‘Except covet his daughter.’
‘He knows nothing of that. Lucy will not tell him. She is so afraid of him, she says she won’t see me again.’
‘Oh, dear,’ his mother said. ‘Do you think she means it?’
‘I think so. I had hoped I might persuade Lord Luffenham to look favourably on a match, but after today, I know that is a vain hope. I have made an implacable enemy of him.’
‘Not your fault, boy,’ his father said. ‘Mine.’
‘Yours?’
‘Yes. It goes back a long way.’ He looked at his wife. ‘Shall I tell him?’
She nodded. Myles looked from one to the other and waited.
‘It was when we were young,’ his lordship said. ‘I was making my way in the world and doing well for myself, enough to break into some social circles, but not all. There was, and I suppose always will be, a core of old-fashioned gentry who cannot abide to see a man getting rich by the sweat of his brow. They set great store by breeding and inherited wealth and I had neither. It did not matter to your mother. I met her at a charity ball where the upper crust allow themselves to mix with us lesser mortals. The long and the short of it was that we fell in love. The trouble was that she was being courted by John Luffenham. I knew John—Viscount Vernley he was then, because the old Earl was still alive—and he did not take kindly to being rejected. Everyone put pressure to bear on your mother until we were both in despair, but fortunately Viscount Porson was a loving and generous father and in the end agreed to have me for a son-in-law and Luffenham had to accept it. He married the present Countess a year or two later, and as far as I know the marriage has been a successful one.’
‘Then he has no reason to complain.’
‘Old grudges die hard, Myles. Since then we have prospered and he has not, mostly because of poor investments, and he cannot forgive me. He was never very astute and he won’t give up his extravagant lifestyle in order to retrench.’
‘No wonder you were reluctant to call on Lady Luffenham when I suggested it, Mama.’
‘Oh, I do not think Lady Luffenham knows anything of it,’ she said. ‘I was afraid I might come across John. I had hoped he might have forgotten what had happened all those years ago, but his recent behaviour towards you and your papa has convinced me that he hasn’t. I would have done it for you. I will still go, if you think it will help.’
‘No, my dear, I will not have you humiliated,’ her husband said. ‘You will stay out of it.’
‘Yes, Mama,’ Myles agreed. ‘I shall have to think of something else. I could be patient and wait for things to calm down, but for the fact the Earl is determined to announce Lucy’s engagement to Edward Gorridge at the New Year ball he is holding and I do not know if she is strong enough to stand up to him.’
‘Why is he so keen on the match with Gorridge?’ her ladyship asked.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Viscount Gorridge is as rich as Croesus and anxious to settle his son,’ Henry explained. ‘The lad is a great trial to him. He has been obliged to pay off so many pregnant servants the whole county will soon be populated by young Gorridges, none of whom will be acknowledged. And there have been one or two in the upper echelons of society too and that has all had to be hushed up….’
‘Good God!’ Myles was appalled. ‘I caught him with one of the girls from the works a few weeks ago, but I never dreamed it was as bad as that. I’ve got to do something and quickly. I offered to take Lucy away with or without her father’s consent, but she would not hear of it.’
‘No, of course she wouldn’t,’ his mother said. ‘It would be social suicide for both of you. I think you should settle this business of the damage to the works first, then we shall have to put our heads together to persuade Lord Luffenham to change his mind.’
‘Pay the compensation yourself,’ his father advised him. ‘Tell the men Luffenham stumped up after all. That way you’ll restore peace. How long before you move off Luffenham land?’
‘Another ten days, if the weather holds.’
‘Then hold your fire until then. If the little lady is worth her mettle, she will wait for you.’
It was sound advice; as he could do nothing that night in any case, he spent the rest of the evening going over the railway accounts and planning the last stage of the line to Leicester, which had given him so much heartache and yet so much happiness, meeting Lucy and realising there could be no other wife for him. She was everything to him. Without her he did not see how he could go on living and breathing, working and sleeping. She had said goodbye. She hadn’t meant it, had she?
Lucy had meant it, though it had broken her heart to say it. Before the trouble between the navvies and the hunt, she had hoped to reconcile her father to the idea that she wanted to marry Myles, but now she knew he would never countenance it. In a way it was a pity she could not be more like Rosemary and not care so much. But she did care—she cared so much her head and heart ached. Her mother, realising that all was not well with her eldest daughter, came to her room and sat on the edge of her bed, stroking her brow.
‘Lucy, dearest, you must not take everything so much to heart. Papa will relent and pay for the damage. We shall be in no danger.’
She gave a cracked laugh. ‘I am in no danger from the navvies, Mama. They like me.’
‘Because you take them food and warm clothing?’
‘Yes.’
‘Lucy, I am sorry for the children down there, I truly am, and if we can do anything to make them more comfortable, then it is our Christian duty to do so. But matters have gone too far now.’
‘I have never said this before, nor ever even thought it, but I think Papa is wrong.’
‘You must not question your father, Lucy.’
‘I can’t help it. When I think of those poor children surrounded by a whole pack of hounds I want to scream at him for being so unfeeling. I wonder what he would have done if I had been down there or Johnny. He would have called the hounds off then, wouldn’t he?’
‘That’s different.’
‘No, it isn’t, it is exactly the same. And I was down there half an hour before.’
‘Lucy!’
‘Yes, Mama, I was. I was playing games with the children. They were having a Christmas party. Mr Moorcroft organised it for them. And before you ask, I did speak to him. We talked a long time.’
‘Lucy, I am appalled that you should have so far forgotten your duty of obedience.’
‘I didn’t forget it and I tried to obey, but Mr Moorcroft is a true gentleman and I could not be uncivil to him, could I? I cannot understand what Papa has against him.’
‘No doubt he has a very good reason for it and we must not question it.’ She stood up and straightened the cover where she had been sitting. ‘Now I must go back to our guests. Try to sleep, Lucy, and try not to worry. The workmen’s children are very resilient. They will come to no harm.’
‘They have to be,’ Lucy murmured as the door shut on her mother.
Not only was the Earl not going to shut everyone up in the house for fear of attacks, he was going to take the hunt out again. ‘We’ll go up on the abbey hill for a change,’ he said at breakfast time. ‘Edward said he saw a vixen there yesterday. We’ll try to run her down.’
‘I am afraid my wife insists on being taken home,’ Mr Ashbury told him. ‘And to tell the truth, I feel inclined to go. The sky is leaden and I think it will snow before long and we do not want to risk being cut off from home if the roads become impassable.’
Several other guests, who had a distance to travel, agreed with him and there was a flurry of activity as bags were packed and carriages sent for.
By mid-morning, only Lord and Lady Gorridge and Edward remained. Lucy wished heartily that they would go, too, but there was no hope of that while Edward still waited for his answer. She was afraid that if the roads did become impassable, they would be at Luffenham for days, even weeks. And how could she endure it?
‘Well, are we going
hunting that vixen or not?’ Edward asked, as the first few flakes of snow drifted down.
The Earl was reluctant to forgo his day’s hunting. It was a matter of honour to him to fulfil his promise to his remaining guests and so he set off with Lord Gorridge, Edward and Rosemary, and two of the grooms to swell their numbers. Lucy waited until they had gone and her mother and Lady Gorridge were gossiping in the morning parlour beside a large fire, before changing into her old habit and wrapping herself in her warm cloak and making her way out to the stables.
Only Andrew was there, sweeping the yard. Already his coat was dotted with wet snowflakes. ‘My lady, the men went half an hour ago, you’ll never catch them now. And you oughtn’t to go out alone. You never know what them there navvies will get up to.’
‘I shall be quite safe, Andrew. I am not going far. Just a little gallop to give Midge some exercise. If the snow becomes very thick in the next day or two, she won’t be taken out at all.’
Reluctantly he saddled the mare and helped Lucy to mount. She rode out of the yard and made her way along a path that went past the kitchen garden and the glasshouses, where the gardener tended the tropical flowers and fruit her mother liked so much, to a gate in the rear wall of the grounds. From there it was an easy ride up to the crest of the hill and then down to the navvy encampment. In a bag on her pommel were two cold roast chickens and some bread hot from the oven. It also contained a purse in which she had put every penny she possessed and some jewellery she had not worn for some time, which she intended to give to Mrs O’Malley. She had no idea what it was worth, but hoped the gesture was enough to appease the men.
The men should have been back at work, but it was obvious to Lucy, when she topped the rise, that no work was being done, except repairing and rebuilding the huts. The wagons stood empty on the rails, the horses were tethered in a line, stamping and snorting, their breath like steam in the cold air. She sat watching it for a moment before descending, going carefully because the snow was making the slope treacherous. She was met by Myles, who had been in one of the huts fixing the windows when he saw her.
She had come back! She had changed her mind and it was not goodbye after all. He hurried to help her dismount. ‘Lucy, you should not have come in this weather, but, oh, how glad I am to see you.’
The sight of his dear face, lit with pleasure, made her feel weak as a kitten. She almost said she would stay with him for ever and never go back, but then she remembered the reasons why she had told him they must part and they had not changed. She stiffened her spine and faced him, head held high. ‘I came to see if I could help…’
‘Bless you for that, but there was no need. The men will soon have the huts rebuilt and we can start work again. That is, if the weather lets us.’ He looked up at the sky. It was black all round. ‘I had hoped to be off Luffenham land in a week or so.’
‘I brought this.’ She delved into the basket on her saddle and fetched out her purse. ‘It’s not much, but it might forestall the men marching on my home.’ She took his hand and tipped the contents into his palm.
He stared down at the handful of coins, the small ruby necklace, two or three brooches, some pearls and matching eardrops easily contained in his big hand and then looked into her face. It was colourless, except for two bright pink spots on her cheeks. Her lovely green eyes had lost their lustre and betrayed her determination. She had not come to tell him she had changed her mind, but to stop his men attacking the Hall. And with a pittance. ‘Oh, Lucy, the men will not take these from you.’
‘Is it not enough? I was afraid it wouldn’t be.’
He did not know what to say. He loved her all the more for trying. ‘It is more than enough, but they will not take it from you. They like you. They would never harm a hair of your head.’
‘But you threatened Papa. I heard you myself in the stable yard.’
He had not known she was anywhere in the vicinity, but it would not have made any difference if he had. At the time he was too angry to think clearly. His anger had not been directed at her, but at her father. He was still fuming. ‘I am sorry for that, but the men have been placated for the moment and, for your sake, they will do nothing.’
‘Has my father paid them compensation after all?’
‘Let us say they have been compensated.’ He accepted the food, but put the trinkets back in her purse and tucked it into the bag on her saddle. ‘Now please, Lucy, let me take you home. If it snows any harder, the path will be obliterated and you could wander about the hill all day.’
‘Midge knows her way home.’
‘Nevertheless I will come with you. At least until we are in sight of the Hall.’ He beckoned to one of the men to bring his horse and then helped her into the saddle, wrapping her cloak as closely round her as he could. ‘Come, sweetheart, let’s get you home.’
‘The weather is bad for the work, isn’t it?’ she said as they rode. It wasn’t what she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him how much she still loved him, how she wished things could be different, how she would follow him to the ends of the earth, through snow or rain or baking heat, and would defy anyone to part them, but that was weakness, she told herself, and she had to be strong.
‘Yes, if it goes on for any length of time it could delay the completion of the line and that is bad for the shareholders, who cannot see a return on their money until the line is in operation.’ It wasn’t what he wanted to talk about, either. He wanted to beg her to change her mind and agree to marry him no matter the opposition, but his mother had agreed that Lucy was right and, dammit, he knew they were right.
‘Does that mean you will lose over it?’
‘No, Moorcroft’s can stand the loss of a few days, but I fear it might be the ruin of other companies where the finance is not so rock solid and the navvies not so loyal.’
‘They are loyal because you treat them well.’
‘It pays in the long run.’
‘And their loyalty will not let them go against you and march on the Hall, no matter what my father has done.’
‘I sincerely hope so.’ He paused and added softly, ‘It is not the only hope I have.’
She had to take a great gulp of air into her lungs before she could make herself speak. ‘Please don’t. It will only make it harder.’
‘Then will you promise me one thing? Will you promise me you will not accept Gorridge? While you are free, I shall continue to hope.’
‘I promise I will not accept Mr Gorridge,’ she said. ‘But that is not grounds for hope and I wish you would not. I only came today to assure myself the children took no harm yesterday and to offer what recompense I could.’
‘Lucy, how can you say that? If you are trying to pretend you no longer love me, you are making a poor job of it. I must hope. Without it I have nothing. Hope was the last thing in Pandora’s box when everything else flew out, wasn’t it?’
‘So the legend goes.’
‘Well, then…’
‘Here is the gate into the back garden. I shall certainly not get lost now. Go back, Mr Moorcroft, before you are caught out by the snow. Go home to your family.’ She did not wait for him to say goodbye, but spurred her mare through the gate, which she had left open for her return.
He sat and watched her go, unwilling to turn away. How could she have been so unkind, putting her nose in the air and calling him Mr Moorcroft as if he were a stranger and not the love of her life? He knew the reason well enough. She was as unhappy as he was and trying to hide it. He listened to the clip-clop of her mare’s hooves on the gravel path. How long would he go on hoping? Would her father ever soften? He appeared as hard and cold as the ice on the water butt.
Lucy was passing along the path beside the glasshouses when she heard a strange scrabbling noise that brought her back to where she was with a jolt. Surely the fox had not been driven to take shelter in one of the hothouses? If it had and the hounds caught its scent, they could wreak havoc among the gardeners’ precious plants, just as they had t
he navvy encampment. And her father would not treat the matter so lightly.
There was no one about; most of the garden staff had been given a holiday. She dismounted and walked to the door of the glasshouse from which the noise had come, intending, if it was the fox, to drive it out into the open. The warmth hit her as she opened the door and stepped inside, searching around for whatever it was that had made the sound. There it was again. She peered round the side of a small handcart used for moving pots and plants about the garden, and the sight that met her made her cry out in horror.
Edward was lying on top of a young girl on a bed of straw and both were completely naked. Their clothes were scattered everywhere. He looked up from what he was doing and, seeing her, rolled off the girl and sat up. Lucy averted her eyes; she had never seen a naked man before.
‘Home, Lottie,’ he said.
The girl scrambled into her clothes and squeezed past Lucy, who also turned to leave, but he rose and grabbed her arm. She tried to pull herself away from him. ‘Let me go,’ she said. ‘You disgust me.’
‘What’s so disgusting? It’s what men and women do. Surely you knew that?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it. Let go of my arm. I never want to see you again.’
‘Oh, Lucy, don’t be such a prude. I was only amusing myself while you made up your mind to marry me. She means nothing to me.’
‘Then that makes your behaviour all the more despicable. If you think I will marry you after this, you are sadly mistaken.’
‘Oh, but I think you will.’ He forced her round to face him. She shut her eyes and struggled to free herself. He laughed. ‘Open your eyes, Lucy, and look at me.’
She refused. He put his hands round her face, forcing her to look at him and then he kissed her full on the lips, a savage and bruising kiss that made her feel sick. She struggled, but he held her fast with one hand while trying to lift her skirt with the other. She kicked out. He gripped her tighter. ‘You will marry me because after I have done with you, no one else will have you. It’s time you came out of your stiff corset and learned a little of what life is all about.’
Mary Nichols Page 20