To Dream Again

by Laura Lee Guhrke

He entered the production floor, stopping occasionally to watch the men as they cut sheets of tin into pieces, molded them into locomotives, passenger cars, and train stations. Again, he took every possible opportunity to give a compliment or exchange a joke or two as he made his way to where Percy stood.

  The secretary looked worried. Nathaniel paused beside him, and the two of them watched as welders soldered locomotives together. "Are you all right, Percy?" he shouted over the din.

  The secretary gave him a dubious glance. "I don't believe I have the qualities necessary to be a good supervisor, sir," he yelled back.

  Nathaniel grinned and took another look around. "I don't know, Percy. Everyone seems to be working very hard. I think you're doing well."

  Percy shook his head. "I'll be glad when Mrs. Elliot and Michael return."

  "Me, too." He clapped Percy on the shoulder. "I'll take over. It's pretty late in the day, and no one's taken a break. Everybody's probably hungry and thirsty. Why don't you go find Mrs. O'Brien and have her bring sandwiches and jugs of water for everybody?"

  "Yes, sir." Percy departed, grateful for the change of duties, and Nathaniel went up to the mezzanine where he had a better view.

  He leaned against the rail and watched the work below as he waited for Mara and Michael to return from their meeting with Solomon Leibowitz. When they came through the front doors a few moments later, Mara immediately looked up to see him watching her from the mezzanine. Even from his position thirty feet above her, he could see her wide smile as she nodded emphatically and waved a slip of paper at him.

  He smiled back at her and made a thumbs-up gesture to show he understood. The slow, sweet warmth of satisfaction washed over him, even though he knew it might not last. Leibowitz had obviously agreed to give them the money to pay off their loan, but Nathaniel had reneged on his deal with Adrian, and he knew his brother would not let that pass. Still, he couldn't regret what they had done. He just hoped Mara would never come to regret it either.

  They paid off Joslyn Brothers that afternoon, and Nathaniel's worries eased somewhat. The following evening, Finch brought the news of Adrian's misfortunes to their attention, and Nathaniel's worries eased a bit more. Finch brought the huge stack of newspapers to the factory with the dry pronouncement, "Your brother's in a bit of trouble." The announcement that his engagement had been broken had made the morning newspapers, and the news that creditors were calling in all his debts made the evening editions.

  Busy with delivering trains to stores, Nathaniel and Mara didn't take the time to read all the articles, but a quick scan of The Times gave them the important points. Lord Leyland was bankrupt, all his assets had been confiscated, and his former fiancée was in Paris, refusing to comment on the reasons for her broken engagement. Although Mara and Nathaniel suspected what had really happened, they didn't care about the details. They just breathed a prayer of thanks, went back to work, and hoped their troubles with Adrian were over.

  ***

  Adrian's letters to Lord Ashton, Lord Fitzhugh, and Lord Severn were answered with gushing sympathy and regretful refusal. Times were difficult, what with passage of the Reform Acts and fixed rents making money so scarce. Without assistance, Adrian knew he was doomed.

  Desperate, he telegraphed to Honoria, but a coldly polite reply from her lawyer was his only answer. Over the next few days, he contacted every business and social acquaintance he knew, but without the promise of marriage to a wealthy heiress to back him up, he had become a very bad risk. He received a great deal of sympathy, but no assistance, and with every sympathetic pat on the back he received, Adrian's hatred for Nathaniel grew.

  Creditors made good on their promise and began confiscating his assets. The Mayfair house, with all its contents, was first. Adrian stood helplessly by as bank clerks swarmed over the house like an infestation of ants; he watched as workmen marched his furnishings out the front doors; he listened as all his possessions, including his beloved art collection, were auctioned off in the forecourt to the delight of the curious onlookers peering through the gates. Each time the auctioneer cried, "Sold!" and pounded his gavel, the crowd cheered, and Adrian's hatred for Nathaniel grew.

  Chase Toys came next. All the equipment was auctioned, all the inventory confiscated, the building put up for sale. He walked through the vacant factory, and the voice of his father echoed through his mind, imagined tirades of what a mess Adrian had made of the company. With each reprimand, each recrimination, Adrian's hatred for Nathaniel grew.

  Creditors could not take the entailed estate in Devon, but they stripped it of all its valuables. They took the villa at Brighton. They took his stocks, his bonds, the ring he'd given Honoria, and all his other jewels. They took away his influence and his reputation.

  But they could not take away his pride, and they could not take away his hatred. Adrian sat on an empty crate in the empty mansion in Mayfair, the shreds of a letter ordering him to vacate the premises scattered across the bare floor and an empty bottle of whisky in his bandaged hand. Creditors had turned off the gas jets and had taken all the crystal lamps, so he sat in the dark, planning Nathaniel's death.

  ***

  Mara and Nathaniel were too busy making trains to spend much time contemplating Adrian's problems. They changed their bankers to Kaplan & Sons, and spent their time delivering trains. By Friday evening, all orders for the Christmas season had been filled but one.

  Mara placed the last box on the cart and watched as Nathaniel climbed up beside Boggs. "I'll be back in a couple of hours."

  "I'll wait for you here. I've closed the factory and sent everybody home. I've given everyone tomorrow morning off. With pay."

  He gave her a surprised glance as he took the reins. "Mara, I'm not sure that was very practical of you," he said gravely.

  She looked up at him, and the light of the street lamp at the end of the alley revealed the troubled expression on her upturned face. "Well, they all worked so hard, Nathaniel. Sixteen hours a day for the past three days."

  "Mara—"

  "I thought it would be good for morale. A Christmas bonus, and—"

  "Mara, I was only teasing you."

  "Oh." She bit her lip. "I never can tell when you're doing that."

  He grinned and snapped the reins. "I know."

  Nathaniel and Boggs made the last delivery to Harrod's. They unloaded five hundred trains, and Nathaniel tucked the receipt of delivery in his pocket, once again feeling the satisfaction of success. They'd done it. They had defied Adrian, they had delivered their trains, they had managed to circumvent all the obstacles in their path. He and Mara deserved to celebrate.

  He sent Boggs home, asking him to take the rented cart back to the livery on his way. He went upstairs to Harrod's toy department, unable to resist taking a look at the Christmas offerings of his competition and unable to resist gloating a bit. Nothing anyone else offered could compare.

  There were a few products from Chase Toys on display, but Nathaniel knew that once those were gone, there would be no more, for he knew creditors had already taken the company and had auctioned off everything. Although Adrian was receiving exactly what he deserved, Nathaniel was not happy that his grandfather's legacy should come to such a pathetic end.

  He left the toy department and wandered through the rest of the store, purchasing a bottle of champagne from the wine department, two crystal goblets in the china and glass department, and finally, a box of chocolates and a pint of greenhouse strawberries in the grocery. He smiled to himself as he paid for his purchases, knowing Mara would lecture him on the impracticality of buying expensive, out-of-season strawberries.

  He then left the department store and was immediately enveloped in the thick fog that had descended over the city. A boy appeared in front of him, emerging from the mist as if out of nowhere. "Get ye a cab, guv'nor?"

  "Yes, thank you."

  The boy raced toward the curb, and even though the street was less than a dozen feet away, he disappeared from view, lo
st in the fog.

  He knew that these street children spent many long hours standing in front of stores to find cabs for those who could afford them and were experts at the task, but it surprised Nathaniel at how quickly the boy was able to obtain one for him, given the weather. Within three minutes, the child had returned with a cab, and Nathaniel gave him a well-earned sixpence.

  The boy gaped at the tip, six times the amount he usually received. "A tanner? Thank ye, guv'nor."

  Nathaniel climbed into the cab and placed the bag containing his purchases on the seat beside him, as the carriage moved up Brompton Road at a slow crawl. He leaned back in his seat, knowing it would take ages to arrive in Whitechapel and trying to curb his impatience. He wanted nothing more than to be with Mara and celebrate their success. It had taken him a long time to see his dream come true, but it appeared fate intended to make him wait just a little bit longer before he could enjoy it.

  ***

  While Nathaniel was out, Mara made preparations of her own. She left Billy with Mrs. O'Brien and went up to her flat, where she bathed with lilac soap. She put on her nicest white shirtwaist and lace collar, and her best winter skirt, a soft, plum-colored merino wool. She wrapped a towel around her shoulders and washed her hair, shivering as she leaned out the window to do it. She then dried it with a towel and piled the damp tresses atop her head.

  When she had completed her toilette, she fetched fresh water, then went back down to Mrs. O'Brien's. She sent Billy upstairs to take his bath. He grumbled about it, saying it hadn't even been a week since the last time she'd made him take a bath, but he did as she bid him, and when he came back down, she was pleased to note that he'd even remembered to wash behind his ears.

  The two of them returned to the factory, left a lamp burning by the front door for Nathaniel, and went upstairs to wait for him in the office. They played checkers while they waited, but after about an hour, she saw Billy's head nodding in exhaustion as he leaned over the checkerboard. It had been a tiring day for the boy, and she knew it was time to put him to bed.

  She ignored his sleepy protests as she tucked him into Nathaniel's cot. She smiled down at him, watching as his eyes closed. "Good night, Billy," she whispered and bent to place a soft kiss on his cheek. She straightened and started to turn away, but Billy's voice stopped her.

  "Mrs. Elliot?"

  "Yes, Billy?"

  He opened his eyes. "It's been almost two years since me mum died. I'm startin' to forget 'er."

  Mara knelt beside the cot and gently reached out and brushed the lock of hair back from his forehead. "Well, two years is an awfully long time." To an eight-year-old, it could be an eternity.

  "Do ye suppose a boy could 'ave two mums?"

  "I suppose so."

  He plucked at the edge of the sheet. "Since I'm goin' t'be livin' with you from now on, can I call you mum?"

  Mara's heart constricted with a joy so powerful it was almost pain. "Of course you can, sweeting," she choked out and wrapped her arms around him.

  She held him until she felt his arms relax, then she gently pulled away and went back into the office. The clock struck nine, and she began to worry. She walked to the door and stepped out onto the fire escape, but the fog had become so thick, she couldn't even see the light of the street lamp at the end of the alley. No wonder he wasn't back yet. She closed the door and sat down at her desk to do some work while she waited.

  When the clock struck ten, her worry began in earnest, and wild thoughts shot through her mind. What if he'd had an accident in the fog? What if Lord Leyland had done something? Surely he wouldn’t do anything violet. Would he?

  Restless, she shut the ledger before her and began to pace. She was wondering if perhaps she should inform the police, when a slight sound caught her attention.

  "Thank God," she breathed and raced out the door. "Nathaniel?" she called as she started down the stairs.

  She received no answer. She paused on the mezzanine and took a look around, but the lamp she'd left downstairs by the door provided almost no light at all and she could see nothing but the faint outline of the railing.

  "Nathaniel?"

  She heard no sound. She turned around and started to head back up the stairs, when a sudden noise caused her to jump just as something brushed her leg. She gave a startled cry. Algernon answered with a meow.

  "Oh!" She bent over to pick up the kitten. "Algernon, you silly cat, you frightened me nearly to death."

  She lowered her head to rub her cheek against his soft fur, when suddenly she was grabbed from behind. A hand came over her mouth, muffling her startled scream as Algernon fell from her arms and let out a loud, indignant wail. The hand covering her mouth pulled her head back, and she felt something cold and flat press against her throat. The blade of a knife. She heard herself begin to whimper behind the sweat-damp hand.

  Hot breath fanned her cheek and a voice spoke softly in her ear.

  "Mrs. Elliot," Lord Leyland said, "it is such a pleasure to see you again."

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Nathaniel paid the cab driver and unlocked the front door of the factory as the cab rolled away. He could see lights burning in the third-floor windows, but the ground floor was pitch-dark. He made his way across the production floor, but memory was not a reliable guide and he bumped into a few tables before he reached the stairs. With one hand on the rail, he started up.

  At the mezzanine, he heard a faint squealing sound and paused. He heard the scraping flicker of a lighter, and lamplight illuminated the far corner of the mezzanine. He drew in a sharp breath at the sight revealed to him.

  Mara was seated behind Michael's desk, facing him. Adrian stood behind her, one hand tangled in a handful of her long hair, the other holding a knife poised across her throat. "If you move, I'll kill her."

  Nathaniel stared at his brother, wondering what the hell to do. "A knife, Adrian?" he said, striving to keep his voice steady. "Isn't that a bit too unsophisticated for you?"

  "They took my pistols, you bastard, and everything else I own," he answered, keeping the knife at Mara's throat and his gaze on Nathaniel.

  "I heard about that. I'm sorry."

  "Sorry?" His brother screamed the word in contempt and fury. "A knife was all I could lay hands on. If I had a pistol, I'd shoot you down like a dog."

  "I see." There was no way he could get to her. Nathaniel waited, trying to think past the hammering of his heart.

  Moving slowly, Adrian sat down in the chair behind Mara's, keeping the knife at her throat. He nodded to Percy's desk directly opposite. "Sit down."

  Nathaniel obeyed, then leaned forward in the chair and spread his hands wide. "So, now that you have us both here, what's next?"

  "You shall make your will. There's a pen and ink on that desk."

  "My will? Leaving my share of Chase-Elliot to you, of course."

  "Damned right. As well as everything else you own." He jerked Mara's head back a little further and the blade of the knife touched her throat.

  Nathaniel drew a deep, steadying breath. "Really, Adrian, you must be joking. I can't write worth a damn, and you know it."

  "Just shut up and do what I say!"

  "He's right, my lord." Mara's voice intruded softly, and Nathaniel could hear the slight quaver in her voice, the only indication of her fear. "You know he has horrible penmanship."

  He looked over at Nathaniel. "Then you'll write it, Mrs. Elliot."

  He wrapped the strands of her hair more securely around his fist. He leaned back, his gaze on Nathaniel. "Do it."

  "All right." She reached for the quill and ink on Michael's desk. "I have to take paper out of the drawer," she said, her eyes meeting Nathaniel's as she slowly moved to open the right-hand drawer of Michael's desk. He knew she was planning something, and he tensed in his chair, praying she wouldn't try anything but intending to be ready if she did.

  "Do you really think this will work?" Nathaniel asked, his eyes still on Mara as he spoke. "No one will beli
eve it's legal."

  "They will! This company shall be mine. I shall take everything you have as payment for what you've done to me!"

  Nathaniel knew that his brother's spirit was broken. Everything that mattered to him—his money, his possessions, his power—was gone. He'd always been arrogant and cruel, but now, when his misfortunes had sent him into madness, he was almost pathetic. And very dangerous.

  "What's goin' on?"

  Billy's sleepy voice from the stairs broke the silence, but Adrian was the only one who paid attention. Distracted, he straightened, and the hand holding the knife moved away from Mara's throat.

  Nathaniel saw a flash of metal as she moved, and he was over the top of Percy's desk before the letter opener in her hand sank into the vulnerable skin of Adrian's wrist.

  Adrian screamed as the knife flew from his hand. He released his grip on Mara's hair, and she instantly swung around in her chair with all the force she had, hitting him square in the jaw with her fist.

  He staggered back, and Nathaniel was on him. Mara scrambled out of the way, running across the room to Billy, who was holding Algernon in his arms and staring in wide-eyed terror at the scene playing out before him. She pulled the boy against her skirt, turning her head in time to see Nathaniel swing his fist. The impact of the blow sent Adrian flying backward against Michael's desk, knocking over the lamp. Kerosene spilled and fire ignited, licking greedily at the engineering diagrams spread out over the desk top. Within seconds, the entire desk was ablaze.

  Mara stared at the desk in horror, Helen’s screams echoing through her heat, remembering the floor caving in beneath her feet.

  She forced herself to blot it out. Helen was dead, she reminded herself, and she had to think of Billy now. She had to get him out of here. She started to pick him up, thinking to run, but she could not leave Nathaniel. She bent down. "Billy, listen," she said, grabbing him by the shoulders, fighting off waves of panic. "Listen to me, sweetheart. I want you to leave the building."