He soon discovered that Henry’s bookkeeping was a shambles, partly because he was being cheated by one of his staff.
Sensing retribution the employee escaped, leaving Michael to scramble back through a myriad of transactions to put the Company’s affairs straight.
At last he managed it all and put everything onto a steady footing.
Profits improved.
Henry wore a permanent smile.
Michael remained in the family home, paying Mrs. Sanson for his lodging and adding to his value by teaching mathematics to the three Sanson children.
This endeared him to their mother, who was keen on female education and was contemptuous of the ‘footling nonsense’ too often considered good enough for girls.
It was a great day when the third shop was opened. While the other two sold basic goods, this one appealed to those who were enjoying increasing wealth.
From the first moment it was a success.
Michael had found his new life and it was, in many ways, a contented one. He was busy, he knew himself to be useful and he had friends who cared for him. He told himself that he was a lucky man.
It was only sometimes, when he was alone, that he sat in the fading light and thought of another life – and the happiness that had almost been his.
Occasionally he would allow himself to think about Verna and envisage her lovely face smiling at him, sweet and full of love.
He would wonder where she was and what she was doing. Did she still remember him or did she love another?
Then he would draw a long shuddering breath and banish her image, unable to bear the pain of missing her.
At last he would open his eyes and look around at the new life that now seemed so satisfactory. He could see how little it really meant beside all he had lost.
And his heart would break.
*
Before she left the house Verna took a last look at herself in the mirror to ensure that she was neat and tidy.
Everything was in place.
Her riding habit was cut to perfection, her hat was perched atop her hair, scarf perfectly tied beneath her chin.
“You look beautiful,” he father told her warmly.
“Thank you, Papa,” she acknowledged dutifully.
In fact she was checking her appearance merely for propriety, not looks. It was only with Michael that she had cared about looking beautiful. But she did not say this to Papa, because it would have made him angry.
Six months had passed by since her life had ended with Michael’s departure.
Six long months when she had walked and talked, smiled and danced, presented a perfect face to the world.
Six months when there was nothing but emptiness inside her.
Would it never end? Would her life always be a lonely desert because the one man she could ever love had flown away?
Some parts of that fateful day lived vividly in her mind, whilst others were bathed in mist.
She vaguely remembered the journey home in the car, soothed by Anthony’s kindliness. She was shivering violently and he sat in the car holding her in his arms as a brother might have done.
What would she have done without him, she was wondering now. He had kept her safe until they reached her home and he had handed her to Winifred, saying that she had been overcome with faintness and promising that he would smooth everything over.
And he had done so.
When the rest of her family returned, she had lain in bed and heard Winifred talking to her father, refusing to let him in to disturb her.
“All she needs is rest, my Lord, and I’m going to see that she gets it,” she had firmly laid down the law.
Even Lord Challoner did not contend with Winifred when she was in a formidable mood.
“Then I will leave her with you,” he replied.
Mercifully he had gone away, leaving Verna to sob her heart out.
Michael had gone forever and she would never see him again.
After the first shock, she had been able to discount his cruel insistence that he did not love her.
Her heart knew him well enough to believe that he had spoken in this way from generous motives. It was his way of releasing her to go on with life and love again.
But for her to love again was quite impossible and he should have known that.
Next day Anthony had come calling. His manner was polite and reserved, courteous and considerate.
He desired only to enquire after her health and she had no hesitation in going riding with him. It was a relief to be away from the house.
At first she was cautious, remembering Michael’s rage against his brother, how he distrusted him and blamed him for daring to offer him the post of estate manager.
But Anthony was persistent in his self-reproach.
“I was searching for a suitable way of helping him. That was my only fault. But I was unforgivably clumsy. I should have thought how it would look to him. And you – what must you think of me?”
“You meant only to help,” she said softly. “None of us can imagine how things look to him now.”
There was comfort in his company. She could talk to him about Michael and he would listen for as long as she wanted.
They spent many hours riding together, sometimes galloping, sometimes cantering gently then stopping to sit quietly beside a stream and talk.
Verna constantly wanted to find out if Michael had sent a letter to his home, but there was always nothing.
“He doesn’t write to us,” Anthony told her with an air of sadness. “Not even to his dear sisters who he was so fond of. I keep hoping you can give us news of him.”
“I have had no letters,” she sighed. “Nothing. Not a word. He said our parting was forever and he meant it. Unless Papa – ”
She fell silent, unwilling to voice her fears that her father would intercept her letters, but she felt that Anthony would understand.
“We must both of us wait and hope,” he suggested.
They rode home to find Lord Challoner watching from a window. He greeted Anthony in a friendly spirit and invited him to stay for lunch. He accepted and spent the meal laughing and joking with the whole family.
Watching him, Verna felt safe. He seemed such a good friend.
She knew nothing of the brief meeting between her father and Anthony, just before he left the house.
“I don’t have to tell you how very pleased I am to see the friendship between you and Verna,” Lord Challoner observed quietly. “I hope it proceeds well.”
“It does, but I am forced to be patient,” Anthony murmured. “I beg you to say nothing to her prematurely.”
“Surely she must be over your brother by now,” he exclaimed.
“I’ll bide my time. To alert her to my thoughts too soon could frighten her away.”
“Then she is very foolish. You are the catch of the neighbourhood.”
“Not in every respect. I have the family fortune, but Michael has the title.”
“But you are the better man and that’s what I want for my daughter.”
Lord Challoner attempted a feeble joke,
“Perhaps Verna should be careful lest you switch your attention to one of her sisters!”
“Oh no,” Anthony said at once. “I shall not do that. My decision is made, but I am content to wait for hers.”
But Verna knew nothing of this plan.
She knew only that Anthony was gentle, kindly and always at her service.
When a near neighbour gave a huge ball in his great country house, she was reluctant to attend.
“If you stay away when the rest of your family goes, you will draw attention to yourself,” Anthony pointed out. “Surely you don’t wish to be the subject of gossip?”
“Oh no! How horrible!” Verna shuddered. “But to be stared at by all those people – ”
“Will you trust me to take care of you?” Anthony asked. “You know I am your friend.”
At the ball they danced together and people
said what a lovely couple they made.
Verna looked magnificent in a gown of blue satin, a diamond tiara on her head.
After that they danced together often and gradually she became aware that people were smiling at them in a significant manner.
They were perceived as a couple.
Now she blamed herself for not having thought of this possibility, but it was so plain to her that there could be no other man but Michael that she had assumed it was as plain to everyone else.
She wondered if Anthony had fallen into this error. Could he really be only the kindly brother he seemed?
She was thinking of this today as she checked her appearance in the hall mirror under the eyes of her father.
“You outshine all other women,” he told her. “I’m sure that Anthony thinks so.”
“Papa, please! It isn’t like that between Anthony and me. He is my good friend. He understands how I feel about – ”
“Come, come! That business was over long ago.”
“Not in here,” she insisted, laying her hand over her breast. “How can you know me so little?”
“But you cannot pine for one man forever!” Lord Challoner asserted. “You have your life ahead of you.”
“Or – behind me,” she added softly.
She went to meet Anthony with the determination to clear up any misunderstanding, but there was no need for her to speak.
He had tired of waiting and made her his proposal as soon as they were alone.
“No, please – ” she choked. “I never meant to mislead you – you know my feelings – ”
“I know about your love for my brother, but I had dared to hope that time might make you look on me with a more favourable eye. I do not ask you to love me as you loved him. I am content to be your devoted slave.”
“You deserve better, Anthony. You must have a woman who truly loves you for yourself.”
“But perhaps I could teach you to love me, Verna. Together we could embark on a long journey of discovery, taking us to the farthest reaches of love – ”
Before she knew what he meant to do, he had seized her in his arms and was kissing her passionately.
With all her strength Verna struggled free and gave him a resounding slap across the face.
“Never do that – again,” she screamed breathlessly.
“Oh, how mistaken in you I was! I love Michael and only Michael. There will never be another love for me. I would die for him. Now do you understand?”
His face turned pale, but he had control of himself. Anthony was not the man to lose sight of his object for the sake of a moment’s temper.
“Forgive me, Verna,” he asked her quietly. “I will escort you home.”
On the journey he did not displease her by reverting to the subject. He spoke of indifferent matters until they arrived and then he bade her good day and rode away.
At Belmont Park he was greeted by the news that his valet, Ratby, had returned after a week’s absence.
Ratby had begged for leave in order to get rid of his troublesome younger brother.
“I just want to be well rid of ’im, sir,” he had told Anthony, “and if ’e goes to America I can do that. But I ’ave to see ’im off on the ship meself. Then I’ll know ’e’s really gone.”
Anthony had shrugged and given consent.
Ratby was a most useful partner in crime with an awesome capacity for drink. It was worth giving him the odd indulgence to keep him content in his post.
“Satisfied now?” he asked his valet.
“I saw ’im sail, sir. And I saw somethin’ else that may interest you. There’s a new shop that’s just opened near the dock and you’ll never guess who I saw there.”
He told his tale.
Anthony listened with a cold hard look in his eyes and at last he said,
“Have you mentioned this to anyone else?”
“Nobody, sir.”
“Then don’t. Here’s what I want you to do.”
He outlined his plan as Ratby choked with mirth.
“It’ll be done, sir, just as you say,” he promised.
“Good. First thing tomorrow morning, Ratby, you return to Liverpool.”
*
From the window of his office Michael could see the ships entering and leaving the harbour and know that here, in Liverpool, he was living in one of the centres that made England hum with life.
He took care of the bookkeeping for all three shops, bought goods, served from behind the counter and had the satisfaction of seeing his work bear fruit.
He told himself he could make a success of this life.
He would keep Verna locked away into a separate corner of his mind, visiting her now and then and coping with the sadness.
Somehow he would manage.
And then something happened that shattered him.
Looking up one day, he saw a face he recognised.
“Ratby!” he exclaimed in dismay.
“My Lord!”
Ratby came forward with an expression of delight, and wrung Michael’s hand.
“Fancy seein’ you ’ere! We’ve all been wonderin’ where you be. Some of us’ve been wishin’ you’d come back ’ome.”
“I cannot come back, Ratby. This is my life now.”
“Ah, that’s a pity. If you’d returned – well, it’s not my place to say – ”
“Say what, Ratby?” Michael demanded, alarmed by something in the man’s manner. “What is it?”
“Well, like you said, my Lord, you have a new life now. I don’t know as ’ow anyone could make a difference for the poor young lady.”
“What the devil do you mean? Tell me!”
With every sign of reluctance, Ratby told his story.
As Michael had feared, it concerned Verna.
“She’ll end up by marryin’ ’im, my Lord. She says she won’t, but what with ’er father goin’ on at ’er and Mr. Anthony a-pesterin’ her – there’s nobody to take ’er side, you see, my Lord. She’s all on her own. Of course she’s a strong young lady and we all know who she really loves, if you’ll forgive the liberty, my Lord.”
Michael barely heard this last remark.
His mind was filled with nightmare visions of his beloved Verna being forcibly driven towards marriage with Anthony.
She really needed his help desperately and he was not there for her.
“Anthony – ” he murmured bitterly.
“Aye sir. I know I shouldn’t say this, but I knows ’im better than anyone and ’e’s a bad man. It would be different if ’e loved the young lady truly, but ’e doesn’t. ’E wants ’er ’cos she was yours, ‘e took everythin’ else from you and ’e’s determined to ’ave ’er as well. I’ve even ’eard him say so.”
White with shock, Michael stared at him.
He had somehow pictured Verna getting on with her life, missing him but surviving. Now he saw that he had abandoned her to persecution and he should have realised.
Ratby, watching his face, accurately judged every thought. Skilfully he tossed more embers onto the fire.
“When ’e’s got ’er into ’is power there’s to be no knowin’ ’ow ’e’ll treat ’er. As ’is wife she’ll be ’elpless. Oh, my Lord, why did you go away and abandon ’er?”
“I should never have gone,” cried Michael. “How could I do it? My poor Verna! How can I help her?”
“There’s only one way, my Lord. If you ’urry back now, you might rescue ’er.”
“Yes, yes” he agreed. “That’s what I must do.”
The door of the shop opened and Henry entered.
He was beaming, but his smile faded when he saw Michael’s face.
“Whatever has happened now, Michael? Have our suppliers let us down?”
“Forgive me, Henry, but I must go away for a few days. I cannot explain – but it is very urgent.”
Henry nodded kindly.
“Of course. I suppose I knew this would happen.”
“But you don�
�t know what has happened.”
“Not exactly, but I guess it’s something to do with your other existence, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. Believe me I hate letting you down, but I do really have to go.”
“Stay in touch and let me know what’s happening,” suggested Henry, taking pity on Michael’s ravaged face.
Michael thanked him profusely and hurried to pack.
In a few minutes he and Ratby were on their way to the railway station, where they were lucky enough to find a train leaving in half an hour.
During the long journey he asked Ratby some more questions, but did not learn very much more.
He sat back in his seat and closed his eyes.
His mind was seething.
Was it possible that his chance had come? Could he truly rescue Verna and carry her off, marry her and live happily ever after? True, it would be a life of poverty and he had vowed he could never condemn her to that.
But circumstances had changed. Verna was in dire need. Surely anything was better than abandoning her to his brother?
A bright vision rose before him as he journeyed on.
By the time they had reached Halton station it was almost midnight.
He realised that he could not go and see Verna now.
It would mean alerting the whole household and he wanted to snatch the first meeting in private.
He would go and see his brother first.
They took a cab from the station to the house and to his relief there were still lights on.
“Mr. Anthony often sits in the drawin’ room late,” offered Ratby. “I won’t come in, if you don’t mind – ’e’s going to be annoyed and I’d rather not be there.”
He jumped down from the carriage as it drew to a halt and slid away into the darkness.
Michael also climbed down, paid off the driver and stood considering. He did not want to draw any attention to himself.
After a while he began to walk quietly around the house in the darkness, until he saw light coming from the drawing room as the French windows had been left open.
For a while he stood still watching Anthony, who was leaning back on the sofa, his mouth open, snoring. He seemed to be in a drunken stupor.
Going quietly into the room, Michael stood before him, an expression of total contempt on his face.
When Anthony did not move, Michael turned away and began to study the room, which had altered since his day.
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