The Widow's Confession Read Online Free PDF Page A

at the words. ‘It was our duty,’ he said. ‘That is all. And Captain White has gifted us a fine lifeboat,
so we have him, as well as God, to thank for our lives.’
    Behind him, Gorsey was approaching with the young man who had been sitting in the far corner. The landlord was flushed and cleared his throat repeatedly as he approached, in a kind of rehearsal
of what he was about to say.
    ‘I am sorry to interrupt.’ Against all expectations, the young man spoke first. He was a well-dressed pup, thought Edmund, a little rough-looking to suit his manners, with long,
unkempt black hair but fine clothes and a stance that indicated a good deal of confidence. He bowed low. ‘Will you allow me to introduce myself? Ralph Benedict – call me Benedict, that
is all. I am here for the summer.’
    Uncertain introductions ensued. After a moment’s polite conversation, Benedict took a seat at their table without being offered it and leaned back in a relaxed way, flinging his legs out
and crossing them at the ankle. He declined tea.
    ‘Mr Benedict is a painter,’ said Mr Gorsey. ‘He’s the gentleman I told you of, Solomon.’
    ‘Here for the whole season?’ said Solomon in Benedict’s general direction. He had remained on his feet, and his expression indicated that he was no respecter of artists or
gentlemen, other than those who impressed him through their actions. His cool gaze surprised and amused Edmund; it was obvious that the mariner had seen men like Benedict before, in great
quantities.
    ‘I am,’ said Benedict. ‘My wife and children will be taking a villa at Ramsgate for the summer, but I will be spending much time here at Broadstairs. I have to work; I am lucky
that there is a great demand for my work at present. I must make hay, you know, Solomon. And for my current painting, I need your assistance.’
    Solomon said nothing.
    ‘Our Sol is being reticent with you,’ said Gorsey, ‘because there’s already a favoured personage who likes to paint here in the mornings – isn’t that so? Your
Widow of the Sands?’ He gave a pleased little giggle.
    Edmund saw Theo’s eyes flicker to Gorsey’s face, before he looked back down and stirred his tea.
    Solomon seemed annoyed at Gorsey’s words, as though a confidence had been betrayed. ‘There is a lady who comes to paint on the beach in the morning,’ he said, ‘but I have
nought to do with it. Nor do I care to meddle in other people’s business – unlike you, Gorsey.’
    ‘How do you know she is a lady?’ asked Benedict, with a smile that won a sharp look from Theo.
    ‘She is,’ said Solomon, his voice low and firm. ‘There’s many a bad woman dressed in good clothes – I know that – but she is a true lady in her manners and
her expression. Not old, but with a gaze that’s as deep as the sea. Wise. The kind of woman you’d carve on the front of a boat to keep you safe from the waves.’ He said this
without embarrassment, as though it was a matter of fact, plain and simple.
    ‘You can tell he is smitten,’ said Gorsey. Edmund was glad to see that he was not winning points; Benedict was watching the boatman, his expression softened and interested, and he
was not responding to the mocking tone of the hotelkeeper. Gorsey ploughed on. ‘Oh, I have seen her myself – elegant, but unconventional, and Solomon loves that sweet American voice, do
you not?’
    ‘American?’ said Benedict. ‘I think I have met her, the day I arrived. She was on the pavement when Dean nearly drove into your parlour, if you remember. Is she really a
painter?’
    ‘What do you need me for, sir?’ said Solomon, and Edmund saw Benedict put away his curiosity; for all of his roughness, he was a sensitive reader of the expression on the man’s
face.
    ‘I would like you to take me to the Goodwin Sands,’ said Benedict. ‘I’ve heard much of their horrors, but I also happen to know that it is possible to be taken there. I
would pay a handsome amount