The Rector's Daughter (Part Two of The People of this Parish Saga)

by Nicola Thorne

  Laurence had already spent weeks costing the project with the help of the architect and his surveyor. Now he stood with the plans in his hand, an arm stretched before him.

  ‘You see, we can build without destroying the coppice. The whole thing will be curtained from the road by trees.

  ‘Capital,’ Mr Wainwright said, ‘we don’t want to upset the locals.’

  ‘You won’t upset them because you’ll be providing them with work.’ Bart sucked on a large cigar in his mouth. ‘I don’t think there’ll be many complaints.’

  ‘And when can all this be achieved, Laurence?’ Wainwright looked eagerly at him.

  ‘I would say in eighteen months’ time, provided we can start straightaway.’

  ‘Start as soon as you like.’ Wainwright thrust a massive hand into Laurence’s. ‘That can’t be soon enough for me.’

  Laurence and Bart parted from Wainwright after lunch at the King’s Arms and then set off in Bart’s pony and trap for the drive to Wenham, the two men discussing the details of the business on the way.

  Laurence, well satisfied with the day, began to hum while Bart, the reins in his hand, chewed on the butt of his cigar.

  ‘I think I might buy a motor-car,’ Laurence said after a while. ‘We’ll soon be left behind.’

  ‘I think horseflesh is more reliable.’ Bart gently touched his pony’s back with his whip.

  ‘You surprise me. A man like you.’

  ‘How do you mean, “a man like me”?’ Bart looked questioningly at his companion.

  ‘A go-ahead fellow, ambitious to be wealthy.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not all that ambitious.’ Bart flicked the whip again.

  ‘I bet you’ve got quite a bit on the side already?’ Laurence continued his gaze, but Bart kept his eyes on the road.

  ‘You could say I have a pound or two on one side, but I am by no means wealthy. Anyway, looks as if with Wainwright you’ll be able to afford your car, a big one, any time you like.’

  Laurence put his hands behind his head and leaned back.

  ‘Wainwright seems a reasonable sort of fellow.’

  ‘Seems so.’

  ‘What do you mean, “seems so”?’ Laurence again glanced sideways at Bart.

  ‘Yes, he seems a good sort of fellow. I don’t ‘zactly know him very well.’

  ‘You don’t ‘zactly know him very well?’ Laurence looked perplexed. ‘But you introduced us, Bart.’

  ‘It still doesn’t mean I know him very well. He’s a business acquaintance of Prosper Martyn.’

  ‘Then his banking references will be good.’

  Bart turned his level, rather disturbing gaze on Laurence for a moment or two. ‘Why should they not be?’

  ‘Well, a lot of money is involved.’

  ‘He will pay in stages.’

  ‘Of course, that’s the normal procedure.’

  Bart was to go on to Sadlers’ Farm to visit his relations, but they halted at Laurence’s gate.

  ‘Why not come in and have a bite with us? We can iron out the details of the business.’

  ‘If you’re worried, if you’re not happy,’ Bart said in a firm, decisive tone, ‘you don’t need to go on.’

  ‘But I’m too involved to back out! I don’t want to back out. But maybe in my enthusiasm I’ve rushed ahead. Anyway, come in and at least say “hello” to Sarah Jane. Besides, I think there is someone else at our house who you might like to see.'

  ‘Oh? And who might that be?’

  ‘You’ll see.’ Laurence’s face broke into a smile.

  ‘In that case, how can I refuse?’

  It was still daylight, and there were two women sitting on a bench outside the house while the Yetman children capered on the lawn in front of them.

  They were deep in conversation, but as the pony and cart rattled up the drive they both looked round, and as the trap stopped and the two men alighted, Sarah Jane jumped up and ran towards Laurence, who greeted her with a hearty kiss on the lips.

  ‘Did all go well?’ she asked.

  ‘I think so,’ Laurence replied. ‘Didn’t it, Bart?’

  ‘I think so.’ Bart, sounding non-committal, kissed his sister and then waved his hand at Sophie Woodville, who sat watching the scene, her arm resting casually on the back of the bench.

  She had an odd expression in her eyes, the angle of her body seemed provocative, and Bart found his interest in her increasing by leaps and bounds as he returned her quizzical gaze.

  ‘Hello!’ she called, waving back.

  ‘So this is the surprise?’ Bart murmured to Laurence as he left his side and strolled over to Sophie. ‘Hello, Mrs Woodville. How nice to see you.’

  ‘Nice to see you, Mr Sadler.’ Her tone was aloof rather than warm. He thought she was apparently a cold woman, yet one in whom an inner fire burned, like a volcano topped with snow and ice. She challenged him, and the friction between them intrigued, nay excited him.

  ‘Isn’t it time you two used Christian names?’ Sarah Jane asked as she joined them. ‘Sophie, Bart.’

  They exchanged distant smiles which seemed to acknowledge the fact that, in reality, they knew each other quite well.

  ‘So you’re in this venture too, are you?’ Sophie moved along the bench so that Bart could sit next to her.

  ‘Venture? What venture?’

  ‘To build a huge factory.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not in the plan, I merely introduced the builder to the buyer.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Laurence, who had been greeted with rapture by his children, had Martha’s hand in his. He couldn’t help overhearing the conversation. ‘I thought we were going to be partners?’

  ‘Oh, did you?’ Bart, looking surprised, turned round to face him. ‘What gave you that idea?’

  ‘That’s what I mean by discussing details. I simply assumed that you were in with me.’

  ‘You shouldn’t make assumptions,’ Bart chuckled, and put a match to a fresh cigar.

  ‘Seriously.’ Laurence told Martha to run and play, and gently pushed her off. Then he walked over to Bart and Sophie. ‘Could we talk about this in private, Bart?’

  ‘By all means.’ Bart rose, and with a smile to Sophie murmured: ‘Shan’t be long.’

  ‘Dinner will be ready quite soon.’ Sarah Jane, sensing trouble, looked anxiously at Laurence. ‘You’re staying to dinner, aren’t you, Bart?’

  ‘If I may.’ Bart put his arm around Laurence’s shoulder as they walked towards the house. ‘We shall sort this out in a few minutes.’

  Laurence had a workroom at the top of the house. It was cluttered with plans and drawings and no one was allowed there, not even a maid to clean it. A long, low table stood in front of the window, and he now threw down on it copies of the plans he had taken with him to Dorchester. Then he slumped in an easy-chair, inviting Bart to sit opposite him. But Bart seemed to prefer to stand, his back to the window, resting his weight on the sill.

  ‘Now, what is troubling you?’ Bart said.

  ‘I think there’s a misunderstanding,’ Laurence began.

  ‘I never said I’d be a partner,’ Bart butted in.

  ‘I assumed you would want to share the profit ... and the risk.’

  ‘Risk?’ Bart looked startled. ‘Look, there is no risk. Wainwright is a millionaire. Check with your relations.’

  ‘Oh, I shall do that all right. But still, your reluctance to come in makes me uncomfortable about the whole thing.’

  ‘I can’t think why.’ Bart used his cigar like a baby’s dummy, swivelling it from one side of his mouth to the other.

  ‘Well, it’s good to have a partner.’

  ‘But you have one. Wainwright. Frankly, I think too many cooks spoil the broth.’

  ‘But it’s a very big undertaking for me, unsupported ...’

  ‘Now that Pelham’s Oak is not to be sold, and there’s no pressure on you to buy it, I should have thought you were quite comfortably off. Remember, although you run the risk –
and, frankly, I don’t think there is much of a risk – you get all the profits.’

  ‘I’m not a risk-taker.’ Laurence shook his head.

  ‘Then you shouldn’t be in business. All builders take risks. Sure you can do it, Laurence! You’ve got cold feet, man.’

  ‘I’ve never done anything so big. I’ll have to have bank support. I don’t like doing it on my own.’

  ‘Well.’ Bart put his hands in his pockets, his expression slightly contemptuous. ‘As you say, you’re already involved. Frankly, I haven’t got the money to spare, even if I wanted to. I never keep loose change. I’m sorry you misunderstood.’

  ‘Then why did you bring Wainwright and me together?’

  ‘Because you’re my brother-in-law. Wainwright and I were talking stone for the house he thought of building. Then he decided to buy.’ Bart extended a hand in Laurence’s direction. ‘The rest you know.’

  ‘I always thought it was a partnership.’

  Emphatically Bart shook his head. ‘That’s not my line of business. I leave that sort of thing to the experts. But if you ask me, if you back out, apart from being thought a fool, you’ll regret it all your life. You’re on the way to being a very wealthy man.'

  Dinner was rather a subdued affair. There was obvious tension between the two men and it was left to the women to make small talk.

  In desperation to get the conversation going, Sophie talked about her life as a missionary. She mentioned George’s name frequently, yet she could not help noticing Bart’s interest in her.

  ‘I think you told me you hoped to go back?’ Bart said when she appeared to have finished, and, sadly, she nodded her head.

  ‘But I am not allowed to.’

  ‘And why not?’

  ‘They will not have me with children, and they will not have me without them. I am barred from the field until they are grown up, after which I feel I may be too old.’

  ‘But may you not just go, if that’s what you wish to do?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. You have to be sent by a church society, and to go alone would be out of the question. Besides, it is very costly.’

  Dinner finished soon after that, because Sophie wished to go back to Pelham’s Oak before dark. Laurence was putting on his coat to take her home when Bart stopped him.

  ‘Do let me escort Mrs Woodville home. It is on my way. That is, if she doesn’t mind a pony and trap and the company of a strange man?’

  ‘Of course I don’t mind.’ Sophie gave a gracious smile. ‘And, really, you’re not strange. You’re almost a friend.’

  There seemed an irony in the way she said it. At the door Bart held out his hand to Laurence.

  ‘It was a good day, Laurence. No hard feelings, then?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Laurence smiled good-humouredly. ‘As you said, a misunderstanding. But I dare say I will check with the Heering bank, just to be sure ...’

  ‘Oh yes, do that.’ Bart shrugged into his coat. ‘I’m sure you’ll find everything is in order. Wainwright strikes me as straight.’

  He looked out towards the pony and trap being held by the groom.

  ‘It is still light and a fine evening. Will you be warm enough, Mrs Woodville?’

  ‘Oh, I should think so.’ She took her shawl from Sarah Jane and kissed her cheek. ‘Thank you for a lovely day.’

  ‘I enjoyed it,’ Sarah Jane said. ‘And next time, be sure to bring the children.’

  ‘I would have brought them today, but their grandfather loves to have them without me. He spoils them. I’m rather strict,’ she added with a sideways glance at Bart.

  But he was clambering into his seat while Laurence helped her up beside him; and Bart then drove off, raising his whip in farewell.

  Laurence watched them until they were by the bridge and out of sight. Then, his wife following, he went inside, putting out the lights methodically, one by one.

  Laurence Yetman was the least complex of the three children of Eliza and Ryder Yetman. On him, as the eldest, had fallen the mantle of responsibility when his father unexpectedly died. He had wanted to leave school and work in order to support his mother, who had found that her husband’s death meant that she had fallen on lean times. Within a year or two of Ryder’s death the family cupboard was bare.

  Eliza had taken many years to decide to marry Julius Heering. She was a proud woman who had not wished to be thought of as a fortune-hunter. As proud as his mother, and as independent, Laurence would never have asked a penny from his stepfather, who would probably not have given it to him anyway. It took the family some time to realise how close Julius was with his money.

  But up to now there had been no need to borrow. Laurence, with his father’s foreman, Perce Adams, had built up a successful business. But building was a risky, speculative trade, and cash flow was always a problem. Building materials had to be bought and paid for long before the first revenues came in. It was this that had made him concerned about what he considered to be the reneging of his brother-in-law on a deal.

  As he turned off the last of the lights, he and Sarah Jane popped their heads into the children’s bedrooms to be sure they were asleep. As they reached the privacy of their room, Sarah Jane put an arm round his shoulder and shut the door.

  ‘You’re out of sorts tonight, dear,’ she said, resting her head briefly against his shoulder. ‘It’s something between you and Bart, isn’t it?’

  Laurence gently disengaged himself from her and, going over to the bed, sat down and began taking off his shoes.

  ‘You could say that.’ He carefully removed his left shoe and sat with it in his hand, looking at her.

  ‘Is it about the Dorchester plot and Mr Wainwright?’

  ‘Yes, it is, but I’d rather not involve you in it, if you don’t mind, my dear. This is between men.’

  Sarah Jane swiftly crossed the room and stood in front of him.

  ‘Oh no it’s not, Laurence Yetman. It is also between husband and wife. What worries you worries me. You know that.’

  ‘I know that, dearest.’ He put his shoe on the floor and reached for her hand. ‘But why should I trouble you with my business worries; especially as Bart is your brother?’

  ‘It makes no difference,’ she said, sitting next to him. ‘I am your wife. That is the closest union, the closest bond imaginable, is it not?’

  ‘Yes it is,’ he said, his eyes filling with love as he gently kissed her cheek.

  ‘Then tell me what it is.’

  ‘This is a very big project.’ Laurence carefully removed his right shoe. ‘I am unsupported if Wainwright doesn’t pay.’

  ‘But he will pay?’ Her eyes anxiously searched his.

  ‘There is no reason to doubt it, but I imagined Bart and I would be in this as equal partners. But he said that was never his intention. I don’t know whether to believe him or not, and that’s the truth.’

  Sarah Jane, head in her hands, stared for some seconds at the floor. Then she raised her head and her eyes were troubled.

  ‘Bart is my brother. I know he can be difficult, but I don’t think he is dishonest. There must be a misunderstanding between you.’

  ‘I’m quite sure he isn’t dishonest.’ Laurence’s brows knitted together in bewilderment. ‘As you say, it may be a misunderstanding.’

  ‘But usually Bart is so clear.’

  ‘The problem is that up to now I have built houses, halls, a school, but never a factory the size Mr Wainwright has in mind. It will be a huge building, of complex construction because of the heavy machinery Mr Wainwright will be using and also making. I have never undertaken anything so big and, frankly, it is a little beyond my capacity; but, of course, I don’t want to turn it down. Mr Wainwright intends to build more factories in the West Country and I want to be in on it. If I succeed in this one, I may well be asked to do the others. So you see, Sarah Jane,’ he turned to her and put a hand on her cheek, ‘it is a very worthwhile and important venture which I understood I was to share jointly with Bart, wh
o introduced me to Wainwright.’

  ‘But what makes you think Bart would take the risk? He is a loner and always has been.’

  ‘I thought he would because there are handsome profits to be made. He tells me now he is only interested in supplying the stone, and that has always been the case.’

  ‘I see.’ Sarah Jane’s expression was grave. ‘It is complicated. Will you go ahead without him?’

  ‘I shall really have to go ahead without him, but I shall have to borrow heavily. Up to now I have never needed to. We always paid our way. It is against my instincts.’

  ‘But all business people borrow,’ Sarah Jane said encouragingly. ‘That is what banks are for.’

  ‘Yes, but I am not one of them. I don’t trust them.’

  ‘Not trust the banks?’ Sarah Jane looked shocked.

  ‘Well, let’s say I would rather not be in their hands.’

  ‘But Laurence.’ She nuzzled her face close to his and ran her hand up and down his back. ‘Surely the Heerings ...’

  ‘I would never approach them,’ Laurence said vehemently. ‘I would never go near my stepfather for help in a matter like this. I would not want to, and I am sure my mother would not want me to. I would not give him the satisfaction of turning me down. Look at the way he behaved over Pelham’s Oak. He wouldn’t lift a finger for Uncle Guy.’

  ‘That was a different matter. That was buying something he didn’t want, or helping out a man he didn’t believe deserved it.’

  ‘But still my mother was shocked by his attitude,’ Laurence said gravely. ‘As far as Julius is concerned, the scales are falling rapidly from her eyes.’

  ‘You will have to go to the bank.’ Sarah Jane yawned, got off the bed and began to get undressed.

  ‘Which bank?’

  ‘Our bank. The bank in Wenham.’

  ‘And have them all know my affairs? No thank you.’

  ‘Laurence, be reasonable.’ Sarah Jane sat on the bed and began to remove her stockings. ‘We are local people, known and, I think, highly respected. Mr Becket is fairly new, and doubtless anxious to please, to make an impression. He wants to establish himself as part of the town. I am sure he will be delighted to lend you money to finance the project. It will be a chance for him too. So why don’t you go and ask him?’