‘I guessed as much. You don’t need to stay. I can manage.’
The lad looked so crestfallen at the dismissal, Charlie relented. ‘Brush my claret-coloured coat and then iron my cravat, if you wouldn’t mind.’
The lad touched his forelock. ‘Reet gladly, my lord.’
In less than an hour, Charlie was hunching his shoulders against a wind stronger than the previous evening and holding fast to his hat brim. The drifting snow came close to the top of his boots as he slogged down a hill to the stables. Set around three sides of a square courtyard, the building offered welcome shelter from the gale. He entered through the first door he came to and almost bumped into a fellow coming out. Not a groom. Of course not. It was Miss Draycott in a man’s low-crowned hat and her mannish driving coat.
Charlie raised his hat and smiled. ‘Good morning. I didn’t expect to see you up and about at this early hour.’
After the startled look faded from her expression, she frowned. Not pleased to see him. ‘I didn’t think London dandies rose from their bed before noon.’
‘Mr Brummell has given us all a very bad reputation,’ Charlie said mournfully. He knocked the snow off his boots against the door frame. ‘I came to see how the horses were doing.’ No sense in alarming her, when he had nothing but vague suspicions.
‘Don’t you trust my servants to take proper care of your animals, my lord?’
My, her temper was ill today. ‘If I didn’t trust your servants, Miss Draycott, I would have come out here last night.’
She acknowledged the hit with a slight nod.
‘I also wondered about your team. How is that foreleg?’
Her shoulders slumped. ‘Not good. Jed poulticed it, but it is badly swollen.’
‘Do you mind if I look?’
‘Not at all.’ She sounded quite doubtful. Probably thought he wouldn’t know one end of the beast from the other. Nor would he indicate otherwise. The fact that he liked working with horses was no one’s business but his own.
They walked along the stable block. A single row of stalls built along each back wall, nice drainage, fresh straw and a surprising number of mounts, both riding and draught. He nodded his approval.
The carriage horses were in the middle block. The wrinkled wizened man who’d met them with the lantern the previous evening stood leaning on a broom, watching the injured horse eat.
‘Jed, this is Lord Tonbridge,’ Merry said.
He knuckled his forehead. ‘Aah. Yours are reet fine animals, yer lordship. Two stalls down they are.’
‘Thank you. Miss Draycott is concerned about this one. May I see?’
The old fellow ran a knowing eye down his person. ‘Well, if you don’t mind mucking in the midden, you’re reet welcome.’
Charlie inched in beside the horse and sank down on his haunches. The groom had packed a mixture of warm mash and liniment around the injured foreleg. ‘How bad do you think it is?’
‘No more’n a strain, I reckon.’
‘He got hooked up in the traces,’ Miss Draycott said. ‘I hope he didn’t do any permanent damage.’
So, she’d followed him back. That was going to make his questioning of the head groom difficult.
‘Have you tried packing it with snow?’ Charlie asked.
Jed scratched at the grey stubble on his chin. ‘Never heard of that for a strain.’
Charlie grinned. ‘Nor I. My groom discovered it takes the swelling down faster than warm mash, if you want to try it. Little else to be done apart from plenty of rest.’
‘It wouldn’t hurt to try, would it, Jed?’ Merry said quietly. ‘I feel so badly. Not once in my life have I ever injured one of my horses.’
She sounded dreadfully guilty. Charlie wanted to put an arm around her shoulders and offer her comfort, then press her up against the stable wall and offer a bit more than that, she looked so starkly beautiful with her hair tucked up under her ridiculous hat.
”T’was my fault,’ Jed said. ‘I should have seen somat were up wi’carriage. I should never have let you drive alone.’
‘No, you should not,’ Charlie said. ‘The carriage could have turned over. The horse’s legs might have been broken rather than strained. Not to mention Miss Draycott’s safety.’
The groom’s wrinkled face looked grim. ‘Aye.’
‘It was not Jed’s fault,’ Miss Draycott said. ‘And it is beside the point. That poor creature is in pain.’
‘Nowt to worry your head about, missy.’
‘I’ll check again later,’ she said, rubbing her upper arms.
He hadn’t thought her so sentimental a woman. Yet on their drive she had kept turning back to look at the injured beast. Perhaps, beneath her hard brittle shell, she’d a soft centre. Hopefully, the head groom wouldn’t let her rampage around the countryside alone in future. He’d have a word with him in private. Later. When Merry left.
‘You’d be better off staying warm by the fire,’ the groom said.
‘I’ll take a look at my cattle while I’m here, Jed.’
‘Sixteen mile an hour tits, I’m thinkin’, my lord,’ Jed said.
‘On a smooth road downhill.’ Charlie patted the injured horse’s rump and exited the stall. He exited further along the stable block.
‘I was going too fast,’ Merry said, following him. ‘I was angry and hurrying because of the weather. I must have hit a rut.’
He’d seen no signs of a rut large enough to damage an axle. ‘Fretting won’t change it.’
Her chin quivered. ‘No. It won’t. But that horse is in pain. I can see it in his eyes.’
Charlie didn’t quite know what to say, so said nothing. He strode along the block until he found his team. They huffed a greeting. He spent a moment or two going over their hooves and their limbs. Someone had brushed them and their brown coats shone.
‘You have a good man in Jed,’ he said.
‘He worked for my grandfather.’ She spoke as if the words answered all.
They walked side by side along the alley in front of the stalls.
‘It seems you are to be burdened by my company for a while longer,’ he said.
‘It is no burden,’ she said absently as if she had something else on her mind. ‘It won’t be the first time we are snowed in for a few days.’
‘Thank you for your hospitality.’
His voice must have sounded just a little dry, because her head turned, her eyes meeting his gaze.
She gave a rueful smile. ‘Did I sound dreadfully rude? I apologise. I meant to say that it will be an honour to have you stay as long as you wish.’
Somehow he preferred the earlier offhand invitation to this lavish courtesy, because the first was pure Merry and the second pro forma.
‘You must allow me to perform some service for you while I am here,’ he said just a little mischievously, thinking to test the waters.
Her eyes widened just a fraction as she considered his words. ‘What might you have in mind?’
He grinned, and the sparks were once more hovering in the air. Attraction and interest. Not the searing fire of the previous evening, but it wouldn’t take much to set it ablaze.
‘How about a sleigh ride?’ He pointed to the equipage stored behind her phaeton.
‘In this weather?’ She glanced out into the courtyard.
‘When it clears.’
‘All right.’
He hesitated. ‘Merry, I conversed with some unusual young women this morning. In my chamber.’
She frowned. And then gasped. ‘Beth and Jane.’
‘I didn’t get their names. However, they seemed very…obliging.’
‘They didn’t…’ She covered her mouth with her hand.
His lips wanted to smile. He held them in check. ‘No. They didn’t.’ But they would have, and she knew it.
‘Oh. Oh, dear. I must apologise. They are…housemaids in training. I should have told them to leave your room to Brian.’
Housemaids in training. A new
twist on an old profession. She must have seen the disbelief in his face. ‘I will speak to them,’ she said stiffly. ‘And if the weather breaks, we will go for a sleigh ride. In the meantime, I have some business affairs needing attention.’
He imagined she did—but which business?
‘In the meantime,’ she said breathlessly, ‘please make free of the library where you will find books and a nice warm fire.’
They stood in the doorway, looking out at the world turned into a white desert, the house barely visible in a sudden flurry of snow. He inhaled. She was right, snow did have a scent all of its own. Why had he never noticed?
He took off his muffler and wrapped it around her neck and up over her mouth and nose. ‘Then at least let me escort you safely back to the house.’
Over the top of the scarf laughter spilled from her blue eyes. She looked like some Far Eastern princess, saucily peeping out from behind a veil. Or she would, if not for the manly driving coat and the man’s felt hat.
He grabbed her hand, tucked it beneath his arm and they began the trek up the hill. He liked the feel of her leaning on him for support. She wasn’t a fragile flower of a woman, but there was absolutely no denying her femininity.
And today she was acting with the propriety of a duchess. He had the strong urge to unravel the puzzle he’d found. And part of that was learning who might want to cause her harm.
He barely noticed the icy fingers of wind tearing at his coat, or the snow cold and wet on his face, because for the first time in a long time he was doing exactly as he pleased.
Chapter Five
Merry hurried along the corridor. She knew why she was hurrying. It had nothing to do with talking to the women and everything to do with escape. From him.
Not because she was attracted to him, because that part she could handle. Indeed, it was rather pleasant being looked at with desire. But it was the other part that caused her unease. Every now and then, when he looked at her with those intense dark eyes, she had the feeling he could see her innermost thoughts, whereas he seemed to hold himself very much at a distance because he really didn’t approve.
The sooner he was gone the better.
She pulled the key from her pocket and unlocked the door to what had once been the nursery. Voices from an open door let her know where she would find Caro and her charges. She entered the day room. Caro faced the two women sitting at desks along with Thomas, Caro’s six-year-old son, writing his letters on a slate. The women each held a book. Beth was reading, slowly sounding out the words. She stopped the moment Merry entered.
Looking at the two women, one would never guess their original profession. Their faces shone with good health and cleanliness. They wore the modest practical clothing of the women who worked at the mills.
‘Good morning, ladies,’ Merry said smiling.
‘Good morning, Miss Draycott,’ they chorused.
‘Good morning,’ Caroline said. Her gaze held curiosity. Wondering about last night, no doubt.
‘If I could have your attention,’ Merry said, to the room at large. ‘Because of the snow, we have a guest at Draycott House. I gather you ladies met him this morning. I think it would be best if you remained in this wing until his departure.’
Beth giggled.
Jane frowned. ‘Ashamed of us, then, are you? Is that how it’s to be?’
Heat stung Merry’s cheeks. Jane was not the easiest woman to deal with, despite the fact that she’d sought out Caro’s help on her own account. Jane had come north from London and was far more worldly than Beth, or the other girls they had rescued. And she’d appointed herself as their leader. The other girls had fled after the fire—Jane and Beth were all that were left of the soiled doves they’d been trying to help.
‘I am not ashamed,’ Merry said firmly. ‘It is for your protection. I don’t know this gentleman very well and I do not want any misunderstanding.’
Jane curled her lips. ‘She wants to keep him all to herself, that’s what it is.’
‘Enough, Jane,’ Caro said.
Jane sniffed. ‘I don’t care about no fancy man. What I wants to know is when do we get a proper job, instead of cleaning your grates?’
In other words, was her meeting successful? The townspeople had called the house in town Draycott’s whorehouse and had thrown bricks and stones through the windows. Finally a torch had been thrown, starting a fire and forcing them to flee. The meeting yesterday had been supposed to bring the other mill owners over to her side.
The two women looked at her hopefully. ‘It’s bloody awful here,’ Jane said. ‘No shops. Nought to do ‘cept readin’.’
‘I like it,’ Beth said stoutly. She’d grown up in the country. Most of the other girls they’d rescued were town girls, daughters of shopkeepers and millworkers who had taken a wrong turn and been cast out on to the streets to make their way as best they could. All had turned to the oldest profession known to women.
When Caro, who had narrowly missed turning to the same calling out of desperation, had proposed Merry use her money and her influence to help some of these women, Merry had readily agreed. She hadn’t expected the resentment of the community. They seemed to believe the presence of these women would taint them and their families.
They’d driven the girls off.
She glanced over at Caro, who looked sad, but offered a supporting smile. ‘I wasn’t able to meet with them yesterday.’
Jane’s mouth turned sullen. ‘Too busy enjoying yerself with yer fancy man.’
‘He is a gentleman,’ Merry said. ‘He provided me assistance on the road and he will be leaving as soon as the snow is passable.’
‘Gentlemen are the best,’ Beth said, as if repeating a lesson by rote. ‘They’s polite and don’t have no pox.’
”Course they do,’ Jane said.
Caroline rapped on her desk with her ruler. ‘Ladies, please. This kind of talk is not helpful.’ She glanced at Thomas, who had stopped writing and was listening with a furrow between his fair brows. ‘Miss Draycott will find you work and a place to live as soon as she is able. In the meantime, you are being paid to learn to read and write.’
A groan from Beth made Merry smile.
None of the girls had found the concept of reading and writing particularly relevant. Only by offering them a wage had she been able to convince them to try when they’d moved into the house in Skepton. They’d been making great strides until forced to run for their lives. Caro insisted these two continue while they stayed with Merry. If nothing else, they would be able to read a newspaper and their employment contract before they signed it.
If they could find jobs.
‘What about the grocer’s in the High Street?’ Beth asked. Her father had owned a shop, but when he found out she was pregnant, he’d turned her out. The boy had run away to sea and left her to fend for herself. If she couldn’t support herself respectably, she would never get her child back from the orphanage. ‘He’s got a sign in the winder for a shop assistant.’
No one in Skepton seemed willing to risk employing Draycott’s whores, no matter how clean they were or how well behaved. The townspeople claimed they would be a bad influence on the men as well as the women.
Merry pressed her lips together. ‘I told him of your experience, but he said he’d changed his mind.’ She’d even threatened to stop purchasing from him, but then he told her his fear of the mob tearing his shop apart. What could she say?
Jane’s lip curled. ‘See. I told you it was all a farradiddle.’
‘They think we’ll steal them blind,’ Beth said.
It was an outbreak of burglaries that had turned the townspeople violent, even after Caro told the constable she could account for all her girls at the time of the crimes.
‘I’m leaving at the end of t’month,’ Jane said. ‘There’s good money to be made in London. Abbesses always looking for new blood. Once the weather breaks, I can walk there in a fortnight.’
‘How much does a girl ma
ke in Lunnon?’ Beth asked.
‘A fortune if you finds the right man,’ Jane said. ‘Dripping with jewels and furs, some of the girls are.’
Beth’s eyes grew round.
‘It is not quite like that,’ Caro said. ‘Very few girls meet that kind of man. And often they cast them off, the way they throw out old clothes.’
‘What would you know about it?’ Jane sneered.
Caroline coloured. ‘I have eyes.’
Merry didn’t care much for Jane. Gribble had found her slipping a silver teaspoon in her pocket. Caro had reminded her that she might have done the same, if she had been in Jane’s situation.
Damn it. If Merry didn’t do something soon, these two women would slip back into their old ways.
A feeling of inadequacy swamped her. Grandfather would have been able to deal with the mill owners and the shopkeepers. He wouldn’t have been locked out of the meeting.
Because he was a man.
If only Prentice would stand up to them.
As a manager, Prentice had very little clout. He could speak on her behalf, but even though he was the manager of the largest mill in Yorkshire, he wasn’t the owner.
The only way she would ever have a voice in those meetings was if she was married. And then that voice would go to her husband.
Which brought her right back to the mad idea she’d had this morning—and rejected before it was fully formed. How she could have let such an idea creep into her mind, she didn’t know.
‘I’ll find a way to bring them around,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry.’ But how?
Merry squeezed her eyes shut, then looked at the document, forcing herself to read the figures again. The mill was in trouble.
How had it happened so quickly?
The door opened and Caro glided in as if she walked on air. Even on a good day, Merry galumphed around, as Grandfather always said.
But then Caro was as small and delicate as Merry was tall and big boned.
She smiled at her friend. ‘Lessons over?’
‘Yes. I’ve left them with some needlework. There are sheets in need of turning.’
More Than A Mistress Page 5