Love Engineered
Page 13
Her mortification over all that passed between them was still apparent. She couldn't believe how wrong she had been about his feelings. She felt very naive, childlike even. She wasn't sure that she would ever get over the look of disgust on his face. It tortured her. She had never been told she was unladylike by anyone. She examined her own behaviour in every situation and asked herself if she was indeed doing anything wrong. She knew his comment must be based on something Mr Risinger had said, that he believed her to be free with her affections. But still there was the long list of other objections: that he thought her more male than female, that she was furthest in his mind from what constituted a wife. What did he want in a wife? Could she ever match it?
When the three months in Paris was over, Louise and Lucy both found themselves wondering where the time had gone, and they reluctantly made their way back to England. Standing at the docks in Calais, Louise watched Lucy as their ship prepared itself for the voyage. Lucy was dressed in a beautiful blue muslin gown, one of the best Paris had to offer. She had grown in maturity since the day they had left, though she could never be a friend in the same way Jane had been. With Jane there was an easiness of dialogue and they seemed to understand each other without speaking. Despite being only a few years younger than Jane, Lucy needed many things explained. She had grown up in a sheltered, protected way. When asked about her parents, she merely spoke of them in terms of their age, appearance and position in life and barely mentioned them otherwise.
Louise had at times found Lucy somewhat difficult to be with – her flighty nature could be exasperating. But then her mind would wander back to the reason why they were in Paris and she would check herself.
Luckily, Lucy spoke of Mr Francis only twice. Both times she managed not to cry and only to say that she hoped he was well and had found a position. If her mind dwelt on him at other times, she gave no indication.
They parted in London. Lucy had hoped that her illustrious friend would invite her to stay in London for a few weeks, but it wasn't to be.
Louise arrived back at her estate somewhat at ease, but her three months away meant a backlog of work. Although her steward took care of many issues, there was always a list of things that only she could decide. She threw herself into those tasks as earnestly as ever.
There was still no news of Mr Risinger. Mr Russell pressed her to pay off the man's debts. The child was hidden in a safe place, and she still felt a reluctance to do anything regarding this man. If Mr Risinger hadn't purposely turned Mr Lucas against her, perhaps she would have acted more kindly towards him. But she hated him more for his recent actions than ever before.
. . .
In those same months while Louise was in Paris, Charles had written to Mr Russell to offer the child Marie sanctuary in Scotland with his aunt. It was declined because arrangements for the child's removal from Devon had already been made, but Mr Russell was affable with thanks in his reply.
Charles was a little frustrated that he hadn't means of assistance in this situation and that he was still unable to make an apology. Any mention of Miss Thomas to Jane would cause her to be quiet for many hours afterwards. He resumed work, but often found himself thinking of the safety of both the child and Miss Thomas. There was much work to do; a commission for a viaduct in West London meant that he had little time for other projects. The Tamar bridge progressed well, but he decided that now was a good time to call Mr Boyd back from Devon. His visit would serve three purposes: to update his employers more fully about the progress of the bridge, for the employers to offer him a partnership, and most importantly, as a distraction for Jane.
When Mr Boyd returned to London, Jane spent many of her evenings in his company. Her brother's diversion may have worked, but she still missed her friend.
On one such evening as they all sat together, Ashton took a gulp of port and placed his glass down. “It seems we have a problem with some of the funding for the Tamar bridge.”
“What is it?” Charles asked.
“One of the major investors has dropped out.”
“Who?”
“Mr Townend. I've never met him, but it seems his promise of money has never materialised.”
“You don't seem concerned.”
“I am a little. There were others interested in investing, but we could run into serious problems soon if we don't get the cash quickly. We may even have to stop the work. One of the interested investors who was too late for the funding the first time around was Robert Adams. I contacted him recently about Boyd becoming a partner, but the letter was returned. I sent an update on the progress of his main investment, the Bristol Docks enlargement, but that too was returned. I know he was interested in the bridge, but it seems I have no way of contacting him at the moment.”
Charles stopped for a moment. “You might want to speak to a lawyer in Bond Street. He might be able to help. His name is Mr Russell and I believe he might be able to get you in contact with Mr Adams.”
“Very well. I will try,” Ashton replied.
“Tell me – Mr Adams, he hasn't withdrawn funding from our other projects?” Charles wondered whether Miss Thomas had contacted Mr Adams and asked him to remove his support.
“No. Only that he returns my letters. Do not worry,” Ashton said. “These things have a way of sorting themselves out.”
Charles gave a slow nod and watched his sister and Boyd near the fire. What they spoke about he couldn't hear, but for the first time in his life he found their intimacy intriguing. They were seated a respectable distance apart, both blushed frequently and Jane, despite her impeccable self control, looked at Boyd in a way she obviously reserved just for him. Charles was more than happy about the match and he felt a declaration would happen soon. He hoped that it would remove the slight awkwardness that remained between him and his sister. He shifted himself in his chair as he thought yet again of Mr Risinger. He hadn't heard anything from Mr Russell for many weeks and could only assume that he hadn't been found.
One week later, Lucas, Ashton and their new partner Boyd left London for the Tamar bridge in Devon.
“We will need to stop off at Axminster, and we may need to stay there for one night. Mr Russell, that lawyer, was helpful in pointing me in the right direction of Mr Adams,” Ashton said as the train made its way out of London.
Hours later they arrived at Axminster, a pleasant little station close to the town centre. Only just over the border from Dorset, it was lush, clean and quiet. They found rooms at the inn closest to the station and then hired a cab. Ashton insisted both partners accompany him to their destination. He was hopeful of meeting Mr Adams and wanted them with him to impress him and explain anything he might ask.
An hour later they found themselves being driven past a grand Portland stone gateway arch and gatehouse.
The road to the grand house they expected to see any moment seemed to go on for miles. Finally, the view changed from forest to meadow and then landscaped gardens. Then, there it stood: the estate house that Ashton hoped would lead him to Mr Adams.
The front door was answered by the porter, who after hearing from Ashton in hushed tones, showed them into a huge room that they all took to be the drawing room. It was furnished with red Indian silk wallpaper, a large Persian carpet and the finest French chairs. There were several portraits on the walls and on the tables stood huge, finely decorated porcelain vases. It was truly the house of someone of considerable wealth.
The servant returned a few minutes later. “Miss Thomas will see you shortly,” he said, and then closed the door.
Charles's heart almost stopped. “Miss Thomas?” he said in a strangled voice.
“Yes, thought I would keep it secret from you until the last possible moment. I know she's not your favourite member of the gentry,” Ashton said slyly. “Didn't want you refusing to come. She is our last hope of contact with Mr Adams. I always believed she had a preference for you or at least that her interest in engineering made her a little in awe of you.”
“How could you?” he managed.
Ashton held up his hands. “Now, now Charles, try not to be annoyed – it's all for the partnership, you know. Bear it as well as you can. Hopefully it will be a short visit. She can tell us how to contact Mr Adams and we shall be on our way.”
Charles went pale. He grasped a nearby table. Until he remembered it was her table in her house. Fear and dread over came him in waves, as well as the knowledge that had he sought such an interview for three months, but never expected it at such short notice. His mind raced as to what to say.
He wondered how he would be received. By now she would know he was here. He had given his card to the porter along with his partners.
Chapter 14
One of the footmen told Louise of the three gentlemen's arrival. “I will be down in due course,” she said, without a note of emotion. The door clicked shut and she suddenly felt very alone. She had to stop herself from shaking. Finally they were here. Well versed as she was to receiving visitors, she had never received a man she loved here in Devon. Yes, she still loved him despite all that had passed between them and her best efforts to forget him. It would be sweet turmoil, with her knowledge of his dislike for her and for landowners such as she. But part of her wouldn't allow his feelings to remove the fact that she ran her estate as she saw fit and she ran it well. No, he may dislike what she represented, he may dislike her for her behaviour, but she would never be ashamed of her ancestry and the great privilege in life that she had inherited.
Still, there was an awkwardness about her. She told herself she must appear as ladylike as possible; that his objections to her were such that she must demonstrate a high level of propriety. She paced the room for several minutes and muttered to herself, as she tried to gain her composure.
She knew of their arrival, had expected it. She had received Mr Russell's letter a few days ago:
I trust this letter finds you well. I have no news of Risinger, but will inform you of any further developments. We still believe him to be in Manchester or Liverpool and are taking all necessary measures. The child is safe and well.
I write this time on a different matter. Yesterday I was visited by Mr Ashton, of Lucas and Ashton Partnership. He informed me he was trying to contact Robert Adams, but that all recent letters had been returned. I thought it a little odd that this should happen and that you would have informed me of Mr Adams's withdrawal of funding etc to this company. I therefore gave him leave to contact you directly, your previous trust of Mr Lucas being my major motive in allowing this unusual occurrence. That gentleman has certainly taken a keen interest in the disappearance of Mr Risinger and has offered his help to find him.
I haven't told him anything other than the fact that you can give him information on Mr Adams, so if you choose not to take the final step to reveal – you can say you're Mr Adams's agent, or such. Mr Ashton and his partners intend to call on you on their way to the Tamar bridge works in a few days' time.
I hope I haven't been too presumptuous in any of these actions.
Etc
Mr Russell gave little away, but the news that Mr Lucas appeared to believe her side of the story gave her great solace. She checked her image in the mirror. She looked well enough: her hair tied expertly, her dress of light pink cotton, one of the newer ones purchased in Paris. It was very becoming, the height of fashion. Not that he would notice. That was her only regret. She could be the most beautiful woman in the world and he wouldn't care.
Finally, she found herself opening the drawing room door and stepping in.
The three gentlemen were standing in different places around the room. Mr Ashton was the nearest and, upon seeing her enter, stepped forward to greet her.
“How do you do?” she curtsied.
He took her outstretched hand. “Well. Thank you, Miss Thomas, I am very pleased to see you again. I hope you do not mind our intrusion, but we come on business.”
“Not at all,” she said.
“You know Mr Lucas of course.” She turned to where Mr Ashton indicated and allowed herself to look at him. He looked well; his hair was longer than usual and his complexion was clear and bright. But it was his eyes that showed the truth, they were dark and assessing. To her disappointment he didn't move closer and remained the six or seven steps away. His distance only served as a reminder that she had missed his tall, handsome figure in a room.
“Mr Lucas, I'm very pleased to see you again.”
“Miss Thomas,” he replied with a bow, and kept his gaze on her.
“How are your mother and sister?”
“They are well, thank you,” he replied.
“I . . . I'm glad of it.” She paused to try and stop her blushes, before she continued with great composure, “Will you give them my best regards when you see them next?”
“Of course,” he said, then looked away. Their conversation was now over, it seemed. She took it to mean that he no longer wished to talk to her and disappointment surged through her. She had hoped things would be different between them despite their last conversation, but it appeared nothing had changed. Had he read her letter? Had he listened to all that Mr Russell had told him? Maybe he still blamed her. Maybe, despite everything, he disliked her so much that nothing could counter it.
Mr Ashton then continued, “And this is Mr Henry Boyd, our new partner.”
“I'm pleased to make your acquaintance,” she said.
Mr Boyd was a handsome man by any standards and his manner seemed pleasing. He was young, no more than twenty-five, and taller than the others. His frame was large but though in some this would cause clumsiness, Mr Boyd held himself well. Jane had excellent taste. But she expected nothing less. She recollected herself. “I believe you're all here to see Mr Adams?”
“Yes. Is there some way we can get a message to him? We would like to speak to him,” Ashton said.
“Mr Adams is not available, but anything you wish to say to him can be said to me. I'm his agent.”
Louise saw Ashton steal a sly glance at Mr Lucas, as if unsure what to say next. He drew himself up. “I hope you do not think me rude, but we really would prefer to speak to Mr Adams directly. Would you tell me how I can contact him?” He gave an apologetic smile.
“I'm afraid that is not possible.” She tilted up her chin, daring him to question her further.
“We have urgent business,” Ashton said. “And in order to protect Mr Adams's investments, we must speak with him. Our letters have been returned and you are our only means of contact with him.”
“And I'm telling you that he is not available and you must speak to me.” She tried to remain polite, though she was starting to grow annoyed.
Ashton seemed to sense her irritation and cleared his throat. “Forgive me madam, but how can we be sure that Mr Adams has you as his proxy in these matters?”
She thought for a moment. He had a point. It seemed there was no way around this. She trusted two out of the three, but wasn't entirely sure whether she should run such a risk in disclosing the vital information to the third.
“Mr Boyd is an equal partner now, you said?”
“Yes,”
“All the necessary paperwork for this has been completed and signed?”
“Yes, it was completed more than a month ago. May I enquire as to where these questions are leading?”
“Merely, I needed to ascertain whether Mr Boyd could be trusted to keep Mr Adams's secret. As a partner he will lose too much if he divulges anything.”
“What secret might that be?” Ashton asked.
“I am Robert Adams.”
Silence descended on the room after her words were spoken. She hoped someone would say something, but no one did. Louise watched as Ashton looked at his partners, obviously hoping they would speak. Both Mr Lucas and Mr Boyd
seemed stunned into silence. Eventually, after Ashton shifted about a little, he asked, “You are Robert Adams?”
“Yes,” she said. “We're one and the same. Robert Adams is the name I use for my investments. I'm sorry your letters were returned by my assistant; it seems he followed my request too stringently. When I told him to return any letters from Mr Lucas and his family, I didn't mean him to include business letters to Robert Adams. But it's my own fault, I should have been more specific.”
They all seemed to ignore her last comment, or at least, not take it in.
Ashton cleared his throat. “Forgive me if I doubt you, but I find this all a little unusual. You're saying that you and Robert Adams are the same person?”
“Yes.”
Charles stepped forwards, his face a little paler than a few moments before, “Ashton – I know enough of Miss Thomas to know she always speaks the truth.” Then he added, “However strange it may seem.”
Louise met his gaze and said in genuine gratitude, “Thank you.”
“Well then, it must be true. But why were you returning Charles's letters?” Ashton asked.
She opened her mouth to speak when Mr Lucas interrupted. “It was a misunderstanding between us, for which I'm most earnestly sorry now. I have been for the last three months, even before your news a moment ago.”
She searched his face for truthfulness. She saw what she hoped to see. “Thank you.”
“Well Mr Adams, can we adjourn somewhere and speak of business matters?” Ashton asked with a smile.
“Of course, please come with me to the study.”
She led them all to a large oak-panelled room and sat behind a vast oak desk that was covered with piles of paper and folders. The blotting paper was covered with ink spots, and at the side was a pile of pens and pencils. Discussions began, and before long it became clear that Lucas and Boyd were not needed. She suggested they walk about the grounds so that she could negotiate alone with Ashton.