Daughter of Trade

by Lesley-Anne McLeod

  "It is famous," she agreed unreservedly and rising, bestowed a warm hug upon Joseph. Her sisters and her friend Juliana echoed her words. Joseph kissed each sisterly cheek, and bowed to his mother and grandmother as they entered.

  "Papa sends his love to all. I am to stay to escort you home on Friday next. John sends his kind regards to Juliana, and Humberstone sends his to Dinah--I saw him on the road. Aren't you lucky girls?"

  "Don't tease, Joseph!" his mother commanded. "What news of the new machinery? Are the Luddites active?"

  "Everything has gone remarkably well," her son informed her. "Humberstone's men are still up in arms, but that is only to be expected. That block has no notion of how to treat an honest working man."

  "And you have of course, dear brother," Dinah said. The thunder grumbled closer.

  "I treat them like people. Which is what they are, unlike your new friend, Lord Holly, who is always and only an aristocrat. John has told me all about him."

  "John likes him," Adelaide said, "and so do we all."

  Dinah subsided under her brother's cynical smile. Absently she noted the storm break, and the rain pound down without. It was most welcome after the heat they had had, but Dinah found herself wondering if Lord Holly would come at all since their lesson must be postponed.

  Harriet took up the cudgels in the viscount's defense. "He is a great gun, Joseph, not niffy-naffy at all. He can talk about all manner of things."

  "Language, Harriet," her mother reproved.

  "Well, he shall not say that Lord Holly is not a people...a person, Mama!" that young lady cried.

  "He sounds a dashed man-milliner...a dandy...a fop," Joseph said. "He has John rethinking the cut of his coats, and purchasing cologne."

  Dinah rushed to Holly's defense. "The viscount has a valet, someone he helped, who turns him out so finely. He makes nothing of it himself."

  "He must! John says he's so slim there can be no strength there for a day's work. And he's teaching you to ride? I shall have to unteach his finicking ways no doubt."

  "He teaches very well. Geoffrey says so, and you know he is the best rider in the family. And the viscount is strong; he's not a fop."

  The rest of the family had broken into chattering groups and disregarded Dinah and Joseph's wrangling. It was not uncommon.

  Dinah thought of the muscled arms that lifted her up and down from Merry's back. She blushed and Joseph noted it.

  "Oh you fancy him do you?" he said. "An aristocrat so inbred he's like a flash thoroughbred, all show and no go. Well the best he'll offer you is a slip on the shoulder, if he's man enough for it."

  Dinah rounded on him. "That is enough. How dare you speak of a family friend that way? And he is a family friend. Father and John think well of him, and so does Mama. And I have no expectations of him, want none. I am happy in my own sphere. He is pleasant company, nothing more, and Mama thinks him lonely. It is no more than a Christian duty to befriend him."

  Joseph has the grace to flush. "Well it annoys me to hear of him sniffing around you girls. He'll have nothing honest in mind."

  "He's a gentleman. I have heard him say that gentility has nothing to do with titles, estates or honours," Dinah surprised herself with her spirited defense of the viscount. "And you prove yourself no gentleman, speaking as you do."

  Joseph seemed to realize he had seriously upset her, and set about to make amends. "I'm sorry, Dinah. I had no intention to offend, but I have no wish to see you hurt. And I've heard too much about idle fashionable men and their behaviour to be sanguine about Lord Holly. I'll hold my tongue until I meet him. But I doubt I'll like him more--"

  * * * *

  Sebastian walked to St. John's on Sunday. Friday's rain had turned the footpath to High Harrowgate to mud but it had begun to dry and he was unconcerned about his topboots. He strode out enjoying the fresh morning air and the birdsong recurring from bush to bush along his way.

  He mulled over the cricket match of the previous day. It had been, in the local vernacular which he much appreciated, champion. Two strong teams, some excellent bowling, and good ale to sup while watching. He had found his own way to the pitch, and had been close by its edge when Hamilton Driffield had found him. The boy had been in company with Geoffrey who looked bored, and the brother Joseph who was newly come from Leeds.

  Sebastian rubbed his forehead and removed his hat. He welcomed the fresh breeze that lifted his hair. Joseph had not liked him when they had met, he'd wager a guinea on it. He'd stared derisively at Holly's coat and his boots, and had been little short of surly at his introduction. A youthful revolutionary, Sebastian judged; stuffed full of the messages of equality as espoused by the French Revolution and its proponents.

  He had made it clear that some of the Driffields had no opinion at all of the aristocracy. Sebastian was much afraid Dinah was among them. He could hear some of her words in those of her brother and he wondered how deep her prejudices ran. How could he convince the Driffields, and particularly, Dinah, that he was one of the useful members of his breed?

  The question perplexed him during the remainder of the walk and he fetched up at the lych-gate of St. John's before he expected. Geoffrey Driffield appeared to be lying in wait for him there.

  "My lord, there you are. I thought you must surely attend services today. Joseph--my brother you have newly met--came with news of my apprenticeship. He was telling us of it last night."

  "Good morning, Geoffrey. How nice to see you." Sebastian replaced his hat, and tried to remind his young friend of his manners.

  "Yes I know I'm forgetting the niceties. But this is important." The boy's voice was low and vibrant with indignation. "'Tis so plebeian, this being taken on as an 'apprentice'."

  "Plebeian? Learning an honest and honourable mode of employ?" Sebastian was impatient, but chose his words carefully.

  "Well, Papa has enough money. We should not have to work. The life we live here in Harrowgate suits me."

  The boy was sulky. Sebastian had a sudden memory of himself at Geoffrey's age, stuck in the Muniment Room at Holly Court studying records.

  "Geoffrey, I can truly say that the unhappiest men I know are those that have no employment. The pinks of the ton are the most miserable creatures on earth."

  "But...but you...holiday here and idle away your time with horse races and visits."

  "Surely I am as entitled to a vacation as anyone? Fine tailoring and a presentable appearance don't make me a fashionable fribble. I'm hurt, Geoffrey, that you should classify me as one, I really am!"

  That fetched a reluctant laugh from the youngster.

  Sebastian continued, "Don't envy a man his tailoring. Envy his happiness or his accomplishments if you must, but not, God preserve us, his tailoring!"

  Dinah's brother mumbled further about his apprenticeship.

  "We all serve an apprenticeship whether or not it has that name," Sebastian said. "I spent hours in my steward's room at your age, learning how to run my business. Landowning is a business based on agriculture. If it is profitable everyone benefits. If not they falter, and the least prosperous suffer. So I learned how to manage my property and since then I've studied how to improve it and expand it."

  Geoffrey added something about money being vulgar. Sebastian saw the rest of the Driffield family drifting toward the church porch. He had wished for a brief word with Miss Dinah but he could not, would not, dismiss the lad. "Money is vulgar? What nonsense! 'Tis all the ton thinks about and much of what they talk of; how much this cost or that, how much so-and-so is worth, what to wager, how much to spend. Those with money are good businessmen, those without wish they were. Learn your business; you'll have money to enjoy your leisure."

  He was pleased to see that Geoffrey looked considerably brighter. "I have still a week of holiday in any case. I return to Leeds on Friday next."

  "So soon? Well, I am going to try and ride with you and your sister each day, since we had to cancel when it rained. But now I shall have to speak with her
about it after service."

  The congregation began to stream into the church, and when the lad slipped away, Sebastian followed them. He resigned himself to a seat, alone, at the back of the church. Solitude had never before concerned him. Now, it seemed, it did. He stared around him at the families in attendance, the wealthy, the tradesmen, the working class who edged the back walls. Everyone was in company with someone. He wrenched his attention to the Rev. Mitton as that gentleman began to speak.

  The vicar's sermon was sound. Despite his loneliness, Sebastian enjoyed the service and he contrived to leave the church in the company of the Driffields. He was warmed by their sincere greetings and even Joseph was civil under his mother and grandmother's eyes.

  Sebastian politely refused an invitation to join them for a nuncheon, and with well-bred ease he manoeuvred Dinah a little away from the rest of her family.

  "Do you care to ride out tomorrow, Miss Driffield?" He thought she looked enchanting in a sprigged muslin gown and a straw bonnet tied with extravagant ribbons. A golden locket lay against her soft bosom; he dared not stare but the desire was strong. "We should ride each day this week if you are to build on your strength and your lessons."

  "I should like it of all things." Surprise seemed to urge her to honesty. "But I shall have to consult with Mama. It should be possible, but we return Friday to Leeds."

  "You are leaving?" The depth of the dismay he felt surprised Sebastian; he had hoped Geoffrey spoke only of himself when he had mentioned his departure.

  "We must. This is no more than a holiday visit. We have responsibilities and dependents in Leeds. That is our home." Dinah seemed more than a little defensive.

  "Of course, of course." He wanted to tell her that she had no need to be protective of her home or her city of trade and commerce. "I was only surprized a little. This has been such a pleasant idyll, I thought it might continue indefinitely. And I had wondered if you and Miss Hesler and perhaps Joseph might care to accompany me on an excursion to Fountains Abbey. Might we manage it this week, before you leave?"

  The Driffield family was waiting beside the gate for Dinah but she seemed unaware of them in her excitement. "Oh, we should adore to. Do you know, of all the years we have come to Harrowgate we have not visited the Abbey? Brimham Rocks and Knaresborough, but never the Abbey, and I have longed to see it."

  Sebastian was pleased with his idea. He had originally thought that they might ride out, but with Miss Hesler's lack of equestrian skills, a carriage party seemed the best.

  "But the children should see it also, oh and Mama. Perhaps Grandmama might join us?"

  A family party; Sebastian was disappointed and could scarcely refrain from displaying it. He was discomposed and discomfited to have to endure the entire panoply of relations once more. And worse, it appeared Dinah had no wish to be alone with him, and showed no consciousness of the delights of separation from her family. Or perhaps she thought to protect herself with a large company.

  "Of course, we shall make it a large outing with a meal at Ripon." He made the response that he must.

  "Perhaps we could take a pic-nic nuncheon. Cook could make those lemon cheesecakes of which you are so fond." She seemed to be aware of his disappointment, and was attempting to make amends.

  "How can I resist?" He thought of telling her that he was not a brother--to be appeased with cakes--but of course he did not. "A pic-nic it shall be. Perhaps Thursday?"

  "Let us ask Mama." She tucked her hand into his arm and led him across the churchyard.

  * * * *

  The days had flown, thought Dinah, as she chose a gown for the excursion to Fountains Abbey the following Thursday. Lord Holly's idea of an Abbey expedition had been acclaimed by all the family, and everyone's attendance had been confirmed. The chatter at every meal was of nothing else. There had been much rain in scattered showers and the fear was rampant that the weather, after a glorious summer of heat and sun, would fail them just when they most required it to be fine.

  With anticipation and a busy round of activities the week had seemed regrettably short. There had been riding every day, sometimes with Joseph, sometimes with Geoffrey, but always in company with the viscount. She knew Lord Holly had practiced cricket bowling with Hamilton at least one morning, and had discussed politics with Harriet each day while he waited for her own appearance to ride.

  On Monday the Driffields had attended their final ball at the Dragon Hotel. Dinah had worn a new gown of pomona green Florence satin on which the viscount complimented her. There had been a warm light of appreciation in his hazel eyes. They had danced twice and it had been magical. He was as graceful and considerate a partner as she had ever encountered. His conversation had been witty, his touch had thrilled her, and he had taken her into supper. He kept her adroitly apart from all her family so that she might talk only with him, and she was far too at ease in his company for her own peace of mind.

  She was greatly tempted to like him very well indeed, forgetting his rank and all other impediments. His behaviour was the opposite of unworthy; he was a conundrum, the antithesis of all she believed to be true about noblemen. It was fortunate, she told herself, that Joseph was at hand to remind her, as he unfailingly did, of the aristocracy's worthless, faithless behaviour. Joseph kept her grounded in reality when, she was honest enough to admit to herself, air dreams might have claimed her.

  She was brought back to the present as Pippy pinned her into her jonquil sarcenet and fastened the golden locket's chain about her throat. She chose a wide-brimmed straw hat for protection from the sun, which had not failed them. It blazed down in a manner that augured well for the pic-nic and ill for the ladies' complexions. After she had tied the hat on with yellow ribands that matched her gown, she went downstairs into the midst of a flurry of preparation.

  Everyone, it seemed, was ready and waiting in the entry. They were so many that Holly had needed to hire two carriages for the journey to the Abbey. Geoffrey and Joseph had elected to ride, and through the open front door, Dinah could see them with Holly at the horses' heads. The ladies and the children chattered happily as they gathered up such important articles as parasols, shawls and gloves, and began to move to the carriages.

  Mrs. Driffield joined Adelaide, Hamilton and Harriet in one barouche and the viscount, Dinah, Juliana and the elder Mrs. Driffield occupied the other. If the viscount might have preferred to ride, he made no indication of it.

  It was a happy journey. Joseph and Geoffrey rode beside, before and behind the carriages, carrying on a laughing banter, although Joseph directed the occasional glower at the viscount. Holly seemed unaware of it, and his charm and humour made the drive through the verdant countryside pass all too quickly. Dinah was struck with the thought that this would be the last time she spent in his company, and as quickly thrust the thought aside. She would not spoil the day.

  Fountains Abbey rested in a beautiful valley beside the River Skell as it had for over six hundred years. It was a popular spot with Harrowgate's visitors and on this day the paths were busy with a numerous company. The viscount's party soon separated according to their interests and the level of activity that each desired to undertake. Joseph, Geoffrey, Harriet and Hamilton were to be seen already in the distance intent upon walking as far as the deer park. The Mrs. Driffields, with Juliana and Adelaide, were content to amble slowly down the path toward Tent Hill and the first lake.

  Dinah was fascinated by the picturesque ruins, and the viscount shared her interest. They traversed the cloister and the chapel, and wondered at the size of other rooms--where was the kitchen and was that the chapter house or the abbot's house. Holly assisted Dinah over the uneven ground and his sallies kept her in a constant ripple of laughter. They were chaperoned by the adventurous society of other seekers of Gothic excitement none of whom were known to them.

  The pic-nic was spread an hour later at the foot of Tent Hill. The grooms had carried the baskets and rugs to where Mrs. Driffield marshaled them to lay out the food; s
almagundy graced the cloth in addition to pigeon pie and veal cake and bottles of lemonade. There was small beer for Joseph and the viscount. For sweets there were gingerbread nuts and the promised lemon cheesecakes. Holly smiled conspiratorially at Dinah as he bit into one, and Adelaide looked at her curiously.

  After the remains of the meal were tidied away, the party dispersed again. Joseph, Harriet and Hamilton set off to climb the Octagon Tower, and Geoffrey announced his decision to examine the ruins. The older ladies, Juliana, and Adelaide were happy to rest on the rugs in the sunny lee of the grassy hill. The viscount offered his arm to Dinah and they walked the long path to the Water Garden. Dinah was entranced. The Temple of Fame, the Temple of Piety, and the Moon Pond passed in succession as they walked, engrossed in their conversation and the sights around them. The other company seemed to have dissipated, perhaps intending an early return to Harrowgate or Ripon.

  From a distance, the children's voices echoed. The sound brought Dinah from her happy reverie. "We should return." Reluctance echoed in her voice.

  The viscount withdrew his gold half hunter from his waistcoat and consulted it. "We must; it is gone four o'clock. We shall not reach Harrowgate much before six. But let us go into the Temple of Piety before we leave."

  They admired its colonnaded porch before strolling under its canopy.

  "This has been wonderful. A fitting end to our summer holiday." Dinah said with a sigh of contentment. "Thank you, my lord, for thinking of it."

  The viscount turned away from the vista of the Moon Pond before him, and stepped closer.

  "You are most welcome. I have been delighted to satisfy my curiosity and yours is the company I would choose above all others."

  "Oh don't--please do not." She knew she coloured at the intent look in his eyes. "Don't spoil the day."

  "Why will it spoil the day if I express my admiration of you?" He had left his hat in the carriage, and now his hand rubbed his temple.

  "Why do you do that?" Dinah seized on an excuse to turn the conversation. "Have you the headache?"