‘Amelia’s a very trustworthy person,’ Emma Jane told him, and then, ‘Are you telling me we have to give up Wyvern Villa? Mother’s too ill to be moved. Can’t we wait a little while?’
He looked at her with surprised respect. He’d expected tears, protests, complaints – but she was taking it with admirable calm. Perhaps she didn’t understand what he was saying?
‘It is likely that you will lose this house – perhaps not immediately, but soon. I’ve arranged a meeting with your father’s railway clients and his bankers the day after tomorrow, and I’ll let you know what’s decided as soon as possible. You see, the only tangible asset the estate has, is the half-finished bridge. When it is completed, there is a considerable sum of money due to your father’s estate, but not until then. It will pay off his debts easily but the bridge must be finished first,’ he concluded.
Now he was ready to leave, for he thought he’d told her enough bad news for one day, but Emma Jane stood up and halted him with an outstretched hand. ‘I know – I’ve been thinking about that. Perhaps it will be possible to hire someone to finish it for us. The bridge was very important to Father. I’d like to accompany you to that meeting,’ she said.
‘Miss Wylie, it may last quite a long time. It may also become quite – argumentative, shall we say? I’ll have to fight for everything I can get. Bankers are not sentimentalists – they’re not moved by sympathy, only by balance sheets.’
‘This is something of immense importance to me, Mr Johnstone. I want to take part in whatever is decided. Can I go as my mother’s representative? Is that possible?’
He looked at her sharply. ‘Mrs Wylie is the person who is likely to suffer most through this. If she designates you as her representative I don’t suppose there will be any problem about you sitting in on the meeting.’
She nodded. ‘Where is it to be held and when?’
He told her and she said, ‘I’ll be there, with Mother’s authority. Thank you for coming to see me, Mr Johnstone. This must be very difficult for you.’
He turned in the doorway and said in a heartfelt way, ‘It is. I was an old friend of your father. Fate’s been very cruel, taking him at this time when he didn’t have a chance to sort out his problems as he would have done, I’m sure. I’m sorry, Miss Wylie.’
When he left, Emma Jane put on a heavy cloak and set out to visit Amelia. Though the distance was little more than 200 yards, she felt strangely weak and ill before she got there, and in Amelia’s little parlour sank into a deeply cushioned chair with a trembling sigh. Her sister-in-law was angry with her. ‘You’re in a state of shock. You shouldn’t have come here. You should have sent Haggerty to fetch me.’
Emma Jane shook her head. ‘We can talk quietly here. At home the aunts are always running in and out, never giving me any peace. Listen, Amelia, the lawyer’s been to see me. He says Father’s financial affairs are in a real mess. We’ll have to sell Wyvern Villa.’
Amelia was not surprised. ‘It’s that bridge – he’d sunk everything into it,’ she said sadly.
‘It’s not nearly finished yet, either, and I don’t know what I’m going to do about it. We’ll have to sell the contract, I expect,’ said Emma Jane.
‘The bridge is somebody else’s business. What matters as far as you’re concerned is that there’s no money.’ Amelia was, as always, very practical.
‘It’s even worse than that, I think. I got the feeling that Mr Johnstone wasn’t telling me everything. There might be lots of debts. I’m going to the meeting he’s having with the bankers, then I’ll find out exactly how things stand,’ Emma Jane told her.
‘That’s a good idea. At least you’ll hear what’s what. It’s always best to know the facts,’ agreed Amelia.
‘They won’t take me seriously unless I go as Mother’s representative, though. She has to appoint me to act for her.’
The two young women stared at each other. ‘Even if she was able to write it she probably wouldn’t. She doesn’t think women should dabble with business matters. She’d tell you to leave everything to the men,’ said Amelia.
‘That’s what I was thinking,’ agreed Emma Jane.
Another silence fell till Amelia announced, ‘It’s a pity I’ve not got much of a way with handwriting.’
‘I have,’ said Emma Jane.
‘Then write it yourself. Write it and sign it. No one’ll ever know.’
Which was exactly what they did.
* * *
Since Madame Rachelle measured Emma Jane for the purple costume she had lost weight, but in spite of that it still looked impressive when she put it on and turned slowly before her mirror. She knew she ought to be in full mourning, but she was sick in her soul with always wearing black. This outfit gave her confidence, and that was something she would need in abundance before the afternoon was over. Besides, she intended to leave the house without anyone, especially her Aunt Louisa, seeing, so her lapse from mourning etiquette would go unnoticed.
Haggerty drove her to the offices of the bank in the middle of Newcastle. She had been there before but the awesome solemnity of its marble hall with porphyry pillars supporting a domed glass roof always made her quail a little, and she was quaking even more than usual as she walked over the gleaming inlaid floor to Munro’s office, where she was admitted by a sepulchral-looking young clerk in a black suit. When the door swung wide she was ushered into an enormous room with a Turkey red carpet, upon which stood massive mahogany furniture glittering like glass. Johnstone was there, so was Munro and beside them were several men who were introduced to her in turn… Sir Geoffrey Miller of the railway company, Colonel Anstruther, Mr Raeburn, Mr Smith the financier and Sir Rupert Caldecott. Only Anstruther was familiar, for she remembered seeing him riding round the bridge workings with his daughter-in-law. The other names she had heard her father mention, and knew he’d had deep reservations about Miller in particular
Mr Johnstone showed her to a chair and told the gathering, ‘Miss Wylie has come as the representative of Mr Wylie’s heritors, gentlemen.’ They nodded. Some smiled – two looked across at her and expressed their sympathy about the death of her father. She nodded back, murmured her thanks and crossed her gloved hands in her lap, demurely waiting… It did not take long before the purpose of the meeting emerged. The main matter of concern was the bridge. How much remained to be done and who would do it? What it would cost? Had Wylie’s death caused much of a setback?
She listened with growing dismay as they debated, making it obvious from what they said that her father’s death was only a side issue to them. Her lawyer kept trying to steer the discussion back to his client’s concerns but with little effect until, losing patience, he snapped, ‘How much will you pay Miss Wylie to relinquish the bridge contract, then?’
Sir Geoffrey Miller turned his head, lifted his eyebrows and gave a deep sigh. ‘Pay? My dear sir, Wylie’s contract with us was quite specific. If he failed to finish the bridge, there would be no payment. He took a gamble on that and he was to be paid partly in cash and partly in shares. Because he was in need of capital to buy materials and pay his workforce, he received most of the cash when the work began. I suppose you could say that he owes us money.’
It was obvious to Emma Jane that this development was not welcomed by her lawyer. He said sharply, ‘That was a very hard contract, gentlemen. Surely you’re not going to hold Mr Wylie’s estate to it?’
Miller’s eye was steely. ‘A contract is a legal undertaking, Mr Johnstone,’ he replied.
The antagonists looked hard at each other. Colonel Anstruther opened his mouth to say something, and Emma Jane had the feeling that in spite of his red-faced, bluff appearance, he was kinder and more chivalrous than the others, but Miller quelled him with a look and went on, ‘We are not the only people with claims against Wylie’s estate, are we? The bank holds promissory notes for a great deal of money, does it not? Mr Munro the banker is one of our directors on the railway company board.’
T
he implied threat was apparent and Johnstone sighed, ‘What do you propose?’
Miller smiled slightly and joined his hands together in an upturned ‘v’ with the fingertips touching and the wrists apart. ‘We will write off the debt to us – what the bank does is the bank’s business – if we can take over the bridge lock, stock and barrel. We’ll put in our own man to finish the job. Luckily he’s there now, organising the labour on the line between Rosewell and Maddiston, so he knows the ropes. We will need Wylie’s plans and specifications, of course…’
‘That means you get more than half of a bridge free,’ said Johnstone wryly.
‘Hardly free. We made an advance, remember – and there was a contract.’
Johnstone was angry and his eyes were blazing as he protested, ‘What you have paid in advances wouldn’t buy you one quarter of the work that has already been done, and you want all his plans as well. That’s robbery, gentlemen.’ Emma Jane, leaning forward in her seat, felt her own anger rise. She wanted to chime in and support him, but knew it was more politic to keep quiet. Her mind teemed with angry thoughts of the days and nights her father had laboured over his plans, the love and dedication he had put into them and the dreams he wove around this, his last great project. ‘We can’t just give it away to those rogues,’ she told herself.
She could see from the look on Mr Johnstone’s face that he was thinking the same thing, but at that moment Munro the banker leaned across the table and pushed another sheaf of papers in his direction. ‘These are the details of Mr Wylie’s indebtedness to the bank,’ he said coldly.
Johnstone picked them up, turned the pages rapidly and put them down quickly. Though he said nothing, Emma Jane could tell that what he read had discouraged him. He looked in her direction and then said to the other man, ‘Could I have a few moments with my client, please? We’ll go into the anteroom.’
‘Of course,’ said Sir Geoffrey in his most courtly manner, rising and opening the door. The others rose too as Emma Jane walked out behind her lawyer with her head in a whirl.
Johnstone took her arm and steered her into a smaller room next door where he stood with his finger pressed against his forehead, saying, ‘I cannot imagine what possessed your father to sign that contract. It’s highway robbery. He never told me half of its restrictions, nor about what he owed either. Those debts must have been building up for years. It’s much worse than I feared, Miss Wylie. I had hoped to salvage something for you and your mother, but that is looking less likely now.’
She stared at him from level eyes and said fiercely, ‘I know it would be sensible to give up the contract, but I hate the idea of them taking over his bridge like that. It meant so much to him.’
‘Oh, they’ll finish it,’ he assured her. The emotional aspect of the affair meant little to him.
‘But it won’t be his. I remember he said that he wanted it to be his memorial… now it’ll belong to someone else.’
Johnstone looked at her in surprise. ‘What’s more to the point, my dear, is that you and your mother are being cheated out of your inheritance. That’s what worries me most.’
‘They’re threatening us, aren’t they? Perhaps we’re stronger than we think. I’ve got the plans, after all,’ she said.
Johnstone stared at her. ‘Have you? Have you everything? There are no copies anywhere else?’
‘Father didn’t make any copies. He just kept working over and over again on the same plans. I helped him when I was staying in Camptounfoot, and so I understand them perfectly. Everything’s noted down – specifications, stresses, all that sort of thing… I brought them back with me when I brought his body home. I knew he wouldn’t want me to leave them.’ Her voice was sad as she remembered gathering up the scattered papers in his room at the Jessups’.
Johnstone suddenly became jubilant. ‘My dear girl, that was a stroke of genius! That may be the first ray of light in this whole dirty business. Now let’s go back in there – and leave this to me,’ he cried.
The others were waiting, confident that everything would go their way. Johnstone kept his face solemn as he sat down again after Emma Jane had been ceremoniously re-installed in her chair. ‘Let me hear your final proposals, gentlemen. Surely you will be prepared to pay Miss Wylie and her mother something?’ said the lawyer.
Again Miller was the spokesman. ‘We’ll take over the half-built bridge and put our man Jopp in charge of the work. Because we don’t want to be too hard-hearted, we will pay the Wylie estate two thousand pounds. We feel that’s very generous under the circumstances.’
Johnstone looked at Munro and asked, ‘How much money exactly is outstanding against Mr Wylie?’
Munro shuffled his papers. ‘At this moment, fifteen thousand, five hundred and ninety-two pounds.’ Johnstone switched his stare back to Miller. ‘Two thousand won’t go far in paying that off, will it?’
Miller snapped, ‘He owed most of that before he ever got involved with the bridge. I know he owed ten thousand at least.’ Johnstone gazed pointedly at Munro, who had the grace to look down. There was only one place that information could have come from – and they all knew it.
Then Johnstone addressed them, and this time, his voice was full of confidence. ‘Miss Wylie has in her possession her father’s plans, gentlemen, and she and her mother, as his heirs, have inherited his contract with you, especially since there is money still to be paid to them for it. I suggest that your offer to her should be more realistic before she does anything about giving up the plans or the bridge contract. If she so chose, she could hire another contractor to complete the bridge, and then claim her dues from you.’ Having said his piece, he sat back and awaited their reactions.
Miller was the first to speak. ‘This is nonsense. The bridge is half-finished and the contractor is dead. It is of paramount importance that the work be completed as quickly as possible. The lines from the north and the south have nearly reached the river: they’ll be there by next spring. We don’t want the opening of the line to be held up for months. Every day that passes means we lose money.’
Now, for the first time, Emma Jane took part in the discussion. ‘The bridge is ahead of schedule – I can see that from the plans,’ she broke in. ‘If my father had lived, he would easily have finished on time.’
Miller shot her a look of open dislike. ‘But he didn’t live, did he? We could call in our own men and build an ordinary bridge quite quickly, but your father’s grandiose scheme is already too far advanced. For myself, I’d be sorely tempted to pull it down, but by this stage that would cost more money than continuing with the thing.’
She stared at him aghast. ‘But it’s going to be the most beautiful railway bridge in the country! He designed it with that aim in view. You can’t pull it down and put a stumpy little, ordinary-looking bridge in its place.’
He leaned forward and said with cruel deliberation, ‘If it wasn’t for the fact that those high embankments on each side have already been built up, and the stone piers laid, I would. But it’d mean making deep cuttings at each side of the river and that would take another year. I never liked the damned thing from the start, I can tell you. Now my concern is getting it finished.’
Johnstone stepped in again. ‘Give Miss Wylie and her mother fifteen thousand pounds and they’ll hand over the plans.’
Miller slapped the table hard with a clenched fist. ‘Never! We’re left with a half-built bridge and you’re asking us to pay almost the full price for it. We’ve got the contract. We’ll take you to court and force you to finish it yourselves rather than pay that sort of money.’
Emma Jane heard herself saying in a clear, resounding voice, ‘I’ll finish it then.’ Everyone, including Johnstone, stared at her.
‘I beg your pardon?’ asked Miller.
‘I said that I’ll finish it. I’ll take on the responsibility for my father’s contract and finish it. I’ve got the plans – I can hire engineers. I shall complete it and hold you to the contract. It’ll be quite lucra
tive in the end, won’t it, Mr Johnstone?’ She looked at her astonished lawyer who had been shaking his head, trying to make her stop talking.
‘Yes, it will. There’s a big share offer, and when the line’s running you’ll be able to sell them at a profit, that’s certain,’ he was forced to say.
‘Enough to clear the estate debts?’
‘Oh yes.’
She looked back at Miller. ‘Then I’ll finish the bridge. I’ll honour the contract.’
Again Johnstone asked for privacy to discuss the problem. Again he and Emma Jane went to the anteroom. Johnstone’s kindly face was creased with concern as he said to her, ‘I hope you’re only trying to wheedle more money out of Miller, Miss Wylie. You don’t know anything about building bridges.’
‘Oh, I’m quite serious. I’ll easily find people who do know about bridge-building. Father had a very good assistant and he’s still up there continuing with the work. What’s more, I helped my father with his plans. He explained everything to me and I’m sure that with the right labour force, I could do it. The plans are very specific, you know. Father was most meticulous.’
‘How old are you?’ Johnstone asked her. He had been thinking of her as little more than a child dressed up like a woman of fashion in her purple clothes, but the way she was speaking now made him reassess her, and he realised there was more to the mousy-looking, shy girl than first appeared.
‘I’m twenty-five,’ she lied.
‘I’d no idea Christopher’s daughter was as old as that,’ he said.
She saw she was wearing him down and pressed her advantage by saying, again not completely truthfully, ‘After James died, I helped Father with his plans and drawings, especially on this bridge. I know all about it, and I want it to be built exactly as he intended. If we leave it to them it’ll end up a cut-price version. You can see that, can’t you?’
A Bridge in Time Page 36