by Sarah Lark
“I’ll alert the butler of your arrival!” the girl said kindly. “But if I may take your coat.”
Simon then found himself in a luxuriously furnished entrance room awaiting another, higher-ranking, domestic servant. Instead, however, Nora appeared.
“Simon!” she beamed at him. “You’re looking well! If only you didn’t look so afraid!”
Simon tried to smile back. She couldn’t have meant that in earnest; he knew all too well that he was pale and had grown even thinner in recent weeks. At least his clothing was, for once, beyond reproach. He was getting better at maintaining the lace and chest ruffles on his last two shirts. He had even resorted to using a needle and thread to make his coat and trousers tighter, and yesterday, had invested a penny on lard to polish his worn-out buckled shoes until they were shiny again. He had powdered his hair again, but this time, did not hold back on talc. With the will to do so, its splendor could be taken for that of a fashionable wig.
“And you look beautiful,” he sincerely returned the compliment to Nora. She smiled, flattered, and smoothed over the fabric on her farthingale. To mark the occasion, she had chosen a dress made of golden brocade, adorned with countless ribbons and bows. Nora’s hair was gorgeously braided and, as usual, not powdered. Her cheeks were rosy from the excitement and joyful anticipation.
“Come in, Papa is in a very good mood! And what beautiful flowers … but no, I’ll wait to say that later! Maybe … maybe you should wait until the butler comes,”
At the last moment, Nora seemed a bit afraid of her own courage. Nonetheless, she didn’t give into it and gave Simon an encouraging kiss on the cheek — and they both blushed when the butler appeared in the doorway, making his presence known by clearing his throat. She immediately darted off — Simon followed her slowly, guided by the dignified majordomo, whose uniform seemed considerably finer than Simon’s.
Thomas Reed was sitting comfortably in his study — a bit surprised that his daughter had joined him with her embroidery. Usually, she didn’t like the study and always scrunched up her nose when she became aware of the familiar smells of tobacco, old leather, and rum.
Now, however, Nora was sitting across from her father and trying to focus on having a conversation. Yet she kept jumping up to get something, or look out the window nervously. Now, as the butler announced the visit from her father’s clerk Simon Greenborough, she seemed excited. Nora got ready to stand up, as if she had assumed that Thomas Reed would await the visit in one of the more formal reception rooms. However, her father saw no reason for it, because he obviously hadn’t expected a courtesy visit, but instead a matter of business. Even though the butler’s announcement hadn’t sounded as such.
“Mr Reed, Viscount Simon Greenborough wishes to pay his respects.”
Thomas Reed smiled. That was just like the young Simon; always proper to the point of caricature — who else would announce himself with all of his titles simply to bring round some urgent letter or file? And the clerk, who was now entering the room timidly but upright behind the butler, had even brought flowers with him! Thomas found this considerate, but exaggerated.
“Mr Reed … Miss Nora …” Simon bowed formally.
“Come in Simon!” Thomas said cheerfully. “What is it at this late hour? Has Morrisburg finally responded? Is he delivering the goods? Or have you heard something about that ship that went missing?”
Simon shook his head. Thomas Reed’s words had thrown him off his guard. And what was he even doing with the bouquet now?
“What beautiful flowers!” Nora said and smiled at him encouragingly. “For me?”
Thomas Reed rolled his eyes. “I suppose so, child. I would find it strange if Mr. Greenborough were to present me with such floral contributions. Though it wasn’t necessary, Simon, as this isn’t a social visit after all, and your pockets aren’t particularly overflowing,”
Simon blushed when the merchant’s eyes fell on his tired-looking coat.
“But it is …” fell out of his mouth. “Well, it’s more of a—”
“Well, first give me the flowers,” Nora smiled. Simon needed time to regain his composure. This was, of course, his first marriage proposal and it wasn’t particularly easy for him to speak off the cuff. Her beloved wrote beautiful letters, and when they were alone, Nora basked in his compliments. But otherwise Simon was often rather shy — maybe it was normal for someone who’d been thrown so far offtrack as he had been. She stroked his ice-cold hand as she took the bouquet.
Thomas Reed seemed a bit confused when he noticed how they looked at each other.
“Well, Nora,” he then said. “Perhaps you would like to go and put the bouquet in a vase while we discuss things that are undoubtedly boring for you.”
Nora blushed. “No, Papa,” she then said. “I wanted to say … uh … this isn’t boring for me at all because it—”
“Because I …” Simon could by no means allow his sweetheart to bring up the marriage proposal first.
Thomas Reed furrowed his brow. “Well, what is it Simon? Tell me why you came here. And what about it should be so uplifting for a young lady. Since when are you interested in lost ships from Virginia?”
Nora’s eyes flashed. “Always! You know that I’m interested in everything from overseas. The colonies, the ships … Simon and I—”
“Simon and you?” Thomas Reed asked.
His voice abruptly lost its warm friendliness. He straightened up in his seat.
Simon took a deep breath and then had to suppress a cough. He had to say it now. And Nora’s father didn’t look so threatening with his glass of rum, cigar, and in the silk dressing gown, which he’d traded with his jacket and coat, just as every master of a household did upon finishing a day’s work.
“Mr Reed, sir, I … I’m here to ask for your daughter’s hand!” Now it was out.
Nora was beaming. Thomas Reed, however, was speechless. Simon felt the need to fill the awkward silence and continued speaking.
“I know that there are far worthier matches, but I love your daughter with all my heart, and Nora has made it clear to me that she feels the same. I’m not rich, but I will do everything I can to offer her a befitting home and—”
Thomas Reed’s laughter interrupted his speech. “How would you do that?” he inquired.
Simon bit his lip.
“We were thinking of the colonies, Papa!” Nora chimed in. She smiled at her father, beaming. So far, she didn’t think it had started so poorly. “If Simon found a post somewhere in Jamaica, or Barbados, or something, if you maybe … so, we thought you might be interested in opening a trading station somewhere, and we … so, we both would like—”
“Be quiet!” Thomas Reed told his daughter. “It would be best if you went to arrange your flowers. I don’t need you here at the moment … Nora!”
He said her name sternly, when she didn’t seem to be making a move to go. Nora reluctantly left the room, but not without throwing Simon an encouraging look. Simon didn’t know if he should feel relieved or abandoned.
“Sir, I know it comes as a surprise. And Nora surely envisions it easier than it is. But I’m young, I can work … I would take a position at one of the plantations, I—”
“You are constantly sick, Simon,” Reed told him with a cutting voice. “The head clerk has advised me to dismiss you because your job performance isn’t sufficient. And now you want to go overseas to beat Negroes who are twice your size? Not to mention the fact that I don’t see my daughter as the wife of a slave driver.”
Simon bit his lip. “I have always worked off the absences, sir,” he defended himself. “And … and you … you can trust me. If I could somehow work for you overseas—”
“Simon, I don’t see my daughter overseas. This is just childish excitement. She is seventeen years old, she still has all the time in the world to fall in love with a man from London’s business world, to get a townhouse in order … I would very much like to see my grandchildren grow up, Mr. Greenborough
, and not need to worry about whether they have enough to eat.”
Simon straightened himself up. “The children of the Greenborough family have never gone hungry!” he said with dignity. Thomas Reed took a deep breath and a sip of rum.
“But near enough, Simon. When I look at you, I’m not sure that you’re getting enough in your stomach. In any case, your father gambled away your land, and your house, and your title, if I’ve been properly informed. And now you struggle to keep your head above water — and I very much appreciate your diligence and your perseverance. I hear you’ve taken on your father’s debts — I am impressed, young man, so many others would have long since run out on them. But those are not circumstance into which I would have my daughter marry!”
“She would still be a Lady Greenborough,” Simon said.
Thomas Reed rubbed his temples. “Not even that, Simon, and you know it. Well, no one will deny you the title of ‘Viscount,’ but if Nora’s children should inherit the title, then I would have to marry her to a Codrington instead, wouldn’t I?”
Simon lowered his head. Of course, Thomas Reed sometimes even mediated in trade with other countries and parliamentary seats. He knew what had happened to the Greenboroughs.
“Mr Reed … I love your daughter!” Simon couldn’t think of anything else.
Thomas Reed shrugged. “I understand that,” he said shortly. “Nora is a beautiful, intelligent, and extremely lovable, young lady. But that is not an argument for an unsuitable marriage.”
“Nora loves me,” Simon’s voice sounded choked.
Thomas looked at him and tried to work out what his daughter saw in him: undoubtedly a gentleman with the best of manners. He was quite handsome, if you like that slender, somewhat intellectual type. Simon had soft-brown eyes that almost seemed black in the dim light of the study, high cheekbones, and full but finely curved lips. His sensitive hands with long fingers seemed almost graceful — he was probably a good rider and dancer. Nora might really be in love with him, and perhaps he even made her happy. But hell, it was no longer about buying his daughter some toy that she’d begged for. Nora was almost grown. He had to think of her future.
“That will change again,” he replied harshly. “I’m sorry Simon, but I cannot grant your request. And even Nora can’t give you any assurance, as she is far too young and immature. The question now remains as to how we proceed. I would not like to throw you out just for loving my daughter. But I would suggest that you look for a new position sometime in the foreseeable future, preferably in an office where a manager doesn’t have a marriageable daughter. Of course, I will issue you outstanding recommendations. I have no ill will towards you, Simon Greenborough. But you have to start to come to terms with your status and your position.”
Thomas Reed gestured for Simon to leave; the conversation had clearly ended.
Simon bowed again, as convention dictated, but he couldn’t manage to say anything more. Reed seemed not to expect him to, either. Simon felt as if he were blindly stumbling out of the room. Fortunately, the butler took him from outside the door to the entrance room, likely after Reed had rung for him. He wouldn’t have found it on his own.
It was raining again when Simon stepped out to the street, but he hardly noticed. In a trance, he walked along the streets of Mayfair, crossed the Thames Bridge, and returned to the East End. He dragged himself up the creaking, rickety, wooden stairs to his room without listening to Mrs. Paddington’s shrewish voice, once again complaining about something. He tried to close off all of his senses to the mix of odors from cooking, the toilet, and wet clothing. Laboriously breathing, he was finally under the roof of his hovel. As was appropriate to his status and position.
CHAPTER 4
Thomas Reed put no great thought into the fact that Simon Greenborough didn’t attend work the next day. He was even prepared to forgive the young man. Simon’s proposal had been presumptuous, but you had to make allowances for his noble birth and upbringing. A properly situated country aristocrat might well have hoped for a marriage to Nora. Even if Thomas Reed himself had preferred a merchant as a son-in-law, he would have compromised on the matter if Nora had so strongly wished for the connection as she clearly did for this marriage with Simon. Thomas Reed had never seen his daughter so upset when he informed her of his rejection to the proposal. Nora cried, screamed, and begged — Thomas could hardly recognize his otherwise friendly and generally obedient daughter. It was hard for him not to give into her, but he was convinced that it had been the right thing to do. Even Nora would see that some day.
When Simon hadn’t returned to the office on the second day, however, Reed’s understanding had started to grow into vexation. Well, the boy was proud, but now he was going too far. It was not befitting of his employee to sulk. It was bad enough that Nora did it! She had withdrawn to her rooms and not exchanged a single word with her father since. Thomas Reed eventually found himself complaining of his sorrows to an old friend who had often stood by his side in matters of upbringing.
“Oh, you needn’t overemphasize it!” Lady MacDougal laughed. She was a Scottish country aristocrat whose husband held a seat in Parliament. Thus, her family was often in London. “These girls with their young loves! It came over from the French court. Faire l’amour as a reason to be! Even so, your daughter has proven to have a certain style — at least the boy is an impoverished lord. Our Eileen, on the other had, wanted to marry a stableman just last year! Think about that — the fellow could hardly read or write!
“He accompanied her a few times while riding and drove her mad. Now it’s rather easily over … and it won’t be any different with your Nora. She need only think of other things. We can take her with us to Balmoral for the hunting season; she can ride on a few hunts. Buy her a new horse to make her happy. And especially since there’s one ball after another — she’ll get to know more young gentlemen than she can count on ten fingers, all dashing riders, good dancers. Of course, I can’t guarantee anything about their financial backgrounds.” The lady laughed. “But the topic of ‘Greenborough’ would certainly be closed.”
Thomas Reed left her feeling comforted. In principle, she was right: Nora lacked a bit of realism, but was not entirely without discernment. Unlike Eileen MacDougal, she at least expressed a certain level of dignity with her secret love. As such, he was almost in a good mood that evening at dinner with Nora as he told her of his plans. Nora’s outrage surprised him.
“I don’t want a horse, Papa, I want Simon! I’m not a child any longer and won’t be distracted from my wishes by a dollhouse.”
Nora threw her napkin on the table and pushed her plate away.
“Three days ago, you suggested that I buy your man a post in the colonies,” said Reed said, Nora’s continued rebellion slowly making him angry. “Before it was a dollhouse, now it’s a colonial house — you’ve remained faithful to your architectural tastes, and the planters even colorfully paint their residencies from time to time.”
“I would live in a hut so long as I could be with Simon!” Nora crowed. In fact, a home covered with palm leaves was one of her favorite daydreams. “And I’m going to marry him anyway! No matter what you say!”
Thomas Reed sighed and started off by refusing to allow her to leave the house — not even conceiving of Nora truly running away from him! He didn’t have any major worries about it: Simon Greenborough certainly had no money for passage overseas. And was digging his own grave at the moment — Reed decided that, should the young man have another absence, he would give into his head clerk’s suggestions and let the young man go.
In fact, he waited almost a week until he finally decided to give Simon Greenborough notice of his termination. Moreover, he instructed the clerk to add a passage in the letter regarding a reference. In the case that Mr. Greenborough should wish for such a thing, he could call on the Reed offices at any time. Mr. Simpson, the head clerk, complained, but Thomas Reed used it to appease his still somewhat guilty conscience. He had done every
thing he could for his rebellious employee.
Nora had not taken the matter of being condemned to the household very seriously. For the first few days, the house staff had monitored her as directed, but when she sneaked out to Peppers in the stables just over a week later, no one commented on it.
The coachman was sitting on a wooden stool in the tack room, polishing a harness with a mixture of wax and pine oil.
“That looks good,” Nora said after greeting him. “But it’s a lot of work to get it properly shining, is it not?”
The coachman, a small, burly man with a good-natured, round face, grinned and blinked at Nora with his knowing, light-blue eyes.
“Well, don’t trouble yourself,” he said calmly. “You don’t really want to talk about cleaning harnesses, do you? What is it, Miss Nora? Another secret rendezvous? I can’t help you with that any longer; your father has already confronted me. I could honestly deny everything, I haven’t seen a thing,” he winked at her, “but now it won’t work anymore, Miss Nora, now that your father knows and has expressly disapproved.”
Nora nodded. “I … I just wanted … I haven’t heard anything at all from Simon!” she finally said. “And that is so unlike him. He is truly a gentleman. But now … He just disappeared without a word and I thought maybe he left a message with you …”
Peppers shook his head. “Nah, miss. And also not with the others. Mr. Reed has already asked, but no one has heard or seen anything. You can believe, Miss Nora, we would have told you if we had.”
Nora rubbed her nose, as she always did when she was thinking and confused. Peppers sighed.
“Look, child, the best thing is to forget him,” he said paternally. Naturally, offering such words of advice exceeded his position, but the hell with it, he had known this young woman since her birth! “The man is gone. As well as his good manners — he was only after your money, Miss Nora—”