‘You're pleased with them?’ Studying them critically now, for when Ellis's carriage had swept into the park earlier that day she'd had barely a chance to glance at them, she frowned. To her enormous relief, they looked right. More than right. They looked splendid. ‘Mr Darrow? You like what you see?’
‘Certainly. They're beautiful.’ Ellis wasn't even looking at the gates. ‘Miss Searle, will you step into the wood? It's beech, so the ground is quite open. There's no undergrowth, nothing to snag your gown.’
‘In that case, I should like it.’ For the first time that day, Rebecca looked straight at him. Her face glowed, her eyes sparkled. ‘I should enjoy it very much.’
The gates had been expertly fitted, but the carriage wheels had scuffed the gravel from the road into little ruts and heaps. As Ellis pushed, one gate stuck fast.
He shrugged. There was room enough. He stood aside to let his guest pass.
Women's clothes, however, take up far more space than men's. Gathering her skirts close about her, Rebecca tried to manoeuvre her way through. The hem of her gown caught on a wrought–iron spike. She stopped to free it — and Ellis, who'd followed rather too quickly, stumbled against her.
Her shoulder bumped against his chest. Fearing she might fall, he caught her elbow.
Both coloured. ‘I'm sorry.’ Still holding her, Ellis looked into her eyes. ‘I didn't mean to jostle you.’
‘You didn't.’ Rebecca was crimson now. Her hem was still impaled on the spike, so now she tugged again. ‘Mr Darrow, if you could step back a little — ’
‘Don't pull, you'll tear the material.’ Ellis let her go. Stooping down, he lifted the hem off the spike. ‘There,’ he said. ‘No damage at all.’
‘Thank you.’ Still blushing scarlet, Rebecca walked on. They went into the wood.
For a while, neither spoke. The wood was silent. Their light footsteps, crunching across a carpet of fallen leaves, were the only sounds to be heard.
Ellis felt light–headed. The desire to embrace her was overpowering. In the end, it was too much to bear. He took out his watch. ‘We should go back to the house now,’ he observed, wondering if his voice sounded as odd to her as it did to him. ‘I ordered dinner for half past two.’
Dinner could have been dry bread and water for all the notice the diners took. Both Ellis and Rebecca made a creditable pretence of eating, but neither actually consumed very much. Taking turns to start a sentence, they looked at each other, blushed, then dried up. They glanced out of the window. They sipped water. They looked at the food which was congealing on their plates. Their eyes would keep meeting. They would keep smiling at one another. Finally, Ellis stood up.
‘I'll show you the house,’ he said. ‘If you'd like to see it, that is.’
‘I would, very much.’ Rebecca smiled. The fact that she'd seen most of it already was of no consequence at all.
Simmons and the footman cleared away. Significantly, they grinned. But the cook, who had made a special effort, was disgusted.
At four, Rebecca went home. As he handed her into his carriage, Ellis wondered if he should offer to go with her. But he decided against it. Alone with her in the cosy intimacy of the carriage, he would have had to take her in his arms. To kiss her until she begged for mercy.
* * * *
That Sunday morning, he rode over to Birmingham. Picking his way along mean, Sabbath–quiet streets, he made for Searle's factory.
Finding the gate open, he went into the yard. He knocked on the door of the house, and was admitted by a shy, neatly–dressed maid. Shown into the front parlour, a little square room smelling sweetly of scented beeswax and new furnishing fabrics, he was asked to wait.
He looked around. From outside, the house looked just as disagreeable, as grimed, blackened and down–at–heel, as every other in this ugly neighbourhood. But it was very pleasant within. A lady's home, this room in particular was done up in very feminine taste. Papered in pink and cream, it was furnished with easy chairs and a fat, buttoned sofa, all comfortably upholstered in patterned chintz.
The overall effect was one of quiet, neat elegance. Of basically good, if uneducated, taste. Ellis smiled. But then, having glanced round once more, he let his mind wander.
He was not to know the house had not always been like this. Had he called there a year ago, he'd have found dark colours, heavy, functional furniture — a complete dearth of comfort, or decoration for decoration's sake. But since Jeremy Searle's death, Lyddy had refurbished her home. Now, it was almost light and airy.
The ill–used daughter had laid her father's ghost. She had literally swept it away. So here, no trace of the dour, Presbyterian blacksmith remained.
A rustle of silk, and the sound of the door being closed behind her, brought Ellis to his senses. ‘Mr Darrow?’ began Rebecca, sounding puzzled.
‘My dear Miss Searle.’ Ellis took her hands in his. ‘Forgive me for disturbing your Sunday. I need to talk to you, however. Most urgently.’
‘I see.’ Soberly dressed for a dull Nonconformist Sabbath, Rebecca's blush was more suited to a bright May morning. She pulled her hands free. ‘Well, Mr Darrow. If you would like to step into the office?’
‘No. I don't want to go to the office.’ Ellis thought for a moment. ‘Could we go for a walk, instead?’
‘A walk?’ The idea of wandering around Birmingham for pleasure was such a novelty that Rebecca stared. ‘Well,’ she said at last, ‘I suppose we might go along the canal bank. Not that it's particularly pleasant, you understand. This part of town is not the place for sightseeing.’
She gave him a faint smile. ‘For exercise, you see, we would normally drive out to the countryside. I don't think you'll find anything hereabouts to admire.’
‘That doesn't matter at all.’ Ellis returned her smile with interest. ‘Do you wish to bring your maid?’ he asked.
‘No. That won't be necessary.’ Rebecca looked down at her feet. ‘I must change my shoes,’ she said. ‘Then we can go.’
Walking along the dirty, dusty streets, watching where she put her feet for fear of treading in something unpleasant — for the pavements in that district were all strewn with rubbish, with great heaps of refuse simply left to rot or await whatever scavengers chance might prompt to pass that way — Rebecca kept her eyes fixed firmly on the ground. When Ellis offered her his arm, she took it. More, he suspected, for support than anything else.
Five minutes after setting out, they reached a branch of the canal. A dirty, polluted stretch of urban waterway, this particular little inlet was used to bring coke from the stockyards to the factories all about.
There was no bridge. ‘We'll have to turn back soon.’ Glancing up at her companion, Rebecca narrowed her eyes against the weak autumn sunshine. ‘There are only factories or furnaces along here. It's very dirty.’
‘Come just a little further.’ Since leaving Searle's yard, Ellis had not spoken. Now he covered Rebecca's hand with his. Leading her past another factory, they approached a large, gloomy, blind–walled warehouse. Coming to a high brick wall, they stopped.
The wall was that of a foundry. Still warm, for even on a Sunday the fires were never allowed to go out completely, it was comfortable to lean against. Here, surrounded by high, windowless buildings and screened from public view, Ellis finally took Rebecca in his arms.
To his surprise and delight, she did not resist him. After a minute or two, she even found her voice. ‘You wish to talk to me?’ she demanded. ‘You have something urgent to say?’
‘Yes, indeed.’ Ellis kissed her forehead. ‘But perhaps I don't need to use actual words. At any rate, not as such.’
‘I think you do.’ Looking up, Rebecca met his eyes. ‘You must say exactly what you mean. Then we'll understand each other, you see.’
‘Marry me.’ Ellis kissed her again. ‘I want you to marry me. Well, Rebecca? What do you say to that?’
‘I — I don't know what to say.’ Rebecca blushed. She had — and yet she hadn't
— expected anything like this. For, although the idea that Ellis might suggest she became his mistress had never even crossed her mind, she had not seriously expected him to propose marriage.
Now he was speaking again. ‘I shan't let you refuse me,’ he said. ‘I don't expect an answer straight away. But when you do decide, it must be in my favour.’
‘Must it?’ Still looking into his eyes, she shrugged. ‘I don't mean to tease you,’ she cried. ‘I would not torment you for the world! But I hardly know you. I — ’
‘You know me well enough. At any rate, you know what matters most. I love you.’ He touched her face. ‘I think that maybe — well, when I took your hand just now, you did not draw away. When I embraced you, you did not flinch. I think I know you well enough to be sure you would not let yourself be kissed by a man you did not like.’
‘Go on,’ she said.
He laughed. ‘You smile when you see me arrive. You frown when I depart. I don't think you are such a fine lady that your smiles are false, or your frowns mere pique. As for me — in your company, I am happier than I have ever been in my life. I consider us well suited. Don't you?’
Rebecca blushed redder. ‘I — I hope you don't think I've been forward,’ she stammered. ‘I never intended to flirt. Or to tease.’
‘I don't think you know how to flirt, let alone tease.’ Serious now, Ellis looked into Rebecca's eyes. He saw irises as blue as the cornflowers which could never grow in that dirty town. So it was that, surrounded by high brick walls, hemmed in by heaps of rubbish and industrial spoil, he took her face between his hands. He kissed her on the lips.
At first, she stiffened. Then, however, the first shock over, she relaxed. She let herself be kissed. She closed her eyes. Contentedly, she sighed.
But then, suddenly, she pulled away. ‘Oh, Ellis,’ she cried, in real distress. ‘This is terrible!’
‘Is it?’
‘Yes!’ She looked as if she might cry. ‘I'm a manufacturer!’ she wailed. ‘A respected member of the community! But I'm kissing a man in a public alley. Behaving like a woman of the streets!’
‘It's the Sabbath day, too. So the sin is magnified a hundred–fold.’ Ellis grinned. ‘Now, Rebecca. Say you'll be my wife.’
‘I'll say — ’
‘What?’
‘I may be your wife.’
‘I see.’ Ellis took her hands in his. ‘I shall give you — let me think — a week. But because you keep me in suspense, I shall impose a penalty. I shall kiss you again.’
Chapter 10
‘You've actually asked her to marry you?’ Well aware that her own future prosperity depended on her brother either marrying a rich idiot or dying a bachelor, Lalage stared in horrified disbelief. Her own children — for surely there'd be some, one day — must inherit the Easton estate! ‘You've proposed marriage?’ she repeated, aghast. ‘You can't have done.’
‘Well, I have.’ Ellis shrugged. ‘But I'll admit this here and now. I didn't expect either of you to be overjoyed.’
‘What did Miss Searle say?’ asked Alex.
‘That she would consider it.’
‘Consider it?’ Lalage snorted. ‘The assurance of the woman!’
‘What did you say?’
‘Nothing, Ellis. Nothing at all.’ Recovering her composure, Lalage walked over to the sofa on which her brother sat. She flopped down beside him. ‘She's a Dissenter, isn't she?’ she asked.
‘I believe so.’ Ellis shrugged again. ‘What of it?’
‘Well, there you have it. That explains everything.’ Turning to Alex, Lalage grinned. ‘Poor Ellis,’ she murmured. ‘He had to propose. There was no other way to get her into bed.’
Alex swallowed hard. Glancing towards Ellis, he saw an earlier flush had now been replaced by a livid pallor. ‘Lally, darling,’ he began, ‘I really think it's time — ’
But Lalage ignored him. Reaching for her brother's hand, she took it in her own. ‘Won't she let you touch her, then?’ she cooed. ‘Do you have to pay even to look? What's the rate of exchange?’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘You order a new fender. She allows you to glimpse her ankle. You buy a kitchen range. She leaves off her neckerchief for the day. But she won't actually lift her skirts until you promise — ’
‘It's time we went.’ Alex stood up. ‘It's late, and I'm sure Ellis is tired.’
‘How should he be? He's done nothing tiring. Yet.’ Lalage laughed. ‘My dear Ellis, I'll confess it now — I know very little of trade. But I imagine women of that kind can readily be bought. What's the going rate? A hundred? A thousand? How much have you offered her so far?’
‘Be quiet.’ Ellis's eyes flashed dangerously. He snatched his hand away. Folding his arms, he glared at the wall.
‘Oh, Ellis!’ Lalage pouted. ‘Can't you take a joke? I was only teasing.’
Ellis said nothing.
Suddenly, Lalage was afraid. A horrible suspicion crossed her mind. She had to know now. ‘Ellis?’
‘What?’
‘You haven't done anything rash, I hope? You haven't got her with child?’
‘What did you say?’ Whipping round, Ellis grabbed his sister by the shoulders. He shook her like a doll, his fingers digging into her flesh. ‘Listen to me, Lalage!’ he cried. ‘Listen well! If you make any more insinuations like that, I shall hit you! Do you understand me? I shall take my whip to you, and thrash you so hard you'll faint!’
‘You wouldn't dare!’ Lalage glared back at him. ‘Alex wouldn't let you.’
‘Alex couldn't stop me.’ Ellis jumped to his feet. He strode out of the room. The door slammed behind him.
‘Well!’ Shrugging, Lalage rubbed her hot face. ‘Whatever did I say, to deserve all that?’
‘Nothing, dear.’ Taking his wife's hand. Alex chafed it. ‘Nothing at all. Don't fret about Ellis. He's so wound up today, he takes everything amiss.’
‘All the same, I only — ’
‘I expect you hit home rather, that's all.’ Alex rubbed his eyes. ‘Perhaps Miss Searle's hanging on to her virtue. If Ellis wants her, he'll be taking that hard. He's not the kind of man to endure being denied.’
‘That's hardly any fault of mine.’
‘No. But don't annoy him.’ Alex stared out of the window. ‘Don't tease him. It'll only make him angry. More determined. If the creature holds out on him much longer, he'll tire of her. Or, he might do as he threatened.’
‘Marry her?’ Lalage gaped. ‘He wouldn't. Would he?’
‘He might, Lally. He just might. So be careful.’
For the rest of that evening, Ellis made himself scarce. His sister exercised her wit at will, guessing he was probably wandering through the moonlit woods, sighing to himself and carving Rebecca's name on every tree.
Alex told her not to be ridiculous. ‘He's gone to his study,’ he said. ‘He's working on the design of some cottages. Homes for those peasants, who'll be seen off the next bit of common he means to enclose.’
Derisively, Alex sniffed. ‘He's ever the model landlord. Even when he's in love.’
‘So it would appear.’ Lalage shrugged. ‘Shall we ring for supper?'’
‘I'm not hungry. I think I'll go to bed.’
‘Shall I come with you?’
‘If you're tired.’ Alex yawned. ‘I don't mind either way.’
Lalage had nothing else to do. So she followed him upstairs to her own old room, which she and Alex always used when staying at Easton Hall.
Closing the door behind her, she sat Alex down on the bed. Unfastening his cuffs, undoing his buttons, she undressed him. It was as if he were a child and she his nurse.
It had been like this for weeks now. Each evening, Alex let Lalage undress him, then slip his nightshirt over his head. Getting into bed, he curled himself up like a hedgehog. He then went straight to sleep.
That night, Lalage did not ring for her maid. Throwing off her own clothes, she got into bed. ‘Alex?’ she whispered. ‘Alex!
Wake up.’
‘What?’ Alex stirred. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes. ‘I wasn't asleep,’ he muttered.
‘You were.’
‘No.’ Alex shook his head. He yawned. Then, seeing his wife was naked, he frowned. ‘Hadn't you better find your nightgown?’ he asked. ‘Or did Betty forget to pack it?’
Lalage scowled at him. ‘Listen to me,’ she said. ‘Alex, listen!’
‘What?’
‘We must have a child. A son. You mustn't hold back on me any more.’ For emphasis, she shook his shoulder, pinching through to the bone. ‘Don't deny it,’ she muttered, fiercely. ‘I know you don't want me pregnant. You'd hate me to be fat and bloated, like a sow. But if we had a son, Alex – think! He'd be Ellis's heir.’
Alex looked at her. Over the past few weeks, he'd taken her for granted, forgotten completely how lovely she was. ‘Oh, darling,’ he cried, ‘you don't want a baby!’
‘But I do.’ Lalage glared. ‘Alex, I do!’
‘You might die!’ Alex winced, as if in pain himself. ‘Oh, Lally! If you died, I'd die too.’
‘Of course I shan't die. Why should I?’
‘You're so small.’
‘Nonsense. There are a million women smaller than me. Some of them give birth every single year, and thrive on it.’ Taking his hand, Lalage stroked it. ‘Give me a child,’ she whispered. ‘Let's make a baby, tonight.’
‘We'll see.’ Alex kissed her. ‘We'll see.’
An hour later, Alex sat up. Lalage lay exhausted, satisfied at last.
He congratulated himself. It had been a near thing, but he had managed to come away just in time. Before a single seed was spilled.
‘Do you suppose he's told her?’ Wide awake now, Alex lit a candle. He looked at Lalage. ‘Has he said anything, do you think?’
‘About the money, you mean?’ Lalage tied the ribbons on her nightgown. She frowned. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I'm sure he hasn't. He's not even sure she's the right person. Not absolutely certain, that is.’
‘Oh.’ Alex was unconvinced. ‘All the same — ’
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