by Mary Nichols
The offer accepted, the visit came to an end, Miles and his mother returned to their carriage for the journey home.
‘I did not exaggerate, did I?’ his mother said. ‘Miss Somerfield is indeed a beauty.’
‘Yes, but rather cool, I thought.’
‘Cool?’ she repeated. ‘Whatever do you mean?’
‘She is stiff and contained and she looks at her mother for guidance before she dare open her mouth. I cannot imagine her falling head over heels in love.’
‘Falling in love, Miles? That is surely something the lower orders do. And it leads to all sorts of dangers.’
‘Oh, Mama, where did you learn that nonsense?’ He laughed. ‘Did you not fall in love with Papa?’
‘Certainly not!’
‘No? Then how did you manage to live with him all these years and beget me into the bargain? Did Papa love you?’
‘Miles, I do not think that is a subject to be discussed between mother and son.’
‘Why not? It is something that has always puzzled me.’
‘We were introduced to each other by our parents. My own parents pointed out what an advantageous marriage it would be for me and I trusted them. And in many ways it has been. I have the Earl’s name and a place in society and I want for nothing…’
‘Except love.’
‘Oh, that is overrated. It is more important to be comfortable with each other.’
‘Mama, you will never convince me of that. I want to be in love with the lady I marry, to feel she is the only one for me and I for her.’
‘Then you had better set about falling in love with Verity Somerfield,’ she said crisply, making him smile.
Chapter Four
They were driving through Warburton on the way home, when Miles noticed a small crowd outside the offices of the Warburton Record. ‘What the devil’s going on?’ he murmured and called to the driver to pull up. He was out before the wheels had stopped turning. ‘I will be back directly,’ he told his mother as he left.
The crowd was, for the most part, made up of women, some with shopping baskets on their arms, some with children at their skirts. He did not need to speak for them to make way for him. There was a jagged hole in the glass of the window at the front of the shop and Helen was punching the rest out of it with a gloved hand and the end of the broom she carried.
‘What happened?’ he demanded.
‘Someone threw a brick through the window.’ Her voice was flat, but he could detect the watery mixture of fear and anger in it.
‘Are you hurt?’
‘Luckily, no.’
‘Who did it and why?’
‘I do not know. I did not see anything. I was in the back room when I heard the glass shatter. Someone must have a real grudge against me. The Earl, perhaps…’
‘Throwing bricks is surely beneath him.’
‘He could have ordered one of his minions to do it.’
‘You do not really believe that, do you? He doesn’t need to stoop to such childishness.’ He paused. ‘But you have made other enemies besides my father, have you not? There was that fellow who accosted you on Saturday.’
‘He believed I had betrayed him and was only warning me.’
‘Perhaps this was to reinforce his warning.’ He nodded towards the gaping hole. ‘What are you going to do about that? You can’t leave it open to the elements and anyone who takes a fancy to your belongings. All those books…’
‘I’ll find a piece of canvas and some timber. You go on your way. Your carriage is waiting.’
‘Certainly not.’ He turned to the women. ‘Did any of you see who did this?’
They shook their heads.
‘In that case, off home with you. There’s nothing you can do. I will deal with this.’
They went reluctantly, muttering that no one was safe these days and it was a foolish thing to live alone like Miss Wayland did and carry on her father’s business. Miles, who secretly agreed with them, ushered them away, then went over to his mother and told her what had happened. ‘You take the carriage,’ he said. ‘I cannot leave Miss Wayland to struggle alone. When her shop is secure, I will come home.’
‘Miles, must you? I am sure it is not a proper thing to do. Find a man to do it for her.’
‘I will, but it must be one she trusts. She is very afraid, though she is pretending otherwise.’
‘How will you get home?’
‘Walk.’
‘Three miles?’
‘Mama, it is only a gentle stroll. I walked leagues more than that in the Peninsula.’
‘That was before you were wounded.’
‘The saw-bones assured me that walking would help to strengthen my muscles.’
‘Very well, but do not be long. If your father finds out…’
‘Mama, I am no longer a child to be ordered and scolded. I have become used to giving orders myself. I can deal with my father.’
‘But when you quarrel there is such a bad feeling in the house, it makes me jumpy.’
‘I am sorry for that, Mama, truly I am. If my father asks where I am, tell him you do not know.’ He shut the door of the carriage and told the driver to take her ladyship home, then he returned to Helen, who had knocked out most of the remaining glass and swept it into a heap.
‘Leave it and go inside,’ he said, trying to take the broom from her, but she held on to it.
‘My lord, if you think I am going to let you sweep the road outside my home and in that finery, too, you are mistaken. We would both be a laughing stock. It would not be good for my business or your image.’
‘I cannot believe you are concerned about my image,’ he said, ushering her into the shop, broom and all. A large brick lay in another heap of glass on the floor.
‘I am not. But I have a business to run and it depends on the goodwill and respect of the townsfolk.’
He realised that, but it did not deter him. ‘We must do something about this mess. Where is your young assistant?’
‘I sent him to report the livestock auction in Swaffham. Farmer Harrison is selling his boar and it is enormous. Everyone wants to know how much it fetches. It was fortunate Edgar was absent, because the brick hit his table and showered it with glass before it slid across the floor. He would almost certainly have been injured, if not killed.’
‘And the other one? The print setter.’
‘Tom was in the back room, printing a poster.’ She was staring down at the mess in a forlorn kind of way as if not knowing how to deal with it. It was unlike the forthright, practical woman he had come to know. He supposed everyone had their limits and maybe, after a year of struggling, she had reached hers.
‘Not another seditious one, I hope.’ It was said with a smile. Glass scrunched under his Hessians whenever he moved, so he stood still.
She managed a wan smile back. ‘No, an advertisement for a dance at the Warburton Assembly Rooms to celebrate the anniversary of the victory at Waterloo. The proceeds are to go to the old soldiers.’
‘And will you go?’
‘I expect so. The Committee will expect a good report of it.’
‘Then as it is such a worthy cause, perhaps I should put in an appearance, too. Where is Tom now?’
‘He went off to deliver the posters and I told him he could go home afterwards. One of his children is sick and, as we don’t print the paper today, I did not need him.’
It sounded as if she did not have enough work to keep them all busy and his sympathy for her increased. She was battling against overwhelming odds and he knew what that was like. ‘You are alone in the house?’
‘Betty is upstairs, but she is a timid soul and is terrified to come down.’ She picked up the brick and put it on the table, then began sweeping the glass and torn paper into a heap.
‘You need the help of a good strong man.’
She laughed. ‘You, my lord?’
‘Why not?’
‘We are on opposite sides of the fence.’
‘I am not on either side.’
‘Sitting on the fence must be very uncomfortable, my lord.’
He laughed; she had retained her sense of humour, so perhaps things were not so bad after all. ‘I was thinking of asking one of the men to come in and help clear this up and do something about the window. And you need someone here all night…’
‘My lord,’ she gasped. ‘You cannot possibly stay here all night. It would be most improper. We should never live it down. Betty and I will manage.’
‘And if he comes back?’ He spread his hands to encompass the mess. ‘Some canvas and wood will not keep him out.’
‘What makes you think he will come back? He has done what he set out to do…’
‘Frighten you to death.’
‘I am not frightened. I am angry.’
He did not believe her. ‘All the same, you cannot be left here with only a young girl for protection. Who among the men do you trust?’
‘I do not know whom I can trust. Any single one of them could have done this.’
‘What about Jack Byers? Do you trust him?’
‘Yes, but he is at Ravensbrook.’
He went to the gaping hole that had been the window and looked about him for someone to send. The women had all obeyed his instructions and gone home; the only man to be seen was the idiot he had seen on the common. He seemed to be watching the shop, grinning and dancing about from one foot to the other in boots far too big for him. Had he put the brick through the window? ‘Hey, you,’ he shouted, stepping outside. ‘Come here, will you?’
The fellow fled as he had before. Miles shrugged and turned to look about him. Jack Byers’s oldest boy was dawdling along the road with his hands in his trouser pockets. He called him across and despatched him to fetch his father as fast as he could. Then he went back to Helen.
‘Thank you, my lord,’ she said. ‘I am sure Mr Byers will make the room weather-tight.’
If it was meant as a dismissal, he ignored it. He would not go until he had helped Jack make the place as secure as they could and arranged for him to keep watch on the place all night until the glass could be replaced the following day. ‘I will wait until he arrives.’
‘But, my lord, he might not be easily found and it is a long walk. It might be hours.’
‘Oh, I am sure we can amuse ourselves. Do you think Betty will make us some tea?’
‘Of course.’ She left him to go upstairs to ask the maid to produce refreshments and bring them downstairs. She would not invite him into her living quarters; it was better for their reputations to stay in the shop in full view of passers-by. When she returned downstairs he had not only swept up all the glass and filled an empty box with it, but had taken every last shard from the frame so no one could be cut by it. It left the shop wide open and the wind was swirling about. The clouds were lower over the roofs, too, and it looked as though there would be more rain before long.
‘I think it would be wise to move the books to the back of the shop,’ he said, putting down the brush and shovel he had found in the back room. ‘If the rain comes in, they will be ruined.’ He began suiting action to words and she followed suit, piling the books on the floor as far from the window as possible.
‘My lord, why are you doing this?’ she asked. ‘You must have other calls on your time.’
‘Did you expect me to walk by on the other side of the road?’
‘You were not walking. You could easily have driven past.’
He stopped, his arm full of books, to look at her. ‘When I see a lady needing help and I am able to offer it, then I do so. There are times when a woman needs a willing man.’
She laughed. ‘And you are willing?’
He looked sideways at her, a faint smile on his lips. He could so easily have misinterpreted her question. ‘To shift books, yes.’
She realised his answer was meant to establish their relationship was nothing more than chivalry on his part. A son of the Earl of Warburton, chivalrous? That took some believing, except that he had never been anything else towards her. ‘Then I thank you, but I really can manage.’
‘Don’t be so obstinate, Helen. You need help and I am here to help.’ He paused. ‘Unless you make it very clear you do not want me or need me.’
‘Oh.’
‘So?’
She hesitated; she had been frightened and was not sure, even now, that whoever had thrown that brick was not still watching her. Why he wanted to help her she could not fathom, but she would be a fool to reject his offer. ‘My lord, I would not be so ungrateful.’
‘Then let us finish moving these books.’ And, as Betty came down the stairs carrying a tray, ‘Ah, here is our tea.’
The girl put the tray on the table, bobbed a curtsy and scuttled back to the upper regions.
There was bread and butter and cakes on the tray besides a pot of tea. They left the remainder of the books to sit at the table on the side furthest from the draught from the window and Helen poured the tea.
‘‘Tis is like having a picnic,’ he said, helping himself to bread and butter, knowing that a five-course meal was being served at Ravens Park. Somehow he knew he was enjoying this repast more. ‘Do you like to go on picnics, Helen?’
She ignored his frequent use of her given name; to have made a fuss about it would only stir him into further impropriety and she was too exhausted and too muddled in her head to exchange that kind of banter with him. ‘I rarely have the time. We used to go when my mother was alive. The fresh air was good for her.’
‘How long since she passed away?’
‘Six years. Papa died a year ago.’
‘I am sorry, I did not mean to make you sad. Have you no other relations?’
‘None that approve of me.’ She gave him a wry smile. ‘My father had no family and my mother’s family are rather proper. They deplored the way my father brought me up. Mannish, they said, unmarriageable, and I am persuaded they were right.’
‘That is nonsense,’ he said, appraising her figure with appreciation. ‘You are nothing like a man.’
‘I am too tall and thin and my hair is too short for a lady.’
‘What decided you to wear your hair like that?’
‘I have no one to dress it—Betty is hopeless at it and I cannot spare the time to struggle with it myself, so I took the scissors to it.’
‘It is very pretty. I like it. And as for being unmarriageable, I must disagree there, too. I am sure if you were to…’
She laughed while he struggled for words that would not offend her. ‘Put myself in line, you mean? Make myself available?’
‘Yes, I suppose that is what I meant, though I would not have expressed it so forthrightly.’
‘Well, I will not do it. The marriage market is all so false, to-ing and fro-ing, tiptoeing around, following convention and making polite meaningless conversation. All for what? As far as the woman is concerned it is to become the property of her husband along with everything else she owns, to subject herself to his will however much it might run counter to her own. I prefer my independence, then I can at least try to do some good in the community, even if it is only pointing out wrongs.’
‘Oh, dear, that has put me in my place.’
‘Not at all, my lord. We were not talking of you, were we?’
‘No,’ he agreed swiftly. ‘But would you never make an exception? There must be some merit in having someone with whom to share your problems and triumphs. Wanting to be with them no matter what.’
‘When I meet such a one I will let you know, my lord.’
It put an end to that particular strand of conversation; as the food had all been consumed and the tea drunk, they returned to moving the books. Jack Byers had not arrived by the time they had finished and they sat down again to wait for him. Helen did not want to resume their previous conversation; it had been too personal for comfort. He had drawn things out of her that she had never told anyone before, but if she were honest with herself, there had been n
o one to tell: not Tom or Edgar or Betty.
‘Have you heard what the men think of the market-garden idea?’ she asked.
‘No, although I believe Byers has arranged a meeting.’
‘Will you attend it?’
‘I have not made up my mind. I am only the agent for the owner, after all, and must stand back from it. I do not want to interfere.’
She laughed. ‘Viscount Cavenham, son of the Earl of Warburton, not wanting to interfere. That must surely be a first.’
‘You do not always have to link my name with my father’s, you know,’ he said. ‘I am perfectly capable of standing on my own.’
‘Oh, I am sure you are and therefore to be held—’
‘At arm’s length,’ he finished for her.
‘I was going to say “in respect”,’ she said.
‘That is a whisker. You have no more respect for me than you have for my father.’ His once-pristine clothes had become dusty and smudged with dirt. White pantaloons and shiny black Hessians were not suitable wear for doing dirty jobs. He did not seem to mind, but then he did not have to clean them and, if they were past cleaning, he could easily purchase more.
‘On the contrary, my lord. You have earned some respect. He has not. He has only ever earned fear. I wonder why that is?’
‘So do I. It might help me to understand him.’
‘Do you not understand him?’
‘No, I do not think anyone does.’
She sighed. ‘Do you think he really will take me to court?’
‘I do not know. Let us hope he relents. He might, if you were to retract.’
They were back to that again, but she did not have to answer because Jack Byers had arrived and Miles turned to tell him what he wanted done. He was despatched to buy heavy canvas, some nails and wood. Miles turned to Helen. ‘Do you have a hammer?’
‘There will be one in my father’s toolbox, I expect. He was always mending things. It’s in the back room.’
She took him through to show him where the box was kept and he brought it back to the front of the shop and put it on the table. ‘It will only be a temporary repair until you can call in a glazier,’ he said, sorting through the tools to find what he wanted. ‘Can you do that first thing tomorrow?’