held the respect of the other staff
and had, with the minimum of consultation, left her employer free to devote herself to helping her husband’s mercantile business.
Anna had indicated that she wanted Mrs Denston to carry on with her duties as she had always done and said she hoped they
could work together as amiably as the housekeeper and her mother had.


Mrs Denston’s attitude had been reassuring, for over the years she had come to regard the generous Mason family as her own.
She had watched this girl grow towards a fine young woman and had seen in her in the last week a full blossoming that she
admired. She knew that Anna, though her heart would be hurting for many a day yet, would cope with the new responsibility
that had come to her early in life.


Anna crossed the hall towards the stairs. She paused and glanced at the study door. She felt a welter of feelings for her father. She wanted to run to him and cry with him but, knowing
that would only add to his misery, ran quickly up the stairs to her own room where she flung herself on the bed and let the
tears of exorcism flow. As they subsided, she started in surprise. She twisted over, eyes wide, ears alert. A voice? Her mother’s?
It couldn’t have been. Just the sighing of the wind, surely.


Again?

‘Don’t weep for me. Don’t weep for yourself. Live your life.’


‘Mother?’

Anna sat up in bed. Her eyes looked round quickly, searching but knowing no tangible form would fit the voice whose words
and meaning were clear in her mind.


It was seven o’clock in the evening when Charles tentatively pushed open the door of his father’s study. He found John still
seated in his chair, still staring at the desk in front of him.


Charles’s heart was heavy. His own mourning had been spent sitting on the terrace looking out across the lawns that fell away
to the natural beauty of the valley his mother had loved so much. He knew he would always find communion with her there, a
place where nature’s sounds enhanced its appeal and the distant murmur of the sea sent out a special call of its own. He remembered
how he used to admire the way she handled a horse and the patience she had had when she was teaching him and Anna to ride.
Such a skilful horse-woman – how had she come to be killed doing something she loved? He had thrust the question from his
mind and allowed the vision of a beautiful lady with laughter on her lips to replace it. That was how he wanted to remember
her.


Now he wished his father could do the same.

‘Father, our meal is ready,’ he said as he crossed the floor.

His father did not seem to hear him. Charles was filled with anxiety. What could he do? ‘Father?’

He looked up at his son and nodded.


Charles’s heart raced. A response. He must handle this carefully. ‘The meal is ready.’

‘Very well.’ John stood up somewhat reluctantly, but, though he wanted to be left alone in his study, deep down he knew that
it would hurt his son and daughter if he did not respond to their solicitude. He straightened his coat, and stepped from behind
his desk.


‘Hello, Father.’ Anna’s effort at brightness belied the anxiety she’d felt when he and Charles entered the dining room. Her
hopes that her father had thrown off some of the demons that she knew must have haunted his mind ever since her mother’s accident
were dashed when she saw his drawn, solemn face. It bore no resemblance to the man who but seven days ago took life with joy
and exuberance, viewing each day as a new adventure to be shared with his beloved Elizabeth.


She shot her brother a questioning glance and received in return a grimace that told her he saw no change in his father though
his appearance in the dining room might be taken as a step forward.


That it was not soon became obvious. John merely picked at his food and stared most of the time at his plate with unseeing
eyes. Anna’s and Charles’s attempts at promoting some sort of conversation were met with silence. It seemed he did not hear
their words. Halfway through the meal he laid his napkin on the table, stood up and left without speaking.


Concern was etched on Anna’s face and her eyes filled with pity. She shot a cry for help at her brother and received a look
which said, ‘Say nothing. Let him go.’ The silence that hung between them charged the room with helplessness until they heard
the door of their father’s study close.


‘Charles, what can we do?’ Anna’s plea came from the heart.

‘I don’t know,’ he replied with a sad shake of his head. ‘I wish I did.’


‘We can’t go on like this. He’s spending all his time in the study. He leaves most of the meals that Mrs Denston sees are
taken there untouched. I thought we had achieved something when you got him to come to the dining room this evening, but you
saw what happened.’


‘I was hopeful too. Something will have to be done. There’s the business to see to also.’

‘Has he never mentioned it?’

‘No.’

‘Thank goodness he took you into it when you were seventeen.’

‘Yes, I can help run it, though Gideon Wells is a capable manager and after fifteen years with father knows our affairs inside
out. He can’t make deals, though. Father always did that. There are some contracts coming up for renewal in three weeks and
I don’t know whether he will want to renew them. He must get back to work.’


‘Then we will tackle him about it. But first we must find the right time to do so.’

That opportunity did not come for two weeks. In the intervening days an air of depression hung over Hawkshead Manor. John
Mason spent most of his time in his study. He rarely came out, and meals taken there were merely picked at. He never ventured
to the dining room again though each mealtime Charles came to fetch him. Brother and sister dined alone.


Each day Charles’s concern for Anna grew as he saw the weight of the situation begin to take its toll on her. Her healthy
colour was disappearing for she wouldn’t leave the house in case her father suddenly needed her. Night only brought a heightening
of her worry. Her father would waste away physically and mentally if something was not done. Those thoughts brought tears.
If he wasn’t aware of his own needs, wasn’t he at least solicitous of hers? She had lost a mother with whom she was close. Now more than ever she needed a parent’s love and support to mend a broken heart. She could
not go on like this much longer.


Charles did get a break from the heavy atmosphere when he went to Whitby about business matters, but that also brought problems
as the day for renegotiating several contracts grew nearer.


He came home late one afternoon to find Anna desperate and determined. He could tell something was wrong the moment he came
in the front door for she appeared immediately and hurried across the hall to him. ‘Charles, a word. Now!’ she said in a voice
that would brook no refusal. She led the way to the drawing room.


She swung round to face him as soon as he had closed the door. He saw her agitation bordered on anger. He had never seen his
good-natured sister like this. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.


‘We’ve got to do something about Father,’ she said with such force that he knew there had been trouble.

‘What’s happened?’ he asked in a calming tone.

‘Mrs Denston tells me that Father has become insulting to the maids who take his meals to the study. They go to a lot of trouble,
do it quietly, and now he is telling them to make less noise, and that if they don’t they can leave. Apparently he rails at
them in foul language if they offer to draw back the curtains. They have been complaining to Mrs Denston who has tried to
keep things on an even keel but today the maids said they would all leave. They used to be happy here but now … If they do
go we’ll get no one else. Word will soon get around about their reason for leaving. Desperate times need desperate measures.
I’m going to tackle him, but I want your support, Charles.’


‘You have it.’

‘Right. Come on.’

She flung open the door of her father’s study, breaking the habit of a lifetime – she did not knock first. Without altering
her pace, without a glance at her father, she stormed across the room and drew back the curtains with a vigorous swish.


‘Do the others, Charles!’ she ordered tersely.

He was already on his way to another window.

Light flooded into the room.

Anna swung round to see her father sitting behind his desk. Papers he had been flicking through by the light of an oil lamp
were strewn across his desk and littering the floor.


‘Open a window and get the smell of this lamp out of here,’ she called to her brother. She went to the desk and blew the lamp
out. ‘This has got to stop, Father. We cannot go on like this.’ As much as the sight of the broken man disturbed her she was
determined not to hold back and summoned all her resolve to go on. She stood firmly before him. Her heart was full of pity.
The man she’d once idolised had vanished in the space of a few weeks. But somewhere beneath that drawn, pale face and haggard
look she believed the person who’d once filled the house with joy and laughter was still there. That person needed rescuing.
She had entered the room full of resolution to do that even though she knew it might be a formidable task. But she took heart
from what she saw might be a chink in the armour he had drawn around himself. Though his hair was long he was clean-shaven.
There must be a little pride left for him to accomplish that task on the occasions he briefly left his room.


His sunken eyes moved to meet her gaze. She wanted to rush round the desk and take him into the comfort of her arms, but knew
that was not the way.


‘We can’t go on l