A Bright Young Thing

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A Bright Young Thing Page 26

by Brianne Moore


  He swiped at his face with the handkerchief again, then twisted it between his hands. “See, Dad’s not been well. Things slipped. It’s why Mams thought I should come home and take over. The man in charge at the factory is all right, but some of ’em under him are just flat tires. Ha! Flat tires!”

  “Freddie …”

  “Well, they just got behind.” He shrugged. “Happens sometimes, right?”

  “They can’t fall behind,” I said. “This is a business. If some of the men aren’t doing their jobs, they need to be replaced by those who will. The man in charge—”

  “Raines! Oh, he’s the berries, Raines is. Loves that company like it was his own.”

  “He’s trustworthy, then?”

  “Oh, yeah. Straight and square as a house.”

  “I’ll just see about that. I want to talk to him. You, meanwhile, need to clean up and get straight yourself. You won’t be getting any major new orders if you’re drunk all the time and making a spectacle of yourself. David’s sister is going to help.”

  “What, Laura?” He looked panicked and started to rise. “Now, now, that’s just not on, Miss Davies! I never agreed to that!”

  “Freddie!” I pushed him back down with one hand and redoubled the glare. “Do you want the company to go under? Well? Is that what you want?”

  “No,” he answered meekly.

  “Do you want to be a failure?”

  “No?”

  “Then do this thing, Freddie. I’ll make sure Laura doesn’t kill you. You need to straighten up and show all these people that you can apply yourself. Remember how happy you were to prove your sisters wrong? Do it again! Prove yourself, Freddie!” I grabbed him by both shoulders and gave him the Full Glare right in his face.

  Eyes wide, he nodded. “Right you are.”

  “You’ll do as Laura says?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good boy. Now come on, off we go.”

  * * *

  Laura took one look at Freddie and shook her head, clucking. “This’ll be harder than I thought. But we’ll get there, don’t you worry,” she added, patting me on the shoulder. “Right, Freddie! Into your tennis whites. We need to sweat out all that alcohol.”

  He looked desperately at me, but he was getting no sympathy from that quarter. “Remember, Freddie, this is for the good of us all,” I reminded him. “Prove to me that you can make something of yourself.”

  Astonishingly, it worked. Laura took him in hand, and Freddie actually did as she said, from jumping jacks at daybreak to going completely dry. Even David, who had moaned about having Freddie to stay, seemed impressed.

  “I didn’t think he had it in him,” he commented as Freddie finished a round of lunges and looked toward me. I smiled and nodded encouragingly.

  “He may just surprise us all,” I said. But it had only been two weeks. No telling whether Freddie would be able to keep this up for long.

  I, meanwhile, got on the telephone with Raines to try to get a handle on things.

  “Some of the men are a problem,” he admitted. “They’re young, but they’ve got no drive. They do just enough to earn their pint at the pub on a Friday night. And there have been issues with the rubber supply too. A lot of it comes from India and, well, things haven’t been so peaceful there. The disruption drives the price up.”

  “Is there anywhere else where we can get the rubber?” I whispered, looking around to make sure no one was near. Was that a flicker of a shadow on the landing overhead?

  “Sure. But most rubber comes from parts of the world that are … troubled.”

  I sighed, wondering what to do, with so many obstacles beyond my control.

  “I’d not lie about any of this, miss,” Raines said, clearly mistaking my silence for disapproval. “I need this company. I’m not a young man. If I lose this job, I’ll not get another. If this place goes under, I’ll be homeless.”

  That makes two of us.

  “I didn’t think you were lying, Mr. Raines,” I reassured him. “Could you please send the company’s accounts and start weeding out these men who aren’t working out?”

  “Yes, miss. I’ll do that.”

  To keep myself busy, I turned back to writing poetry, something I hadn’t managed to do since the day my parents died. I had a good run one day and as I finished, I glanced up and saw Jeremy hovering in the doorway, watching me with a fond smile.

  “You’re back!” I noted stupidly, as a warmth that had nothing to do with the weather traveled right through me.

  “Am I?” he asked, coming into the room. “Or have you just conjured me up?”

  As he approached me, I reached out and pinched him lightly on the arm. “You seem real enough,” I said decisively. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Not long,” he answered. “I didn’t want to interrupt. What’s this you’re doing?”

  “I’m writing a poem.”

  “Are you?” He claimed a nearby seat. “That’s a charming hobby.”

  “I wouldn’t call it a hobby. It’s quite hard work.”

  “And you, of course, are not interested in simply being a lady of leisure.”

  “Not at all. As Laura says, if we sit too long, we grow moss. And green’s not my color.”

  He laughed, then asked, “Will you let me read it?”

  “Perhaps, when it’s done. I’d hate to leave you suddenly wanting more.”

  He smiled wryly. “That would indeed be a tragedy. But now my curiosity is piqued. ‘Wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?’”

  I leaned toward him. “‘What satisfaction canst thou hope for tonight?’”

  “What indeed?”

  “Lord Dunreaven, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were trying to proposition me.” I tried to ignore the heat creeping up my neck. And a dangerous tingle, deep down.

  “I wouldn’t dare.”

  “No? Why not?”

  “Because I’m not sure you want me to.” He frowned slightly. “Do you?”

  Did I? If I told him to persist, what would he do? Where would it lead? I thought of Laura, laughing: You should take Jeremy as a lover.

  I swallowed hard and changed the subject. “How was Portsmouth?”

  His face fell, the tiniest bit. But he rallied, smiled, and responded: “The same as ever. Full of sailors and one very promising lieutenant commander named Peter Whelan. Unfortunately, I have to report that I’ve failed you. He says his family’s reducing staff at the mines, not adding. I’m very sorry.”

  “Oh. What a shame.” I tried not to think of a man with five children growing more desperate by the day. “Thank you for trying.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.” He seemed almost as disappointed as I.

  “You did more than most,” I told him warmly, reaching across the desk and squeezing his hand. “And I really do appreciate that.”

  He smiled. “Have I missed anything while I’ve been away?”

  “Not much. Joyce has started planning the fete, and thank you very much for that as well. And Freddie’s come for a visit.”

  Just like everyone else, he was taken aback by that. “Freddie? Why is he here?”

  “A project for Laura,” I answered blithely. “It’s going quite well so far.”

  “I’m amazed she hasn’t killed him. It doesn’t seem like it would take much.”

  “Perhaps he’s made of sterner stuff than we all give him credit for.” God, I hoped so. “Everyone’s outside playing croquet. Shall we join them?”

  He smiled warmly. “I was rather enjoying myself here.”

  “Well, I’m afraid I’ve run out of clever things to say. Do be a gentleman and let me hide behind a mallet for a bit while I think of more?” I playfully batted my eyelashes.

  “All right,” Jeremy chuckled. “But only because I’m such a gentleman.”

  * * *

  Vandemark’s accounts arrived three days later: two huge ledgers that I hauled into the study and thwacked down in fron
t of Freddie. His eyes dilated at the sight of them.

  “You and I are going to comb through these and find out exactly what’s going on,” I announced, opening one and taking a seat next to him. “We need to know everything.”

  “But I don’t know anything about any of this,” he said, thumbing the pages of the unopened ledger. “Afraid I’m hopeless at sums.” He chuckled.

  “Well we have to learn, Freddie! Do you really think I know anything about running a business? But like it or not, here we both are, and we need to do something, or loads of people are going to be jobless and penniless, including us. Do you want that?”

  “No. Sounds unpleasant.”

  “That’s right. So let’s get stuck in.”

  I thought it would be an impossible task, making head or tails of the rows and rows of numbers, but it wasn’t. Oh, it was hard going for a while, but eventually it began to make some sense. The practice I’d had with my own accounts helped. And when we got really stuck, Joyce was unexpectedly able to help explain a few things.

  “I used to look at some of my father’s account books,” she explained when she noticed how surprised I was by this talent of hers. “I thought he might be impressed if I learned a little something about his business, but he didn’t think much of my suggestions. Mind, I was only twelve, and they were probably silly. We’ll see if his opinion on my abilities has changed any—did I tell you he’s coming for the fete? He thought it sounded too charming to miss. You know how he is about these very British things.”

  I was only half listening, keeping one eye on the ledgers and the other on a footman who seemed to be lurking just outside the study door. When Joyce mentioned her father, though, something popped into my head. I scrawled Play along on a sheet of paper and showed it to Joyce and Freddie as I loudly said, “Joyce, that’s excellent! It’ll give Freddie and me a chance to discuss our new business deal with him!”

  Freddie seemed completely lost. Joyce frowned but responded, “Oh yes. That’s actually one of the reasons he’s coming. He does like to manage business himself when he can, especially with an order this large.”

  “Did Raines tell you about this?” Freddie asked me.

  “Yes, he did!” I replied jovially. The footman was obviously listening in: he was just standing there with the afternoon post clenched in one hand. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “Yes,” Joyce put in. “An enormous order for–for—” She looked desperately at me, and I mouthed, fifty thousand. “Five hundred thousand!” she finished.

  Freddie’s eyes popped.

  “Won’t it be a laugh when everyone finds out that Porter never intended to take his business elsewhere?” I said. “These rumors, they get so out of hand.”

  “Yes, very,” Joyce agreed. She glanced through the door and said, “Melville, are you finished with that post yet?”

  The footman skittered off.

  “Thank you both,” I murmured.

  Poor Freddie deflated. “Oh, so there’s no order, then?” he asked. He seemed so forlorn I felt badly for having misled him.

  “No, Freddie,” I answered, patting his hand. “I’m just hoping word gets out now that the company’s stable. It’ll make other clients less likely to move elsewhere and may attract some new ones.” Any pie Porter so much as sniffs becomes valuable.

  “Are you finished with me, then?” Joyce asked impatiently. “Because I do have things to do.” She headed for the door, then suddenly stopped. “Oh, Astra: Jeremy telephoned to remind you about going riding with him tomorrow morning.”

  “I can’t.” I gestured to the ledgers. “Would you mind telephoning him back?”

  “Cancel your own spooning sessions,” she snapped. “As I said, I’m busy!”

  She marched out, and I followed as far as the telephone, where I asked to be connected to Midbourne.

  “Midbourne on the line,” a sonorous voice weighted with self-importance informed me.

  “Yes, is his lordship in? This is Astra Davies.”

  “I’m afraid his lordship is out at the moment, miss. May I take a message?”

  “Yes, please. Could you tell him I won’t be able to go riding tomorrow as I’m quite tied up just now? I’m terribly sorry.”

  “I say, Astra,” Freddie said, coming to the door of the study and leaning against the frame, “I’ll be dashed little use to you the rest of today: you’ve plumb worn me out. Can we pick back up tomorrow? Maybe somewhere more private? I can’t make any decent headway with Joyce and Laura and the servants darting in and out all the time.”

  “Yes, all right, Freddie!” I hissed.

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line, then: “I’ll see he gets the message, miss,” and the punctuating click of the receiver being put down.

  I glared briefly at Freddie as I hung up the telephone and pointed back to the study. “Work, Freddie!”

  He slumped back to the ledgers, sighing. “Far as I can see, it’s like old Raines says, there’s trouble with the supply. That is right, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, you’re right,” I agreed, resuming my seat. “All the upheaval is making the price go up and the supply unreliable. But I don’t know what we can do about that.”

  Freddie scrunched his face and pondered. I was amazed he didn’t break a sweat with the effort. “You know,” he said slowly, “when I was in America, I met a fellow who worked for DuPont. He said they had a sort of rubber that they were making without rubber from trees. Synth-something, he called it.”

  “Synthetic?”

  His face brightened and he nodded. “That’s the one! Synthetic. Maybe we could try that. I doubt America’s going to rebel anytime soon—they already did that once!”

  I blinked at him, shocked. “Freddie, you surprise me!”

  He shrugged. “I knew Father would want me to run the business someday, so I did try to learn a little along the way. And things are coming through a bit clearer now I’m off the sauce.”

  “Good for you! Do you remember the man’s name? Could you speak to him?”

  He beamed, warmed by my approval. “Sure could! I’ll do it today, if you want.”

  “I do want.”

  Freddie smiled, nodded, and turned back to the ledger.

  I watched him for a little while and then said, “I’m proud of you, Freddie. You’ve been applying yourself and doing really, really well.”

  “Aww, shucks,” he grinned. “You’ll make me blush.”

  I reached over and squeezed his arm. “I mean it, Freddie. You’ve exceeded my expectations.” No need to tell him how low those expectations had been.

  “Well, I can’t very well see you out on the street, now can I?” he said. “Chivalry and all that, right?”

  I smiled. “You’re very sweet when you want to be.”

  “We’ve all gotta have something to offer, I guess,” he said. “My family never thought I had much of anything to give. They’ll be shocked out of their shoes to find out I’m not hopeless”

  “Of course you aren’t hopeless,” I reassured him. “Surely they know that.”

  “Aww, you can’t blame ’em. I’ve never been much good at much. At least, that’s what all my sisters say. Lord, they gave me an earful when Porter went!” He rolled his eyes. “We had to sell the country pile. We would have had to anyway, probably, but that was the last straw. They said it was my fault.” He shrugged. “Guess it was.”

  “I’m sorry,” I grimaced sympathetically. “That must have been difficult.”

  He thought about it for a little while. “Dunno,” he said at last. “The place was drafty, and the nursery had mice and spiders in it. The hard part is all of us cramming into the London house. Quite a squash and a squeeze, with all the sisters. I’ve four of ’em, you know. All older.”

  “Good lord! And they’re mean to you? I thought older sisters usually doted on their little brothers.”

  He chuckled. “No, no, they don’t dote. You think they’d be fonder of me, though: t
hey love a good gossip, and I give them so much to work with!”

  Laura appeared in the doorway. “Freddie, you’re five and a half minutes late for your prelunch exercises.” She eyed the ledgers. “What’s all this?”

  “We’re doing business!” Freddie excitedly announced.

  Laura crooked an eyebrow. “Are you? Well, far be it from me to interfere. I’ll leave you to it. But you’re not getting off easy, Freddie. Tomorrow will be twice as hard.”

  He looked alarmed and I patted his hand. “Don’t worry—I’ll talk to her.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  After days of wrangling and puzzling over numbers, working out more sums than I had in my entire life up to that point, telephoning Raines four more times, and hovering nearby (glancing about nervously) while Freddie shouted down the telephone on a long-distance call to DuPont, it finally felt like we were getting somewhere. This marvelous new rubber could be supplied regularly and in large enough quantities to keep orders filled.

  “The smell is a problem,” the DuPont man apologized, “but we’re working on it.”

  “It’s for tires, my good man! No one expects them to smell like roses!” Freddie reassured him. “Maybe airplane tires. They’ll get aired out, won’t they? Ho ho!”

  Raines was already at work on his purge, and he reassured me that, yes, they could make airplane tires if they had to. Now we just needed to secure the order.

  “You seem happier these days, miss,” Reilly observed as I dressed for dinner.

  “I am, Reilly. Things are looking up!”

  She smiled briefly. She’d been subdued ever since Jeremy’s unsuccessful Portsmouth trip. I felt terrible for having even mentioned the possibility of a job for her brother, but now, I realized, I had a solution.

  “Reilly,” I said as she fussed with the hem of my dress. “Do you think your brother might adapt to factory work?”

  She looked up, puzzled. “I suppose so, miss, if he had to.” Her face turned hopeful. “Do you know of something?”

  “As it turns out, I happen to know of a rubber factory looking for new managers,” I answered. “Reliable men who are willing to work hard.” I guessed that five children and extended unemployment would be plenty of motivation for him to do an exemplary job.

 

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