‘Henry, on the other hand, is a respectable, prominent businessman in town. He owns a fine house where he lovingly cares for his widowed mother. Now who do you imagine they are most likely to believe? Forget it, Jack. It’s simpler to say nothing and let it pass.’
Josiah was suffering more than Livia might have appreciated. He sat in his office at the back of the store with his head in his hands, not knowing which way to turn. Both the bank and Hodson were pressing him harder than ever, his choices reduced to either allowing the one to foreclose or the other to take him over lock, stock and barrel. And all because of a lack of a bit of ready cash, some liquid funds to buy himself out of a hole.
All he needed was sufficient money to pay off the mortgage and overdraft at the bank, plus the extra loan he’d foolishly taken out with Hodson. Why was that so difficult?
Falling into Henry’s grasping, greedy hands had obviously been his undoing.
At two o’clock that afternoon, precisely on time, as promised, Henry called in to remind him that his patience was running thin. Josiah bluffed and blustered, insisting he needed more time, that he fully expected trade to pick up, and for his circumstances to improve.
‘I’ve recently been asked to stand for Parliament, for God’s sake,’ he bawled, pointing out that he was a man of stature in the town, a man who was going places. ‘I feel sure I’ll be put forward for a knighthood next. I think you really should appreciate how very important I am.’
Henry merely smirked, then added insult to injury by calling him a has-been, a yesterday’s man, with no future of any consequence, so far as he could see.
Josiah was outraged by this evident lack of respect from the younger man, and instantly went on the attack. ‘How dare you speak to me in this manner, after all I’ve done for you? I’ve entertained you in my home, allowed you to court my daughter, acted like a father to you, for God’s sake. I cannot believe you allowed her to get away! Why didn’t you finish the job while you had the chance? Does red blood run in your veins, or only milk and water?’
This was not the first time Josiah had taken Henry to task over his failure to actually carry through his intentions and finish what he’d started with Livia. As on previous occasions, Henry refused to rise to the bait. He calmly placed his final demand on Josiah’s desk, and clearly stated his terms.
‘No bride, no further extension on the loan. I’ll take the business instead, Josiah, and make more of it than you ever could. You have till the end of the year, two months from now, to vacate the premises, that’s if the bank don’t get you first.’
It was as simple as that.
As Hodson walked away, a decided swagger to his step, Josiah could barely contain his anger. He was incandescent with rage. Unwilling to resort to fisticuffs, since he’d be sure to lose, he instead took out his ire by sweeping everything off his desk in a fit of temper. He sent his letter tray, blotter, pens and pen holder, papers and ledgers, hurtling to the floor. Even the tray of tea and biscuits that Miss Caraway had brought them now lay in pieces on the rug.
Who did the fellow think he was, imagining he could walk in and take control of a person’s life, his business, even his home, and all because he’d defaulted on a paltry debt! The man was a charlatan.
But losing his temper solved nothing, and Josiah had to admit he’d put his case with more bluster than logical argument. He’d never felt so beleaguered, as if his entire life were teetering on the brink of collapse. He was about to lose everything he’d ever worked for. A lifetime of effort lost. It was as if all his worldly goods had been put up for auction, about to be sold off to the highest bidder whether he liked it or not. And for the first time, Josiah knew he was not in control of his own destiny. Worse, he felt bone-weary, defeated by events.
Josiah was also furious to discover that Mercy had arrived back in Kendal, apparently fit and well and with a young man in tow, who, rumour had it, might or might not be her husband. He’d spotted the pair of them walking arm in arm along Highgate and had been quite unable to believe his own eyes. If that little brat started gabbing then the last precious bricks of his entire empire would fall about his ears. He’d be done for.
In stubborn defiance, and wishing to cock a snook at the bank, Hodson, and his recalcitrant daughters, the whole flaming lot of them, Josiah issued a further eviction notice, this time not just to the Flint family, but to every single occupant in Angel Buildings. He gave them the same terms that Henry had offered him. They had until Christmas to pay the new higher rent or get out. If he was going down, then he might as well take as many people as possible down with him.
The second eviction notice arrived later that same day, care of the weaselly little rent collector. Livia took it straight round to Mr Blamire, the family solicitor, her temper high as she slammed it down on his desk. ‘My father has no right to do this.’
The solicitor considered the notice with ponderous care. ‘I’m afraid he does, my dear.’
‘No, I won’t have it. Make him stop.’
The old solicitor sighed. ‘I’ll do my best, but he is within his rights to do as he pleases with his own property.’
The man had been their family lawyer for as long as Livia could remember, and always dealt with Josiah’s affairs. Now she begged him to persuade her father to allow Jessie and her friends more time to find alternative accommodation. To be fair, the man looked as if he’d had no prior notice of the eviction notice, and confessed that he had no personal knowledge of Mr Angel’s intentions with regard to the buildings he owned on Fellside.
Livia was adamant. ‘Whatever his intentions, he cannot be allowed to treat people in such a draconian fashion. I beg you to help.’
Perhaps it was because he’d always been entranced by those gentian eyes, that perfect heart-shaped face and golden hair, or that he could still remember Livia as a small child smiling sweetly and thanking him politely for the mint humbug he would give her as she sat patiently waiting for her father to conduct his business. Whatever the reason, the old solicitor agreed to look into the matter for her, and naturally he wouldn’t dream of charging her a penny. Hadn’t he been the Angel family solicitor since time immemorial? Livia thanked him warmly, and was at last able to take her friends some real hope.
As a precaution, Livia went along to the town hall to ask about rooms to rent, and to the newly built Carnegie Library in case they too might have details of likely accommodation for the Flint family. Neither could offer any help other than the workhouse. Even the vicar had no useful suggestions to make beyond the obvious that she’d tried already, and Livia did not dare approach any of the charities in town over which the mayor held authority, since that would bring her into direct conflict with her father.
She was at least successful in helping them to launch their new business enterprise. Livia had sweet-talked Miss Caraway into buying some of Jessie’s hand-knitted sweaters, which seemed to be selling modestly well in the sports department. These were thick and warm and popular with walkers. It wasn’t enough, of course, as the profit on each garment was low, but it was a start. But they desperately needed to cut the cost of the basic material, the price of the raw wool still rising thanks to Henry’s meanness.
‘We need to buy direct from a farmer,’ George suggested. He and Mercy were also helping with the knitting, George more in the way of fetching and carrying, although he seemed quite handy on the loom. They were still desperately seeking a room of their own to rent, one that wasn’t running with damp or infested with cockroaches and vermin. Not an easy task, even in affluent Kendal, at the kind of rent they could afford to pay.
Livia thought this a good idea. ‘Ella is coming on Friday afternoon, and staying over until Saturday. Did I mention it?’
‘Only twenty times,’ laughed Jessie.
‘We could ask Amos. He might know of someone with good wool to sell.’
Livia was encouraging them to use a finer wool to knit fashionable cardigans and woollen jackets, and expressed a wish to one
day see them invest in a knitting machine.
‘Woollens will always be in fashion and there’s absolutely no reason why you shouldn’t build yourselves a good little business in time, Jessie. Maybe enough work for Mercy and George too, in due course. Let’s hope the solicitor can keep Henry and my father off your backs. But we really must start looking for other outlets. Being dependent upon my father’s store is not a good idea. If he ever found out that Miss Caraway was buying goods from us, he’d put a stop to it at once. I might cycle over to Windermere or Ambleside, and ask around the shops there.’
‘That’s a fair ride,’ Jessie warned, looking concerned. ‘Particularly with winter coming on. I don’t reckon that’d be wise, not a woman on her own, on a bicycle.’
Livia frowned. ‘Oh, if only we had better transport, which we’ll need anyway for deliveries so far away. How I wish I had the wherewithal to help you all properly. I’d ask for a loan at the bank, except they’d be sure to tell Father.’
‘You’ve done enough; we’ll cope fine on us own,’ Jessie told her, busily directing her older children in the art of cable stitch.
Sadly, Jack was less appreciative of her efforts. He was barely speaking to Livia these days, let alone cooperating with her on the new venture. Since being dismissed by Hodson, he’d found himself a job labouring on the same building site where George was working. Not at all what he wanted to do, but the best he could manage in the circumstances. Hodson seemed to have blacklisted him not only from his own hosiery factory but from those of his competitors as well.
Today, he listened to the conversation between Livia and his mother in silence, then caustically remarked, ‘I can understand why you don’t fear ending up in the workhouse. Obviously the threat of dire poverty wouldn’t include you, one of the precious Angel girls. If things got really bad, you could simply swallow your pride and return home to your fine house at the top of the town. Or dear Henry might finally get his wish and you would agree to marry him after all.’
‘Stop it, Jack. Why are you behaving like this? I hate it when you’re being deliberately cruel.’
He got to his feet, overwhelming the small loft suddenly with his glowering presence. ‘Then have the bloody man arrested, Livia! Prove to me that the girl I fell in love with still exists.’
‘I – I can’t.’
‘You mean you won’t! I believe you are in love with him after all.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’
Jack shook his head in disgust. ‘I never saw you as a snivelling coward,’ and turning on his heel, he walked out.
It near broke Livia’s heart for him to treat her with such cold disdain, as if he believed she’d deliberately welcomed Henry’s attentions. How could she convince him that charging Henry would only create greater problems for everyone?
Yet there was a doubt growing in her mind. What if Jack had a point? Was she indeed behaving like a snivelling coward? Was her reluctance to charge Henry with attempted rape really because she thought his word was more likely to be believed than her own? Or was it simply fear that held her back? Did she think there was a risk that Henry, or more likely her father, might possibly try to attack her again? What had happened to her ebullience, her confidence, her courage? Had her father and Henry together effectively destroyed her, after all?
If Jack wouldn’t help, and the family solicitor wasn’t even able to prevent the Flint family from being thrown out onto the streets, what more could she do? Time was running out.
Oh, but Ella would be here for a visit at the end of the week, Livia thought, with a spurt of optimism. Perhaps she would have some ideas to offer.
Chapter Thirty-Three
It was Friday afternoon and the two sisters were delighted to be together again and sat with their arms about each other in the County Hotel, enjoying afternoon tea and happily exchanging news. It was just the three of them, as Ella and Amos had left the children with their Aunt Molly in Staveley. It was just as well, as Ella became quite distraught when she heard what Livia had suffered with the attempted rape. She was soon in tears as she listened to the tale, despite Livia having cut the details to the bare minimum.
‘Look, I’m perfectly all right. He didn’t finish the deed, thank God.’
‘No, thank Jack for saving you.’
Livia bristled slightly. ‘Actually, I’d already clocked Henry one over the head with a plant pot by the time Jack came galloping in, so was well on the way to saving myself.’
‘Even so…’ Ella said. ‘It could have been much, much worse, had he not appeared just when he did.’
‘Love and lust can do terrible things to a man,’ Amos remarked, and they both turned to look at him, slightly startled by this quiet intervention.
‘Have you reported Henry to the police?’ Ella wanted to know. ‘You really should, even if he didn’t quite go through with it.’
‘Oh, don’t you start. Jack keeps on and on about that, but I’d really rather not involve them. He won’t try again, I’m quite certain of it.’ Livia instantly made the decision not to mention their father’s role in all of this, except perhaps quietly to Ella later when they were alone. Since Amos was a fervent Methodist, he might well start preaching to her about the need to honour her father, something which was quite beyond them both.
Instead, she briskly changed the subject and began to tell them all about their efforts to find more work for the hand-knitters of Fellside. Livia described the range of goods they were hoping to offer, the orders they’d received so far and the problems involved in finding a wider market. Amos seemed quite interested and asked several pertinent questions concerning the costs involved, and their supplier.
‘Ah, there’s the rub. Henry is our only supplier, and so far we have been unable to find a reliable alternative.’
Amos rubbed his chin in that thoughtful way he had. ‘I might be able to help you there. I know quite a few farmers who’d be only too happy to sell you wool direct. I could let you have a bundle or two meself.’
‘Really? Oh, but that would be wonderful.’
‘Have you somewhere to store it? A shed or summat? It’s best to buy it at clipping time, tha knows.’
‘Oh, dear!’ Livia shook her head, thinking hard. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. Until we get the accommodation problem resolved, perhaps the wool could be brought out a bundle at a time when the farmer in question was visiting Kendal market?’
Ella excitedly intervened at this point. ‘Oh, I’m sure we can work something out. We could store the wool in our barn, and bring it out as you need it. I could do that, couldn’t I, Amos?’
Amos looked at his wife, saying nothing. The details were finalised and they ordered a second pot of tea and buttered teacakes, to celebrate. When they were finally replete Livia offered to take them to meet Jessie and her brood.
As the two girls walked together arm in arm along Stricklandgate and up Allhallows Lane, Amos striding along ahead of them, Livia whispered, ‘Mercy will be there.’
‘Oh good, then I’ll meet her at last. What is she like?’
‘Spiky, still nursing some imagined resentment against us, and itching to take revenge on Father.’
‘If you and I don’t get to him first.’
Livia smiled wryly. ‘I’m trying to win her round, little by little. We can but hope.’ A short pause and then, ‘Does Amos know she’s our half-sister, and illegitimate?’
Ella flushed with embarrassment. ‘Um, I haven’t actually got around to explaining all of that yet. He can be very prissy about such things.’
‘I see.’ Another thoughtful frown. ‘Don’t you think it would be advisable to tell him? It doesn’t seem quite right to have secrets between husband and wife. And he is part of our family now.’
‘You’re probably right, but it won’t be easy. He’ll feel duty bound to issue a lecture, and it won’t help relations between himself and Father, although they’ve always got on surprisingly well. I’ll wait till he’s in a mellow mood, then I’l
l try telling him.’
‘Good girl! We’d best keep off the subject today then, if we can.’
This presented no problem as Mercy kept remarkably silent while Jessie happily demonstrated and displayed her work to the visitors, making them all welcome even as she apologised for the humble nature of their home.
Livia hugged the older woman and told her the loft looked as clean as a new pin, and to stop fussing. Indeed it was evident that Jessie had taken considerable trouble to clear the straw pallets away into a neat stack, had scrubbed the floor and with no night soil bucket on view and the narrow window open to catch the breeze, the air was almost sweet, apart from the usual fog of lint which nothing would cure.
Amos seemed oblivious to the poverty of his surroundings and was getting on famously with Jessie. He was interested in comparing her loom with his own back at the farm, discussing the intricacies of the weave, and whether or not she used the jacquard pattern. He admired the finished woollen goods, and the knitting in progress. Livia excitedly butted in to explain about Amos’s offer to help supply raw wool, and they all began to discuss at some length the various benefits of short or long staple, Herdwick, Swaledale or Masham, and whether they’d be interested in investing in knitting machines one day.
Amos seemed appreciative of the happy hum of work among the older children, but couldn’t resist expressing concern that perhaps the younger ones should have been in school.
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