The Old House at Railes: A heartwarming rags to riches Victorian family saga

by Mary E. Pearce

  ‘As it happens,’ Martin said, ‘I was on my way to call on you.’

  ‘With what object, Mr Cox?’

  ‘Firstly to say how much I regret your decision to return to America.’ Martin, as he spoke, motioned Yuart to one of the chairs at the fire-place, but Yuart, with a gesture, declined. ‘That regret, I am quite sure, will be felt throughout the whole district, and with good reason. Your family has been connected with the Cullen Valley for many generations. Your cloth was sold on three continents. Sadly, in the past three years, that tradition has been broken, but I think it would be a thousand pities if it were to be broken forever.’

  ‘Perhaps I should thank you, Mr Cox, but I don’t quite grasp your motive in speaking to me in this way, and frankly I am suspicious of it.’

  ‘If you will only bear with me, and give me a little of your time, I would like to explain myself and put certain proposals before you which I’m sure ‒’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Cox, but I’m in some hurry to see my wife. I would ask you not to detain me.’

  ‘May I speak to you afterwards?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. I have considerable business on hand and it will take most of the day.’

  ‘What about tomorrow? Can I see you then?’

  ‘It seems I shall have to be blunt,’ Yuart said. ‘The plain truth is, Mr Cox, that there is nothing you could say to me that would be of any interest whatever. Now I really must insist that you allow me to see my wife.’

  Martin perforce had to comply.

  ‘Very well. If you will wait in the morning-room, I’ll ask Mrs Yuart to come to you.’

  Yuart gave a nod and turned away. He went into the morning-room and after a while Katharine joined him there. She kissed him and sat down on the couch, but he chose to remain standing.

  ‘I have just had some talk with your friend Cox. He was good enough to express an interest in my plans for the future and to say what a pity it is that I should think of severing my connection with Chardwell so decisively. He shows the same stubborn inclination to concern himself in my affairs that he has shown in the past and seems unable to understand that his opinions are a matter of indifference to me. However, it happens, coincidentally, that in this particular instance, his views and mine are the same for once. I have come here this morning, Katharine, to tell you that I have changed my mind. I am not going back to America.’

  ‘Not?’ Katharine said. She caught her breath.

  ‘No. I’ve decided to stay in England. In the Cullen Valley, where I belong. I came to tell you without delay because I know, from what you said yesterday, that it will be a relief to you.’

  ‘Oh, Charles! A relief, yes. If you only knew ‒’

  ‘I can see for myself what it means to you. Your look tells me that, without any words.’ He came now and sat down with her, taking her hands into his own. ‘Indeed, your manner does much to compensate for your cold reception yesterday.’

  ‘Whatever my manner yesterday, I hope you will make allowances, Charles. It was a shock to the children and me, that you should come back without warning like that, when we had thought you were lost to us. And the news that we were to leave England ‒’ Pausing, she collected herself. When she spoke again, her voice was calm. ‘Tell me why you have changed your mind.’

  ‘Yesterday, when I left you, my mind was in something of a turmoil. I kept thinking of what you’d said ‒ how upset you were on hearing my plans ‒ so before dining at the inn I went for a walk round the town, to get my thoughts into some sort of order. Then I walked out along the valley, beside the Cullen as far as Craye, then along the bank of the Leame and round by Holsey and Cresswater.

  ‘It was not intended to be a sentimental journey. I had thought, in the past three years, that Chardwell meant less than nothing to me. I even thought I hated it. But as I walked about the town ‒ even more when I walked in the valley ‒ I knew I’d been wrong. Passing the mills, especially … John Jervers’ and Daisy Bank … Unity Mill and Brink End … Hainault, too, though I didn’t go close … I began to think what a fool I was. Hearing the clack of the looms again and the thud of the stocks … seeing the mill-folk at work in the yards … the smoke going up from the chimneys … even the reech from Burley’s Dye House … all these things made me think, “Damn it, this is where I belong! Cloth is my trade. It’s in my blood. For good or ill, my place is here!” I suddenly felt, with certainty, that I was ready to start again. In spite of what’s happened in the past, I knew I could still be a clothier, and win back something of what I had lost. Be part of the life of this district again. And that is what I intend to do.’

  There was a silence. He looked at her. And she, responding to that look, leant forward and kissed his mouth. Her hands pressed his in thankfulness.

  ‘Oh, Charles, I’m so glad! Not only for myself and the children but for you as well. It’s the right decision. I’m sure it is.’

  ‘Oh, yes, there’s no doubt about that, because last evening, after my walk, I called on Alec Stevenson and talked matters over with him, and Alec tells me that Tom Maynard of Loxe Mill has been advertising for a working partner. Loxe is a fair-sized mill at Obank, which specializes in the cheaper suitings; but at least Maynard’s cloth is good of its kind, not like the rubbish they make at Kendall’s. Maynard, it seems, is a sick man and needs someone to run things for him. Anyway, Alec thinks it worth a try, so I called at Loxe before coming here and left a note for Maynard, asking to see him at ten o’clock.’

  Charles rose, somewhat abruptly, and stood looking down at her.

  ‘Alec told me something else. It seems the Hurnes over-reckoned themselves when they bought Hainault and for some months past it’s been let to Robert Cornelius who pays scarcely more than a peppercorn rent. Alec thinks when the lease runs out there’s a good chance of my getting it.’

  ‘Charles, that would be wonderful.’

  ‘Yes. But that as yet lies in the future. My immediate business is at Loxe Mill and I think it is time I was on my way there.’

  Katharine rose and accompanied him out to the great hall. He stood pulling on his riding-gloves.

  ‘Are the children here?’

  ‘Dick’s gone to school. At this moment, probably, he will be telling the headmaster that we’re leaving England in a few days. Susannah is upstairs in her room. We were sorting her clothes, ready for packing, when Amy came to say you were here.’

  ‘You will still need to pack your clothes,’ Charles said, ‘for I shall be taking you out of this house as soon as I’ve found suitable accommodation.’

  In another moment he was gone. She heard him riding out of the yard. Behind her, from the stairs, Susannah spoke.

  ‘What did Papa want, Mama? Did he come to hurry us up?’

  ‘No, my darling, he brought good news.’ Quickly, Katharine crossed the hall. ‘We are not to leave England after all. He has changed his mind. We’re to stay here in Gloucestershire. ‒ In the Cullen Valley. There, now, what do you say to that?’

  ‘Oh, Mama! That is wonderful news!’ A flutter of white organdie skirts, and Susannah was in her mother’s arms. ‘Oh, I was thinking so badly of him! But now ‒ dear Papa! How good he is! I wish Dick was here to share the good news. Can I go to Petty’s and tell him, Mama? And where is Martin? We must tell him!’

  From across the great hall, unnoticed till now, Martin stood watching them. He had come in from the stable-court.

  ‘What is it that I must be told?’ he asked.

  But Katharine, turning to meet his gaze, could see that he had already heard.

  Chapter Twelve

  Thomas Maynard was a stoutly built man in his early fifties, with a broad, blunt-chinned face, cheeks somewhat red-veined above a growth of greyish-brown whisker, and a pair of piercing blue eyes, good-humoured but shrewd, under jutting grey brows. He and Charles were barely acquainted; in earlier days, at meetings of the Clothiers’ Association, they had sometimes exchanged a few words together; but that was all. So today, in the
office at Loxe Mill, they met virtually as strangers, as Maynard himself remarked when, after a formal handshake, the two men sat down, facing each other across the big shabby desk, littered with bills and order-books, samples of wool and snippets of cloth.

  ‘We have lived very different lives, Mr Yuart. You were always prominent in the town’s affairs, whereas I played no part in them at all, which means that although we are almost strangers, I know quite a lot about you.’

  ‘In other words, Mr Maynard, you know that I failed at Hainault Mill and as a result was made bankrupt. There cannot be any soul in the Cullen Valley who does not know that.’

  ‘I also know that you then vanished from the district completely, leaving your wife and children behind. There was plenty of talk about that, most of it to your discredit, I fear.’

  ‘Yes. I can well imagine that. And no doubt there will be plenty of talk again now that I’m back.’

  ‘Does it not worry you?’ Maynard asked.

  ‘I shall try not to let it,’ Charles said.

  Maynard looked at him steadily. Then he consulted a letter which lay before him on the desk. It was the one Charles had written, asking for this interview.

  ‘You’ve been in America, prospecting, you say. And profited by it, obviously. Which brings me to the point of your visit. Mr Stevenson referred you to me so presumably you know what it is I’m looking for.’

  ‘Yes. He gave me a copy of The Gazette, containing your advertisement. In it you ask for a working partner, with a thorough knowledge of the cloth trade, willing and able to take responsibility, and with twenty thousand pounds to invest in your mill.’

  ‘Do you have that much money, Mr Yuart?’

  ‘No, I do not. But knowing you for a sound businessman, I judge that you don’t really need the money, except as an earnest of my conscientious commitment to the mill. Well, I have ten thousand pounds to invest, but as it is all I’ve got in the world, save what I need for immediate expenses, my commitment could not be more complete.’

  ‘Any applicant could say that.’

  ‘According to what Stevenson told me, you’ve been looking for a partner these three months or more, so far without success.’

  ‘Yes, that’s true. Those men I have seen so far have shown more optimism than sense. If they had all been knocked into one, they would not have made what I’m looking for.’ Maynard paused. His eyes searched the younger man’s face. ‘What I want is a man who knows every aspect of the trade. A man with energy and enterprise. A man who will run this mill for me as I have run it myself in the past.’

  Speaking with some vehemence, Maynard leant forward and thumped with his fist upon the desk. But the action made him red in the face and he leant back, breathing hard, pressing his hand against his chest. After a while he spoke again.

  ‘In the past two years I’ve been subject to attacks of bronchitis and they’ve weakened my heart. My doctor says I must take things easy. Do half a day’s work instead of a whole. Keep out of the loom-shops because of the dust. In other words, Mr Yuart, this mill, which has been my whole life, must now be only half my life! Still, with the right kind of man to help me, at least the mill need not suffer. The question is, are you the right man? You know the trade ‒ none better ‒ but you failed at Hainault nevertheless. You took too many risks, Mr Yuart. That won’t do for me here at Loxe. I am a cautious man myself and in this trade caution pays.’

  ‘I made mistakes and I paid for them. That experience, you may be sure, left me a wiser man.’

  ‘It left your creditors wiser, too, since your debts were never paid in full.’

  ‘I lost every single thing I possessed. They could scarcely have had more from me.’

  ‘Mr Yuart, I will speak frankly. I have no sympathy to spare for men who take the risks you took and run up debts they know they can’t pay. If, as you say, you lost everything, it was only what you deserved. However, you are not the only clothier to have failed in this district. Nor are you the only one who couldn’t pay his debts in full. And there was one thing at least in the sorry affair that redounded entirely to your credit.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Charles said, somewhat stiffly.

  ‘Yes. According to what I heard at the time, your creditors were prepared to accept whatever payment came to them from the sale of your business assets alone, and would not have pressed for the sale of your home. Presumably you knew that, and it says much for your rectitude that you chose to sell it all the same.’

  Charles, white-lipped, met Maynard’s gaze.

  ‘It was, as I’m sure you’ll agree, the only course open to a gentleman.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Yuart. I can see the subject distresses you.’

  ‘Certainly it is one that I prefer not to discuss.’

  ‘Then I will return to the subject in hand. You say you have ten thousand pounds to invest. Where is it?’

  ‘It is in San Francisco. I have already written to the bank there asking for a draft to be sent to me immediately. It will take perhaps six or seven weeks to come.’

  ‘Why didn’t you bring it with you?’

  ‘Because I intended returning there. But I changed my mind. For one thing, my wife was upset at the idea. For another, my own roots are here, and they proved stronger than I had thought.’

  ‘Well, I’m certainly prepared to consider you as a partner, Mr Yuart. Subject to further discussion, of course. But one point must be clear from the start. I want a man who will make up for my own deficiencies, and I am willing to pay him well, but he ‒ you ‒ must understand that I intend to remain master. Nothing is to be done without my approval. All decisions will rest with me.’

  ‘I understand perfectly. I would feel the same myself. You need have no fear, Mr Maynard, that I wish to take Loxe Mill from you. In fact it is only right to tell you that in time, as my position improves, I intend to set up again for myself, in a mill of my own. However, as it can only be in a small way at first, I shall be perfectly well able to manage both mills, without any detriment to either.’

  ‘H’mm.’ Maynard’s blue-eyed gaze was keen and there was a hint of amusement in it. ‘With ten thousand pounds at your disposal, you could set up in business by yourself just as soon as your draft arrives. There are plenty of mills to let in this district. You could even afford to buy one so long as you were prepared to start small.’

  ‘I am aware of that. But after what happened at Hainault, beginning again by myself would present a great many problems.’

  ‘Quite so. Problems indeed. Whereas, in partnership with me, in a business that’s known to be steady and sound, you can ease yourself back into the trade, quietly, by the back door, as it were. Put plainly, Mr Yuart, I am to provide you with my protection while you find your feet again.’

  ‘Yes, if you choose to see it that way.’

  ‘I like to see things the way they are. But don’t misunderstand me ‒ I have nothing against the arrangement. It suits me right well. You, as my managing partner, will give this mill the time and energy that I can no longer give it. In return I will pay you eight hundred pounds per annum, plus a share of the overall profits commensurate with the value of your capital investment. I will also provide the protection already mentioned ‒ my good reputation in the trade. That seems fair enough to me. Indeed, I think it’s a good enough basis for us to get down to details, don’t you? I can then get Mr Stevenson to draw up the deed of partnership so that when your draft arrives from San Francisco he’ll have it ready for us to sign. Are you agreed?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Right. I’ll get Anstey, my clerk, to come in and bring my ledgers for you to see. You’ll want to know what fettle we’re in. Not so good as it might be, I’m afraid. Our profits were fifteen per cent last year but I’m hoping soon to improve on that. In fact I’ll go so far as to say that it’s up to you to see that we do.’

  ‘I will certainly do my best.’

  An hour and a half later, the two men again shook hands. They had reached an a
greement. And although the terms of the partnership were not entirely to Yuart’s liking, he was on the whole well satisfied. The financial rewards of his new position were reasonably good. Good enough, anyway, to provide the basis for future enlargement.

  As Maynard’s manager, Charles began work at once, acquainting himself with every detail of the mill’s capacity and performance, and making notes for improvements. By the end of a month he knew every man, woman, and child employed there; the work each did and how well it was done. He knew every loom and spinning-machine and the idiosyncracies of each; and of course he knew all the types of cloth; what orders there were on the books and who the mill’s best customers were.

  During these early weeks he drew a monthly salary, but as soon as his banker’s draft arrived from San Francisco and was paid into the Loxe Mill account he became, officially, Maynard’s partner. The deed of partnership was signed and sealed and the ten thousand pounds thus invested began earning its share of the profits. The duration of the partnership was set at three years only, but if these early days were anything to go by, his future at Loxe looked secure enough. The mill was already efficiently run but Charles, energetic, ambitious, determined, brought new ideas; a new impetus; and Maynard was soon offering a few cautious words of approval.

  ‘You’ve got the same drive that I once had. But something seems to be driving you. You should think of your wife and children sometimes. A man’s work is worth more if he takes some recreation sometimes, especially with his family.’

  Charles, though he smiled, made no reply. Maynard, the elder by ten years, was inclined to speak in this fatherly way, though Charles did his best to discourage it. He liked his partner well enough but had no desire whatsoever to allow any personal element into their relationship. Maynard himself was a widower, and his only living relatives were a widowed daughter and her infant son, who lived with him at Patesbridge. Maynard might hint ‒ and sometimes did ‒ that he and Rose would enjoy meeting Mrs Yuart, the former Miss Tarrant of Newton Railes, but these hints fell on deaf ears. Obviously, Maynard thought that because Charles had fallen from his former position as an independent clothier, and now occupied a subordinate one at Loxe, it placed the two men on an equal footing. In this he was mistaken; their partnership was purely a business one; and Charles intended to keep it so.