Mary Nichols

by Society Bride Working Man

  Myles and his two companions, having surveyed the proposed line from Leicester back to Gorryham village, arrived there late that evening. Waterson elected to go back to his lodgings, but Myles and Joe Masters decided to spend the night at the Golden Lion before continuing the work next day. They would need to take their calculations and findings back to the office and work on them, but they could see no great difficulty, except the short stretch to avoid the village. They were discussing whether a cutting or a tunnel would best serve when Edward and Victor burst in, talking and laughing.

  ‘Landlord, your best ale,’ Edward called out. ‘Dining at home and being polite to my mother’s guests is thirsty work.’

  He leaned against the bar and looked round the company, which had fallen silent at their entrance. Most were villagers: tenant farmers, agricultural labourers, the blacksmith, the harness maker and the cobbler, all known to him, all in some measure dependent on the Viscount for a living. They touched their caps or forelocks to him, but none looked particularly pleased to see him. Then he caught sight of Myles and his friend. ‘Whom have we here?’ he asked. ‘Not the usual peasantry by the look of it.’ He picked up the quart pot the landlord had filled and put at his elbow and wandered over to them. ‘What business brings you here?’

  ‘Who’s asking?’ Myles demanded, deciding he didn’t like the man. He had seen the look of exasperation on the landlord’s face when he had taken his drink and made no effort to pay for it.

  ‘I am. You are not the usual sort of labourers, but certainly not gentlemen, so I guess you’re railwaymen. Am I right?’

  ‘You are.’

  ‘Ah, then you must be the advance guard of the Peterborough and Leicester.’

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘There are some—’ and he waved the pot at the company ‘—who will not welcome you in their midst. Heathen rabble, some say, not fit to mix with civilised folk. And overpaid into the bargain.’

  ‘If you mean the navvies, sir, they are as hard a working set of men as you’ll find anywhere and earn their wages.’

  ‘You being one, I suppose.’

  ‘He’s—’ Joe began, but stopped when Myles laid a hand on his arm.

  ‘Aye, and proud of it.’

  ‘Is that so? What have you got to be so proud of? That you can outswear, outdrink and outwench any ordinary man?’

  Myles laughed. ‘If you like. We can also outwork him. How many men do you know who can lift twenty tons of muck a day from the ground into a wagon, with nothing but a shovel?’

  ‘None, and I’ll wager you can’t, either.’

  ‘Oh, but I can.’

  ‘Would you care to prove it?’ He ignored Victor, who was pulling on his sleeve to persuade him away from the confrontation. ‘Twenty guineas says you can’t.’

  ‘Very well, twenty guineas, but you’ll have to wait until we start building this line. I’m not disrupting work or any other works in order to satisfy you.’

  The men in the room, who had been listening to the conversation with undisguised curiosity, began to laugh. ‘Oh, there’s a put-off if you like,’ one said. ‘He’ll be long gone afore he’s put to the test. I don’ reckon he’ve got twenty guineas.’

  For answer, Myles fetched a purse from his pocket and counted out twenty guineas. ‘There’s the stake and the landlord can hold it.’

  He handed it over to the landlord, who looked to Edward for his stake, but he just laughed. ‘Why would I carry cash about me? I have no need of it. You’ll have to accept my word as a man of honour.’

  It was a statement that made Myles laugh. ‘As you have declined to give me your name, how am I to know that?’

  ‘Edward Gorridge, at your service.’

  ‘The Viscount’s heir, I presume.’

  ‘You presume correctly.’

  ‘Very well, when the line reaches this village, you will find me among the men, doing my share of the work.’

  ‘Myles…’ Joe protested, but Myles took no notice of him. He held out his hand to Edward who, after a moment’s hesitation, took it.

  ‘Landlord,’ Edward called. ‘Let’s have a drink to seal the bargain.’

  Drinks were brought and Edward and Victor sat down with Myles and Joe. Myles could see that Gorridge was already a little tipsy and wondered if he would remember the wager by the morning. Or perhaps he did not consider a bet with a navvy one that needed honouring. It did not bother him one way or another; he could make good his boast. His father might not be too pleased when he heard of it, but he was tired of having to defend the navvies’ reputation and it might help when it came to recruiting men for the works.

  Edward, who had imbibed freely at dinner that evening, was not in a mood to be discreet. ‘Had to get out of the house,’ he said, by way of a confidence. ‘It’s full of women, chattering about clothes and balls and picnics. Want me to marry, you know.’

  Myles smiled. ‘And you are not keen on the idea?’

  ‘Don’t see why I should when it’s just as easy to have my cake and eat it.’ He laughed and quaffed ale. ‘You married?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It isn’t as if she has a decent dowry, though I don’t need money. No one in these parts would dare refuse me whatever I ask for. I bet I could take that whole barrel of beer off mine host and he would not ask for payment.’ He pointed to a giant barrel on its stand beside the bar.

  ‘Why would you want to do that?’

  ‘Because I can.’

  ‘What would you do with it when you got it? Could you carry it off?’

  ‘’Course not. I’d send someone to fetch it.’

  Myles was aware of the look of consternation on the landlord’s face. ‘Supposing mine host refused to hand it over?’

  ‘He would not dare. The place belongs to the estate and he can easily be sent off with a flea in his ear.’

  ‘A bit hard on him, don’t you think? And it seems a waste of time to me to send someone to fetch it when you could have the pleasure of drinking it tonight.’ Myles was beginning to enjoy himself. ‘Pick it up and carry it out. If you can, I’ll undertake to pay for it.’

  ‘You’ll pay for the whole barrel?’

  ‘Yes—unlike you, I do believe in money transactions.’

  ‘What happens if he fails?’ Victor asked.

  Myles shrugged. ‘A gentleman would offer to pay…’ He left the rest of his sentence unsaid.

  ‘Being a gentleman, I never welsh on a debt of honour,’ Edward said with heavy emphasis.

  Myles ignored that and went to the bar counter to speak quietly to the publican, watched by everyone in the room. This was the best entertainment they had had in years and they longed for the Viscount’s pup to be taught a lesson. No one could lift that barrel single-handed, not even the giant navvy. Myles returned. ‘You can have it if you take it now.’

  ‘Right, lads, give us a hand,’ Edward said, addressing a group of labourers. ‘Bendish, go and hitch up your cart, we’ll put it on that.’

  ‘No, that’s not the deal,’ Myles said. ‘You have to carry it out of the door single-handed.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, man, it’s not possible.’

  ‘Pity. I was looking forward to sharing it with you.’

  ‘You can and welcome, if you help me get it out to Bendish’s cart.’

  ‘So, you will not take my challenge and yet you expect me to take yours.’

  ‘If you’re so clever, let’s see you carry it.’

  Myles laughed and took off his jacket. ‘Hold this for me, Joe.’

  He walked over to the barrel, flexed his muscles and, bending his knees, heaved it on to his shoulder. A gasp went round the crowd. It was three-quarters full and for a moment he wondered if he had taken on more than he could chew, but he stood for a moment to get the balance right and then walked out of the door, which was hurriedly opened for him by the nearest bystander. He set off up the street, the barrel on his shoulder, followed by everyone in the bar, including the publican
. It was incredibly heavy and his knees began to feel wobbly, but just to prove a point, he broke into a trot. Everyone cheered. After a hundred yards he felt he had done enough and carefully set the barrel down on a low wall.

  Joe joined him. ‘You’re mad,’ he said, as everyone rushed up, laughing and cheering.

  ‘Yes, but I might have made a few friends and that will stand me in good stead when the works reach here,’ he murmured, for Joe’s ears only.

  ‘Is that why you did it, to make friends?’

  ‘Not altogether.’ He had taken a dislike to Edward Gorridge for his arrogance. ‘Well, lads,’ he said to the men as Edward came puffing up, trailing in everyone’s wake. ‘I think we should take this back where it belongs and drink to the health of the navvies, don’t you?’

  This was greeted by a resounding cheer and the barrel was rolled down the hill back to the inn and manhandled back on its stand.

  Two hours later, the men, in various stages of inebriation, returned to their homes, until only Myles, Joe, Edward and Victor were left. Victor had tried his best to persuade Edward to leave but he would not go. The whole barrel had been bought and, as it still had some ale left in it, he was of a mind to try to drink the navvy under the table. Joe decided to go up to bed and advised Myles to do likewise.

  ‘I can’t leave him like that,’ Myles said, pointing at the comatose Gorridge. ‘How did he get here?’

  ‘In his gig,’ the publican said. ‘It’s in the backyard.’

  ‘He’s in no fit state to drive it.’ Myles had taken a few more than he was wont to do, but he was still reasonably in control of his faculties.

  ‘No, and neither is his friend.’

  ‘Nothing for it, I’ll have to see he gets safely home.’

  ‘Why?’ Joe demanded. ‘It’s not your fault he can’t hold his ale.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I feel responsible. You go to bed.’ He bent down and threw the drunken man over his shoulder and marched out with him, followed by Victor, who was just able to stand, though he rolled all over the place when he tried to walk and giggled like a girl.

  One of the inn’s servants lead the gig out of the yard and Myles deposited Edward on the seat, helped Victor in and squeezed in beside them. Both men began to sing a bawdy song as they trotted down the street and took the turn on to the lane leading to Linwood Park.

  Lady Gorridge was leading the ladies out of the drawing room towards the stairs, when they heard the sound of a carriage arriving and loud singing. They looked at each other in surprise that anyone should arrive so late at night, and Lady Gorridge looked embarrassed. They had not reached the foot of the stairs when whoever was on the outside beat a loud tattoo with the door knocker. The duty footman opened the door and a man marched in with the Gorridge heir slung over his shoulder like a sack of coal.

  ‘Where shall I put him?’ he demanded of the footman, and then, catching sight of five ladies standing in the hall with expressions of horror on their faces, checked himself. ‘I beg your pardon, ladies. The gentleman is a little under the weather. I think the other one can make it under his own steam.’ As he spoke Victor staggered into the hall.

  ‘So I see.’ Lady Gorridge moved forward, her face a mask of barely controlled fury. ‘Follow me.’ And to the ladies, ‘Please excuse me. If you need anything, I am sure Dorothea will be able to help you.’ She started up the stairs with Myles and his burden behind her. Victor, looking sheepish, bowed to the ladies and almost fell over in the process and then followed the little cavalcade, leaving the rest of the ladies looking from one to the other.

  ‘I think I had better inform Papa,’ Dorothea said and disappeared in the direction of the billiard room.

  ‘I think, girls, we had better go to our rooms,’ their mother suggested. ‘And tomorrow we will behave as if nothing has happened and not mention it. It is only youthful high spirits, but Lady Gorridge was clearly embarrassed and the sooner it is forgotten the better.’

  ‘I wonder who that man is,’ Rosemary murmured. ‘He did not look like the sort of person Mr Gorridge would associate with.’

  Lucy did not answer, but she had recognised the navvy and, though she had tried to hide behind her mother, she was quite sure he had recognised her. It was only a glance, an exchange of messages. From him a kind of ‘Well, well, so we meet again,’ which was accompanied by a slight twitching of his lips that looked as if he might break into a broad smile if she gave the slightest encouragement. Her message was simple: ‘Do not, I beg you, betray the fact that we have met before.’ He must have understood, for he had quickly turned away and followed Lady Gorridge.

  ‘No, but it is nothing to do with us and we must forget all about it,’ the Countess said, preceding her daughters up the stairs to their rooms. She kissed them both goodnight outside her own room and disappeared inside. Rosemary and Lucy moved on and were standing outside Rosemary’s door saying goodnight, when Myles came out of Edward’s room and made for the head of the stairs. To do so, he had to pass the girls.

  ‘Good evening, ladies,’ he said, maintaining his navvy persona. ‘Fine evening, don’t you think?’

  ‘You may think so,’ Lucy said. She was unaccountably angry with him, as if he had somehow affronted her. That Mr Gorridge was drunk was clear and it was his fault. She had never seen Mr Gorridge even slightly inebriated the whole time they were in London and attending balls and parties, so he must have been plied with drink by the navvy. Everyone knew they were hardened drinkers and hardly ever sober. She ignored the fact that the man had been perfectly sober and polite when she had met him before and did not appear to be more than a little tipsy even now. And how had the two men met? She wished they had not, though she could not have said why she wished it, unless it was her own strange, mixed-up emotions that wanted them kept apart. She did not want to find herself comparing them, mentally listing the faults of each against their virtues. It was a futile exercise, anyway.

  Myles compounded his unpopularity by smiling broadly. ‘It is indeed a fine evening when a man is privileged to meet two such charming young ladies.’

  Rosemary giggled and Lucy pushed her into her room, hoping he had not noticed, but she knew he had. ‘Goodnight, sir,’ she said and turned on her heel to leave him.

  He reached out and caught her arm, making her turn back to him. ‘I am sorry,’ he said contritely. ‘I had no idea you were here and I would not have subjected you or any of the other ladies to the spectacle we must have presented when we came in.’

  She looked down at his hand on her arm. It was a large hand, brown and tough from the work he did, but surprisingly neatly manicured. It was not gripping her tightly; in fact, there was a gentleness about him that decried his size. She knew she should stand on her dignity, and demand to be unhanded, but found herself tongue-tied. He was so close to her, close enough for his legs to be brushing against her skirt. And for a second, discomforting time, she found herself wondering what it would be like to be held in his arms. Unable to look at him, she turned away and he released her.

  ‘Goodnight, sir,’ she said and disappeared into her room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

  He went downstairs and met Viscount Gorridge and the Earl of Luffenham in the hall, apparently on their way to find out what was happening. ‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ he said cheerfully, as the footman opened the front door for him.

  ‘Who are you?’ Lord Gorridge demanded.

  ‘Myles Moorcroft, my lord. Your wife will explain my business here. You will find her with your son.’ And before he could be detained further, he hurried from the house.

  He wished he had never become involved with Gorridge. He certainly would not have done so if he had known the Earl of Luffenham’s daughter was staying at Linwood Park…. She had been disgusted with him and who could blame her? Carefully nurtured, she could know nothing of drunkenness and the japes working men got up to to amuse themselves. And he had made matters worse by maintaining his pretence of being a navvy and teasing her.
His apology had been too little and too late. And how to redeem himself he did not know.

  But, oh, the pleasure of besting that young pup was not to be denied. The villagers would have sore heads in the morning, but he did not doubt they had enjoyed their evening and, when the navvies came to work in the vicinity, they would remember it with pleasure and there would be no trouble between the two communities, as there so often was when the railway builders arrived in a district. That would not be for some time because the survey had yet to be completed and approved, the legal side to be concluded with any landowners along the way, sub-contractors employed to do the work and a labour force assembled. When all that was done, he would make a point of inspecting the work at regular intervals and then he might meet the young lady again.

  Seeing her tonight, he realised she was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her hair was as lustrous, her eyes as lively, her figure as perfect and that green dress, simple as it was, had been just right, setting off creamy shoulders and a long neck. She had been angry, though. He smiled as he let himself in through the back door of the Golden Lion; he would meet her again, he was convinced of it, and perhaps in more favourable circumstances. And he would do his best to win her round. It was a question of pride, though. If anyone had suggested he was falling in love, he would have hotly denied it.

  Chapter Three

  Edward did not appear for breakfast. Nor did Victor. Lady Gorridge, who felt some explanation was called for, told the Countess, in Lucy’s hearing, that her son had been taken ill while conducting some business with the railway engineer, a Mr Masters, who was staying at the inn in the village, and Mr Masters had asked one of his men to drive him home. She was sure that he was not to know that dear Edward would be so brutally manhandled. Of course they had been obliged to thank the man, but had made their disapproval clear.

  ‘I felt sure it was something of the sort,’ murmured the Countess, lying just as nobly as Lady Gorridge. ‘It can hardly have helped his recovery to be carried in that way.’ She frowned at Lucy, who was doing her best not to laugh. ‘I hope he is better this morning.’