Mary Nichols

by Society Bride Working Man

  Over the hill behind the trees, Myles would still be supervising the children’s games. There would be a great deal of laughter and when the party was over he would go home to Goodthorpe Manor. Until today she had thought there might be hope that one day she might go there with him and meet his family. What would they think of her decision? Would they be angry with her for leading him on to expect more than she was prepared to give, or would they shrug their shoulders and say perhaps it was for the best? She had done it for his sake, not her own, but they would not know that, would they?

  The sound of horses alerted her to the fact that the huntsmen were returning and soon the yard was filled with yapping, bloodied dogs and muddied, sweating horses. Viscount Gorridge was holding a fox’s brush aloft in triumph. All looked satisfied with a good day’s hunting. The grooms ran forward to take charge of the horses and it was then Lucy saw Myles ride into the yard. What was he doing here? Surely he had not come to tackle her father over her decision? She leaned forward and opened the casement in the hope of hearing what was said.

  The Earl was waving his crop at Myles. ‘What are you doing here, Moorcroft? I thought I told you to keep away.’

  ‘I came to speak to you, my lord.’

  ‘I have nothing to say to you. The rules for your navvies were laid down weeks ago and nothing has changed. So what do you want?’

  Lucy held her breath, but when Myles spoke it had nothing to do with her at all. She was not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. ‘My lord, your dogs and huntsmen ran the fox over the navvy encampment and did a great deal of damage, not to mention frightening the women and children half to death.’

  ‘I cannot direct the fox where to run and where he runs the dogs will follow. If you were any sort of a gentleman you would know that.’ The Earl dismounted and handed his horse over to a groom.

  ‘My lord, the navvies are extremely upset. If you could compensate them and ask the hunt to avoid the works in future, it would be appreciated.’

  ‘I will do no such thing. The hunt goes where the fox goes, everyone knows that. You could always complain to Reynard.’ He laughed at his own joke. ‘Or you could, if he was still in the land of the living.’

  ‘My lord, it was wanton destruction and the huntsmen did nothing to control the dogs. They seemed to find it a great joke.’ Lucy could see by the set of Myles’s jaw that he was finding it an effort to be polite, but if her father continued to hold him in such obvious contempt, she doubted if he would stay cool much longer.

  ‘I was told the work would be finished by Christmas,’ the Earl said. ‘If you had completed it on time the navvies would not have been there to get in the way of the hunt.’

  ‘I am afraid bad weather has held us up for a few days,’ Myles said.

  ‘Then that is your bad fortune.’

  ‘I do not think my men will think of it like that, my lord. They are incensed and were only prevented from marching here to put their own case by my promising to speak to you. If I cannot take them the reassurance they need, I cannot answer for their actions.’

  ‘You had better. It’s what you are there for, to keep the peace.’

  ‘Peace, my lord, needs both sides to agree to it.’

  Any last vestige of hope died in Lucy’s breast when she heard that. Myles must have accepted her decision or he would not have been so outspoken. He had stopped trying to be the gentleman and reverted to the navvy. He was fighting for his men and his railway; his love for her and hers for him had been pushed to one side, buried out of sight.

  ‘I have nothing more to say to you, Moorcroft,’ she heard her father say. ‘Go back to your fellows and wallow in the dirt with them. And if you so much as set foot on my domain again, I will set the dogs on you. Is that clear?’

  ‘Crystal clear, my lord, but I hope you do not live to regret it.’ He turned on his heel and walked back to his horse. He glanced up at the house as he did so, but he did not see Lucy because she had closed the window and retreated into her room. The effort Myles had made to keep the peace between navvies and villagers and not to alienate her father now counted for nothing. There would be open warfare.

  She heard Rosemary come up the stairs and enter her room and went to join her. Her sister’s habit was covered in mud and there were streaks of blood down her cheeks, but she was glowing with elation. ‘I was in at the kill,’ she told Lucy. ‘It was magnificent. You should have been there.’

  ‘I am glad I was not. What was that all about in the yard, just now? What happened at the navvy camp?’

  ‘Oh, that!’ She spoke dismissively. ‘Reynard was a wily old devil, a big dog fox. He led us a merry dance right up into the hills and along the ridge and then he doubled back and dashed down into the valley. We thought we had him cornered down by the bridge, but he suddenly darted over it and ran into the navvy camp. The hounds chased him round and round and then he went into one of the huts. There were a lot of children in there and they ran about screaming and making things worse. Papa told them to keep quiet and they would come to no harm, but they kept running round making a real din and that upset the dogs. They didn’t know which way to turn, but then the fox made a break for it and they were on to him.’

  ‘The children witnessed it?’

  ‘Yes, couldn’t be helped, could it? They were there, the fox was there and so were the dogs. Anyway, those urchins are hardened little devils, I can’t see it would do them any harm. It wouldn’t worry Johnny.’

  ‘How can you be so unfeeling, Rosie? Many of those children are not used to country ways. No doubt they thought it was barbaric.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Lucy, they are barbarians themselves.’

  ‘They are children, Rosie. Was M—Mr Moorcroft with them?’

  ‘I didn’t see him. He must have turned up after we left. He’s shot his bolt now, you know. With Papa, I mean. Coming here and threatening Papa in front of everyone. You can forget any idea of being allowed to marry him.’

  ‘I already have. We have decided to part.’

  ‘Very sensible of you, though it puzzles me how you can have any sort of conversation with him.’

  ‘He is quite easy to talk to.’

  ‘No, I meant when do you have the opportunity? Have you been over there today?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good God! You might have been there when we rode in.’

  ‘But thankfully I wasn’t.’

  ‘Amen to that. Papa would have had apoplexy. So, have you decided to accept Mr Gorridge, after all?’

  ‘No, I have decided to remain single.’

  Rosemary laughed. ‘You will change your mind as soon as you get over this obsession with the navvy.’

  ‘No, I will not.’

  ‘Not change your mind or not get over the navvy?’

  ‘Both.’

  ‘We shall see.’

  Lucy decided not to argue. Her sister would never understand. ‘You had better hurry and change. I thought I heard the first gong.’

  ‘Wait for me. We’ll go down together.’

  The men were still talking about the chase when everyone gathered about the dinner table. It transpired that Edward had found himself separated from the hunt and he was highly amused when the tale was told to him. ‘I wish I had been there to see the fun,’ he said. ‘But I was miles away on the other bank, chasing a vixen. Pretty little thing she was, too, but she went to earth.’ He grinned as he spoke as if at some amusing memory. ‘How much damage was done? It won’t delay the finishing of the line, will it? Our shareholders won’t be at all pleased if that happens and they miss their dividends.’

  ‘It wasn’t the line so much as the encampment,’ his father told him. ‘I wasn’t up with the leaders and only arrived after it was all over. But some of the shanties were destroyed and others had their stoves pulled over and were set on fire. Without ready water to hand it was difficult to extinguish the flames. I imagine the contents of those huts were entirely consumed. A few of their dogs were i
njured, scrapping with the hounds, and I saw a couple of dead cats and goodness knows how many chickens.’

  ‘Oh, how dreadful,’ the Countess exclaimed. ‘Those poor children will be without homes in this dreadful weather.’

  Her husband looked sharply at her. ‘There are huts in plenty down there. They can move in with others. It is hardly my fault the fox decided to run there. He is no more used to seeing habitation on that hill than we are. Thank goodness they will soon be gone.’

  ‘Was Moorcroft down there?’ Edward asked.

  ‘No, not at the time, but he had the temerity to come up here and demand compensation. I sent him away with a flea in his ear.’

  ‘I am not sure that was a wise thing to do,’ Viscount Gorridge said. ‘The navvies won’t stand for it.’

  ‘I don’t know what they think they can do about it,’ the Earl said. A good day’s hunting with everyone calling him a jolly good Master and praising his hospitality had soured and he was irritable.

  ‘They can go on what they call a randy. If they get themselves stirred up enough, they are quite capable of marching up here and destroying everything in their path. They might even break the windows and set fire to the house.’

  ‘Oh, surely not,’ Lady Gorridge exclaimed.

  ‘Oh, I assure they could,’ her husband insisted. ‘I have seen the result of some of their randies on other lines. The destruction done to the encampment here is nothing to what they might do.’

  ‘Mr Moorcroft would never allow it,’ Lucy said quietly.

  Her father turned sharply towards her. ‘What do you know of it, miss?’

  ‘Nothing except that he has always kept his word about the navvies. They have caused us no trouble and many of them come to church. They are peaceful folk.’

  ‘That is because until now they have not been roused to anger,’ Lord Gorridge said. ‘Luffenham, I strongly advise you to pay their compensation if you don’t want to have to barricade yourself in the house.’

  ‘Barricade myself in! I never heard of anything so ridiculous.’

  ‘It’s war!’ Edward said gleefully. ‘Now we shall see who is the stronger man.’

  His father turned angrily on him. ‘I’ll thank you not to make such foolish remarks, Edward. You are frightening the ladies. Whatever there is between you and Moorcroft, I advise you to forget it.’

  Edward looked at Lucy. ‘What do you say, Lady Lucinda, should I forget it?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I am sure Mr Moorcroft feels no ill will towards you.’

  ‘Wisely said, my lady,’ Lord Gorridge said. ‘I hope that you will always be a steadying influence on this headstrong son of mine.’

  Lucy felt her face flood with colour. His lordship, like his son, was assuming she was going to marry Edward. She was not. Just because she had told Myles she would not run away with him, did not mean she would marry Edward Gorridge. ‘I…’ She paused. She could not reject him in front of a roomful of people, it would hardly be courteous, and so the words she had formed on her tongue were not uttered. But she would have to seize the first opportunity to make her feelings known.

  ‘Oh, I do hope this won’t make any difference to the ball,’ Rosemary put in. ‘Papa, you are not going to cancel it, are you?’

  ‘Certainly not! I am not going to let a rabble spoil my plans.’

  Lucy’s heart sank. She hardly heard the rest of the conversation as dinner was concluded and the ladies retired, leaving the men still talking about the day’s events and Lord Gorridge continuing to exhort her father to pay the navvies some compensation.

  The ladies, too, discussed the matter over the tea cups. They were all afraid and several said they would like to go home out of danger. The Countess reassured them that they were quite safe, but even she did not sound sure. Nor was Lucy sure. Myles was angry, she knew that, and disappointed with her, and perhaps he would not try too hard to prevent his workers from making trouble. She must do something to prevent it. But what? How much pin money did she have? Her father had given her several guineas to spend in Peterborough, but she had not needed them, and she had a few pieces of jewellery. Would the navvies accept that? She could pretend it came from her father. But would it be enough? And would they believe her?

  Pleading a headache, she excused herself and went to bed. She did not want to be in the drawing room when the gentlemen joined the ladies. She could not sit and listen to more arguments and Edward being so sure of himself and of her. And she hated his obvious delight at the damage to the encampment. The poor children! She was incensed on their behalf and would not be able to keep silent if the men persisted in talking about it. If that was the way the navvies were treated wherever they went, then it was hardly surprising they rebelled against it and earned the reputation they had. Tomorrow something must be done to resolve all the issues: Edward’s proposal and the threat from the navvies.

  Chapter Nine

  Lucy had been right about Myles being angry and disappointed. His men were angry, too, and their wives incensed and worst of all, the children were frightened and many of them in tears. Their lovely party had been spoiled, their dogs mauled and their kittens trampled to death. Two of the huts had been completely destroyed by fire and windows broken in several others. He felt guilty and in some measure responsible. If he had not gone part of the way with Lucy he would have been on the site when the fox arrived and he might have been able to divert it before the dogs were on to it.

  O’Malley, who was especially roused because Matty had been knocked over and had a nasty bruise on her face, was all for marching on Luffenham Hall and avenging the outrage. ‘We’ll serve him as he served us,’ he said, and was met with a chorus of agreement.

  Myles, still feeling the effects of Lucy’s rejection, had been angry enough to agree with him, but then common sense prevailed and he had undertaken to go and ask for compensation. Perhaps his lordship would see reason. But reason was the last thing the Earl had wanted to see, that and the thorn in his flesh that was Myles Moorcroft. Myles rode back to camp with his spirits at their lowest ebb. His plans had been ground into the dirt. The girl he loved had rejected him because she was afraid of her father and the work was behind schedule, not by much, but enough to prevent the line moving off Luffenham land before the New Year, which was the target he had set himself when Lucy had said she must give Gorridge his answer by then. It would go even further behind while the men rebuilt their homes. And, to cap it all, the sky looked full of snow. He did not want to throw his problems into his father’s lap, but he needed his advice.

  On arriving back at the camp he told O’Malley the Earl was considering their request and not to do anything foolish or his lordship might change his mind. He told him to send a wagon back down the line and pick up a load of wood and glass to make new huts and whatever furniture they needed and have the account sent to him.

  ‘Why should you pay?’ O’Malley demanded. ‘Tweren’t your doin’.’

  ‘Lord Luffenham will recompense me,’ he lied.

  ‘For the young lady’s sake, we’ll hold fire,’ one of the others said. ‘But if ’e ain’t paid up and given us an apology by tomorrow a’ernoon, he’ll larn not to trifle with us. We ain’t his minions.’

  He could ask no more of them and rode home.

  Home was a haven. It was a solid mansion in grounds of about twelve acres, which had been almost derelict when Lord Moorcroft bought it, but he had had it repaired and refurbished and now it reflected Lady Moorcroft’s exquisite taste. It was not especially large, not outdated like Luffenham Hall, nor as ostentatious as Linwood Park, but comfortable and befitting a man of Lord Moorcroft’s wealth. He had realised early on that railways would make travel so easy that business men who had once had to live close to their mills and factories could enjoy living in the clean air of the country and still go to work in the towns every day. Goodthorpe Manor was midway between his engineering works at Peterborough and his mills in Leicester. And once the new line was completed, travel
between the two would only be a matter of an hour or two.

  His mother had been concerned by her son’s long absence. ‘I expected you back hours ago,’ she said when he arrived, chilled to the marrow in spite of a warm riding cloak. ‘What has happened? You look all in. You haven’t been excavating again, have you?’

  ‘No, Mama, there’s been no work on the site today. I gave the men a holiday. Give me time to change and I’ll tell you all about it.’

  ‘Yes, do change, Myles. I hate to see you in those working clothes. It is not at all necessary.’

  ‘But practical when I am on site, Mama.’ He had this conversation whenever he dressed in working clothes. His mother disapproved and his father simply laughed and told her not to keep nagging the boy. As for his paternal grandmother, who preferred to live in the town where she had lived all her life, she was firmly rooted in her past and could see nothing wrong with cord trousers and fustian jackets so long as they were clean, though she was very proud of him when he took the trouble to dress like a gentleman. ‘Give me ten minutes.’

  Ten minutes later he came down to discover they had waited dinner for him and he was hungry. ‘Now, lad, there’s something amiss, am I in the right?’ his father asked when they had been served and were tucking in to a succulent steak and ale pie.

  ‘I’m afraid there is. It’s trouble with Lord Luffenham.’ He went on to tell them about the children’s party and the invasion by the hunt and the navvies’ determination to exact revenge. ‘The only way I could stop them was to ride over and ask for compensation for them. Lord Luffenham would not even listen. I told the men he was considering it, but I don’t think they believed me. They know Lord Luffenham as well as I do.’ He paused. ‘Why does the he dislike me so much? As far as I know I have done nothing to harm him.’