The ladies spent the afternoon resting in order to be at their best for the event. Lucy, too agitated to stay in her room, set off alone for a walk. Her feet took her, without any forethought, through the village and on to the bridge which spanned the river. She stood leaning over the parapet, looking down into the water.
‘It goes all the way to the sea.’
She whipped round to find the navvy behind her. ‘You are still here?’
‘As you see, my lady.’ He came and stood beside her, so that they were both looking down into the water. ‘The river is low at the moment, but I am told that in winter it can flow very fast.’
‘Your railway line must cross it?’
‘Yes, but farther downstream, I think. We have to continue along the side of the hill until we have cleared the village, then we must build a bridge to carry the line over and continue it on the other side.’
‘Towards my father’s land.’
‘Yes, though we may do it in reverse and start from the Peterborough end, in which case we shall come to Luffenham first.’
‘And if you cannot get my father’s agreement, what will you do? He is very determined against it.’
‘Then we shall have to make it worth his while.’ He didn’t want to talk about his job, but she seemed interested and it was better than nothing if it kept her by him a little longer. ‘Locomotives cannot work efficiently uphill, especially with a full load, nor can they go round corners, so we have to make the ground as straight and level as possible and that means surveying the route carefully, but even so we often have to make cuttings through hills and fill in valleys; when that is not possible, we build viaducts and tunnels. Avoiding Luffenham would mean taking a different route, cutting right through a hill and going round the other side of the lake, which would put the cost up considerably.’
‘I doubt that will carry any weight with my father. When it is a matter of principle, I do not think you will shift him.’ It was said with a smile that knocked him for six. She was beautiful in repose, but when she smiled, she came to life and set his pulses racing.
‘It will not be down to me, but the directors of the company, to persuade him.’
‘Of whom Viscount Gorridge is one.’
‘Yes, indeed he is.’
‘He hasn’t had much success so far. They talk about the railways a great deal and the company is divided on the necessity for them, and even those who agree they are the way forward do not like the prospect of the trouble they cause in the construction.’
He laughed. ‘You mean the men who build them, don’t you? A few years ago naughty children were frightened into good behaviour with the threat that Boney would get them. Now it’s the navvy who is set up as the villain.’
‘Perhaps with good cause.’
‘What reason have you to say that? Have you met and talked to any navvies?’
‘No, of course not. Except you, of course, and I don’t know why I am talking to you now.’
‘Don’t you?’ he queried with a smile.
She felt herself colour, but refused to meet his eye. ‘I suppose it is because I am interested in the work you do.’
‘It is a strange interest for a lady. I should have expected you to be concerned with fashion and entertainment and finding a husband.’ When she did not answer immediately, he added, ‘Unless, of course, you have already found him and I am to felicitate you.’
‘That would be a little premature. And why should a lady not be interested in something that is set to become part of everyday life?’
‘No reason at all.’ So, she wasn’t engaged to Gorridge, that was something to be thankful for, but she had said premature, not out of the question. He hoped nothing would come of it, not only because he had realised that if any woman was made for him, this one was, but also because he had taken a dislike to Gorridge and was convinced the man would not make her happy. ‘Anything else I can tell you, please do not hesitate to ask.’
‘There is one thing. Why did Mr Gorridge owe you the price of a barrel of ale? Did he wager he could drink more of it than you could?’
‘No, though that would have been as foolish a wager as the one he did embark upon.’
‘Do tell.’ Her eyes were alight with mischief. ‘I promise I won’t divulge that you have told me.’
He was tempted to tell her of Gorridge’s boast that he could take the ale without paying for it, but decided that would not be the honourable thing to do. ‘We were talking about strength and he bet me I could not carry the barrel the length of the village street. The loser to pay for it.’
‘And you did.’ She laughed. ‘But he said he owed the money to you.’
‘Only because mine host would not let us make use of the barrel without paying for it, considering I might drop it and break it open and he would be the loser, so I bought it first.’
‘But you did not break it and so the ale had to be broached, is that what happened?’
‘Yes. I apologise for the way I brought the gentleman home. If I had known you were there…’
‘It is not to me you need apologise, but poor Lady Gorridge, who was mortified.’
‘Oh, I know that. She took pains to tell me exactly what she thought of me. I think perhaps that is why Joe Masters has an invitation to the ball tonight and I do not, which is a great pity—I would have enjoyed taking a turn about the floor with you.’
She decided not to rise to the bait of commenting on his impertinence in even thinking she would consent to dance with him. It was what he wanted, if only to argue with her about it. ‘Mr Masters is a gentleman.’
‘Oh, he is, one of the best. I have known him since I was in petticoats.’
She choked on a laugh. ‘You, in petticoats! That I find hard to imagine.’
‘My mother has a picture of me at eighteen months old and there is no doubt of the garment. One day, I will show it to you.’
‘You are presuming we shall meet again.’
‘Oh, we will, when the railway comes through.’
‘Then you will be with your own kind, using pick and shovel. Tell me, is it true you can shift twenty tons of soil a day?’
‘Soil, stones, mud, tree roots, solid rock, everything that gets in the way of our progress. We call it crock.’
‘Crock, then. Is it true?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you have another wager on it?’
‘Yes. When a man’s word is challenged, he must respond.’
‘I cannot envisage what twenty tons looks like.’
‘You have seen a freight wagon?’
‘Yes, of course. There were some hooked on behind our carriages when we came back from London. I think they were filled with coal.’
‘They hold forty tons. Two good navvies can fill one in a day. You see, they not only dig the crock out, they lift each shovel full over their heads into the wagon.’
‘Then I begin to think Mr Gorridge’s wager is safe.’
‘We shall see.’
She would like to witness that, but she doubted if she would be allowed anywhere near the workings. Hadn’t one of the Viscount’s guests advised her father to lock up his womenfolk? Papa would not take that literally, of course, but she knew her movements would be severely restricted if the railway builders ever came within a furlong of Luffenham Hall. Yet, looking at the man who stood beside her, so obviously at ease, but so courteous, she found it hard to believe the dreadful tales that were told of the depravity of the navvies. In different clothes, with a little more polish, he could pass for a gentleman. Oh, if only he was!
‘A penny for them,’ he suggested.
‘What?’ His voice, coming so suddenly out of the silence, startled her. ‘I’m sorry, I was miles away.’
‘So I saw. What were you thinking of?’
‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’
‘It was enough to make you sigh. I have not made you sad, have I?’
‘No, not at all.’
‘I should not like t
o think I had.’ His voice was soft; the grittiness of the navvy was gone and the eyes, which had been so full of amusement, much of it at her expense, had become serious. ‘I would rather make you happy.’
‘I am happy.’ He was probing too deeply and she was beginning to feel afraid, not of him, but of her own feelings. They were stirring something inside her that she had never felt before and she did not know how to still them.
‘Then I am glad of it.’ He laid his hand gently over hers as it rested on the stone parapet of the bridge and she jumped as if she had been burned. ‘I beg your pardon, my lady, I did not mean to startle you. It was a simple gesture of empathy and presumptuous of me.’
What answer could she give to that? Was this how navvies went about choosing their conquests? But, empathy? What a strange word for a navvy to use. But she could not help feeling it was the right one. There was something between them, something intangible, something like a thread, a very strong thread, that drew them together, no matter what their differences might be. It bridged the gulf of wealth and class and thoroughly confused her. She should not have feelings for this man at all. ‘I must go,’ she said sharply and walked away so fast she almost broke into a run.
It did not take many strides for him to catch up with her. ‘Slow down, my lady, there is no need to run from me. I mean you no harm. In fact, I’ll fell any man who does. You have my promise on that.’
‘You are very conceited if you think I am running from you.’ She slowed a little to prove her point. ‘And I beg you not to think of felling anyone. I abhor violence. Now, please do not pursue me any further. I have no wish for your company.’
He stopped walking and stood in the middle of the road, laughing. He had not done with her yet. ‘Au revoir,’ he called. ‘Enjoy your ball.’
By the time she had been up to her room, stripped off her day clothes, soaked in a bath, dressed in the cerise gown and the maid had done her hair, she had calmed herself. She was back in the world she knew, a world of fine clothes, good food, impeccable manners and the grand occasion. Dressed in her finery, she was once again Lady Lucinda Vernley, daughter of the Earl of Luffenham. The young woman who had dreamed of being held in rough-clad arms was gone. And she must stay gone.
She went downstairs to join the house guests for dinner and afterwards they strolled out to the marquee to greet the guests coming from far and wide. Lucy, her hand on Edward’s arm, was introduced to some of the newcomers before the musicians struck up and the dancing began. Edward whirled her off into a country dance, whose steps she did not know, so he spent the whole time murmuring instructions. Later she danced with a succession of young gentlemen, all of whom paid her pretty compliments. She smiled and answered their flattery with a light rejoinder and the evening passed pleasantly until supper was announced. This was held in a smaller tent and Edward offered her his arm to escort her across the grass.
‘We have this shindy every year,’ he told her. ‘The locals expect it and it keeps them sweet, but Mama finds it more wearying every year. Dotty does what she can, but she does not have the presence of Mama.’ He paused. ‘I think they like you.’
‘Do they? I have hardly exchanged half a dozen words with any of them.’
‘You will get to know them better.’
She waited, expecting him to enlarge upon that and end with a proposal, but he suddenly changed the subject. ‘Just look at Victor with a lady on each arm. They will be disappointed if they expect anything from him. He has been singled out for Dotty since they were both in the schoolroom.’
‘Is you sister happy about that?’
‘Never asked her. Why should she not be?’
‘I thought perhaps she might prefer to choose her own husband.’
He laughed. ‘So she shall and she will choose Victor.’
‘Is that how it works in your family?’
‘It’s how it works in every great family—surely you knew that?’
‘No, I did not. I am sure I shall not choose whomever I’m told to. Goodness, that sort of thing went out at the turn of the century.’
‘Ah, a rebel,’ he said, smiling. ‘I like that.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes, I like a challenge.’
So he saw her as a challenge, did he? She laughed suddenly. ‘So do I.’
‘Then we are at one and we shall enjoy keeping them guessing, shan’t we?’ He led her to a table and pulled out a seat for her. It was after he had left to fetch food from the buffet for her that she realised she was sitting opposite Mr Masters.
‘Good evening, my lady,’ he said. ‘It is a splendid occasion, is it not?’
‘Yes. You are alone tonight?’
‘Yes, my wife has only recently been confined with our third child or she might have accompanied me. She would have enjoyed meeting you, I think.’
‘Perhaps another time.’
‘Yes. This reminds me of the spread put on by Lord Moorcroft for the navvies whenever a section of line is finished. Fine man, Lord Moorcroft.’
‘I’m sure he is.’
‘The Earl would have no trouble with the men on his works.’
‘Then you should tell him that. I have no influence or even interest in the subject.’
‘No, of course not. Silly of me to mention it. I only meant to reassure you there would be nothing to fear from them.’
‘You are the second person to tell me that today, and if you have come as his emissary, I beg you to save yourself the trouble.’ It was snapped at him, which just went to show how unnerved she was. Thank goodness they were going home tomorrow and the whole subject could be dropped, because she was very sure her father would not allow the railway anywhere near his land.
Edward returned with two plates of food, one of which he placed before her. It held chicken and ham and a cold salad. ‘I hope I have chosen something you like.’
‘Yes, thank you.’
He sat down beside her and they began to eat, but before long Edward and the engineer began talking about the railways again and, losing all patience with them, she excused herself and left the tent. No one saw fit to follow her.
It had been very warm under the canvas, and the cool air drifting across her face, was welcome. Leaving the lights, the hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter behind her, she strolled unhurriedly down between the trees to the lake. A long finger of crimson light from the dying sun reflected in the water. It was breathtaking and she stood admiring it until the sun sank below the horizon and she found herself in darkness. But it wasn’t completely dark. The moon came up behind her and threw part in light, part in shadow where the tall reeds grew. The boathouse was another shadow and her own slim shape another. She stepped forward to the edge and watched her other self dancing on the rippling water. It was magical and she laughed aloud.
It was then she heard a slight splash and became aware of a man in a rowing boat pulling towards her, but she was so mesmerised that she felt no fear. A few more deft strokes with the oars and he had drawn up by the bank beside her. The boat rocked as he stood up, but, bracing his sturdy legs slightly apart, he was easily able to control it. She knew who he was, of course, had known almost from the beginning and the strange thing was that she wasn’t at all surprised.
He held out his hand. ‘Can I tempt you to a boat trip, my lady? The view is even better from on the water.’
‘How did you know I would be here?’
‘I didn’t. I simply hoped you would be.’
The hand was still outstretched. She could reach out and take it and seal her own fate, or she could turn and run and her fate would still be sealed—in another way. The choice was hers. She took the hand.
He drew her into the boat, made sure she was sitting comfortably and took off his coat to drape over her bare shoulders. ‘It is cooler on the water, my lady.’ Then he sat down opposite her and picked up the oars.
It was like a dream. It could not be real. Surely she had not been so lost to all sense
as to get in a boat with a man she hardly knew and not even a gentleman. She would wake up in her bed any minute. But the rough coat was real, the creak of the oars in the rowlocks, the ripple of the water, the hoot of an owl, the croaking of a frog among the reeds and the silver moon, lighting their way, were all real. And the man in his shirtsleeves, pulling them along with the strength of an ox was no figment of her imagination. She could see the whites of his eyes and the gleam of his teeth. They were strong and white—did all navvies have good teeth? Did they all have clean fingernails? Did their coats smell of whatever soap they used to wash themselves?
‘Where are you taking me?’
‘To a mystical land of make-believe, where there are no boundaries and no rules, where a man and a woman may say what is in their hearts without any of it being misconstrued, where truth is more important than form, where no one is rich and no one is poor, where the sun warms everyone and the moon and stars are for lovers.’
‘No jealousy, no envy, no hate,’ she added, caught up by his mood. ‘Is there such a place?’
‘It is to be found in the heart,’ he said. ‘In everyone’s heart who takes the trouble to seek it. Yours and mine.’
He stopped rowing and allowed the boat to drift. Her silky gown was spread across the little craft like a froth of pink sugar. Her upper body, shrouded in his coat, was dark, making her head seem disembodied. Her face was in shadow, but he could see her eyes and they were shining in a kind of understanding of what he was saying. ‘Look into your heart, Lucy, and tell me what you see.’
Mary Nichols Page 8
