Mary Nichols

by Society Bride Working Man

‘Oh, Edward, I beg of you not to provoke him,’ his mother put in. ‘He is such a big man and no doubt he has a temper, too.’

  ‘Oh, I do not intend to fight him, Mama,’ Edward said. ‘We have an outstanding wager, which he promised to fulfil when the line came through. He has bet me he can lift twenty tons of earth into a wagon in one working day and I mean to stand over him while he does it. He’ll be given no opportunity to arrange for help.’

  Lucy wanted to protest that Myles would never cheat, but held her peace. She would learn more by simply listening.

  ‘Does he really work alongside the navvies?’ Lady Gorridge asked.

  ‘He says he does, but I have yet to see it.’

  ‘Are you speaking of that man who came here with Lord Moorcroft?’ the Countess wanted to know. ‘I thought he was his lordship’s son.’

  ‘So he is,’ her husband answered her. ‘I told you the family were not acceptable in polite circles, didn’t I? Now you know why.’ He looked hard at Lucy, reminding her that he had forbidden her to speak to Myles again.

  ‘Oh, dear, shall we be expected to entertain him again?’

  ‘Certainly not!’ He turned to Lady Gorridge. ‘You need have no fear, my lady, neither he nor his men will be allowed anywhere near the house. You will be perfectly safe, so long as you do not venture out of the grounds without an escort. I had hoped they might not reach here before your visit, but they have apparently made good time. Now they are here, the sooner they get on with their work and leave, the better.’

  Anyone would think Myles Moorcroft was a monster, Lucy thought, and was tempted to defend him, but the look her father had given her had spoken volumes, so she bit her tongue and they continued their conversation, unaware that she was seething inside.

  ‘I had heard they live in the ground in burrows, like rabbits,’ Dorothea said.

  Edward laughed. ‘Breed like them, too, you know.’

  ‘Edward!’ His mother was shocked. ‘That is hardly a subject for the dinner table. There are young ladies present.’

  The Countess rose. ‘Ladies, I think we will leave the men to talk,’ she said. ‘I am sure we can find a more edifying subject for our conversation in the drawing room.’ She left the room, followed by Lady Gorridge, Dorothea, Rosemary and Lucy, who went reluctantly. If she could not see Myles and talk to him, she wanted to hear about him, even if what was being said was not complimentary. She minded very much about that on his behalf and she was glad he could not hear it.

  Did the navvies really live in holes in the ground? she asked herself, as her mother dispensed tea and began talking about an intricate piece of embroidery she was engaged upon. Surely they did not bring wives and children to the works to live like that? But they would need their wives to cook and clean and darn their clothes, wouldn’t they? She meant to find out and, if conditions were as bad as that, she would defy her father and confront Myles to do something about it. She had no idea how she could do that, nor if he would take any notice if she did. But it would be an excuse to see him, to see if he changed his character as well as his clothes when he worked among his men. Would he be rough and coarse and lacking in manners?

  ‘Lucy, whatever are you daydreaming about?’ her mother asked. ‘You haven’t heard a word I said.’

  ‘Sorry, Mama. I was wondering if I would be allowed to go riding. Midge will get fat and lazy if I cannot ride her.’

  ‘I am sure Edward will be pleased to escort you,’ Lady Gorridge put in. ‘You do not need to go near the works, do you?’

  ‘No, there are other places,’ she said, resigning herself to riding with Edward.

  The men joined them and it appeared the subject of the railway had been exhausted because it was not mentioned again and the evening was spent making music and reciting poetry. Edward proclaimed a speech from Shakespeare as if he were in a huge theatre, making Lucy want to laugh. She controlled herself with an effort to sing a duet with Rosemary and then someone suggested dancing. To do that they went into the hall where the marble floor lent itself to dancing better than the carpet of the drawing room.

  Lucy wanted to play for the others, but that suggestion was vetoed and it was Rosemary who sat down at the piano. Inevitably Lucy found herself dancing a waltz with Edward. She tried imagining it was Myles, but that did not work because Myles was so big and broad, and though Edward was by no means short, he was slimly built and paradoxically nothing like as light on his feet.

  ‘Mama has told me you would like to go riding tomorrow,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, Midge needs exercise.’

  ‘Then I shall be happy to accompany you. You can show me round the estate. Is it really as extensive as Linwood?’

  ‘I really do not know its dimensions. I have a rough idea of its boundaries and that most of it has been in the family hundreds of years. Papa is very proud of that.’

  ‘And it will all go to your brother one day?’

  She wondered why he asked. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Linwood will be mine. But you knew that, didn’t you?’

  ‘I hadn’t given it a thought.’

  He laughed. ‘I don’t believe you. I am sure your mama and papa have been at pains to tell you so.’

  ‘Yes, but that doesn’t mean I spend my time thinking about it.’

  ‘Then you should.’

  ‘Why?’ Asking that was a mistake—she knew it as soon as the word was out.

  ‘You have been brought up in luxury, nothing smaller that Luffenham would contain you, so it behoves you to look for a husband who can provide its equivalent and that without the enticement of a dowry.’

  ‘I am sure I have not considered marriage in such mercenary terms. I must love the man I marry.’

  He threw back his head and laughed, making everyone in the room look towards them and smile indulgently. ‘Oh, Lucy, you are such a romantic. But it won’t do, you know, it won’t do at all. You would soon tire of a penniless lover.’

  ‘He might not be penniless.’

  ‘He soon would be, if you tried marrying against Lord Luffenham’s wishes. He is a powerful man, your father. And you wouldn’t even have a dowry to subsist on.’

  ‘Papa would never withhold that.’

  ‘Did you not know?’ he queried lightly. ‘There is no dowry. Your papa cannot afford one.’

  She gaped at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. He was laughing again and that made her stiffen her spine and refuse to rise to his bait. ‘Then I should be sure the man whom I married, married me for love and not for money,’ she snapped.

  ‘Oh, I agree that money isn’t everything,’ he said, still laughing. ‘There is land and breeding and consequence. The Earl of Luffenham could be as poor as a church mouse, but he would still be the Earl of Luffenham and his daughters would still be the daughters of an earl.’

  ‘Yes, but a poor man, whether he was an earl or not, could not afford the upkeep of somewhere like Luffenham Hall, so there is no point in making comments like that.’

  ‘No point at all,’ he said, whirling her round as Rosemary brought the music to an end. He offered her his arm to return her to her seat beside her mother, who was smiling happily to see Lucy apparently on good terms with Edward. She had no idea what the two had been talking about and Lucy did not enlighten her.

  Lucy herself was puzzled by what Edward had said. He seemed to be hinting that her father was in financial difficulties, but she did not see how that could be. They lived at the same standard they always had. They ate well when alone and extravagantly when there were guests. She had no idea how much their clothes cost because all the bills were sent to her father and, though he might occasionally grumble, he never refused to pay them. The horses, the carriages, the guns were the best money could buy. The Luffenham cellar and the Earl’s hospitality were renowned throughout the county and beyond. On the other hand, that snatch of conversation between her parents she had overheard made her wonder if things were not as comfortable as appeared on the surface. And h
er father’s solution seemed to be to marry her off for a consideration! She wondered what it was. Just how much was she worth in monetary terms? Oh, how angry that made her.

  She would have liked to have ridden alone the following morning, but could see no way of bringing that about, especially as Edward was already at the breakfast table when she went downstairs. He was dressed, as she was, ready to go riding. They bade each other good morning and made desultory comments about the weather while they ate their breakfast and then went out to the stables where their horses were being readied.

  A few minutes later they were riding across the park towards the belt of trees that screened Luffenham Hall from the north-east wind. Beyond that they came to open countryside, most of it farmland, but it was criss-crossed with bridleways that led up to grazing land on the higher slopes. ‘You can see most of the Luffenham estate from here,’ she said as they reached the highest ground. ‘These pastures, the farms, the village, all belong to it, except the church and the Glebe Farm. A cousin of my father’s has the living.’

  ‘Is he a member of the hunting, shooting and fishing fraternity or one of the hellfire-and-brimstone brigade?’

  ‘Neither to excess. He takes the middle ground.’

  He looked about him. ‘I expected to see the railway works.’

  ‘That’s on the other side of the village, not visible from here.’

  ‘I should like to go there.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You know why. I have business with Moorcroft.’

  ‘I am not sure I should encourage that by taking you there.’ The prospect of seeing Myles again would have been a delightful one if she had not been accompanied by Edward. Myles would jump to quite the wrong conclusion.

  He laughed. ‘Oh, Lucy, you goose, your encouragement or lack of it would make no difference. The wager has been made and will not be unmade, at least, not by me. All I wish to do is settle the details. I will find my own way if you do not choose to come.’

  Normally she gave little thought to her title, but she hated his familiarity; it was as if they were already betrothed and, considering he had not even asked her and given her the opportunity to refuse him, it annoyed her. ‘Then the best way is back through the village.’ She set off in that direction.

  It was a small village with the usual buildings and businesses. There was a mill, a blacksmith, a cobbler, a shop that sold everything from candles and twine to flour and tea and several cottages grouped around a village green. On the only crossroads stood the Plough, which had once been a thriving coaching inn and had accommodation for several horses, but was far less busy than it used to be. She pointed out the church, Glebe Farm and Home Farm, which she noted looked neglected. The paint was peeling from the windows and the outbuildings looked decidedly tumbledown. No wonder her father had said his tenant had been asking him about repairs. The railway company money was going to pay for those, but where did she come into it? She did not want to conjecture.

  Edward followed as she rode through the village and past the gates of Luffenham Hall. After a while they came to a bridle path going up beside the wall of the estate and they turned on to that, following the wall until the track divided. ‘That way leads round to the other side of the house,’ she said, pointing to the left. ‘We go this way. It’s quicker than taking the road.’ She turned right and rode up the hill; once at the top, they could look down on the valley where the navvies worked.

  They were already, only a day after their arrival, making inroads in the opposite hill, digging out a cutting. There were hundreds of them, working in a kind of frenzied unison. A temporary line had been laid from the crossing on the lane to where they worked so that empty wagons drawn by horses could be brought up and filled with soil, which was taken away to be dumped elsewhere. There were huts dotted about, too, with smoking stove-pipe chimneys. Washing lines had been strung up and children played in the dirt. She could not believe all this had happened in the space of twenty-four hours.

  She saw him before Edward did. He was so tall, his curly head stood out above the others, but even without that, she would have known him. She was so attuned to him and his presence, her eyes were drawn almost involuntarily to where he was. Standing in the doorway of one of the huts, he was dressed in a working man’s moleskin trousers, an open-necked shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a gaudy red-and-green striped waistcoat, the traditional garb of the navvy.

  ‘There he is,’ Edward said, spotting him. ‘He doesn’t seem to be doing his share of digging.’

  ‘Someone has to oversee what they are doing.’

  ‘Let’s go down and challenge him.’ He dug in his spurs and set off down the hill at a gallop. Lucy hesitated, knowing she would be disobeying her father, but she needed to know what was going to happen; if Edward was with her, she did not suppose Papa would grumble about it. She followed, but, having more consideration for her horse, cantered down at a less bruising pace.

  She heard Edward call out, ‘Moorcroft, good day to you’ as he pulled up in front of Myles and slipped from the saddle.

  ‘Gorridge.’ Myles had not known the man was at Luffenham and had not expected to come across him again until he was on Gorridge land. He looked up and saw Lucy riding over the bridge and his eyes lit up at the sight of her. Hastily he rolled down his sleeves and did up the top button of his shirt. ‘My lady.’ Ignoring Edward, his eyes were on her, searching her face, trying to read something in her expression that would tell him how she was and if anything had changed.

  ‘Mr Moorcroft.’ She did not dismount. ‘You have made a start, I see. I did not realise it would take so many men.’

  ‘The more we have, my lady, the quicker we work and the quicker we work the sooner we shall be off Lord Luffenham’s land and the sooner the railway will be in operation. Six weeks, perhaps two months, and we shall be gone.’ He wanted to say more, to speak privately to her, but that was impossible with Gorridge watching and his own men looking on with open curiosity.

  ‘Then what about that wager we had?’ Edward said. ‘Not backing out, are you?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘Then all I want to know is when you are going to prove your boast.’

  ‘Any day you like. I shall be here until we move on to Gorridge land and we shall be several weeks there, so you may take your pick.’

  ‘Tell me,’ Edward said, ‘how long is a working day?’

  ‘It depends on what needs doing and the state of the contract, but for the sake of this wager, shall we say seven until seven?’

  ‘Very well.’ He turned to Lucy. ‘Lucy, my dear, what entertainments have been arranged for us this week?’

  Again that use of her given name, and she saw Myles’s eyebrows raised quizzically. ‘I believe Papa has arranged some shooting on two of the days, and if the weather remains mild we are all going to make an excursion to the abbey ruins on Tuesday. It is sheltered among the old walls and there are some magnificent views. And on Friday there is to be a formal dinner for some of Mama and Papa’s friends in the neighbourhood.’

  ‘Then shall we say Thursday?’ Edward suggested.

  ‘As you wish.’

  ‘I shall be here at seven on Thursday morning to see you begin and there will be someone watching you all day, so do not think of recruiting help. Perhaps we should have a referee. I’ve a mind to ask the parson. Lucy tells me he always takes the middle ground.’

  ‘That is acceptable to me,’ Myles said. ‘But filling a wagon requires two men. I need a mate.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘Want to have a go yourself?’

  ‘Certainly not! I do not pretend to be a labouring man. Find your own man.’ It was said with scorn.

  ‘Very well. The navvies themselves will judge whether the wagon is full.’

  ‘And the parson will say how much of it is down to you.’ Edward held out his hand, which Myles shook. ‘Until Thursday.’ He heaved himself into the saddle. ‘Come, Lucy, my dear.’

  She looked at Myles, but his face
betrayed nothing of what he was thinking. ‘Good day, my lady,’ he said, touching his forelock in the manner of a peasant while giving her a lopsided smile. ‘Until we meet again.’

  She did not answer, but rode after Edward, more confused than ever. Myles seemed to have forgotten he was a gentleman and had reverted to being the navvy, sleeping in a hut like all the other men, rolling up his shirtsleeves and digging alongside them, getting hot and dirty. Of the two sides of his nature he had spoken of, he seemed to prefer the common labourer. Did he think she would also prefer it? Was he making a statement with those rough clothes? ‘This is me. Take me as you find me.’ Or was he not trying to tell her anything at all and she was simply reading more into his words and actions than he intended?

  He watched her ride after Gorridge and ached to call her back, to take her into his arms and tell her that he loved her. But was it too late? Was she already engaged to that popinjay? He must see her and find out. He turned to see Joe Masters laughing beside him. ‘What is amusing you, my friend?’

  ‘The scrapes you manage to get yourself into, lad. When did you last do a whole twelve-hour shift?’

  ‘I don’t know, not so long ago.’

  ‘A couple of years at least. If you are not careful, you will have to own yourself bested by that…’ He nodded in the direction of the disappearing horseman.

  ‘Not I. I have the rest of the week to get back into shape, beginning now. Fetch me a shovel.’ He could dig and lift, dig and lift, and at the same time decide how he could see Lucy and talk to her. The railway contract had been signed; his father’s strictures about holding back no longer applied, or they would not in a few weeks’ time. He must convince her that he loved her, wanted to marry her and could amply provide for her; if she loved him, as he hoped she did, she would face up to her father and refuse Edward Gorridge, who was not the man for her.

  He had begun work late, but by the time the men stopped for the night he was aching in every muscle. If he was to carry on the following day, he could not take the long ride home. He stayed in the hut of the man he had asked to be his digging mate. Pat O’Malley had been a navvy ever since he came over from Ireland as a young man twenty years before, first on the canals, but lately on railways. He was not particularly tall but he had a wiry strength and could easily match Myles spade for spade, as most of the really good navvies could. He had brought his wife and family with him and his first task before lifting a single turf had been to build a hut for them.