Читать книгу The Husband Season - Mary Nichols, Mary Nichols - Страница 7
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Miss Sophie Cavenhurst was not renowned for her patience or tact. Nor, come to that, for her common sense. This lack was balanced by a comely face and figure, a soft heart and a sunny disposition. Young gentlemen frequently proposed and were as frequently turned down. ‘You see,’ she would say with a smile meant to soften the blow, ‘it just would not do.’ Which, according to her fond papa, showed she had more sense than she was generally credited with.
The trouble was that Sophie measured all prospective husbands against the husbands of her two older sisters, and her swains had always been found wanting. Mark, Lord Wyndham, who was Jane’s husband, was gentle and kind and dependable; Isabel’s husband, the recently knighted Sir Andrew Ashton, was dashing and exciting and was always taking Isabel off to foreign climes to have adventures. They were both wealthy, though their wealth came to them in very different ways: Mark’s through inheritance, Drew’s through international trade. None of the suitors who had asked for her hand in marriage came anywhere near them.
One thing she did not want was a scapegrace like her brother, though she loved him dearly. It had taken a really bad shock and a spell in India for him to come to his senses. To give him his due he had saved the family bacon when it looked as though they would lose everything, including their home, and for that she would forgive him almost anything, even the way he teased her.
‘Sophie, you have exhausted all the eligibles in the neighbourhood,’ he told her one day in April. ‘You are fast earning a reputation for being hard to please.’
‘What is wrong with that? Marriage is a big decision. I don’t want to make a mistake like Issie very nearly did.’
‘And as a consequence will likely end up an old maid.’
‘That’s why I want a Season in London. I would meet new people there.’
‘A Season?’ he asked in surprise. ‘When did you think of that?’
She could not tell him she was afraid she was falling in love with Mark and that simply would not do. She had decided that the best cure was to leave Hadlea for a time and try to find a husband to equal him. What better way than a Season in London? ‘I have been thinking about it for a long time,’ she said. ‘Lucy Martindale is having one this year and she talks of nothing else.’ The Martindales had an estate ten miles from Hadlea and Sophie had known Lucinda since they were at school together. They corresponded frequently and often visited each other.
‘I can quite see you would not want to be left behind, but what does our esteemed father say to the idea?’
‘I haven’t asked him yet.’
‘I doubt you will persuade him to take you. You know how coach travel always makes Mama ill, and he would not leave her behind.’
‘I know that,’ she said with a sigh. ‘But if Papa won’t take me, you will, won’t you?’
‘Good heavens! Whatever gave you that notion?’
‘Well, who else will?’
‘Ask Jane.’ No one in the family seemed to have given up the habit of saying, ‘ask Jane,’ whenever a problem raised its head.
‘Jane is too wrapped up with her baby to leave him, you know that, and Issie is on the high seas somewhere. If you agree to take me, then Papa can have no objection, can he?’
‘Ask him first.’
She found her father in the morning room reading the newspaper, sent down every day from London. He liked to keep abreast of the news, though very little of it was good. There was unrest everywhere, especially in the industrial north, and frequent demonstrations for parliamentary reform, not to mention the unpopularity of the Prince Regent and rumours that he was about to divorce his wife, from whom he was separated. Such a thing was unheard of and set a very bad example to the populace. There was a rumour that, since the death of his daughter and her baby, he was anxious to marry again and produce a legitimate heir. His brothers, none of who had legitimate heirs but plenty of illegitimate ones, were all hastily trying to marry and have children. So far only the Duke of Kent had made any progress in that direction; his duchess was enceinte.
He laid the paper aside when his youngest daughter tripped into the room, all winning smiles. ‘Papa, dear Papa,’ she wheedled, ‘I have a request to make.’
He smiled. ‘And I have no doubt it will cost me money.’
She squatted down on a footstool near him. ‘Yes, I suppose it must, but I know you would not like to disappoint me.’
‘Go on,’ he said patiently.
‘I should like a Season in London.’
‘A Season,’ he repeated. ‘I expected to be asked for a new gown or some such frippery, but a Season! Where did you get that idea?’
‘All young ladies of any standing have come-out Seasons. It is how they find husbands. You would not wish me to be an old maid, would you?’
‘I doubt there is any fear of that.’
‘It is what Teddy said. He said there were no eligibles left hereabouts, so I must look farther afield. He will take me, if you cannot.’
‘I would not lay such a burden on his shoulders, Sophie.’
‘Then, will you and Mama take me?’
‘Sophie, there is no question of you having a Season this year or any other,’ he said. ‘We are not so well up in society as to aspire to such heights. It would cost a prodigious amount of money, which I am afraid cannot be spared. Neither of your sisters had a Season...’
‘But they did go and stay with Aunt Emmeline in Mount Street.’
‘Sophie, they stayed with her for two weeks, and the purpose of the visit was not a come-out as you know very well. They both found their husbands without recourse to balls and assemblies and tea parties.’
‘Yes, but where am I to find another Mark or Drew if I don’t go where I might meet them?’
‘Mark and Andrew are estimable young men, but why would you want a husband like them?’
The reason was her secret, so she simply said, ‘They are my ideal.’
He laughed. ‘Sophie, you will find the right man for you, all in good time. There is no hurry. You are but nineteen years old. Indeed, too much haste could very well end in disaster.’
‘So you will not let me go?’
‘I am afraid not. Now leave me to my newspaper.’
Drooping with disappointment, she left him to find her mother. Lady Cavenhurst was in the garden cutting daffodils from the hundreds that grew there. Sophie poured her woes into her mother’s ears. ‘You will persuade him, won’t you, dearest Mama? You know how important the right connections are to a young lady. There is no hope that I will find a suitable husband in a backwater like Hadlea.’
Her ladyship continued to cut the flowers and lay them in a trug on her arm. ‘Why this sudden urge to be married, Sophie?’
‘It is not sudden. I have been thinking about it ever since Jane and Issie were wed and I felt I should make a push to find a husband like Mark or Drew.’
‘You have set your sights very high, child.’
‘Why not? Is that a fault?’
‘No, dear, of course not.’
‘So will you speak to Papa? Aunt Emmeline would have me, would she not?’
‘Your aunt Emmeline is old, Sophie. I doubt she goes out and about very much nowadays.’
‘Teddy said he will escort me, so you will speak to Papa?’
Her mother sighed. ‘I will talk to him, but if he has made up his mind there will be no shifting him and I will not press him.’
‘Thank you, Mama.’
Having obtained that concession, which would have to do for the time being, Sophie went back indoors. If the answer was still no, she would have to marshal further arguments. She hurried to her room, put on a bonnet and shawl and set off to call on her sister at Broadacres.
Broadacres was a magnificent estate about three miles’ distant from Greystone Manor. It was not as old as the manor, but much grander. A long drive led to a carriage sweep and a truly magnificent facade with dozens of long windows. Cantilevered steps led to a massive oak door. The vestibule had a chequered marble floor and a grand staircase. She was admitted by a footman. ‘Her ladyship is probably in the nursery,’ he said. ‘Shall I go tell her you are here?’
‘No, I will go find her.’
Sophie was perfectly familiar with the layout of the house and soon found her way up to the nursery suite, where her sister was playing on the floor with her ten-month-old son, Harry. She scrambled to her feet when Sophie entered. ‘Sophie, what brings you here? There is nothing wrong at home, I hope.’
‘No, everyone is well. Can’t I visit my sister when I feel like it?’
‘Of course, anytime. You know that.’ She rescued Harry from a cupboard he had crawled into to investigate. ‘I was thinking of wheeling Harry out for a little fresh air. Shall you come, too?’
‘Yes, I should like that.’
Instructions were given to the nursemaid to put warm clothes on the infant and bring him down to the back hall where his baby carriage was kept.
‘Now, tell me what goes on at Greystone,’ Jane said as they went to her room for her to put on outdoor shoes, a shawl and bonnet.
‘Nothing. It is as boring as ever. I want to go to London. I asked Papa for a Season.’
‘And you think that might relieve your boredom?’
‘Well, it would, wouldn’t it? And I might find a husband.’
‘So you might. You might find one here in Norfolk, too.’
‘Teddy says I have exhausted all the eligibles from here.’
Jane laughed. ‘How many proposals have you had?’
‘Well, there was Mr Richard Fanshawe, who is as ill mannered as anyone could possibly be and stormed off in a huff when I rejected him. Then Sir Reginald Swayle, who affects to be a dandy but only succeeds in looking ridiculous, and Lord Gorange, who is positively ancient and has two motherless children. I wonder at Papa even allowing him to speak to me. I can’t marry anyone like that, can I?’
‘I can see your point. What did Papa say about a Season?’ Jane had finished putting on her shoes and was looking in the mirror to tie the ribbons of her bonnet, and her remarks came to Sophie through her reflection.
‘He said no.’
They left the room and went downstairs to where the nursemaid waited with Harry, who was sitting in his carriage beaming at everyone. ‘He will soon be walking,’ Jane said as she wheeled him out of doors and down a path that led into the surrounding park and gardens. ‘He can already pull himself up on the furniture. And I heard him say papa the other day when Mark came into the nursery. Mark is a doting father, you know.’
‘Yes, I do know, and you are a doting mama. I declare that nursemaid has too little to do.’
‘I love being with my son, Sophie, and would be with him all day, but I do have duties which require me to be from him, and then Tilly has plenty to do.’
Sophie knew one of her sister’s abiding passions beside her husband, child and home was the orphanage she had set up in nearby Witherington. She often spent time there herself, helping with the children. ‘You would not leave him to come to London for a while?’
‘No, Sophie, I would not. Is that the reason you are here today—to persuade me to take you?’
‘I guessed you would not. Teddy would take me, but Papa says he is not up to the responsibility.’
‘Papa has a point.’
‘I don’t know why you are all so against Teddy. Since he came back from India, he has been the model of decorum.’
Jane laughed. ‘Hardly that. He seems to have dissipated most of the money he had left after he saved Greystone.’
‘At any rate, he has done nothing untoward, and if we stayed with Aunt Emmeline...’
‘You have worked it all out, haven’t you? What do you want me to do?’
‘Persuade Papa that Teddy can be trusted to look after me. Mama said she will do what she can, but if you spoke to Papa, too, it would help.’
‘Why this sudden urge to go to London?’
‘It is not sudden. I have been thinking of it ever since you and Issie first went, but there were always reasons why I could not. First there was that business over Lord Bolsover, and then the court was in mourning for Princess Charlotte and her baby, and last year old Queen Charlotte died, but I cannot see why I shouldn’t go this year. I have never been to London. You have been several times and Issie has been all over the world. It just is not fair. I shall end up an old maid.’
‘Oh, Sophie, that is highly unlikely,’ Jane said, laughing. ‘There are not many young ladies can boast of having turned down three offers at your age.’
‘But not from the right man.’
‘So, tell me, what would the right man be like? Bear in mind perfection is unattainable.’
‘I don’t want to him be perfect, that would be boring, but he must love me and I must love him, just as you and Mark love each other.’
‘That goes without saying, but what will make you love him, do you think?’
‘He must be tall and handsome and have a fine figure...’
‘That, too, goes without saying.’
Sophie was well aware that her sister was teasing her, but carried on. ‘He must be kind and generous and dependable.’
‘Admirable traits. I commend your good sense.’
‘But on the other hand, I should like him to be exciting, to make my heart beat faster, to take me by surprise sometimes...’
‘Surprises can sometimes not be pleasurable.’
‘I meant pleasant surprises, of course. You are not taking me seriously, Jane.’
‘I am, indeed I am. But you might well find that when you do fall in love, he will be none of those things or perhaps only some of them. Falling in love is not something you can order, like a new bonnet or a new pair of shoes, it just happens.’
‘I know that, but it is never going to happen in Hadlea, is it?’
‘It did to me.’
‘Yes, but there is only one Mark.’
‘I know that.’ Jane smiled. ‘You are quite set on this, I can see. I will ask Mark’s opinion and if he says he can see no harm in it, then I will speak to Papa.’
‘Oh, you are the best of sisters. Thank you, thank you.’
Confident of success, Sophie turned to other subjects: gossip and clothes, Harry’s newly acquired accomplishments, the latest doings of the children at the Hadlea Home and speculation on where Isabel might be and how long before they would see her again.
‘The last letter I had from her was written in India, but she and Drew were about to leave for Singapore,’ Jane said. ‘Have you heard anything more recent?’
‘No, Mama received a similar letter. According to Teddy, Drew has his eye on trade with the Orient and will very likely buy another ship. If he and Issie were to come home by the time the Season begins, they might sponsor me.’ A statement that proved her come-out was never very far from her thoughts. ‘But I cannot depend upon it.’
‘No, better not.’
They turned back the way they had come, Harry was returned to his nursemaid and Jane ordered tea to be brought to the drawing room. ‘Mark has gone to Norwich,’ she said to explain the absence of her husband. ‘I had hoped he would be back by now, but his business must be taking longer than he thought. I will speak to him, Sophie, I promise you, but do not expect miracles.’
Half an hour later Sophie set off for home with a light step.
* * *
Two days later, Mark and Jane brought Harry to visit his grandparents. There was nothing unusual in this; they were frequent visitors, but Sophie immediately assumed they had come on her behalf and joined them in the drawing room. ‘I am so glad to see you,’ she said, taking Harry from his mother and sitting down with him.
‘Naturally, we all are,’ her mother said. ‘But I suspect your enthusiasm has something to do with this idea for having a Season. Am I right?’
‘I thought Jane might help.’
Lady Cavenhurst turned to her eldest daughter. ‘Were you planning to go to London for the Season, Jane?’
‘No, Mama, I would not leave Harry or the Hadlea Home for so long, but I gather Teddy has agreed to escort Sophie.’
‘I don’t know how she managed to talk him into it,’ her ladyship said. ‘It is not something I would have expected of him.’
‘Why not?’ Sophie asked.
‘He might find the responsibility tedious. Besides, he is too young. You need someone mature enough to be aware of how a young lady should behave in society and to look out for all the pitfalls that might attend her, of being unknowingly lured into a situation that might reflect badly on her reputation, for instance.’
‘I know that and can look out for myself,’ Sophie insisted. ‘And I am sure Teddy knows it, too. Besides, Aunt Emmeline will chaperone me and see I meet the right people, won’t she?’
‘What do you think, Jane?’ their mother asked.
Jane was thoughtful. ‘I really don’t know. Have you spoken to Teddy about it?’
‘He has said he will do it, but of course there is the cost of a come-out.’
‘Money is not a problem.’ Mark spoke for the first time. ‘I will happily sponsor Sophie, but only if you and Sir Edward agree that she may go.’
‘Oh, Mark,’ Sophie said, eyes shining. ‘Would you really?’
‘Yes, if your parents say you may.’
‘That is more than generous of you, Mark,’ her ladyship said. ‘I suggest you find my husband and see what he says. You will find him in the library. Tell him I have ordered refreshments and would like him to join us.’
Mark rose and left them.
‘Oh, I can’t wait,’ Sophie said, hugging the child on her lap. He squirmed to be put down and she set him on the floor and he crawled rapidly to his mother, who picked him up.
‘It is not a foregone conclusion,’ Jane said. ‘There is Aunt Emmeline to consider. She may not be well enough to have you. I recall when we were there she tired easily and she is so very deaf. If she agrees to have you, you must be very mindful of that.’
A maid brought in the tea tray and set it down on a table at her ladyship’s elbow. She left the room as Sir Edward came in followed by Mark and Teddy, who was in riding coat and buckskin breeches, having just returned from a ride. ‘Excuse me, Mama,’ Teddy said. ‘I’ll go up and change. I won’t be long.’
‘Well?’ Sophie asked of her father. ‘May I go?’
He sighed as he sat on the sofa next to his wife. ‘It seems you have marshalled your forces very well, child. I have been outmanoeuvred.’
‘You mean, you agree?’ She jumped up and went over to put her arms about him and kiss his cheek. ‘Oh, thank you, thank you, Papa.’
He gently disengaged her. ‘It is Mark you should thank. He tells me he has to go to London on business next month and will take you and Teddy in his carriage and see you safely to Lady Cartrose’s house. After that it will be up to your aunt and your brother to see you come to no harm.’
She turned to Mark. ‘Oh, you are the kindest, most generous of brothers-in-law. If I could find a husband like you, I should be well content.’
‘Sophie!’ admonished her ladyship.
Mark laughed to cover his embarrassment. ‘You will find the right man for you,’ he said. ‘Do not be too impatient.’
Teddy came back into the room, dressed more fittingly for a drawing room in a single-breasted tailcoat and light-coloured pantaloon trousers. ‘Is it decided?’ he asked, looking round the company.
‘Yes,’ his father said. ‘Provided you know what is expected of you.’
He found a seat and accepted a cup of tea from his mother. ‘Look after my little sister and see she don’t get into any mischief.’
‘Precisely. And keep out of mischief yourself. No gambling.’
‘What, none at all? That’s a bit hard on a fellow, ain’t it?’
‘In a social situation, it is permissible,’ his father said. ‘With counters or low stakes, and only if Sophie is being chaperoned by her aunt at the time. But no gambling hells.’
‘Of course, that is what I meant.’
‘Then, if Lady Cartrose agrees, you may take your sister to London at the convenience of Mark. Bessie will go with you.’ Bessie Sadler was her mother’s maid. She had been with the family many years, but was close to retirement and had been training a young successor. Apart from the family, no one knew Sophie better than she did and she would spot trouble before Aunt Emmeline or Teddy.
Sophie, always effusive, be it through happiness or misery, jumped up and ran to everyone to thank them. She was so happy, she had them all smiling, too. After that, they moved on to how the Hadlea Home for orphans was growing and, as always, was in need of more funds. It was one of Jane’s main tasks to secure those. Mark, with his standing and influential connections, was a great help to her in that and it was the reason he was going to town. He was in the course of arranging a concert to raise funds, an idea borrowed from the Foundling Hospital where they had been doing it for years.
* * *
Lady Cavenhurst wrote to Lady Cartrose and a reply soon arrived, saying her ladyship would be delighted to have Teddy and Sophie to stay. She did not often go out and about herself, but would undertake to introduce Sophie to friends who might invite her to join them for outings, if that would suffice. Sophie agreed that it would and her ladyship’s offer was accepted.
* * *
It was a month before they were to go and Sophie passed the time impatiently dreaming of what she would do, the outings and balls she would attend, the beaux she would meet and planning what she would take in the way of clothes. She was not short of garments, but when she came to review her wardrobe was cast down to think nothing was good enough for a come-out Season when it was absolutely essential she look her best at all times. Her day dresses were perfectly adequate for Norfolk but, in her view, useless for town and would do nothing but let the ton know that she was a country bumpkin. She did have one very fine gown that she had worn at Jane and Issie’s double wedding and an afternoon dress of blue crepe decorated with pale-blue-and-white embroidery that she had worn for Harry’s christening, but that was all. It was nowhere near enough.
Fortunately her sister came to her rescue before she could summon the courage to approach her papa with yet another request. ‘Mark is so generous,’ Jane told her one day when Sophie had walked over to Broadacres to bemoan the lack. ‘He is constantly encouraging me to buy new clothes. I have a wardrobe full of garments I shall never wear again. We can alter some to fit you and bring them right up to date.’
This was the next best thing to having a new wardrobe and they were soon busy with scissors, needle and thread, lace, ribbons and silk flowers. Jane was an expert needlewoman, and as one gown after another was transformed, Sophie lost her regret that she was not to have a completely new wardrobe. No one could possibly know they were not made especially for her and in the latest styles, too. Shoes, boots and slippers would have to be bought because Jane’s feet were larger than Sophie’s, but Sir Edward, thankful that his expenses would be no more than providing her with a little pin money, agreed to pay for those.
‘I have a little present for you,’ Jane said as if a wardrobe fit for a queen were not enough. ‘Wear this with your blue gown.’ She handed Sophie a small box. It contained a silver necklace studded with sapphires and diamonds. ‘It is just the right colour for it.’
‘Jane! It’s lovely, but should you really be giving it to me if Mark bought it for you?’
‘It was his idea, Sophie. When he saw the material I was working on, he said it would be just the thing. I have so much jewellery I can easily spare it.’
Sophie flung her arms around her sister. ‘Oh, that is so like Mark. Tell him thank you from me. I shall be the belle of the ball, thanks to you both.’
‘I hope you may but, Sophie, I must caution you to behave with decorum while you are with Aunt Emmeline. Too much pride will not help your cause. On the other hand, do not be too submissive. Remember you are a Cavenhurst.’
‘Oh, I will, dearest Jane.’
* * *
It was a very happy Sophie who said goodbye to her parents and Jane one morning at the end of May and climbed into Mark’s travelling coach. She was on her way at last. The only disappointing thing was the weather. It had turned bitterly cold and she had perforce to wear a warm coat over her new carriage dress and a fur muff to keep her hands warm, while her feet were set upon a hot brick wrapped in flannel.
The journey took two full days, but as the carriage was a very comfortable one and new horses had been ordered for the frequent stops along the way, where Mark also procured more hot bricks, the time passed agreeably.
They arrived in London in the evening of the second day, having spent the previous night at the Cross Keys in Saffron Walden. There were flags flying from all the public buildings and from some private houses, too, in honour of the birth of a princess to the Duchess of Kent on the twenty-fourth of May. In Sophie’s view that augured well for her visit. The city would be en fête. Mark sent his coachman on to his town house in South Audley Street and accompanied them into Lady Cartrose’s Mount Street home.
Her ladyship, rounder than ever and deafer than ever, greeted them warmly. ‘Welcome, child,’ she said, taking both Sophie’s hands and holding her at arm’s length to regard her from top to toe. ‘My, you are a pretty one. We shall have no trouble firing you off.’
Sophie giggled. ‘That sounds painful.’
She was obliged to repeat what she had said twice more before it was heard, and by then the repartee had lost its wit.
Emmeline turned to Teddy and subjected him to the same scrutiny. ‘I cannot remember the last time I saw you, young man. It must have been at your sisters’ weddings. What a happy occasion that was, to be sure. You are not affianced yet?’
‘No, Aunt.’
‘We shall have to see what we can do. I have many friends with beautiful daughters.’
‘I am not in town to find a bride, but to escort my sister,’ Teddy said, shouting into her ear.
‘Pshaw.’ She turned to Mark. ‘My lord, you are very welcome. How is my dear Jane? And little Harry? One day perhaps I shall have the pleasure of making his acquaintance. You will stay for supper, won’t you? Then you can tell me all about him.’
Mark declined supper, but agreed to take tea and spent most of the time answering her ladyship’s questions about Jane and their son. Sophie was impatient to know what they would be doing while she was in London and, in a break in the conversation, ventured, ‘What have you planned for tomorrow, Aunt Emmeline?’
‘I thought you might be a little tired after your journey, so have arranged nothing of import,’ her aunt replied. ‘A carriage ride in Hyde Park in the afternoon if you should care for it, provided it is not too cold, and supper at home.’
Sophie, who had expected a round of social engagements to begin as soon as she arrived, was cast down by this. It sounded as boring as being at home. Mark smiled at her. ‘Never mind, Sophie, you will be all the more ready to spring yourself upon the London scene the day after when you are fully rested. I have no doubt you will take the capital by storm.’
‘Storm,’ her ladyship repeated. ‘Oh, do not say there is to be a storm. We cannot go out in wet weather, it brings on my rheumatism.’
Mark patiently explained to the lady what he had meant while Teddy and Sophie tried not to laugh.
‘Oh, I understand,’ the old lady said. ‘I did not perfectly hear you. To be sure Sophie will shine. My friend Mrs Malthouse has a daughter of Sophie’s age. Cassandra is a dear, sweet girl and is coming out this year, too. I am sure you will be great friends. She is to have a come-out ball later in the Season and I have no doubt you will be invited. In the meantime there is to be a dancing party at the Rowlands’ next week, which is a suitable occasion for a young lady not yet out to practise her steps and no doubt Augusta will procure an invitation for you if I ask her.’
This sounded more like it, and Sophie thanked her aunt prettily and began mentally deciding what she would wear.
At this point, having agreed to dine with them the following evening, Mark took his leave, and as the evening was yet young, Teddy decided he would go out. Left to the company of her aunt and Margaret Lister, her aunt’s companion, Sophie decided to write to her parents and Jane, as she had promised, to tell them of her safe arrival. After that she went to bed to dream of the pleasures to come.
* * *
A few years before, the arrival of Adam Trent, Viscount Kimberley, in town would have caused a stir among the young single ladies of society and some married ones, too. He had been reputed to be the most handsome, the most well set-up young man to grace the clubs and drawing rooms of the capital for many a year. His arrival had sent all the debutantes’ mamas into a twitter of anxiety and rivalry and their daughters sighing after him and dreaming of being the one finally to catch him.
‘Twenty-eight and still single. How have you managed to resist wedlock so long?’ his cousin Mark had asked him.
‘Easily. I have never met the woman I would want to spend the rest of my days with and, besides, I’m too busy.’ At that time he had recently inherited his father’s title and estate at Saddleworth in Yorkshire, which had undoubtedly enhanced his attraction.
Then he had done the unpardonable thing in the eyes of the ton and married Anne Bamford, the daughter of a Saddleworth mill owner. Whether it was a love match or done to enhance his own wealth no one could be sure, but after that no one had much to say for him, thinking of him only as the one that got away.
His father-in-law had died soon after the wedding, leaving him in possession of Bamford Mill, and in the following year tragically his wife had died in childbirth along with his baby son, and he was once again single. To try to overcome his loss, he had thrown himself into his work, both at the mill and on his estate, which was considerable. He was rarely seen in London.
On this evening, he was striding down South Audley Street towards Piccadilly when he encountered his cousin. ‘Mark, by all that’s wonderful! Fancy meeting you.’
Mark, who had been negotiating a muddy puddle, looked up at the sound of his name. ‘Adam, good heavens! What are you doing in town?’
‘Urgent business or I would not have bothered.’
‘I was sorry to hear of your wife’s passing.’
‘Yes, a very sad time. The only way I could go on was to throw myself into work.’ This was a gross understatement of how he had felt, but he was not one to display emotion. It was easier to pretend he did not feel at all.
‘All work and no play is not good, you know. And you are no longer in mourning.’
‘Mourning is not something you can put a time limit on, Mark.’
‘No, of course not, clumsy of me. I beg your pardon.’
‘Granted. I was on my way to White’s. Do you care to join me?’
Mark agreed and they were soon seated over supper in that well-known establishment. ‘How is married life?’ Adam asked his cousin. ‘I am sorry I could not attend your wedding, but at the time I had only recently taken over the running of Bamford Mill and there was a great deal of resentment that had to be overcome. There was, and is, much unrest and I needed to persuade my people not to join the Blanketeers’ march.’
The march to London from the industrial north, which had been organised by the Lancashire weavers two years before, had been for the purpose of petitioning the Prince Regent over the desperate state of the textile industry and to protest over the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act, which meant any so-called troublemakers could be imprisoned without charge. They had carried blankets, not only as a sign of their trade, but because they expected to be several days on the march. It had been broken up by the militia and its leaders imprisoned. None of the marchers had reached his goal and the petition was never presented.
‘Did you succeed?’
‘Unfortunately, no. I am afraid nothing will really satisfy them but having a say in their own destiny. I fear some dreadful calamity if they are not listened to.’
‘Surely not your people? You have the reputation of being a benign employer.’
‘I do my best, but that will not stop some of the hotheads persuading the rest that to stand apart will bring down retribution on their heads.’
‘What can you do to prevent it?’
‘I don’t know. I pay them more than the usual wage for the work they do and provide them with a good dinner, but that has brought censure from my peers that I am setting a bad example and will ruin all our businesses. I am in a cleft stick, but hoping to avert trouble by other means.’
‘Militia?’
‘No, that is a last resort. Innocent people are apt to get hurt when soldiers are let loose. I intend to speak in the Lords in the hope that the government will listen to reason and grant at least some of their demands.’
‘Do you think they will?’
‘I doubt it, but I must try. If I can rally enough men of good sense on my side, I might achieve something. Times are changing, Mark, and we must change, too, or go under. Ever since I inherited the mill, I have tried to put myself in the shoes of my workers. I have cut the hours of work of the children by half and have set aside a room as a schoolroom and employed a teacher, so the other half of their day is gainfully employed getting an education. Even that does not always go down well—some parents accuse me of giving their children ideas above their station. I answered that by trying to educate the adults, too. It incensed the other mill owners who fear giving the workers an education will make them even more rebellious.’
‘I would have thought that a man who can read and write would be a better and more efficient worker because of it.’
‘My argument exactly. Everyone should be able to better themselves.’ He paused. ‘But I believe you have been doing something similar.’
‘Ours is a home for orphans, but we have a schoolroom, too, and good teachers. It is my wife’s project more than mine, but I help out when I can. We started with only a handful of children, but there are so many of them now and more in need, we have to expand. I am in town to hire an architect for the project and to try to drum up more funds. Everything has become so dear, it is hard work to keep it all afloat.’
‘You are not wanting in the necessary, surely? I understood Broadacres to be a thriving estate.’
‘So it is, but Jane is determined to make the Hadlea Home stand on its own, and I indulge her wishes and help out in a roundabout way. Besides, it is incumbent on me to keep the estate prosperous for my son’s sake and laying out blunt for the orphans, which seems never-ending, will not help to achieve that.’
‘You are a father now, I collect.’
‘Yes, Harry is ten months old and the darling of his mother’s eye.’
‘And yours, too, I’ve no doubt. I lost my child, you know.’
‘Yes, I did know and I am sorry for you, but you will marry again and there will be other children.’
‘I doubt it. There can only be one Anne.’
‘That is true. We are all unique in our own way, loving and loved for different reasons. It doesn’t preclude a second wife.’
‘When she died, so painfully and so cruelly, I swore not to let it happen again.’ He paused, unwilling to dwell on his loss, which no one who had not experienced it could possibly understand, and wondering how to change the subject. ‘Shall we have a hand or two of whist?’
‘Not tonight, cousin. I brought my wife’s sister to London to stay with her aunt in Mount Street and have not yet been home to Wyndham House. The servants will be expecting me. Where do you stay?’
‘At Grillon’s. I have never felt the need of a town house when I am so rarely in town.’
‘Then stay at Wyndham House. You may come and go as you please while there.’
To have congenial company and a more-than-respectable address while doing what he had come to town to do would serve him very well, Adam decided. ‘Thank you. I shall be pleased to do so,’ he said.
They left the club, Mark to go home and alert his servants that a guest was expected and Adam to go to Grillon’s, settle his account and arrange for his manservant, Alfred Farley, to take his luggage to Wyndham House.
