Daughter of Trade

by Lesley-Anne McLeod

  Dinah attempted to distract his mind to his estate. She could not permit him to broach serious matters, for she had only just realized, with stunning certainty, that her heart was in severest danger of being lost to him forever. "What is Harvest Home?"

  He accepted her distraction, but his expression told her he was aware of her endeavor. "When the laborers bring in the last of the harvest, there is a procession and then a feast, provided by the landowner. And a dance, a romp really. I missed it. I had not thought I would feel it so."

  "You love your land," she commented. The sound of the horses' hooves on the hard-packed earth was the only noise about them. Harvested fields lay on either side of the road mocking their conversation.

  "I do," he agreed. "You would too Dinah. There are acres of parkland in which to ride, forest to walk in on hot summer days. Gardens to tend with flowers of every sort, glasshouses for the winter--what a pleasure it is to walk there when the frost sparkles outside. Fountains, an ornamental lake... And the farms, of course."

  "I have never been to such a place," Dinah reminded him.

  "I visited at Harewood on my journey here. I fancy my..." He halted.

  "You visited at Harewood," she repeated in tones of amazement. "You did not mean to tell me of that did you? I...of course...you would move in such circles. I had not thought of it. You must see how divergent are our circumstances, my lord. Harewood is one of the finest estates in England; I cannot imagine the history and the riches of the Lascelles family. And you visit there casually--call them friends." Her very new realisation of her attachment to him made her vehement.

  "They are people Dinah, just people. Very nice ones as it happens. You would like them. And they would like you."

  "Me? A daughter of trade? I think not." She snorted in an unrefined fashion.

  "Why are you so inclined to think the worst of my class?"

  "I have told you...I have heard of many insults offered to people of my class by members of yours. And I have heard of the Lascelles refusing invitations to help the City of Leeds Corporation. The aristocrats are the founders of our country. Manufacturers will be its future, and it seems there is no meeting ground for the two."

  "Nonsense," he snapped.

  She was affronted by the word.

  "I am accepted here. You would be accepted there, by anyone of intelligence and reason. You have listened too much to Joseph," he said.

  "And you are quixotic, avoiding reality."

  They glared at each other, at odds in a way they had never been.

  "We must not misspend this interval we have together," Sebastian said suddenly, a different note in his voice.

  Dinah strove to keep the animosity alive. It did not threaten her as did intimacy. "We may as well squander our time, for it will end soon enough anyway. We can be nothing to each other."

  "We can be anything we wish to be," he contradicted her.

  "It is a beautiful day," she said, trying a distraction that had worked upon occasion with Bernard Humberstone. She ignored the traitorous quiver that trembled through her in response to his words.

  "It will rain later," he countered, on an exasperated laugh. He was not easily diverted.

  "You are right," she capitulated, surveying a bank of cloud swiftly rising in the west. "Autumn is truly upon us."

  "We have known each other precisely six weeks," he said, with a caressing smile.

  "And I cannot yet canter," she countered.

  "You cannot avoid my attentions and my intentions forever," he said. His expression was serious.

  "I can but try. And I have every wish for your attention to my riding. I want you to teach me to canter," she said, managing a roguish smile.

  * * *

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sebastian idled along Bond Street in Leeds on a chilly day with a lowering sky, comparing the shopping avenue with its London counterpart. There were similarities in the bright shop windows full of tempting goods and the bustling crowds before them, but certain things were notable by their absence. There were no crested coaches on the cobbles, no aristocratic persons on the pavement. Few liveried footmen running errands and almost no military uniforms were to be seen. Shoppers and hawkers were present in abundance, as was a great deal of traffic, in the main closed carriages on this day that was a harbinger of winter. A small, tart wind whipped some dust and straw from the cobbles and caused Sebastian to wish he had donned his greatcoat as Skelmer had suggested. He was bumped by a busy housewife with a sturdy basket and absently accepted her muttered apology as his thoughts turned to Dinah.

  Dinah... He had experienced a remarkable lack of progress in attaching her interest. It was not a difficulty he had previously encountered; he could unblushingly admit it. His address and breeding had always previously smoothed his path. Now they seemed powerful obstacles, hampering his progress. Dinah's friendship--nay, her love--was, he increasingly believed, essential to his future happiness. In fact, he was becoming more and more certain that his heart was fully engaged. But he was troubled as to how to proceed.

  He could scarcely force himself upon her notice, though he believed she was not indifferent to him. When he did succeed in gaining her attention she seemed to take pleasure from his company. Their ride two days previous had been a success, despite her having been forced to accept his invitation by his own and Humberstone's importunities. He was positive she had enjoyed the outing even if their conversation had been fraught with tension once or twice.

  He could not think how to create further opportunities for familiarity; he felt himself at point non plus. Dinah was certainly avoiding him. Haunting the Driffields' home did not answer; he had attempted that and had enjoyed everyone's company but Dinah's. He had fashioned family outings and Dinah had invariably excused herself. He was better acquainted now with her siblings than he was with her.

  He stood at a corner protected by bollards and stared up and then down Albion Street. A small boy offered to sweep the crossing for him; he handed the grubby child a penny but refused the offer. His gaze was abstracted and his attention introspective. Business could only be used as an excuse for remaining in Leeds for a few more days. He had nothing more to accomplish, and besides he was anxious to be at his estate. He had already missed important autumn events there, and he had an increasing desire to be in the countryside. He disliked to be idle and so did his servants; Skelmer and Wink both were restless.

  He stared back down Bond Street, and brightened. Unless he was much mistaken, the object of his reflections and her friend, Miss Hesler, were walking toward him. He strode to meet them.

  "Miss Driffield, Miss Hesler, well met!"

  "Lord Holly, how nice to see you." Miss Hesler was no longer shy in his company.

  "Good day, my lord." Dinah was less forthcoming. She was looking past him, smiling and nodding at an acquaintance.

  "It is a chilly day for a walk, but I think I shall miss the wind from the dales when I am gone from Leeds."

  "It seems like winter already," grumbled Juliana Hesler.

  "You are leaving, my lord?" The anxious words seemed involuntarily drawn from Dinah, as if she had fastened on a different portion of his comment.

  Sebastian suppressed a smile of relief. It was responses such as this from Dinah that gave him confidence that he was not pressing his attentions on an unwilling maid. He had simply to overcome her odd scruples. Perhaps his imminent departure would move her as nothing else had.

  "I must not leave my estate much longer. My business here is nearly complete."

  She had opened her mouth to respond, when a hail cut across her words.

  "Holly, I say, Holly!"

  Sebastian looked impatiently from Dinah's entrancing face to the barouche that pulled up beside him. The coachman and groom had descended from their seats to erect the carriage's hood. The four occupants of the coach looked chilled but were in high spirits, judging from their expressions.

  "Ingram!" he exclaimed in quick recognition. "Well met; how do
you go on?" He had known Charles Ingram these many years; he was an excellent cricketer and a member of Sebastian's team.

  "Very well indeed. But what are you doing in the wilds of Yorkshire and this beknighted commercial wasteland called Leeds? Curiosity brought you, eh?" The two gentlemen and two ladies exchanged a merry laugh.

  They were dressed in the height of extravagant elegance, and had an unhurried, superior air that Holly had never before noticed. He looked at Dinah and Miss Hesler and misliked their frozen, polite attitudes. He perceived for the first time that they were very plainly cloaked and bonneted, and supposed they were on some charitable errand.

  "It did, yes. But now I am here I stay for its own merits. A fine city, and finer people." He returned his gaze to the carriage, away from Dinah's face stiff with a travesty of a pleasant smile.

  "Tradesmen and wool merchants. We are staying at the Temple; the marchioness is not there but has allowed us Ingram cousins to run tame for a month or so, recruiting our strength don't you know." Charles Ingram's glance traveled indifferently over Holly's companions.

  Sebastian hurried into speech before Ingram could make another witless comment. "We play cricket Thursday nights at Chapeltown Moor--in point of fact, this week is the final match--evenings are closing in. Join us tomorrow, Charles?"

  "Oh I think not, dear boy. Why don't you come and stay with us at Temple Newsam, away from this crowd." He seemed to dismiss Holly's companions as part of the unfashionable rabble.

  "Your terminology is ill-considered," Sebastian said with a tight smile. "I am content in my lodgings at the King's Arms, but thank you for your offer."

  Mr. Ingram gave a cursory look at Dinah's outraged expression and said, "Apologies for any offense; none intended. Well, do at least come out for supper. We'll send you a card when someone decides what's to do. Farewell for now." The coachman had remounted his box and Ingram spoke in an aside to him. The carriage lurched to movement and its occupants waved gaily in farewell.

  "My apologies for their rudeness, Miss Driffield." Sebastian knew his words and his face were rigid with mortification. He had often heard such comments from friends and acquaintances and had never paid much heed. But then he had not had close friends amongst the merchant classes, and now he heard all the disdain and rudeness of the remarks.

  "You need not apologize. They only said what their class commonly believes."

  "Not all believe it. I do not subscribe to their views."

  "They seemed to think you did," she pointed out with great accuracy.

  "I have never before gainsaid them, it is true. But only because I have not been in a position to need to do so. That I shall remedy; they will understand me."

  Dinah's forehead was creased with skepticism. Her small, charming nose was reddening in the chill wind.

  "Do you now see the uncrossable gulf that lies between us?" she said. "You saw the attitudes of my class at Mr. Gott's ball. Now you see the prejudices of yours laid before you." Her expression was intent. "Can you say you will not go to dinner at Temple Newsam? Neither I, nor any of my acquaintance, have ever been nearer than the road that passes before the gatehouse. And we never will, I think. Is this not example enough of our differences for you?"

  Juliana Hesler drew in a hissing breath at Dinah's plain speaking.

  Sebastian's face was as set as Dinah's. "I will go to dinner there," he said. "And begin the education of my friends, as you educate yours. It will take time. But I will not abandon them because of their ignorance, nor will I abandon them to it. I will still play cricket with Charles Ingram. I will not cut myself off from friends on either side of the gulf you claim between us."

  "I am expected at the dame school, my lord, and I am now late. You will excuse us." Without another word, Dinah linked her arm with Juliana's and turned toward Briggate and Vicar Lane.

  "Dinah!" Sebastian called after her, frustrated by her obdurate refusal to continue the discussion.

  She did not look back.

  Juliana could talk of nothing else for the remainder of the afternoon between their tasks at the dame school. And Dinah was nothing loath to explore the topic, feeding her anger at the Londoners' insults.

  At the end of the day, they smiled and waved the children off. When they returned indoors to help the mistress tidy the schoolroom, Dinah said, "I am not surprised that Holly would not disclaim his friendship with the Ingrams. He had of course to be true to his class. And Matherton will be the same."

  "Oh no," Juliana contradicted. "For Mr. Matherton is not titled, and sees things more equitably than a peer. I think he must come to Leeds shortly; he said that he would visit me here."

  "Did he indeed?"

  "Well, he intimated that he might."

  Dinah's reservations showed in her face, as they donned their cloaks and bonnets.

  "You need not look so; you are so fusty these days," Juliana said. "One could not credit that you were used to flirt with every gentleman in Leeds."

  Dinah opened her mouth to refute that statement, but the entry of a Driffield groom informed them that John awaited them without. It had been arranged that he would collect them on his homeward journey from the manufactory.

  "Mr. Matherton would be a great catch despite he has no title. Mama thinks very highly of him," Juliana whispered as the groom held the door and Dinah bid the school mistress farewell.

  Dinah could see her friend would not be gainsaid. And she was sorrowed to see that, during their drive home with John and Hamilton, Juliana said scarcely a word to John. To conceal the awkward silence, Dinah encouraged Hamilton to chatter about his great friend, Holly, and their cricket matches.

  They deposited Juliana at her door and drove on towards Park Square. Hamilton had moved to the phaeton's box with the coachman, and John managed to say, "Dinah what shall I do? I thought once we returned home, and Matherton was gone, Juliana would turn again to me, remember all that we have been to each other. But she says nothing, literally nothing to me. Shall I have no hope? How shall I continue?"

  Saddened to see her strong brother so anguished, Dinah covered his broad hand with her own slender one and squeezed it reassuringly.

  "Be constant my dear. Matherton will show his true colours, if he returns, and if he does not, you have only to remain firm in your affection for Juliana to forget her infatuation. We are dazzled by these town beaus, but it will pass. Holly will tire of us, just as Matherton has, and we may all be comfortable when he leaves."

  "I shan't be comfortable," Hamilton piped up. "No, I shan't be. For there isn't one of you can bowl like the viscount, nor bat. And I hope he stays always. Why shouldn't he care to stay in Leeds, it's a prime place, not like London...though I should like to see Mr. Lord's ground, and Lord Holly's team play. Say, Dinah, John, do you think Lord Holly might take me to London? Perhaps he needs a new tiger. Shall I put it to him?"

  His two older siblings exchanged sombre glances, for here was infatuation indeed. They set about the delicate task of bringing their young brother's thinking to reality.

  * * * *

  Dinah had no idea Sebastian took up his friend's invitation to dinner at Temple Newsam or not. She knew that he played cricket on Thursday with Hamilton and attended at the factory on Friday. Beyond that she heard nothing of him. She was busied with her schools and her sewing. The rout to which the Driffields' were invited on Saturday evening did not include the viscount. Although she would have denied that Sebastian was ever in her thoughts, she was conscious that the truth was that he was all too frequently on the periphery of her reflections.

  She attended at divine services on Sunday and afterwards worked as usual at her Sunday school. At the end of the busy afternoon, she stacked a pile of chapbooks neatly on their shelf, and set forward the books she would use on the morrow at the evening school.

  She bent to tidy a fallen paper and when she straightened, Sebastian was before her. Her hand fluttered to her throat. "Oh, what a start you've given me." His appearance was completely
unexpected by her. She had not seen him at St. Paul's in the morning, and assumed that his curiosity had taken him to one of the other churches in Leeds.

  "I am sorry. I had no wish to alarm you." His fine features expressed his remorse as well as his words. "You were deep in thought."

  "Whatever are you doing here?" Dinah knew she sounded ungracious, but if she was not, she would be all too welcoming.

  Across the room, her maid and the vicar's servant tidied the benches away and commenced to sweep the oak floor. Dinah was thankful for their presence. Her nerves were tight strung these days, in Sebastian's presence.

  "I am invited to dine at your home. I arrived early to speak on business matters with your father and discovered John on the point of coming to fetch you. As my horses were already harnessed I convinced him that I would do the job." He picked another piece of paper from the floor and handed it to her.

  He did not release it when she grasped it and she had to look in to his face.

  "Most willingly," he added, and released the paper.

  She gasped, "Your pardon?"

  "I convinced him that I would most willingly call for you and convey you home." He seemed to take pity on her breathless state, and walked a little away, surveying the schoolroom with its utilitarian benches and shelves. Artwork adorned the walls, and tidy piles of needlework and paperwork were stacked on the tables. "So you hold your Sunday school here as well as your weekday school. And whom do you teach on Sundays?"

  She gratefully took the opportunity he offered to discuss an innocuous subject. "Anyone who wishes to come. 'Tis mostly children, but of all ages. Often those near ready for apprenticeships who wish to read with more ease, or better their arithmetic. But we get those older ones who have had no previous opportunity and younger ones who come for the Bible stories we read."

  "And you do all this alone?" Sebastian said, as he turned back to her.