by Mary Nichols
She sat again and he went behind the desk to his own chair. ‘What can I do for you? I assume it has nothing to do with the Co-operative?’
‘No, nothing. It is a personal matter. I have decided to sell the Warburton Record and would like your help in finding a suitable buyer. I want one who will carry on the business and employ Tom and Edgar.’
‘Goodness me, this is a surprise,’ he said. ‘I was just talking to Mr Sobers about your case. He knows nothing about a disagreement between your father and the Earl of Warburton, I am afraid.’
‘I am not surprised.’
‘Why have you decided to sell the paper?’
‘Because I want to leave Warburton and make my home somewhere else. I have decided that there can never be peace between me and the Earl and I am tired of fighting him. I have told Miles—Viscount Cavenham—that is what I mean to do and he is going to ask the Earl if he will drop the charges against me, if I do that.’
‘And if he will not?’
‘Then I will use the proceeds of the sale in my defence. You cannot defend me for nothing; as it is such a serious charge I am sure my previous benefactors will not continue to finance me.’
‘They have not said that.’
‘No, but I wish to be independent. I have never been a beggar, Mr Mottram, and am determined I never shall be.’
‘I see. You are taking a gamble, Miss Wayland.’
‘I have no choice. I must leave Warburton.’
‘Where will you go? What will you do?’
‘I have been mulling that over and have decided, if there is enough money to finance it, I should like to open a bookshop.’
He smiled. ‘Bookshops often get into trouble when they sell material deemed to be seditious. Are you sure you would not be jumping out of the frying pan into the fire?’
‘I do not intend to sell seditious material.’
‘I must point out, Miss Wayland, you did not realise you were selling seditious material when you accused the militia of being barbarians. It could happen again. Surely it would be better to open a haberdashery shop and sell ribbons and lace?’
‘I know nothing of ribbons and lace, Mr Mottram, but I do know about print. I am interested in helping people to knowledge and enjoyment of books, especially those who have little learning. The library I set up in my shop in Warburton has been a great success. All manner of people have told me how they have benefited.’
‘Yes, but you have not charged people to borrow books, have you? If they had to buy them, it might be a different story.’
‘Then I shall lend some of them out at a penny a week. Do not include my books in the sale. I am going to need them.’
‘And where will you locate this shop?’
‘Here in Norwich, I think. It has a large population and a good proportion of those must like to read. I shall look for premises as soon as I know how much money I have to spare.’
‘When are you planning to move?’
‘The sooner the better.’
‘And have you discussed this with Viscount Cavenham?’
‘It is nothing to do with Viscount Cavenham,’ she told him sharply, though she was aware of a tell-tale flush staining her cheeks. ‘But, yes, I did tell him.’
‘And what did he say?’
‘He agreed with me. May I leave the sale in your hands, Mr Mottram? It goes without saying that I need the best possible price.’
‘Very well. I shall need your ledgers for prospective buyers to inspect. They will want to know they are taking on a viable business.’
‘I will see that you have them.’
‘And as for the court case—am I still to act in your defence?’
‘Yes, if it comes to court. I am hoping the Earl will realise he has nothing to gain by pursuing it when I am no longer in Warburton to incense him.’
‘I think you are being wise,’ he said slowly. ‘A new start, in a new place. Best thing all round, especially if it gets you off that indictment.’
She thanked him and left. As she had an hour or two to wait for a return coach, she spent the time wandering about the streets of Norwich looking at the shops. Away from the river, in the area surrounding the cathedral, there were some smart premises selling a variety of merchandise and they seemed to be doing good business. Yes, this was where she would come and here she might learn to mend a broken heart.
* * *
Miles, from the room next to James’s office, watched her go with an ache in his heart as heavy as a cannon ball. It restricted his breathing He had heard every word and longed to dash in and tell her he would love her and protect her for ever, that whatever happened in the future, she would not be alone. But he was constrained by his promise to his father, a promise extracted under extreme duress, a promise he would never have made if the consequences of not giving it had not been so dire for Helen, and if his mother had not been so unwell. Helen had gone and he would not speak to her again and, if he found himself near her, he must turn away.
James was back with them. ‘Did you hear that?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll do what I can for her, but it will not be easy selling that paper. It is only a small regional affair and I doubt it’s making much of a profit. I shall be surprised if the proceeds do more than cover a fine, if that. As for defence costs, she expects them to come out of them, too.’
‘She is a foolish child,’ Sobers said. He did not know about Miles paying for the defence and Miles did not want him to know. ‘Her father was even more foolish to leave the business to her. It was bound to end in failure.’
‘It ended because of those lawsuits, not her lack of business sense,’ Miles said. ‘So what about it? Can you get the charge dropped?’
‘It’s not so easy,’ Sobers said. ‘The defamation was a civil action, sedition is a Crown prosecution, but if his lordship and others he has recruited fail to turn up as witnesses, it might be dismissed. I will be surprised if the Earl consents to that.’
‘I think he will,’ Miles said grimly. ‘He indicated to me he would, so long as Miss Wayland leaves Warburton.’
‘That is a significant change of heart,’ Sobers said. ‘How did you manage it?’
‘I simply pointed out that whatever grudge he had against Henry Wayland, it was unfair to hold it against his daughter.’ He paused. ‘Have you any idea what that grudge was?’
‘I would not tell you, if I did. There is such a thing as confidentiality, you know. You had better ask the Earl.’
Miles knew from experience his father would not tell him. ‘So, I can rely on you to do what you can to cancel that trial, can I?’ Miles asked, preparing to leave.
‘I will do what I can, when I have written instructions from the Earl to do so. To date, I have had nothing.’
Miles bowed to Sobers and went downstairs accompanied by James, who saw him to the door. ‘I hope to God my father does not renege on his promise,’ Miles said. ‘It is the only hope Helen has.’
James looked at him with his head on one side. ‘And what have you promised your revered father in exchange?’
‘None of your business, my friend.’
‘No, but I can guess. You have got yourself in something of a coil, have you not? And all because of a pretty face.’
Helen was more than a pretty face, but he had no intention of arguing with his friend about it. James would never understand, any more than his father and mother understood. He hardly understood it himself. He clamped his hat back on his head and limped out into the street. He had left his curricle at the Maid’s Head and if his guess was correct, Helen would take the stage back to Warburton from there. He might catch a glimpse of her.
She was nowhere to be seen and he took charge of the curricle and set off for home. Helen was gone from his life and he might as well get used to the idea.
* * *
Helen tried to put her mind to her business. If it was to be sold as a going concern, she must make it as profitable as she could. She laid
out notices and advertisements, wrote obituaries and kept up the journal for the Co-operative, reported on events taking place in the Assembly rooms, copied news from London that told of riots and disturbances everywhere, particularly in Norfolk. The poor were getting desperate and resorting to violence and arson. Armed with agricultural implements—axes, saws, spades—they were destroying threshing machines, which they saw as taking their livelihoods from them, stealing bread and chickens because they were hungry, demanding money of the wealthier farmers, though they, too, were suffering. Many of them had been arrested and executed, others sent to the hulks for transportation, many more sent to prison. Something would have to be done if the country was not to descend into anarchy.
She had not seen Miles since she told him she would leave Warburton. And she missed him. She missed him so much she did not know how she could bear it. Until now she had not realised how much she depended on him, how much she valued his advice, how much she was able to confide in him. But it was not only that; she missed his dear face, missed being held in his arms, wished she could feel again his lips on hers and the awakening of desire he had aroused in her. But it was gone, all gone. She did not even know if he had spoken to his father on her behalf or if he had been successful. He had not even come to tell her. And that hurt more than anything.
She went one day to the barn, ostensibly to write up the progress being made, but hoping desperately he would be there. Every thing was coming on apace. The glasshouses were glazed and stoves put in to heat them, ready for delicate seedlings. Outside the plots, outlined by narrow grass paths, had been turned over and were being raked and the stones picked off them. There were piles of bricks in the barn ready to start on the walls of the new dwellings. She looked at the lines of white paint and remembered the day Miles had put them there, the day they had gone to Ravensbrook Manor and he had kissed her. That had caused all sorts of tumult inside her, comforting, achingly sensual, demanding and yet tender. Whatever was going on in the world outside had not impinged on that moment. But it had since then. The world and society had taken over and robbed her of happiness.
She left the barn, spoke to some of the men and set off back to Warburton. Today the weather was fine; the sun had even tried to get through. She walked swiftly, her head down. At the crossroads she paused. Here she and Miles had turned off for Ravensbrook Manor, near here they had sheltered from the rain, close together under one cape. Her memories tormented her.
She heard the clop of a horse and looked down the lane to see Miles riding towards her. She stood and waited, her heart beating a tattoo in her chest. He saw her, reined in and sat there, a hundred yards away, looking at her, then he wheeled his horse about and cantered away.
‘Miles,’ she called. ‘Miles…’ But her voice was carried away on the wind.
Chapter Ten
All of Gayton Hall’s windows were ablaze with light. Lanterns were strung all the way down the drive and round the carriage sweep before the front door. Some had even been hung in the shrubbery that skirted the lawn. The road leading to the gates was lined with spectators come to see the grand people arriving, trying to identify them, commenting on their horses and carriages, their clothes and jewellery as they rolled up to the entrance and stepped down into the light streaming from the front door, where footmen in livery stood ready to open the carriage doors and let down the steps.
‘His lordship ain’t stintin’,’ Helen heard one of the bystanders say. ‘Them candles alone must have cost a pretty penny.’
‘Well, it’s a grand occasion, i’n’t it?’ a woman’s voice said. ‘An’ they’ve got money to burn.’
Helen had told Tom and Edgar she ought to be there to report who attended and what they were wearing, even if she could not go inside to describe the scene in the ballroom. She had even begun to compose the article in her head. ‘Two of Norfolk’s foremost families to be united,’ would be the headline. And underneath she would write: ‘On Friday last, Lord and Lady Somerfield of Gaynor Hall hosted a glittering assembly at their country estate in honour of their daughter Verity’s come out. Among the prominent guests were the Earl and Countess of Warburton and their son, Miles, Viscount Cavenham…’ What she was really doing was tormenting herself with the hope that she might catch a glimpse of Miles. Why had he turned his back on her at the crossroads? He could not pretend he had not seen her; she knew he had. And he had cut her dead? It was the most hurtful thing he could have done and she could not get over it. Why? she asked herself over and over again. Why? Had he got to the bottom of the mystery about the feud and decided his father was in the right of it? But surely he could have had the courtesy to tell her so?
One after the other the carriages rolled up and disgorged their occupants, but there was no sign of the Cavenham coach. There were murmurings that the Viscount was keeping his prospective bride waiting. ‘Good for him,’ someone said.
‘Not polite,’ said another.
At last it could be seen making its way towards them and the crowd surged forwards to see as much as they could. Helen was almost knocked over in the crush, but forced her way to the front and was on the drive when the carriage rolled to a stop.
The Earl emerged first, clad in a lilac-coloured coat, pink waistcoat embroidered all over with mauve-and-yellow flowers outlined in gold thread, and white breeches. He held out his hand for his wife. She had covered her pallor with powder and had her hair piled high and powdered within an inch if its life. Not for her the flimsy muslin of the young ladies; her gown of dark blue silk had a full skirt and the waist was where nature intended it should be. She wore a necklace of rubies and diamonds with matching drops dangling from her ears. Miles was the last to descend. He was dressed in a black cutaway coat, black breeches with white silk stockings and silver-buckled dancing pumps. His white muslin cravat was elegantly tied and his wayward curls brushed into submission. He stood on the drive and looked about him at the crowds; then he saw Helen. She stood perfectly still and drank in the sight of him, both elated at seeing him and at the same time cast down to know this finery was not for her. They gazed at each other for a full minute. Behind her the crowds were noisy, behind him the sound of an orchestra could be heard. But they were in a world of their own, a world of silence, a world of memories and lost hopes, a world of despair. The Countess touched his arm and he turned to follow his parents into the house and the door was shut. Helen, blinded by tears, turned and groped her way through the crowd and down the road towards Warburton, unaware that she was being followed by a skinny little man in rags.
* * *
Miles and his parents made their way into the house where they were greeted by Lord and Lady Somerfield and Verity, who was dressed in a gown of pure white silk as behoved a young lady at her coming out. Its only splash of colour was a rose-pink sash tied just below the bust with two ends floating to almost floor level. She wore a slim tiara of rosebuds on her dark hair, which had been taken up to the top of her head from where it fell in corkscrew ringlets. Her mother was in dark red and her father in a plum-coloured velvet coat, white-brocade waistcoat and white breeches.
‘There you are at last,’ Lord Somerfield boomed. ‘We had almost given you up. Thought something must be wrong at home, her ladyship ill or something.’
‘Her ladyship, as you see, is well,’ the Earl said. ‘You must blame Miles. He has had that valet of his dancing round him for hours. He was so anxious that his appearance should be just right for tonight. You must forgive him, Miss Somerfield.’
She preened. ‘Of course I forgive you, Miles. And you are not very late. Shall we go into the ballroom?’ She tucked her hand under Miles’s arm and led him forwards, followed by both sets of parents looking pleased with themselves.
Miles was in a kind of nightmare from which he was afraid there would be no awakening. He had dawdled over his toilette, fussed over by an excited Louis, who kept babbling about how Miss Somerfield would be bowled over by him, until he wanted to yell at the man to keep his ton
gue between his teeth. He had kept finding fault and rejecting muslin cravats one after the other, only to delay the time when he would have to go downstairs and climb into the carriage, wishing he did not have to go, but knowing all the time he had no choice, not if he wanted Helen to be free. To make sure Helen was free he had to shackle himself. If he could not have Helen, it did not matter whom he married—Verity Somerfield would do as well as anyone. But then to see Helen on the road like that had almost undone him. It had taken the greatest effort not to speed over to her and damn everyone else.
The ballroom was full to suffocating. It seemed to Miles that anyone who was anyone in Norfolk and Cambridge society and beyond was there, each trying to outdo the other in the magnificence of their turnout. Both men and women were dressed in a rainbow of colours, glittering with jewellery, and all had come to see him betroth himself to Verity. Flowers and drapery adorned every nook where they could be placed and at the end of the room was a dais on which a full orchestra played. Everyone turned towards them as they entered, looking them up and down as if appraising their attire and the way they comported themselves. As they seemed to be smiling, those who had been dancing continued to dance and those sitting on the sidelines watching went on with their conversations. Miles did not doubt they were talking about him and the announcement they thought was to come. And strangely, as he led Verity forwards, his limp seemed more pronounced than ever.
The Earl and Lord Somerfield escorted the ladies to prominent seats and then disappeared. Miles stood behind Verity’s chair until the dance ended and a new one was announced. It was a stately country dance and he felt safe attempting it. He bent over to speak to Verity. ‘Shall we join this, Miss Somerfield?’
She rose and he took her onto the floor. He bowed, she curtsied. ‘You are looking particularly delightful tonight,’ he told her as they promenaded between two rows of dancers. Politeness dictated he must compliment her, but he was reliving the dance he had had with Helen at the Assembly Rooms. He had been almost sure at that time that their difficulties could be resolved and there might be a happy outcome. She had won her court case and he had taken her to look at Ravenscourt Manor, in the hope that one day they might make it their home. Instead he had been forced to submit to his father’s blackmail for her sake.