by Mary Nichols
Dominic picked up the largest of the diamonds and smiled to himself. He had proved his critics wrong. They had said trade was demeaning in a peer of the realm who should be above such things, and what had he ever done to make him think he could make a profit from it? Profit was vulgar.
There might have been a time when he might have agreed with them, a time when he was young and his father was alive, a time when he had no idea his inheritance would be a pile of debts with an estate which had been allowed to run down until there was nothing left but the old house and the land itself.
The year before, at the age of twenty-six, he had succeeded his father and had cast about him for a remedy, short of parting with the house and its contents. A small parcel of land had been sold in order to stave off the immediate threat, but he needed more, much more, if he was to restore his home and make the land fruitful.
It was Bertie Cosgrove, a boyhood friend, who had told him about the profits to be made from trade, especially with India, and cited an acquaintance of his lately come home from several years out there, who was as rich as Croesus. It was, so he said, impossible to fail and now the war was over and all danger from Napoleon a thing of the past, trading vessels were moving freely again.
There were many reasons why Dominic could not go to India himself; he had a young sister who was dependent on him, there was the estate which needed his attention and, most of all, there was Sophie.
He had asked her to marry him the year before, somewhat prematurely because he was in mourning for his parents and had only then become aware of the parlous state of his finances. They had gone on a picnic party to Richmond at which there had been a great deal of horseplay among the men and some surreptitious flirting. Although she had always been on the periphery of his acquaintances, he had suddenly become aware of her beauty and easy charm.
She was very popular and was to have her own come-out ball that Season which his mourning precluded him from attending, a source of great regret to him. She had laughingly told him that she expected several offers of marriage on that occasion, which was probably no less than the truth, for she was a viscount’s daughter whose dowry was said to be considerable.
He told himself that the dowry had not been a factor; he wanted her for herself. Afraid of losing her, he had proposed at the picnic and been accepted. All London knew of it, though they had postponed the announcement until he should be out of mourning and had brought his finances about. It was a matter of pride, he had told her; he would not have it said he married her for her money.
It was that more than anything which had made him look seriously at the idea of trading with India and Bertie, who had once been a seagoing man, had introduced him to Captain Joseph Greenaway. The Captain had served throughout the war, but was on half-pay, a state of affairs he had been anxious to remedy. He had a little prize money saved, and Dominic put in all the money he could scrape together, to lease a brig with its crew and pay for a cargo. It had been a gamble, but a gamble that had turned out well.
That first voyage had made a good profit so he had handed the bulk of it back for a second trip, and now here was the Silken Maid, home again with yet another cargo. If they went on like this they would soon be able to buy the ship. A fleet of ships!
He turned the diamond over in his hand, smiling at his own fantasy. ‘This will make a fine betrothal ring,’ he said, tying the stone in the corner of his handkerchief. ‘I’ll take it to Rundell and Bridges myself; they’ll make it up for me. You know what to do with the rest.’
‘Yes, my lord. While I was in Calcutta I was given a glimpse of a diamond the size of a pigeon’s egg which might be for sale at a good price. Obtaining that would set the seal on the venture because I don’t doubt it would make a good profit. The Regent himself would covet it.’
‘Maybe, but buying it would depend on the profit we make on this cargo and what you can make with the outgoing goods.’
‘You have a return cargo?’
‘I am in the middle of negotiating one. It will take another week or two, so take some leave. By the time you come back, it will be ready and waiting. In the meantime, will you come and take a celebratory drink with me?’
‘I thank you, my lord, but my family will be expecting me as soon as news that we have docked reaches them.’
‘Of course.’ He was on the point of leaving, when he turned back. ‘Who was the young lady I met on deck? She was wrapped up in a cloak which was certainly not in the latest mode, but I think she must be a lady by the way she spoke and the way she carried herself. She told me she was travelling with her brother. I did not know we had the facilities to take passengers.’
‘That was Miss Woodhill.’ The Captain smiled. ‘A charming young lady, but I know nothing about her except that she has recently lost her father who was in the employ of the East India Company and she is now the sole guardian of her young brother. It is a great responsibility for one so lacking in years. They were looking for a cheap passage and I thought why not? It’s all grist to the mill.
‘I turned my cabin over to the lady and slept in here on the settle. The boy went in with the first mate; there is a second bunk in his cabin. They both seemed very content with the arrangement, possibly because I asked little more than their board by way of fare. You do not object, do you?’
‘No, though it can hardly have been comfortable. Do they have a family here?’
‘That I do not know, my lord. Do you wish me to make enquiries?’
‘No, not at all, I asked out of curiosity, no more.’
Which was nothing but the truth, he told himself, as he returned to his carriage and ordered his driver to take him to Bond Street. He would have a few rounds of sparring at Gentleman Jackson’s and then go on to Grillons where he had arranged to meet Bertie Cosgrove.
Chapter Two
‘I really think this hotel is too dear for us,’ Emma said, looking round the crowded dining-room at the splendidly dressed patrons. ‘Everyone seems so top of the trees.’
The men were clad in bright coloured coats and even brighter waistcoats. Their starched cravats sat under collar points which reached their cheeks and their legs were encased in tight-fitting pantaloons. The younger ladies were dressed in gowns of flimsy silk or net over satin which revealed more than they covered, having high waists with low necklines, while the more matronly were in heavier brocades and velvets with padded skirts from which their ankles peeped in brightly coloured stockings.
It was not that she was over-awed or even particularly envious; hadn’t she attended Society functions at the British Consulate in Calcutta with her father? And held her own. No, it was simply that, in their straitened circumstances, she felt out of place. Her own gown was one of Mrs Goodwright’s, a deep mauve sarcenet which the good lady had said might do in lieu of mourning, and though it had been made to fit Emma’s slim waist and was trimmed with white lace, the colour did nothing for her complexion.
‘Just look at the gems round that lady’s throat,’ Emma said, nodding towards a neighbouring table. ‘They must be worth a fortune. Why, she even has them in her hair. And her gown must have cost a thousand rupees.’
‘You know they don’t have rupees in England,’ Teddy said, making inroads into the lamb cutlets and vegetables with which his plate was piled. Ladies’ fashions did not interest him, though he had thrown an admiring glance at one of the patrons, who had just entered. His double-breasted blue tailcoat fitted across his broad shoulders as if he had been poured into it. His waistcoat was a shining creation of blue and yellow stripes and his white muslin cravat was starched and tied with such precision that Teddy could only stare in admiration.
The man seemed thoroughly at ease and very pleased with himself, chatting animatedly to his companion, a big man with red-gold curls, wearing buckskin breeches and a cord coat.
‘Of course I know,’ Emma said. ‘But it is difficult to think of guineas and half-crowns; it makes my head spin trying to convert it. And you are not above ma
king mistakes. I heard you asking for the dhobi-wallah when we were shown to our rooms.’
‘I wanted my shirt washed.’
‘Now, of course, we are a laughing stock. I wish we had not come here.’
‘Don’t be a ninny, Em, no one is laughing.’ A loud guffaw from the gentleman in the buckskin breeches gave the lie to that statement, though he was not laughing at them but at something his companion had said. ‘And what other could we do? I asked the Captain to recommend a good hotel and he said we could not go wrong with Grillons.’
‘He did not know how impecunious we are,’ she said. ‘Though I think he might have guessed, considering we were obliged to travel on a cargo ship with no passenger accommodation. It is too late to go anywhere else tonight, but tomorrow we must find more modest lodgings. And then we must both search for work, if you are still set against going to Mountforest Hall.’
‘You know I am,’ Teddy said grimly. ‘I would rather starve. But we’ll not do that, for I intend to go to Leadenhall Street and ask for work at Company headquarters. I can be a Writer just as well here as in Calcutta.’ He stopped suddenly and leaned forward. ‘Don’t turn round, but there is a dandy at the next table who is looking at you as if he knows you.’
‘Don’t be foolish, Teddy, how can anyone know us here?’ She pretended to drop her napkin and, in bending to retrieve it, took a surreptitious look behind her. Her eyes met the laughing eyes of the young man who had boarded the Silken Maid earlier in the day. His hand reached Emma’s napkin before hers. He smiled and handed it to her. ‘Yours, I believe, Miss Woodhill.’
She sat up, knowing her cheeks were burning. ‘Thank you, sir, but how did you know my name?’
‘Why, from Captain Greenaway, of course. We do not usually take on passengers and I asked him who you were.’
‘We? Oh, you are the owner of the Silken Maid?’
‘Let us say I have an interest. I trust your voyage was a comfortable one?’
She laughed, revealing even white teeth and a dimple in her cheek which captivated him. ‘Hardly that. The weather was bad and the sea very rough. The porthole in the cabin did not fit properly and everything became soaked, which is why I had nothing but this old gown to wear this evening.’
‘It is very charming,’ he said, looking her up and down. Why on earth had she and her brother chosen Grillons? It was way above their touch. He was filled with admiration for her courage; finding herself in a tight corner, she had chosen to attack. ‘But I am sorry about the porthole. It will, of course, be repaired before the ship sails again.’
‘Which is not much help to me.’ Why was she being so belligerent? He had been nothing but pleasant and it sounded as if she were determined to quarrel with him. It was not a courteous way to behave towards a stranger. And yet he did not seem like a stranger; once again she felt as if she had always known him.
‘No, but please accept my apologies and allow me to recompense you for the inconvenience.’
‘That is not in the least necessary. The laundry maid…’ She caught sight of Teddy laughing and frowned at him. ‘Everything is being seen to and will be put to rights by tomorrow. But I thank you for the offer.’ She picked up her reticule which lay on the table at her side and stood up. If she stayed any longer she could not trust herself not to ask where she had met him before and that would be embarrassing for everyone. ‘If you will excuse me, I will retire. It has been a tiring day.’
‘Of course.’ He rose and bowed to her. ‘Are you staying in London?’
‘For the moment.’
‘Then I wish you a pleasant stay.’
‘Thank you. Come along, Teddy.’ With that she swept from the room followed by her bemused brother.
‘What was all that about?’ he demanded as they made their way up the stairs to their room.
‘Nothing.’
‘It didn’t look like nothing to me. Why, you were as red as a turkey cock…’
‘I was not.’
‘Yes, you were.’
‘Then it was because the room was so hot, and perhaps I had drunk too much of the wine.’
‘It couldn’t be because you took a shine to him, could it?’
‘No, of course not. I have hardly spoken half a dozen words to the gentleman. Why, I don’t even know his name.’
‘Do you want to know it? I will run back and find out if you like.’
‘You will do no such thing! Go to bed, we have a great deal to do tomorrow.’
Teddy sighed. ‘Pity. I wouldn’t have minded making his acquaintance. He’s a real Corinthian, don’t you think?’
‘No, I don’t. It’s obvious he is a nabob. I think he has shares in the Silken Maid’s cargo.’
‘So what? Are you become so high in the instep, you can look down on honest trading? He seems to have done well from it, judging by his dress.’
‘And if he has, what concern can it possibly be of ours?’ She paused outside the door of her room. ‘Goodnight, Teddy.’
It took her a long time to go to sleep that night. Her head was filled with the newness of everything, the sights, the smells, the sounds of a strange country. And yet it was the country her father had always called home. She must make it her home. But, oh, how difficult it was going to be! She missed Papa dreadfully. If he had been alive and bringing her to England on a visit, it would have been a wonderful adventure, but as it was she felt lost and, in spite of Teddy who was very dear to her, very lonely.
It was all very well for Mrs Goodwright to give her a book on etiquette, but it didn’t go nearly far enough. For instance, in England was it permissible for a lady to speak to a strange man in a public dining-room, if he did one a service? Ought she simply to have thanked him and turned away? But that would have been rude, especially after he had taken the trouble to find out her name and ask about the voyage.
Six months ago, she would not have troubled herself about it; she would have done what came naturally to her, secure in the knowledge of her place in society. She would not have given the rights and wrongs of it a thought, much less spent sleepless hours worrying about it.
Had she really blushed? Oh, how mortifying! Whatever had he thought of her? It was just as well they were moving on tomorrow. She didn’t want another uncomfortable encounter with that gentleman.
Two mornings later Emma and Teddy set out from two tiny rooms on the top floor of a lodging house on the north side of Oxford Street to look for work. A slight breeze had blown away the misty rain and the sun was shining, a day for optimism, they decided. It was an optimism which was soon deflated. Emma had a notion that she could look after young children or even teach, but, according to the agency to whom she applied, no one wanted their children taught by someone whose sole experience was giving Indian children the rudiments of English. She was very conscious of her outmodish brown bombazine gown and tanned complexion; English ladies seemed to be uncommonly pale.
If she had not been so concerned about their dwindling resources, she would have enjoyed exploring the city. It was so different from Calcutta and yet there were similarities. Many of the fine buildings had their counterparts in Calcutta, which had been dubbed ‘the city of palaces’, but the people who thronged the streets and rode in a bewildering array of carriages, were, for the most part, white.
The markets, like markets the world over, were colourful and noisy but the produce they sold was different: hot peas, meat pies, herrings, cabbages and bootlaces instead of chuppattis, samosas, melons, copper ornaments and saris. And though there were English churches in Calcutta, there did not seem to be any mosques and temples in London, shining pink and gold in the sun, no ruins, no fort. St Paul’s was impressive and one day she might go inside, but at that moment she was too anxious to reach her next interview. Having given up the idea of teaching, she had decided to try for a position as a lady’s maid.
The encounter lasted less than five minutes, which was the time it took to realise she would be nothing but a slave to a cantankerous old
lady twenty-four hours a day, and for a pittance. Judging by the tiny fire in the grate and the chill in the house which was mirrored in the lady’s demeanour, there would be no warmth there. It was the same in many of the places to which she was sent and on the few occasions when she liked what she saw, she was turned down on the grounds of her inexperience. She returned home in the evening, hoping that Teddy had had better luck.
He had not. ‘I didn’t get any further than speaking to a supervisor,’ he said, disgustedly, as they sat over a frugal meal. ‘All he said was, “Go to Haileybury and finish your schooling, then we might be able to use you.” He said Haileybury College was like Fort William in Calcutta, intended to produce Indian administrators.’
‘I wish you could,’ Emma said. ‘But I’m afraid it’s out of the question.’
‘I know. I thought of journalism, but when I tried a newspaper office, they laughed at me, said I knew nothing, but I could be the tea-wallah, if I liked. I am not that desperate, Em.’
‘No, of course not.’
‘If I cannot work for The Company, then I would wish to do something with some excitement in it. Do you know there are hundreds of stage coaches in London? They go all over the country every day at a bruising speed, twenty miles an hour some of them. And the coachmen are fine fellows. I wouldn’t mind being a coachman or a guard. The guard has a blunderbuss to frighten off highwaymen. Come to think of it, it might be exciting to be a highwayman. Your jewels or your life, and all that.’
Emma laughed. ‘Oh, Teddy, you are a goose, but what would I do without you?’
‘I can’t stay tied to your apron strings forever, Em,’ he said, suddenly serious. ‘If you are worrying what will happen to me if you are offered a position, please don’t. Whether you will have it or not, I am a man now and must find my own way.’