by Mary Nichols
A party for her workers, that was it! She would invite every employee, high and low, to a grand occasion at the mill and make it a night to remember. The idea had the added attraction of proving to the Earl of Amerleigh that she treated her workers well and that they were all loyal to her. No expense would be spared. Food and drink would be the main expense; poor people were always hungry. There would be music and decorations, flags and flowers. And a brass band! If, led by the band and flags flying, they paraded through the streets of Amerleigh and Scofield, before entering the mill for the party, it would make a great deal of noise and drown out the oh-so-genteel orchestra playing at Gilford House. And fireworks. According to Lady Brandon, there were to be fireworks as a grand finale to the ball—then her fireworks would better, more noisy, more colourful. She would not be cowed and made to feel inferior, and set about the arrangements with a smile on her lips and a spring in her step.
Lord and Lady Gilford lived in a large mansion on the road between Amerleigh and Scofield, surrounded by a park and mixed woodland. The main part of the house was a hundred years old, but it had been added to in recent years and the whole of the inside refurbished and refurnished. Apart from the Temples, who ceased to count when the late Earl removed to the dower house, they were the haut monde of the area and an invitation to an occasion at their home was prized by local society. Lady Gilford had taken great pains with all the arrangements, the food and wine and music, only to find there was a shortage of fireworks. The supplier, who had a workshop in Shrewsbury, told her almost his entire stock had been bought up by another customer whom he declined to name. Her ladyship purchased what was left, hoping that her guests would be so mellow with food and drink by the end of the evening, they would not notice the Grand Finale was less than grand.
Roland, dressed in impeccable good taste, in a black evening coat, black trousers and a pristine white shirt, arrived only a few minutes late and was greeted warmly by Lady Gilford, who attached herself to him and took him round to make sure he knew everyone. When that was done, she invited him to join her party, which consisted of herself and her husband, her son, the lieutenant of the invitation; her daughter, Eleanor; and an elderly aunt. Eleanor was about eighteen, as plump as her mother was thin, with pale blonde hair, carefully dressed to make it look thicker than it really was. She was also painfully shy, which was obviously a source of irritation to her mother. Roland smiled at her and offered the usual politeness before marking her card for two country dances, which made the poor girl’s cheeks turn bright pink.
After the first of these, she left him to dance with young Leonard Manton and Roland sat down to talk to Lieutenant Gilford, enquiring about his service. ‘How did you manage to arrive home so quickly?’ he asked him.
‘I was in Lisbon with the Commissariat when the news came through and hopped on the first ship out. I saw no point in hanging about and Papa made it right with the Colonel.’
His mother, who had been busying herself with her guests, returned to them. ‘My goodness, we cannot have two handsome young men sitting together and not dancing. Thomas, go and ask Miss Manton to stand up with you. As for you, my lord, I am sure I can find you a partner.’
‘Thank you, my lady,’ he said, with a smile. ‘I think I can manage.’ He left her and went to ask Martha Brandon to dance, realising as he did so that he was probably playing right into her hands, because he saw Martin Elliott scowling at him. After that, he found himself standing up with several other young ladies and then with Miss Gilford again. He escorted her into supper, much to the chagrin of Lady Brandon. He was beginning to feel decidedly uncomfortable, though not for a moment did his polite smile leave his face. Returning from supper, he stationed himself in an alcove to watch the dancers and found himself unaccountably wishing Miss Cartwright were present. He had enjoyed that waltz with her and the discovery that she was truly beautiful. If she were here, he might enjoy it more. The admission, if only to himself, surprised him.
‘It must seem strange. Being home again, I mean.’
He turned to find Lord Gilford standing beside him. He had been a sea-faring man, which was evidenced by his weatherbeaten complexion and his way of standing with his feet braced apart as if still on the deck of a ship. ‘Yes, it is a little.’
‘Coming about, are you?’
He was annoyed at the impertinence of the question, but too polite to show it. ‘I believe so.’
‘Glad to hear it. Not married, though?’
‘No time for it.’
‘But thinking of it? After all, a single man with a title and a great estate must look for a wife at some point.’
‘That goes without saying, but at the moment I am not contemplating marriage.’
‘No? But if you are not, then there are going to be a number of disappointed mamas and their daughters. The little beauties are all in competition for you.’
Roland smiled wryly. ‘I should hate to disappoint them, but there is no competition. I am not a prize to be won.’
His lordship gave a little snorty laugh of embarrassment. ‘No, of course not. But you should perhaps be careful not to give the gabble-grinders fuel for their gossip.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘My wife tells me you are often to be seen in Miss Cartwright’s company and she without a chaperon.’
Roland was furious and did not trouble to hide it ‘That, sir, is my affair.’
‘You may say so, but it won’t do, you know. Your father and hers became mortal enemies and she is a chip off the old block, riding around as if she owned the whole village. I advise you to assert yourself before she rides all over you.’
Roland was taken aback by the man’s impudence. ‘No one rides over me,’ he told him coldly.
‘Of course not. But did you know her father was a mill hand before he rose to become manager and married the mill owner’s daughter and became very rich through the trade?’ His derogatory emphasis on the last word betrayed what he felt about that. ‘She is very high in the instep, but not one of us, Amerleigh, never one of us, not of any consequence, at all. Apart from Lady Brandon, who hardly counts, she is not accepted in polite circles. You ought to bear that in mind.’
‘What makes you suppose I have that particular lady in mind, or any lady for that matter?’ Roland reminded himself that the man was his host and it would be ill mannered to be rude, but his voice betrayed the fact that he was angry, even while holding himself in check.
‘Hold hard!’ His lordship held up both hands as if to ward off an imaginary blow. ‘I meant no disrespect. I told her ladyship it would not serve, but she would have me speak to you, to warn you…’
‘I do not need to be warned,’ Roland said icily. ‘But thank her ladyship for me.’
And with that he walked away, out of the room and through a conservatory into the garden.
It was a clear, starlit night. Behind him the orchestra was playing a waltz and he found himself thinking of Charlotte Cartwright again. Did she mind being treated like a pariah? He had heard about her own party; Mrs Biggs had been full of it. The whole Biggs family was going, even young Hannah had been invited if he would be so good as to release her from her work. Of course he had agreed, almost wishing he could go too. Even from a distance he could hear the music.
Turning back to the house, he sought out his hostess, thanked her for her hospitality and took his leave, much to her chagrin. Then he walked out into the night again and, instead of turning for home, made for the sound of merriment coming from somewhere along the Amerleigh to Scofield road.
He came upon the procession just before it reached Scofield. There was a very noisy band playing a marching tune and it was followed by a great crowd, all dressed in their Sunday best, waving flags and singing. At the gates of the mill, which stood wide open, Charlotte was waiting for them. She was wearing a skirt short enough to reveal her ankles and feet clad in half-boots, and a dark-coloured burnoose with the hood thrown back. He watched as the workers, including,
he noticed, Corporal Travers and others from his estate, marched past her and into the mill, which was blazing with light.
After they had all gone in, she saw him standing on the other side of the road in his fine evening clothes and wondered why he was there. She called out to him. ‘What brings you here, my lord? Boredom or curiosity?’
He laughed. ‘Both.’
‘Would you like to join us? No one here is bored, I can promise you.’
He crossed the road and walked up to her. ‘Thank you. I should like that very much, provided my presence does not spoil anyone else’s enjoyment.’
‘Shall we ask them?’ She led the way into the schoolroom, which had been cleared of furniture. Already the musicians were playing a lively dance tune and the floor was crowded with dancers. A long table along one wall was so loaded with food there was no room to put another dish. At the end a man stood beside a barrel of beer, dispensing its contents. There was also cordial for the children. Charlotte clapped her hands and the band fell silent and everyone turned towards her.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ she said, an address that raised a laugh and a cheer. ‘His lordship finds the entertainment at Gilford House boring. We are not bored, are we?’
‘No!’ they yelled.
‘Shall we let him share our party?’
‘Yes!’
He knew they would have agreed to anything she suggested, considering she had provided all the food and drink and they were already merry on it. ‘Thank you,’ he said with a smile. ‘Carry on, don’t mind me.’
They took him at his word and the gaiety continued. The level of beer in the barrel went down and the loaded plates emptied and were refilled. The dancing became more boisterous and Roland and Charlotte were pulled into it, being grabbed and hauled round by mill workers. The estate workers were a little more restrained at first, but soon they, too, lost their awe of the Earl and began enjoying themselves, especially as he joined in with enthusiasm, dancing a gavotte with Mrs Biggs, while Charlotte danced with Corporal Travers, who was in uniform and very popular with both the men, who wanted to hear about the fighting, and with the women, who appreciated his rugged good looks.
In a pause in the dancing Roland found himself standing beside Charlotte again. He wondered why he had ever thought her cold. She was flushed and her eyes sparkled. She was truly enjoying herself and seemed to have forgotten they were at daggers drawn. And then she spoke and reminded him. ‘In the ordinary way of things, this is the schoolroom,’ she said. ‘The law requires me to teach the children to read and little else, but some are quite intelligent enough to go further than that, so here they are taught not only to read and write, but simple mathematics, some geography, a little history.’ She smiled. ‘It is not only for the workers, but their younger siblings.’
‘But they do not play.’
‘This is a place of work, my lord, not a playground. It is all very well for the rich to play, they do not have to earn a living, but days like today put new heart into everyone and they are not unhappy. The only time they think about it is when some well-meaning philanthropist puts ideas into their heads or, what is worse, one of their own number with a grudge makes trouble.’
Was she warning him not to meddle? he wondered. ‘Is anyone making trouble?’
‘There are always troublemakers, my lord, though none that I know of here.’
Looking round at the joyful crowd, he could well believe it. She was such a strange mixture of benevolence and hardness, it was difficult to understand her. She could shut an employee out who was a few minutes late for work and yet she could take the trouble to distribute food to those in need. Her clattering looms kept her workers chained to them like slaves and yet she wanted to educate them, even though education gave people ambition, which might in the end not be to her advantage. She appeared not to care what people thought of her, but he had seen enough of human nature to know that she was susceptible. He would be her friend if only she would let him.
At midnight, the musicians put away their instruments and the leftover food was packed into little parcels so that everyone had something to take home, then they trooped out to the common for the fireworks, singing lustily as they went. It was a wonderful display, set out by Charlotte’s mine manager, who knew a thing or two about explosives. Rocket after rocket shot skywards and exploded into the air, releasing a myriad of coloured lights. Roland, watching the faces of the children, alight with wonder, felt a tug at his heart. He would like children of his own, to nurture and love, someone to come after him, to keep his name alive, to look after Amerleigh so that it never again drifted into neglect. And to make that happen, he needed a wife. Sooner or later he would have to give some thought to it.
The trouble was that whenever that idea came into his head, he found himself thinking of the woman who stood beside him. He could not banish her from his mind. She invaded every aspect of his life, every decision he made, almost every word he uttered. She was with him every hour of the day and, worst of all, through the lonely watches of the night. Who she was, what she did, the life she led, made her entirely ineligible as a wife for him. That gabble-grinder, Gilford, was right, damn him!
When the last shower had drifted to earth and there was silence, someone called for three cheers for Miss Cartwright and the hills echoed to the sound. And then old John Bennett, bowed with a lifetime of working in the gardens at Amerleigh Hall, called for three cheers for his lordship and again the hills echoed. Roland wondered if they could be heard at Gilford House.
After standing about for several minutes, reluctant to call it a night, everyone slowly drifted away, many with a rolling gait that betrayed the amount of good ale they had consumed. Roland stood beside Charlotte, watching them go, as reluctant as they were to go home. If only everyone could always be as happy and cheerful as they had been this night, there would be no dissent, no quarrels, no need to resort to war. Or litigation.
‘I have my curricle at the mill,’ she said, as they reached the road. ‘I can take you back to Gilford House, if you wish. It is not out of my way.’
‘I am not going back there.’
‘Then allow me to take you home to Amerleigh Hall.’
He laughed. ‘When I suggested escorting you the other night, you disdained my offer.’
‘But you did it anyway.’
‘Oh.’
‘Did you think I did not know you were behind me?’ She was laughing up at him, enjoying his discomfiture.
‘It must have been someone else.’
‘Of course. Someone else, how silly of me.’
They had arrived back at the mill. The lights had all been extinguished except the lamp over the gates, which illuminated the horse and curricle being held in readiness by the night watchman. ‘Now, do you come with me or do you walk home by yourself? The people might give you three hearty cheers, but your watch and fob might be too great a temptation if one or two of them met you alone in the dark.’
‘Thank you.’ He helped her up and climbed up beside her, taking the reins from her fingers. He’d be damned if he’d allow himself to be driven by a woman, however capable.
They set off at a walk. He was in no hurry to part from her. The air was balmy, the black velvet of the night sky was pierced with a myriad of diamond-like stars and, above the copse of trees on the slope of the hills, a new moon hung motionless. A faint shushing sound drifted on the air and he looked up to see a few red and green sparks flying skywards. They were passing Gilford House.
Charlotte laughed suddenly. ‘Not up to mine, are they?’ she said.
He knew she was referring to the fireworks. ‘No, they are altogether more genteel.’
‘Are you sure you do not want to go back?’
‘Positive. At the moment I would not be anywhere else in the world.’
‘Ah, I see you know how to frame a compliment.’ He did not answer and she went on, ‘What happened? Why did you leave the ball?’
‘It was deadly dull and the
efforts of the mamas and their daughters too obvious for words. I felt I was walking on eggs not to give offence.’
‘But you will have to choose one of them and that will offend all the rest.’
‘I do not have to choose at all.’ He turned to look at her, sitting beside him so composed, so cool, so in command of herself, he found himself wondering what it would take to rouse her. The only emotion she had shown him was anger, cool politeness and a willingness to bandy words, though she was soft enough with Tommy and the Biggs’s baby. ‘What about you? Do you not wish for a husband?’
‘No, for I doubt I could find anyone to put up with me. I am too used to running my own life and doing as I choose, I should drive a husband to distraction.’
‘You must have had offers?’
‘From milksops after my wealth. They do not see me as a wife, but as the provider of an easy life. They do not stay about long.’
‘Then we are both at an impasse. You have too much money and I have too much rank to find true love. What a pity!’
She was not sure whether he was bamming her or not, but decided not to comment. They rode on in silence until he turned into the gates of the Hall and trotted up the drive to the front door, where he stopped. Should he ask her in? The absence of a chaperon seemed not to have occurred to her, but then she went about on her own all the time. He had never seen anything remotely like a companion or even a maid with her, though he supposed she had one. And if she did go in with him, what could he offer her in the way of refreshment?
He jumped down and was about to hand the reins to her, when the front door opened and Travers came down the steps, having arrived back half an hour earlier. ‘Shall I look after the curricle, Major?’
Roland turned back to Charlotte to find her standing beside him. He could hardly tell her to climb back in and go home. ‘Yes, Corporal, if you please, and do you think you can find us some refreshment? I am sure Mrs Fields has gone to bed.’
