Chapter 16: A Ghost From the Past

The arrival of the Plymouth packet always caused excitement amongst the British in Gibraltar, and after a few months there, Harriet felt it, too. Standing in a small crowd of spectators with Lucy, she watched the passengers alight from the vessel, one after the other. They were mostly officers for the garrison and some merchants. Last came a woman, obviously a lady of some means, who travelled with two servants. Harriet looked at her with interest which upon recognition turned into dismay.

“Oh, no!” she groaned. “Not Maggie!”

Torn from her watching, Lucy turned.

“Do you know her?”

Harriet nodded miserably. “I do, and I wager she’ll remember me, too.”

“You don’t like her?”

Harriet shook her head. “No, it’s not that. She hates me, and she has every reason to hate me.”

“Why’s that, Harriet? Surely you did nothing bad?”

“I was mean and condescending. I caused her mortal embarrassment, pain and hurt.”

Lucy put an arm around Harriet. “Harriet, I have known you for five years. You don’t have a mean bone in your body, and you’re never condescending.”

Harriet turned to Lucy. “You never knew me when I was younger. I was spoilt and mean. Oh well, here she comes. Time to face the past.”

Harriet suppressed the impulse to turn and walk away. Gibraltar was too small to avoid meeting the woman. The woman had recognised her, too, and her steps were halting. Finally, the two woman stood face to face.

“Hello, Maggie,” Harriet offered.

“Harriet,” the woman answered icily. “I knew I’d find you here, of course, though I did not expect you as welcoming committee.”

“Th-this is my good friend, Mrs. Wilkes. Her husband, Mister Wilkes is the surgeon in my husband’s ship.”

“Oh yes, that would be the perfect Sir Anthony Carter, of course. You married quite the upstart, didn’t you?”

To her surprise, the scathing remark left Harriet unfazed.

“Some would say that. I hear you married William Maynard. My father says he is one of the most promising officers in the service. You must be very proud of him.”

That was not quite true, but Harriet felt that a little flattering might be in order. Margaret Maynard gave her a suspicious look.

“I meant nothing bad, Maggie,” Harriet added with a sad smile. “Look, I know that I treated you horribly back then. It has been on my conscience ever since. I want you to know that I regret my behaviour. I have learned the truths of life since then, and I hope that I am not the stupid and arrogant snoot anymore that I was then. I offer you my apologies.”

“You don’t have to worry. My husband is above such matters, and he will not take it out on your husband.” She saw Harriet’s question. “Oh, I guess you don’t know it yet. My husband replaces Sir Winston Keller.”

Harriet felt the blood leave her face. Now she was causing trouble for Tony again, dangerous trouble. She whipped her brain to give the appropriate answer.

“Any other admiral than Keller is a vast improvement already. You are right though. I did not know that. I did not apologise for that reason, either. I apologise because I have long since come to realise how despicable my behaviour was. I wish I could make it undone, and that is the truth. I shall leave you alone now. If you decide that you can accept my apologies, I shall be happy to help you in any way I can.”

No answer came forth, and Harriet could see renewed hurt and distrust in Margaret Maynard’s eyes. With a sad smile, Harriet turned and led Lucy back to their house.

“Whatever did you do to her, Harriet?” Lucy asked after they entered the house.

Harriet let herself fall into one of the upholstered chairs, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

“We were both attending Miss Porthouse’s Institute back then. I was almost sixteen; it was my last year there. Maggie was there, too. She was a misfit in everybody’s eyes. Her father was a mere sailing master. He’d had some luck with prize monies it seemed, and he wanted to give his only child a good education whilst he was at sea. Can you imagine how she was treated? She was a doormat for us. We thought we were so much better. I think some of us were worse than me, but not by much. We’d put her down at every opportunity.

“The strange thing was, she was always following me and trying to be my friend. It became so obvious that the others taunted me over it, and it made me angry at Maggie. She was a perfect pupil, too, always trying to please the tutors, and that angered us even more. The tutors always used her as example. The other girls egged me on; they wanted to play a big prank on her, and so one evening, before inspection, I smuggled a print into her things. Philomena Burkett had smuggled it in; it was a picture of a naked man.

“Of course, it was found. Maggie cried and pleaded, swearing she had never seen it before, but of course, nobody believed her. Miss. Porthouse took a riding crop to her naked back, in front of the entire institute, and they left her standing with her raw backside for the full night. They almost expelled her.”

“How did she know it was you?”

Harriet heaved a sobbing sigh.

“She came to me afterwards, pleading with me to be her friend again. She was beside herself. And I did the most terrible thing: I told her I wasn’t her friend. I told her I had slipped the picture into her things. I said I had no use for her at all. She just fell apart before my eyes. I began to feel bad then, but the other girls were watching, and I did not dare to be nice to her. She never spoke to me again until today.”

“That was a terrible thing to do, Harriet,” Lucy said with emphasis. “I cannot reconcile this with the Harriet I know. I mean, you knew I had even been a convict. Still, you took me in and became my friend.”

“I grew up, Lucy. I left those other girls behind when I followed my father to Kingston. Most importantly, I met Tony. He just swept all those snooty ideas from my thinking. There was another reason, too. The story made the rounds and my mother learned of it. You know her, and you can imagine what she did.”

“She whipped you?”

“She went to Miss Porthouse and demanded to know how many lashes Maggie had received. I received exactly one more than Maggie. I also went without food for three days, and she brushed off any visitors I might have. She had me move to Kingston with her and Andrew. Of course, I would have never met Tony without that.”

Lucy shook her head. “If anyone would have told me this outlandish story, I would have laughed at it. Does Anthony know anything about it?”

“No, I never told him. This was so far back in my past, and I am still ashamed over it.”

“As you should, Harriet. You know that I think the world of you, but that makes it worse for me. You must gain her forgiveness.”

“You’re not setting an easy goal for me, but you are right. I have learned a few things in the last years, and one of them is that if you apologise you must mean it.”

As it turned out, Lucy was the first to meet Mrs. Maynard again. The two women almost bumped into one another in Mister Tarifa’s wine and cheese store. Mrs. Maynard was ill at ease, but Lucy greeted her friendly, leaving her little choice but to answer in kind. They talked a few moments about the wares available at Mister Tarifa’s, but Lucy noticed something.

“Forgive me if I am prying, Mrs. Maynard, but you seem to suffer some discomfort. Is anything wrong?”

Taking a deep breath, Mrs. Maynard answered in a whisper.

“I need to find a privy. I don’t know what it is in the last days; I seem to always need to go.”

Lucy’s eyebrows shot up.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, in an equally low voice.

“A little,” Margaret Maynard admitted.

“Is there perhaps blood in it?”

“There was some in my night pot.”

“Oh dear, you seem to have a sore bladder. We must act at once before it can worsen. Tell me, did you drink plenty during the passage?”

Mrs. Maynard shook her head.

“No, there was only ale and water, mostly, and I am not partial to ale. The water was worse than usual, and I drank only a few cups of tea.”

“You must drink a lot, my dear, especially in this warm climate. Herbal infusions and teas, preferably. Fortunately, I have bearberry leaves, horsetail, and birch leaves at home. Come with me. I’ll show you how to prepare the teas.”

“Are you ... knowledgeable about healing?”

“My father was an apothecary and herbalist. He taught me most of what he knew. Also, my husband is a member of the Royal College of Surgeons. I fear you have to settle for my help, for there is little of which Gibraltar can boast in the way of the medical professions save for the regimental butchers.”

“You are very kind, Mrs. Wilkes. Where do you live?”

Lucy’s face fell. “Oh, I live with my friend, Lady Carter. If that makes you uncomfortable, I could bring my ingredients to your home.”

“She is your good friend?”

“The best friend in the world,” Lucy answered without hesitation. “She is the most kind-hearted and loyal woman I ever met.”

Margaret Maynard could not help but offer a short snort. Lucy continued in a soft voice.

“She confessed everything to me; what she did to you back then. You must believe me, the Harriet you knew over ten years ago is no more. She grew up into a wonderful woman. She meant what she said to you. If I may say so, if you believe that your lot was terrible, it was nothing compared to the torment Harriet went through.”

“You mean the beating her mother administered? I heard. Her mother came to me, to apologise. She told me about the caning, too. It was nothing. It was done in private. She did not have to stand around with her bloodied back in front of the entire school.”

“No, I meant the ordeal of being married to her first husband, a scoundrel of the worst possible nature. I meant losing her unborn child to the brutality of that man. I meant despairing of ever being united with the only man she ever loved. I meant reading in the newspapers that her true love was mortally wounded in battle; a misinformation, thank God! In spite of this, she was a friend to me, and she lent her strength to another orphaned girl.”

“Moira Palmer,” Margaret Maynard said tonelessly. “We had an argument, a few months back, over Harriet’s character.” A smirk appeared on her lips. “I thought she’d tear my eyes out; she was that scary.”

“Yes, Moira, the third in our quartet of unlikely friends.”

“Who would be the fourth, then?”

“Why, Anita Heyworth of course.”

Margaret Maynard shook her head.

“Another story I heard and never believed. Can it be that I am that wrong about her?”

“No,” Lucy answered. “You are right about the condescending and mean snoot you knew, but you are wrong about the woman into whom she grew. Do yourself a favour and get to know that woman.”

Just then, another spasm hit Mrs. Maynard.