Shine Like the Dawn

by Carrie Turansky

  Mrs. Burnell pursed her lips. “She won’t like it.”

  “She is no longer in a position to make those decisions.”

  Mrs. Burnell’s face flushed. “Yes, sir.”

  Nate didn’t want to upset the housekeeper or appear rude, but he was done with staff members bowing to Mrs. Harcourt’s whims. He softened his tone. “I am sorry for the confusion. Our guests arrived late last night, and I failed to make my wishes clear to Mrs. Harcourt. I’ll inform her—”

  “That’s not necessary.” Maggie looked his way. “We’re quite comfortable eating with the staff.”

  “That we are,” Mrs. Hayes added with a quick nod. “Please don’t trouble yourself or Mrs. Harcourt. We have friends among the staff.” She glanced across at one of the maids, and the maid returned a brief smile.

  “It’s no trouble,” Nate continued. “Please, come and join me upstairs. I’ve asked Jackson to set places for you, and I’m sure Mrs. McCarthy can send up your meals.”

  Maggie and her grandmother exchanged an uncomfortable glance. He had put them in an awkward position, but it couldn’t be helped. He would not allow his stepmother to dictate who would eat at his table.

  Maggie rose, and she and Mrs. Hayes followed him into the hallway. Violet clumped along on her crutches.

  Maggie caught up with Nate in the lower hallway. “We don’t mind eating downstairs.” She glanced toward the servants’ hall and lowered her voice. “We don’t want to create an uncomfortable situation between you and Mrs. Harcourt.”

  “It’s all right. My stepmother needs to understand her role at Morningside changed when my father breathed his last.”

  Mrs. Hayes sent him a surprised look.

  “I don’t mean to sound harsh, but I won’t tolerate her treating my guests in an unkind manner. Banishing you to the servants’ hall is totally unacceptable.”

  A hint of a smile lifted the corners of Maggie’s mouth. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, quite sure, and quite hungry. Please, let’s go upstairs and enjoy our breakfast.”

  Grandmother sent a cautious glance toward the upper floors. “What will Mrs. Harcourt say?”

  “She always takes breakfast in her room. I’ll speak to her later.” He motioned toward the stairs. “After you, ladies.” He turned to Violet. “Unless you’d like me to carry you up.”

  Violet wrinkled her nose as she scanned the steps. “I don’t mind. These are like our stairs at home. I can do it.”

  “All right. You go first, and I’ll follow behind just in case you need any assistance.”

  Maggie sent him a smile, and this one actually lit up her eyes.

  Warmth flowed through him, and his chest expanded. If watching out for Maggie’s sister and inviting them to share his breakfast table could bring that kind of warm response, maybe there was hope for bridging the gap between them after all. That thought buoyed his spirits and made his steps light as he climbed the stairs.

  Horses’ hooves sounded outside on the gravel drive. Maggie pushed aside the guest-room curtain and looked out the window. A carriage pulled by four horses drove around the side of the house and rolled to a stop in front of the main entrance. When Maggie heard the door open downstairs, she leaned closer to the glass. A footman sprang into sight and opened the carriage door.

  Mrs. Harcourt and Clara crossed the drive and climbed inside. The footman closed the door and stepped back. The driver called to the horses, and the carriage rolled off down the drive.

  Maggie’s heartbeat quickened. This was her chance. With Mrs. Harcourt and Clara away from the house and her grandmother and Violet occupied in the library, she could begin her search for something that might connect Helen Harcourt with her parents’ and sister’s deaths.

  But where should she start?

  A knock sounded at the guest room door, and Maggie turned from the window. Who could that be? Nate had left after breakfast to meet with the board of directors at Clifton, and he didn’t expect to return until midafternoon.

  She smoothed her hand down her dress. “Yes?”

  “It’s Lilly. May I come in?”

  Relief rushed through Maggie. She hurried across the room and pulled open the door. “Oh, Lilly, I’m glad you’ve come. Have you had some news from your family?”

  Her friend stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. “Yes, a message arrived a few minutes ago.”

  “Are they all right?”

  Lilly nodded. “Of course they’re upset about the fire, but they’re safe and already making plans to rebuild the shop.”

  “Did they have insurance?”

  “Yes, but Father says he’s not sure it will cover all their losses.”

  Maggie nodded. Grandmother had said the same thing before breakfast that morning. She was protected in case of fire, but she doubted their coverage would be enough to rebuild and restock. Maggie pushed those worries away and focused on Lilly again. “Where are they staying?”

  “With my uncle James, on his farm a few miles west of the village.”

  “It’s good you have family close by. I’m sure that puts your father’s mind at ease.”

  “I don’t know about that. Joseph said Father was in a terrible state last night. He feared he’d have a heart attack watching everything he’d built burn to the ground.” Lilly shuddered and rubbed her arms. “It must have been a dreadful sight.”

  Memories of the scorching heat and roaring blaze flew through Maggie’s mind and sent a dizzy wave over her. “I’ve never seen anything like it, and I hope I never do again.”

  Lilly’s expression softened. “I’m sorry for all you’ve lost. I know how much that shop meant to you and your grandmother.”

  Losing everything in the fire had been a terrible blow. How long would it take for those frightening memories to fade and loosen their grip on her heart? She blew out a deep breath, determined to refocus her thoughts. “No one was hurt. That’s what matters most.”

  “Yes. That is a blessing.” Lilly sent her a sympathetic smile. “It was kind of Mr. Harcourt to invite you to stay at Morningside until you can rebuild.”

  “We’ve only agreed to stay one day.”

  Concern lit Lilly’s eyes. “Where will you go?”

  Maggie glanced away, uncertain how to reply. She ought to be making inquiries to solve that problem and contacting the insurance company rather than plotting to search the house for clues about Mrs. Harcourt’s actions. But she would not waste this opportunity. She reached for her friend’s hand. “I need your help, Lilly.”

  “Of course. I’ll do whatever I can for you.”

  “Do you know how long Mrs. Harcourt and Clara will be away?”

  Lilly’s brow creased. “I’m not sure. I believe they’re visiting the Willmingtons at Everly Hall. That’s about an hour’s drive. So I expect they won’t be home for at least three hours.”

  Maggie nodded, her spirits lifting. That should be enough time to begin her search. “Do you know if Mrs. Harcourt keeps a diary?”

  Lilly thought for a moment. “I’ve seen her write in a book.”

  “Where does she keep it?”

  Lilly hesitated. “Why do you want to know?”

  “I just want to take a look and see…what she’s written.”

  “Why?” Doubt shadowed Lilly’s expression.

  Maggie looked away with a rush of guilt. She and Lilly had been close friends for many years, and Lilly had never betrayed her confidence—surely she could trust her. Maggie turned back. “I thought I’d look back and see what she wrote around the time of the accident.”

  Lilly stilled. “You mean when your parents and sister died?”

  Maggie met Lilly’s gaze. “Yes.”

  “But what would Mrs. Harcourt have to say about that?”

  “I’m not sure, but if I read her diary, I might find a connection.”

  Lilly cast a nervous glance toward the window. “I don’t know. We would be in a world of trouble if we got caught.”
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br />   “Just show me where she keeps her diary, then you can leave me there and go back to your duties.”

  Lilly studied her a moment, obviously debating her reply. Finally, she glanced toward the door. “It’s in her sitting room, on the desk.”

  Excitement pulsed through Maggie. “Will you show me?”

  Lilly hesitated a moment more. “All right. I’ll take you there.”

  Relief flowed through Maggie. “Thank you, Lilly.”

  “Don’t thank me. You haven’t found anything yet.”

  “No, but I have a feeling I will.”

  Lilly smiled and tipped her head toward the door. “Come on, then.”

  Nate walked down the central aisle of Building Number Four at Clifton Engineering Works with Mr. Michael Waller, one of the lead engineers. The clang of tools and grinding of the heavy equipment rang in Nate’s ears while the smell of burning oil and molten metal assaulted his nose.

  Men wearing coveralls called out to each other as they hefted sections of metal framework into place for welding.

  A few men looked up as Nate and Mr. Waller passed, some with curious glances, others with dark, suspicious looks. Nate didn’t see any of the men he and Reverend Samuelson had talked to in the village, but he wasn’t surprised. Clifton employed more than seven hundred men at this site near Heatherton and another nine hundred at the Newcastle upon Tyne location.

  “What are they building?” Nate raised his voice to be heard above the din.

  Mr. Waller slowed and turned toward Nate. “They’re assembling sections for hydraulic cranes.”

  Nate glanced at the nearest structure, and a burly man looked his way. The man’s face glistened with sweat and grime. He wore thick leather gloves and held a welding torch in his hands. A young man who looked to be no more than sixteen and was as thin as a rail stood beside him, holding up a section of metal framework.

  Nate studied the design, but it made no sense to him. There was so much he didn’t know about his father’s business, and now that he had inherited a leadership role at Clifton, he had much to learn.

  Nate looked at Mr. Waller again. “How are the cranes used?”

  Mr. Waller’s mouth tipped up on one side. Was he amused by Nate’s lack of knowledge, or was he simply a good-humored man? Nate hoped it was the latter. He didn’t like to appear as though he was uninformed or, worse yet, a fool.

  “They’re used for loading and unloading goods off ships, but they have applications to railroads and other industries as well.”

  “I see.” There was more Nate wanted to ask, but the noise level and the desire not to appear ignorant made him hold his tongue.

  “Clifton’s cranes are in demand all over the country, but we also build bridges, water systems, and just about anything else requiring engineering and hydroelectric power.”

  They continued on through the building and entered the offices at the far end. As soon as the door closed, the noise, smell, and hustle faded. Dark-paneled walls and plush rugs on the hardwood floor gave the office a look of comfort and prosperity.

  A woman seated at the reception desk looked up as they approached. She wore a neatly pressed white blouse, a masculine tie, and wire-rimmed spectacles that gave her a no-nonsense appearance. Threads of silver in her light-brown hair made Nate guess she was in her late forties.

  Waller stepped forward. “Good morning, Miss Larson. Will you please tell Mr. Rowlett that Mr. Harcourt and I are here?”

  “Yes, sir.” She picked up a cone-shaped device connected with a cord to a small box on her desk, then pressed a buzzer on the side and relayed Mr. Waller’s message.

  Nate only had a moment to stare at the machine before he heard a man reply, “Send them in.”

  Nate shot a glance at Mr. Waller. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

  The engineer smiled. “It’s a relatively new invention.”

  “Was it my father’s idea?”

  “No, but I believe he had it installed just after he saw it exhibited in London two years ago.”

  Miss Larson rose from her chair. “Please follow me, gentlemen.” She led them down the hall and opened the second door on the right.

  Nate passed through the doorway and into the inner office, followed by Mr. Waller. Six men were seated around a long table in the center of the room. Folders and papers were spread out among them along with half-full cups of coffee or tea.

  The meeting appeared to be well underway, although they had arrived at the appointed time. Nate’s stomach tensed. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, are we late?”

  Mr. Geoffrey Rowlett rose. “No, you’re on time. Please come in.”

  Nate sent a questioning glance around the table.

  Rowlett’s face turned ruddy. “We had a few matters to discuss in preparation for our meeting with you.”

  Nate didn’t like the sound of that. Why had they started without him and Mr. Waller? What had they discussed out of his hearing?

  Rowlett motioned to the two empty chairs. “Please have a seat.”

  Nate took one of the chairs Rowlett indicated at the end of the table and glanced around at the other men. He had seen most of them at his father’s funeral, though he could only remember two of their names. He must make an effort to learn what he could about them and commit their names to memory. If he was going to step into his father’s shoes at Clifton, he would need as many allies as possible.

  Rowlett remained standing at the head of the table. “First, we would like to express our sincere condolences concerning your father’s passing. We all admired him. He will be greatly missed.”

  Nate nodded. “Thank you.”

  “We want to assure you,” Rowlett continued, “that we’ll do everything in our power to carry on his fine legacy here at Clifton.”

  “I appreciate that. Father spoke highly of you all, and I know he would be grateful for your patience and consideration as I learn what’s needed to take on my role here.”

  As Nate looked around the table, each man glanced away and seemed unwilling to meet his gaze.

  Geoffrey Rowlett took his seat, giving Nate a moment to observe the man more carefully. His dark hair was streaked with silver, and his eyes were even darker. He had smooth, olive-toned skin and sharp features. His bearing and suit were stylish and impeccable.

  Rowlett had managed the business side of things at Clifton for years, while Nate’s father had been the mastermind behind most of the inventions. The two men had been associates and friends as long as Nate could remember, but Nate had never been comfortable around Geoffrey Rowlett. His odd reception today did nothing to change those feelings.

  “We appreciate you coming,” Rowlett continued as he settled into his chair. “You must have your hands full, learning what’s needed to manage Morningside, as well as caring for Mrs. Harcourt and Miss Clara during this…difficult time.” Was that a sincere look of sympathy in Rowlett’s eyes, or was it simply put on to appease Nate?

  “Thank you for your concern. Learning to manage Morningside will be a challenge, but I have a skilled estate manager and a diligent staff. With their help, I’m confident we’ll do quite well.” Nate glanced around the table once more. “I’m very interested to learn all I can about Clifton and take on my responsibilities here. In fact, I’m quite looking forward to it.”

  Rowlett shifted in his chair. “We are more than willing to continue managing Clifton’s day-to-day operations and guiding the company toward even greater heights of profitability and productivity.”

  Nate held his gaze steady. “Thank you, Mr. Rowlett. I look forward to joining you in that effort.”

  Rowlett’s brow creased slightly. “Of course you’re more than welcome to sit in on our meetings and learn how we operate, but I hope you’ll do as your father has done and leave the daily management to this capable board.”

  “I will certainly look to the board for direction,” Nate continued, keeping his tone even, “but I plan to take an active role in decision making, es
pecially as it relates to working conditions for the men employed by Clifton.”

  A ripple of unease traveled around the table, and the board members exchanged wary glances.

  Mr. Judson, seated on Nate’s left, leaned forward slightly. “Do you have some particular concerns?”

  “Yes. I understand there was an accident recently and a man was severely injured. From what I’ve heard in the village, that seems to have unsettled the men and stirred up negative feelings toward management.”

  Mr. Judson tipped his head, acknowledging Nate’s comment. “The men work with heavy equipment. Accidents are bound to happen. That one you mentioned wasn’t the first, and it won’t be the last.”

  Heat rushed into Nate’s face. “We’re talking about a man who lost the use of his hand. He won’t be able to return to his job here, and it’s doubtful he’ll be able to support his family.”

  “That is regrettable, but the men know the risks. It’s a chance they take when they sign on at Clifton.”

  “But isn’t it our responsibility to make sure our equipment is safe and the workers are protected as much as possible?”

  Judson frowned. “We have safety inspections once a year.”

  “If accidents are as common as you say, then perhaps we need better training and more frequent inspections.”

  “We have to close down operations for inspections, and that would cost us a great deal.”

  “But think what we would gain—the goodwill of our workers and a safe, efficient facility. That could increase our productivity in the long run.”

  Judson pressed his mouth into a firm line and glared at the open file on the table in front of him.

  Nate would not be put off by Judson’s stony silence. “Another issue related to safety is the length of the workday,” he continued. “Most of the men work ten-hour shifts. I believe shortening their day to nine or even eight hours would help them be more alert and better able to avoid accidents.”

  Mr. Judson huffed. “I’m sure they’d all like to stay in bed another hour or two, but that won’t put food on the table for their families or make a profit for us.”

  Rowlett lifted his hand. “It is commendable of you to speak up for the workers’ concerns, but you don’t understand the impact your suggestions would have on the company.”