Читать книгу Rags-to-Riches Bride - Mary Nichols - Страница 6

Chapter One

1837

‘Papa, you will make yourself ill if you do not take some nourishment,’ Diana said, leaning forward to take the half-empty glass of cognac from her father’s hand and put a plate of food on the table in front of him.

‘Not hungry.’

‘No, I am told strong drink dulls the appetite.’ She put his glass down on the table and sat down opposite him. He had once been robust, weatherbeaten from years at sea, a loving husband and beloved father who made their lives carefree and interesting, until four years before when his left arm had been amputated after a skirmish in the Indian Ocean and he had given in to his wife’s pleading to leave the service before it killed him. The loss of his arm and what he termed a life of uselessness on shore had started the downward slide, but while her mother was alive he had still been the father she knew and loved. Since Mama’s death he was not the same man at all.

‘We cannot go on like this, Papa. Something must be done.’

‘What about?’

‘How we are to manage.’

‘I have a pension.’

She sighed. ‘I know, but it is not enough.’ She was tempted to add that he drank most of it, but that would have been cruel and she desisted. Together with the tiny pension, he had left the service with a small accumulation of prize money but that had disappeared very quickly trying to keep up their hitherto comfortable way of life. They had been forced to dismiss their servants, sell their furniture and move into smaller accommodation, and when even that proved too much to maintain, to these two rooms in a boarding house in Southwark. These were poorly furnished; though Diana did her best to keep them clean, the grime seemed ingrained in the fabric of the tall, narrow tenement. It was difficult to maintain standards, but she was determined not to let them slide even further into poverty.

Her mother had made ends meet by taking in fine embroidery from a dressmaker in Bond Street, but now Mama was gone, worn out with the stress of it all, Diana knew she had to do something herself to keep the wolf from their door. She had no one to turn to, not a relative in the world that she knew of, and her father was becoming more and more hopeless.

If only he would rouse himself, he was not beyond a little light work, but he did not seem able to drag himself out of the pit he had dug for himself. In the two months since Mama’s death, he had spoken only briefly and then only when necessary, and he had hardly eaten at all. His diet consisted almost exclusively of strong liquor with which he hoped to achieve oblivion.

‘I must find work,’ she told him. ‘The rent is due and there is very little food in the larder.’

‘Do what your mama did.’

‘I tried that yesterday. Madame Francoise told me I was not skilled enough.’ That had rankled, considering she had been doing most of the work since her mother became too ill to do it herself, though they had never told Madame that. ‘Plain sewing, perhaps, but they had nothing to offer me; in any case, the wages for that make it no more than slave labour.’

‘We will manage.’ He reached for his glass and she gave up. It was up to her to do something. If she did not find work soon, she would have to sell her mother’s necklace. Mama had given it to her just before she died and Diana treasured it as a lasting memory. Its stones were a pale greenish colour, which she thought were opals, set in silver filigree. She doubted it was valuable—her father had never been wealthy enough to indulge in expensive trinkets—but it would be a dark day indeed when that had to go.

Swathed in mourning black in spite of the heat of a summer’s day, she left their lodgings and set out with a handful of advertisements culled from the newspaper, determined to find something, but everything she tried—lady’s companion, lady’s maid, governess to small children—all required her to live in and that she could not do. Who would look after her father if she did not come home to him every night? She thought of teaching, but her education had been so unconventional that she was not considered suitable, except at dame-school level and the pay for that was barely enough to feed her, let alone her father. Besides, she knew their landlady, Mrs Beales, would not allow her to use their lodgings for the purpose.

The man in the employment agency she tried was disparaging. ‘I could try for a position as a domestic servant,’ he said, ‘but I doubt you would suit. You need to be properly trained and experienced, and have excellent references…’ He paused to shrug his shoulders and look over his spectacles at her with a certain amount of compassion. This applicant had obviously been genteelly brought up, not in the highest echelons of society but high enough to exclude her from menial tasks. Beneath her large unbecoming bonnet, her complexion was unlined and unmarked, her hands were smooth and white; her clothes, though not the height of fashion, were well made in a good bombazine. ‘And in any case, you would need to live in.’

‘I cannot do that,’ Diana told him. ‘I have to look after my invalid father.’

‘Then I am afraid I cannot help you.’

She had known before she entered that it was hopeless. She thanked the man and set off she knew not where. Unwilling to go home with her mission unaccomplished, she walked down Regent Street and turned into Burlington Arcade. Perhaps she could obtain some plain sewing from one of the many fashion shops that traded on that busy thoroughfare—low pay was better than no pay at all. The shops were all high-class establishments, catering for the elite. Surely someone would employ her?

She stopped to look into the window of a shop displaying costly silks, ornaments and trinkets imported from India and the Orient. She had seen items like that on her travels being sold in noisy bazaars and market places, at a time when she had been happy and carefree. Better not dwell on that, she decided, turning away. And then her eye was drawn to a ticket in the window. ‘Clerk wanted,’ she read. ‘Conscientious and quick at figuring. A good hand essential. Apply within.’

Diana knew perfectly well they wanted a man; ladies simply did not do that kind of work, but she did not see why they could not if their skills were appropriate. She and her mother had often travelled abroad when her father had been posted to some far-off station and she had been taught by her parents, augmented by her own curiosity, about the sights and sounds of foreign places they visited, as well as through her reading, which was wide ranging. Surely that must count for something? She pushed open the door and her nostrils were immediately assailed by a mixture of spices and perfume, which had once been so familiar to her.

A tall gangly youth came towards her, a smile of welcome on his face, assuming she was a customer. It was no good stating her errand to him; she would be laughed off the premises. She drew herself up to her full five feet five inches and faced him squarely. ‘I would like to speak to the proprietor.’

‘Mr Harecroft?’

‘If that is his name, yes.’

‘Do you have an appointment?’

‘No, but he will see me. My name is Miss Diana Bywater.’

She made herself sound so confident that he did not doubt her. He asked her to wait and disappeared into the back of the premises, while she looked about her. The shop was spacious and well laid out. There were shelves full of bolts of silk, muslin, gingham and chintz in a rainbow of colours, and others displaying ivory ornaments, snuff boxes, fans and tea caddies. Towards the back were larger items, stools and intricately carved chests. These were the source of the exotic odours. She had not noted the name of the establishment and remedied the omission by going to the door and reading it from the facia. ‘Harecroft Emporium’ it said in gold lettering. She had barely returned inside when the young man came back.

‘Please follow me.’

She was conducted through a labyrinth of rooms, all packed with merchandise, and up a flight of stairs along a corridor lined with closed doors, then up a second flight and along another corridor to a door at the end, where the young man knocked and ushered Diana in. ‘Miss Bywater, sir.’

Diana walked into the room, trying not to let the man who rose to greet her see that she was shaking. He was in his middle years, his hair the colour of pepper sprinkled with salt and his eyes piercingly blue. He wore a dark grey frock coat and striped trousers. His collar was tall and stiffly white, his cravat slate grey. ‘Miss Bywater,’ he greeted her, holding out his hand. ‘How do you do.’

‘Very well, sir.’ She shook the hand and allowed herself a quick look about her. The room was large. The desk from which he had risen to greet her was in its centre, facing the door. One wall was covered in shelves containing ledgers and boxes, a large window occupied the middle of another wall and there were several upright chairs and two small tables. She was favourably impressed by its neatness and the fact that there was a square of good-quality carpet on the floor surrounded by highly polished boards. ‘You are the owner of this establishment?’

‘I am its proprietor. It is one of several under the Hare-croft banner. Please sit down.’ He resumed his own seat behind his desk and steepled his hands on it, waiting for her to state her business.

‘I see from the card in your window that you are seeking a clerk.’

‘We are indeed.’ Again he waited.

‘Then I am that clerk.’

‘You!’ He made no attempt to disguise his amusement. ‘You are a woman.’

‘So I am.’ She looked down at her skirt as if to confirm this, but really to renew her courage, before raising her eyes to meet his gaze. ‘Would you prefer a man? I could dress up in a man’s clothes and cut my hair. Would that make a difference?’

‘No, certainly not. Miss Bywater, you surely did not think I would entertain such a preposterous idea? My employees are all men, we have never employed women in the business—’

‘Now, that is not quite true.’ The voice came from behind Diana and she swivelled round to face a very old lady who had that moment entered the room. She was tiny, but very upright. Her snow-white hair was pulled up under a black bonnet with a purple feather curling round its brim. She wore an old-fashioned gown in purple taffeta and a short black cape. Her face was lined, but her eyes were the blue of a summer sky.

Diana realised almost at once that she must be related to Mr Harecroft and this was confirmed when he sprang to his feet and exclaimed, ‘Grandmother! What are you doing here?’

‘I have come to see you, since you have not been anywhere near Borstead Hall for months.’

‘We have been extremely busy, as you must know. Visitors to London are more numerous than usual what with all the goings on at court, foreign dignitaries arriving and everyone wanting black for the late King. Some are even buying material for their coronation clothes. They have money burning a hole in their purses, and who was it who taught me that the business must come first?’

The old lady laughed. ‘I did and I am a woman. So what is this young lady asking of you?’ She turned to Diana for the first time, a smile on her face. ‘Am I right in thinking you are here looking for work?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘I am Lady Harecroft. The dowager, of course,’ she said, blue eyes twinkling. ‘But I once worked alongside my husband in this enterprise and helped build it up from nothing, which is why I said my grandson was not correct in saying the company has never employed women. One of its instigators was a woman.’

‘That’s different,’ Mr Harecroft said.

Her ladyship ignored him. ‘Tell me, child, why do you need to work and what can you do?’

‘My father is an invalid and my mother died two months ago,’ Diana answered her. ‘I need to earn a living that will allow me to live at home and look after my father. As for what I can do, I can write in a good hand, I am familiar with adding, subtracting, fractions, decimals and computing percentages. Items such as you have displayed downstairs I have seen and handled in India and the Far East.’

‘You are very young to be so well travelled.’

‘I am eighteen, my lady, and my father was a sea captain. Mama and I often travelled to distant parts to be with him.’

‘What will he do when you are at work?’

‘He is not so incapacitated that he cannot amuse himself, my lady. He has lost an arm and that has weakened him, but I am hopeful he will improve day by day. The demise of my mother affected him badly.’

‘Have you no relatives?’

‘None that I know of. Both my parents were without siblings and their parents long dead.’

‘Then you do indeed carry a heavy burden.’ She turned back to her silent grandson. ‘John, give Miss… Oh, dear, I do not know your name.’

‘Diana Bywater, my lady.’

‘Good Lord!’ The smile faded suddenly, her eyes opened wide and she put her gloved hand to her mouth with a little cry before sitting heavily in the nearest chair.

Diana started up in alarm. ‘Ma’am, are you not well?’

Whatever it was that had disturbed her, the old lady recovered quickly and the smile was back. ‘I am extremely old, my dear, you must forgive my little lapses.’ She opened her fan and waved it vigorously in front of her face. ‘It is so hot today, I am quite worn out with it.’

‘You should not have attempted the stairs,’ her grandson said. ‘If you had sent a message, I could have come down to you. I will send for Stephen to take you home.’

‘Very well. But give Miss Bywater a trial. If she is as good as she says she is, it will not matter a jot that she is a female.’

‘Grandmother,’ he protested, ‘women cannot be expected to do such meticulous work. They do not have the constitution for it, nor the mental ability…’

‘Nonsense! You forget the country is ruled by a woman now.’

‘The new Queen will no doubt be guided at every step by her ministers and advisers. There is no comparison. And how can I put Miss Bywater in a room full of men? I will never get any work out of them.’

‘Then find her a corner to herself. I am sure she can deal with any unwarranted attention.’ She turned to Diana and scrutinised her carefully, her gaze ranging from her sensible boots, her simple black dress and three-quarter-length coat to her wide-brimmed bonnet, which hid most of her face. ‘Take that bonnet off, girl.’

Diana did as she was told, to reveal lustrous red-gold hair which she had attempted, not very successfully, to drag into a knot at the back of her head. The old lady gave a secretive little smile, which puzzled Diana. ‘You will hide that under a suitable cap when you are at work, my dear, and you will wear a plain gown, long-sleeved and buttoned to the neck, otherwise you’ll do. John, you may send for Stephen now.’

Mr Harecroft picked up a bell from his desk and gave it a vigorous shake. Almost at once the young man who had conducted Diana upstairs entered the room and was told to find Mr Stephen Harecroft and ask him to come. He looked at Diana as he turned to obey and gave her a smirk, which told her he had been listening on the other side of the door. Lady Harecroft had said she could deal with unwarranted attention and she must demonstrate that she could. She gave him a haughty look and replaced her bonnet.

She was wondering if she ought to leave, but she had not yet been appraised of her duties or told her hours of work and remuneration. She was not even sure that Mr Harecroft would give her a job after Lady Harecroft had gone. He had certainly said nothing that indicated he would, had said very little at all, leaving the talking to his grandmother. She sat with her hands in her lap and waited.

Stephen Harecroft was a younger version of John, in his early twenties, Diana guessed. He had similar clear blue eyes and a shock of pale gold hair with just a hint of red. ‘You sent for me, sir? I was busy checking that last consignment of silk. It’s not up to the same standard as the last batch. We shall have to have words with our suppliers.’ He turned to the old lady, his face lighting up with pleasure. ‘Great-Grandmama, you here? How are you?’ He bent to kiss her cheek.

‘Perfectly well, boy. I want you to escort me back to Hare-croft House. I will stay with you tonight and go home tomorrow.’

‘A pleasure, but who brought you?’

‘Richard, but he’s gone to a meeting. He will join us for dinner.’

‘A meeting?’ Mr Harecroft queried. ‘With whom?’

The old lady shrugged. ‘I don’t know. He didn’t say.’

‘Something to do with his book, I dare say,’ Stephen said. Suddenly seeing Diana, he stopped. ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am.’ This with a bow. ‘I did not see you there.’

‘Miss Bywater is coming to work here,’ Lady Harecroft said.

‘In what capacity?’

‘Clerk,’ his father said.

The young man did not trouble to hide his astonishment. ‘But—’

‘No buts, Stephen,’ her ladyship said. ‘Miss Bywater is in every way suitable and she needs to work, so you will do all you can to help her.’

He looked from his great-grandmother to his father, one eyebrow raised in a query. His father shrugged. It seemed to Diana that the old lady’s word was law and, however much they might disapprove, they dare not go against her. She watched as the young man escorted his venerable relative from the room, then turned to face Mr Harecroft.

‘Ahem…’ he began, twiddling a pen between his fingers. ‘I assume it is no good asking you for references?’

‘No good at all, sir, but I am willing to demonstrate my ability.’

He reached into a drawer and drew out a ledger, opening it at random. ‘Add that column of figures, if you please.’ She did so. After he had checked her accuracy, he asked her to work out seven and a half per cent of the total. This done, she was required to copy a column of figures. If he had hoped to catch her out, he was disappointed. The speed with which she came back with the correct answers startled him. ‘My father set me practising on the bills of lading on the ships he commanded,’ she told him. ‘I also worked out the percentages of the prize money for each member of the crew. It was Papa’s way of teaching me mathematics.’

‘It seems to have worked,’ he murmured. ‘What else did he teach you?’

She was relaxed enough to laugh. ‘Oh, so many things. How to steer by the stars, the tides and ocean currents, the geography of the ports where we called, what they imported and exported, what it cost and what it fetched when it arrived in England, some of the culture. He is a very knowledgeable man.’

‘But now unable to work himself?’

‘That is correct.’ She shut her mouth firmly on expanding on that. She did not want him to know about her father’s drinking. It was something of which she was ashamed, ashamed most particularly because she could not coax him away from it. And bullying him only made him angry. He was her father, he would tell her, she had no right to question what he did.

‘I will give you a month’s trial. Your pay will be thirty-five pounds per annum and you will work from eight in the morning to seven at night from Monday to Friday and from eight until two on Saturdays. The men are given an allowance for a suit of clothes, so you shall have enough for two gowns. Grey, I think. Is that agreeable?’

‘Yes, thank you, but I would like to be paid at the end of each week, considering I am to live at home.’

‘Very well.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘You can no doubt compute how much that will be yourself.’

‘When shall I start?’

‘Tomorrow.’ He opened a cash box and extracted three guineas which he offered to her. ‘For your dresses. They will remain the property of the company.’

She rose to take the coins and put them in her purse, then thanked him again and left. He did not ask anyone to escort her off the premises, assuming she would find her own way down to the shop floor. Only when she was safely out into the arcade did she let out a huge breath of relief and allow herself to smile. She had done it! Sheer effrontery had paid off. At least for a month. She had no doubt Mr Harecroft expected to be able to say at the end of that time that the experiment had not worked and he must part with her. She had to disappoint those expectations, which meant not only being as good as the men he employed, but better. At the end of the month she must have made herself almost indispensable.

And she did. At the end of the trial, he was obliged to admit she had earned her pay and told her she could stay. She was still there a year later.

So that she would not distract the men she worked in solitary splendour in a little cubby hole on the second floor. Luckily it had a window which looked out onto the street at the back the shop, which she could open to let in a little air. She was doing that one hot day in June 1838, when she spotted the Harecroft carriage drawing up outside. She leaned out to see who had arrived and saw Lady Harecroft being escorted into the building.

Diana had not seen her ladyship since she joined the company the year before, and assumed her great age had precluded any more uncomfortable coach journeys from her home in Berkshire. But here she was. What had prompted her make the trip, especially in the heat of summer? There was no need for her to come shopping; anything she needed could be sent to her.

In the time she had been working at Harecroft’s she had discovered a great deal about the business and the hierarchy of the family who ran it. At its apex was the redoubtable dowager Lady Harecroft. Her husband, plain George Hare-croft then, had made his fortune in India where he worked for the British East India Company. Returning with his pockets jingling, he had not only married Lady Caroline Carson, the seventeen-year-old daughter of the Earl of St Albans, but, when Britain’s textile manufacturers forced the end of the East India Company’s monopoly of trade with the subcontinent, had set up Harecroft Importing and Warehousing from premises on the docks, which still belonged to the company and still figured largely in its affairs. Two years later his uncle died without issue and he became the second Baron Harecroft and inherited Borstead Hall near Ascot in Berkshire.

‘Everyone expected him to give up the business and live the life of an aristocrat, but he chose to continue building it up,’ Stephen had told her soon after her arrival. He had overcome his initial shock at her being employed and had assiduously obeyed his great-grandmother’s injunction to help her all he could. ‘I am told it caused no end of gossip, but he was never one to listen to tattle and he was encouraged by my great-grandmother who was, and is, a very unusual woman. Now we have a thriving import-and-export business and several shops besides this one. Great-Grandfather died some years ago and my grandfather took the title. He left the business then to concentrate on the estate where he breeds and trains race horses. My father took over here. One day, the warehouse and shops will be in my hands. Richard, of course, will eventually inherit the title and the estate in Berkshire.’

‘Richard is your brother?’

‘Yes. He is older than me by three years, but he disdains working in the business. He and Papa fell out over it years ago. He was in the army for a time, but now he says he is writing a book, though what it is about I do not know.’

‘Is he married?’

‘No. I do not think he is the marrying kind.’ And then he had abruptly changed the subject, talking about the estate and his grandfather’s love of horses and his great-grandmother, who would be ninety the following month.

That same almost ninety-year-old was even now being helped into the building by a young man Diana supposed was Mr Richard Harecroft. She hurried along the corridor and knocked on her employer’s door. ‘Mr Harecroft,’ she said, when he bade her enter. ‘The Dowager Lady Harecroft has just entered the building. I saw her from my window.’

‘Good Lord!’ he exclaimed, looking up from the paperwork on his desk. ‘How did she get here?’

‘By carriage, sir. There is a young man with her.’

‘Richard, I’ll be bound. Go down and make sure she is comfortable in the staff dining room. We cannot have her wandering all over the shop. Do not let her attempt to climb the stairs; the last time she did that, it nearly finished her. I will be down directly.’

Diana turned to go downstairs. At the bottom of the stairs was a full-length mirror and she paused long enough to check her appearance. Her grey dress was plain except for a few tucks down the bodice. It had tight sleeves and a high neck as her ladyship had dictated. Her hair had been drawn back under a white cap. She smiled at herself; she had obeyed Lady Harecroft’s instruction to cover her head, but it made her look almost matronly. What she did not realise was that her flawless complexion and neat figure gave the lie to that and her wide intelligent grey eyes made everyone, young and old, want to smile at her in a kind of conspiratorial way as if they knew she was playing a part.

‘Peaches and cream,’ her father had said, when he was in one of his more affable moods. ‘Just like your mother.’ Her mother had been slightly taller and her hair had been dark, but Diana was like her in other ways, intelligent, doggedly determined not to be beaten and sympathetic to other people’s problems without being soft. She had fitted into Harecroft’s well and though her male colleagues had been wary at first, most had come to accept her and sometimes brought their troubles to her sympathetic ear. Even Mr Stephen Harecroft.

She could not make up her mind about him. It had not taken her long to realise that Stephen idolised his father and would do anything to please him. At first he had talked to her about her work, but then they had gone on to speak of other things: what was happening in the world outside the business; the coming coronation of Queen Victoria, which had the whole country in a ferment of excitement; the recent publication of a People’s Charter, which had the nation split down the middle; the great technological advances being made; music, literature, the things they liked and disliked. Their little talks led to strolls in the park on a Saturday afternoon after work had finished for the day, and the occasional visit to a concert or a lecture. Only the day before he had asked her to accompany him to a Grand Ball to be held at Almack’s the evening following the coronation.

Was he just being kind or was he seriously courting her? Flattered as she was, she could not think of marriage while her father needed her. He had been much better of late and she was hopeful he was over the worst, but she was still careful not to give him any cause to relapse. One day she hoped they might move out of the shabby rooms they now occupied into something better; in the meantime, her address and her father’s affliction were secrets she guarded carefully. If Mr Harecroft were to learn about either, she was quite sure his attitude towards her would change; he might even find the excuse he needed to dismiss her. She must find a way to discourage young Mr Harecroft, meanwhile, there was his great-grandmother to deal with.

She found the old lady sitting in a gilded chair in the front of the shop, surrounded by fabrics, talking to Stephen. There was no sign of Richard. It appeared he had done as he had the year before: brought the old lady and left her.

‘Good afternoon, Lady Harecroft,’ Diana said.

The old lady turned to survey her, a wry smile lighting her features. ‘Good afternoon, young lady. Have you come to keep me in order?’

‘Oh, no, my lady. Mr Harecroft senior bade me greet you and make you comfortable in the staff dining room. He will join you directly.’

Her ladyship chuckled. ‘And I am to be prevented from wandering all over the shop, is that not so?’

‘My lady?’

‘Oh, you do not need to answer me. I know my grandson. But tell me, what do you think of this silk?’ She plucked at a length of the material to show Diana.

‘It is very fine.’

‘That may be so, but is it worth the exorbitant price I believe was paid for it?’

Diana was in a quandary. The desire to give an honest opinion did battle with her need to be diplomatic and she strove to find an answer that would satisfy both. ‘I think it might be a little overpriced, my lady, but in today’s market, with everyone vying to be seen to advantage for the coronation, it is selling well.’

‘Exactly what I said,’ Stephen put in.

The old lady smiled and pulled herself to her feet. ‘Escort me, Miss Bywater. We can have a little chat before my grandson joins us.’ She took Diana’s arm and together they made their way to a small room at the back of the ground floor that had been set aside for the staff to eat the mid-day meal they brought with them. It also had a fireplace and facilities for making tea. Once her ladyship had been seated, Diana set the kettle on the fire and stirred the embers to make it blaze.

‘How do you like working for Harecroft’s, Miss Bywater?’

‘Very much. I am grateful to you for affording me the opportunity to do something interesting.’

‘My grandson tells me you are quick to learn.’

‘I try to be.’

‘And Stephen sings your praises constantly.’

‘Does he?’ The kettle boiled and Diana used the distraction of making tea to cover her confusion. What had Stephen been saying? ‘My lady, I hope you do not think I have set out to…’ She stumbled over what she wanted to say.

‘No, of course not. Ah, here is John.’ She turned to her grandson. ‘John, you are paying far too much for your silk these days.’

‘It is the going rate, for the best quality, Grandmother. I cannot afford to drop standards. Besides, people are prepared to pay good money to appear in the latest fabrics for the festivities.’ He sat down next to her. ‘But you did not come here to talk about the price of silk, did you?’

‘No, I did not. I decided I had mouldered long enough in the country. I came to attend the coronation and to give you notice that I intend to have a house party.’

‘Oh?’ One bushy eyebrow lifted.

‘I am to reach the grand age of ninety next month, as you know…’

‘You won’t if you insist on racketing about town.’

His grandmother ignored him and continued as if he had not spoken. ‘And I wish to mark the occasion with a party.’ She accepted a cup of tea from Diana, who also put one in front of John and turned to leave them. ‘Stay,’ the old lady commanded, waving an ebony walking stick at her. ‘Pour a cup for yourself.’

‘Grandmother, what are you talking about?’ John asked, answering Diana’s questioning look with a nod. ‘You cannot possibly have a party. It will be too much for you.’

‘I decide what is too much for me. Besides, we have a houseful of servants at Borstead Hall, idle half the time—it won’t hurt them to stir themselves. Alicia will arrange it. I want all the family to stay the weekend. Friends and acquaintances will be invited for the Saturday only.’

‘Why?’ he asked, mystified.

‘Why? How often does a woman reach the age of ninety and still be in possession of all her faculties? I fully intend to be a hundred, but just in case I do not achieve it, I will have my celebration on Saturday, July the twenty-first.’

‘What does my father say about this?’

‘Nothing.’ She smiled mischievously. ‘He knows he will lead a much more peaceful life if he humours me. And William does like a peaceful life, looking after the estate and his beloved horses.’

‘And Aunt Alicia?’

‘Alicia too. I mean to have a really big day, with my family and friends around me, plenty to eat and drink and fireworks to round it off.’

‘It will kill you.’

‘Then I will die happy.’

Diana was beginning to feel uncomfortable; she did not want to be a witness to a family argument, and she did have work to do. She stood up to leave, just as Stephen joined them. ‘Good, there’s tea,’ he said.

Diana fetched another cup and saucer from the cupboard and poured tea for him.

‘Great-Grandmama, will you ask Miss Bywater to your party?’ he asked, making Diana gasp.

‘Of course. The young lady will be welcome.’

‘You knew about it?’ his father asked him.

‘Great-Grandmama told me when she arrived. I am looking forward to it.’

‘And who is going to look after the shop if we all dash off to Borstead Hall?’ John demanded. ‘Miss Bywater has to work on Saturdays and so do you.’

‘On this occasion, I expect you to make an exception.’ This from Lady Harecroft.

‘Oh, no,’ Diana put in. ‘You must not do that. It would set a bad example.’

‘Do not tell me what I must not do, girl,’ her ladyship snapped.

Diana blushed furiously. ‘I beg your pardon. I did not mean to be rude.’

‘Do you not care to come?’ Stephen asked, aggrieved. ‘I am sure you will enjoy it.’

‘I am sure I would, but I cannot leave my father while I go into the country.’

‘Bring him too,’ her ladyship said. ‘It is time we all met him.’

‘I am afraid he is not well enough, my lady.’ Diana was beginning to panic. Her father was not yet stable enough to pay calls, and a party where there was bound to be wine and punch might set him off again. Flattered as she was to be asked, and much as she would have liked a break from routine, to dress up, live in a little splendour and pretend that her life had never had that treacherous downhill slide, she could not risk it.

‘Miss Bywater’s father is an invalid,’ John said. ‘She explained about that when she first came to us.’

‘So she did. But no matter, we can arrange for him to be looked after for a day or two. Problems like that are not insurmountable.’

‘I am sure he would not agree,’ Diana said. The old lady’s family might defer to her, but on this matter she was going to find herself thwarted. She would not subject her father to the indignity of being looked after, as if he were a child packed off to the nursery when his presence became inconvenient. And she did not know why Stephen was so anxious she should be one of the party.

‘I think you must allow Miss Bywater to decline without bullying her, Grandmother,’ John said. ‘And you know, we are very busy and it is not altogether convenient for me to drop everything to take you home when you arrive unexpectedly.’

‘You don’t need to.’ Her voice held a note of asperity. ‘Richard brought me. He has gone to the House of Commons and then he is coming back for me.’

‘House of Commons?’ Mr Harecroft senior demanded. ‘Since when has he interested himself in politics?’

‘You must ask him that. I am not his keeper.’

Diana had been inching her way towards the door in order to escape and was reaching for its handle when it was opened and she found herself half-hidden behind it, sucking a little finger that had been caught in the handle.

The newcomer turned to shut the door and saw her. ‘I beg pardon, I did not see you hiding there.’

She met his blue-eyed gaze and something inside her turned a somersault. He was a much bigger version of Stephen; he was taller, his shoulders broader, the red-gold of his hair more pronounced—a characteristic she concluded all the family had to a greater or lesser degree—his eyes were bluer and his mouth fuller. She realised with a little stab of guilt that he made his brother look drab and colourless, particularly as in contrast to Stephen’s grey suit, he was wearing a brown frock coat, light brown trousers and a pale fawn cravat. It was not only his size and his clothes, his presence dominated the room. He exuded power and self-assurance. She could easily imagine him as a serving officer, in full command of his men. ‘I was not hiding, I was about to leave,’ she said, finding her voice at last.

‘Oh, please do not leave on my account.’ He stopped suddenly, unable to take his eyes from her face. She seemed so familiar he felt he ought to know her. She was plainly dressed and wore an unbecoming cap that hid most of her hair, but her complexion was flawless and her eyes reminded him of the plumage of a dove, a soft blue-grey. Her lips were pink and firm and at that moment were sucking a little finger; it was an incredibly sensuous act, made more so because she appeared totally unaware of the effect she was having. ‘Does it hurt?’

She took it from her mouth to answer him. ‘No, it is nothing.’

‘Richard, may I present Miss Diana Bywater,’ Stephen said, stepping between them. ‘Miss Bywater, my brother, Richard.’

‘How do you do?’ he said, wondering why Stephen found it necessary to introduce someone who was so obviously a servant. It did not bother him, but his family were sticklers for form.

She bowed her head. ‘Mr Harecroft.’

He nodded towards the table where the teapot and the used cups and saucers were evidence of the refreshment they had been enjoying before he arrived. ‘Are you going to pour me a cup of tea?’

‘I am afraid it must be cold by now. I will make a fresh pot if you like.’

‘Miss Bywater, you have those accounts to complete before the end of the working day,’ John reminded her.

‘Accounts?’ Richard queried. ‘Oh, you must be the young lady who had the temerity to apply for a man’s job. I heard all about it from Great-Grandmother.’

She smiled. ‘Yes, though why it should be called a man’s job I do not know. It is mental work and does not require strength. I do exactly the same work as the gentlemen clerks without concessions to my gender. Now, please excuse me, I must return to it. Good afternoon, Lady Harecroft.’ She turned to go and Stephen sprang to open the door for her.

She thanked him and escaped to the sanctuary of her own room. Arriving breathless, she shut the door behind her and stood leaning against it. The encounter with the elder of the two brothers had shaken her. She did not know what she had expected, but she felt she had been buffeted by a whirlwind, and all in the space of a few fleeting minutes.

She crossed to the window just in time to see her ladyship being handed into her carriage by Richard. He was taking enormous trouble to make sure she was comfortable before getting in himself. She watched as the carriage made its way down the busy street and disappeared round the corner, before returning to the ledger she had left an hour before.

It was difficult to concentrate. Quite apart from that strange encounter with Mr Richard Harecroft, the invitation to the party, the assumption that she would foist the care of her father on to someone else in order to enjoy herself with a group of people who were materially and socially way above her, vexed her. She cared too much for her father to do that to him. She would have to be firm, but would that cost her her job? She could not afford to lose it, for where else could she find something so congenial and so well paid? Without her wages, she and her father would sink even lower in the social scale.

Stephen came into the room and sat on the corner of the table at which she worked. ‘Do not let my brother upset you, Miss Bywater.’

‘He did not upset me, whatever gave you that idea?’

‘Good. Every family is supposed to have a black sheep and I suppose he is ours.’

‘He did not look like a sheep to me.’

‘No, perhaps I should have said wolf.’

‘Not that either,’ she said, though when she remembered those blue eyes almost devouring her, she did wonder. ‘More like a lion with that mane of golden hair.’

‘Hmm.’ He seemed to consider this and then dismissed the idea. ‘Whichever it is, we do not need to see much of him at Borstead Hall. He lives in the dower house.’

‘He lives with your great-grandmother?’

‘No, Great-Grandmama lives with my grandfather in the big house. He says she is too old to live by herself and he needs to keep an eye on her, so she told Richard he could use the dower house. He shares it with a couple of penniless artists and his mi—’ He stopped suddenly, his voice so twisted with bitterness, she looked at him sharply, but he quickly recovered himself. ‘I do not suppose we shall see anything of them.’

She wondered what he had been about to let slip; it sounded as if he were going to say mistress, but surely his brother would not live with such a one so close to the family home? ‘What does your great-grandmother think of his friends?’

‘Oh, she does not mind them. She has a soft spot for Richard.’

‘He seems very fond of her.’

‘Yes, she is the only one who can get Richard to do what she wants.’

She realised suddenly that he was jealous of his brother, even though he enjoyed more of his father’s favour. It was all to do with the old lady. ‘I wish you had not asked her ladyship to invite me to her party,’ she said.

‘Why not? We will have a splendid time.’

‘We will not, because I cannot accept the invitation.’

‘Why not?’

‘I have to work. And I cannot leave my father.’

‘He is an invalid, isn’t he? I did not know that until you mentioned it today. Are you always so secretive?’

‘I am not secretive,’ she said, feeling the colour rising in her face. ‘Your father and great-grandmother knew and there has been no reason why I should make a point of telling you. It did not come out in the course of conversation, that’s all.’

‘What is the matter with him?’

She took a deep breath. ‘He was invalided out of the navy five years ago when he lost his arm and then my mother died and his nerves have been badly affected.’ It was not really a lie, she told herself, just not the whole truth.

‘Father can hire a nurse in for him or arrange for him to go into a comfortable nursing home so that he is looked after. If he does, you will come, won’t you?’

‘I do not think so. I cannot put Mr Harecroft to the trouble and it upsets Papa if his normal routine is changed.’

‘You are just making excuses. You heard my great-grandmother say she expected us all to go and my father will not go against her. The Dowager Lady Harecroft angry is an awesome sight, I can tell you.’

‘I do not see why she should be angry with me. I am not family.’

‘I am hoping that in the fullness of time you will be.’

She looked up from the ledger on the desk and stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I had intended to give you time to get to know me properly before proposing, but Great-Grandmama has precipitated it. But surely you guessed?’

‘No.’ She felt as though she was being carried along, tossed about like a leaf on the wind, as if she had no will of her own and it annoyed her.

He left the desk, walked round behind her and took the pen from her nerveless fingers, laid it down and clasped her hand in both his own. ‘Miss Bywater—Diana—would you consider a proposal of marriage from me?’

It was a very roundabout way of asking her, she thought, almost as if he were not altogether sure that was what he wanted. He had said nothing of his feelings towards her. Did he love her or was he simply looking for a helpmate in the business? Did she love him? He had not even asked that crucial question. If he had done so, she would not have been able to answer it. But it did not matter; she could not, would not, leave her father and she could not see the Harecroft family taking him to their collective bosom.

‘Mr Harecroft,’ she said, ‘I am an employee, I need my job and you are putting me in a difficult position.’

‘I do not see why. If you accept me, then you need work no longer, or only as long as you wish to. You have fitted into the business very well—in fact, I sometimes think you know more about it than I do—and fitting into Harecroft’s is more than half the battle.’

‘I do not want a battle, Mr Harecroft, I want to be left alone to do my job. And now, if you please, I must get on with it. I am lagging behind today.’

He let go of her hand and straightened up. ‘Very well, but I shall ask you again, perhaps at Great-Grandmother’s party. Yes, on reflection, that will be the ideal time. I will say no more until then.’

‘I have said I cannot go.’

‘Oh, you will,’ he said with infuriating confidence. ‘The Dowager Lady Harecroft will brook no refusal.’

Before she could reply, he was gone and she was left staring down at a column of figures that seemed to dance about on the page so that it took her three attempts to total them correctly.