Nathan heard Jonas harrumph. Afraid to hear more, he fled.
Up in his bedroom he threw himself on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Disinherited? He couldn’t bear that. He took it for granted that, one day, the Mill would be his – and he dreamed of the changes he would make. Inspired by the works of Engels, Shaftsbury and Cadbury, Nathan firmly believed that a workforce provided with safe, healthy working conditions and respect would result in improved production. Now, if he chose Lacey over the Mill, what would he do?
Perhaps his mother was right. If he chose a girl of his own standing the problem would be solved. But I love Lacey, he told himself, thumping his fist into a pillow. Question is: do I have the courage to relinquish my inheritance for her? Failing to reach a conclusion, he fell into an uneasy sleep.
*
A dank mist rolled in from the moor, shrouding the cairn on Cuckoo Hill. The late February afternoon was drawing to a close. Lacey shivered and stamped her numbed feet. She’d waited for almost an hour, but Nathan hadn’t come. Neither had he come on any of the previous Sundays when she had visited the cairn. In fact she hadn’t clapped eyes on him since the disastrous party in late December. He hadn’t appeared at the Mill nor had he sent her a message explaining his absence.
So much for true love, she mused. It had been too good to be true. But what else should she have expected. He’d had her believing he was made of sterner stuff but obviously this was not the case. How could she have been foolish enough to believe him when he told her he cared nothing for status? How many times had they discussed transcending class barriers, that they were outmoded in the modern world?
Hadn’t they agreed that all men, and women, ought to be measured not by their wealth but by their contribution to society? All pie in the sky, Lacey concluded, as she made her way home. But such thoughts didn’t prevent her from yearning to be with him.
Had she been aware of the reason for Nathan’s absence, Lacey might not have felt so miserable. At his parents’ insistence he was in Northumberland, negotiating the purchase of new yarns and visiting friends of his mother. At the same time as Lacey waited for him on Cuckoo Hill, Nathan was despondently trudging across a grouse moor taking part in a shoot organised by his host, Arthur Fearnley, a coal baron. At his side was Imogen, his host’s daughter. Of a similar age to Nathan, he had come to the conclusion she was also part of Constance’s plan to distract him from Lacey. Yet he cared not one jot for killing birds and even less for Imogen. He was determined to make up with Lacey as soon as he returned to Yorkshire.
9
It was a Saturday afternoon, and Lacey was not long home from work. Up in her bedroom, she sat at her sewing machine treadling furiously. Easter was less than two weeks away and she still had to complete three bridesmaid’s dresses and a dress for Edith. Joan was marrying Stanley on Easter Saturday, and Lacey was to be a bridesmaid along with Joan’s sisters, Maggie and Elsie.
Lacey was glad she’d had plenty to do in the past three months; it took her mind off Nathan. As she set a sleeve into the dress she was making for Edith she pondered on the unfairness of her own situation, Joan’s forthcoming wedding making her own hapless romance seem all the more poignant.
Why did I have to fall for someone I can’t have, she asked herself? It had all seemed so right at the start, Nathan swearing he loved me enough to cast aside any opposition to us being together. Then, at the first hurdle, he abandoned me.
The sleeve in place, Lacey stilled the treadle. Stop moping she chastised herself. Nathan doesn’t want you so forget about him. Joan will be here any minute to try on her wedding outfit. Don’t let your disappointment spoil her pleasure. Hearing the rattle of the outside door and voices in the kitchen, Lacey put on her bravest face and ran downstairs to greet Joan. She led her straight up to the bedroom.
Several minutes later, Joan gazed in awe at her image in the cheval mirror. ‘It’s beautiful, Lacey. It’s like something you’d see in The Women’s Journal.’ The blue crepe suit, its hobble skirt fashionably short, draped gently over Joan’s ample hips. The jacket, its lapels trimmed with white pique, sat wide on the shoulders and nipped in at the waist.
A satisfied smile curved Lacey’s lips, the success of the outfit bringing with it a rush of adrenaline.
‘What you need is a picture hat and a pair of shoes with heels to finish it off. Let’s go into Huddersfield and buy them this afternoon. I’ve done enough sewing for one day.’
*
In Rushworth’s, Huddersfield’s finest emporium, Joan tried on hats, her enthusiasm waning as a patronising assistant quoted prices. A hat trimmed with white braid particularly took Joan’s fancy.
‘This is lovely but I can’t afford it,’ she whispered to Lacey, as she set it back on its stand. Lacey lifted the hat, and turning to one side craftily tweaked at the silk braid decorating the wide brim.
‘It is, Joanie. It’s just a pity the braid’s loose.’ Lacey pointed out the flaw to the arrogant assistant. ‘You can’t ask full price for it in this condition.’ The assistant peered at the hat, her hauteur diminishing. ‘Mind you,’ Lacey continued, ‘if you were to knock a bit off she might still take it.’
‘I’ll see what the manageress says.’ The assistant scurried away, her hopes of earning commission on the sale revived.
Joan dithered. ‘It costs twelve and six, Lacey: nearly a week’s wages. Even if they knock a couple of bob off I still can’t afford it.’
‘Wait an’ see,’ Lacey ordered.
A few minutes later, back out on John William Street, Lacey and Joan performed a gleeful jig to celebrate their triumph.
‘I never noticed it wa’ damaged,’ said Joan, sure in the knowledge that Lacey could fix it.
Lacey grinned. ‘The braid wa’ definitely missing a stitch or two so I thought I’d just help things along.’ She picked at the air with her thumb and forefinger.
Joan stopped in her tracks. ‘Ooh, Lacey Barraclough, you never did.’
‘What’s a fingernail between friends?’ said Lacey, jiggling her fingers again. ‘Now, out of the thirty bob you started with you’ve got plenty left over for a pair of shoes and some new underwear.’
Inside the Market Hall with its huge glazed roof and architectural ironwork they purchased two pairs of cotton drawers, a vest and a petticoat and a pair of Moroccan leather shoes with high, curved heels. Moroccan leather being the cheapest, the shoes were stiff and uncomfortable but, as Lacey pointed out, Joan wouldn’t be wearing them too often. Flushed with success they boarded the bus back home, Joan ready for her big day.
*
Easter Saturday dawned bright and clear. In the churchyard, clumps of daffodils circled the boles of blossoming lilac and cherry trees. Inside the church Joan and Stanley solemnly exchanged vows, Joan looking gorgeous in her blue crepe suit and picture hat, Stanley nervous and ungainly in an ill-fitting brown suit. As Joan and Stanley became man and wife, Lacey’s thoughts were on Nathan.
After the ceremony the wedding guests gathered in front of the church to congratulate the happy couple. As they did so, a large shiny car drew up at the gates, its two female passengers alighting to watch the festivities. Joan deliberately tossed her bouquet in Lacey’s direction but, whilst she instinctively reached out and caught it, Lacey doubted the validity of the time honoured custom. The car and its passengers drove away, the wedding guests filing into the Church Hall.
‘Well, Mrs Micklethwaite, what does it feel like to be a married woman?’ Lacey asked, as they enjoyed tea and ham sandwiches and cakes and buns Edith had helped May Chadwick lay on for the wedding guests.
‘Can’t really say as yet,’ Joan replied, ‘I don’t feel any different. I’ll tell you better after me honeymoon.’ She tittered suggestively.
She and Stanley were going to Blackpool and had booked to stay overnight in a boarding house.
Lacey grinned wickedly. ‘You’ll find out afore that. You don’t go to Blackpool till tomorrow.’
Joan blus
hed. ‘Oh, I don’t think there’ll be much o’ that sort of thing happening tonight. I don’t think I could do it under Hettie Micklethwaite’s roof. She’ll be listening to every move we make.’
Knowing Joan dreaded the idea of living with her mother-in-law, Lacey lightened the mood. ‘Listening did you say? If I know Hettie Micklethwaite, she’ll be standing at the end of the bed telling you not to get up to any mucky tricks wi’ her Stanley.’
Joan burst out laughing.
Determined to bolster Joan’s spirits further, Lacey added, ‘you’ll find somewhere of your own soon enough, an’ whilst you are living with her, stand up to her. You’re a married woman now.’
*
The large, shiny car that had paused outside the church had now come to a halt on the gravel sweep outside Fenay Hall. The passengers tumbled out, the taller and prettier of the two girls stretching her arms wide and declaring, ‘Oh, it’s good to be home. I simply adored Switzerland but there’s no place like Garsthwaite.’
The huge oak front door swung open, the butler and the chauffeur attending to the baggage as Felicity Brearley flew into the arms of her parents.
Freed from Jonas’s grasp, Felicity turned to her companion. ‘Pardon my manners, Amelia. I’m so excited I forgot to introduce you. Mama, Papa, this is my friend Amelia McKenzie. She’s breaking her journey to stay with us for four days before she returns home to Scotland.’ Amelia made welcome, they trooped inside to the drawing room.
‘Come sit by me, darling,’ Constance urged Felicity, ‘tell us about Switzerland. You’ve hardly written a word to us in the past six months. I want to find out if that finishing school has made a lady of you.’
Felicity burst out laughing. ‘Mama, how dreadfully old fashioned you are.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘It was a dreary, dull place full of rules – but we made the best of it, didn’t we, Amelia.’ She winked broadly and Amelia winked back.
‘I’ll bet you did, you wicked girl.’ At the sound of Nathan’s voice, Felicity jumped up and ran into his open arms. He’d deliberately waited for the initial welcomes to be made before putting in an appearance.
He had arrived back from Northumberland late the previous night to Constance immediately quizzing him about Imogen. Nathan had answered rudely; her scheming had failed. If he couldn’t marry Lacey Barraclough then he’d stay single. He wouldn’t relinquish the Mill but neither would he provide them with future heirs. Constance had vented her disapproval; the homecoming had been ruined and now Nathan was uncomfortable in her presence.
Now, putting the horrors of the previous evening behind him, he danced his beloved sister across the drawing room; maybe Fliss would help ease the situation.
Over tea, Constance strove to divert Nathan’s attention to Amelia, pointing out that she was the daughter of a Laird with a castle in Argyll. Nathan was charming to Amelia but, whenever his mother’s eyes met his, he could barely hide his contempt. Felicity, quick to sense Nathan’s unhappiness, dominated the conversation.
‘We saw the most charming little wedding as we drove through Garsthwaite. I insisted Cheevers stop the car so we could get out and watch. The bride wore a gorgeous blue crepe suit and the bridesmaids were delightful in darker blue.’ She paused for breath before adding, ‘It was an unusually fashionable wedding for Garsthwaite; I wonder where on earth they purchased their outfits.’ She sounded both surprised and curious. She swivelled round in her chair to address Jonas. ‘I think the girls were from our Mill.’
‘Aye, a chap out of the dye house and a lass from the weaving, so I heard; Micklethwaite’s his name and she was Joan Chadwick.’ Jonas prided himself on knowing the names of all his employees and the major events affecting their lives.
Nathan leapt up. Now he knew exactly where to find Lacey. Gabbling excuses, he dashed from the room. All morning he’d contemplated where Lacey might be, it being Saturday. He didn’t dare call at Netherfold Farm for fear Joshua might object to the shabby way he’d treated his daughter.
In no time at all he arrived at the Church Hall, uncertain of his next move. He didn’t have long to wait before his mind was made up for him. The wedding reception over, the bride and groom stepped out of the Hall arm in arm, their guests crowding after them, cheering and yelling ribald remarks.
Lacey spotted Nathan before he saw her. For a moment she was rooted to the ground. Should she pretend she hadn’t seen him, and walk on by with the rest of the guests, she wondered? Then, before she reached a decision he was pushing his way through the crowd towards her, and even from a distance she could see the pleading in his eyes. Shoving the bouquet she had caught earlier and her own posy into a startled Maggie’s hands, Lacey ran towards him. Nathan met her halfway, his face alight with love and hope. Careless of the onlookers’ curiosity, he caught Lacey in his arms and held her close.
*
Up on Cuckoo Hill, seated on heather warmed by the sun’s strong rays, Nathan poured out his heart. In between kisses he explained the reason for his lengthy absence and about his confusion after Constance had suggested Jonas should disown him.
‘It isn’t that I want the Mill purely for financial gain or position. All my life I’ve dreamed of the day it would be mine to develop as I please. The process of making cloth intrigues me, and I’ve so many ideas both for the making of it and improving the way the Mill works, it just seemed so heartless to have it snatched away because of my love for you.’ He buried his head in his hands and when he raised it he gazed into Lacey’s face, beseeching her to understand.
‘And what did your father say to that?’ Lacey asked, her heart aching for him. She understood the quandary facing him.
Nathan’s brow puckered. ‘I didn’t stay to hear, but if he agreed with Mother then so be it. I would give it up for you, Lacey, of that there’s no doubt, but I’d rather have both you and the Mill, and I’ll do everything I can to make it so.’ He squeezed her hand tightly and gave her a wan smile before adding, ‘We’re not beaten yet.’
Lacey gazed thoughtfully into the distance. ‘Perhaps not,’ she said, ‘but if you gave up everything you’ve hoped and dreamed of to marry me, can we be sure it wouldn’t poison our love for one another – you regretting the choice you made and me feeling responsible for your loss?’
‘I would hope our love is strong enough to combat all that life might throw at us, no matter what path we choose, but for now we must concentrate on getting what is only right and fair.’ He flopped back on the heather, his face masked with anxiety.
‘Do you really think your father would disinherit you?’ Lacey asked dolefully, the weight of responsibility lying heavily in her heart.
Nathan sat upright, chuckling wryly. ‘Strangely enough he’s said very little throughout all the rows. He’s under the impression I’m sowing a few wild oats before I settle down. Apparently that’s what he did in his youth.’
Lacey drew a sharp breath. ‘The cheeky sod; what sort of a girl does he think I am?’
‘That’s just it. He doesn’t know you – and neither does my mother. But they soon will. I’ve thought things through properly this time. I’ll move heaven and earth to persuade them to meet you. It might take a while but I won’t be doing it alone. I’ve told my sister, Felicity, all about us. She’s offered to lend her support.’
Lacey was intrigued. ‘Is that the sister who was in Switzerland, finishing off her education? You mentioned her when we first met.’
Nathan smiled fondly. ‘That’s the one – my only sibling. Fliss has no patience with stuffy proprieties. She’s a very modern girl and does as she pleases.’
As they talked, the sun dipped over the edge of the moor, burnt orange rays streaking a purple sky, a sight so beautiful Lacey wanted to hold onto it. Taking it to be a good omen, she thought, maybe we can change the hearts and minds of those who are so hidebound by tradition they measure a person by wealth or social standing. Rich or poor, boss or employee, they actually encourage division of the classes. Out loud she said. ‘My lot are j
ust as bad as yours, you know. My Dad has you cast in the role of wicked squire and my Mam believes you’re just leading me on, that you’ll get me pregnant then dump me.’
‘Surely they don’t think that of me.’ Nathan’s shock apparent, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘In that case it’s up to me to alter their opinion.’ He took Lacey’s hand and pulled her upright and as they walked on, he said, ‘We’ll both have our work cut out convincing our parents we’re right for each other, and the only way to do that is for them to get to know us as we really are; yours to understand I’m not an aristocratic bounder, and mine to see that your breeding is equal to my own.’
‘Does this mean no more sly meetings?’ Lacey asked coquettishly. ‘Let everyone in Garsthwaite know about us. I think that lot at Joan’s wedding have already got the message.’
‘Indeed,’ said Nathan firmly. ‘From now on I’ll make regular visits to your home and you to mine. That way we’ll make them understand how much we love one another and that they can’t keep us apart.’
They sauntered hand in hand down Cuckoo Hill and before they parted Nathan begged her to be patient. ‘It might take some time but believe me, we’ll win.’
Feeling happier than she had felt for a long time, Lacey placed her trust in Nathan.
10
Lacey patiently waited for her loom to be gated. She’d finished a piece and now the tackler was busy setting the new warp between healds and reeds, ready for her to continue weaving. The process painstakingly slow, she waved one hand to attract Joan’s attention then placed the fingers of the other to her lips. Catching sight of the gesture, Joan nodded.
‘Well, what was it like?’ Lacey mouthed, her eyes dancing wickedly, her grin wide.
Joan’s cheeks turned pink at the mention of her honeymoon. ‘It wa’ lovely,’ she mouthed back, ‘just grand.’
The Girl from the Mill Page 8