Mary Nichols

by Society Bride Working Man

‘Mama, they are simple working men and I think it is unfair of everyone to brand them as monsters.’

  ‘Well, where did you go?’

  ‘To see Mrs Staines.’

  ‘On horseback, Lucy? In a morning gown?’

  ‘Oh, someone told you. Does Papa know?’

  ‘No, he does not, but I am not at all sure I shouldn’t tell him.’

  ‘Oh, please don’t. He will be angry and it was nothing, except…Oh, Mama, I had to do it and Papa would never understand.’

  ‘Then you had better tell me and see if I can.’

  Lucy told her how she had visited Mrs Staines and what Mrs Staines had told her and that she felt something must be done to stop trouble, so she had ridden to find Mr Moorcroft, who had spoken to the village men and they had gone away peaceably.

  ‘Lucy, I am appalled. You should have come home and alerted your father, not taken it upon yourself to ride out to the works. He forbade you to speak to Mr Moorcroft, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, but this was an emergency. Please, Mama, it turned out all right in the end, so please, please do not tell Papa.’

  ‘With guests in the house it would be difficult for him to punish you, so I will not tell him. He is in a good humour and enjoying the Viscount’s visit. Let us keep it that way.’

  ‘Thank you, Mama.’

  ‘But it is not to happen again. You will not speak to that man again, is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, Mama.’

  ‘Now I will send Sarah in to dress you for dinner and you will behave in a manner befitting your rank, and that means not taking part in the men’s conversation or asking questions about things that do not concern you. And you will try to encourage Mr Gorridge to pay his addresses.’

  ‘Yes, Mama.’

  She held her tears in check until the door had closed and then she flung herself on the bed, burying her face in the pillow, and wept.

  The whole party, including Esme and Johnny, set off the following morning to walk to the abbey ruins, which dominated the skyline. The weather was good for so late in the year, but the wind was a little chill and everyone was warmly clad. They wandered about the broken walls and climbed the remains of a circular stone staircase to admire the view. They were some way from the railway works and could not see them, but they could hear the distant clamour of a multitude of men working: the ring of spades on stone, the rumble of wagon wheels, shouts and laughter, and once the dull thud of an explosion.

  ‘Goodness, what was that?’ Lady Gorridge asked.

  ‘It’s only the navvies, Mama,’ Edward said. ‘They are blasting rock.’

  ‘I had no idea we would be able to hear them from here,’ the Countess said.

  ‘What are navvies?’ Johnny asked.

  ‘They are workmen, properly called navigators because they once dug out canals, but now they are building a railway,’ Lucy explained to him. ‘One day we shall have trains coming to Luffenham station and you will be able to see them steaming along.’

  ‘May I go and see what they are doing now?’

  ‘No, certainly not,’ his mother said. ‘They are rough men and not at all nice to talk to. You must not go anywhere near them.’

  ‘Mama,’ Lucy protested. ‘You will make him afraid of them.’

  ‘So he should be.’

  ‘I could take the little fellow to watch on Thursday, if you agree, my lady,’ Edward said. ‘He’ll come to no harm watching from the top of the hill and he will see his very own railway taking shape.’

  ‘Oh, Mama, may I?’ Johnny begged. ‘I’ll be good, I promise.’

  The Countess found it difficult to deny her young son anything. ‘You must ask your papa.’

  The result of this was that Johnny asked his father, who suddenly said he would take him himself if Miss Bannister said he had been good, and that led to Esme wanting to go and before long everyone, ladies included except the Countess, had agreed they might enjoy a ride to the top of the hill from where they could view the men at work in safety. Lucy was appalled, knowing that Edward had manipulated the company to witness Myles labouring like a common workman, and perhaps his downfall. Myles had seemed confident of success when she spoke to him, but that would only confirm, in her father’s eyes, that he was not a gentleman. And perhaps he was not. Perhaps it was only because he was so different from every other man she had met that she felt so drawn towards him. If he behaved like every other gentleman of her acquaintance—like Edward, for instance—would she think him quite ordinary? Oh, she wished she were not so confused! She had been forbidden to speak to him again and, being a dutiful daughter, she must obey.

  Convinced her demeanour would give her away, she did not want to go with everyone else, but Edward was being particularly insistent and for the sake of peace she gave in. She would ride up to the vantage point, but that did not mean she had to watch. She would take her sketch book and draw wild flowers.

  The days were shortening now and it was barely light when they set out, with Johnny proudly riding his little pony between Lucy and Edward and everyone else following on behind, including the Reverend Mr Cedric Luffenham, who was flattered to be asked to referee and determined, so he told the Earl, that he would take the opportunity to minister to the workmen.

  They could hear the clatter of work on the site before they topped the rise, and the sight that met them when they could finally look down into the valley astonished them. A huge swathe of the opposite hillside had been cut open and the men were busy levelling it. More huts had been built, more wagons brought in and more horses being worked by boys, among them, Lucy noticed, Adam O’Malley. An empty truck stood at the head of the cutting and beside it was the tall figure of Myles in shirtsleeves, leaning on a shovel. He must have heard the neighing of one of their horses, because he looked up. She could not see his expression, but her heart went out to him. Navvy or not, she could not help her feelings for him.

  ‘He’s turned up at any rate,’ Edward said, and started off down the hill with the parson. The Earl and Viscount Gorridge decided they, too, would ride down and inspect the works. Lucy took Johnny’s bridle when it looked as though he meant to follow. ‘We must stay here,’ she said.

  He was full of questions: Why were the men digging such a big hole? How many of them were there? What were the children doing? Did they have lessons? When would the first train come? She endeavoured to answer them all, but in spite of her determination not to look, she could not take her eyes from the drama being enacted in the valley. She saw Edward speak to Myles and shake his hand, then the reverend also shook his hand and Myles dug his first spade of crock. He worked in rhythm with the man on the other side of the wagon: dig, lift, empty, dig, lift, empty; unstopping, unstoppable. Lucy was fascinated. She forgot about wild flowers and began sketching the scene.

  Lady Gorridge soon became bored and suggested they might as well leave the men to it, but Johnny set up such a wail of protest. Lucy volunteered to stay with him until his father returned to take charge of him.

  ‘Can’t we go down there?’ he asked when they were the only two left on the hill.

  ‘No, we will only get in the way.’

  At noon the workers stopped when Mrs O’Malley brought them food and a tankard of ale apiece. Myles, quaffing his, looked up and saw Lucy, still there, still watching him. He likened her to a guardian angel. It gave him fresh impetus; as soon as he had finished his frugal meal, he set to again with renewed vigour. He knew what he was doing would not help his cause with the Earl, or even Lucy herself, but he could no more have refused the challenge than taken wing. When it was all over, he would be the gentleman again. He would dress as befitted the son of a nobleman, he would cultivate the friendship of those who mattered and hope that word would reach the Earl that he was someone to be reckoned with, someone worthy of his daughter. But would Lucy wait that long?

  The Earl and Viscount watched him for a few minutes and then turned to rejoin Lucy and Johnny and they rode home, leaving Edward to follow late
r. He did not return for dinner and everyone supposed the navvy was still working. Lucy wondered how Myles was feeling. He must be exhausted. She prayed he would not be humiliated. At eleven o’clock, when the ladies decided to retire, Edward had still not returned.

  She was sitting in the parlour working on her sketch the following morning when he entered the room. He stood over her, looking at what she was doing. ‘You draw well,’ he said. ‘The navvy in his true environment—in the dirt.’

  She looked up at him, wondering if there was more behind the comment than appeared on the surface. ‘Good morning, Mr Gorridge. I trust you slept well.’

  ‘Like a top.’ He laughed. ‘Don’t you want to know what happened yesterday after you all left?’

  ‘No, I have no interest in your childish games.’

  ‘Oh, Lucy, you are a poor liar. Why, if you have no interest, are you drawing it?’

  ‘It is the work that interests me.’

  ‘And that is going on apace.’ He laughed. ‘Quicker since yesterday. They are all vying with each other to see who can shift the most muck. There’s earth flying all over the place. Come for a ride and see.’

  ‘No.’ He still had not said if he had won the wager and she would not ask him.

  ‘Oh, come on. We will see if he has recovered.’

  ‘Recovered? What is the matter with him?’ She did not need to ask whom he meant.

  ‘He was so exhausted his men had to carry him to the beer shop. They have one on every site, you know, and the whole twenty guineas went on ale for every man on the works.’

  ‘By that, I assume you were obliged to pay up.’

  ‘Yes, more’s the pity. But that is all he won.’

  ‘I did not know there was anything else at stake.’

  ‘There certainly was and that is most decidedly mine and well he knows it.’ He ran his finger down the sketch, tracing the outline of Myles’s body. She had had trouble getting it right and wanted to dash his finger away. ‘All that muscle. Do you like muscles in a man, Lucy? Is that why you are so taken with the navvy?’

  ‘Taken with him? I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Don’t you? Don’t you have little fantasies about him, wondering what it would be like to be held in his great, muscular arms? Have you ever been held in his arms, Lucy?’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  ‘Am I? I think perhaps you have.’

  ‘Whatever gave you that ridiculous idea?’ she snapped, but she could feel her face growing warm.

  ‘I have seen the way he looks at you. There is a lustful gleam in his eye that says he would like to bed the Earl’s daughter and put another notch on his bedpost. I hope the Earl’s daughter is not foolish enough to be taken in by him. It would end in tears, Lucy.’

  She had already shed enough tears to fill a lake, but she would never admit that to anyone, particularly not to him. ‘I wish you would cease this conversation,’ she said. ‘It is offensive.’

  He leaned forward and twisted one of her ringlets round his finger. ‘I am only trying to warn you. For your own good.’

  ‘I do not need to be warned.’

  ‘Good. I am glad we understand each other.’

  ‘Do we?’

  ‘I certainly hope so. I suppose you want it put formally in the time-honoured way.’ He dropped on to one knee beside her chair and grabbed her hands. ‘Lady Lucinda Vernley, will you do me the honour of consenting to be my wife?’

  Although she was supposed to be expecting it, the manner of it shocked her and she could only stare at him.

  ‘Don’t look so taken aback, Lucy. It can hardly be a surprise to you.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Say yes, of course. That’s the usual thing. Then we go and announce it and everyone congratulates us and my friends call me a lucky dog, and all your friends tell you how they envy you.’

  Not a word about being in love, of feelings, certainly no passion. ‘I thought…No, it doesn’t matter. I do not think I can say yes.’

  ‘Why not?’ He got to his feet again. ‘Oh, you are going to keep me dangling for a while to test my mettle. Well, no matter, I can wait. But what your papa will say, I do not know.’

  ‘I am sure he will say I am wise to think about it carefully before making a decision.’

  ‘What is there to think about? You know me and my family and my prospects and you know that both families are in favour of the match.’

  ‘But are you?’

  ‘Of course, or I would not have asked you. So what do you say? A spring wedding?’

  ‘Please give me a little more time, Mr Gorridge. I need to be sure.’

  ‘Very well. But I suggest you forget all about him.’ And he pointed to the sketch. ‘He’ll never amount to anything. Are you sure you will not ride out with me?’

  ‘Not today, thank you.’ She could not go on working with him looking over her shoulder. She collected everything together and stood up. ‘I have to think. We shall, no doubt, meet at dinner.’ And with that she swept from the room.

  She went up to her room and put her sketching things in the drawer where they belonged, then she put on her cloak and bonnet and slipped from the house. She would not go riding, but she would go for a walk. She did not want company. Her head was buzzing. She could not marry Edward Gorridge, she simply could not. She had begun by liking him well enough, but now not even that was true. He was a cold fish and the prospect of spending the rest of her life with him was appalling. But turning him down was going to cause the most terrible battle. Was she strong enough for it?

  Her feet took her, without any conscious thought, into the village where she entered the church. Here she might find solace. It was cold in there and she drew her cloak closer about her. It was only as she walked down the aisle that she saw the vicar talking to Myles. It was too late to turn back.

  ‘Lucinda,’ the reverend called out. ‘Good morning to you.’

  ‘Good morning, sir.’ She tried not to look at Myles, but could not help herself. His presence demanded attention. He was dressed in a brown suit of clothes which were not the common garb of the navvy, but neither were they the fashionable attire of a gentleman, but something in between. His smile betrayed his pleasure at seeing her.

  ‘Good morning, Lady Lucinda.’

  Now what was she to do? Her mother had forbidden her to speak to him again, but she could not ignore him. Besides, they had a chaperon. ‘Mr Moorcroft.’

  ‘Mr Moorcroft is here to arrange for me to minister to his men while they are working in the area,’ the vicar explained. ‘Some of them would like to attend church with their families on Sunday, but I understand the Earl has forbidden them to come to the village. Do you think he might make an exception for churchgoers?’

  She forced herself to pay attention. ‘I do not know. You must ask him, but perhaps your congregation might object.’

  ‘Surely not? They are Christian folk and should welcome other Christians in their midst.’

  ‘What about you, Lady Lucinda?’ Myles asked. ‘Would you object?’

  She turned towards him. ‘Of course not, but I cannot speak for the rest of my family.’

  ‘Ah, there’s the rub,’ he said, addressing the parson. ‘Not all are as tolerant as Lady Lucinda.’

  ‘Then tolerance shall be the theme of my sermon. I shall go up to the Hall and request an interview with my cousin. He could surely lift the ban for Sundays.’

  Myles laughed. ‘He will say mischief can be done as easily on a Sunday as any other day.’

  ‘Then I must persuade him that is not the case. Will you come with me? It will help if you can give him some reassurance.’

  ‘No, Reverend, I think he is more likely to give way if he thinks the idea was entirely yours and you are only thinking about saving men’s souls.’

  ‘Lucinda?’ the reverend asked. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I think Mr Moorcroft is right.’

  ‘Then I will go now. Lucind
a, did you come to see me? Is there something I can do for you?’

  ‘No, I came for quiet meditation and to check on the hassocks. I noticed last Sunday that some need repairing and I thought I might organise that.’

  ‘Bless you for that.’ He strode off down the aisle on his errand, quite forgetting that he should not have left Lucy alone with Mr Moorcroft.

  ‘Lucy.’ Myles reached for her hand. ‘How good it is to see you here. I noticed you on the hill yesterday. Were you there to watch the fun?’

  ‘Please leave. I have been forbidden to speak to you.’

  ‘I see.’ He paused, realising the obstacles to his happiness were every bit as high as he had imagined. ‘But you haven’t been forbidden to listen to me, have you?’ He smiled suddenly. ‘A nod will do.’

  She nodded, managing to find a brief smile. She was sure that listening to him or being in his company was part of the stricture and she should have walked away. But she could not. She could not walk away from him, would never be able to turn her back on him. Georgie’s description of being in love came back to her and she knew without a shadow of a doubt she loved this man.

  ‘Good. Come, let us sit down. I want to talk to you.’ He led her by the hand into a pew and drew her down beside him.

  She was glad to sit; she was shaking so much her legs were buckling under her. She looked into his dear face and was overcome with sadness.

  ‘Don’t look so sorrowful,’ he said, noticing a tear bright on her lashes. ‘It breaks my heart. You must have realised I love you and that will never change, but I need to know if you love me.’ He smiled again and took both her hands in his. They were hard and calloused, but he was gentle and she hardly noticed. ‘A nod will do. Please nod. My future happiness depends on it.’

  She nodded and then the need to say something overcame her scruples. ‘It is impossible, you know it is.’

  ‘Impossible for you to love me or impossible that I love you and want you for my wife? I assure you that I do.’

  ‘Oh, Myles! I…Can you really mean it?’

  ‘Of course I mean it. I am not in the habit of telling young ladies I love them. In fact, it is the first time I have ever done so.’