Mary Nichols

by Society Bride Working Man

  She looked about her, but no one seemed to have heard his words or seen what had happened. She smiled. ‘Mr Moorcroft, how nice to see so many of your people here this morning. I wish you all a happy Christmas.’ She spoke clearly, not whispering. After all, she was only being polite. And then she moved on.

  On her return home she hurried up to her room, ostensibly to remove her outdoor clothes, but as soon as she was alone, she shut the door and sat on her bed to read what Myles had written. My Dearest Dear, I cannot resist coming to church to see your sweet face even if I cannot speak to you. This is written in the hope that there will be an opportunity to pass it to you. I beg to remind you of everything we said to each other in Peterborough and that nothing in the world will alter my love for you, unless it be to make it stronger, and you must hold on to that no matter what. With God’s help, a way will be found to overcome all obstacles and we shall be together at last and then nothing and no one will ever part us again. Until then, be strong, my love, and do nothing, promise nothing. Your ever-loving, ever-faithful M.

  She sat for several minutes with tears streaming unchecked down her cheeks. He still loved her, he still thought a way could be found out of their dilemma and she trusted him, but he was a man, used to his independence. Did he realise what it was like for her? Did he understand how torn she was? Not between him and Edward, that was no contest, but between her love for him and her love for her family? Did he know how hard it was for her to stand up to her father, whom she had always revered as someone who was never wrong? Until she met Myles she had always obeyed him. If he said such and such was so, then in her mind it was so. If he said she should marry someone he had chosen, she would not have questioned the right of it. A whole lifetime’s teaching was being overturned because she had fallen in love with Myles Moorcroft.

  ‘Lucy, what are you doing in there?’ Rosemary’s voice called to her. She just had time to scrub at her eyes and push the letter under her pillow before the door opened and her sister came into the room. ‘Goodness, you are still wearing your cloak. I don’t know what’s the matter with you, Lucy. You always seem to be daydreaming. It’s being in love, I suppose.’

  ‘What do you know of it?’ Lucy asked sharply.

  ‘Nothing, but what else could it be? Mr Gorridge is going round with a grin on his face from ear to ear, so I suppose you have given him his answer and we shall soon be congratulating you.’

  ‘I haven’t given him an answer.’

  ‘Well, he doesn’t really need one, does he? No one in their senses would turn down the chance to be mistress of Linwood Park one day.’

  ‘Then I must be out of my senses.’

  ‘Lucy!’ Rosie sat down beside her. ‘You are never going to refuse him.’

  ‘Why not? I do not love him.’

  ‘What is that to the point? Love is nothing weighed against Linwood Park, not to mention a handsome man who will give you everything you could wish for.’

  ‘I wish to be in love with the man I marry.’

  ‘Lucy, Lucy, do not be a ninny. You can’t back out now. Everyone is expecting an announcement. Whatever has got into you? It must be nerves. Mama will give you something for them.’

  ‘Don’t you dare say anything to her. Don’t say a word to anyone. I have to deal with it in my own way.’

  ‘I do not envy you. There will be an unholy row, you know that, don’t you? Lord Gorridge has promised Papa shares in the railway if you marry his son. I heard him telling Mama. He said they would pay huge dividends. He is already out of humour because you have kept Mr Gorridge waiting.’

  ‘So that is the consideration! I am to be sold just like a horse or a cow.’

  ‘What does it matter if everyone is happy.’

  ‘I am not. I am most unhappy.’

  ‘Why, Lucy? Have you developed a tendre for someone else?’ She looked hard into Lucy’s face. ‘You have, haven’t you? Who is it? Someone you met in London?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s never that navvy! Oh, Lucy, tell me it isn’t the navvy.’

  ‘It’s none of your business, and if you breathe a word I shall murder you, I really will.’

  ‘It is the navvy! Papa will hit the roof. You know what he thinks about Lord Moorcroft and his son. Lucy, how can you have fallen for that man? He is uncouth.’

  ‘He is not! Rosie, you know nothing about it, so please do not say anything at all, or we shall have a serious falling-out.’

  Rosemary put her arm round Lucy’s shoulders. ‘I am sorry, Lucy, really I am, but I do not think you should cross Papa. It will upset the whole household. It won’t be so bad being married to Mr Gorridge, will it?’

  ‘It will be dreadful and I can’t do it. Rosie, please support me, I beg of you. One day, when you fall in love yourself, you will understand.’

  ‘If falling in love brings a body to such a sorry state, I think I will give it a miss,’ Rosemary said firmly. ‘But if I can help, I will, but don’t expect me to defy Papa, because I can’t do it.’

  ‘I don’t expect you to. Just lend me a shoulder to cry on.’

  Rosemary chuckled. ‘I’ll do that, but I think you’ve done enough weeping for one day, so take off that cloak and come downstairs. I heard the dinner gong ages ago and we shall be in trouble for being late.’

  They went downstairs together and somehow, having unburdened herself a little, Lucy felt better and managed to endure the meal with her customary smile. The food was sumptuous, the best that money could buy, and lasted a long time.

  It was late afternoon by the time they adjourned to the drawing room to exchange gifts. The Earl had provided something for every guest and the presents Lord and Lady Gorridge had brought were the height of extravagance. Jewellery, perfumes, embroidered canvas and cottons, books and toys for the children. Edward gave Rosemary and Esme pearl brooches and Johnny a sled, which made the boy long for snow. He said he was keeping Lucy’s gift for later and winked at the company, who all laughed. All Lucy could manage was a weak smile.

  The rest of the day was one of jollity, eating and drinking and playing party games. Lucy was always paired with Edward while their respective parents looked hopeful, but the day ended without their hopes being realised. Only her father voiced his disappointment and that was when she was bidding him goodnight after everyone else had gone up to their rooms. He had asked her to stay behind because he wanted to speak to her and she obeyed with some trepidation, guessing what was coming.

  ‘Have you given Gorridge his answer?’

  ‘No, Papa, it hasn’t been mentioned. There has been no opportunity.’

  ‘You should have made the opportunity. Well, I will tell you this, my girl, if you do not come to me with some positive news by the day of the ball, I shall make the announcement notwithstanding.’

  She gasped. ‘Papa, you wouldn’t? Supposing he has changed his mind and does not ask me again?’

  ‘He doesn’t need to. You have only to see him and hear him to know he is expecting you to say yes. Nor is he such a fool as to go against parental wishes.’

  ‘Why does Viscount Gorridge wish it so much?’

  ‘Do you need to ask? You are the daughter of an earl, a good-looking chit and an asset to any young man. And what could be better than two great houses united by marriage? Now, go to bed and think of what I have said. And remember this—I can, and will, make life very uncomfortable for you if you cross me.’ He waved his hand in dismissal.

  She curtsied and left him. Alone in her room, she realised she had let slip the opportunity to tell him she meant to refuse Mr Gorridge. But would he have accepted her decision? She doubted it. He might even lock her in her room until she came to her senses—is that what he had meant about making life uncomfortable? If he did that, how was she to let Myles know what was happening? She reached under her pillow, drew Myles’s letter out and read it over and over again, until she fell into an exhausted sleep.

  The next morning was still bitterly cold and the lawns
and bare branches were bedecked with frost, but the sun was shining. Everyone was up early to get ready for the Boxing Day hunt, but Lucy was downstairs before them, dressed in an old velvet riding habit that was warmer than her new one. She ate her breakfast in the kitchen as she liked to do and asked Mrs Lavender to provide a basket of food to take to the village children, along with a few presents, such as warm scarves and gloves she had collected for them. She did it every year and her mother approved, so there was no need to hide what she was doing. This year, she had extra goodies intended for the navvy children.

  Putting a riding cloak over her habit, she set off on Midge, but instead of returning home after she had seen all the deserving village families, she passed the Hall gates and turned to the path that led behind the house and up on to the hill. Perhaps Myles would be there. She longed to see him again; he would prop up her courage and give her the strength to refuse Mr Gorridge’s proposal and face the wrath of her father. On the other hand, she knew he had planned to spend Christmas at home with his family and no doubt had returned to them immediately after church the day before.

  She paused a moment at the top of the rise to look down on the scene below her. It was very different from what it had been two months before. The hutted encampment was an established feature, the new railway line gleamed in the sun. There were trucks half-filled, but no one was at work and there was no sign of Myles. There were children running about, making for a large hut that Matty O’Malley had pointed out as the place they went to for lessons. They were poorly clad for such bitter weather and she was glad she had raided the trunk in the attics where the clothes she and her sisters and brother had worn as children had been stored away.

  She urged her horse down the slope. Having no chaperon to hold her back, she rode right into the encampment before dismounting. Some of the children saw her and ran to greet her. She stooped to speak to them all; when she straightened up, she found herself face-to-face with Myles. He was smiling broadly. ‘Lucy, what brings you here?’

  She was smiling herself, mostly with relief that she would be able to tell him of her father’s ultimatum. Stolen moments together were few and far between and, though they had an audience of several dozen children, it was as if they were alone. They searched each other’s faces for signs of change and were both relieved to find nothing but love mirrored on the other’s features, though he noticed she looked more than usually troubled. ‘Has something happened?’

  She looked round at the children all clamouring to tell her their news and decided it was not the time to voice her woes. ‘No, nothing has happened. I came to give a few things to the children.’ She indicated the basket on her pommel.

  ‘Then you are doubly welcome. But should you be here?’

  ‘I am on a charitable errand and it is Christmas after all, the season of goodwill. I am sure Mama would not forbid me to help the children in such bitter weather. I thought they might appreciate some warm clothes. I have a few toys, spinning tops, rag dolls, penny whistles, things like that.’

  He lifted the basket down. ‘Then come into the warm before you freeze to death. You can give them to the children yourself and help us to celebrate Christmas.’ He turned to the children. ‘What do you say, my friends? Shall we invite Lady Lucinda to our party?’

  ‘Yes! Yes!’ they chorused. Two of them dragged on her hands and propelled her towards the hut they had been making for when she arrived. Myles followed, carrying the basket.

  Inside there was a huge fire in the stove and the room was decorated with greenery and coloured bunting. The middle of the floor had been cleared and some navvy women supervised a table on one side of it, which groaned with food: pies and chicken legs, roast potatoes and fruit. ‘Coals to Newcastle,’ Lucy murmured.

  ‘Did you think they would be in want?’ Myles asked.

  ‘No, for I know the men are well paid, but one hears such tales of them having to wait weeks for their pay and—’

  ‘Not on Moorcroft lines, Lucy, surely you knew that.’

  ‘Yes, I knew it.’ She smiled. ‘I expect I just wanted an excuse to visit, though I didn’t think you would be here.’

  He laughed. ‘I came on the same errand as you, trying to brighten their Christmas festivities with coals and vegetables to make hot soup, considering the weather is so cold. Let me introduce you to the ladies. Mrs O’Malley, Mrs Greenock, Mrs Bates. Lady Lucinda has come to help us entertain the children,’ he told them.

  They curtsied, looking uncomfortable. Lucy felt she must do something to put them at their ease. She smiled and turned to the children. ‘Have you ever played charades?’

  They looked blankly at her so, watched by an amused Myles, she explained how the game was played, using children’s rhymes as examples. ‘If you want to dress up, I’ve brought some dressing-up clothes,’ she said, pointing to her basket. They might be offended by charity, but if the clothes were part of the game, they would enjoy wearing them and she could always leave them behind when she left.

  Myles, watching her, was filled with tenderness towards her. She was so good with the children, establishing a rapport with them that other ladies of her rank could not have managed in a thousand years because they did not know how to unbend, to meet the children on their own terms. He joined in the fun and they laughed a great deal as the game progressed, but he could not rid himself of the idea that something was worrying her and could not wait to find out what it was.

  The opportunity came when she suddenly realised she had been away from home almost three hours and it was time she left. He helped her on with her cloak and accompanied her to where one of his men had been looking after Midge. Taking the reins, he led the animal while she walked beside him.

  ‘Lucy, did you read my note?’

  ‘Yes, many, many times. I have it by heart.’

  ‘I have talked to my mother. She is going to call on Lady Luffenham in the New Year.’ He did not add that she was surprisingly reluctant.

  ‘I fear it will be too late.’

  ‘Too late?’ He grabbed her hand and turned her to face him. ‘You don’t mean you have accepted Gorridge?’

  ‘No. I have until New Year’s Eve to do so.’

  ‘Lucy, you aren’t going to, are you?’ He searched her face and noted the tears glistening on her lashes. ‘Please say you won’t do anything so foolish. He is not the man for you.’

  ‘It won’t make much difference what I say. Papa says he’ll announce the engagement anyway.’

  ‘How can a father who is supposed to love his daughter do anything so cruel?’

  ‘He doesn’t think he is cruel, he thinks he is doing it for my own good because I don’t know my own mind. He says he will make life very uncomfortable for me if I refuse.’

  ‘We’ve got to get you out of it. I’ll talk to Gorridge, persuade him to withdraw his offer.’ Just because he had decided not to tell Lucy about Lottie, did not mean he could not use that to try to persuade Gorridge to forget about marrying Lucy. It was a faint hope, but worth a try.

  She gave a cracked laugh. ‘He is more obedient than I am. He will never go against his father.’

  ‘But I must try that first. The alternative is to take you away from there.’

  ‘Elope, you mean? You said you would not do that.’

  ‘I would if there was no other help for it.’

  ‘But where would we go? What would we do? We can’t hide for ever and Papa is bound to come after us. Myles, oh, Myles, I think this must be goodbye.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Yes. It is for the best.’ She had suddenly realised the consequences if they eloped. Not only would she be ostracised by society, so would he. His business would suffer. His plans for his future, of being even more successful than his father, of bettering the lot of the working man, of his campaign to educate the children of itinerant workers, would all collapse around him because no one of any note would ever listen to anything he had to say. And it would break his mother’s heart. She could
not ask that sacrifice of him.

  ‘You don’t mean it. Lucy, you cannot mean it. All the plans we made, our love for each other, cannot count for nothing.’

  She swallowed hard. ‘They do not count for nothing, Myles. I shall always think of you with great affection, but that is not enough for me to abandon my family.’

  ‘Lucy!’ He grabbed her by the shoulders, too frustrated to be gentle. ‘I do not believe you. You’ve been got at.’

  ‘No, Myles. It is my decision. Please let me go.’

  He dropped his hands and watched as she scrambled up into the saddle and cantered off. He stood watching her disappear over the brow of the hill, too numb to think clearly. For a big, hardened man, he was as near to tears as he was ever likely to be. He kicked savagely at a stone and watched it roll all the way down the hill to the encampment. Then he sank to the ground, put his head in his hands and groaned aloud. He was still there when the hunt came hallooing over the brow of the hill after the fox. The hounds chased their quarry into the navvy encampment, scattering screaming children, barking dogs and burly men and wreaking havoc among the huts.

  Lucy rode home in abject misery. Love was beautiful and sweet, but when it could never be declared, never consummated, it was nothing but the bitterest heartbreak. But she had had to say what she did, for his dear sake. She could not ask him to cut himself off from his family any more than she liked the idea of being ostracised by her own. They might brazen it out for a while, but the tension would make itself felt in the end and they would find themselves quarrelling. And there would be no escape from what they had done. Myles had known that, which was why he had not protested more strongly.

  She hardly knew the direction Midge was taking; the mare clopped at a steady walk, finding her own way home. She handed her over to a groom and went indoors and up to her room without encountering her mother, who would undoubtedly ask her where she had been. She changed out of her habit into a day gown of amber grosgrain but, unwilling to go down and join the rest of the ladies who had not gone hunting, she sat on the window seat, gazing out across the park.