by Sally Orr
“You are a good attorney, sir. Since your words make the law incomprehensible.”
Mabbs snickered.
“Yes, and because I am a good attorney, I recommend you heed my advice. I gather you are determined to build this foundry?”
Ross shoved his fists into the bottom of his coat pockets. “Yes. Nuisance from either smoke or effluent into the river is not likely from the operation of our foundry. Mrs. Colton’s home will not be destroyed by smoke. The house is too far away from the proposed chimney, and the wind too strong.” Ross believed her house would not be affected, except for, at the very worst, a slight haze when the wind was just right. Why then did this stubborn widow believe her home would be destroyed?
“You don’t know that for sure,” Browne said.
“You don’t know that for sure,” parroted Mabbs.
“Then my engineers must all be wrong. You gentlemen are aware the foundry will provide jobs? Both the profits and the employment created will benefit the entire county.”
Browne pointed his finger. “I tell you nobody will care if workers benefit. We do not want coarse, unlettered, and unkempt workers in our rural community.”
Mabbs widened his eyes. “Steady on.”
“I’ll wager the workers care,” Ross replied.
“Now, Mr. Browne,” Mabbs said, “Our concerns are about the smoke and turning our water foul, nothing more.”
Browne turned to Mabbs. “Yes, of course. If you would please excuse us, Mr. Mabbs. I have some private matters to discuss with Mr. Thornbury.”
Mabbs hesitated and appeared to weigh the situation. “As you wish, sir. I came to express my opinion in regard to the water, and I have. I take my leave of you now. Mr. Thornbury, thank you for hearing my concerns.” He bowed. “Gentlemen.” Mabbs left the stables.
“I warn you.” Browne shook his finger at Ross. “There will be consequences of your recklessness. The gentry in this vicinity will not be pleased. Moreover, your neighbors have vowed to stop construction of the foundry by any means possible. It also goes without saying that you will be shunned by decent society. Indeed, invitations have already been withheld because of your famed libertine propensities expressed in that handbook of yours—scandalous—just scandalous.”
“Have you actually read this scandalous handbook, Mr. Browne?”
“Of course not. I never read vulgar books. I understand from many in the local society that the book is scandalous.”
“The local lending library has a copy then?”
“You insult our library, sir,” Browne replied.
Ross reached the limits of his patience. The man’s conversation consisted of insults and veiled threats. Either Browne would have to leave, or he would. “Shunned by society and nibbled by ducks. I worry about both.”
Browne took another step toward Ross, his wide stance like a boxer ready to unleash a facer. “You leave me no choice. On behalf of Mrs. Colton, I will indict you at the quarter sessions for nuisance.”
“Indict!” Ross stepped toward Browne. “Nibbled by ducks and indicted for nuisance, very troublesome. I’m surprised Mrs. Colton approves of your suit.” He paused. “Or did she suggest it? Still, the foundry is not even built yet. How can you indict for nuisance?”
“Well…I know it will become a nuisance. Despite what your engineers tell you. So I will indict on the first day of operation.” Mr. Browne tugged on his waistcoat again. “One more matter of business. I’ve been told Mrs. Colton and her nephew are residing under your roof at present.”
“Yes, young Deane damaged his foot and will remain at Blackwell until he recovers.” Ross wanted this man to leave his company before his civility escaped him entirely. He strolled toward the stable doors hoping Browne would follow.
Browne shuffled after him. “I must make a matter of some delicacy understood. Since I am Mrs. Colton’s nearest relative, she is under my protection. Since the death of her husband, I myself provide for her needs and dispense the objective male guidance all females require. She now depends upon me as she would a husband, and shows regard for my opinion in all matters.”
Ross turned to stare at him and met a defiant look from narrowed eyes. If Browne was Mrs. Colton’s man of business, his plans would be damned forever, and the foundry lost. “I understand you well, sir. Although your relationship to Mrs. Colton is not my concern.” He never anticipated this topic of conversation, and it kept him from having Browne immediately escorted off of his property. He’d seen Mrs. Colton at the assembly with several gentlemen, but he did not recall her in Browne’s company. His mother had mentioned something about their possible engagement, but he failed to remember her precise words.
Browne huffed. “You, sir, are an unmarried gentleman of a…certain foul reputation, and Mrs. Colton is a widow young enough to require protection. Her residence here without a chaperone may compromise her reputation.”
“Compromise her reputation? You—”
Charybdis kicked a board lining her stall with a resounding crack.
Ross strode back to quiet her and compose himself. It seemed ironic now that he had once expected to be free of unfounded rumors and find peace in the countryside. “You are wrong, sir. Mrs. Colton spends only the day here, and she has company with her, as my mother is in residence. Even Deane is old enough to be a competent chaperone. Your widow holds no interest for me except as a neighbor.” He turned his back to Browne, grabbed a brush, and eased his frustration by grooming Charybdis.
“There has been talk already,” Browne said. “I recommend, for her sake, you avoid being seen in her company. She suffered greatly from the seclusion required of mourning, and it is my duty to prevent further isolation due to some reckless scandal of your making.”
Ross stilled his hand, the brush resting on Charybdis.
Rowbottom then entered the stables to announce Mrs. Colton’s arrival. He also indicated that she went immediately upstairs to check on her nephew.
“Ah, Rowbottom, please escort Mr. Browne to Mr. Deane’s room,” Ross said.
Browne glared at him first before following the butler out of the stables.
Once Browne left, Ross resisted the urge to jump up and make a fresh attempt to change Mrs. Colton’s mind in regard to the lease. Before he approached her again, he’d have to regain his composure. Then think of a new plan or better enticement to win her consent. Anyhow, yesterday’s refusal still stung. He expected her to agree to his proposal, and had even apologized for his previous behavior, so there should have been no impediment to his request. One glance at that taunting dimple and the pink flesh swelling around that insufferable snake, and his reason had become ambushed by lust. As a result, he’d strayed from the “proper gentleman’s” handbook and returned to his old ways of dealing with females. In the immediate future, it would be best to avoid her like a contagion, until he could lure her into reconsidering his proposal, or perhaps persuade her to visit a working steam engine to witness the smoke for herself. So for the next couple of days, he resolved to visit the sickroom only after she had left. Besides, this morning he could not tolerate failure at the hands of a dimple.
Ross threw the brush into a corner of the stall.
Now he must instruct his man of business to investigate nuisance law. The Earl of Northwold had an iron foundry to the east, close to the Derbyshire border, so there had to be precedent. He would also instruct his man to examine the cost of building a canal or using wagons to haul materials to the turnpike. He sighed, shook his head, and sat on a bale of hay. Clearly his neighbors were backward louts if they didn’t understand the amazing revolution happening around them. Small, low-cost steam engines were needed for the manufacture of goods. And here around the Midlands, they had a front-row seat to witness England’s industrial future.
Charybdis nudged his back.
Ross turned to pat her broad neck. “Well, pretty gi
rl, how does a respectable gentleman negotiate business with a reluctant female, especially if it would be to her advantage? Do you know? Because I have no damn idea.”
A loud snort from Charybdis answered his question.
Ross decided to learn more about Mrs. Colton’s acquaintances, such as her relationship with Dr. Potts. Perhaps he might find a local man, other than Browne or Mabbs, to convince her of his lease’s benefits. Then this Browne person, and whoever hired his services, could be stopped from filing a lawsuit. Nevertheless, after his forward behavior to her yesterday, he’d have to apologize—again.
Brushing horsehair off his coat, he stomped to the stable doors. That abominable Browne hinted he was a scoundrel of the worst sort toward women, and that this behavior took place with his mother nearby. Well, yes, there was that one moment where he kissed her neck, but that moment was more like an accident, really. In the future, he’d be more circumspect. This respectable behavior would put an end to his torrid dreams, as well.
Damn dream. Damn dimple. Damn kiss.
Once outside the stables, he caught the rancid smell of fresh horse dung.
What exactly did Browne mean when he said, “providing for her needs,” or her “dependence upon him as a husband”? If Mrs. Colton possessed a considerable jointure, as his mother had suggested, what were her needs? The only needs that came to his mind were improper ones.
He felt his foot slide and looked down to discover he had stepped into a pile of fresh horse manure. Hell’s fire. Lifting his shiny black boot free, he cringed at the revolting, sucking sound. He chuckled in acknowledgment of his well-deserved retribution for mentally sullying Mrs. Colton’s honor. No doubt his mind was mired in the proverbial muck.
Still, Browne’s assertion of providing for her needs puzzled him. Surely Browne—Mr. Proper Gentleman himself—was not suggesting immoral behavior? However, Ross acknowledged he knew very little about her. Perhaps she emulated some of London’s widows and enjoyed discreetly luring the local gentlemen with her feminine arts and displays of swelling flesh—it seemed plausible. So for his mother’s future happiness, he planned to watch Mrs. Colton carefully. If she betrayed any manners that strayed from those expected of a respectable minister’s widow, then he might behave in the same manner and get his lease signed using a proven method. A few words alone, straight from his handbook, all delivered with a touch of charm, should be just the ticket to…persuade her.
Seven
Thank heavens. When Elinor arrived at Blackwell four days after the accident, she found Berdy alone, the casement windows open, both curtains blown outside, and his bedcovers in a muddled heap on the floor.
“Elli. I’m glad you have come. There is so much to tell you,” Berdy chirped, twirling his cravat in the air.
Even yesterday, while watching him sleep, she had wondered if morbid matter might be spreading without her knowledge. Today he appeared almost normal, with the exception of a few bruises and a cut on his nose. “Good morning, love.” Rushing to his bedside, she kissed him on the cheek. “How’s your foot today?” She covered him with the counterpane and tucked it under every inch of his side.
His brows puckered. “Very poorly, m’ leg hurts something awful from m’ foot to m’ knee. But Ross was here earlier to cheer me up, and we had a serious discussion about life, you know—man to man.”
“Man to man?” Since one man was a reputed rake, the other an innocent lad, she suspected, for her own peace of mind, she better not pursue the subject. “You’ll be happy to hear Dr. Potts will be here soon, so he can give us a date for removing you home.”
“Gad, no hurry there. Ross is very supportive. He’s such a complete hand. I like the fellow. He’s not at all what I expected. You know, an old museum piece.” Berdy leaned over to whisper into her ear. “He wears a banyan with an open shirt around the house in the morning, so I suspect he’s rather wicked.”
She patted Berdy’s hand and sat next to his bed. “Yes, wicked.” Heavens. She couldn’t help but imagine Mr. Thornbury in an open shirt. She was not going to think about him in an open shirt or wonder if he, like William, had that seductive little hollow in the throat. No, she was not going to look at his throat the very minute he walked into the room. “Considering the number of stories I’ve heard, he certainly is talked about by other gentlemen. Still, I want you home, under my care.”
“That Ross is a great gun. Knows everything a gentleman should know, from finance to gears. Someday maybe I’ll be just like him.” Berdy tapped his forefinger on his cheek, apparently lost in thought. “Maybe I should become a rake? It certainly does impress other men.”
“No!” Elinor jumped out of her small cane chair, knocking it over. “They’re shunned by Polite Society. Please, anything but a rake.” She righted the chair, sat, and smoothed out the wrinkles on her apricot-colored skirt.
He continued in a reflective tone. “I plan to meet with Father when we are in London, and I’ll ask his opinion on the subject. Maybe I can be half a rake, or at least one not shunned by society. You know, a rake people only whisper about, like Ross. He is the greatest of fellows. I wish you would let him build his foundry. I mean, what’s a little soot? A house is just a house. He’s a neighbor, and William always said to help your neighbor, right?”
Clearly Berdy considered Mr. Thornbury a friend, so she didn’t want to disappoint him by forbidding the association. Instead, she decided to carefully observe their host’s behavior, before she considered him a suitable companion for her nephew. “Yes, helping your neighbor is important, but—”
After a swift knock upon the door, Dr. Potts entered the sickroom. “Good morning, Mrs. Colton, Deane. How is the patient today? Much better than yesterday, obviously.” He strolled to the bedside to evaluate Berdy’s temperature and pulse.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “Berdy claims he wants to become a rake. Please warn him in private later about the personal…what it means to be a rake and why it is unsuitable.” She glanced at Berdy. “Man to man.”
Ignoring the immediacy in her tone, Dr. Potts completed his examination, replaced the white linen bandage, then pulled up a chair. “A rake? Why not? He will have to move to London then, since the City is the best place for a young man to make a name for himself.”
She knew the doctor objected to rakes and libertines; then why didn’t he condemn it outright? “Sir, you cannot honestly advise Berdy to become a rake.”
The doctor flushed. “No, Polite Society cannot tolerate such behavior, but don’t worry, Deane is not serious. He dresses like a dandy, not a rake. Take that monstrous cravat he invented, for example.”
Berdy instantly sat upward, a wince crossing his features. “It’s not monstrous. Rakes must have stunning cravats to impress the ladies. I’ll ask Ross. You’ll see.”
Dr. Potts ignored Berdy’s indignation and addressed her. “I understand Thornbury is intent upon building his foundry. As a medical man, I plan to confront him about the public health hazards.”
She feared her host might be offended over any unpleasantness about his foundry’s plans. Then send Berdy home prematurely, his wound not yet properly healed. “Not today, please,” she said. “We can all discuss this foundry at a later date. Mr. Thornbury has gone to a lot of trouble to see to Berdy’s care after the accident. I don’t want to seem ungrateful for his rescue.”
“Ungrateful?” The doctor scowled. “I suppose that gesture he made was mere gratitude then, or should I call the man out today?”
“I heard of a similar incident in regard to you and the widow Taft.” She paused, shocked by her accusation. “I apologize. We can never understand another person’s motive for their behavior, can we?”
“My dear Mrs. Colton,” Dr. Potts said, still wearing the scowl. “Mrs. Taft is a relative, nothing more. Now let me handle Thornbury today. I’ve your best interests at heart. I am also pleased that you have given m
e the honor of being one of your confidantes. I go so far in saying that in the future I cherish—”
A knock on the door stopped Dr. Potts from completing his sentence.
“Please, not now,” she whispered. The doctor and his daughter regularly dined at Pinnacles, and for the last six months he had dropped several random hints of a possible marriage between them. Perhaps he thought her loyalty to William’s love would fade with time, so she might consider marriage. Since that would never happen, in the future she planned to stop the doctor’s hints altogether and inform him of the impossibility of a second marriage. For the moment, she just wished he would not speak of the kiss he witnessed or mention a subject that might insult their host. “For my sake, say nothing about the foundry. We owe Mr. Thornbury thanks today.”
“Yes, but don’t worry. I will be here to protect you.”
Mr. Thornbury entered the sickroom, greeted his guests, and strolled to the bedside.
Of course—she looked at his throat. Thankfully, a snowy white cravat covered his neck, surrounded by a lovely dark green coat with a velvet collar.
Berdy beamed and twisted around to face him.
“How’s the old foot now?” Mr. Thornbury asked.
“Awful.” Berdy drew everyone’s attention with an overloud sigh. “Sorry, m’ whole leg still throbs something fierce.”
Mr. Thornbury fetched another chair. “I’m afraid you’ll have to stay here for at least another week or two. Bad luck that, having to remain still. Anything you’d like, a book?”
“A book,” Berdy exclaimed, glancing in Elinor’s direction. “You sound just like Elli. Lately, she’s books this and books that—a regular look-it-up lady.”
She gave Mr. Thornbury a wry grin. “I’m not that bad—really. I merely read about puncture…as you suggested.” He winked at her, lifting her spirits. Gratitude swelled in her breast for his charitable attentions to Berdy.
