‘I don’t know,’ she murmured. ‘I am afraid.’
‘Of me?’
‘No, not of you, of what might happen.’
‘Nothing will happen that you do not want to happen. That’s what it means.’
‘I think,’ she said slowly, ‘that I should like you to take me back now.’
‘Your wish is my command.’ It was said cheerfully; the soft mood had gone and he was once again the navvy. She watched him pick up the oars and begin to pull. She could see the muscles through the sleeves of his shirt as they did their work. She did not have the courage to follow him to that mythical land and half of her regretted it. The other half suddenly began to wonder if she had been missed and what she would say to explain her absence if she had. Real life had thrust its way into the dream.
He pulled into the bank at the spot they had left—how long before? Was it minutes or was it hours? He tied the mooring rope to a stake and jumped out, then turned to offer her his hand, steadying the little craft with his foot. She jumped out in a flurry of silky skirts and he grabbed her other hand to prevent her falling. The next moment she was in his arms and her face was lifted to his. He bent and kissed her lips, gently, reverently, like the kiss of summer rain on parched earth. She lost herself in the sensuous delight of it, made no pretence of a struggle. It seemed so right.
He lifted his head at last. ‘I must go before I disgrace myself.’
‘I believe you already have.’
‘Then so have you.’
‘If I have, it is not polite to point it out to me.’
He laughed and hugged her to him. ‘As we are so past all redemption, we might as well make it worth our while.’ And he kissed her again.
It was a little while before she wriggled away from him. ‘I don’t even know your name.’
‘It’s Myles.’
‘Then, Mr Myles, I suggest you get back in that boat and row yourself away from here before someone comes looking for me.’
She had taken his Christian name for his surname and he did not correct her. ‘I’ll walk you back.’
‘You will not!’ It was said with a degree of panic that made him realise she was not completely lost to her position. It might be the little bit of mystery surrounding him that intrigued her, or the danger of allowing herself to be kissed by a navvy, notorious for their licentious ways, but she was not yet ready to acknowledge that she felt anything more. He smiled.
‘Then I will not. But we will meet again.’
‘I think not. We return home tomorrow.’
‘Makes no difference. We shall meet again. It is written in the stars, in the very air we breathe. Remember that if you are tempted to marry someone else.’
‘Whom I marry is no concern of yours.’
‘Oh, but it is, most decidedly it is.’
‘Nonsense. I have foolishly allowed you to take liberties tonight. I cannot think why, but it does not mean anything….’
‘No? Do you think a brutal navvy has no finer feelings? That he cannot be hurt by rejection?’
‘I begin to wonder if you are a navvy.’
‘Oh, I am that,’ he said. ‘I’ve got muscles to prove it. And bruises, too.’ He lifted her hand, slowly and deliberately removed her glove and put his lips to the back of her hand, then turned it over and kissed the palm. She shivered as his lips explored her flesh and her whole body seemed to turn liquid with desire. Terrified of her own reaction, she snatched her hand away and fled.
He stood and watched her and then went slowly back to the boat, where he sat patiently waiting for Joe, whom he had rowed over from the other side of the lake earlier that evening. It was much shorter and quicker than going by road and he had hoped he might watch the jollity from a distance and perhaps catch a glimpse of Lucy, tormenting himself with the thought that she was dancing with Gorridge. And then she had appeared like a wraith, pale and achingly beautiful. The opportunity to have her to himself for a while had been too good to miss. It was all very well to talk nonsense to her, saying whatever came into his head, watching her slow smile, but then he hadn’t won her over completely, not as a navvy. Why had he continued with that pretence?
But it wasn’t a pretence. He was a navvy. And a gentleman. And the two sides of his nature did not sit easily together. His mother deplored the navvy, his father laughed and said it had been the making of him. But when it came to dealing with young ladies like Lucinda Vernley, his two sides warred with each other. Having started out the navvy, it was becoming increasingly difficult to show her the other side of him. He could dance just as well as Edward Gorridge, could dress as finely. Easy compliments that meant nothing could just as easily trip from his tongue and yet he chose the other way, even when she had given him the opportunity to explain.
He could see the lights about the gardens between the trees, could hear the music, and a stray dog barking. Was she in Gorridge’s arms? Was he even now proposing marriage? Would she accept?
The music stopped; several carriages made their way from the stables behind the house to the gravel at the front. He could hear, rather than see, the horses. Voices calling goodnight, the clop of hooves and the rumble of wheels told him that the guests were departing. A few minutes later Joe appeared. ‘You waited, then?’
‘I said I would.’
Joe climbed into the boat and picked up one of the oars. Together they set off across the moonlit water.
‘A good evening?’ Myles asked.
‘The usual thing. The gentry and the hoi polloi in the same space, but not connecting. You didn’t have to wait about. I could have gone to the Golden Lion for the night.’
‘Oh, my evening was not entirely wasted.’
Joe laughed. ‘Did a bit of poaching, did you?’
‘Yes.’
Joe decided not to comment on the lack of evidence of success. He had seen the lady disappear and had a feeling that rabbits did not figure in his friend’s evening at all. He just hoped he wasn’t storing trouble up for himself.
The Earl was furious with Lucy. He blamed her that they had returned home without a proposal or even the hint of one. She had been too cool towards Mr Gorridge, she had said something to upset him. ‘You have too sharp a tongue, Lucinda,’ he said when they were once more at home. ‘No doubt you found fault or more likely proffered an opinion on something ladies should have no opinion on.’
‘I was not aware I had done so, Papa. In fact, I was careful not to do so. And Mr Gorridge was perfectly at ease with me. He simply did not see fit to commit himself, that is all.’
‘I felt sure he had proposed last evening,’ her mother said. ‘You both disappeared and I thought you had gone off to be private somewhere.’
She had not known that Mr Gorridge had taken himself off almost immediately after she had, until she met him as she was returning to the house. He seemed a little put out at first, until he realised she had not been looking for him and had only come out for a breath of fresh air. Then he had tucked her hand into his arm and they had rejoined the company together. ‘We simply went for a walk round the garden to cool down. It was terribly hot in the tent.’
‘Whatever is the matter with the man?’ the Earl demanded in exasperation. ‘There have been opportunities in plenty and he has not seen fit to take them up.’
‘I think, Papa, that he enjoys keeping everyone on tenterhooks. He as good as told me so.’
‘Well, all is not lost then. He is coming with his parents for a week’s shooting next month and no doubt he’ll come up to scratch then.’
Lucy wanted very much to tell him she had made up her mind to reject the proposal, but decided not to anger him again after managing to pacify him. Time enough for that when Mr Gorridge did manage to find the courage or inclination to propose and she could find a reason that would satisfy him. The real one was all because of the navvy. Oh, she knew marriage to him was out of the question, not only because of what he was; everyone knew that the navvies were hardly ever married to the wo
men who shared their lives. And what a life! She could not even begin to contemplate that. It was more to do with the way he looked at her, searching her face as if he could not get enough of her, the way he spoke to her, his concern for her and the strange sensations he aroused in her. Edward Gorridge had never done that, never attempted to do so and, having met the navvy, she was more than ever convinced that Edward Gorridge was a cold fish. She must look elsewhere for her partner in life.
Her father let the matter rest, much to her relief, and her life returned to its normal pattern. She went riding, paid visits with her mother to friends in the neighbourhood and to the poor people in the village. Life had been hard for the agricultural community for years; harvest after harvest had been bad and many of them were hungry. The Countess did what she could by taking them little presents of food and clothing for which she was loved. Lucy, taking her cue from her mother, interested herself in their welfare. She played tennis and croquet with her sisters and brother, wrote letters to distant friends, sewed and sketched.
She was in the morning parlour three weeks after her return home, working on a sketch of the bridge at Gorryham, which she had started from memory, when a footman came to tell her that two gentlemen visitors had arrived and asked to see her father.
‘I told them the Earl was not at home,’ he said. ‘But they say they will wait. Her ladyship is also out, so what am I to do?’
‘Who are they?’ she asked.
‘One of them says he is Lord Moorcroft. I cannot bundle a nobleman out of the door, can I? Not that I would want to, considering the man with him is built like a navvy.’
Lucy’s heart began to beat in her throat. Could it be? If it was, what was he doing with Lord Moorcroft? She had never met his lordship, but she had heard of him. He owned a neighbouring estate and she had heard his name mentioned more than once in connection with railway building. It was undoubtedly why they were here. Was it any part of her duty to intervene? In the absence of her mother, it was. She was the eldest daughter and should stand in for her. ‘Where are they?’ she asked.
‘In the waiting room. I did not know where else to put them. If Lady Luffenham had been at home, I would have shown them into the drawing room.’
‘I will go and speak to them.’ She rose and made her way to the small sitting room beside the front door where uninvited visitors waited to see if they would be granted an interview, people like farmers, business people, his lordship’s steward, those not considered drawing-room visitors. The door to the room was ajar and she could see the navvy as she approached. He had his back to the door and was studying a portrait of her grandfather, which hung above the fireplace. Her step faltered, but then she took her courage in her hands and entered.
‘Good morning, gentlemen. My father is not at home, nor, I am afraid, is my mother. I am Lady Lucinda.’
Myles whirled round and stood looking at her, his head turned slightly sideways as if he could see her better that way. She was dressed in pale blue muslin dotted with white spots. Her hair was simply arranged in ringlets tied back with matching ribbon. His memory had not been at fault: she was beautiful and he loved her. He bowed formally. ‘My lady.’
He was, she noticed, dressed in a grey frockcoat and narrow trousers whose exquisite tailoring could do little to hide his physique. His scarf had given place to a pristine silk cravat. His unruly hair had been smoothed down and he carried a top hat. The change in his appearance startled her so much that, for a moment, she forgot her role.
A slight cough from the other gentleman brought her to her senses and she turned to face him. He was a portly man of middle years with a red face and gingery whiskers, dressed in a brown tailcoat suit and a buff-coloured waistcoat. ‘Lord Moorcroft, I believe.’
‘Yes, my lady and this is…’ He turned to his son.
‘I have already had the pleasure of meeting Lady Lucinda,’ Myles put in quickly. ‘When we were surveying, her ladyship came upon us. Accused us of trespass, as I recall.’
‘Then, my lady, you will know the reason for our visit.’
‘I can guess,’ she said, guessing also that the navvy had gone to a lot of trouble and expense to make a good impression for his visit to the great house. She should at least acknowledge that and treat him accordingly. Knowing what her mother would have done in the circumstances, she turned to the footman, who still hovered in the hall behind her. ‘Watkins, take the gentlemen’s hats, then go to the kitchen and ask for refreshments to be sent to the drawing room.’ Having deposited the hats on a side table in the hall, he disappeared on his errand and she turned back to the visitors. ‘Gentlemen, please come with me.’
She led the way across the hall to the main drawing room. ‘Please sit down.’ She indicated one of the sofas set at right angles to the hearth and seated herself on the other, controlling the shaking of her limbs with an effort. ‘I am sorry you were kept waiting in the vestibule, but as both my father and mother are out, the footman was at a loss to know what to do. I am afraid you will have to make do with me.’
‘That is certainly no hardship,’ Myles said.
‘How long will his lordship be?’ Henry asked.
‘I believe he is on the estate,’ she said. ‘But as to how long he will be, I have no idea. Is the matter urgent?’
‘We should, perhaps, have sent notice of our coming,’ he said, ‘but as we need to conclude our business with the Earl before we can proceed with our plans, we decided to take a chance of catching him at home.’
From that she gathered that they had tried contacting her father and he had been making himself unavailable or refusing to answer letters. ‘Mr Myles is aware of my father’s stance on railways being built on Luffenham land,’ she said.
Henry looked at Myles with an eyebrow cocked. ‘Mr Myles?’ he murmured.
‘Yes,’ Myles said quickly, a mischievous gleam in his eye. ‘Her ladyship was kind enough to enquire my name when we met.’
She did not want to be reminded of that. ‘Perhaps the Earl will be here by the time you have had your refreshment,’ she said, as the footman returned with the tea tray and set it down by her elbow. To Watkins she said, ‘I will see to it. See if you can find Lady Rosemary and ask her to join us.’ If her father came home and found her all alone, dispensing tea to two men, one of whom was certainly not a gentleman, she would be in trouble.
She was gratified to note that Mr Myles’s manners were impeccable, as he sipped tea and made small talk. Coming from him it seemed absurd. His lordship seemed to be enjoying a private joke, for he smiled a lot, no doubt at his young friend’s expense. Of the two, he seemed the more rough and ready, which surprised her. Perhaps that was why her parents had never visited Goodthorpe Manor, nor invited the Moorcrofts to Luffenham Hall. But he intrigued her almost as much as the navvy did.
The footman returned to say he could not find Lady Rosemary and supposed she had gone with the Countess; he had hardly left them when they heard voices and her father entered the room. Both Henry and Myles stood up.
‘Lord Moorcroft. I understand from my footman that you wish to see me?’
‘Yes, my lord. This is—’ He indicated Myles.
‘I know who the young man is. I see my daughter has seen fit to entertain you.’
‘Indeed, yes.’
‘Mama was out,’ Lucy put in. ‘I stood in her stead. The gentlemen said their business was urgent.’
‘Then we had better get on with it. Come to the library, gentlemen, where we can discuss matters more freely.’ And with that he left the room. Lord Moorcroft followed him. Myles looked at Lucy, a broad smile on his face, but he did not speak. She watched him go after the two older men and then sat down again and let out her breath in a long sigh. There was no shaking him off. Wherever she went, he was there. He must have hoped he would see her today and had dressed himself up for the occasion, but it made no difference to her view of him. He was a navvy dressed in the clothes of a gentleman and she would rather he did not pretend to
be something he was not. It did not impress her.
‘Lucy, who have you been entertaining?’ Her mother had entered the room and noticed the used tea cups. She was still wearing her outdoor coat and hat.
‘Two gentlemen who came to see Papa. They are in the library with him now.’
‘Then send for someone to take these things away and bring a fresh pot while I go and take off my hat. I am parched. Old Mrs Whitby offered me tea, but her cups are so stained and chipped I could not bring myself to accept. Besides, the poor dear can hardly afford to keep giving me tea.’ She disappeared without questioning Lucy any further.
She had returned and was enjoying her tea and listening to Lucy’s carefully edited account of what had happened when they heard the visitors leaving and the Earl joined them. The Countess looked up. ‘Have they gone? I am surprised you did not see fit to present his lordship to me.’
‘It was business, Maryanne, and Lord Moorcroft, for all his title, is not a gentleman.’ He turned to Lucy. ‘And I am surprised at you, miss, entertaining them as if they were royalty.’
‘I only did as I thought Mama would have done,’ she protested.
‘You knew that young man was the one who had the temerity to bring Edward Gorridge home on his back.’
‘I did not recognise him, Papa.’
‘No, perhaps not,’ he conceded. ‘He was dressed up like a popinjay and I suppose it did no harm to let Moorcroft see how civilised people behave.’
‘Is he not civilised?’ his wife queried.
‘He is a businessman. He works for his living. Not that he’s done too badly out of it, but he’s not the sort we should be entertaining. His father was the foreman of a cloth mill before he had the luck to marry the mill owner’s daughter. He’s come up in the world, but it doesn’t make him a gentleman. He can’t forget his roots, speaks in the common idiom when he forgets himself and is determined to bring his son up the same way. I hope when Johnny grows up he will conduct himself according to his station in life and not go slumming with his inferiors.’
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