Chapter 11

Whilst Millie was sailing through her pregnancy with no problems, other, of course, than those of which all women not unnaturally complain, Caroline’s condition was still causing concern. She was, unfortunately, not a good patient since she wanted to be out working, although she did realise that physically that simply wasn’t possible. Always the more placid of the two sisters she was now developing a temper to match Victoria’s. Jake spent a lot of time with her when he wasn’t working, but with a major business to run that was never enough for her.

Jake had now moved into his uncle’s old suite and it was here that Millie came to seek comfort and reassurance. Even though she was now very close to giving birth she was still an active partner in sexual activity. Jake questioned this with her but she assured him that her mother had told her that if you felt up to it then you should do it. Gently, of course. They were just finished with this activity one night when she felt a twinge of pain and decided that she should retire to her own room. By mid-morning she had given birth to a boy, who, judging by the amount of noise he made, was a good healthy ‘chip off the old block’. When Millie saw Jake she told him that she wanted to name the baby after him. This was, he thought a little too provocative and persuaded her that naming the little chap after her father might be more appropriate and accordingly he became Jack.

Jake was inordinately proud of the baby and made the mistake of telling Caroline just how wonderful he was once too often. This resulted in an explosion of anger from Caroline, calling Millie a harlot with a congenital inability to keep her legs together, and that she should be thrown out on the street forthwith. And furthermore that he, her husband, probably spent all his time in Dublin or London in the company of whores. Jake was completely dumbfounded by this outburst, this sort of temper tantrum was more like Victoria!

Caroline burst into tears.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she wailed. “I really didn’t mean that, I know you don’t, and I know you have plenty of temptation from far better women than that. And Millie is a friend, I know she’s a maid, and she does what I ask her to, but I’ve never thought of her like that any more than I have Evie. It’s just that I’ve got another two months of this and I’m fed up with it.”

Jake gathered her up in his arms and kissed her tears away and she gradually relaxed.

“I hate to say this,” he smiled at her. “But you’ve probably had as much fun with Millie as I have.”

Caroline laughed.

“You’re probably right.” she said. “Nevertheless, our baby will be really special. And don’t you forget it.”

Jake sat with Caroline most evenings, keeping her company. During the day he dealt with all the ups and downs of business, a couple of new vans had to be acquired for the wholesale grocery deliveries, all glossily painted and sign written, premises had to be purchased where the horses could be kept, and ‘Moonfleet’ had to be drydocked for some vital repairs, it seemed that the Yankee schooners were not just speedy, but speedily built and some of the problems were showing. He realised that sooner or later they would need another ship to cope with the increasing traffic, and cover for when one needed repairs. Jake chartered a small brig to cover for one trip, but she had neither the speed nor the sea keeping qualities of ‘Moonfleet’ and her performance to windward when compared to ‘Moonfleet’s’ left much to be desired. A good cargo hauler, but not suitable when time was of the essence.

Almost exactly two months after Jack’s birth Jake was sitting with Caroline one evening when she felt a stab of pain. Jake left her to go and rouse the house to action and was told to leave it all to the women and to go to his study and wait.

It was almost morning and he was asleep in his chair when he was woken by Victoria shaking him.

“Wake up, Jake, and come quickly,” she told him.

Jake shook himself.

“Is there a problem?”

“Come on, hurry,” was all he got in reply.

Upstairs he found that Dr Foster had been sent for and was waiting to speak to him.

“Sir Jacob,” he began, “I’m sorry, we tried our best but I’m afraid there was terrible damage. The babies are fine, but Lady White has suffered a great deal. I fear she will not be with us much longer.”

Jake pushed past the doctor into Caroline’s room where her mother was watching Caroline who was deathly pale and her breathing almost undetectable. He knelt beside the bed and picked up her hand. She opened her eyes and turned her head slightly towards him.

“Jake,” her voice no more than a whisper, “I love you, I’m sorry you are going to have to look after the children without me.”

“But you’ll be alright,” said Jake.

She was silent for a moment.

“No, listen to me. Don’t marry Victoria. She would, but she’s too involved with George.”

She was silent for a few minutes, her eyes closed, her breathing light and irregular.

“I love you, Caroline, I don’t want anyone else.”

Her eyes fluttered open.

“Look after the children, and Millie.”

There was a curious rattling sound and her breathing stopped.

Jake had no idea what to do.

His aunt Lydia moved forward and laid her hand on his shoulder.

“She’s gone, Jake,” she whispered, tears running down her cheeks. “But she left you a son and a daughter to remember her by.”

Jake leaned forward and kissed Caroline.

The funeral was organised. It was attended by a large number of people, and Jake shook a large number of hands. There were a lot of words of condolence none of which he appeared to hear.

It was apparent that he was merely going through the motions of living. No one seemed to be able to get through to him, he was polite, but each person who tried found that they had failed to communicate with him. In the office he merely allowed Dennis to carry on with what he had previously set up and likewise Angelica carried on with her work, although she now had a new escort when she visited ships. Never one to do more than talk to someone who had made a mistake, and ensure that they knew not to repeat it, he now seemed to care little. At home he never joined the family for dinner, taking a snack in his study, although the cook reported to Lydia that he ate very little. His health, both mental and physical were a considerable worry.

This state of affairs had been going on for about three months with everyone wondering where things would end up. Jake had taken to going out for a walk at odd times of the day, wandering about deep in thought. He was walking along the quay one morning, and turned into a narrow lane that led to a wider thoroughfare. As he did so a woman touched his arm.

“Sir Jacob,” she said, “may I speak with you?”

Jake stopped and turned to her.

“It’s Sarah isn’t it?, he said. “You brought Angelica to Caroline, I remember.”

“I did, sir, and hasn’t she grown into a fine young lady. And that Dennis seems very taken with her.”

“She has, and I believe he is,” Jake replied, “but I’m not sure that Angelica is so taken with him.”

“I’m sure we’ll see. She’s quite the firebrand though, the women were very thankful when she got the men back to work on ‘Moonfleet’.”

“She was protecting Underwoods too,” said Jake smiling. “But it’s always good when everyone benefits.

“I expect she learnt that from Miss Caroline, she sorted out that French captain didn’t she?”

Jake actually laughed at the memory.

“Do you know Sarah, when Caroline came into my office she said if I wanted her to whore for me I should give her notice so that she could dress appropriately. Poor Dennis was in shock.”

“You were just like the old Capt’n Jake then, sir.” said Sarah, “We all miss him, and we’d like him back.”

Jake looked straight at her for a moment, and she began to cringe.

“I’m sorry, I spoke...”

“Don’t be,” said Jake. “You have done me a favour with that memory. It’s the first time I’ve laughed since ... it’s how I should be remembering Caroline, not wallowing in self pity. You shall have Captain Jake back. Now, tell me, is there anything I can do for you?”

Jake realised a moment later just how that might be construed when Sarah replied:

“Oh no, sir. I’m giving up that life and getting married.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean ... but that’s wonderful, a good man I hope.”

“Oh yes, sir. Tom, Tom Sprackling, he’s mate on...”

“‘Moonfleet’,” said Jake, “of course, yes, a good man, I know that well. But what about Jerry, I’ve always thought they were inseparable.”

“Oh yes, Captain, they are,” Sarah looked rather coy. “But I’m sure I’ll cope, sir.”

Jake laughed, “Sarah, you’ve done me a big service, as indeed has Tom. I’d like to pay for your wedding breakfast, if you’ll allow me.”

“Thank you kindly, sir,” said Sarah. “We’d be very grateful.”

Jake decided to return to his office. He sat behind his desk and at long last tears came. About twenty minutes later he tidied himself up and rang for Dennis.

“Sir?” Dennis queried when he arrived.

Jake grinned. “Dennis, I’m going to take a holiday, I’ll be away for a couple of weeks. Reckon you can manage?”

Dennis realised that something had changed. It wasn’t that Jake had been unpleasant to work for over the last few months, but equally it hadn’t been a very pleasant time.

“Of course, sir, everything will be fine.” Dennis’s face broke into a smile. “There are one or two things that it would be good if we could look at before you go. By the way, when will that be, sir?”

“Tomorrow, Dennis, so we’ll have a look at any problems now.”

They spent an hour going through the ongoing projects, Jake knowing that Dennis would carry out his instructions and in any case was perfectly capable of the everyday running of the business was happy to leave things in his hands.

Dennis left Jake’s office with a spring in his step, Captain Jake was back!

Jake returned home and sent for Ursula.

“I want a bag packed,” he told her, and gave instructions as to what he would require. Leaving her to this task he went along to the nursery where he found Millie feeding one of the babies.

“Hello Millie,” he greeted her with a smile, “that looks fun! How are they?”

Millie was rather taken aback, this was the first time Jake had entered the nursery, or indeed shown any interest in the children at all since ... Two of them had obviously been fed and the one she had in her arms had finished.

“It’s not a lot of fun, it can make your nipples sore.” she replied.

“Can I hold him?” asked Jake.

“It’s her,” said Millie, “Jack and Georgie are sleeping, and she needs to be winded.”

“How do you do that?”

“Here, spread this towel over your shoulder.”

When Jake had done this she placed the baby so that its head was looking over his shoulder and made sure he had hold of it.

“There now, what you do is just very gently pat her back.”

Jake gingerly started to do this and Millie indicated that he could do it a little more firmly, then she reached up and kissed him.

“Welcome back Jake, I wondered how long it would be.”

Baby Caroline managed a loud burp.

There was some surprise when Jake arrived for supper that evening, and a place was hastily set at the head of the table for him. No one was quite sure what was going on, but there was a general relaxation when he smiled.

“Good evening Aunt Lydia, Mama, William, Victoria, Gina, and Angelica.”

“Jake its good to have you back,” said his mother to general agreement.

“Shall we take our places?”

Everyone sat, Jake said grace and the maids started serving.

“A small announcement,” said Jake, whilst serving was proceeding, “I’m taking a holiday.”

“A holiday?” asked his mother, Florentina.

“Not a grand tour Jake, surely,” said Aunt Lydia.

“No, no. Ten days or a fortnight, no more. I need to get my mind together and there is much to do when I return.”

“Where will you go?”

“Do you remember, William, where ‘Moonfleet’ was supposed to have been built?”

“Somewhere on the west coast of Wales, Aber something, but there’s a lot of those.”

“Aberaeron,” said Jake, “and I’ve a mind to go and see why they thought no one would notice the subterfuge. If you’re interested, and mother can spare you, would you care to come with me?”

William looked at Florentina, and then at Lydia.

“I think that would be a good idea,” said Lydia.

“Yes, I think so too,” said Florentina. “You men go and enjoy yourselves.”

“Looks like my decision has been made for me, Jake. But yes, I think it would be interesting.”

Later that evening Jake was sitting in bed reading when his door opened and Millie slipped in, something that hadn’t happened for some time.

The soft glow of the lamplight reflected off her white nightgown, and then off the almost white skin that was exposed as the nightdress slid to the floor. Millie had been a pretty girl, but now with the bloom of motherhood she positively glowed. She had regained her sylph like figure and her breasts had hardly increased in size despite feeding the babies. She lifted the bedcovers and slid in alongside Jake, her hand finding his manhhood, which had naturally risen to its full height, as she cuddled in to him.

“Oh, I’ve missed this,” she said. “Does it still work? It’d better, I’m going to drain it dry before you see any of those Welsh girls.”

And that was exactly what she proceeded to do.

The sky was just beginning to pale when they finished. Millie suddenly noticed and sat up.

“Damn! I must go, those little buggers’ll be awake and screaming any minute.”

She gave Jake one last lingering kiss and leapt out of bed, grabbing her nightdress as she left.

The next morning, packed and breakfasted, Jake went to see the children. Millie was resting for a few minutes, having fed and changed them. The twins were sleeping, but Jack was wide awake and she picked him up and handed him to Jake.

“Here’s papa,” she told him.

Jake, having no experience with babies, proceeded to chat to the little fellow as though he were another adult, telling him all about his proposed trip, and that Jack’s Uncle William would be going with him. The fact that Jack understood not one word of this didn’t seem to matter, and Jake was rewarded with a smile and some inarticulate noises. Millie giggled at his performance and after a few minutes put Jack back in his cot. She reached up, put her arms around Jake’s neck and pulled him into a kiss.

“Take care,” she told him. “And mind those Welsh girls, they’re all witches, they’ll bewitch you and take you away.”

She pulled away and turned to hide the tears in her eyes, and started folding linen.

“Now, go, and enjoy yourself. And come back safe.”

The two men had a cab to take them to the station, and were seen off by the ladies in an almost carnival atmosphere, so pleased were they that Jake seemed to have returned to his normal self. At the station they caught a local train to Avonmouth where they would find a ship bound for Cardiff. On arrival in Cardiff they sought a good hotel. Consulting their Bradshaw’s Guide they directed the cab driver to take them to the Cardiff Arms, which would be convenient for the train the next morning. Having booked in and been shown their rooms they bathed and changed and made their way to the dining room. Whilst the cuisine might not have been up to the best London hotels, it was, they agreed, a very acceptable standard.

Suitably wined and dined Jake enquired at reception what times the trains for Swansea left in the morning and was told that they left at twenty minutes past every hour. Since there was no particular hurry they decided that twenty past nine in the morning would be quite early enough.

The train proceeded in no particular hurry, stopping here and there and eventually reached Swansea where they left the train for lunch. By mid afternoon a further train had taken them to Carmarthen. This was as far as they could go by train, because although there was a connection to Pembroke further west, there was no line going north. Jake and William booked into The Ivy Bush Hotel and considered their next move.

Upon enquiry they discovered that the only way to proceed, other than by private hire, would be to take the coach for Aberystwyth, which would stop in Lampeter, the nearest point to Aberaeron, overnight, and then via Tregaron to Aberystwyth the following day. From there they should be able to find transport to their destination. The coach would leave Carmarthen at eight the next morning.

After an early breakfast the pair made their way outside to await the coach. A few minutes before eight a normal four wheeled coach pulled by four sturdy mules pulled up. Jake paid the fare to the driver plus extra for their luggage. William asked the driver if the mules would take them all the way to Lampeter, which was not what the driver called the town, but apart from ascertaining that the animals would be changed around midday he was completely stumped as to where that might be. It wasn’t, he decided, that the driver had a heavy accent, the accents in Cardiff had been much more pronounced, but more that the place names were simply outside his experience.

They got up into the coach.

“Well Jake,” said William. “Beyond this point, as they say on old maps, here there be dragons, and who knows what we’ll find.”

Before Jake could reply a rotund lady in hat and cloak arrived in the coach with a squawk of:

“Evan Evans! You mind what you’re doing!”

She grinned at William and Jake and sat herself down. She was followed by an equally rotund gentleman, with a broad grin.

“Evan Evans,” he introduced himself to them, the grin showing a lack of teeth, “and my wife Gwen. Had to give ‘er a hand up,” he winked.

“Jake White” replied Jake

“William Pook,” added William.

“Pleased to meet you gentlemen.” He settled himself into a seat. “Are you going far?”

“Lampeter,” said Jake, “and then we thought we’d take a look at Aberaeron.”

“Aberaeron? A pretty little town, but not a lot there. In fact nothing at all fifty years ago. A reverend gentleman took a fancy to creating his own town and what you’ll see is the result. The wife and I are going home to Aberystwyth, we’ve a department store there.”

They felt the coach lurch as several people climbed up to the outside seats and then there was a loud ‘heaaarrrh’ from the driver, followed by some words in Welsh which probably translated into the questionable parentage of the mules, and the coach lurched forward and then settled down into a brisk walk. The road was fairly good and after a few minutes they reached the toll house on the edge of the town. They crossed the river on a many arched bridge and then the road inclined upwards. Although it seemed to be reasonably well maintained there were still rough areas with large rocks protruding. It was as they bounced over a particularly bad one William spoke for the first time since they started.

“You know Jake, we could have diverted ‘Moonfleet’, and had a much more comfortable journey.”

“We could, I suppose, but we wouldn’t have seen much of the countryside would we?” Jake replied.

“Sounds like you gentlemen are sailors,” commented Evan Evans. “This road is much better than it was before the Rebecca riots, then the toll owners just took the money, didn’t maintain the roads, couldn’t move without being charged.” He paused for a moment in thought. “‘Moonfleet’ now, isn’t she the schooner that runs the service between Dublin and Bristol, we’ve seen her when we’ve been over in Dublin buying for the store. A fine ship, but it’d cost a bit to get her call at Aberaeron, the owners take pride in running close to time.”

Gwen Evans fixed a shrewd eye on Jake.

“You’re not just plain Jake White are you? You’re Sir Jacob White. We’re not so cut off here that we don’t know what is happening in the world. We travel quite a lot buying for the store. And whilst travelling isn’t easy, it’s getting better as the railways are built. They’ll be in Aberystwyth soon. But we do get newspapers.”

Jake blushed with embarrassment.

“My apologies ma’am. It was not my intent to mislead, we were trying to take some quiet time off.”

“Please don’t worry, Sir Jacob. But people here will be delighted to be visited by someone of importance. We see so few,” Gwen Evans told him.

“I will try to remember that,” said Jake, “but the title is quite recent, and I’m not entirely used to it.”

“You are a strange man, if you don’t mind me saying, Sir Jacob. Most would be boasting from the roof tops.”

“Jake,” said William, “you know that your title is only in the Queen’s gift, and if Her Majesty thinks you are worthy then you should rejoice in it.”

“You’re right of course William. I apologise to you all.”

“No need,” said Evan Evans. “My only achievment is in business, and that with the assistance of my wife.”

There was silence for a moment or two as Jake and William absorbed the faux pas.

“So you own ‘Moonfleet’?” Evan Evans spoke more to fill the silence than for any other reason.

“Yes,” said Jake. “But the schedule she’s keeping is causing some wear and she needs to be docked soon, something I must deal with on my return. But it is difficult to find another ship that can keep up with her.”

“Yes, I can understand that.”

They lapsed into a companionable silence for a while as the mules laboured to get the coach up hill followed by being held back on the downslope. Several times they had to get out and walk, but eventually they descended a particularly steep winding hill, crossed a stone causeway over a small stream and pulled up at an inn for lunch and to change the mules. Jake was first out of the coach and handed Mrs Evans down, and was followed by the other two. The inn’s bar was a dark and gloomy room with rough wooden tables and benches, lunch was a bowl of caul, a sort of thick mutton and vegetable soup with a piece of rough wholemeal bread followed by cheese, and accompanied by a mug of ale.

Then there was a visit to the primitive facilities. Whilst this was going on William found himself alone with Mrs Evans for a moment.

“Evan touch a raw nerve when he mentioned help in business from his wife,” she said.

“Yes,” said William. “Jake has only been a widower for a few months, his wife was an essential part of the business. She died in childbirth.”

“Oh, I am sorry, I’ll make sure he doesn’t do that again, he does tend to open his mouth before his brain catches up, but he’s a good man and means well.”

They all got back into the coach and with the driver’s unitelligable stream of curses to the fresh team of mules set off on the second part of the journey.

“Three and a half hours to cover ten miles,” commented William, “another thirteen to Lampeter I believe.”

“Yes, but not so many hills from now on,” replied Evan Evans, “so another three and a half should see us there.”

“It cannot come too soon,” said William.

The afternoon wore on, the coach was now on the road following the river Teifi, so, as Evan had said, it was much flatter and progress was better. Both the Evans’s had nodded off to sleep in their respective corners, Jake and William watched the countryside slip by and a couple of times they glimpsed flat bottomed craft being manhandled up the river. They were a mile short the town when Mrs Evans awoke, followed shortly by Evan.

A few minutes later they crossed the Pont Stefan over the Afon Teifi and into the town. The coach stopped at the Castle Hotel.

After retiring to their rooms to wash away the dust from the road and rest for a while, Jake and William made their way to the hotel’s dining room where they found that the Evan and Gwen Evans had preceded them and were already in conversation with another couple. Jake and William joined them and Evan introduced them to Mr Lionel Jenkins and his wife Jenny. They shook hands, and upon hearing Jake’s title, Mrs Jenkins curtsied as Jake took her hand. Lionel Jenkins was a handsome man of perhaps fifty with a full head of dark hair brushed with grey at the temples, his wife, in her twenties, was a pale slim pretty girl with blonde curls. Jake noted that she was wearing a dress from Victoria’s Secrets.

They were shown to a table, seated, and their orders taken.

“Lionel is a textile merchant,” said Evan, by way of introduction. “Travels all over buying and selling. We buy dress materials from him.”

“Indeed yes,” confirmed Mr Jenkins. “And you, Sir Jacob, Captain, you are here on business?”

“No,” replied Jake, “we’re taking a break, and had a mind to visit Aberaeron, purely on a whim,” a slight stretch of the truth, “although we are both regreting our choice to travel overland. But it does mean we get to meet other people, and find out more about the countryside. As to business, I have a chandlery in Bristol and we trade with Dublin using a small schooner.”

“Sir Jacob owns ‘Moonfleet’,” Evan added.

“I’ve shipped stuff on her, from Dublin,” said Mr Jenkins. “Your freight rates are expensive, Sir Jacob, but the ship is fast and reliable, so it is worthwhile when time is important.”

“You travel to Dublin then?”

“Yes, Irish linen is in much demand. Mrs Jenkins always travels with me, and she particularly likes to shop at O’Briens, don’t you my dear?”

“Oh yes,”she replied, “They have these lovely dresses ready to wear, so fashionable, just like Paris fashions. They’re made by Victoria’s Secrets in Bristol, perhaps you know them Sir Jacob?”

With a laugh William broke off from telling Gwen Evans about India.

“You’re not going to keep any secrets Jake, you’d better tell them the full story,” he said.

“Well,” said Jake, “I suppose you’re right,” he smiled, and proceeded to give an abbreviated account of how the idea had developed and how the business had started.

“So you’ve got a couple of ladies who see the Paris stuff, and bring back sketches.” said Mr Jenkins.

“And then we have to turn them into designs we can manufacture,” said Jake.

“That’s awfully clever,” Mrs Jenkins was obviously impressed.

“What do you do when you have a line that doesn’t sell?” asked Mrs Evans.

“We’ve had dresses that wouldn’t sell in Bristol, but did in Dublin, don’t ask me why,” said Jake, “but I think we’ve only had a couple that just didn’t sell, and those we sold at cost; some servant girls were very happy.”

“I’ll bet they were! But what about sizes?” Gwen Evans went on. “You have to make for Jenny Jenkins and me, and we obviously don’t take the same size.”

“True,” said Jake. “In the beginning we had the ladies of the household measure themselves, and then we did a bit of guesswork. Then we found a retired seamstress and her daughters who have been an immense help. But we had a seamstress on hand at the shop to do any alterations so that isn’t too difficult. We have learnt a lot though, and we have a range of sizes that will cover most ladies. Of course we still have a seamstress but the alterations are usually minimal, and in Bristol we can make a special size in twentyfour hours or less.”

“Could you supply us in Aberystwyth?” Gwen asked.

“I don’t see why not,” replied Jake, thoughtfully. “Yes, it fits in with an idea that I’ve been turning over in my mind. So yes, I think we could. I might need to just wander around the town to get some idea as to what the ratio of sizes might be.”

“Eyeing up the beauties of Aber,” she laughed. “Come and see us when you’ve finished your visit to Aberaeron. From Aberystwyth you can go to Machynlleth for the train, that’ll be much easier.”

It was mid morning the next day before they set off on the final leg of their journey. The weather was fine and they had found a man with a pony and trap who would take them, there being no regular service. Around the halfway mark of their journey they stopped for a lunch of bread and cheese and a pot of ale, arriving at their destination late afternoon. They were dropped outside the Castle Hotel.

“Does every town have a Castle Hotel,” commented Jake.

“Well, every town has a castle, the English kings built them by the dozen, so I suppose that the hotels go with them,” replied William.

They took rooms at the hotel and decided to take a walk before eating. The town had streets of double fronted terraced houses and a fair variety of shops. Walking down to the harbour they could see a number of fishing boats and a couple of full bodied schooners sitting on their keels awaiting the tide to refloat them. Across the estuary they could see that there was a ship yard with a sizeable vessel nearing completion.

“We could go over and have a look tomorrow,” suggested William

Jake nodded. “Good idea, William. See where ‘Moonfleet’ was built!”