‘You must know yourself that land is at a premium,’ the clerk said. ‘There’s many a man here would murder to get his hands on some of the prime development pockets that’s being put up today.’ He scoured the milling crowd with narrowed eyes before shrugging his shoulders and bending to write out in meticulous copperplate the handsome figure that Tyler had quoted. ‘There’s no doubt you’ll be in the running, sir,’ he said, without raising his head. ‘This ’ere’s a very sensible sum, if you don’t mind me saying… a very sensible sum indeed.’
‘You think there’ll be none better, do you?’
The narrow-faced man straightened from his task. ‘Well now… let me see.’ He ran his astute eyes over the many faces that were gathered in that small timbered room. Then he made a sound that might have been a cough. ‘Well now,’ he repeated, looking directly at Tyler with a meaningful expression.
‘You’ll not find me ungrateful for useful information,’ he assured the fellow with a smile.
‘Ah.’ He sniffed, signifying satisfaction with Tyler’s answer. ‘Look there, sir.’ He gestured with his head to a balding gentleman in a long-tailed coat who carefully carried his top hat under his arm as though it was a precious parcel. ‘D’you see how he strolls about with a casual air?’ he asked. When Tyler nodded, he went on, ‘You musn’t be fooled by his disinterested expression, sir.’ That’s one of our local landowners. Part of his estate includes a grand house and considerable acreage out Langho way, and he runs four very lucrative cotton mills hereabouts. He goes by the name of Jules Barker. If you were to ask me, and of course, you have,’ he continued slyly, ‘I would say that Mr Barker was your main rival.’ He winked. ‘Some of it, or all of it. It don’t matter which to him, I reckon.’
‘You mean, the fellow wants to buy land in the South?’
‘Land is land, wherever it is, sir. Besides, there’s a greater shortage of it in the South than here, or so I’m told.’ Tyler nodded in agreement and so he continued, ‘See that gentleman there?’ He looked across the sea of top hats towards the far end of the room; Tyler followed his gaze. ‘That crooked old fellow by the rostrum is Luther Reynolds… a tyrant by anybody’s standards.’ He visibly shivered. ‘But I’ll tell you what, when it comes to business he’s a canny old scoundrel… never used to be, though. Oh, no. It were his son that changed him, so the story goes. His only son walked out some years back, and ever since it’s been like Luther Reynolds has been driven by the Devil!’
‘You think he’s a serious contender then?’
‘Without a doubt, sir. He goes after every property that comes available. Oh, he don’t always get it, mind, but he’s landed some very lucrative deals. One thing’s for sure… old Luther Reynolds wouldn’t be here today if he hadn’t set his sights on some… or maybe even all… of what’s going under the hammer here. Right old Scrooge he is an’ all. Thinks nothing of screwing the last farthing outta ordinary hard-working folk whose misfortune it is to reside in one of his run-down properties. But, you see, ordinary folk don’t get much choice in where they live. My own mother still inhabits a disgusting damp hovel down Larkhill.’
He eyed Tyler with curiosity, recalling the distinct London accent. ‘Being as you’re not from these parts, you wouldn’t be acquainted with the facts regarding Larkhill, now would you, sir? Larkhill being a street of back-to-backs, and one of that old fellow’s most infamous holdings.’ He paused only to draw breath before going on, ‘Burned down it did… almost the entire stretch of Larkhill on one side. Burned to the ground by a fire started in Maisie Armstrong’s place… had a lodger she did. The word was given out was that the young widder were a relative. Anyway, the fire took Maisie and two other good souls beside.’
His eyes misted over as it all came back. ‘Dreadful it were. Dreadful! The young lady who was staying with Maisie well, folks laid the blame at her door ’cause Maisie herself were a very careful woman, an’ no mistake. Of course, it didn’t help matters when the young widder upped and married the landlord’s stepson; although by all accounts old Luther Reynolds gives her a hard time… hates her he does, so they say, and that stepson of his… well, between you and me, sir, David Miller might have a good heart and a measure of sympathy for the tenants old Luther treats badly, but when it comes to backbone – well.’ He spread his hands. ‘He certainly weren’t blessed with much of that particular quality.
‘Still, there isn’t a soul on God’s earth who can tell Luther Reynolds what to do. He’s a cussed old bugger, if you don’t mind me saying. And I don’t mind telling you, it makes my blood boil, sir. Since the fire that devastated Larkhill, that canny old villain has wriggled out of every opportunity to put the street to rights. My own mother lives in fear of her very life, what with fire-ravaged timbers hanging loose in mid-air, and rats running free round the rubble. It’s nothing short of a nightmare for them that’s left in Larkhill, and that old scoundrel still demands four shilling a week rent. Can you imagine that, eh? Four shilling a week, and most poor working folk have only twenty shilling a week between themselves and the workhouse! But do you think anybody gives a cuss. No, they don’t!’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Tyler said with genuine concern. Certainly, the fellow’s story had aroused his curiosity in the surly faced old man by the rostrum. But now he was impatient to be away, for it was a long and tiring journey back to London, and he had various other things on his mind that had taken precedence over the proceedings here. All the same, he did not want to throw away the opportunity of acquiring at least some of the late Tobias Drew’s legacy. Taking the pen from the fellow’s hand, he spun the bid-docket round and quickly crossing out the figure written there, scribbled another, larger figure above it. ‘D’you think that will do it?’ he asked the startled fellow.
Glancing again at the docket, the fellow gasped. ‘If that don’t put you in good stead, sir, I don’t know what will.’ Realising that he might have been just a shade too friendly with this gent of consequence, he quickly reverted to his best business manner. ‘Now then, sir, you’ll need to state which lots you want the bids put forward on, and what way you want this sum to be proportioned.’ He pushed the docket forward for Tyler to enter his separate bids; no sum was mentioned out loud, for fear of eavesdroppers, and the docket was kept very close between them, with a queue now beginning to form behind. ‘Thank you very much, sir,’ he declared when Tyler returned the docket into his keeping. ‘Your bids will be properly put forward at the appropriate time.’ His smile broadened when Tyler slid a silver coin into his hand, this being speedily despatched to his waistcoat pocket before other eyes might catch the glint of it.
On his way out, Tyler was obliged to pass within a few inches of Luther Reynolds, who glowered at him when he had the effrontery to say politely, and with the secret hope that his own bid would at least put Reynolds out of the picture: ‘You’ll have to be sharp today, sir. It seems the whole of Lancashire has turned out for the event.’
The old man’s answer was a black look and the curt remark, ‘I don’t know you, nor do I want to, so kindly keep your observations to yourself.’
Reynolds was further irritated when Tyler smiled down on him and, making a sweeping gesture with his arm and with the parting remark, ‘Good day to you then,’ strode away without looking back. If he had lingered a moment longer, he might have made the acquaintance of the old man’s stepson, the same man who had also figured in the clerk’s account of Reynolds; the same man who had wed ‘the young woman from Larkhill’. And how great would Tyler’s astonishment have been if only he had known that the man he had missed by just one minute, was the same man who had wed his own lovely, tragic Beth.
Outside, the streets of Liverpool were bustling. Barrow-boys and costermongers were shouting the qualities of their wares; carts and beer-waggons were lazily trundling along; and some way down the street an old woman in a long black dress and shawl was setting out her many flowers for sale. Women in fancy hats strolled by with their handsome escorts
, and above it all, the sound of barrel-organ music floated on the warm July breeze.
Out in the fresh air once more, and feeling reluctant to return to the carriage where his companion was patiently waiting, Tyler paused on the steps, his gaze encompassing the busy scene. Some short way from where he stood, two elderly men with handlebar moustaches were deep in argument, one declaring: ‘If the motor vehicles are already running on French roads, why the devil do you say they’ll never find a place here in this country?’ The other gentleman, who was by far the more vehement of the two, replied stiffly: ‘Because there are people… such as myself… who would turn Heaven and earth to prevent it, that’s why. Motor vehicles indeed! There’s nothing wrong with the horse and carriage, and I for one will never put my trust in a contraption that spouts black smoke in its wake and goes at some God-awful speed, enough to frighten the life out of every decent citizen.’ The argument quickly moved on to other things, including the enviable life style of Oscar Wilde.
Smiling to himself, and wanting now to escape back to London where, given time, he might even enjoy the state of marriage and learn to live without regret, Tyler stepped down to the pavement. Almost at once, his attention was caught by a certain gentleman approaching at a rather hurried pace, his weasel-like face lifted high as he searched ahead, and his thick white hair shockingly conspicuous amid the dark top hats and extravagant bonnets around him. ‘Good God, it’s Reynolds!’ Tyler muttered, recognising the fellow at once as Esther Ward’s trusted clerk.
In that instant their eyes met, causing the smaller man to halt in his tracks as he stared at Tyler, his mind racing back to a certain conspiracy which he and the mistress had connived between them, designed not only to cost Tyler Blacklock the opportunity of acquiring work, but in addition to discredit him in Beth’s eyes. Tom Reynolds had eagerly entertained the idea that Beth might then turn to him, instead of which she disappeared. The mischievous scheme therefore had backfired to a certain extent. However, it had caused the perpetrators a considerable degree of satisfaction when Ben disclosed how Tyler believed his sweetheart to have married another. Both guilty parties were aware that Tyler would have searched the four corners of the earth if he had only known the truth.
The fact that Beth had been devastated by their malicious doings did not touch their consciences, even for a moment. Indeed, for different reasons, both derived their own particular satisfaction from her unhappy situation. In Tom Reynolds’ case, he was still smarting from her rejection of him, and was delighted that Tyler Blacklock had not succeeded where he himself had failed. Besides which, he had not entirely given up hope that Beth would eventually be forced by adverse circumstances to return to her father’s house. Much to Tom Reynolds’ surprise and frustration, up until now that had not happened.
But, in the time between, he was not too preoccupied with that, being much too concerned with more pressing matters, although Beth was never far from his mind. He had wondered at Esther’s motives for wanting Beth isolated from the family, although he long ago sensed the animosity between them.
He had long suspected there was much more to it all than what appeared on the surface, although he was never interested in what had sparked such dislike between the two women. It was a known fact that mothers and daughters were frequently at each other’s throats. Tom Reynolds had no way of knowing the truth.
There were others also who might never know the truth, including Beth’s brother Ben, and even Beth herself. Had Tom Reynolds been given just the slightest intimation of the dark secret in Esther’s heart, he would have had that impossibly proud woman at his mercy and lined his own pockets at her expense. As it was, she had always paid him handsomely for his troubles; but how much more satisfying it would have been if he could have added Beth to his ‘rewards’.
In the quietness of a lonely night, Tom Reynolds had often thought about Beth, dreamt vividly about her, and never a day went by when he didn’t toy with the idea of searching her out; but that would cost both money and time, and he was not a man to waste such precious commodities, certainly not in the pursuit of a mere woman, and definitely not in the pursuit of a woman who might turn up at any day, desperate for his help. He had hoped that Beth would show herself before now, and yes, he was bitterly disappointed that she had not. But he was a patient fellow, who doggedly believed his time would come. Looking on Tyler now, and with all the guilt of his own wickedness writhing through his mind, he thought for one awful moment that his ‘time’ had come in a way he had not envisaged.
In spite of his dislike for the fellow, Tyler was tempted to pass the time of day with Richard Ward’s clerk. He watched the slight figure come closer, a struggle going on inside him. He had never taken to Tom Reynolds, whom he considered to be a devious character, but Reynolds remained close to the Ward family, and all news of Beth must reach his ears. But then, Tyler reminded himself that he had already seen how content Beth was in the bosom of her family. What else could Tom Reynolds tell him that he did not already know? More importantly, did he really want to discuss his lovely Beth with the likes of Reynolds? Thinking it wiser to make a discreet exit, Tyler hurried to the waiting carriage, ordered the driver to make haste to the railway station, and prepared to climb inside. He was dismayed therefore to see the figure of the obnoxious Reynolds purposefully bearing down on him.
‘Mr Blacklock… Tyler Blacklock!’ Reynolds’ shrill voice called out above the hubbub and in a moment he was standing alongside the carriage and looking up at Tyler with a cunning smile, safe in the knowledge that the other man must know nothing of his own part in driving Beth out of his life, for if he had Tyler would have pulled him apart with his bare hands. ‘Surely you don’t intend going without passing the time of day with an old colleague?’ he asked boldly.
Nodding his head in recognition, Tyler simply said, ‘Forgive me, but we really are in a hurry.’
‘You don’t seem surprised that we meet some two hundred miles from home?’ Reynolds pointed out.
Looking towards the building he himself had just left, Tyler replied, ‘No. I’m not at all surprised. After all, we’re in the same line of business… obviously we read the same publications. No doubt, like myself and countless others, you will have seen the schedule referring to the late Tobias Drew’s land holdings.’
‘Ah!’ Reynolds nodded his head. Realisation dawned, causing the smile to slide from his pointed features. ‘Of course,’ he murmured. ‘How unperceptive of me. Of course, you’re here with the same purpose as myself… to beat off rival bids and go home with a deed or two tucked safely in your pocket.’ His mood was abruptly changed by the fact that he and Blacklock were here as rivals – although, all things considered, it was the most natural thing in the world. Indeed, he should have been more surprised if Blacklock were not at the sale.
‘Like I said, Reynolds, we are in the same line of business.’ Tyler was impatient to be gone. ‘But I wish you well,’ he added. ‘I assume you’re here on behalf of the Ward Company?’ It was no secret that the company had struggled to fend off trouble these past years and was now in very real danger of going under. But then, there were many companies in the same boat – some managed to stay afloat, and others went down without a fight. But Esther Ward was not a woman to go down without a battle, although there were those who rightly despised her and would willingly speed her on her way. And, if the company did fold, Tyler had no doubt that both Richard and Esther were wise enough not to lose everything they owned; that was, if they hadn’t been foolish enough to let their wayward son Ben get his hands on any reserve funds. As for Beth – well, she at least was financially secure in her marriage.
‘I do believe you mean that!’ remarked the other man with astonishment. ‘And, yes… I am here acting on behalf of Esther Ward.’
‘Please give the family my regards,’ Tyler told him. What he wanted to say was: ‘Is Beth really happy? Does she pine for me? Is Wilson Ryan the husband she had hoped he might be?’ But the questions remained in hi
s heart. Grabbing the jamb of the open door, he placed one foot on the step and prepared to swing himself into the carriage.
‘I’m surprised you mean to go without asking after Beth.’
The words stopped Tyler short. Turning round, he stood squarely facing the other man, his eyes dark with pain and so many questions on the tip of his tongue. When he spoke, the calmness of his voice belied the turmoil inside. ‘I saw Beth only the other day,’ he said. Unaware that his remark had come as a great shock to the little man, he went on, ‘I could see how content she was. But when next you meet, please give her my fondest regards.’ He wondered how he could be so calm when every nerve-ending in his body was screeching. He wanted to say, ‘Tell her I need her. She only has to say the word and I’ll follow her to the ends of the earth.’ Oh, but hadn’t he forgotten something… someone? Here in the carriage – the woman who was carrying his child, the woman he was pledged to marry. And hadn’t he forgotten how happily wed Beth was? Fool! When would he realise that it was over?
‘You… saw Beth?’ Tom Reynolds’ smile hid the fact that Tyler’s words had been like a blow to the stomach. Elizabeth Ward was here in Liverpool? ‘Was she alone? Did you speak to her?’
‘Sadly, no. Beth and her family were too soon lost in the crowd, but it pleased me to see how well she looked.’ He might have said ‘considering she was with child’, but the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he made a comment that was further from the truth than could ever have been imagined. ‘Seeing you just now, I thought perhaps you had all travelled North together, you and Esther with her family?’ He wondered whether Beth had grown closer to her mother over the years. Had he been one to gossip and socialise, he might perhaps have learned more, but he was by nature a loner. Besides, the Ward family also kept themselves to themselves and did not broadcast their business to all and sundry.
Don’t Cry Alone Page 34