The Heart of a Bluestocking

by Renée Dahlia

  ‘Fresh bread is so satisfying, don’t you think, Mr Thackery?’ she said, with a tiny wink for Ravi. His mouth stretched into a lopsided grin. Mr Thackery merely nodded.

  ‘Especially first thing in the morning, when the air is sharp and fresh, and the company reflects that,’ said Ravi. ‘How do you like your bread, Dr Carlingford?’

  ‘Warm, with a dash of butter, and perhaps a touch of something spicy,’ she said.

  Mr Thackery coughed. ‘I don’t care for bread, although I must say, Mr Carlingford, please compliment your cook. This soup is lovely.’

  ‘How can you not care for bread?’ Claire blurted.

  ‘It is peasant food,’ said Thackery.

  Claire glanced at Ravi and saw the twinkle in his eye.

  ‘I expect you think that unleavened bread is only for savages,’ he said.

  Claire coughed as Mr Thackery sneered.

  ‘You would know all about that,’ said Thackery. Mother tittered as Ravi’s face closed down.

  ‘Now, now,’ said Father. ‘Mr Thackery, how about you expound your theory on mass marketing for us.’

  Mr Thackery cleared his throat and puffed out his chest.

  ‘Must we discuss business during dinner?’ said Mother.

  ‘Mother, name a night when we haven’t discussed business at dinner. Yes, I know you wish for additional proprieties for the sake of our visitors, but given that they are both employees, perhaps we could dispense with the pretence of society manners,’ said Claire.

  ‘What have I told you?’ said Mother in a fierce stage whisper. Claire shrugged her left shoulder and kept her gaze on her soup. She slowly lifted a small spoonful into her mouth.

  ‘As you are aware, Mr Carlingford, there is huge opportunity in catering to the middle classes as this nation rises out of the Depression that has caused such chaos in other nations,’ said Thackery.

  ‘Here, as well,’ said Claire. ‘The price of iron has halved in the last fifteen years.’

  ‘And yet, the production has doubled. We have done well through the process of turning iron ore into steel for various manufacturing products,’ said Mr Carlingford.

  ‘The competition in the financial sector is becoming too strong. I firmly believe we need to broaden the base of the business,’ said Thackery.

  Claire muttered under her breath, ‘that would suit you, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Excuse me?’ said Thackery.

  ‘Would this broadening of Carlingford’s business empire extend to domestic concerns?’ she said.

  ‘Ribbons and other fripperies?’ said Thackery.

  ‘No. Plenty of businesses already cater to the frivolous wealthy. I refer to domestic machinery that will free up middle and lower class women from the drudgery of housework,’ she said.

  ‘I see. You are one of those man-hating suffragettes who wants to remove a hard working man’s small comforts,’ said Thackery.

  ‘Creating machinery that assists women to improve a man’s comfort is hardly man hating,’ said Ravi.

  ‘Yes! Besides, the whole point of the suffragette movement is not to tear down men, but to make women rise up to be their equals,’ she said.

  ‘It is pointless. Everyone knows that a woman’s brain is smaller, less able to think rationally at the required level,’ said Thackery.

  Claire laughed.

  ‘And Father, to think you wondered about this man and his possibilities,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, I see precisely what you mean,’ said Father with a wide grin that wobbled the edges of his moustache.

  ‘A match with Mr Thackery is the best that Claire could hope for,’ said Mother.

  ‘And I believe I would make an excellent addition to the Carlingford family,’ said Thackery.

  Claire glanced at Ravi who huffed out a laugh that he covered with a cough. He wiped his mouth with his napkin, and she did the same to hide her smile.

  ‘Excuse us,’ said Father. He stood up and looked pointedly at her. ‘Come with me, Claire. We need to talk.’ She rose to follow him, keeping her eyes firmly on Father’s back. She didn’t want to see the smug smile on Mother’s face, surely her expression would reflect a certain joy at her removal from dinner. A brush of hot fingers against her shoulder made her whirl around to face Ravi.

  ‘Do you need me to come too?’ he whispered. She shook her head, and wrapped her own hands in her skirts, not wanting to rest her hand on her shoulder where his brief touch branded her skin.

  ‘No. Make yourself useful and interrogate Mr Thackery,’ she said. He grinned. She turned away before her body betrayed her.

  ‘Close the door.’ Her father sat, with a slight slump, in the chair behind his enormous desk. She shut the door with a quiet snick, and turned towards him, stopping in front of the desk with her hands hanging loose at her sides. The usual light in his eyes, that focused drive of the tycoon, had dimmed. Not a lot, but now that she stood here staring at him, she saw the tiredness.

  ‘Are you ill?’ she said.

  ‘There is no need to doctor me. I understand now why you think this Thackery is a fortune hunter.’

  ‘It’s obvious.’ She waved her hand before her.

  ‘Ahh, Rach. I used to be much better at picking them.’ He rubbed his eyes, while Claire blinked. Did he just call her by her middle name?

  ‘Don’t blame yourself, Father. Mr Thackery is a particularly clever fortune hunter. Look at the way he sidled up to you and Mother, making himself useful to you both, rather than just concentrate on me,’ she said.

  ‘His idea is a good one. Compelling.’ Her father sat up straighter and shuffled a few of the papers on his desk. Claire ground her teeth together.

  ‘Wil and I brought it up at the board meeting several months ago, and you told Wil that you didn’t want to invest in retail while we had so many other projects happening. And now, some charmer turns up with our idea, and you allow him the funds to run it. I think you are ill.’ A lock of her hair fell down the side of her face as she shook her head. It tickled her neck and she shoved it behind her ear.

  ‘I’m not ill, Claire.’ His eyes flashed at her, and she took a half-step backwards as the full force of his personality came to life in his face. She smiled as her concerns for his health were washed away by this simple evidence.

  ‘I’m glad to hear that. Have you had a lot of stress lately? Maybe all I saw was tiredness,’ she said.

  ‘There is no hiding from it. Carlingford Enterprises has become unwieldy. Mistakes like Mr Thackery occur because I don’t have time to dedicate to every sector. That’s why I want you to take over. You have youth and energy to consolidate the businesses and take them to the next stage.’ He slammed his fist on his desk. She opened her mouth to argue with him, but closed it again as she tried to find a new strategy in the face of this new information. The smell of ink and leather that permeated this office reminded her of childhood conversations when he’d puzzle over a problem aloud while she scribbled pictures on scraps of paper beside him.

  ‘Perhaps we should have a strategy meeting, and work out a way forward that is sensible.’

  ‘Remember those early days when we used to sit around in that dusty little cottage and throw wild ideas about?’ He paused and shook his head. ‘No, I don’t imagine you do. Yes. Yes, a strategy meeting to determine the best direction is exactly what we need. That’s why I need you on this team.’

  ‘Yes. I agree to be on the strategy team,’ she said with a note of caution.

  ‘But not to take the final step?’

  ‘No, Father, the timing isn’t right.’ Her gentle response to his persistent question could only be due to Ravi’s influence. Before she’d met him, she’d been inclined to place her hands on her hips, and speak bluntly. Now she understood all the complexities a bit more. Although why Father insisted on her, and not her brother Wil, was a mystery yet to be solved. The job wouldn’t be right for her for another fifty years or more. But how could she disappoint him, her champion?


  ‘Nothing will convince you?’ he asked.

  She shook her head slowly. ‘Perhaps we should return to dinner. The next course should have been served by now.’

  ‘Get Clemton to send mine in here. I have work to do,’ said Father.

  She nodded her head once to acknowledge his upset dismissal, and left the room. She closed the door to his office quietly, and inhaled deeply. Dinner with Ravi, a fortune hunter, and Mother. It would be awkward with Mother and Thackery gushing, but at least she could share a quiet laughing glance with Ravi. Just as long as she didn’t start to rely on him. She let out her breath, and marched back to the dining room with her head held high. Time to give Thackery a taste of a man-hating suffragette, or at least, the appearance of one. She rather admired many men for the world they had built for themselves. And Ravi … was she ready to admit to herself that she admired, no, liked him? If it wasn’t for that kiss, that swoon-worthy kiss, she’d easily have kept apart from him.

  She swept into the room.

  ‘—said this would be easy,’ whined Mr Thackery.

  Claire glanced at Ravi to try and catch his eye, so she could roll hers.

  ‘Shush now.’ Mother spoke to Thackery, then wiped the frown from her face. ‘Claire, my darling, is your father settled?’ Oh, politeness was the game Mother wanted to play, even when it was obvious that they’d been discussing hunting her fortune.

  ‘Yes, thank you. He said to mention that he will finish his meal in his office. He has a few urgent items to deal with.’

  ‘Thackery, you should offer your assistance. And make sure he gets some of the special pie he loves so much,’ said Mother.

  ‘I believe he wanted some quiet,’ said Claire. All through this conversation, Ravi had yet to look up. He hadn’t touched the course and it sat, slightly saggy on the plate.

  ‘I think my plans would be better served by staying here. You take him the pie,’ said Thackery. He pulled his lips back in what he must think resembled a smile, but just made an icy shiver flicker over her shoulders as he bared his teeth. Something in his tone made her frown. Her feet took her towards Ravi without thought, and she pulled out the chair beside him. She ignored the empty chair between Ravi and Mr Thackery, ready to sit as far from Thackery as possible.

  ‘Claire, you should sit on the opposite side,’ said Mother.

  ‘Surely Dr Carlingford can make her own decisions,’ said Ravi.

  ‘The table is already unbalanced. Claire must sit opposite.’ Mother nodded her head in the direction of the required chair. Claire leaned in to Ravi, her lips only inches from his ear.

  ‘Are you alright?’ she whispered.

  ‘Yes. I overheard the most instructive conversation.’

  ‘Later. Please eat something.’

  ‘I don’t eat beef. Maybe the next course?’ he said.

  She stood up straight, jerked upright with shock and shame. His simple, yet pragmatic words, sent a shudder into her core. She’d eaten foods from his mother’s culture for the last few days, and yet she’d never considered his point of view for this meal.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘It’s no matter.’

  ‘Claire. I believe I asked you to sit over there. I insist on it.’ Mother’s harsh voice snapped into their whispered dialogue. Claire lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, and contained her fury into elegance as she walked towards the chair her mother deemed appropriate.

  ‘As I was saying, Miss Carlingford, I think we would both benefit from a ride in the park tomorrow,’ said Thackery.

  Only if we ride in different parks.

  ‘Unfortunately, that doesn’t suit. I need to visit a good friend tomorrow,’ said Claire. She pulled out a chair, and sat with her wide skirts folded neatly.

  ‘Perhaps the following day,’ said Thackery.

  ‘I will be unavailable for the next while.’ She would think of the details for her excuse later, if it came to that. She doubted that the arrogant, self-centred Thackery would bother to ask.

  ‘You can change your plans,’ he said. She nodded to herself, as he behaved exactly like she expected.

  ‘Yes. Do that. Change your plans. This, your future, is much more important than a friend,’ said Mother.

  ‘Dr Carlingford is,’ Ravi emphasised the word doctor, sending a warm glow over her skin, ‘more than capable of deciding her own future.’

  ‘But there is more at stake than …’ spluttered Thackery.

  ‘Quiet,’ said Mother.

  ‘You promised,’ whined Thackery. Oh. What exactly did Mother promise Thackery? Marriage to her, presumably, but why him? She glanced at Ravi, and he grinned. The simple smile calmed her mild panic, reminding her that he’d listened to all their conversation while she’d been out of the room.

  Clemton opened the door, and a swath of footmen entered. They removed the plates, then replaced them with the dessert course.

  ‘Clemton, could you please ask the chef for a list of ingredients?’ she asked. Clemton bowed and left. Ravi opened his mouth, and shut it again, and she leaned towards him, desperate to know what he hadn’t said.

  ‘Perhaps you shouldn’t have this course, Claire. You don’t need dessert on your frame,’ said Mother. Just another comment about how imperfect she was, what a terrible daughter … Claire just looked away and sat tight.

  ‘I agree. One wouldn’t want to ruin that perfect waist with over indulgence,’ said Thackery.

  Urgh. Ravi lifted one eyebrow. Oh, damnation. Had she made that sound aloud? Clemton saved the day by entering the room.

  ‘Doctor, the dessert tonight is a Yorkshire curd tart. It has a sweet biscuit pastry, filled with custard created from leftover curds, a touch of sherry, and morsels of raisins.’

  ‘Thank you, Clemton. Please pass on my compliments to Cook.’ She glanced at Ravi who nodded. She let out a breath of relief, hopefully her guest would be able to eat something tonight. The whole table ate in silence. The smooth custard, and succulent sweetness of the crisp pastry, was cooked to perfection. Each sherry-soaked raisin filled her mouth with a rush of heady rich fruit, a little reminder of kissing Ravi. Was that only this morning? She blinked and glanced around the room. Mother hadn’t touched her dessert and had instead apparently expended all her time and energy on glaring at Claire’s dessert fork. Claire stared at her, as she slid her fork into the tart. She lifted the small portion to her mouth and popped it in, as defiantly as she could. Mother shook her head with her mouth turned downwards. Yes, yes, terrible daughter, eating too much, doing too much, and not doing as directed. She slowly pulled the fork from her mouth, sliding it out between her lips. She made the mistake of flicking a glance towards Ravi. His face glowed, his dark skin even darker than usual, and his mouth slightly parted. He hadn’t touched his food. Did he have an aversion to eating? She laid down the fork. That made no sense, his physique could only be sustained by a decent amount of food.

  ‘Dr Carlingford, we should check on Mr Carlingford.’ Ravi’s voice spoke her name with a gravelly awe that created waves of heat in her core. She nodded, too many times, and stood up.

  ‘Good evening, Mother. Mr Thackery. Please excuse us.’ She rushed out her polite goodbyes and fled the room.

  Chapter 15

  Ravi’s stomach rumbled as he followed Claire out of the room. He should have eaten the pudding, but he hadn’t been able to take his eyes of Claire’s mouth. It wasn’t an original thought, surely many men had been transfixed by the way her lips closed over the fork. A simple morsel of sweet dessert between her delectable lips had caught all his attention and directed it south. If he hadn’t kissed her this morning, and didn’t have her taste fresh in his mind, he’d have been able to blink it away and eat. Instead, the knowledge and memory of her lips against his had him wanting her all over again. And when the fork had slipped out between her lips, desire had frozen his ability to think.

  ‘Don’t you eat English food?’ she said as she walked down the hallway beside him. He chuckl
ed as she dragged him back into reality.

  ‘Yes. I eat English food. Just not beef.’

  ‘Oh, I see. However, the Yorkshire tart was delicious. You should have tried it,’ she said. He stared at her mouth.

  ‘I, ahh, yes. Yes.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ She halted and swept her eyes all over him. His hand reached for her, and he had to slam them together behind his back before he did something entirely out of character, like press her against the hall wall and kiss her senseless.

  ‘I’m fine. Just distracted,’ he said. She raised one eyebrow, and they both waited. Maybe he should have just kissed her, instead of standing here in this awkward uncertainty. But she’d said no earlier, and he didn’t want to overstep her line. It would be disrespectful if he didn’t show he could control his own urges. The silence stretched, and he swallowed. Finally, she broke away from his gaze and waved her hand in the air.

  ‘Oh. Distracted because?’ Her face didn’t reflect the heat he felt in his cheeks. He hoped he wasn’t that obvious. She rubbed her hands together and her eyes widened with a gleeful sparkle. ‘It was something they said when I wasn’t in the room, wasn’t it? You said it had been an instructive conversation. What did they say?’

  Ravi breathed. ‘Yes. It’s quite amazing what people will talk about in front of strangers. It was almost as if they’d forgotten I was there.’

  ‘Aside from being careless, how could anyone overlook you?’ Pink slowly travelled over her cheeks. Ravi cleared away the sudden dryness in his mouth.

  ‘Essentially, Mr Thackery and Mrs Carlingford have planned for him to marry you.’

  ‘I knew that already. They have both been rather insistent lately, and Thackery obviously has Mother’s backing for the task.’

  ‘A few things they said didn’t make sense, and I wonder—’ He didn’t get the chance to finish, as Claire leapt in.

  ‘Do you think Thackery is behind this scam to remove Father?’ she asked.

  He smiled. ‘It’s so nice to work with someone who has a decent brain,’ he said, blurting out a truth without his usual filter. He was rewarded with her deepening blush, and he took a half-step towards her. She glanced up and back the hallway before shaking her head.