The Artful Match

by Jennifer Delamere

  Hearing steps behind her, she turned to see the butler approaching.

  In the past, Mr. Lowe’s attitude toward Cara had generally been good-natured condescension. He had a lighthearted streak, despite his dignified role. Now, however, his manner was grave and unsmiling. “His lordship has directed me to oversee the details of getting you to the railway station tomorrow.”

  Given the circumstances, his words were kindly phrased. He might have said, “My job is to ensure you get out in a timely manner.”

  Her throat tightened. “Thank you.”

  Mr. Lowe motioned for her to walk up the stairs with him. As they went, he said, “I also need to know where to ship your trunk. I don’t imagine you’ll be able to carry everything away with you tomorrow.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” she admitted. “I haven’t given much thought to anything. Except Robbie.”

  “It has been a difficult week for everyone,” Mr. Lowe pointed out. “His lordship was absolutely beside himself. And milady—”

  “She never left his side.” Cara recalled the haunted look in her ladyship’s eyes and knew she was responsible for putting it there. She gave a despondent sigh.

  “This was the first time their child has been in such serious jeopardy. We cannot be surprised if they need time to recover.”

  Mr. Lowe’s observation was thoughtful. Cara realized with gratitude that he seemed to direct no malice toward her.

  “I love that boy!” Cara exclaimed, desperate to share her sorrow with anyone who would spare her some empathy. “I would never wish any harm on him.”

  “I have no doubt of it.”

  They reached Cara’s door. Mr. Lowe glanced up and down the hallway. “If I may speak to you a moment in private?” They stepped into Cara’s room, and the butler pulled a purse from his pocket and placed it in her hands. “Some members of the staff took up a collection. We hope it will help ease the transition.”

  The purse was small, but the weight of it felt like a lifeline. Cara had never been good at saving money, despite Julia’s constant harping that she ought to prepare for a rainy day. “I-I’m overwhelmed.”

  This display of kindness was more than she had expected. Finances were tight for everyone, and Cara was humbled that the staff had been willing to share their hard-earned money with her.

  Impulsively, she gave Mr. Lowe a hug, then pulled away, embarrassed at herself for such a breach of protocol. “Oh! I beg your pardon—”

  He gave her a kindly smile that held a touch of his former teasing. “Things certainly will not be the same without you, Miss Bernay.”

  “Small favors,” she said, repeating his quip on the morning of the picnic. She found herself smiling despite her tears.

  “Do you have any idea where you will go?”

  Cara hated to admit that she did not. After nearly two years with the Needenhams, she didn’t even know where to look for work.

  Then it occurred to her that the answer was obvious. Unlike the last time she’d been out of work, her sisters were in a position to offer aid. Rosalyn was married, and Julia was engaged to a wealthy barrister.

  Rosalyn and her husband, Nate, were touring northern England with a traveling production of The Pirates of Penzance. But Julia was in London, and Cara had to admit she was the best person to turn to for advice. Her sister’s admonitions were invariably difficult medicine to swallow, but she was always annoyingly right.

  Mr. Lowe was looking at her expectantly, waiting for an answer.

  “I’m going to London,” Cara said.

  Perhaps things would not be so bad after all. Perhaps, after doing it so many times, starting over was the one thing Cara was good at.

  Henry had the driver stop at the top of the hill. When the carriage he’d hired at the railway station came to a halt, he got down and walked to the edge of the road, looking out over the valley below. Just as he did every time he came here.

  He stared down at the foundry, which was alive with activity. The name Reese Cast-Iron Products was proudly painted in bold white letters on the largest of the red-brick buildings that clustered around an open yard filled with wagons. Smoke belched from tall chimney stacks, sending out a smell that was not unpleasant to Henry. It spoke to him of men at work, of products that would improve people’s lives. This was a world so different from the one he usually inhabited, and it always invigorated him.

  In the main yard, workers were loading wagons with crates of various sizes. Some cargo was so large it required a pulley lift. Four men were operating one now, while two others guided the crate into place on a sturdy wagon. Soon a team of draft horses would be brought out from the stable that stood a comfortable distance away from the buildings that housed the massive blast furnaces. They would haul the goods to the train station located ten miles away at Shrewsbury.

  As much as Henry admired the outstanding example of industry on display here, it wasn’t why he always stopped to take in this view. He had a far more personal reason. This was the exact spot where he’d been standing the first time he saw Olivia.

  She had been in the yard, overseeing the workers unloading supplies. She was checking items off a list and directing the dispersal of goods to various buildings. The incongruity of a woman at work in a place like this, and so clearly in a position of authority, had struck Henry immediately. As did her beauty. She was a statuesque blonde, and even from a distance Henry could see she moved with graceful confidence. Then had come the most wonderful moment of all: she had looked up. Seeing him standing there, she had cheerfully waved a greeting.

  In truth, she had not been waving at Henry, but at the man who’d been standing next to him. Jacob Reese was Henry’s only real friend from university. At some point during their first year at Oxford, they’d met through mutual acquaintances on the squash courts. They’d played a fierce but friendly match, which Jacob had barely won—despite the fact that Henry was the acknowledged champion of their college. From there on out, they’d been inseparable.

  Jacob had been able to attend university because of his father’s success making cast-iron products. On that bright summer day when Henry had first seen Jacob’s sister, Olivia, he’d been accompanying his friend to do some hiking in the nearby mountains. They had just completed their second year at university. It had been Henry’s first visit here, but when he saw Olivia, he knew immediately that it would not be his last.

  Today, as he stood in the heat of the August sun, Henry allowed free rein to all the pleasures and pain of those memories. Olivia had been in his life only a few short months, but they were among the happiest he’d ever known. He was aware it was foolish to linger here with the hope that somehow he would see her again. No matter how vividly she appeared in his mind’s eye, she was gone forever. Living only in his memory. And his heart.

  He did see Jacob, though. His friend came out of the business offices. This foundry was now run by Jacob, and it was still impacting Henry’s life in vitally important ways. As a silent partner in this operation, Henry had no official duties, but his trust in Jacob’s ability to run the business never faltered.

  Jacob was headed for one of the neighboring buildings, but he paused as a worker came up to speak to him. While they talked, Jacob happened to look up the hill, just as Olivia had done on that day eight years ago. He caught sight of Henry and immediately waved a greeting.

  Henry returned the gesture, then returned to his carriage. It was time to bring his thoughts back to the present. There were a lot of pressing issues on his mind, as he’d just wasted three days on an unsuccessful search for his brother. He hoped his friend could offer some sound advice.

  An hour later, after they’d reviewed the prospectus Henry had brought with him, Jacob leaned back in his chair and regarded Henry from across his desk. “This is a good plan. I’m sorry you’re being forced to do this, though. I know reopening the copper mine wasn’t your first ambition.”

  It was true. Henry had been on the verge of partnering with three o
ther men to form a company to expand the steelworks and flax mills in Cumbria. It was a venture critical to rescuing his family’s finances, which were in a precarious state after several years of bad harvests. Like many large landowners, Henry was looking for ways to diversify his income.

  He had even pushed to get Langham a position on the board, which would have netted the family even more money. Unfortunately, Henry had been forced out of the deal when the Duke of Crandall had come aboard. The duke didn’t like Henry’s politics or his brother. Now Henry had to resurrect a copper mine in Cornwall that had been in the family for over a century. He’d been using it as collateral for other investments, but he was going to see if it could be made profitable again in its own right.

  “There are still some unknowns, of course,” he pointed out. “One is whether we can retain enough quality men to run the mine. Many of the experienced miners are being drawn away to work in other countries, where the career is more lucrative and their knowledge is in demand.”

  “I’m guessing plenty of men would welcome the opportunity to remain at home. But it does seem critical that the sooner the project can get underway, the better.”

  “That’s another problem,” Henry said. “Now that the long vacation is upon us, everyone has scattered to their country estates. I may have to wait several months to get anyone to meet with me.”

  “What about Lord Nigel Hayward?” Jacob suggested. “I understand his father has given him Roxwell Abbey. That’s near Morestowe, I believe.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.” Hayward had been a friend of theirs at Oxford. He was also the son of a wealthy marquess. “Though I wonder whether his connections will prove an asset or a stumbling block.”

  Jacob nodded. “It’s possible that the Duke of Crandall’s comments regarding your stance on South Africa—and questioning your loyalty to the Crown—will cause some of the aristocracy to avoid doing business with you.”

  “Not to mention Langham’s growing bad reputation.” Henry had already told Jacob about his brother’s disappearance from the sanitarium and his own fruitless efforts to find him. The duke had trotted out stories of Langham’s bad behavior while a student at Lincoln’s Inn as yet another reason to keep Henry out of the Cumbrian business venture. The house fire at Morestowe and the rumors that Langham had caused it had only provided more fodder.

  “Nevertheless, it couldn’t hurt to pay Lord Nigel a friendly visit,” Jacob insisted. “Perhaps feel him out on the idea. In the meantime, I can send out a few queries among businessmen of my acquaintance who are not so highly placed in society.”

  It was a good plan, although Henry wondered if even those men might also be swayed by the duke. It seemed most of them were trying to buy their way into the upper classes, either through marriage or even at times acquiring a title. They were not likely to risk getting on the wrong side of such a powerful man.

  Jacob pulled a watch from his waistcoat pocket. “There’s still an hour yet before dinner. Would you care to see what’s new?”

  This had become a routine over the years, one which Henry enjoyed immensely. Glad to set aside his concerns for a while, he said, “Absolutely. What new designs have you come up with?”

  “You’ll be interested in an improvement we’ve made to the heating conduction in our radiators, including the ones we’re constructing for you.”

  They went to the warehouse and walked down a long aisle, passing a variety of cast-iron merchandise from stoves to umbrella stands. They reached the storage area for the radiators being built for Henry’s house. Jacob explained the changes in their construction, and it wasn’t long before Henry was pleasantly engrossed in the technical details.

  The radiators were not only functional, but beautiful, too. They had fine patterns along the columns and feet that would lend a touch of beauty to their surroundings.

  “These are outstanding,” Henry agreed. “I hope they won’t have to sit here much longer.”

  Jacob gave him a sympathetic glance. “Things going slowly with the renovation?”

  Renovation was too kind a word, considering the circumstances. “Rain has plagued us all summer, setting back the work.”

  His friend’s eyebrows rose. “Too much rain in Essex, the driest county in England? Seems ironic.”

  “More like a continuation of everything else that has happened this year,” Henry replied gloomily. “Bad crops, the house fire . . .”

  “Cheer up, friend.” Jacob gave him an encouraging pat on the back. “Once it’s all done, the setbacks you’ve had along the way won’t seem so bad. Sometimes what we make of bad situations leaves us better off than we ever expected.”

  That was Jacob, always looking on the bright side. Henry gave a noncommittal shrug, even though he’d come here today precisely to hear that encouragement. Jacob had a way of making otherwise banal words seem entirely believable. Perhaps this was because he’d been a divinity student at Oxford. He’d planned to dedicate his life to the church, but everything had changed after Olivia’s death. Jacob was honor-bound to continue the family business. In truth, he’d become such an excellent businessman that Henry couldn’t imagine what his life would have been like as a clergyman.

  “Look at it this way,” Jacob continued. “The fire, although it was terrible, caused no loss of human life. That is the most important thing, wouldn’t you say? And now the mansion will be vastly improved and modernized, making it better for your family and your posterity.”

  “Yes,” Henry agreed, although he didn’t like Jacob’s use of the word posterity. The need for an heir, someone to carry on the Burke lineage and the earldom, was real. At one time it had been Henry’s dream, too, but now it was too painful to contemplate. “Jacob, do you ever regret how your life changed? How you had to give up your original plans in order to work here?”

  “No,” Jacob replied without hesitation. “I wanted most of all to help people. Here, I can provide a good living for many workers and quality goods that will benefit countless more. I’ll admit it was hard at first, but perhaps Olivia’s passion for this business found its way to me. I’m grateful for that, even though I miss her every day.”

  Henry nodded as the familiar grip of sorrow wrapped around his heart.

  Jacob placed a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “We don’t always know why terrible things happen. We can only search for any good that can come from the bad. Whatever the situation, we can always seek the Lord’s help. I know you still grieve for Olivia, but I also pray you will be able to find a way forward, as we all have done. Will you pray this also?”

  “I’ll try.” Henry couldn’t promise more.

  Later that night, as Henry rode the train back to London, he turned over in his mind everything he and Jacob had discussed. He even offered up a quiet prayer. What was he to do about Langham? And what, ultimately, would he do with Amelia, to see that she found a place in the world that was best for her?

  The one thing he couldn’t do, however, was ask for a wife, despite the way his heart ached with longing at what he’d lost every time he saw Jacob and Lila together. They were immensely happy. Who wouldn’t want that? And yet, how could anyone possibly replace Olivia in his heart? But if Henry didn’t get married, there could be no heir to carry on the title. Langham was next in line, and given his dangerously irresponsible nature, that would surely bring the family to ruin. It was a quandary he couldn’t even begin to untangle. So he prayed that somehow God would find a way to solve that problem, too.

  It was perhaps the most sincere prayer he’d offered up in many years.

  He only wished it could give his heart more ease.

  CHAPTER

  4

  EVERYONE IN PADDINGTON STATION seemed to be in a hurry—running to catch a train, dashing outside to the cabstand, pressing forward impatiently at the ticket counters.

  It was exactly as it had been when Cara had stood on this very spot only a few weeks ago. She had accompanied the Needenhams on one of their rare trips to
the city. At that time, Sir John commandeered three porters to take their mountain of baggage to the waiting carriages, while Cara kept Robbie out of harm’s way, pulling him from the path of people and baggage carts.

  Out of harm’s way.

  Cara gripped her carpetbag and took a deep breath. She must not dwell on the past. She must concentrate on what to do next. Admitting her present circumstances to Julia wasn’t going to be easy. Cara deserved all the reproof her sister would undoubtedly level at her. But what choice did she have? She pushed her way forward through the crowd.

  In the busy carriage yard, Cara walked to the cab that had the friendliest-looking driver. He was tall, and his face was weather-beaten, but he wore a pleasant expression as he absently patted his horse’s neck. He tipped his cloth cap at Cara as she approached. “Where to, miss?”

  “How much is the fare to 11 Harley Street?”

  The cabbie looked her over before answering. Cara wore her nicest and yet most practical walking skirt with a matching jacket. This, plus the few items she’d been able to fit in her carpetbag, was all she had. The rest of her belongings were in a trunk at the Needenhams’, waiting for her to send word as to where they should be shipped. Now, as the cabbie eyed her, she got the impression he was calculating more than mileage.

  “Two shillings.”

  “Oh.” That was more than she’d expected. Then she remembered that Sir John always complained that the London cabbies overcharged if they thought they could get away with it. This was one of many reasons he disliked the city. Cara furrowed her brow. “Last time I was here, I paid less than a shilling.”

  This was a complete fabrication, but it seemed to work—especially as she accompanied the words with a little shrug and a movement indicating she was about to seek another driver.