by Mary Nichols
‘Oh, Diana, do not be so stubborn. You know it will be best for everyone concerned.’
‘You mean my job at Harecroft’s is dependent on my saying yes?’
‘I did not say that, did I?’ He stood by the trap and held out his hand. ‘Now, you go and direct me to your house.’
He might not have said so, but the implication was there. She gave a huge sigh. He was like his brother in one thing: he would not take no for an answer. What did it matter anyway? It was too late for secrets; if he wanted to marry her, he ought to know the background from which she came. If it was going to put him off, the sooner the better. She took his hand and allowed him to help her up.
He did not trouble to hide his distaste when they drew up on the corner of her street and she suggested walking the rest of the way, and he frowned in annoyance when the two urchins appeared as if from nowhere and grinned at Stephen with hands outstretched.
‘Your brother gave them money to buy a dinner,’ she said. ‘No doubt they think you will do the same.’
‘Giving to beggars only encourages them and the fact that they are here again proves it.’
‘They are half-starved and it is not their fault.’
‘People should not have children if they cannot feed and clothe them adequately.’
‘That is a rather harsh judgement, sir.’
He did not comment, but looked about him at the row of dingy tenements, the soot-begrimed walls, the dusty windows, some of which were broken, the filthy steps. ‘I had no idea you lived like this. I am surprised at your father. You told me he was a sea captain…’
‘So he was, but he has been unable to work for some time. As soon as I have saved a little more, we shall move to somewhere better.’
‘Whatever my father will say about it, I cannot imagine.’
She did not reply but entered her house, where she was greeted by Toby rushing forward and jumping up at her, barking in delight. ‘Hello, old fellow. Pleased to see me, are you? Well I am home now.’
The door to the back regions opened and Mrs Beales came out. ‘There you are. That dog was whining all night, no one got a wink of sleep.’ She looked Stephen up and down. ‘Another man, miss? How many more? You ain’t no better than you should be for all your haughty ways.’
‘Mrs Beales, that is unfair. This is my employer and the brother of the man who helped my father when he had his seizure.’
‘For goodness’ sake, Diana, do not try to justify yourself to her. She is disgusting.’ Stephen’s lip curled.
‘I’ll have you know I keep a respectable house,’ the woman told him angrily. ‘And I do not allow gentleman callers for my single ladies. I only let the other one in when he said he had come to see the captain.’
‘Mrs Beales, please. Mr Harecroft is leaving. He has only escorted me from the hospital.’
‘Fine story!’
‘I have heard enough,’ Stephen said. ‘Diana, collect your belongings. You are leaving here now. At once.’
‘Don’t be silly. I have nowhere to go and I cannot pack everything up just like that.’
‘Yes, you can!’ This from Mrs Beales. ‘I’ve had enough of your coming in at all hours. Working late, my eye!’
‘Mrs Beales!’ she cried in dismay, expecting Stephen to turn on his heel and leave her to her fate. She turned on him angrily. ‘Now, see what you have done. You have made me homeless. And where am I going to find somewhere else at this time of night? Mrs Beales, you will allow me to stay tonight, won’t you?’
‘No,’ Stephen said. ‘You are coming home with me.’ He grabbed her arm and turned towards the door.
‘I can’t go now. Our belongings…’
‘We will send for them later. I am not prepared to stay another minute in this place, nor yet allow you to.’
‘Good riddance!’ Mrs Beales put in. ‘And take that hound with you.’
Before Diana could say another word, she was on the pavement outside the house and the door had been firmly shut. ‘Mr Harecroft. Stephen. Let me go, will you? You are hurting my arm.’
He released her. ‘I am sorry. But I had no idea how you lived. You kept it very quiet, didn’t you?’ It was said with a flash of anger.
‘Perhaps because I knew what your reaction might be. We had no choice, it was the best we could afford and now I haven’t even got that.’
‘You can stay at Harecroft House.’
‘I cannot do that, it would be an imposition.’
‘Nonsense. It will be an opportunity to get to know each other properly and it will help you to decide to accept me.’
‘Why do you want to marry me?’
They had reached the gig and he turned to face her. ‘Why does anyone marry? To live together, to make a home and a family…’
‘No, I meant…why me?’
‘Because you are exactly the wife I have been looking for, someone I would be proud to have on my arm, to entertain my guests, be a mother to my children, someone to work beside me like Great-Grandmother did for Great-Grandfather, patient, efficient, not giddy or given to the vapours. Does that answer you?’ He held out his hand to help her up. ‘Come, there will be time to talk about our future when you have settled in at Harecroft House.’
He had not mentioned love, she noticed, and he had reeled off the list of her attributes as if he had learned them by rote. ‘Supposing I do not want to come.’
‘Oh, do be sensible, Diana. Where else can you go at this time of night?’
‘Mrs Beales might change her mind…’
‘You know she will not. And in any case, I am not letting my future wife live in a place like that. It is a slum.’
‘I have no nightgown and toiletries or a change of linen….’
‘None of which matters. Mama will find something for you until your own things can be fetched.’
‘Stephen, you are bullying me.’
‘I am sorry for that, my dear, it was not intended, but we could have stood arguing with that dreadful woman all night if I had not done something. Now, please get in the tilbury.’
The dog, who had been trotting beside her, jumped up into the gig and seemed to make up her mind for her. ‘What about Toby?’
‘He can go to the stables. The grooms will look after him.’
She knew she had no choice; it was too late to go searching for a bed and, being a woman on her own, no good-class establishment would entertain her. ‘Very well, just for tonight.’ She stepped up into the gig and he seated himself beside her and they set off. Neither spoke.
She was too worried and angry with him to make conversation. He had manoeuvred her into a corner. Why did a man so disgusted with the way she lived want to marry her? Unless he, too, was being manipulated. But why? What did she have to offer that dozens of others in more advantageous circumstances did not? She had been worried about losing her job when the Harecrofts found out about her father and where she lived; she had not dreamt she would be prised out of her home and carried off, because that was what it amounted to.
‘Why?’ she demanded suddenly. ‘Why, when you discovered where I lived, did you not turn your back on me?’
‘I am not fickle, Diana. I do not like your circumstances, but that does not mean I feel any differently about you. You are still you, still the person I have come to know and regard with great affection. And I would be less than a gentleman if I did not try to do something to improve your situation. Please give me a chance to do so.’
It was not a declaration of love, but perhaps he found it difficult to express his true feelings. She had known him long enough to know he was not the effusive kind. He had always been quiet and stiffly correct; it was his way. She ought not to yearn for anything else. But, oh, how she longed to be enfolded in someone’s arms, to be comforted and told that she need no longer worry about anything, that she was loved. If she married Stephen, the responsibility of looking after her father would be lifted from her shoulders and perhaps love would come. At the moment, with Pap
a in hospital fighting for his life, no home to take him to when he recovered sufficiently to be discharged and Toby trying to lick the skin off her face, she could not think clearly.
The first person they saw when they entered the house was Richard. He had apparently just come in because he was handing his top hat to a footman. ‘Miss Bywater, you are back again.’
‘Yes, your brother insisted.’ There was no doubt he had the power to make her heart turn somersaults; it was beating like a steam hammer in her breast. Did he know the effect he had? She suspected he did, because he was very self-assured and at ease with himself.
‘It is not like him to be so decisive. What happened? How is your father?’
‘Papa is comfortable and I think improving. He is trying to speak, but it is a great effort. He was worried about Toby.’
‘You told him I had taken him home?’
‘Yes, of course, and I thank you.’
‘What has happened to the dog?’
‘We brought him with us,’ Stephen put in. ‘He will be looked after in the stables. I could not leave Diana at that place. I was appalled by the squalor. Heaven knows what pestilential miasmas are drifting in the air. I wonder Diana has not succumbed long before now.’
‘It is not as bad as that,’ Diana put in. ‘It is in a poor district, but I have always kept our apartment clean and tidy and Papa was looked after when I was at work. Now I have been made homeless and must look for new lodgings.’
‘Why?’ Richard asked. ‘Did Mrs Beales throw you out?’
‘Not until after Mr Harecroft insulted her.’
‘She insulted you.’ This from Stephen. ‘I was not going to stand by and allow the lady I mean to marry being spoken to in that fashion. I won’t tell you what she said, Richard, but it was insupportable.’
‘Oh, I see, so you fetched Miss Bywater away?’
‘What was I supposed to do? Ignore the insult? Diana can stay here. I am going to find Mama and put it to her. She needs a nightgown and whatever else ladies need for a stay.’
‘You mean you dragged her away without even allowing her time to pack her night things. No wonder the poor lady looks worried and bewildered.’
‘Does she?’ Stephen turned to Diana. ‘Are you bewildered, my dear?’
‘No, furious with the pair of you. I think being high-handed must be a Harecroft trait, for you are both as bad as one another, and I certainly do not want you quarrelling over me. I shall stay here tonight because it is late, but tomorrow I shall begin looking for new lodgings. I must have somewhere for when my father is discharged from hospital. Would you be kind enough to arrange for me to go to my room now? I am tired and need to rest.’
‘Of course. Wait here, while I find my mother.’
He set off down the hall, leaving her with Richard. ‘Come,’ he said, indicating a door to the left of the hall. ‘Let us sit in the library and wait for him to come back.’ He paused and smiled wryly. ‘Only if you wish it, of course.’
She found herself responding, if only a little wearily. ‘Thank you.’
He led the way into a book-lined room with a large heavy desk in the middle and two deep armchairs on either side of the fireplace. Above it was a large portrait of some earlier Harecroft in a satin coat, breeches and a bag wig. ‘My great-grandfather,’ he said, noticing her interest. ‘Great-Grandmama’s husband. It was painted soon after he returned from India, I believe. He was a great man of business and ruled his family with a stout rod, no one dare defy him, but he did have his softer side, especially where Great-Grandmama was concerned. Her idolised her. Do sit down.’ He indicated one of the chairs and folded himself into the other. ‘Tell me about your father. What do the medical staff say about him?’
‘His recovery will be slow and he will need a lot of help when he comes home.’
‘Except you have no home now. I am sorry for the way that happened, Miss Bywater, but if I can help, do not hesitate to ask me.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I am also sorry if you found my manner overbearing. I suppose, being in the army, I became used to command and it has become a habit to take charge of things. And especially when a beautiful young lady is involved and needs help.’
‘Mr Harecroft, that is outright flummery. I thought you were more honest than that.’
‘What is dishonest about telling a lady she is beautiful, if you mean it?’ He paused. ‘You know, you remind me of someone I have met, but I cannot for the life of me think when or where. Do you think we have met?’
‘I think it very unlikely, sir. I am sure I should have remembered.’
He found it difficult to dislike her; she was articulate, intelligent and perceptive. No wonder his father thought she was an asset to the business and would be an asset to Stephen, too. But, remembering his great-grandmother’s doubts, he knew he must guard against feeling sorry for her.
Stephen came into the room. ‘There you are,’ he said to Diana. ‘For a minute I thought you had taken flight, until I heard your voice. It is all arranged. Mathilde is sorting out some night attire for you and she will conduct you to the room you occupied this morning. It is yours for as long as you want it.’
She stood up. ‘Thank you. I must pay my respects to your parents and her ladyship and then I should like to go up. It has been a very eventful twenty-four hours.’
‘Mother and Father are about to retire and Great-Grandmama went to her room ages ago. You will see them in the morning. We go to church at ten o’clock.’
‘I understand. I will be gone by then.’
‘Gone where?’ He looked puzzled.
‘To see my father, to find new lodgings and arrange for my belongings to be moved.’
He opened his mouth to speak, but Richard silenced him. ‘Do not start arguing again, Stephen. You can see Miss Bywater is exhausted.’
‘Yes, we will talk in the morning.’ He opened the door to Mathilde. ‘Ah there you are. Miss Bywater is ready to go up now.’ He took Diana’s hand and lifted it to his lips. ‘Goodnight, my dear.’
‘Goodnight,’ she answered and then to Richard. ‘Goodnight, sir.’
He stood up and bowed stiffly. ‘Your servant.’
Diana followed the maid up to the room she had left only a few hours before, to find the bed had been remade and a cotton nightgown laid across it. ‘It is one of Lady Harecroft’s,’ Mathilde said.
‘Her ladyship is very kind.’
‘Do you need help to undress?’
Diana smiled at the question. It was a very long time since she had shared her mother’s maid. ‘No, thank you. I can manage.’
‘Then I will say goodnight.’ Then she was gone and Diana was alone. She picked up the nightgown and sat on the bed with it on her lap, almost too weary to undress. It had been the longest twenty-four hours of her life and she knew nothing would ever be the same again. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? If she accepted Stephen, she would become part of this household; almost everything she wanted or needed would be at her fingertips. Her father would be nursed back to health and she would be able to spend more time with him; no one would expect her to go to work, certainly not to sit over ledgers all day. It was very tempting.
Slowly she began unbuttoning her dress. Having nothing else with her, she would have to put it on again tomorrow. She was beginning to feel very dowdy. She slipped the nightgown over her head and crept between the sheets. She did not expect to sleep, but after a short prayer, which mainly consisted of asking for her father to be restored to health and for guidance in what to do, she drifted off to sleep. But it was not Stephen who filled her dreams, but someone bigger and broader and altogether more striking.
She was woken by a maid with her breakfast on a tray. She put it down to draw the curtain and the room was flooded with sunshine. Diana ate a little, then washed and dressed and went down to find everyone gathered in the drawing room, waiting for the carriage to be brought round to convey them to church. Mrs Harecroft was dressed in a light
blue taffeta gown, severely plain but exquisitely cut. It had a cowl collar and lace-edged sleeves. Her bonnet was ruched in matching lace. Mr Harecroft and Stephen were both in black frockcoats and grey trousers. Richard was in dove grey. Lady Harecroft was not present.
Diana, in her working dress, felt much too dishevelled to be seen in public in their company, and was relieved when Mrs Harecroft said, ‘I am sure you are anxious to fetch your things, Miss Bywater, so we will excuse you from attending church.’
‘Thank you.’
‘How much do you have to bring?’ Mr Harecroft asked. ‘Is there anything heavy or bulky?’
‘No, sir, only our clothes and books and a few pictures and household items. I intend to find alternative accommodation and will have everything conveyed there as soon as possible.’
‘I understood from Stephen you had accepted our hospitality, Miss Bywater, at least so long as your father is in hospital. There is no need to go searching for accommodation.’
‘Mr Harecroft, I cannot presume on your generosity…’
‘Think nothing of it. You are one of us, or soon will be. And until that time, it will be delightful, not to say convenient, to have you here. You will be able to travel to work with us and there will always be someone to take you to visit your father.’
‘Please say you agree,’ Stephen said.
She capitulated. It was so much easier than arguing and in the back of her mind was the possibility of losing her job if she was obstinate about it. ‘Very well, just until my father is discharged from hospital.’
‘You will need a conveyance,’ Mr Harecroft senior said. ‘Richard, do you know if Grandmother is using her carriage today? We shall need ours.’
‘I will go and ask her.’
‘Well, hurry up,’ Mrs Harecroft said, drawing on her gloves. ‘I heard our carriage arriving.’
‘No, do not trouble yourself,’ Diana said quickly. ‘I can hire a cab. I have very little to bring.’
‘Are you sure?’ Stephen asked her, picking up his hat and gloves to follow his parents to the door. ‘I would come with you, but I cannot guarantee to keep my temper with that dreadful woman.’